This was in the trash indefinitely but three wonderful gals helped me salvage it! Set a couple of months after Bruise Pristine, sorry for the confusion seeing as I just started posting PB which is almost two years later but I just wanted you guys to see more of who Dean is and why he is so screwed up in detail! FYI: It's just a one shot!
Summary: Hush, It's okay, Dry your eye, Soulmate dry your eye, Cause soulmates never die.
Side kick's/Editor's/Beta's- Bia1007, Eggylaine, Samantha V.
Sleeping with Ghosts
"Mom?"
"Yeah sweetie?" Mary turned around from the sink she was wiping to face her son.
"Do you think Dean's okay?"
Mary frowned, Sam never asked her if Dean was okay before. She was still learning about her new adopted child but had quickly found out that he was so independent he kept everything to himself if at all possible. He was like a mute clam... a mute clam with it's lips glued shut... She had reluctantly come to rely on Sam who always made it his duty to find out if something was bothering his new older brother before she even picked up on it.
"He was a little quiet yesterday but he seemed fine." Frowning she realised that she hadn't actually seen Dean at breakfast, and had only assumed he'd eaten. "Why, what's up?"
"Well...when he woke up this morning he was crying...and when I asked him about it he just yelled at me."
Okay, that wasn't really strange; the yelling anyway, the crying was a concern. Dean had yelled countless times since they met him, they had figured by now it was just his way of dealing with his upsets, by turning them to anger. At this point, depending on the situation, it usually got him a hand on the shoulder and an 'it's okay Dean, just settle down, everything's okay.' Or, if it got out of hand, sometimes Dean's yelling or swearing earned him a one way ticket to the bedroom he and Sam shared until he'd calm down. When he cooled off he always came from his bedroom on his own accord in his own time and usually apologized, they presumed on the times he didn't he might have been too embarrassed, or whatever it was, was just too personal. So angry and upset, those she had definitely seen, but she had rarely seen him cry.
"Well, that doesn't quite sound right. Do you think I need to speak with him?" and she noted the anxiety on his face. "You okay honey?" she had to ask, she hadn't seen Sam this upset in a long time.
It didn't happen often, but when the yelling was aimed at Sam, Sam usually called Dean a jerk, then stormed off in the opposite direction and then at some point in the day they'd patch things up and were back to acting like any normal two brothers. Obviously that hadn't happened this time.
Sam nodded, then breathed a sigh of relief when his mom put her cloth down, cupped his cheek with a smile then said she was going to go see if Dean was okay, because this was not normal behaviour for either of them.
She was not surprised but her heart still swelled when she heard her son's foot steps behind her, although her small smile dissipated when she got to Dean's bedroom door.
"Dean? Honey can I come in?" She almost forgot to knock at the door that used to be hers not so long ago.
When she heard nothing but silence her worry went up another level.
Dean heard the quiet tap and soft voice at the door and buried his head deeper into his pillow. He didn't want to see her, didn't want to hear her. Not today of all days. He couldn't bring himself to make a sound. He couldn't bring himself to even scream at her to 'go the fuck away,' like he had to Sam. He had never yelled or swore like that to a kind sweet woman before in his life and he just had too much respect for woman like Mary...woman like his mom.
"Dean if you don't answer me I'm coming in."
Again, nothing, so she turned the door handle and pushed just slowly, Dean didn't like to be surprised.
"Dean?" she asked carefully, peeking her head through the door. She half expected him to charge her, but what she saw was worse, much much worse. "Oh, sweetie what's wrong?" she asked rushing to the bed where Dean was curled up with her back towards her, trembling. Maybe he was sick?
When she felt his forehead, she found no fever, but Dean didn't look good, he was white as a sheet and his face was streaked with tears. It was a hot day outside and in and he was shivering even under the covers.
"Dean? Talk to me baby," but as soon as the word baby left her lips, he whimpered and cringed away from her. "Ssshh, it's alright, it's okay, just talk to me."
Dean didn't want to talk, he was too trapped in his own grief, always had been on this day. He wanted to run away from all this... wrong. Which made it all worse.The caring words, the kindness, he craved them, he needed them, but right now he couldn't accept them. He should be in some shit-hole or other waiting for his Uncle to give him one hell of a beating and it would be like every other year so far. But a part of him...a bigger part than he would like to admit, felt like he needed that physical pain today, it just made the emotional agony hurt just a little less, and he missed that.
"Dean? Come on you're scaring me," Mary pushed but didn't get anything but sobbing. She tried running her hand through his soft, spiky hair but reluctantly pulled her hand back when he flinched. She tried feeling for a fever again, putting a comforting hand on his arm, but everything just got rejected. From the little she'd managed to check, she'd came to the conclusion that he wasn't sick, he was just extremely upset. Maybe he was just having a really bad day... but then again Mary had seen him on bad days, and the way Dean was right now made those seemed average.
Being careful not to touch him she kneeled by his side. "Dean, honey. I know that things are bad for you right now and I want you to know that I'm here to help you – we all are. We care about you and if there's anything you want to talk about – anything at all – we're here for you, baby." She sighed when he impossibly curled even tighter and further away.
She was torn between giving him space, or staying by his side until he told her what was wrong...but she knew he would never do that, so she give him a gentle kiss on the forehead and left the room before noticing Dean had gone from hiccupping quietly to sobs uncontrollably.
Standing quietly at the door she smiled at a pale-faced Sam and went to shoo him back downstairs when she heard frantic movement in the room behind her. She ran back in not knowing what else to do and caught him clawing at the cheek she had just kissed like he wanted to peal his skin off.
"Dean, Dean stop it, honey stop it you're going to hurt yourself. Stop!" Grabbing his flailing hand she forced it down to the mattress. "Stop, just tell me what's wrong." She was getting seriously concerned that this may be more than she could handle and thought she may need to call John.
He twisted his hand free then turned onto his other side away from her, signalling he wanted to be left alone, he couldn't deal with anyone else today.
"Alright, we're all here for you, sweetheart," she said when she leaned over and noticed his eyes were still tearing, but they were closed now. Smoothing out his covers without touching him, she couldn't offer any other comfort before she left.
"Mom?" Sam looked hopefully up at his mother.
Mary smiled sadly at him, "Everything will be okay Sam. Dean just needs... he needs some time alone for a bit. We'll keep an eye on him and we'll be there when he needs us."
"Is it okay if I sit with him?"
"Well..." Mary was reluctant to put such a heavy weight on her son's young shoulders, but she obviously wasn't doing any good. Looking at his strained face and knowing the strong bond that the boys had already developed, maybe it would be for the best. "Okay, but don't bother him. Maybe bring a book to read or something and you call me right away if you need me alright?" Seeing Sam's enthusiastic nod she had to smile at the obvious devotion.
"D-Dean?" Sam asked as he peeked his head through the door way before coming in completely when he couldn't see him. Glancing uncertainly at the empty, rumpled bed, he breathed a sigh of relief when he caught the corner of Dean's blankets sticking out from underneath it.
"Dean I'm-" I'm here for you? Let me help you? Please tell me what's wrong, please for the love of god stop crying because it's killing me...what was he supposed to say? He wanted to say something smart, something that would help, but he knew in his gut that he, like Dean, needed something right now that he couldn't give. He didn't know what it was, it was just a feeling, a pathetic useless feeling.
Dean was still crying, though silently now, it still hurt to watch, he was so sad. It made Sam want to cry along with him, but he couldn't, he had to be the strong one. Pulling his own covers down to the floor, he settled down in the space between their beds and giving Dean a quick glance, reached over to place a hand on Dean's shoulder, before staring at the ceiling leaving the offer of comfort in place. He couldn't do anything else right now, but wait, wait until Dean was ready, until he came out from under his bed and was ready to be helped. So he waited.
His mom brought lunch, he still waited, his dad came home and asked if they needed anything, he said no, and waited some more. His mom left them fries and ketchup outside the door at dinner time, and Sam was still waiting, he hadn't eaten, because Dean hadn't, he hadn't moved, because Dean hadn't, he hadn't spoken, because Dean couldn't. He waited.
Dean knew Sam was there, he was grateful for it, even if he couldn't show it, he was glad for the warm hand on his shoulder, he felt like it was the only thing holding him to the world right now, if it wasn't there, if Sam wasn't there, he would slip away, and not care if he did so.
His cheeks were starting to sting. Hours of burning tears, pouring down them hurt after a while, he'd learned that seven years ago, to this very day he learned that too well. He thought by now, after all these hard years he would have gotten used to it, his skin would have some sort of tolerance or immunity from the stinging water, but no, even after this long, it still hurt.
He didn't want it to stop hurting though, pain was good, pain meant you were alive, pain meant the sadness hadn't killed you, yet. It also meant he was paying for his sins, even if it was just a tiny sting, it was pain and payback nonetheless.
He didn't care for his toes that were going numb, for the stitch in his side or ache in his chest, he didn't care because he couldn't feel anything past the blinding headache, past the misery causing it.
But Sam, he was glad for...if Sam was there, it meant maybe he wasn't such a bad person, if he got to have Sam around in his life for the time being then he had to have done something right for it...right?
As the sun started to set, Sam was about to give up, he had been waiting so long, he wasn't sure if he could call it waiting anymore, he had accepted by now that maybe this was something, one of those things that Dean would never share.
"S-Sam?" a scratchy voice called, Dean sounded in pain, sounded so close to total collapse in that one word, it petrified Sam.
"Yeah Dean?" Sam asked turning on his side to face his pained brother next to him.
"I..." there was such a long pause, Sam thought maybe Dean had thought about talking, then taken it back. "I want my mom and dad."
"I know," Sam didn't say sorry, because sorry wouldn't help right now, sorry was pointless at this moment in time.
"I need my mom and dad."
"Yeah, I know you do." Sam didn't make any empty promises of 'I wish they could be here for you, I would trade places with them just so you could have them for a day.' Because those promises, although true, meant nothing because they couldn't happen.
"Why did they leave me?" Dean asked, like Sam had the answer, like he was going to tell him an honest to God factual answer of why his parents weren't around anymore.
"I don't know, but...I think it's okay to be angry at them."
"Why couldn't they stay? Why did they let that jerk use me as a punching bag for seven years? How could they do that to their own kid?"
"Dean, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have left you if they had a choice."
"Why didn't they let me go with them?"
"'Cause...'cause if you did then you wouldn't be around to help me." Wow, selfish of me much?
"I don't wanna die."
"I know you don't Dean."
"But I want to be with them."
"I know." Sam had figured out by now, this was about Dean's parents. Dean wanted his mom and dad right now...no wonder why he felt like he couldn't help, he couldn't be a mom and dad, he couldn't be that for Dean, as much as he wanted to...he thought maybe it was time to get his mom.
Dean didn't say anything else, it looked like he had fallen asleep, totally worn out. Sam knew he had for sure when he heard a small whimper from Dean, and his head twitched.
"Dean, Dean, wake up," Sam shook him, hoping to end the nightmare before it got to the worst part, when Dean screamed he knew he was unsuccessful.
"DAD! MOM!" the scream was so full of fear and longing, it shocked Sam. Dean jumped up so fast he smacked his head hard on the underside of his bed.
"Dean!" Sam asked hoping he hadn't hurt himself, again, his hopes were crushed when he saw blood despite the darkness.
Dean was panting, from the nightmare rather than pain.
Sam tried to see, tried to pull Dean from under the bed, and somehow he wrapped Dean in a hug, pulling the older kid to rest his bleeding head on his shoulder and holding him tight. He didn't know if it would help, maybe Dean would push him off and call him gay, but doing nothing wasn't working anymore.
Holding his trembling brother, nearly squished by his larger frame, he tried to talk. Not with words, because they would have no meaning, but in his steady grip and beating heart.
After Dean had calmed down a bit, Sam shimmied out from beneath him all the while reassuring him that he would be right back - he needed to find something to stop the bleeding cut on Dean's forehead.
He grabbed a clean towel, one dry, then another and wet it a bit before coming back to their bedroom to find Dean leaning exhaustedly up against his bed on the floor with his head in his hands.
Sam just sat opposite him leaning up against his own bed, reaching across to make Dean lift his head so he could wipe away the blood dripping between Dean's eyes and down his right cheek. He mumbled an apology when he pressed the wet towel to the cut even though Dean didn't flinch, like he was completely unaware and had cried himself empty.
"I'm scared." Dean's deep voice drifted out from between almost unmoving lips.
"Why?" Sam asked, Dean had never said that in his life.
"I feel... I dunno... lost?...I want my mom and dad to tell me what to do...why I'm alive and they're not...I'm scared one day I'm not gonna care."
"Couldn't happen," Sam shrugged, he knew what Dean was trying to say, without saying it.
"I'm so freakin' tired, 'm sick of feeling like this on this day, every year...'m sick of it."
"What day?"
"Today...seven years ago...I-I watched my mom...my dad... die... 'm sick of seeing it on this day, 'm tired of caring about them when they left me, it's their fault, why should I feel guilty? They left me...but...I can't say that because...then I'd be..."
"You won't ever be like him Dean, you're scared about not being guilty anymore, about not caring, someone who doesn't care, doesn't feel scared about those things...he didn't."
"What if one day I am though...what if in a year's time, I don't care?"
"It won't ever happen Dean, it's just not in you not to care."
"It runs in the family."
"Dean, you don't honestly think your parents didn't care about you? That that's why they left you to him do you?"
"After this many years...it's hard not to."
"It's not true Dean, you know it's not true. They told you to run because they didn't want you to die, they didn't want their son to die, not because the wanted you to live and suffer."
"I just don't know how to keep doing this...I'm just so messed up and scared and angry all the time...I want them to tell me straight that they loved me."
"They did Dean. Hey, I got an idea." Sam handed the towel to Dean then stood to go searching through Dean's drawers until he found what he was looking for, "Put that on, I bet you'll feel better." Sam handed Dean the jewellery box carefully.
"I can't, it's not right," Dean set it down next to him along with the towel, who cares if he bled to death?
"Dean, your mom gave that to you, that was probably her way of telling you that she loves you, so put it on, you can always take it off if you don't like it."
Dean did as instructed, he couldn't feel any worse, so it was worth a try for Sam.
Taking out the silver amulet the diamonds winked at him in the reflected light. Carefully slipping the delicate chain over his head he tucked the amulet under his shirt and held it for a few seconds, hoping for but feeling no relief from his misery.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"It's too fucking girly... and It's not working."
"But you put it on, 'cause you care."
Dean frowned, not bothered when the expression pulled on his cut, letting more blood seep down until Sam stopped it with the towel again.
"You put it on 'cause you care, you cared to try it, for your mom and dad, so there, you do care to care."
Dean nodded, he might have called Sam a smartass for things like this on usual days, but he couldn't bring himself to joke today, to let himself feel better.
"I'm gonna get a band aid."
As he watched Sam leave again, he thought maybe he would feel truly alone in the world like he did when Sam left a few minutes ago...but he didn't, he didn't feel so alone, so desperate.
Sam was about ten minutes, but Dean didn't ask what took him so long, he just sat patiently as the kid stuck the band aid to his head and said thank you before sinking his head again, he couldn't wait for this day to be over. If there was a hell...he was in it right now.
As he started sniffling again, his eyes started burning and his cheeks grew wet, Sam sat carefully beside him, offering his presence and a comforting hand whenever he could.
When the sky darkened and Dean realized Sam hadn't eaten, just like him, he ordered the boy to go get something, he didn't plan on eating but he wasn't making Sam suffer too, this was his punishment, not Sam's. But when the little kid protested, it seemed he didn't think so, whatever Dean was going through, he wanted to match it best he could, sure he couldn't do the mourning part, hoped he never would, but he could try everything else.
SPN
"Dean, sweetie we've got something for you outside," Mary whispered into the bedroom, when Sam had told her what day it was, why Dean was so upset, she knew what Dean needed, he needed closure, something he was never allowed in the horrid past years of his life.
Dean didn't want to move, but Sam pulled him up and led him down the stairs and outside to their back garden, all the while he clutched the pendant in his hand.
John was already outside when they got there, looking at something at the bottom of the garden.
"We thought you might want to say a few words," Mary explained when they reached seven lit candles all in a line at the bottom of the grass, perfectly fitting the glass jars they were in. After staring at the tiny flames for a few minutes with more tears down his face, Dean almost collapsed and would have if John hadn't caught him; nose diving into candles wasn't the best idea.
"It's alright kiddo, just say your piece, or you don't have to say anything at all. They'll hear you."
"I'm...I'm sorry." Not the blessing they wanted to hear, but it was one they expected.
"Dean you can tell them you're angry if you want," Sam offered, hoping it would make Dean feel better.
John helped Dean to sit on the grass, then they all backed up a little leaving Dean to talk to his parents, not too far away he felt alone, but far enough so he could say goodbye in peace.
But Dean just sat there, his legs crossed, staring at the row of candles, not knowing what he was meant to say.
"M-mom, dad...I'm pissed at you for leaving, leaving me in this crap whole of a world alone, I don't know if I can forgive you for that some days, but... I do ...please can you just help me? I don't know if I'm doing things right, I don't know what I'm supposed to do...just tell me what to do...please...?"
John swallowed hard, Sam did the same, and Mary just let her tears roll down her cheeks.
"Mom? Dad?... Please?" Dean asked one last time, and Mary took that as her cue. She walked up behind Dean and sat down.
He didn't know what he was doing but not long after he felt her next to him, he practically fell sideways and his head was buried in her neck, his tears soaking into her dress. She held him with both arms wrapped tightly around him and rocked him lightly.
"Shhh, it's okay baby, it's okay, I'll keep you safe, shhhh it's okay, everything's gonna be okay, I'll never leave you, we'll never leave you." She whispered so softly Sam and John barely heard it.
As tears still glided down his face he turned his ear towards her chest, listening to the steady beat, it wasn't going anywhere, the steady beat was still close and it wasn't going to give out on him anytime soon, she said so herself.
Sam turned his own head towards his fathers, the only thing John could do for his youngest was drape an arm over his shoulders and let out a shaky breath as Sam started to tear up too.
"We'll never leave you Dean, we'll always keep you safe, I promise you," Mary cooed holding Dean just a little tighter.
Dean nodded into her chest, not only agreeing, but believing too. They wouldn't leave him, they couldn't, he couldn't survive without her, or Sam, or John.
He slowed down his hiccups and eventually sat up to face the candles again.
Sam then pulled his father towards the two in front and sat down next to Dean, John then sat down next to his wife. Mary and Dean sat silent inbetween, their hands gripped together.
Dean knew this was the first time since his parent's deaths he was allowed to grieve the right way, surrounded by people that would keep him strong, surrounded by people that wouldn't judge, wouldn't hurt and wouldn't break him, surrounded by the first people in seven years that he had learned to trust and learned to love.
When he was younger, when he didn't know much, when he was stupid and naive, he used to think of what he would say to them if they could hear him. So if they could hear...what would he say?
"God I miss you...I love you, and I can't wait to see you again..."
That's what he always used to say to them, or what he planned he would say to them if they could hear...never would he have thought a year ago he would be saying what he did next...
"But I think for now, I'm happy here, and I know you're happy I'm here."
Dean stared at the candles until the cool night breeze blew every last one of them out, when the last one went dim, he closed his eyes and fell asleep with his head in Mary's lap.
She wasn't leaving...none of them were.
The End.
Sleeping with ghosts is my song, its THE song! It just reminds me of SPN so much! Not in a Wincest way just... soulmates never die, I believe the brothers are soulmates, they always find their way back to each other no matter what, and come on, they never die! Well, not for long anyway.
I've waited for years to write a fic dedicated to this song and now I finally have, thanks to you guys! Mwah! I love you more than I love Placebo... and believe me, that is a LOT!