~ ~ ~
It's like being in a noisy, crowed space and not being able to make out a single word. It's like visiting the most beautiful place in the world and not being able to see a thing. It's like looking in the mirror and not being able to find your own reflection.
It's the absence of understanding. The absence of sensing. The absence of self.
Dean knows it's the effects of depression that are making everything seem both heavy and empty at the same time. He knows it's the depression that causes him to wish for the pain of his injuries to intensify just so that he can feel something real and true. The words contained in Castiel's confession are like a noose choking the life out of him, and he knows it's the depression that wants that noose to tighten to the point that there's no breath remaining to give the condemning words life.
The weight of the burden of those words is extraordinarily heavy. It's heavier than anything he's ever experienced, and he can feel himself being crushed by it in an almost horrifyingly literal sense. For the first time in his life, the guilt is more than he can just push down and repress. This feeling is sharper and more intense that those brought up from his time spent torturing souls in Hell. This is so much worse. Immeasurably worse.
Sam is watching him and throwing him looks that ask so many questions at the same time as they beg for so many answers. But Dean knows there is nothing he can say to appease his brother. How can a person even fathom accepting the fact that they will eventually be responsible for billions of deaths let alone find the words to express the unimaginable pain and guilt that comes along with that realization?
It'll never be possible.
So he remains silent.
Dean was released from the hospital three days after the beating he'd received at the hands of Alastair. The hospital had only seen fit to keep him for three whole days. The bastards.
Sam's been worried because the cuts and bruises on his brother's face still stand out in sharp contrast to Dean's otherwise pale complexion. The cuts and bruises are stark reminders of what his brother endured, and it hurts something deep inside him to have to look at them mar his brother's face. The injury to Dean's throat had been the most severe, and the swelling had been the thing that concerned the doctors the most. They'd had to intubate him the first day because of it, but the swelling had quickly gone down. A couple ribs had been bruised as well, but none were broken. They'd also been monitoring him for internal bleeding due to the heavy bruising on his lower abdomen but none was found.
So three days after receiving a beating that left him a complete mess and would have killed any other man, Dean was released into his brother's care with explicit instructions to bring him back in if there was any additional abdominal pain or problems with his breathing.
Sam paid a week's rental on a clean motel room in the same town and make sure everything was set up and ready for when Dean came 'home.'
It's been two days since Dean was released from the hospital, and Dean should have started both looking better and moving around more.
But he hasn't.
Sam knows that something happened in the hospital that Dean's not talking about. He knows it has something to do with Castiel. He'd heard the angel's deep voice as he'd approached his brother's room, but the angel had vanished by the time he'd gotten there.
Sam knows whatever was said messed with his brother's head. Prior to Castiel dropping in, Dean had already been threatening in a barely there voice to leave the hospital AMA. After the visit, Dean had withdrawn into himself and hadn't given anyone more than one word responses, a slight nod of the head, or a shrug of the shoulders in response to anything he'd been asked.
The doctors probably chalked up his near silence to the fact that it was still painful for him to speak. Sam, however, knew that that wasn't the case. His brother's eyes held a haunted expression that he'd rarely ever seen, and he knew that something else was behind the sudden silence.
Sam's worried, so very worried, but he knows that if he tries to force Dean to open up it'll only make matters worse and cause him to withdraw even more. He knows this, but he also knows Dean can't go on like this forever. He's seen his brother down before, but it's never been this bad; not even when their father died.
Dean's lying in bed with a couple pillows propping him up just enough to allow him to see the television. Some western is on that they've both seen a hundred times, but neither of them is really watching it. It's time for Dean's evening dose of pain pills, antibiotics, and muscle relaxers; however, Sam wants to try to get him to take a bath before the pills knock him out for the rest of the night. And it's not that Dean can't do it himself, it's just that he seems to need encouragement to do everything since getting out of the hospital; encouragement to talk, to eat, to bathe, to get out of the bed and walk around a little to keep his muscles from getting stiff and tight.
He hates seeing his brother like this, but he knows there's nothing he can do about it. So he does the only thing that he can do which is try to take care of him to the best of his ability. He stops pretending that he's been reading something on his laptop and starts to make his way across the rented space to the bathroom.
"Dean, I'm going to run you a bath." Sam says as he pauses at the foot of his brother's bed.
Dean, whose mind is currently focused on nothing at all, doesn't respond even though his eyes are wide open and he's looking directly at the television that Sam is partially blocking.
"Dean, did you hear me?" Sam asks again, voice shaking almost unperceptively.
"I'm going to run you a bath, and then I'm going to get you your pills." Sam says again as he places his hand on Dean's foot to get his attention.
The look in Dean's eyes as they slowly move to focus on his face are the scariest thing he's ever seen. In that moment, his brother reminds him of one of those giant dolls with large, lifeless, unblinking eyes, and Sam feels his stomach bottom out.
"Dean?" Sam asks as he slowly pulls his hand away.
"Okay," Dean says in an almost equally lifeless voice as he finally blinks and turns his attention back to the television.
"Oh-okay, yeah," Sam says as he quickly continues to make his way to the bathroom on legs that suddenly feel like they aren't going to be strong enough to keep him up.
He hates seeing his brother like this, but he knows there's nothing he can do about it. Sam's worried, so very worried, but he knows that if he tries to force Dean to open up it'll only make matters worse and cause him to withdraw even more. Sam knows that something happened in the hospital that Dean's not talking about. Not knowing what to do to get Dean out of the current headspace he's trapped in, Sam does the only thing he can which is to take care of his big brother to the best of his ability.
Sam puts the stopper in the tub and fills it with comfortably warm water.
This is something that he can do.
~ ~ ~
The water feels amazing.
That's the only clear thought Dean has.
The water feels warm and amazing and all encompassing, and all he wants to do is become a part of it. He wants to join it, because it's the only comfort he's felt in what feels like a really, really long time. And to him, being comforted after so long feels good.
It's not what he came in here intending to do. It's not why he asked Sam to pull the door mostly closed. But it may be why he's not fighting. That and other reasons too painful to consider.
The warmth of the water is amazing, and with one leg hanging out of the tub and the other bent at the knee and completely out of the water, it almost feels natural the way his upper body and head slowly slide underneath the water until his face is completely covered.
The water going up his nose and down his throat is warm, and it really doesn't feel like he's choking on it if he doesn't fight its filling embrace.
The water feels amazing.
That's the only clear thought Dean has.
To him, this isn't suicide.
To him, this is the peace of sweet release.
~ ~ ~
Sam's heart is beating so fast it feels like it's going to punch its way out of his chest. He's been in the waiting area of the emergency room for the last hour and a half, and he still hasn't heard anything regarding his brother's condition. However, just as he's about to go to the nurse in reception for the fifth time to see what the hell is taking so long, a haggard looking doctor makes his way into the waiting area and asks for the brother of 'Dean Johnston.'
Sam quickly walks over to the doctor, but before he can fire off any questions, the doctor gives him the hand gesture that universally stands for 'follow me.' Sam is about to protest before he realizes the doctor is leading him to the smaller, more private waiting area adjoined to the main waiting area.
Sam doesn't wait to be offered a seat. The fact that he's been led into a more isolated area is more than enough to make him weak in the knees, and he's grateful for the fact that he doesn't have to go far to sit down.
After settling himself in a chair across from the younger man, the doctor finally introduces himself.
"My name is Dr. Peterson. I'm looking after your brother."
"Oh, God," Sam says as he raises a hand to his rapidly beating heart.
"I thought – since you brought me in here, I thought you – I thought he was –" Sam rushes out in broken bits and pieces as an instant flood of relief washes through him at hearing that Dean is still alive.
"Your brother will be just fine, and he should recover completely assuming he doesn't suffer any complications. We are concerned; however, about the extensive cuts and bruises covering your brother's body. Would you happen to know how he received those?" The doctor asks in a tone that makes Sam's stomach turn because it sounds very much like the man thinks he had something to do with them.
"He was mugged about a week ago, sir." Sam says in a voice that sounds so sincere he almost believes his own lie.
"A couple guys jumped him and took his wallet."
The doctor instinctively knows he's not being told the entire truth. He knows it; yet, the lie is enough to pass inspection if anyone asks, and the truth of the matter is his current caseload is a heavy one. There's no outward reason for him to dwell on this particular case other than being presented with a man who almost drowned who also happens to be covered from head to toe with bruises.
"Your brother was jumped. Okay." The doctor says as he adds a few quick notes to the thin folder in his hands before quickly closing the file.
"Your brother is in room 204. I'll have a nurse show you the way." The doctor says as he stands to leave the room.
"Yes, thank you," Sam says as he quickly moves to follow.
For Sam, finally being able to see with his own eyes that his brother is truly okay is the only thing on his mind.
Maybe that's why when Dean lets slip the fact that he didn't fall asleep and sink into the water as much as he actually let himself slide into it Sam finds it difficult to accept his brother's words. Dean is never not okay. He always makes it. He's always okay. Nothing ever knocks him down and keeps him there.
Nothing until this.
And even though the situation is what it is, and his brother did what he did, Sam still can't shake the complete wrongness of it all.
~ ~ ~
Dean is lying in bed staring up at the ceiling. Sam is sitting in a chair beside said bed looking at his brother. The atmosphere is tense, but it's no where near as tense as the conversation. Both brothers are speaking in lowered, hushed tones; one because he doesn't have the energy to do much more and the other because confusion and grief are choking him to the point where he can barely speak at all.
"Why, Dean? Why'd you do it?" Sam asks placing his hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to remain strong for his brother's sake even though they can both hear the obvious quiver in his voice.
"It's all my fault, Sammy. It's all my fault." Dean says, words coming out of his mouth sounding just as dry and emotionless as sandpaper.
"What, Dean? What's all your fault?"
"All this time," Dean says, "- all this time I never knew it was all my fault."
"Dean?" Sam asks as he watches his brother close his eyes releasing twin tracks of tears that quickly travel down the sides of his pale, bruised face.
"Dean?" Sam asks again as his own tears finally fall.
But Dean doesn't respond. He simply turns his head away from his brother and does his best to tune the world out. He does his best not to think about how Hell has followed him topside. He does his best to just keep breathing.
And as Dean continues to shut him out, Sam sits and waits.
He hates seeing his brother like this, but he knows there's nothing he can do about it. Sam's worried, so very worried, but he knows that if he tries to force Dean to open up it'll only make matters worse and cause him to withdraw even more. Sam knows that something happened to his brother in the hospital a week ago, but Dean's not talking about it.
Sam accepted the fact a long time ago that there are things in this life that he cannot change. All anyone can do is have the courage to move forward. So not knowing how to get Dean out of the painfully tight grasp of depression, Sam does the only thing he can which is to take care of his big brother to the best of his ability.
the end