No ownership
His Curse
He wakes up in sweat. Sometimes in tears.
Most of the time, it was because he was reliving hell. The torture, the pain, the screaming. It would be abnormal if he didn't have nightmares about it.
Usually, he gets up. He shakes it off. He goes to the mini-fridge stocked with beer and pops a cap as quietly as he could—for his brother's sake. For his brother's sake, he'll pretend it never happen. And after finishing two or three bottles (and stashing them somewhere safe—like behind a trash bin) he climbs back into bed, and spends the rest of the night staring at the ceiling.
It was his coping mechanism. The only way he could pretend that it was all okay.
But sometimes, he won't get up. He won't shake it off and he won't drown his worries in a six-pack. Sometimes, he just lays there.
And he stares at the peeling ceiling and the crooked windows and his brother's peaceful form in the bed next to him—and he wonders.
He's never been able to talk about his feelings out loud—not really. He's not like Sammy, he can't let it out. Not with someone else in the room. Because it was always him. He had to be the strong one. If not for the other person, then for himself. Mostly for Sammy.
His little brother. He would never forget the days when Sammy would walk up to him and ask where their dad was, or whatever happened to Mom. Protecting him was priority. Protecting his childhood was topnotch.
He had always told him to quit asking. The answers would have gotten both of them killed.
When their dad died, it was like a wake-up call. A reminder that he did have something to lose. Something precious. He wanted to protect Sammy all the more then. Because he was his only family now.
But by the time he figured out Ruby was a demon, it was far too late. He lost his little brother. And it was his fault. He cost Sammy his innocence. Who knows—maybe he cost his brother his life. He screwed up.
The angels had something against him, they have to. So does The High and Mighty himself. From the very second he was born.
He keeps staring at the ceiling. Only when dawn breaks through and the first rays of gray make it through the glass, only when Sam's pushing him to get up and get ready for the road—only then does he bury back his questions and wonderings, and get up to go through yet another day.
He'll smile and tell Sam "Good Morning, Sunshine," before smirking and stealing his fruit bar. He'll laugh when he tries to get it back, and then he'll call him a sissy and tease him about how lucky he is to have a big brother like him to man him up.
But really.
He doesn't know what to do.
The ache is there. It's always there.
He can never get rid of it. Not with a six-pack, a one-night-stand—even a gun to his heart.
He doesn't know how to get rid of it.
He needs help.
But he doesn't know what to do.
It was his curse.
A/N: Made in twenty minutes, last night. When I was watching the newest ep. The last scene with Dean was very emotional -grabs a virtual tissue and blows nose-
P.S. I did not know Jensen was engaged. o_O Jeezuz, it's too bad...