A/N: Warnings: mentions of rape, child abuse, suicide, and a lot of curse words. Have fun! (This is based off a tumbr post about seeing the day someone dies but I forget it now sorry)

Teach Me to Die

Dean always knew the saying that "words hurt" but somehow he never really believed it. It was the type of thing like people would tell you that there's a vacuum in space, and sure, it makes sense, all right. But you never really truly believe it. It's just a fabrication, something that someone else told you, and you accept it as fact but you don't place faith in it. That's exactly how Dean would describe how he felt about the saying "words hurt." There was also "stick and stones" right? So he didn't place his faith in it.

Dean was popular, God he really hated that word, but he knew he was popular. He had tons of friends, or people that spoke to him, gave him a high five, grinned in his direction, he had a pretty nice life, or maybe it was just that he was nonchalant. His mom died when he was four in a house fire, but he forced that too deep down to focus on it. He had a fine life. He did what he wanted and didn't listen to people who tried to tell him to do shit. He was known for that.

He also knew when people spoke of him, they attatched his last name: Dean Winchester. Like he was an object and if you didn't say Winchester it wasn't really him. Dean Winchester knocked up Lisa last weekend. Dean Winchester cursed out Mr. Henrickson in second period. Dean Winchester skipped fourth period to get drunk. He knew all this, and he didn't really give a shit what other people said. Words didn't mean anything.

Then there was Castiel, and no one had to say Castiel's last name because his first name was good enough already. You could call him Blue Eyes even and everyone would know who you're talking about. Even if you were talking about someone else who had blue eyes, they'd think of Castiel at the very mention of blue eyes.

Dean had two classes with Castiel, and anyone who spent a minute with the guy knew that Castiel was strict with rules, didn't color outside the lines, and wore an oversized trench coat that he must be burning up under. They spoke very little and stared very frequently. It was like a lightning storm striking between their eyes. When they did speak, Dean (admittedly) was rude and harsh. Castiel stood stoically like a warrior in armor, hit after hit, he said nothing and turned away when Dean was done. It was infuriating, and Dean tried harder to earn a reaction every day.

The Numbers.

They were inconspicuous, just little black numbers, sort of like Times New Roman font, size eleven, right above the head. You could easily miss them if you tried, and many did. All were supposed to. It didn't take long into man's existence to realize the numbers ticked down until the day of death. Supposedly, they could change, but no one really realized when they did since they weren't supposed to be spoken of. They blurred together in a huge sea of grey above the heads of hundreds. You couldn't read them anyways.

Dean had a sort of crowd, a little mass of people that would surround him. They laughed when he made a lame joke. It was weird at first but Dean learned that it was fun to mess with them, make a crude joke or comment that he knew they wouldn't agree with and watch their facial expression fluctuate and contort before they agreed with him. Castiel was the only one that ever ignored him. It was something Dean did too often: mess with people.

The crowd made it easier to try to mess with Cas (what Dean called Castiel in his head). Dean would walk up to Castiel, the mass of people behind him making it harder for Castiel to just push past him and leave. He did that twice before. They stared at each other for a short period of time.

"Yes?" Castiel had a really deep voice.

"Your shirt looks stupid," Dean blurted, hearing the people around him snicker and murmur in agreement. Dean followed Castiel's eyes for a reaction.

Castiel looked down at his shirt and then back up at Dean. "Okay," he said.

"What? You have a habit of looking stupid, stupid?" it was lame, Dean knew.

Castiel didn't respond.

"You like to be ugly, too?" Dean got closer, he was a few inches taller than Cas. It was like casting a huge shadow over Cas' face. "You're good at it, at least."

Castiel was always the same. He stared up into Dean's eyes and didn't say a word. He didn't blink. He just stood there, taking it all.

"How do you live with yourself?"

Castiel had no reaction.

Dean laughed humorlessly and shook his head, turning around and leaving. Dean swore to himself there would be the day when Castiel would just up and punch him in the face. He longed for it. He wanted to break the mask of Castiel's face. It wasn't normal never to react. It wasn't normal to never fight back. What was his problem?

Dean was fucked up in the head. He knew that now that he looked back at it, but he actually asked Charlie Bradbury (it wasn't her unless he said her last name, too,) to dig up some dirt on Cas' personal life. It only took two hours before she emailed him a document that he read thoroughly and prewrote some insults in his head. When he looks back at it, he probably could have gained a reaction by choosing to do something on the romantic sides of things. Or kindness at least. He could have tried to make Cas blush or smile instead of give Dean a shiner. He should have tried that instead.

But he didn't, because after school the next day, Dean told his little group of people to go on without him. He wanted a reaction from Cas, not to humiliate him in front of the whole school. Everyone passed by him, it was like Dean was a fish swimming upstream. The mass of black scribbles of numbers atop the heads of the kids followed and rushed to the door with the soul it was attached to. Dean caught Cas in the library before he could leave.

Cas looked as stone-faced as he always did.

Dean was despicable, he pushed Cas' shoulder and he fell against the wall. "I know what daddy did to you," he cut right to it and it was fucking satisfying how Cas' eyes widened just a fraction of a centimeter.

"And you know? It's probably the best thing to ever happen to you. I mean who else would willingly touch something so disgusting?"

Castiel didn't respond but something was broken in his eyes. Dean faltered. He didn't know why he continued.

"So your mommy died giving birth to you, your daddy took your body as he took hers. Shame he's locked up though. I bet you loved it when he'd fuck you. He's the only one to ever want you."

Dean could see Cas' chest quiver, the corners of his lips shake. His own chest felt way too tight, like someone was grabbing him, choking him. He should have stopped there, apologized or some shit, but he didn't. He wanted Cas to grow up and punch him. Kick him. At least talk back to him. Insult him.

"No one wants you, Cas."

Cas blinked, but that was it. His face didn't change other than that.

The Numbers did, though. They ticked down.

84/4/22 for years/hours/minutes.

They got smaller, smaller and fucking smaller, Dean couldn't tear his eyes away because Dean had never seen numbers change by year before. Dean couldn't breathe.

0/0/32

Why wouldn't he say anything? He looked no different than he ever had. He didn't look angry, upset, sad, anything. He looked so normal.

0/0/31

Castiel pushed past him and walked to the door. Some kind of hurricane teared up Dean's chest.

"H-Hey! Wait a minute!" he shouted before he could help himself.

Castiel didn't stop walking, he disappeared behind the door and Dean could hear his footsteps echoing down the hall. Dean felt frozen in place before he broke out running. He had never felt his heart beat so fast in his life. He didn't want this type of reaction. He would never want this type of reaction, and how the hell was he supposed to know where Cas went?

"Cas! Wait!" he yelled, and he was sure his voice shook with fear, with guilt. He checked the closest bathroom which was empty and then burst through the doors of the school and got into his car.

He had never been so glad to have Cas' address before and opened his email on his phone. He pulled out and sped down the street. Cas lived two blocks from school, so he probably walked to and from the deathtrap (thanks to Dean, quite literally, fucking genius he is.) He slammed on his breaks when he saw Castiel hugging the trench coat tighter around his body. He was crying.

Dean rolled down the window and said, "Kid, get in."

"Fuck off."

"He speaks!"

"Fuck off."

"The same words but-"

"What the hell do you want, Dean Winchester?" Cas got the memo. It wasn't really him until you said Winchester.

"I already told you," Dean motioned with his head. "Get in."

"And I already told you to fuck off."

Cas walked faster and Dean rolled along side him. "I'll drive you home."

"I'll be home in twenty minutes if I walk."

"Ten if I drive you."

Castiel stopped and glared at the grass under his feet. Dean watched him carefully before the numbers above his head ticked down even more and he got into the passenger seat.

0/0/16

Dean floored it and sped down the street. He could practically hear his heart beating in his chest. He couldn't see the Numbers with his eyes on the road but he could fucking feel them.

"Turn here."

Dean drove faster past the street.

"You missed it! Just stop. I'll walk if you weren't serious."

"I am serious."

"Let me out!"

"No!"

0/0/02

"Then I'll jump out!"

"Don't you fucking dare! What the hell is your problem?"

0/0/17

"You are! Let me the fuck out of your car!"

"No!"

"So what? You're kidnapping me? You want to rape me too? I thought I was too disgusting."

"Shut up! I didn't mean any of that shit!" Dean gripped the wheel tighter, feeling a little like crying himself. He felt so fucking stupid.

"Sure," Cas spat out the word. "Do me a favor and drive us off a cliff."

Cas leaned against the window, eyes blue and wide as they took in the world. The Numbers gradually grew. Dean tried to make himself breathe. He would die himself before he let Cas… do that. He turned on the radio to distract himself. His heart was the roaring sea still waiting for the calm. He kept sneaking glances at Cas as he drove to nowhere and beyond. Every word he said sat heavy like poison on his tongue. He was really too beautiful to ever be even thought of as disgusting.

Castiel's nose scrunched up adorably. "What kind of music is this?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You don't know Led Zeppelin?"

"No."

"Seriously?"

Castiel made a noise with his mouth and shrugged. It got quiet after that, and Dean really hated the wordless conversation, so he said, "Well what kind of music do you like?"

"Shut up."

It felt like knife, honestly. "What?"

"What?" Castiel looked over at him. "What?" he repeated, "You fucking demean me for years, torture me emotionally and act like my heart and soul is your toy to play with like every other one is- Oh apparently Dean Winchester is God in this fucked up world. So you go too far one day, you see my Numbers because why the fuck else would you ever give a shit about me other than to be a hero and save my life? Well I don't fucking want to be saved so take me the fuck home!"

"You curse too much."

"Shut the fuck up and take me home!"

"No! Kid-"

"Stop calling me 'kid!'"

"Cas-" Dean amended. "You got a lot of life ahead of you don't just throw it away because I'm an asshole."

Castiel laughed humorlessly. "Dean Winchester insulting himself. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Look, I-" Dean couldn't get his voice to work. "This sounds really stupid but that's only because I'm really stupid, I just wanted you to fight back against me. I thought if I went to far you'd hit me or something. You never react at anything."

"So I'm your fucking project?" Castiel only sounded angrier. "Let's string up the freak and poke him until he begs for death. Sounds like so much fun."

"No! Look, you're not a freak or stupid or ugly or disgusting or anything else I called you, I just-"

"You don't understand, Winchester," Cas spat out, "It's not you. Yeah, sure, you pointed it out and shit but that doesn't make it any less true. I'm a bastard child that killed his mother, what else do I need to do to deserve to die? My mother was- I'm sure she was a perfectly nice, beautiful woman and because she chose me over an abortion she died. It should have been me so I'm putting it right."

Dean stopped the car and both of them jolted and their heads hit the back of the seats. Castiel took the opportunity to grab for the door handle but Dean beat him to it. Leaning over his body, he ripped Cas' hand away from the door and blocked it with his arm. Their faces were inches apart.

"I was wrong, don't you fucking get that-"

"No!" Castiel yelled. "No, I don't get it!"

"You listened to me when I insulted you so listen to me as I set it straight!" Dean felt his throat being teared up. How loud he was probably hurt Cas' ears or surprised him or both because he quieted down. Their breaths intermingled and Dean's eyes met Cas' in a way that was much more tender than how they used to clash. He dropped his armor. His eyes dropped down to Cas' lips and then back up.

"You're worth it," he said softly. "I don't care who tells you otherwise- I don't care if it's me- You're worth it. If you leave like that you'll regret it, there's so much you want to do with life. You're just- Don't, please don't do it, I couldn't live with myself if you-" he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"I should," Castiel spoke up. His words lacked conviction. "To show you what a fucking asshole you are."

"I am."

"You are."
"I am," Dean murmured again.

"Yeah," Castiel was as quiet as he was.

They were so close.

"We should go out to dinner or something," Dean requested.

Castiel breathed in deeply. Dean watched each breath with the utmost cherishment.

"I don't like Italian."

"Chinese?"

Castiel nodded. His eyes were so blue. Every fiber in Dean's body was screaming for him to kiss him, but he leaned away and settled back in his seat. Castiel looked shaken up, confused. His chest moved up and down quickly like he was having the same problem as Dean with his heart. Cas bit his lip and looked out the window again, pulling the trench coat over his chest in some attempt to protect it from the war outside, beckoning, knocking, like maybe it would be worth it for Cas to open the door and rush into some stupid teenage love. It wasn't some movie though. He shoved his face into the glass of the window. Dean started up the engine again and watched him. His fingers itched to brush the hair from his eyes. Maybe they would never actually work out. Dean screwed everything up pretty bad, but Cas looked in self conflict.

Dean took a deep breath and turned down the next street to the closest Chinese restaurant.

The 85/3/14 over Cas' head was enough for him.