Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural
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Two days later, it was time for Dean's first weigh-in since leaving the hospital. It wasn't a big production-just him, his father, and Andy. He, personally, was nervous-he still wasn't comfortable with the idea of gaining weight, even if he knew it was the best thing for him.
The scale was on the hardwood floor in the dining room, next to the table. Caleb, Jim, and Sam had gone out to see a movie and get something to eat, and Bobby was in the living room translating some exorcism. He was glad that no one else would be there to see him fail.
"Okay, Dean," Andy said. "Whenver you're ready."
Dean took a hesitant step towards the scale, and then stopped in his tracks. What if I hit a hundred? To be honest, nothing scared him more-he'd take death over getting fat.
"It's going to be okay, Dean," John comforted his son. "Just a few more steps."
Dean took a deep breath and walked towards the scale slowly. He stepped on and stared down at the flashing numbers. 98, 102, 81...and then it settled.
He weighed 94 pounds. Ninty-four freaking pounds. Not only was he furious at himself, he was pissed at every one for getting on his case about his weight. Who cared if he dipped below ninety? Why should anyone give a damn, when they never cared about anything else he did?
"Dean? What are you thinking?" Andy asked, studying the look on the boy's face. Disappointment, shock, sadness-it was like reading a book.
"Nothing," Dean lied, his face going blank. "Does this mean the feeding tube can come out?"
"Not yet. You still haven't been able to keep much down," Andy said, apologetic. "Maybe next week, okay?"
"Fine," Dean snapped.
"Dean, why are you being so rude?" John insisted. "What's your problem?"
"Nothing," Dean lied. He shouldn't take his anger at himself out on other people. "Sorry, Andy."
"It's fne, Dean," Andy smiled at the boy. "You've done a great job."
Really? Getting fat is "great?" Dean thought, stepping off of the scale. On the bright side, in the past week he had been able to walk more and more-he hardly needed any help anymore, except when he attempted to go down the steps.
"I'm tired," Dean lied; those were the two magical words. Whenever he said that he was tired nowadays, they left him alone. They no longer hovered over him, like he was a clumsy three year old, which left him with a lot more time to think. And the ability to purge.
He hadn't taken advantage of it yet-he had been getting a feel for when people came in to check up on him. But today, that would all change.
"Alright," John said, as Dean walked up the stairs. He paused halfway up, to catch his breath, which caused him to hear things he was never supposed to hear.
"So what the hell's going to happen now, Doc?" John asked, reaching into the fridge.
"Our next goal is 98. We've got to do this slowly," Andy answered, putting the scale into the closet.
"This is so embarrassing," John sighed, sipping on his beer. "I can't believe he did this to himself."
When Dean heard that, tears welled in his eyes and he blocked his ears. He was an embarrassment to his father. He only weighed them down.
He rushed up the stairs and into his room, stumbling over his own feet. His father's words echoed in his head. "This is so embarrassing."
He closed the door behind him and locked it. He pulled the tube out of his nose, gasping as the last bit came out. Fuck gaining weight. Fuck eating. Fuck trying to make everybody proud of him. He was through.
He bent over the toilet, threw up, and wiped his mouth. He was feeling shaky-he splashed water on his face and looked in the mirror. He knew that as soon as he walked out without that goddamn feeding tube stuck up his nose, his father would freak out and Andy would just shove another one in. So he decided that he wouldn't go downstairs. He wouldn't stay in the house longer than he had to.
He walked out of the bathroom, grabbed his backpack, and filled it with clothes and the twenty dollars he had saved up. He felt terrible for ditching them like this, but he honestly thought that they would be better off without them. He wrote a short note for Sammy, left it on the bed, and walked back to the bathroom. The window was sticky-it took a bit of manuvering, but he managed to get it far enough open to slide through.
He tossed his backpack through, followed it, and landed quietly on the porch. It was freezing-even through his sweatshirt, he was shivering. Of course he'd make his jailbreak on a day there was a freaking blizzard. But he couldn't go back. They'd force-feed him.
So he ran into the woods and didn't look back.
ABCDEFG
An hour later, John Winchester decided to go check in on Dean. His son had been acting strangely earlier, and John needed to know what was going through the kid's head.
He knocked on the door gently. "Dean?"
When there was no answer, he walked in.
He immeadiatly knew that something was wrong; Dean's IV stand stood in front of the bathroom door, leaking fluid on to the floor, and the room was freezing. He rushed over to the bathroom, shoved the door open. The window was open, and the snow was blowing into the room. Shit.
Dean had left.
John walked back out into the bedroom and noticed a piece of paper on Sam's bed, with what looked to be Dean's messy scrawl scribbled upon it. John snatched it up and began to read.
Hey Sammy,
So by the time you get back here, I'll be long gone. I'm sick of being an embarrassment to everybody, and I'm sick of screwing things up for you guys. I just wanted you to know that you've made everything awesome for me. You're the best kid brother a guy could ask for.
Dean
John's hands were trembling as he finished reading the letter; he was furious. No, beyond furious. How the fuck could this kid think that he was an embarrassment to the family? How could Dean even contemplate the idea of running away, when he was half of what kept John from going insane?
John dashed downstairs and into the kitchen.
"Dean's gone," he shouted, reaching for his keys. "We've gotta find him. Come on."
"He's gone?" Bobby and Andy asked simaltainiously.
"No, I'm lying," John snapped. "Yes, the kid ripped out his feeding tube and ran away. Hurry up, it's snowing like a bitch. He's gonna end up giving himself pneumonia."
"I'll drive," Bobby snatched the keys from John and rushed to the driver's side. "If he's okay, I'm going to kick this kid's ass from here to South Dakota when we find him."
Sorry for the long wait! There's been some drama in my life over the past week that I had to handle, but it's all good now! I'll update again tomorrow!