“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?
Yes. NO!
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.
ooooOoooOoooO
“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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