Dean has been depressed since a young age of 14, eventually he learns pain can take away his emotional distress. He doesn't take his pills until John returns broken from a hunt, when he was 19. Now dads gone missing, how can Sam protect him?
- Created By Electrogirl
Maybe it was the Jack Daniels, maybe it’s the luke warm haze of the midnight air ot maybe it was the adrenaline of the hunt still pulsing through his veins. But Dean felt himself becoming faint, with barely any objects near by to steady himself, he fell to his knees. The whiskey dropped from his grip and spilt on the ground beside him. He couldn’t keep himself from passing out, not again, it was too much. His head hit the soft soil and all Dean could do was stare into the distance and listen to his own breathing. It grew fainter by the second and his vision blurred. He was gone.
He woke suddenly. Everything was white and glowing, so much that it hurt his eyes.
“Sammy?” He choked.
His brother stood over him, a look of concern on his face. Something beeped, in time with his heart beat.
“Where am I?” Dean asked, trying to sit up.
Sam gently pushed him back down.
He didn’t understand. What was going on? Where was he? Something tucked at his wrist. A drip? It was a drip. His stomach ached, burned as if it was on fire.
“What? What happened Sammy?”
“ calm down. Come on!” Sam replied.
It hurt so much to move, to , slowly he placed a hand on his stomach.
“I’m bleeding?” He asked, feeling the thick bandage.
“You...you tried to kill yourself.”
“Sammy...I swear. I didn’t.”
“Don’t Dean. Please. Stop it. Just tell me why!”
“I didn’t. Really Sam I think I would remember trying to cut my self a new navel.”
“Stop it!” Tears fell down Sam’s cheeks,” Just tell me why Dean?”
Dean was many things but not suicidal, at least not for a long time. He didn’t do this, and he knew he didn’t. So why didn’t Sam believe him, his own brother.
“Sam.” He replied calmly,” I didn’t do this. Believe me!”
“I get it, you broke our promise, you broke, you...you hurt yourself b—“
“What. Ah...no I haven’t hurt myself.”
He tried to cover his arms which bore the fresh wounds.
“Yes you have, don’t try to hide it. But this all aside, you...what ever you where going through, you didn’t have to go through it alone. I have said it before, I’m here to help. Don’t ignore me, don’t hide, because this (he pointed to Dean’s stomach and then to his arms) this is what happens Dean.”
“I’m telling you the truth, I didn’t do this! But you know what. Fuck you! Believe what you want!”
Sam ran his fingers through his shaggy, brown hair, before wiping his tears on his sleeve.
“It’s not the truth, and you know it isn’t.” He took a deep breath,” Im going to talk to a doctor. I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t bother. I don’t want you here if you’re not going to believe a word I say.”
Sam headed for the door with out looking back, he was tired and it showed in the way he walked.
“It was...it was the bitch in my dreams Sam. She did it, believe me please. PLEASE!!!”
‘He was insane’ that was all Sam could think, ‘he had cracked’. He belonged an asylum, not on the road hunting evil.
Dean was alone, with only his thoughts. The urge to cry was almost too much, be he held together anyway. He had been known to take things like this out on him self, when things went wrong, he had been known to hurt himself to almost the point of death. But he never went over the line. The line of death, so why go over now. In the last few months, he had become self-destructive, taking dangerous jobs, drinking a lot, driving under the influence and hurting himself, sometimes starving.
Had he been drunk? No. It was her! Don’t let her win, he couldn’t let her win.
Maybe if he went to sleep, it would all go away.
“Mr. O’Malley, upon talking to your brother, he seems to have no memory of doing this to himself. But his self-destructive behaviour seems to prove otherwise.”
Sam looked at the psychologist sitting across from him, on the other side of a grand oak table. It had been three hours since Dean had woke, and he had gotten only 15 minutes rest before doctor’s cam storming in to gather facts.
“It is unlikely, that he was mugged and also that he was drunk. Because believe me son, he wasn’t.”
“What are you suggesting?” Sam asked, fearing the worst.
“He was acting sober. He did this to himself of his own free will.”
Sam took a deep, shaky breath. He had been hoping that Dean had been drunk, he had been praying.
“You’re brother is a deeply depressed young man. I understand that he is on Citilopram?”
“Yes.20mg’s and he has to take one every day with water, with or after food.”
“And I understand he refuses to take them?”
“Well I’m afraid that given his condition I want to put him on Tranylcypromine. 10mg twice a day, morning and afternoon. If there is no response with in two to three weeks we will up to dosage. “
“I’m sorry. But he doesn’t take his pills now, what are the changes of him taking these new ones.”
“We are keeping in the hospital under observation for at least another 3 weeks. So he will have to put up with it.”
“Thank you doctor.”
“If you have any more problems you know what I am son.”
Sam left the office and sat in the family area. He was so exhausted. He just wanted it all to go away, and he had a sneaking suspicion so did Dean.
“What the hell where you thinking?!!” Sam screamed.
He dragged Dean through the door by his elbow, slamming it violently behind him and throwing Dean onto the bed.
“I’m sorry!” He whispered.
“Sorry!! You’re sorry!!! Don’t tell me you’re sorry! Do you know how worried I was, Do –“
“I SAID I WAS SORRY!!”
There was silence, it seemed to last forever. Dean eventually broke it by standing up, at his full height and meeting Sam’s gaze.
“Just leave me alone Sam.” His voice was small and hoarse.
“You reek of alcohol.” Sam put a hand to his brother’s arm,” never do that to me again.”
Dean stared deep into his brother’s blue eyes. Those sapphires that seemed to glow in the darkness. He wanted to grip hold of his brother, hold him tight and promise him, softly promise him that he will be okay, that he will get better, that he will keep this promise. But Dean knew he shouldn’t promise anything. It hurt.
Sam wanted to cry, he wanted to fall to his knees dragging his brother with him and hold him while they both cry. He felt cold and numb. But all the while he wondered; if he felt like this then how must Dean be feeling?
“Dean. I’m not going to ask you to promise anything. It wouldn’t be right.” Sam whispered,” Poison, I’m glad she found you. I’m glad she called.”
Dean didn’t reply. He wanted to say he was sorry, over and over until he could believe it himself.
“I love you Dean. Okay. Do you understand? I love you.”
Tears dripped down Sam’s cheeks before he could stop them. He wrapped his arms around his brother and Dean feel silently into his chest listening to the breathing as his younger brother cried.
“He doesn’t mean it “
Dean flinched. He didn’t mean it?
“Are you okay?” Sam asked.
“Yea...yeah. I...I love you too Sammy.”
He didn’t want to believe it. It wasn’t true. Dean just wanted to stay in his brothers arms, listen to his heartbeat. Know that he was still alive, still there. He wanted to know that he meant it.
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“Dad. If you get this, it’s Dean. He’s not too good. He’s stopped taking his pills again. He sees things and...And just isn’t good. Just help me. Please I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Sam closed over the cell phone and held it to his mouth anxiously. Dean was out getting coffee or something like that, Sam didn’t really pay much attention. They where just back from a hunt, man eating bugs. Dean had straight away left Sam with the motel for himself and he had taken this opportunity to call their father’s cell. He then planned to see Dean back into the motel room, take a shower and get some sleep. But so far there was no sign of his brother.
So he waited, at first just laying on the bed, then pacing the room and eventually after an hour, he took to standing at the window. Assuming that his brother was just taking some time to himself he went to bed and allowed himself to fall asleep.
It wasn’t until he woke at two that afternoon that he knew something was wrong. It had, after all, been four hours since he had last saw Dean. Sitting up he sighed heavily and placed his head in his hands, defeated.
Had he just lost his brother?
His breath was shaking, what if Dean was gone? Done something stupid? His condition had been getting worse no matter what Sam had done, he had tried so hard, so damn hard. But he had gotten nothing.
Sam had protected Dean, as Dean had done him, he had carried him, got him out of trouble. Dean had pretty much pulled him from a fire, and to Sam there was nothing he could ever do to make up for that.
No! He was not going to sit around and wait for bad news, the possible suicide of his beloved brother. Dean meant too much to him to just give up on.
“Don’t sleep to heavy in your cherry blossom bed
peel the razor peddles from your skin
don’t get lost in the fairy dust
don’t look at the fairy
don’t look at the fairy
that fairies not pretty
she's ugly, evil and deadly
are you still dying
are you still dying”
Dean chuckled. He had heard this somewhere. A long time ago. Sam would have known who wrote it, Sam always knew who wrote these things. He had to face it, he wasn’t Sam, he didn’t pass school, and he didn’t have brains.
He had been drinking solid since they had returned home at ten am. And it was now eleven forty five at night. No one was around, it was jus him, his whiskey and the clear river that ran under the bridge on which he stood.
“Peddle red peddle blue, kill the fairy end the doom
peddle red peddle blue, the girl power will save you
peddle red peddle blue, if your crazy then so am I
are you still dying in the fairy dust
are you still dying
are you still dying
kill the fairy”
Laughing he climbed onto the barrier and stared at the water beneath him. He recited and drank, continually filling his body up with whiskey. The trees moved in the wind and they seemed to be laughing and reciting with him. He had drunk so much that he had almost drunk himself sober. This was him almost sober.
Sam had tried to get him help, tried to help him himself but Dean no longer wanted to hear it. He felt bad for ignoring Sam, his advice and pleas, but not as bad as he felt for going against their promise. He had already gone back to the starvation and the self injury. He hid it better too.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
Dean turned himself carefully round to find a beautiful young woman standing not far from him. She, to Dean, looked like she might be an angel and he was so tempted to use that well known pick up line but he didn’t.
“You want to give me the drink and come on down from there?” She asked, offering him her hand.
“Who’re you?” Dean asked, remaining rooted to the spot.
“My name’s Sarah. But all my friends call me Poison. You can call me Poison if you like.”
“You want a drink?”
“No. I would much rather you come down from there. Before you fall.”
“No big loss.” He replied, hanging his head.
“I’m sure that’s not true now! You have lots of people out there who love you. Looking for you too I bet!”
She kept her hand hovering in the space between them. Willing him to take it.
“Is there anyone I can call?” Poison asked.
“My mom!” he laughed,” You got the number for heaven.”
Immediately Poison dropped her eye contact.
“Any one who’s not...deceased?”
Dean sighed, looked her up and down and handed her the whiskey bottle. Poison took it from him, setting it on the road beside her.
“You can have that. I’m not much of a Jack Daniels drinker anyway.” Dean said.
“Okay. Are you going to come down off there for me?”
“I’ve drank my self sober. Never done that before.”
That wasn’t what she had asked. She sighed and jumped up beside him.
“Do you have any parents I can call, grandparents, siblings?”
“My dad ran out on me. He knew I needed him and he ran out on me. He won’t reply to any of mine, or Sammy’s calls. The bastard doesn’t care.” Dean sniffed, rubbing his nose on his sleeve.
“How about Sammy? Do you want me to call him?”
“He’s done everything for me. And this is how I act. I should be shot. I don’t deserve him as a brother.”
Poison could feel his pain, his horror just from sitting beside him. He stank of it, he practically lived in it. It broke her heart.
“Here. Give me his number, or your cell ill call him.” She smiled,” I’ll make sure he picks you up.”
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Dean lay in his brother’s arms, listening to his breathing, the thumbing of his heartbeat. Hours flew by with out even being noticed. The hours existed only because he knew he, as well as Sam, needed the comfort, the reassurance. His father was gone and it was true he really didn’t know how to cope; he really didn’t know what to do about it.
The eldest Winchester lay awake, staring at the ceiling and every so often watching the rise and fall of his brothers chest, just to make sure he was still there, still alive, still with him. This was the first time Sam was able to get decent sleep for 3 or 4 weeks now. Sleep that wasn’t disturbed by nightmares of Jessica burning, with out screams of horror filling the air. Dean was sure that if he had been asleep they would have woke him, as well as the whole motel and maybe the whole county. He sometimes thought that when he slept, his screams, his pleds and horrors woke Sam up, but Sam hadn’t mentioned it. It was only a matter of time before he said something about them.
Sometimes Dean was afraid to sleep, when he was younger he would go for hours with out laying his head on the pillow but he still eventually drifted off. Nightmares where the things that brought him back into the world around him, cold, scared and covered in sweat. As he became older he learned to control sleep a little more, so that he didn’t have to sleep. But then his father came home, injured and he gave in, took his pills which made him so tired that he couldn’t go a day with out drifting off. They didn’t stop the nightmares thought, the just stopped the screaming.
Now that he wasn’t taking them again he had forgotten how to control his sleeping patterns and, like his younger self, had to sleep eventually. And he gave into this fact. But even thought he was tired, gagging for sleep as he lay beside his brother, he couldn’t let him self give in. Right now drifting off was weakness, he wasn’t weak, he never was weak.
It wasn’t long before Sam woke up, Dean was sitting watching the first stars of the night creep across the sky, reading Johns journal. Something twinkled in his eyes, and for the first time Sam witnessed his brother crying, suffering his silent pain. Alone. Dean’s breath came slow, rattled, it sounded as if it hurt to breathe, but the way he tried to hide it was desperate. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, cleared his throat to get rid of tat hoarse feeling.
Sam watched helplessly. He wanted to help his brother, tell him everything was going to be okay, tell him they would find Dad, tell him they were going to kill that son-of-a-bitch demon and help him as much as they could. Slowly, Sam sat up on his elbows.
“Dean?” He asked softly,” You okay?”
Didn’t replie, he franticly wiped his eyes.
“Dean? Look at me, you don’t have to hide. You don’t have to suffer in silence. What ever these things are doing to you we—“
“What things?! There is no ‘things’ “Dean snapped.
“That’s not true and you know it isn’t. Please let me help. I can.”
“Just shut up Sam. I’m not in the mood.”
Dean was shaking; his hand was hitting the windowsill in his rhythm. Sam crossed his legs and sat up.
“Don’t tell me to shut up! Just talk to me damn it.”
“Shut the hell up Sam. If I don’t want to talk I don’t have to!”
“Why don’t you go to sleep? You said you wanted to? Why didn’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean’s voice was threatening, the hitting had stopped.
“Your scared to sleep, just like when we where kids. With all that you’ve seen, I’d think a woman in a clock would be no problem to you.”
“SHUT UP SAM!”
“What are you afraid off? Are you scared we are going to be beat up by a girl? Scared the ladies going to kill us Dean?”
Sam smirked his was hitting a nerve, getting him to talk, in a way. He didn’t like it but this was one of those days where you didn’t want to take any of Dean’s bullshit, where you didn’t want him to live. It was like that sometimes. One day you wanted him to live others you didn’t.
“Stop it Sam.” Dean’s voice was softer, defeated.
“You think we are all going to die at the hands of a woman—“
Suddenly Dean stood up violently throwing John’s table to the floor, he lifted Sam up off the bed using seer force and anger. His eyes where full of rage, fear.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP SAM! You don’t know what it’s like seeing these things and hearing them continually. Even when I’m awake. That bitch is not going to stop until she’s killed us all, and I know it. So just shut the fuck up.”
Sam stared at his brother. He was shaking, from the cold or fear Sam couldn’t tell, and he wasn’t about to ask. At that moment he knew he shouldn’t have pushed Dean.
Sighing Sam looked away from his brother.
“I’m sorry. Just please put me down.” Sam replied feebly, now he was defeated.
“No! No! You started this!” Dean almost shouted.” You want to know what’s in my head!!”
“Then shut up. Shut your god-damned mouth and leave me alone and don’t tell me what the hell to do.”
Dean dropped Sam with a thump to the floor.
“NEVER tell me what to do.”
“Dean?” Sam whispered, shutting the engine off and gently shaking his brother,” Wake up!”
He quietly yawned, stretched and sighed heavily.
“How long was I out for?” He grunted.
“A good few hours.” Sam replied, not impressed that his brother practically asked the question he should have been asking.
They both climbed out of the car, closing the door’s behind them in typical brotherly fashion, raided the trunk for any guns or blades and headed to the check-in house.
“One room please.” Dean asked, lacking his usual cocky confidence.
“King or two queens honey?” asked a short woman behind the counter, raising an eyebrow.
He gave her his visa under the name Mr Minsk. Taking the key, he wandered by Sam, whom was closely watching for signs of his normal older brother. Dean slogged yes but not like this, he looked weak almost sickly. It made Sam wants to carry him, hold him up but instead he just waddled behind. Doing anything would result in Dean getting angry and these days it’s the last thing Sam wants.
His stride had changed, the way he carried himself, the paces he took, the way his rib cage and lower anatomy shifted. It wasn’t his older brothers cocky ‘Im-sexy-‘cos-I-know-i-am-baby’ walk, and it hurt. Sam kept telling himself that if only Dean took his pills then he would get better for good, he would have his walk back and would no dought be back to ‘wooing’ women in no time. Because with the loss of his confidence it’s no big surprise that his sex drive has gone too.
The motel room was modern but small with two beds, a wardrobe, a kitchen and a bathroom. No TV sat on any off the small desks, only a radio took its place proudly on the kitchen table. It was nothing to write home about but for the amount of time they planned to stay there it would do.
Dean through his bag onto the bed nearest the bathroom and lay down, with his arms behind his head.
“Your going back to sleep?” Sam asked his tone disbelieving.
“Dude! What’s wrong with you?!”
“What do you mean? I tired is all?”
“Your drove us into a ditch because something ‘hit the car’ so I took over the wheel in hope that freaking 5 hours of sleep would have you ready and able to sit up and do research maybe even get some food, so that I could sleep. So why are you still tired, why are you still pale and weak?!”
“Where are you going with this?” Dean asked raising an eyebrow and sitting on his elbows.
“Your pills!! Take the god-damn things. Then you wouldn’t be so tired, then you wouldn’t be so weak and maybe you wouldn’t act so insane and...and...crazy!”
Anger bubbled in Dean’s blood. How dare his brother, his little brother stand in front
Of him and lecture him.
“Okay! Sam I’ve had enough of your bullshit today!! Enough of your lectures, seriously im twenty six not a little kid. So shut up and get your god damn sleep okay!!”
“You know what your problem is?” Sam snapped,” You can’t take that im the one basically looking after you, you can’t admit Dad is gone, he’s ran off! You won’t let your feelings out and because you haven’t taken your pills the problem is building, up and up. You’re going to crack, sooner if not later! And yes, Dean, yes you are twenty six so why don’t you start acting like it?”
Dean stood up like lightning. He wasn’t happy. He didn’t like Sam’s new found attitude, didn’t like all this little ‘reality check’, he didn’t like the truth.
“Sammy! Stop it! Stop trying to read me, stop trying to tell me your little version of reality. I don’t care, I don’t care! I DON’T CARE! So give up!”
There was silence; it wasn’t awkward but full of hate. It hung in the air like a bad smell. They kept eye contact, and it stung. Eventually Sam looked away and went to sit-down on the other bed, Dean lay back down also. His back to Sam and to the front door.
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t care. Im not going to stop trying. You’re my brother; I would never give up on you. I love you so much,” Sam’s voice broke.
Dean heard bed springs shift and suddenly, with out warning, there was an arm linked around his waist. Sam’s head rested on his shoulder, his long legs tangling protectively in Dean’s. Dean took hold of his hand.
“Im here for you Dean, Im always here.” Sam whispered into his ear.
“Im not the one who needs you, you need me. You’re the one that needs me Sammy. I love you too.”
“We need each other Dean.”
Sam held tight even as Dean tried to squirm out of hid grip, he still held on. Dean elbowed Sam in the ribs, which didn’t work, he, by accident, elbowed his eye too. Eventually he pushed himself off, so he was laying on his back beside his little brother, with his arms around his shoulders and his head on his shoulder.
This wasn’t Dean; Dean didn’t do things like this. But Sam played along anyway, stroking his brothers, short, brown hair.