-DEAN'S POV-
I need to make up my mind.
All these problems I'm facing seem to be about different things. They all seem to have different solutions.
But when it all comes down to it, it's all about me one thing.
Me making up my mind.
Should I help my brother fix himself or break him more? Should I listen to him or turn away? Should I take my dad's advice or should I not?
Should I wake up right now or stay asleep?
Everything is always so clear in dreams. Everything always seems to make perfect sense, but once you wake up it all goes to crap. All your clarity is automatically gone.
Any and all of my sense vanishes with what, one simple action? Opening my eyes?
There's a loud noise in my dream in the form of a 'car crashing' or an 'explosion'. I know that, that wasn't what it really was. I know something is going on outside of dreamland.
I know something is going on with my brother.
I open my eyes and you know what? I'm expecting something like he fell out of bed or he tried to stand and lost his balance. Hell, I'm expecting a goddamn fire alarm. Something unintentional.
Something accidental.
Yeah well, last time I checked suicide attempts weren't generally accidental.
And what was I thinking about before?
Gimme one sec. I just need to figure out what the fuck my brother's thought process is or was.
And I'll admit it. I may have been too rough.
I may have been too harsh.
I may have jumped the gun.
But I don't even have to check to know there's no page in dad's journal that can tell me what to do when your brother tries to commit suicide.
And since the only thing I can really rely on, other than Sam, is that goddamn pile of paper, I have no idea what to do.
I have no idea how I could have let it get to this point.
I know that pulling my brother from his bed will make him dizzy. I know yelling at him will only break whatever hope he has left. I know shoving him to the bathroom will make his damaged body ache. I know pushing him to his knees and forcing him to throw up will make him feel worse.
I knew my not listening would come back and bite me in the ass.
My brother is practically begging me not to make him throw it up. Not to make him feel worse.
I'm sick.
No, not that kind of sick. Mentally sick.
I start pressing on his stomach and throat just to make him listen. I can't even believe myself right now. I can't even believe how horrible I'm being.
And what am I thinking again?
He's been throwing up for close to three minutes now and I can't stomach this. Thinking about myself gives me nausea.
Gives me agita.
I'm looking at my brother in disbelief. He just tried to kill himself. And even though it might have been one of the lamest attempts at doing so, the idea behind it was more real than anything I have ever seen.
My brother just tried to kill himself, and I don't even know why.
Well, I obviously can't just stare at my brother and make him better. I need to open my mouth. These vocal chords have to quit being so lazy and actually work. Actually get going.
And once my mouth is opened and the words start to over flow; they're unstoppable. How horribly convenient.
What a tragic coincidence
My 'mistake'. Excuse me while I call a do-over.
Oops, too late. I already started.
And why did I want to open my mouth again? Make my vocal chords work?
I'm saying things I don't mean. I'm asking for the extra emotional baggage I know I don't really want. I know I don't need. Can't handle. I'm making promises I'm sure I can't keep. I'm setting my brother up for a let down. I'm setting him up for a disappointment.
Me.
When I'm done talking- or rambling- I look at my brother. And he doesn't say anything. Not at first.
He stares down like he's afraid to open his mouth. Who knows what Dean might do if he says the wrong thing. Who knows what I might do to my doomed brother.
He looks to the left. Then the right. Then straight down. At my knee- or my lap. He tries talking but just whispers, "So sorry… So selfish…"
Something like that. Something that subconsciously, on some level of his complicated self is begging for sympathy, for a lifting of this burden he's carrying. I grasp his shoulders for both our lives and make him look me in the eye.
I say, "Don't be sorry. You're not selfish. You made a mistake." His eyes pull away from mine and I search them out. Once his attention is back on me, I continue with my 'speech', "Just don't do it again, ok?"
He nods quickly.
And what did I just say again?
I swallow and shake my head slightly. I help him up and get him to his bed. He sits down on the edge and I sit across from him. We both are exhausted from the ordeal. From the physical and emotional pain we just went through.
But I can't let this moment slip away. This may be the last time I'm able to get myself to seek it out.
"Tell me everything."
That's all I have to say for my brother to get going. He just talks.
He tells me about what really happened with the witch. He tells me about how she read his mind. This for some reason is like a huge piece of the puzzle.
Hey Sam! Remember the shape shifter?
Yeah, maybe it's not the time to poke fun at my brother who's currently falling apart.
So he goes on about this curse. This mumbo jumbo curse thingy ma bobber. Sam's biggest fear: hurting someone. Now I realize why he's been killing himself over this.
Literally.
And why am I making jokes again?
He tells me he's pretty sure this witch was serious. He says he needs to find a way out of this. He says all of these things that I'm trying so hard to not filter out. I need to hear everything if I'm going to help my brother.
He can't be doomed.
This can't really be happening.
I tell him, "Don't worry, Sammy, we're going to find a way out of this ok? No witch is gonna mess with us."
It's probably not the response he wanted, but hey- it's something
Sam hasn't looked at me once throughout the entire explanation. Like he's not telling me the whole truth. Like he can't really look me in the eye. As if the information coming out of his mouth doesn't make me uneasy enough, think how I must feel wondering if my brother is telling me the entire truth.
Think how he must feel wondering if I'm even listening.
Ok, Sam's told me a lot. He's probably been talking for twenty minutes straight, but there's still one this he hasn't told me. There's still one important piece of information I need to know in order to do my job.
Save Sammy. Save Sammy.
"When did the witch say this was all going to happen?"
Save Sammy. Save Sammy. Save Sa-
"She didn't say…"
Save Sammy. Save Sammy. Save Sammy. Save Sammy. Save-
"You sure about that?"
Save Sa-
"Yes!" he says this quickly. He says this looking in my eyes for the first time.
Save Sammy. Save Sammy. Save my brother. Save my father's son. Save my mother's son. Save my best friend. Save Jess's boyfriend. Save the person who saved all those people. Save the chosen one. Save the doomed one.
Save the only one that fucking matters.
Save Sammy.
"Ok."
I was such an idiot. Me so consumed in my job. Me so wound up in my duty.
I was such a moron.
I believed him.
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A/N: Come on leave the poor girl a review : ) !!