Hey guys. It's been a long week. Those of you who follow me know that my parents have been out of town and I basically adopted 5 children under the age of 12. I feel like a complete failure. They've eaten nothing but pizza, pop tarts, and corn dogs for the past four days. I'm a horrible sister.
Good news: My parents come home tomorrow. Bad news: I already relapsed with cutting because I'm a fucking failure.
Oh well. I'm writing this fanfiction to kinda deal with stuff. Trigger warning for self harm.
(Y/N is your name)
"Cas!" You cried out for the angel, cradling Sam's body in your arms. This was supposed to be a routine hunt. Shapeshifter, easy kill. But it had tricked you. And now Sam was dying. "I'm sorry, Sam...I'm so sorry..."
"Hey, s'okay." Even as he lay motionless, holding his guts in with his hand, Sam was trying to comfort you.
"No, it's not okay. I fucked up and you're dying."
"No one's dying, Y/N." Dean shouted from across the warehouse. He finally managed to stab the shifter with a silver blade. It fell to the ground, and he fired three silver bullets into its chest for good measure.
"Castiel!" You screamed.
Finally, a familiar trench-coated figure appeared in the dimly lit room. Without saying a word, he assessed the situation and healed Sam's wounds.
"Thanks, man." Sam sat up, brushing the hair out of his face.
"You are welcome." Cas nodded, and looked at you. "Are you all right, Y/N? You're shaking."
"Yeah, I'm fine. That was just way too close." You tried to calm down, telling yourself that everything was okay now. Sam would live, and the Shapeshifter was dead. All was well.
"Let's get you home." Dean put an arm around your shoulder.
"I'm fine." You said, shrugging it off. "Sam's the one who nearly died."
"But I didn't."
"Still."
The four of you walked to the Impala. "I'll meet you back at the Bunker." Castiel said before vanishing. He didn't particularly like car rides.
Two hours later you were finally home. You went straight to your room. You felt horrible. The boys had taken you in, they were your family. And how did you repay them? By almost getting them killed. The shifter had disguised itself as Sam, and let you right into a trap. The real Sam had jumped in to save you just in time, earning a blade to the stomach for his efforts.
You sighed and reached under your bed, pulling out a small box. You opened it and breathed a sigh of relief. It was still there: A shiny razor blade that had been your best friend for years.
Rolling up your sleeve, you made a small cut. The blood quickly came to the surface in a beaded line. You sighed. Sweet relief. This was so messed up. Why did it make you feel better?
Better, but not enough. More.
You made a few more cuts, each deeper than the last. The sting of the blade was lost in the flood of adrenaline.
Your trance was interrupted by a sharp knocking at your door. Panicking, you tossed the blade into your nightstand drawer and yanked your sleeve back down, concealing the gashes.
"Who is it?" You called out, cringing as you realized how high-pitched and suspicious your voice sounded.
"It's Sam. Can I come in?"
You sighed. "Sure." You tried to look natural, crossing your legs and sitting on your bed with a book in front of you.
The younger Winchester let himself in, and sat on the edge of your bed. "You okay?"
You laughed in disbelief. "You're the one got gutted by a Shapeshifter! Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just wanted to check on you, you know? You seemed a little shook up."
You forced a smile. "I'm okay. Just glad Cas got there when he did."
"Me too. Hey!" Concern filled Sam's eyes as he gestured to your sleeve. "You're bleeding. Why didn't you tell us earlier?"
Shit.
"Oh, it's nothing. You got the worst of it." You tried to hide it, but Sam wasn't gonna drop it that easily.
"Let me see it."
"No."
"Why not?" He looked confused.
"Because."
He chuckled. "Come on, Y/N. That's not an answer."
"Yes it is."
He shook his head, and grabbed your arm. He gently pulled your sleeve back, exposing the bleeding cuts. He inhaled sharply. "Y/N..."
You took advantage of his shock to tug your sleeve back down. You avoided his gaze.
"Did you do this to yourself?" He asked quietly, already knowing the answer.
You couldn't take it anymore. "You almost died, and it was all my fault. Everything is my fault. I'm always screwing up, because I am a screw up." You sobbed, unable to stop the tears.
Without a word, Sam crawled onto your bed and held you. He sat behind you, long arms wrapping around your waist. He kissed the top of your head, and sat in silence until you calmed down enough to talk.
"I'm sorry," You sniffled, feeling completely embarrassed.
"Don't be. Y/N, it wasn't your fault. We've all been fooled by shifters before. They can be crafty sons of bitches. Not everything is your fault. You've saved my ass more times than I can count."
"Thanks." You said softly.
He kissed your cheek. "Please stop hurting yourself. We need you in one piece. I need you." His ever-changing eyes were filled with love and concern.
You turned your head to look over your shoulder at the gentle giant. His soft hair fell in front of his eyes, and you brushed it aside. "I'll try."
"That's all I ask." He tenderly kissed your cheek.
You blushed and snuggled into his chest. His warmth was comforting.
If anyone could pick up your broken pieces, it would be Sam.