Chapter 9: John's Surprise
Dean sat in the bathroom, holding his father's razor for at least ten minutes before he finally made up his mind. He clenched his fist tightly and slowly drew a thin line with the sharp edge. He felt the sharp pain oddly satisfying and drew another just over the first. He got to four when he heard the door open.
"Dean?!" John called, seeing the mess in the floors, "Dean, are you okay? Are you in here?"
"I'm in the bathroom, Dad! Just give me a minute and I'll clean that up!"
"Are you okay? What are you doing?"
"Dad, I'm fine. What do people normally do in the bathroom? Besides shower, which still hurts like hell!"
"Okay. You're right. Sammy and Trista are at the park. I brought you a soda. Thought you might like it."
"Thanks, I'll be right out."
Dean looked around the bathroom for some kind of bandage. Finding a gauze pad, he threw the razor away, wrapped his wrist, pulled his sleeve down, and started to stand up. His jeans rubbed on his swollen back and he collapsed, his head just barely missing the corner of the sink. He groaned at the impact the fall caused on his wrist and debated calling for help. Luckily, John heard him fall and rushed in.
"Dean," John said, helping his son up, "You okay?"
"I'm fine. Just a little pissed, okay?"
"I understand."
John helped Dean sit on the bed and Dean's sleeve pulled up a little.
"Dean, what happened to your wrist?"
He pulled his sleeve down again, "I, uh, scraped it on some broken glass."
John looked around. No glass had been broken. He lifted his son's arm up and unwrapped it.
"Dean, what the Hell is this?" he asked, staring at the thin marks, "What were you doing?"
Dean shrugged out of his father's grasp, "Dad, it's nothing. I just scraped it."
John walked to the bathroom and looked around. A few moments later, he came back out, holding the bloody razor.
"Dean, why would you do this? Are you that upset that you couldn't talk to me? Dean, what were you thinking?"
"I wasn't going to do it, but losing Michelle, it's... and then I did the first line and the pain felt good. Weirdly good, and I just couldn't stop."
"Do you even bother to think things through? I know it's hard, Dean, but suicide is not the way to handle it."
"I barely bled, Dad. I wasn't going to die."
"You cut right over your vein!"
"Only a little."
"A little?! Dean, a little can lead to a lot! Think of Sammy. What would he have done if he came home and found you doing this? What if you try it again and go to more extreme measures? What if next time it's a gun?"
"You don't know what I'm going through, here, Dad!" Dean yelled, "It hurts to think about her now! It hurts to even try to breathe when someone mentions her name! If I died I probably wouldn't care! And I know it'd hurt Sam, but I wouldn't have to deal with it anymore!"
Dean turned the dragon ring around his finger and cried, "I don't want to do this, Dad. I don't want to try to be without her. I need her."
John tossed the razor in the wastebasket and hugged his son, "I know, Dean. But you can't just try to kill yourself. Michelle wouldn't want it, and neither would her family. What about Joey and Christian? You're their best friend."
"I know. But it's just too hard."
"Dean, I'm getting you some help."
"No. No, I don't need help, Dad."
"Yes, you do."
John picked up his cell phone and called Bobby.
"Hello?"
"Bobby, I need your help. Is Jo at home?"
"Yeah, why?"
A/N Okay, I know, Dean didn't meet Jo this young or he would have recognized her. I mean, the girl's hot. But please ignore that little fact just for a little while.
"I just need her help. Or Ellen's. Better yet, both."
"Is that why you called me?"
"Yeah, I need her number."
Bobby told John Ellen's phone number and John dialed the number carefully.
"Hello?"
"Jo, are you and your mother busy right now?"
"Not right now. Mr. Winchester, is everything okay?"
"No, it's Dean. How fast can you get here?"
"Pretty quick. You want us to come over?"
"Please. Can you put Ellen on?"
"Sure, hang on."
John looked to make sure Dean was still there. Dean's head was down and it looked like he was rubbing the bloody lines on his wrist.
"John, what's wrong with Dean?"
"We've got a problem, and I don't know what to do about it."
"John, what's the problem?"
"He... oh, God, Ellen, he tried to kill himself."
"He WHAT?!"
"Yeah. I know. Just please tell me you can get here soon?"
"Yeah, I'll speed if I have to. Make sure you keep an eye on him till we get there."
"I will. Thanks, Ellen."
"No problem sweetheart."
John flipped the phone shut and sat on the bed opposite Dean's to wait for Jo and Ellen.
A/N Oooh, Dean's in trouble! Please please review.
