Disclaimer: Supernatural © Eric Kripke
Author's Note: Just an idea that I thought I'd work with on the side of my other fic. Small prologue, chapters will be larger I promise! :-) What do you think? Continue with it? Dean/Cas shall ensue in later chapters.
For most people, it's easy to tell when their life has gone down the shit hole. For others it takes a little while before they realize the life choices they made could possibly have been better judged, though at the time they most likely had no clue as to what would come as consequence. Generally it's those people that are confronted with the 'oh shit' moment at the last possible minute, and then they're scrambling to figure out where they possibly went wrong.
Of course, there's lots of validation for their actions, as one would say. As stated, at the time everything in life didn't seem to matter. In fact, that extra beer, even though they're shit faced, didn't seem like a bad idea—at the time. The same goes for the out all night party goers who decided that, yes, those questionable pills did sound like fun—at the time. It's just one more, right?
Just one more leads to the next 'one more' which leads to the next, then so on and so forth, until said person has spiraled down so far, they're hangin' out with good old Lucifer in the Pit.
Which, again, they still don't realize since they're too far gone at that point.
In fact it was something quite similar for infamous party goer, Dean Winchester, ladies man extraordinaire, with alcoholic tendencies to boot. He buried himself in so much denial, that he even got everyone else in denial for him as well!
With a simple, "Dude, chill! Maybe you're the alcoholic and you're just in denial." He'd turn the situation on the person who called him out on his drinking habits, and sometimes even managed to get the other person to check into AA meetings. He had enough of their 'x-amount of years clean' coins they'd given him as thanks to fill his Impala as proof.
And though they say ignorance is bliss, in life or death situations, it calls for a time to step up to the plate and take responsibility for your actions. Which is exactly the kind of thing that Dean did not do.
Nope.
Even after being found by his younger brother in yet another slum motel room, barely breathing and the floor littered in empty bottles, Dean was still in denial about his 'problem,' as he put it. There'd been quite a large amount of punching and shouting until Sammy had taken control of the situation by calling in their family friend, and practically second dad, Bobby for help.
Between the two of them they'd managed to shove a barely conscious Dean down onto the bed while they gave him one of their many 'we're worried about you and your life' talks. They'd made it about halfway through their speech, which they both had memorized at that point, when the bile rose in Dean's throat, just barely managing to make it into the bathroom.
In fact he hadn't, and ended up emptying half of his stomach's contents on the way to the toilet, and the rest of it inside the porcelain bowl. He stayed their for another half hour, Sam rubbing his back to soothe him while quietly whispering words of comfort to his older brother. It was in times like those Sam realized just how fucked up the situation was.
Bobby had once again taken the liberty to clean up the vomit to help air out the room of its rancid smell. He took a mental note: that was the 6th time in 2 months that they had to go searching for Dean's drunken ass, only to find him a sobbing mess while he clutched the toilet as his body tried to hurl the alcohol out of his system.
Both Sam and Bobby were so worn out from their late night expeditions to drag Dean back to the world of the living. They'd tried to sign him up for AA meetings early on, before things got worse, but would get a hearty laugh from the man in question and, what they'd later find to be a false statement, of, "Guys, thanks and all but I'm fine. Just chill, there's nothing wrong." More often than not it was right after they listened to those words fall from his mouth that Dean would find himself on another drinking binge, just barely holding onto life.
It'd finally gotten to the point where they'd decided to take better control of the situation.
Come morning, Dean would find himself not waking up to the familiar sight of Bobby's old worn out house, but instead to the white washed walls and smell of a hospital.
The time had finally come for rehab.