99 Bottles of Beer
A/n: Okay, I've got no idea where this story came from. One minuet, I was watching Swan Song and the next I was typing. So, here's the product.
Warning: Dark themes involving grief, self injury, suicidal thoughts and lots of angst.
Summary: After Sam throws himself into the pit, Dean grieves and finally (sort of) starts the healing process.
99 bottles of beer in the fridge, 99 bottles of beer...
Okay, so maybe Dean wasn't the best at dealing with grief. Maybe he wasn't the best at dealing with this feeling that dominated him ever since Sam threw himself into the pit. This gnawing, pulling, tearing, fucking ripping sensation in his chest. Dean thought Hell was bad, but this is something worse. This is something that doesn't want to torture him to break him, or to turn him into another demonic bitch- this feeling had no purpose. No reason to torture him other then to remind him of the brother he lost, of the family he lost. See, the reason Dean lasted so long in Hell before breaking is because he could think of Sam, and what Sam would think of him if he saw him now. Whenever Dean thinks about Sam now all he wants to do is literally drown himself in booze, or finally take one of his knives out of the Impala's trunk and slice his wrists so deep that there would be no going back. But Dean knows he can't do that.
98 bottles of beer in the fridge, 98 bottles of beer...
Dean only came back to Lisa because Sam made him promise. Dean didn't think he could make it through the next minuet, even the next second, knowing that his brother just sacrificed himself for the world and all Dean's doing is sitting at a kitchen table in a nice house, surrounded by a nice family. They don't deserve to be tainted by his grief. So, a lot of the time, Dean sneaks away at night when Lisa and Ben thinks he's asleep. Truth be told, Dean doesn't do much sleeping anymore.
97 bottles of beer in the fridge, 97 bottles of beer...
He usually sneaks out to the Impala. Dean will sit in the drivers seat and thrust in one of his AC/DC or Metallica or B.O.C tapes. His heart clenches when he looks over to the passenger seat, expecting to hear a scoff or see Sam's patented bitch face, and every time, Sam's not there. And every time, Dean wonders how quick it would be to end himself. How easy and simple it would be. And the only thing that stops him, each and every goddamn time is the sound of Sam's voice in his head.
"Go live some normal, apple pie life. Promise me Dean. Promise me." The whisper echos throughout Dean's mind and all he can do at that point is sigh, and shake his head. Sometimes Dean cries. But a lot of the time, he just has another beer.
96 bottles of beer in the fridge, 96 bottles of beer...
There are times when Dean is so fucking tired of being sad and depressed that he flies into this rage. Dean makes sure that he gets away from Lisa and Ben when this happens, they shouldn't have to see him like that. Dean would take a long drive and cuss up a storm the entire time until he felt better, or scream the lyrics to an angry Metallica song. But there are times when his anger isn't so easily satisfied. Those are the times when Dean realizes he is angry at Sam. Not just angry. Dean is pissed! How could Sam just throw himself into Hell like that and leave Dean here all alone? How could he possibly expect Dean to carry on without him? Why did it have to Dean and Sam who had to sacrifice everything? Why, dammit, why?
95 bottles of beer in the fridge, 95 bottles of beer...
Dean tries not to sleep anymore. He doesn't want to. He fucking can't! His nightmares are a million times worse now. He see's himself in Hell getting tortured, sometimes by a demonic looking Sam. Or, there are the nightmares where Dean is torturing Sam, breaking him, hurting him. But those aren't the worst. The worst nightmares are always the same. They are the dreams that wake Dean up screaming, sending Lisa into a panic until she realizes that she's safe, everyone is safe. Sometimes Dean lets her comfort him. Other times, he'll just ask her for a beer. In this nightmare, Dean imagines the cage in Hell. He imagines this wall of fire that's both unbearably hot and bitingly cold. Shackles encase Dean's wrists and ankles. He can't move, he can't speak, all he can do is watch. Lucifer and Micheal take turns torturing Sam, they each dig into his soul in ways that even Dean's never thought of before. And the entire time Sam is crying out Dean's name in a never ending chant of pain, hope and betrayal. "Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean..." Dean thinks he hates his name now.
94 bottles of beer in the fridge, 94 bottles of beer...
Lisa's trying to be understanding. Dean can see that. She'll look at him with this pitying concern and when he averts his bloodshot and heavily bagged eyes away. She'll sigh but refrain from saying anything. And, Dean thinks, that's another reason he stays.
93 bottles of beer in the fridge, 93 bottles of beer...
She doesn't ask about Sam. Thank God... actually, Dean's still pretty pissed at God and insists He should go screw Himself whenever He is brought up so, thank Castiel that she doesn't, because Dean doesn't think he could handle that. Dean never brings Sam up and Ben doesn't ask. Thank Castiel, they also don't ask why he sleeps with one of Sam's shirts tucked under his pillow, or why there's a picture of Sam secretly tucked away in his shirt pocket- the shirt he was wearing when Sam jumped into the pit. This shirt hasn't been washed, probably never will be washed, and is currently hanging out in the very back of Dean's half of the closet. Thankfully, they don't ask why the knife Dean carries around with him has the initials S.W. carved into it. Thankfully, when Dean wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, Lisa doesn't mention that he yells out the same name every single time.
92 bottles of beer in the fridge, 92 bottles of beer...
After a while, Dean thinks the grief is lessening. Unfortunately, as soon as he thinks that he's hit with a wave of betrayal- how could Dean possibly stop obsessing over Sam's death? How could he do that to his brother, who gave up everything for him? Dean's never been a self-injurer, despite everything he's ever been through in his entire life. But this time, it's different. It's Sam. He picks up Sam's knife that day and digs it into his skin. Dean rips the knife across his forearm and throws his head back in endorphin-induced relief and lets the knife drop to the bathroom floor. Unfortunately, he doesn't realize that Lisa had just gotten home from work, and walked in to take a shower.
She doesn't say anything. Lisa just bends down, grabs a clean towel and applies pressure to the wound. Dean would have protested, but he couldn't breath through the tears he suddenly realized were running down his face. Dean starts to choke on the tears, the grief, on the fucking pain and loss and everything is just so fucked up! His brother is gone- how could anyone expect him to fucking survive that?
"I miss him." Dean admitted brokenly. Lisa looked up at him, and her face betrayed no emotion besides compassion.
"I know." She said as she went about fixing Dean's arm. Then, Dean started talking. He talked for hours that night- about nothing and everything. The smallest thing Sam did one day to their big showdown with Lucifer and Michael. Lisa just listens, nods when appropriate, and even gives a few sad smiles. She cried a few times, but tried to stay brave for Dean, and Dean thinks he loves her all the more for it. When he's finished talking, there's a long moment of silence when neither of them knew what to say. They're still sitting on the bathroom floor, and Sam's knife is still lying next to Dean- covered in his blood.
Lisa's eyes searched Dean's as though wondering whether or not she should say anything. She didn't want to break whatever spell had befallen them, didn't want to risk hurting the healing process that Dean seemed to be going through. Dean's eyes were shinning, although he hadn't cried for the last few hours. He had dried tear tracks down both his cheeks and, from the stiffness in her face, Lisa assumed she had the same. Dean's eyes were staring into hers, begging her to fix a pain that probably could never be completely healed. Lisa couldn't pretend to understand, so she didn't.
Instead, Lisa grabbed Dean's hands, stared back into his eyes and said the only thing that she thought would comfort him at that moment. "Sam loved you, Dean. You two are always going to be brothers. That love's never going to go away. And, just because he's gone, doesn't mean it has to."
Dean smiled shakily at her, pulled Lisa into a long hug and thought that maybe he wouldn't be needing those last 91 beers after all. Not tonight, at least.