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
#6 - Dangerous Driving
Sam went to sleep after having lectured Dean further on the importants of taking his pills. Dean simply rolled his eyes and gave sly, cocky remarks.
Yes. Sammy had a point but wasn’t it his choice not Sam’s? Sam had asked Dean to promise him that he wouldn’t go back but what if he was already half way there, half way back to where he had come so far from. Half way back to hell? Not a bunch of small, white pills was going to bring him back, because that sure as hell wasn’t the thing that brought him back before. Yeah, they helped but not a great deal, what brought him back was more than that, it was more painful than that. It was seeing what he had done to his father that really brought him back. The medication was just there for effect.
Dean was left, listening to his music and trying, reaching helplessly for his freedom and escape once again.
But Sam had taken that away from him, after his little outburst reality was just hanging in the air like a bad smell. And all Dean could do was hate his brother. It had been so long since he had hated his brother. Seven years in fact, Seven years since he had actually wanted to scream at his brother and throw a hissy fit any girl would be proud of. No freedom, no escape. It was just him and the music. But it still gave him room, time to think, time to collect his thoughts. He didn’t like his thoughts.
His thoughts scared him, ripped him apart inside. The things he saw in his head, the things he heard. It scared the shit out of him and when he was a wake it was all he could do not to cry. But when he slept there was nothing he could do to stop himself crying, screaming. Thus he was exposed. And he didn’t like to sleep, for this ugly fact, but he had to sleep. Everybody had to sleep.
Sam shifted on the seat. Suddenly, watching his brother; Dean started to notice just how tired he really was. It had been almost a week after all since he had last slept.
“Sam?!” he whisper. Silence.” SAM!”
Sam jumped. Almost hitting his head on the roof of the car. He angrily turned to face Dean.
“Dude?! What the fuck?!” he snapped.
“I’m tired after all. I’m not alright to drive. Can you?!” Dean asked.
“Dean you said you were fine. Now I‘m half asleep. Unless you want killed then you will continue to drive and allow me to get on with my sleep. Okay?!”
Sam rested his head on the window and fell back to sleep. Dean sighed. Smart Sam. Real smart.
He kept driving even though his eyes were getting heavy, arguing with his eyelids to stay open. He could feel himself drifting more and more into sleep.
“Your mine Winchester!”
Out of nowhere something hit the car, Dean jumped and immediately swerved. The car went off the road, they where in a ditch. Dean stared ahead, shocked, confused and scared.
What had the voice said? ‘Your mine Winchester!’?
Sam sat up beside him.
“What the holy shit?!Dean!” he almost shouted.
“Something hit the car.” Dean whispered, his hands where shaking, his knuckles white.
Sighting, Brave super brother Sam climbed out of the car, slamming the door violently. He wondered around to the other side and examined the door. There was no proof that something had hit the car, no dent, no scratch nothing.
“Dean. Nothing has hit this car.”
Dean was still staring ahead.
“Dean!!”
“What? W-w-what?!”
“Nothing it the car. There’s no dent or scratch. Nothing!”
“Sammy! Something hit this freaking car!! I’m telling you.”
Sam put his palm to his forehead. Nothing hit the god-damn car. His brother was insane, that or more drained than he’s letting on.
“Come on Dean move over. I’m driving.”
Dean shifted over to the passenger side.
“Thanks Sammy I owe you one.”
Smiling, Dean placed his head on the window and drifted into a deep sleep.
#5 - Empty promises
Jessica was dead, burned up on the ceiling the night Sam came back from his ‘road trip’, after travelling with Dean and doing what he swore he would never do again. Hunt. So far they had wiped the supernatural asses of a woman in white, a windego and a restless spirit who had drowned in a lake. Not to mention the demon on a plane this just scared the living shit out off Dean. Turns out flying isn’t his cup of tea.
They were driving back on the road after sending yet another restless spirit back to hell. Dean was driving, his music blasting into the air around him. His smile was wide, happy, and real. When he was on the road he was happy, he was free, he felt he could do anything, go anywhere. The world was his and he could do what ever he wanted with it. Reality just passed by. Just him, his brother and his 1967 Chevy impala.
Sam watched him with interest. His brother was grinning, he had gotten a little bigger, no longer closely resembled a corpse and was taking the fact that John was still no where to be found. Seemed to be. But Sam was still watching him, keeping an eye on his arms, making sure no new wounds appeared through the white scars.
But right now as Sam watching Dean, smiling and singing, he thought Dean was generally happy.
The song on the cassette changed and the grin on his freckled face grew.
“Man! I love this song!” He said trailing off to sing.
Sam just laughed at how awful he sounded. He was tired, very tired.
“Hey Dean im going to get some sleep.” He said,” turn that down will ya? You okay to drive?”
“Come on Sammy! You know me. Ill wait until we reach the next town. You get your 40 winks or what ever!” Dean didn’t take his eye contact form the road a head.
Sam leaned over the chair into the back seat. He needed something to rest his head on, a hoodie of his or if he was feeling dangerous Deans. Allow he rarely felt dangerous. While trying to steady himself and keep from falling at the same time he threw aside own duffle and started to raid Deans.
“I just need to find something to...” he trailed off as he lifted a container used for Deans anti-depressants. Last time Sam had checked Dean had had four left, now he still had four left. Sam had last checked over a month ago.
“Dean?” Sam asked, he turned himself round in his seat, still grasping the container in his hand,” Did you get a new batch of these?”
Dean hesitated. He was obviously cooking up a lie. But Sam was too smart, he had already read the label stating the date they had been given. They were the same pills.
“No. No I got a new batch!” Dean lied
“Dean. The label says these were bought in December. Last month. These aren’t a new batch so don’t lie. Why aren’t you taking these?”
Dean sighed.He didn’t want to take them, he didn’t like them, he didn’t see the need or the point rather.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged.
“Dean, you have to take these. I don’t want you to go back to the way you were. You’re arrogant and cocky now and I can live with that, hell, I love that in you. Just promise me that you won’t go back to being closed up and you won’t hurt yourself and get unbearably skinny. “Sam didn’t take a breath,” I can’t hug my big brother if you’re that skinny.”
Dean looked into Sam’s eyes. Ew chick flick moments. There was silence for a moment. Dean turned his eyes back to the road.
“I don’t like this new attitude Sammy.”
Sam rolled his eyes. He always did this. He always changed the subject when asked to be serious about this.
Once when Sam was thirteen and John had questioned Dean, yet again, on why he wouldn’t take them, Dean had shrugged and asked where they where heading next. John had sighed and answered him. He didn’t challenge, he didn’t argue he answered.
But Sam wasn’t taking this laying down, he wasn’t going to watch Dean fade away from him. Not again. Besides what was wrong with his attitude?!
“Don’t change the subject! Answer me! Promise!!”
Dean didn’t replie.He just stared at the road, tapping on the steering wheel. Sam remembered that rhythm, Dean used to thump it out to calm down, when he was distressed or afraid. It comforted him.
“Talk to me.” Sam tried again, his tone softer.
“Okay.” Dean’s replie was quiet,” I promise.”
#4 - Famous last words.
John had gone, left Dean all alone, when he knew damn well that Dean needed him. He had said he was going for a hunt, he had lied. Even when Dean had called his cell he hadn’t answered, even tracking him down was impossible. He was alone. Truly alone. Sam had left him to go to University some time ago and he had felt so empty for a while after that, but he always assumed he had his father. Well obliviously assuming, on his part, was bullshit.
So, in a last desperate attempt to try and find his father, he went to that last place he knew his brother to be.
He pulled up outside a block of student apartments, 3rd that night. Stepping up to the door way he checked down the list of names.
“Evans, Haley, Price, Martha,” Definitely not Sam, unless he had changed his sex and name,” Harper, Dustin, Winchester, Sam!!”
Bingo.
He read across to the number. 37. Top floor.
The door to get in was one of them annoying buzzer ones, where you had to get a person inside to buzz you into the building. Ether that or you had a card. Lucky for Dean he had a paper clip. Of course he could just buzz Sam, say hi and ask to come up for a cup of tea and a cookie, but some how Dean figured that wouldn’t work. Plus in that there was no risk. Dean liked risk.
He studied the Card checker as much and as well as he could in the darkness. It seemed simple enough. But then when you had a paper clip, anything was simple. According to Dean anyway. Avoiding the card checker he went straight for the emergency lock.
The lock was picked in a short space of time, but longer than Dean would have liked.
He took the stairs to the top floor, every building was linked and each had 40 apartments. That’s a bitch load of stairs. By the time Dean reached Sam’s apartment it was two thirty in the morning and with no sound or movement coming from with in the room, Dean assumed he had gone to bed. So yet again he picked the lock and quietly slipped inside.
Sam’s apartment was small, but then it was only for him so it did. The furniture was all well chosen, the whole place was overly tidy and there were two pairs of shoes at the door. Two?? One pair of black sneakers and one pair of pink what looked like Chuck Taylor Converses? Then there was the red and white dress lying over the back of a chair. Ether there was something Sam was not telling him or he had a girl. Dean smiled. Sam had a girl. He hoped. Get in there Sam.
He wandered around, picking things up and examining them. Until something heavy jumped him, knocking him to the floor.
“Dean?!” asked a husky voice.” What are you doing here!!”
“Nice to see you too Sammy!”
Sam jumped up, took his brothers hand and pulled him to his feet also. It was the least he could do. He did, after all, just jump him. Dean brushed himself down.
“You greet all your guest like that? You must be a killer at house parties.”
“Dean. It’s the middle of the freaking night. What are you doing here?”
Dean shrugged.
“Here to see you.”
A light flicked on, and a tall, blonde haired girl stood in the door way of what could only be the bedroom. In only her underwear and a Smurfs t-shirt. Dean grinned.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Jessica. This is my brother Dean, Dean this is Jessica. My girlfriend.”
“Hey. Nice to meet you. I love the smurfs by the way.”
Jessica smiled awkwardly. Sam linked an arm around her shoulders.
“What do you want Dean?” Sam asked, sternly.
“Well, I kinda need to talk to you...”
“What ever you have to say, you can say it in front of Jess.”
Dean sighed. Shit.
“Er...um...Dad. He’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days.”
“And? Dean he’ll be home soon. He’s always going hunting and he always comes home...”
“Yeah but he’s never been gone this long. Please. I just need you to help me find him. It won’t take long.”
Sam sighed. Great!
XxxxxX
Sam gathered up a bag and stuffed clothes into it, not bothering to fold or organize them.
“So your brother turns up in the middle of the night and your just going to agree to go with him to find your dad?” Jessica asked leaning against the door-frame.
“Well yeah. He’s my brother and my Dad their family. Besides Dean is most likely of him Medication because he’s so worried. I had better keep an eye on him.”
“Medication?”
“Yeah he’s been on Anti- Depressants since he was 14.”
“Oh poor Dean. Well im sure you being a super little brother will look after him.”
Sam smiled as Jessica kissed him.
“Yeah.”
“Sam. I love you.”
“I love you too baby.”
#3 - Palpitate
It was early the next morning when John pulled in at the motel. He stumbled into the room, covered in blood. Sam jumped out of bed and rushed to the aid of his father, closely followed by Dean. John had only ever come home from a hunt like this twice before, that was when Dean was well, when they had Paster Jim or Bobby. Now, Dean was sick and Paster Jim and Bobby where miles behind them, leaving Sam feeling under a lot of stress.
“Dad! Dad what happened?!” Sam quickly asked.
Dean didn’t speak; he just helped his father to a bed and listened intensively.
According to his father, he had just been careless; the thing he was hunting had gotten him before he had gotten it. But in the end John had given it payback and come speeding back here. To the small, smelly Motel room.
Sam wanted to call one of his friends to help, see if they were any where close. But John, being macho and manly refused continually. Dean pretty much took this as an opportunity to keep busy, to avoid Sam’s eyes. Looking into those eyes used to make him feel warm, loved but now they made him feel cold as if a blizzard had hit him and frozen is bones and nerves.
Sam watched his brother. Dean rushed around, trying to help his father in any way he could. But not the way he that John most needed it. Not in the way sam knew John needed. The truth was John was so worried about his eldest son that his mind wondered when he was hunting, thus causing him to get careless, John had even lost sleep over it all. Sam only felt quilt for questioning Dean last night, for making his brother feel no dought even worse. But even now he wanted to yell at his brother, tell him what John needed, what he needed. Doing so in front of his father would score no brownie points.
“Dad are you sure I can’t call anyone?” Sam asked.
“No im fine son really. Its just minor.”
“Dad how did this happen? You never get...got by anything that you hunt!”
John didn’t replie. He just nodded in that ‘I know’ way. Sad and slow.
Dean stood by the bed watching them both until they would meet his empty gaze and then he would look away and resort to watching the top of his sneakers.
Sam went out to get more bandages and cleaning wipes leaving Dean and John alone. Dean started to fix surgical tape to one of Johns many wounds.
“Was it my fault?” Dean asked, not for one second daring to stop fixing the dressing.
His father only sighed. John had worried about Dean, ever since it all went wrong, sometimes his concentration slips, strays. Wonders of into ‘ I wonder if my boy’s are okay ‘ land. But not like this, never like this. He had never come home so bad before, never. The truth was it was Dean’s fault. He didn’t mean to be like this, his mind was just warped.
“No...Dean.” John lied; the last thing he wanted was to openly tell Dean it was.
“You’re lying.” Dean replied, he looked at his father, his deep green eyes said it all,” Dad?”
“Yeah Dean. But just a little. This time I really did get careless.”
Dean lowered his head. He had known he kept his father and brother up at night. He knew that he had kept John from doing a lot of things, he knew he hurt his Dad and that every time he would ask was it him, John would lie. Tell him that no it wasn’t him, his freaked out, failure of a son. Dean also knew he only lied because he loved him, but some how felt that John hated him. He didn’t know why.
“I’m sorry.” Dean whispered.
“For what Dean?”
“For...for being like this.” Dean was shaking.
“Your scared.” John placed a hand on his son’s. Dean only ever shook when he was scared or cold and he couldn’t be cold it was almost 90 degrees,” What’s up son?”
Dean sighed. He wanted the chase, he wanted to chase Death and pain more than anything but if it meant hurting his father and his brother anymore well then his fun was over. He hated hurting his Dad. He wanted to make him proud of him, take his pills and stay on the rails instead of spending all of his time off them. He didn’t want to bottle up anymore.
That’s why he was so scared. Changing scared him more than anything in the world. Reality was waiting for him.
“Dad? Where are my pills?”
#2 - The more I learn, the more I ignore.
Murphy’s Law, it sucks right? Like when you just get round to buying an ice-cream and the moment you grip the cone it starts to rain. Or when you’re looking forward to a party for days or months and some one in your family dies on the same night and you can’t make it. Yes Murphy’s Law really, really sucks.
Dean was feeling a little bit like Murphy really hated him. He’s nineteen and closed In a smelly, small motel room. This is okay. But he’s watching Sam, his fifteen year old brother. Which is not okay but he accepts it. But worse still their watching cheap shitty movies that Sam actually likes! What’s more is that Sam always watched his brother like a hawk, like he was going to attack at any moment. Dean stayed with his little brother through all of this because it was his duty, his job to look after Sam no matter what, even though Sam would often insisted Dean go and get some pussy or just have fun. But Sam had learnt not to insist any more, not to ask.
Sam and Dean had never had much to talk about. Dean was all hunting, cars, boobs and Sam was all books, studying, and school. But even if Sam was remotely like Dean in any way, Dean just didn’t talk. Simple answers like; yes, no, maybe were all that ever came out of his mouth. Sam tried to talk to his brother, to have a conversation but nothing ever came of it. Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew Dean was bothered, screwed up he knew his father knew these things too. He also knew the worst thing of all. The fact that Dean, His brother, was far beyond fixing he was broken. He only ate when told to, spoke when spoken to and now he never gave an opinion even when asked. So Sam told him eat and spoke to him.
Sam had noticed the scars too, the burns, the open flesh wounds, he had seen them all. When he was thirteen he made the mistake of asking about them, which made Dean defensive and aggressive. Sam knew never to ask again. But even he was a little to daring sometimes. He kept an eye on Dean and every day a few more wounds would appear, some days he could hear his brother throwing up what was In his stomach, which was very little and Sam sometimes wondered what even came up.
John hadn’t seemed to notice anything. But then John was secretive very good at withdrawing his emotions. He didn’t get on with his father, John didn’t agree with what Sam wanted in life so the fell out regularly. Some times he thought john didn’t care about Dean. But the truth was when john had gotten to his son on the other side of that door he found Dean sitting in a pool of his own blood, with glass around him, his hand and wrists bleeding badly, John got medical attention and got the answer he most feared. He had to give Dean anti-depression pills. He had taken them fine for a month or two but he stopped.
Never started again.
No one had really questioned Dean on why he felt like this. They knew to well that he wouldn’t replie.But in Deans mind it was always the same.
It was late, about twelve. Dean had finally gotten the remote and was watching an old horror film. Sam sighed.
“Can we watch something else?” he asked
“No.” Dean replied
“Fine.”
There was silence between the brothers for almost several moments until Sam looked towards Dean’s forearm. More deep wounds had appeared still oozing with blood. So Sam decided to be daring.
“Dean.” Sam asked.
His brother nodded.
“Why do you do that to your self?”
There it was out before Sam could stop himself.
“Do what?” Dean’s tone stale.
“That. You cut yourself. Why?”
Dean didn’t replie. As usual.
Sam sighed.
“Dean talk to me!!”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Dean...”
“Shut up!” he snapped.
“What did you say to me?!”
“Shut the fuck up!!” Dean thumped the chair in that long lost rhythm,” Just shut up.”
“No Dean! No I won’t. Not this time. There’s something disturbing you, hurting you so much and it hurts me to see you like this. You’re forcing us to watch. Talk to someone, take you god damn pills or...or something!!”Sam shouted, surprising himself.
Dean stared at his brother, perplexed, hurt. It was all there, all reality, thrown in his face, ringing in his ears. It made Dean want to curl into a ball and die, but most of all he craved the hurt, the pain more and more. The reality was he was sick, broken, gone so far he might never find his way back. And it was true it was he who had to find his way back not someone else. It was his entire fault. And he loved the guilt; the pain that made him fell. It was interesting. Interesting that he was a lost cause and yet they tried, interesting that he didn’t care and even more interesting that he wanted to chase after it even more.
