Sleeves
Dean looked over at his sleeping brother. A tear slips from his eye as he looks down at the knife in his hand. Sadness is overwhelming him. I'm the reason why Dad is dead, its my fault, I wont be able to save Sam, I already have let him get hurt so much, I couldn't protect him... I'm worthless, I don't deserve to live. Dean looks down at his wrists, he brings the knife closer to his arm. Then he pushed the knife down and dragged it across his wrist. A deep scarlet line appears, blood drips out of the cut and onto the towel underneath his arm. Then he brings the knife across his wrist again and again. 5 more scarlet lines appear, some overlapping other leaving a little pool of blood on the towel. Dean gets up and goes to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He throws the towel out the window. Then he rinses off the blood on the knife and then his arm, wincing as the cold water hit his cuts. Dean grabs bandages from the first aid kit that he carries with him and cleans himself up. He rolls his sleeves back down and goes to bed.
Sam
Sam lays there, pretending to be asleep as he hears his brother get up and go to the bathroom. He wonders why Dean had been making late night bathroom trips. Sam sits up and rubs his eyes. He looks over at Deans empty bed, theres a small scarlet puddle. Sam is so confused and worried, but he hears the water shut off in the bathroom so he lays back down and pretends to be asleep. Tears roll down his face, wondering if Dean had hurt himself.
"Dean"
" What is it Sammy"
"Are you okay?"
"...I'm okay, just go back to sleep alright."
"Okay, goodnight."
"Night"