I could lay here for hours. Days even. I've been tired before, but this…this was different.
Feeling every muscle ache, almost like when you have got a fever, but constant. Almost would go as far as saying Hell was easier than this. In Hell, you were just surviving, damned, but surviving. But right now, I felt like ...well, if there was an edge to fall off, I was hanging by a thread. It sucked, it sucked so badly.
Sleeping seemed like a distant memory. I was lucky to get a few hours, even before the mark – But now? Heh, if walls could speak.
If I wasn't feeling feverish, I was anxious and if I was anxious …whiskey was a good friend.
Charlie left a while back, maybe two days, a week..? I really don't remember. Sammy pulled a Bobby and found her a good ole salt and burn a few states over, I think. Nothing she can't handle.
A salt and burn. Those were the good days. No Angels, No demons, no friggin Mark of Cain. Just a baddie who needed to be killed. Well, re-killed.
Everything is different now and I hate it.
I hear a knock against my open door. Sam is standing there. Well I can't see him because my eyes are closed, but I know that it's my little brother.
"Dean?"
Sam says, tone tentative . I swear that he is still that snot nosed, whiny 4 year old.
I grunt, not feeling up to much of a conversation.
"It's been days man. –" Oh boy, here we go.
"Sam. Do we have to do this right now?"
I could literally feel Sam's eyes roll. Sitting up, slouching I look at my freakishly tall brother. "Sammy…I'm tired, okay? Like really tired."
"I miss goin' out there and actually being able to save people. Salt n burns, clean-no questions asked kills. Now it just seems …it all just feels like a crap shoot. Our 'good days' are crappy. Our bad days are train wrecks. Sam, I..I don't know h—"
Boy, did I sound like a gibberish mess. Sam looked like he either wanted to punch me or cry. A common look for him, but either way, I didn't wanna have this conversation. Again.
"Dean, we're gonna figure this out.—"
"No. Sammy, we're not. I am. This is my mess." Dammit, I was standing up now and crap, my knees ached.
"Cas and I will find a way…"
There it was. The jaw grinding, the rigid pose and the breathing deeply. Sam was so obvious sometimes.
"No, Damn it! Sam. I don't want you to find a way. Cas can't help me. "
I feel like we've had this discussion before…
"You act like this is normal, like all the times we've been in this type of crap hole, that it's normal. Dean…I am going to find a way out of this. You may have given up, but you're brother and I'm not going to give up on you."
If this wasn't such a heavy conversation, I definitely would've nominated him for a Daytime Emmy Award for best Female performance.
He turned and started to leave.
"Where are you going?" I ask but not sure if I really care.
"I'm going to get you out of this Dean." his tone stubborn and creepily like Dad's.
He leaves and I'm standing here. Running a hand over my face, I lean down and grab my good friend whiskey. Taking a swig, I sit and then lay back.
I could lay here for hours. Days even. I've been tired before, but this…this was different.