Lana Winchester's Oneshot

Alot of people do what Dean is doing. Putting a brave front, nonchalant, carefree attitude on the outside when he's around other people and completely breaks when there is no one around.

Mini-mini story by me

Two different songs are featured in this mini fic:
The first is "I'm Not Alright" by Santus Real
The second is "Slow Fade" by Casting Crowns

People Never Crumble In A Day

Every night Dean stayed up later and later, drinking alot so that he didn't have the nightmares, instead merely an alcohol induced sleep when he finally did go to bed. Sam eventually gave up trying to stay awake with Dean and went to sleep, leaving Dean alone in front of the television watching the news for any strange goings on.

Sam was long asleep in the motel room as Dean quietly grabbed his jacket and left the motel room, taking extra care not to wake Sam before he went for a walk outside.

He walked down the street in the cold, wandering completely aimlessly with any excuse to get out of the spacious motel room that suddenly seems too crowded.

He walked until he reached a gas station, he paid for a candy bar from the vending machine and then went around the corner and walked into the gas station's Customers Bathroom that was a separate building from the gas station.

It was a publicly owned bathroom so it's not as if he had to ask the old man behind the cash register in the gas station for a key or anything. That was good, right now he didn't feel much like talking to anyone.

The tiles were disgusting, the floor was dirty and brown mold lined the sinks. The lights, those that weren't broken or burned out, were very dim and cast a white-ish greeny light over everything. Glancing around he noticed out of the eight stalls in the bathroom, only three had doors and he'd be willing to bet that even less actually had toilet paper.

He glanced quickly into the mirror, at the pale face with the dark rings under their slightly bloodshot eyes, that he saw looking back at him. It took him a moment to realize that it was himself he was looking at.

He sharply closed his eyes and gripped the closest nearby sink as flashbacks full of fire and pain seared through his mind for a moment, and he inhaled in ragged, panting breaths, as the scent of cheap beer hung on his breath.

Dean walked over to the nearby stall, one without a door and immediate hurled into it's basin, the sickening feeling in his stomach flowing out of him and replaced with the horrific stench of vomit.

Once he was done, Dean stumbled back to his feet, and passed a hand over his face. He was exhausted from the lack of rest and the act of vomiting but terrified to go to sleep.

He walked back to the sink that he'd gripped before and silently thanked it before he washed his face with ice cold water, drinking a little out of the facet to wash down the taste of vomit still in his mouth.

He stepped away from the sink unit and walked as far to the back of the bathroom, away from the entrance, as he possibly could. He turned to his right and walked into the large handicapped washroom at the end of the row. After a second of checking there was actually toilet paper in there, he turned around while swinging the door shut and locked the door with a slight slam.

He closed his eyes and pressed his head against the cold metal of the graffiti covered back of the bathroom door, as a different kind of pain, the bottled up emotions he'd been hiding all day from Sam, from everyone, ripped through him.

It was a pain and feelings he was all too familiar with, that someone normal, that someone who's life was worth a damn, would never be familiar with.

After his time in Hell he felt dirty, tainted, worthless and so disgusted with himself he WANTED to die again, only now that Castiel and God wanted him to do stuff, that route was totally out of the question and here he was stuck again between the fire and the frying pan.

Still he couldn't allow Sam to see him like this, it was Dean's job to be the stable protector, to softly tell Sammy, everything was okay and everything was GOING to be okay when their whole world was coming down around them.

It was his job since he was 4, to be calm and confident on the outside, even if that meant that he was broken inside.

Weakness is a wound that no one wants to speak of
Then "cool" is just how far we have to fall
I am not immune, I only want to be loved
But I feel safe behind the firewall

Can I lose my need to impress?
If you want the truth, I need to confess

I'm not alright, I'm broken inside, broken inside

Burn away the pride
Bring me to my weakness
Until everything I hide behind is gone

'Cause honestly, I'm not that strong"

Dean's eyes began to sting and his eyes filled with salty tears, as he backed away from the metal door and then began viciously kicking it, harder and harder.

Each time, he was greeted with it remaining on it's hinges and each time that made him more angry and upset. He began to scream in anguish as he body began to shake lightly and he allowed his body to slowly sink to the floor.

He brought his knees close to his chest, as he wrapped his arms around his own torso, digging his hands in under each armpit yet slightly above the waistline, hugging them to himself tightly.

He gripped a small piece of toilet paper in one hand, as shuddering sobs enveloped his entire body and he hugged himself while slightly rocking back and forth.

Every night since he'd been back he'd done this, and every night, like most of his life so far, he'd been alone, screaming into the darkness.

It's a slow fade
When black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade
Choices are made
A price will be paid
When you give yourself away

People never crumble in a day."

My answer oneshot to Lana's

********

Silently, Sam watched Dean fighting to stay awake in front of the tv…his blood-shot dark-rimmed eyes forced wide so as not to tempt fate to fall asleep…

Sam had seen Dean, tormented even in his sleep by they memories of Hell, never really able to rest…He had heard the pain-filled moans and the soft, sobbing whimpers, like that of a terribly wounded animal….

Sam kept his breathing slow, rhythmic, so Dean would think he slept…But inside, he was slamming against the walls of his mind…It was all his fault…Dean was slowly dying inside right in front of him and he couldn't do anything but watch it happen…

Dean thought he couldn't see the pain he held so tightly reined in…That he couldn't see how much he hated himself….

Sam saw it…felt it….because he knew was the cause…he was the reason for Dean's agony…

He heard Dean shift in his chair and he snapped his eyes shut quickly, making sure he didn't look tense or awake…He knew what Dean was going to do….He heard him rise, so quietly, just a whisper of cloth, a quiet creak in the floorboards as he crossed the room,…then the soft, supple sound of leather as he gently donned his coat…then the soft rush of air as Dean opened the door and gently pulled it shut after him. The whisper-soft click of the door latch signaled that he didn't have to pretend to sleep any more….

He heard the quiet shuffle of his brother's footsteps as they receded away from the door… he lay still for a moment, not because he feared Dean might return, he knew he wouldn't, but because his own thoughts pressed upon him so heavily that he couldn't find the strength to move….

"What have I done…" whispered in his mind….

"I did exactly what I said I would never do….I have hurt…no, I have destroyed the only person in the world that I love…."

"Dad was right to tell Dean to kill me..."

"Why…???Why did I come back…? I never should have come back…I killed my brother, my family so I could come back….

I never should have left him alone…I was selfish, I just had to go to college…it never once occurred to me that he wanted a different life…but he would never tell me, and I never bothered to ask…to see...I just left him there, with dad, knowing he didn't have the heart to leave the man alone…even if that's what dad had done to him his whole life…

Sam struggle to rise as his thoughts pulled him back…he swung he legs of the edge and his hands reached out to grip the edge of the bed as his mind swam before him, taunting him with shifting, unfocused images….

In his mind, he watched his brother wander the streets in the hours before dawn…he had never told Dean, but he had followed him one night, cautiously stalking him from distance and he roamed….not that he thought Dean would know he was there, he was lost in his tortured mind, dead to the world…

For a few moments, he lost him as he rounded a corner, but he caught up just in time to see him slip into a public bathroom….the buzzing hum of the flickering flood lights permeated his brain and added to the cacophony of sounds and words circling in his mind….

Carefully, he snuck around to the back of the little building and found a small, filth-encrusted window that was just above his eye level….he stretched his body, standing on his toes….he could see the fuzzy outline of Dean standing at the mirror in the decrepit, filthy restroom…he gripped the edge of his sleeves and pulled it taut with his fist and rubbed at the grime-caked glass before him…

He could see Dean a little clearer now. He watched as he gripped the edge of the sink and seemed to sway slightly…time seemed to fall away for a moment and then, in a burst of speed, Dean rushed to an open stall and collapsed on his knees, barely making it before the bile came pouring out of his throat…his fingers gripped the soiled edge of the toilet as his muscles locked and he shuddered through the sickness…at long last, he slumped a little, still breathing heavy as he tried to stand but couldn't… His legs gave way and he tipped backward on to his backside, catching one of his legs beneath him…he sat there for a moment, trying to collect himself…

All the while, Sam's face was tight, his fingers clinging to the surround of the window, his whole body tense, slightly shaking as he watched his brother's weakened body struggle to recover….

Finally, Dean tipped himself forward and pushed himself up off the ground. Sam watched as he wavered, like he would fall again, but he regained his footing and he shuffled, ungainly, toward the sink again…he braced himself against the edge and splashed his face with the water from the spraying, hissing faucet….he sipped water out of his shaking hand and spat out the last remnants of the sour, acrid taste in his mouth. He turned and stumbled toward the end of the building, just below the window that Sam stood at…he turned and Sam ducked, but when he peered back over the edge, he saw Dean latching the door shut…

Dean leaned forward against the graffitied stall door and rested his head on the metal. His body was so tense that he was shaking slightly…he turned his head a little and Sam could see the tears spilling from his eyes, see the dark blotches forming on he shirt….he shifted back, sending out a vicious kick to the door…then another and another….the whole door shook and groaned on it's framed, but stubbornly refused to give into the brutal attack…he could hear the anguished, muffled screams Dean made through the cheap glass….Slowly, the attack subsided and Dean, now spent of his fury-fueled energy, turned and slowly collapsed wearily to the floor….His tears pouring heavily now, he pulled himself in close, a small square of tissue in his hand, he pulled his knees in and locked his shaking hands across his torso, hanging his head low as his emotions flooded over him, gripping him, wracking him in quiet, hopeless shudders, the tears never stopping…

Sam was shaking, his knees threatened to buckle and as he turned to lean against the wall…his legs gave out completely….and he sat down abruptly as the shock of what he had just seen ripped through him…So much pain…so much pain…he had never seen Dean let himself go before… he held it inside, long after he should be capable of doing so….he always wanted to spare his little brother terrible toil that life had taken on him…Sam's eyes overflowed and he pulled his knees in, resting his arms on his knees, gripping his head as so many thing became clear, like biblical revelations, so painfully sharp and bright that they seared through him…he never knew how much Dean suffered for him, how much punishment he took upon himself so the his baby bro would never see….Sam wept silently as Dean's anguish washed over him. Joining his pain in a twisted, terrible clash in his mind…"It's all my fault…Dean…Please forgive me…it's all my fault, not yours,…" he whispered silently, helplessly, to himself as his lost, broken, tormented brother, his best friend in the world,…slipped into his private Hell, never knowing that only a narrow wall separated him from the only one he loved, the only remnant of his family that remained, whom he held onto so fiercely so as not to shatter and slip away completely….

A wall separating them, masking their personal damnations from each other at all costs…because to let down the wall would loose a suffering upon one another that could tear their broken psyches' asunder forever…