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Chapter 1: Born To Run
"I don't even know what I'm doing anymore." Dean whispered, staring at his ceiling.
"…I'm no god-damn hero." He growled, in a sudden wave disgust and anger.
He was alone, not just in his room, but in everything else. He had been spending his nights like this for while now, sleeping only for about an hour then waking up and drowning himself in thoughts of guilt for another four. It wasn't healthy, he knew it, but he didn't care.
'I should've done something…I shouldn't have waited so long to tell Sam…something, anything…and maybe that kid would still be here', his thoughts were spinning. He had been beating himself about Kevin and Tara lately, though usually it was Kevin. He couldn't even bring himself to say his name anymore, but like clockwork, it triggered the memory of that night on the bridge. He tried to resist but it forced its way back into his thoughts anyway:
"I was willing to die. And now...Kevin", Sam rasped. Dean's expression grew hard at the memory, He hated being constantly reminded how easily his little brother took to the idea of death. He heard his own voice drag forward," …Kevin's blood is on my hands. And that ain't ever getting clean. I'll burn for that. I will." He knows that now more than ever.
He started rushing through the memory; each word now hitting him like a train."…I'll find Gadreel and I will end that son of a bitch. But I'll do it alone…", he could hear himself say, "can't you see, I'm poison. People get close to me they get killed, or worse. I tell myself I help more people than I hurt and I tell myself that I'm doing it all for the right reasons and I believe that. But I can't - I won't drag anybody into the muck with me - not anymore."
Dean was clenching his jaw now; trying to stop the rush of emotions that were threatening to break him again. He tried to clear the memory but he still managed to hear the faint echo of Sam's answer, "…Go. I'm not going to stop you. But don't go thinking that's the problem because it's not." He could still see their faces, the look that confirmed that he was on his own.
He is the problem. He is poison. Those who don't die, he deceives. Those who he deceives, he loses. It's that simple. He used to tell himself he was doing the right thing, and for a moment, he believed it. Now it's nothing more than a bullshit excuse he uses to convince himself to get up in the morning, because in the end, Sam was right…he just doesn't want to be alone. And now, He felt like he just lost Sam and Cas all over again. And even though Sam did come back, it doesn't help that Cas is still god knows where. Sam said he left suddenly and he looked startled, saying nothing except that it was "urgent".
Dean looked empty. He lied like that for a couple more minutes before he sat up and swung his legs off the bed. He checked the clock: 5:00 am. He groaned, dragged his hand across his face, and chose to get ready anyway. After all, he still has to keep up appearances for Sammy. "…And Cas, if he ever decides to get his ass back here." he added aloud, as he pushed himself off the bed. It was vain attempt, but he voiced it just in case Cas was listening.
When Sam entered the library he found Dean reading…wait…no, that cant be right…he tried to blink to see if it was an illusion. But Satan was not toying with his mind this time, it was really Dean, and that was really a book in his hands. Sure Dean skims over articles and books for quick information, but never actually reads. Over all, He was just relived to see he wasn't in his usual state of perpetual brooding; the one in which he is slumped over in a chair, slowly turning a blade between his hands, and staring at it as if it was going to tell him all the answers to his problems. A small smile formed on his lips at the rare sight and with an air of amusement he silently strode beside him and teased, "what are you doing?"
Dean had dropped the book, jumped up, and faced him in one swift move. He hated being snuck up on but he had relaxed as soon as he realized it was Sam. Dean snatched up the pile of notes and patted the small stack against the chest of his incredibly confused brother, "I got us a case, partner!" he exclaimed sarcastically as he slid by. Dean had been deliberately not using the words "Sammy" or "little brother" since Sam's 'we're not brothers' speech. Sam just ignored it, his hand went up to catch the papers and he was now combing though the words. Dean strode to the table, opened up the computer, and turned it toward Sam. "there been some disappearances nearby that look like our territory"
"And what's this?" Sam gestured at the papers.
"It's a list of people who claimed to have seen the monster and some ideas of what it could be, but there's not much to go off of."
"Ok-ay", Sam said, a little suspicious.
"Don't act like it's a big surprise, I'm tired of just sitting here waiting to hear news from Crowley about that damn blade." It was mostly true, he was tired of doing nothing, but he also needed a distraction from the guilt that was starting to drive him insane.
