It was just a normal hunt. Started normal, went normal and ended normal. In hindsight, that was probably the problem. They didn't get normal, and Dean knew that.
They were driving along some random backroad in the middle of nowhere Kansas when Dean felt it. This tightness in his chest- almost bordering on pain. He knew from experience that this tightness was gonna turn into a shredding sensation.
Hellhounds gonna get you dean, you gonna die.
He also knew that breathing was gonna suck in a few moments and that the hot flashes usually played with his head.
Burnin in hell like you deserve, you gonna die boy.
Dean was no stranger to panic attacks, but this was the first time that hiding and riding it out alone wasn't an option for him. He never wanted Sammy to see him like this.
You weak little fuck! Can't even keep your fear under control? How do you expect to keep everyone safe if you can't even drive down the road without falling apart at the seems? You gonna die boy and take everyone you love with you!
Dean pulled the Impala to the shoulder of the road- ignoring the concerned exclamations of Sam, Mom and Bobby- and scrambled to get out of the confining space.
He's not even the real Bobby remember? You got him killed. He died and went to hell because of you. You couldn't save him, and you can't save yourself. You don't deserve to be saved. You deserve hell, you deserve death. You gonna die boy.
"Dean? You okay man?" Sam's voice was usually reassuring to Dean, but not now. Now it was a reminder of all the times he had failed as Sam's brother.
Dean couldn't have responded if he had wanted to because his chest was already seizing up in pain.
Hellhounds were on him! Get them off! Off! OFF! I'm gonna die!
Dean went to his knees clutching at his chest- taking in desperate, gasping breaths. Hands were all over his body. Clawing hands. Desperate voices all shouting unintelligible things at him. Dean tried his best to get them to stop, to tell them that he was fine for God's sake!
Burning- it's so hot. Gotta Keep Sammy safe! I'm gonna fucking die! I wanna die, I wanna die! Please just make it stop!
Dean was on fire. He was in hell. Alistair's blades in his chest, under his skin, and in his heart. He was whispering things to him. Dean couldn't breath, he couldn't breath- he was gonna die and end up with his Master again, and his Master would not be pleased.
"Dean? Dean! What's going on? Talk to us!" Family, just concerned family.
Just like that it was gone. All of it. All the pain, all the voices, and all the fear. Back into his neat little box were he put all his problems. Dean knew that he was gonna be feeling the after affects of this for hours, and that there was a chance to trigger another.
Dean shook off the hand and concerns of his family. Buried his neat little box in the back of his mind where it could only bother him in his nightmares, and headed back to his Impala.