Probably one of the worst things that could possibly happen to a human being is the loss of one's mind. Even when the whole world is changing at an unattainable rate, the human mind is the one constant that one can always rely on, without fail. And when that is gone, being unable to have anything left that one can trust, to be in a permanent state of wondering what is real and what is merely a cruel illusion, must be the most terrifying thing in the entirety of that human's existence; of any human's existence, for that matter.
So when Dean Winchester discovered that he was losing his mind, unwillingly set on a long and agonisingly dangerous (and certainly exhausting) path of imminent insanity, it completely broke him. The young and still fairly innocent hunter remained curled up into a tight ball on the floor of the spare room in the house of his adoptive father – ironically the safest place he could be. His madness had reduced him to a scared little boy, recoiling from his hallucinations, and eventually, what was actually real, as he could not tell the difference. All night he had been that way, barely coping with his visions of John as it constantly spoke to and irritated him. Every time Dean had tried to sleep, or just fallen asleep because he was so tired he could no longer keep his drooping eyelids open, he was plagued by nightmares in which his father always had a role. Each restless toss and turn of his head seemed to amplify 'John's' giggles all the more, causing his already obscene level discomfort to rise ever further.
When morning dawned (not that the young Winchester noticed – he was far too wrapped up in his own insanity to care for the time of day), Dean could be found with his arms wrapped around his knees sat on the floor, rocking himself back and forth as a display of sheer instability. It was 5am, around the time that Bobby and most hunters began their day. That was, of course, if they had slept at all, which the old hunter and Sam had, for once, thinking that his older brother was resting too. It was fairly obvious that was not the case when the younger Winchester brother knocked at the door, and when Dean didn't answer – he assumed it was yet another trick of his mind – Sam barged right in. On seeing the state of his big brother, the hunter practically stumbled over his own feet in order to get to him as soon as possible.
"Dean? DEAN!" He exclaimed fearfully, standing tall above his brother's hunched figure and placing his hands on Dean's shoulders in a pretty pathetic attempt at comfort. "Dean, what's wrong? Why are you on the floor? Here, let me-" Sam fussed over his brother, as per usual, as he helped lift him onto the bed, where he sat, shivering. It wasn't so much to do with the cold (it was now the end of April, after all); it was more a nervous aftermath of his ordeal. 'John' wasn't actually in the room currently – he had left for the time being, soon to return, no doubt, with yet more torture in store. But for the moment, Dean savoured his time alone with Sammy, without interruptions from his crazy brain.
"Sammy… I'm so glad you're-" Dean quickly cut himself off, reluctant to get sentimental. Although his mind may have neglected him, his obstinateness remained ever strong. "It's Dad, Sam. I'm seeing him all the time. He won't go away and I think I'm going crazy and I don't know what to do, Sammy. Please, just…" Trailing off, the older Winchester had to take a breath to keep his tears back before he could continue. "I need help. Please, Sam. I don't know what's happening to me." His pleading sounded exactly like that of a child when asking for help with their homework when they don't understand the work at all and wish to get good grades. Sam pulled a sympathetic expression and persisted in reassuring his brother.
"It's okay, Dean. We'll work it out and get you sorted. Thing is, you'll probably die anyway. From lack of sleep, or a heart attack, or maybe even a demon, since you're so pitifully vulnerable." Dean turned to face his brother with a completely shocked expression, unable to comprehend how he could say such cruel things. However, when Sam turned to face him back, a grin plastered across his smug face, his entire form rippled and melted away to reveal his father once again with the same purely evil smile. Leaping off the bed, Dean gasped and shrunk against the wall while a feeling of utter hopelessness and depression sank and anchored itself into his stomach. He was never going to escape this. His hallucinations, his insanity… It was all a bottomless pit into which he had helplessly fallen and now there was no way out. The only thing the young hunter could think of right now was to head downstairs and try to find Bobby and Sam; the real ones, if he could. He needed to tell them both what he had confessed to his hallucination of Sam, and maybe they could help. It was a long shot, but one he was willing to take.
Hesitantly creeping out of the corridor, ignoring 'John's' persistent taunting ("Aww, that little sharing and caring session there was truly adorable…" was what he was saying at the moment), Dean glanced down the stairs, keeping his ears and eyes open to any action. He spotted none so far, however he did hear the sound of someone shuffling about coming from the general direction of the kitchen. He figured it was Bobby preparing a measly breakfast, as he was always the one to look after the boys, in hunting and the domestic side of life. A second later, Dean heard the gruff and surly voice of his adoptive father.
"Sam. Grab the phone, would ya? I should probably check up on Rufus. That is, if the idjit hasn't got himself killed already." Shortly after, Sam's voice piped up in reply, and Dean observed from out of sight at the top of the stairs as his little brother strolled out of one room to grab a gun he had left around before heading back into the kitchen after Bobby.
"Sure. Uh, what about Dean? Are we just gonna leave him in bed?" The youngest hunter of the house questioned, as inquisitive as always.
"No, we're gonna wake him up from his beauty sleep that he hasn't had in goodness' knows how long for no reason, since we have no leads whatsoever. Of course we're gonna leave him!" Bobby replied in his usual sarcastic tone. Dean could almost hear his brother's irritated expression in response.
Realising that now was likely the best time to make an appearance, the hunter began a slow and steady trek downstairs as the ignored hallucination followed him, still making ridiculous and mocking comments. As soon as Dean began to approach the kitchen door, he quickened his pace and attempted to put a false spring in his step in order to reassure his family and deceive them into thinking he wasn't quite as depressed about the whole situation as he actually was when he finally told them.
"Morning, sleeping beauty. I would offer you some eggs, but we haven't got any, so it'll have to be porridge or nothing." Bobby greeted on seeing his arrival. Dean kept silent, which told everyone in the room that something was wrong; he always had a smart comment to make, more so than Bobby, most of the time.
"Dean? Are you okay?" Sam asked rhetorically, not really expecting an answer, therefore being rather surprised when Dean sighed and gestured for them to sit down. He knew it would be an awkward conversation, and would feel stupid for having to initiate it, but he was in desperate need of help now, and this was the only option of getting out.