Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure I don't own Supernatural. Dean and Sam don't belong to me. I wish they did! The fun I would have!...But alas they are the property of Kripke. No money is being made from this.
Spoilers: Bloody Mary
A/N: My first EVER fanfiction so please at least till I get the marshmallows before you flame….
Dean had not thought of that night in such a long time. He simply had shoved it in a box labelled "dangerous and painful" locked it and buried it under sarcastic remarks, bravo and a winning smile. But he had never really forgotten. Never allowed himself the luxury of forgetting. It was his fault. His fault that that little boy had died. If he had been quicker, smarter… Dad would have gotten him out, Sammy would have figured it out so that he was never in the position to be hurt- but Dean had no such claim to fame. He didn't need Mary to tell him that.
If he was honest with himself- that little boy was not the only life that could have been saved if only he had been better. But his was the one that still haunted his sleep almost nightly. Not always enough so that he woke to free himself of it. Sometimes it was just remembering the sweet smiling face as he trusted Dean to help him and his family; when he had offered Dean a cookie and to play with him and his toy soldiers. Sometimes he would hear his innocent voice proudly declaring that his name was Charlie and that his daddy had named him that even before he was born but mummy had said that she wanted him to called Sean but he didn't like that name cause he didn't like the boy in his class whose name was Sean and didn't want to be like him cause then his daddy wouldn't like him as much as he did now cause he was a good boy and had gotten a new shinny red bike for his sixth birthday cause mummy said that he was such a good boy… Yeah sometimes he could hear Charlie as he raced to say everything that had happened in his short six years of life before Dean had even sat down on the couch. Sometimes he saw him as the innocent, lively kid who had wanted Dean as his new best friend, sometimes…
More often than not he was haunted by the accusation in Charlie's eyes. He saw the stillness that had claimed the previous lively boy who had a sense of constant motion about him. He heard the terrified screams; screams for help, of pure terror and the ones that hurt Dean the most- the ones that begged for him to save them.
But he hadn't. He had failed them. Murdered them. And he had never told anyone. He had shoved it in his box and hidden it. Hidden it but never letting himself forget it. Sometimes when he was drunk enough, he would take it out of the box , examine it, pointing out to himself exactly what he had done wrong and what he could have done differently.. Should have done differently. What dad would have done differently and what Sammy would have figured out quicker.
Dean wasn't Sammy. He wasn't Dad. And because of him Charlie had died. Now he cried blood for his mistakes. He deserved what Mary would dish out to him. But Sammy…Sammy didn't. So with stubborn determination he ignored the pain and reached for the mirror.
He didn't need Mary to punish him for his mistake…he could do it himself.
A/N: This is what happens when you watch Supernatural when you are ill with flu. Please review and let me know what you think! Reviews feed the muse and flames cook the marshmallows...
