Slipping ( Supernatural fanfiction )

Set after John Winchester's death. Dean is slipping, blaming himself for the death of his father. Sam, and a friend of the Winchesters, Lucy need to catch him before he's gone. ( One-shot )

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1. Slipping

It's late and dark, but i find myself awake, whispering to myself. The hotel bed is uncomfortable, with obvious springs attempting to burst from the mattress. I keep whispering, whispering. I do this a lot when I can't sleep. Repeating facts quietly to myself. That's what keeps me calm when nothing else can. 

 

"My name is Lucy Woodrin. I am twenty-one years old. I am safe. I have a mother and a father, and they are both safe. Right now, I am with friends. Sam and Dean Winchester. I met them a long time ago, in middle school, and I met up with them by chance. The old man, the one who works at the hardware store. He started to attack people. His eyes were black, not just the iris, but all of his eyes. Then Sam and Dean showed up. I think I can trust them. I think that they will keep me safe. I have stayed with them for two weeks now. They are such good friends, but I'm a little bit afraid of them. I want to go home, but I can't, not after what I have seen. I want to help them hunt the yellow eyed demon that I have only heard bits and pieces about. But I know that it killed a lot of people- they're father-"

 

Sam shifts in his bed on the other side of the room and I freeze instantly. It would be humiliating to have him hear me talking to myself. But having said all of this makes my shoulders relax. It's always good to talk to someone, even if it's no one at all.

 

"I am safe. I am safe." I scrunch my eyes closed as I repeat the words to myself, although I have no inclination whether they're true or not. I half-drift off to sleep, but only for a few instants. I'm awake again from the sound of retching from the next room over. At that hour at night, it's easy to assume that whatever you hear is a dream, but i know this isn't. Not entirely sure what the sound is, I make sure not to wake up Sam. He barely fits on his twin bed in the corner with his feet jutting off the end. I walk, then run past him to the door. The noise is coming from Dean's hotel room.

 

I trip over my own feet in the hallway, not quite seeing strait. The bright white lights on the ceiling seem sharp and prying. 

"Dean?" I call out. My pace quickens. Why had he insisted on getting his own hotel room? My mind is full of demons and dark thoughts. Dean didn't lock the door or even close it very well, so I open it with my hip easily.

"Dean!?" I shout. I'm probably awaking everyone else in the hotel, but I don't care. My mind is ruled by worry and unease.

 

He's curled in his bed like a young child. I smell the sharp scent of vomit and I cringe. I'm kneeling my him in seconds- what did this to him?

 

But no. Nobody did this to him but himself. There are a few white pills on his bed, nestled innocently in the covers like tiny bird eggs. Dean making quiet sounds, murmuring and sobbing. It looks as if this is just one second frozen in time, with his mouth open in anguish. I've never seen him cry before.

 

"Dean. Baby, Dean." I pick him up from underneath his armpits, and he stand on his own. His eyes become huge for a second, as if he's remembering something. 

 

"Lu..." He says. His voice is ashamed. I keep my arms wrapped around him, pulling him towards the shower. I want to tell him he's done nothing wrong.

 

"Baby, it's okay." I'm horrid at comforting. The putrid smell of the vomit, matted in his hair and on his shirt. I can't escape it.

 

Once Dean and I are in the shower, i turn on the water. It's cold, but neither of us react. I have to hold him up. He has started sobbing again, putting his face in the water to numb himself.

 

"I'm sorry." He says. I take off his shirt as gently as I can, and scrub the filth from his hair. His short hair is prickly under my hands.. He has stopped moving or making any sound at all.

 

"Dean, what is it." I ask him slowly. He smells like alcohol. The filth swirls down the drain, and he looks scared, sad, ashamed, an emotion I can't explain. I know what this is about of course.

 

Standing close to me, Dean puts his head on my chest. He has melted into something which isn't human. I stroke his hair and his neck saying; "Baby; I'm sorry; It's alright: Sweetheart; Darling." Pet names that he would normally resist, but now is too weak too. Anything to remind him that I'm still here.

 

"It's my fault." His eyes are red when he looks at me.

 

"It isn't." I attempt to protest softly. Dean irreverently blaming himself for his father's death. This isn't new. But i've never seen him melted like this. I pet the hair on the back of his neck. Dean sits on the ground, his back against white porcelain, and I sit next to him. My clothes are soaked, but I don't turn off the faucet. Maybe the water will wash the hurt away.

 

"Your father saved you because he loves you; I'm sure you would do the same for him or Sammy." I explain it to him slowly, but i can tell the guilt is still in his eyes. He looks at me for a second.

 

"Lu." His voice is clear. "Everything, everyone around me. They fall, drop like flies. Human life is so precious, so delicate. Pretty soon, I'll have nothing." He chuckles darkly to himself.

 

"Nope." I reply stubbornly, resisting his sordid attempts "You have Sam, and you have me. "His eyes are closed. "You won't ever lose us." I realize I have essentially bound myself to never leaving them, but I wasn't ever going to anyway. How could I leave them?

 

"You will always have Sam and me."

 

He is quiet for so long that in a few hesitant moments I assume he's asleep.

 

"You mean that bastard is going to outlive me?" He laughs, which makes me smile. Maybe Dean is in there somwhere.

 

"Sam!" I shout, knowing that the walls here are thin and he'll hear me. "Sammy!"

 

"No!" Dean grabs one of my wrist. "Please, no. This-" He gestures down at himself. 

"Is the last thing that he needs to see." 

 

I brush his shoulder with my thumb. This isn't yet over.

 

A groggy, dishleveled Sam staggers in after a few moments. His hair is all matted to one side and his hazel eyes are still adjusting to the light.

 

"What is it? What happened?" His voice is panicked. When he sees us sitting under the rain of the shower, his jaw slacks a little bit. I think he knows what's going on. Sam and I have talked about this a lot, Dean not dealing with his emotions. But under the sea of hot water it seems like a dream.

 

"Sammy." Dean grins, putting on a happy mask. Sam shoots me a quick glance. 

 

I keep on thinking, maybe this has all been a dream. Sam sits next to us, his clothes instantly absorbing warm water. Dean is crumbling between us. I grab his hand and hold it tight and don't let go.

 

My mother used to tell me a saying. "Cuts will heal, scars will fade." My head lays on Deans bony shoulder. Sam's face is all curious and scared but he won't say a thing. We all sit there for a long time. None of us ever want to move from that spot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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