CHAPTER 25

Dean had taken his first step outside. He was nervous. Something didn't feel right. But, he needed to take care of his brother. Dad didn't leave near enough food for the both of them, and there wasn't any money. He didn't know what else to do. He had seen it on tv.

There were several shows, some they had gotten arrested, others were on crime shows where they were being asked if they had witnessed anything. They all said it paid good money. Dean had paid close attention to the things they talked about. The things they did.

He hated leaving Sam, but he figured he would only be gone for a little while. It couldn't take too long to make enough money to buy some food. Sam was five, by the time Dean was five he was staying alone and responsible for Sammy. Sammy was already in bed, asleep, so he wouldn't even know he was gone.

After he made his way to the nearby truck stop, and found the first trucker who would pay, he had to figure out what he was supposed to do. It wasn't as easy as he thought it would be, but by the time he was finished he had it under control. The next paying customer was easier. By the third customer, he could drop to his knees and open his mouth like a pro.

He was gone a total of three hours. It was a little longer than he had planned, but Sammy was still asleep when he made his way back to the motel room. He showered then laid down himself. He was starving, he hadn't eaten in 3 days, but he felt exhausted from the long night, so he figured him and Sammy could go get some food in the morning.

Sure, it was exhausting for someone his age, but it did pay well enough to be able to feed them both, and still have money put back for the next time. Dean made his way out every night they were there. It was four days before John returned and uprooted the boys again.

Dean was both thankful and sad that they were leaving. He enjoyed the money his new job brought in, but something about it just felt wrong, he didn't feel safe, and he hated leaving Sam alone, so he didn't complain when his dad announced they would be heading to another town, again.

Somehow, somewhere, his mind shifted. He was standing in the middle of an empty parking lot, alone, his clothes were gone. He had dropped to his knees, scared to be alone. He couldn't see anyone, wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but he could feel them, feel them inside his mouth and gagging his throat. He could taste the filth of the men. He wanted to vomit, wanted to run a scream, but something had a hold on him.

He couldn't move, couldn't get away. He wasn't a kid anymore, somewhere along the way he had grown into the man he was, now. But the parking lot stunk of old diesel fuel and cigarettes. He started to fight, only to find himself being forced down, forced to take whatever they wanted to give. But, who was 'they'? He couldn't see anyone, couldn't hear anyone.

Dean startled awake from his nightmare, with labored breathing and a scream of fear. His eyes were wide and wild looking. John had drifted to sleep and jumped awake as Dean gasped and screamed. Dean's eyes scanned the room for the hidden dangers of his dreams, landing on the sight of his dad.

"Dean, son, it's okay." John tried to reassure him.

Dean was shaking and started dry heaving from the memory of the taste. John quickly grabbed a trash can for him to vomit in.

"It's okay, Dean, just let it out." John soothed as he rubbed circles on his son's back as he hung over the trash can. He hadn't eaten in several days so there wasn't much to vomit, mostly stomach acid and dry heaving, which made him feel worse than if he were to actually vomit.

"You good now?" John asked as he helped Dean lay back against the bed. Dean nodded his head, taking in slow, steady breaths.

"I'm sorry." Dean said in a barely audible voice.

"For what?" John questioned.

"Not being who you thought I was. Not being strong enough to be the son you wanted."

"Dean? Are you kidding me? Look, son, no one is perfect, not even you, but, you're the strongest person I know. You're stronger than I could ever be, and you have been exactly the son I wanted. You are who you are, and that's okay. I love you no matter what."

Dean sat quiet for a minute. "When can we get the hell out of this place?"

John had to chuckle at his son, that sounded just like Dean. He was always ready to get out of the hospital, he always said he can heal on his own, he doesn't need a hospital bed to help him heal.

"Let's wait for the doctor to make his rounds. He did some blood work and tests on you, so I wanna see how you're doing and what the results are before we spring you."

Dean nodded his head, laying it against the pillows and closing his eyes.

"I still don't remember." Dean whispered.

"And, that's okay." John replied.

Both men had dozed back off, it had been a long couple of days, it had been a long month for all of them. When the doctor arrived in his room he had woken them. Giving his news that it appeared the drugs were out of Dean's system, now they just had to handle the withdrawals and cravings. Dean insisted he wouldn't be craving anything, but the doctor explained to him, rather he wanted them or not, his body had gotten used to them, and his body would be craving the effects they had on him.

Of course, Dean had a hard time agreeing with that since he couldn't even remember the effects they had on him. His memory had improved, that he was thankful for. He could remember everything up to the day he walked out of Bobby's. He had memories that his dad was going to leave them, again, but the details were fuzzy, however, he figures his mind was clouded with emotions because he couldn't remember leaving or much of anything from that day or after it.

His pain level was still pretty high, and with the positive results from the blood draw the doctor said they could start him on medication that would help with the pain better. But, Dean told him he didn't want anything to make his head fuzzy again, in fact the only thing he wanted was to leave.

With a lot of convincing and threatening to sign out AMA, the doctor agreed he was well enough he could leave, providing he took it easy and went to counselling and follow up appointments. Dean agreed, even though he knew he never would. The doctor said he'd prefer him to leave the hospital with the medications he needs then to walk away with nothing.

Prescriptions were written for pain medications, two types, stronger ones in case the pain got overwhelming, and weaker ones that would help ease it but not mess with his head. He also wrote a prescription for the medication that was being administered to help with the withdrawals. And, kept him on the previous medication John had informed him about once he first spoke to the doctor. He was back on the antidepressants and anxiety meds, along with stool softeners and medication for PTSD.

Dean was still weak and not completely back to himself, but that was to be expected with the injuries and abuse his body had endured. He had gone through so much in such a short time, John as surprised he was still willing to fight and survive.

Not much was said as they left the hospital. John insisted that they stopped and filled his medication before making their way to the motel. It was late in the afternoon, near dinner time, John figured they would stay at the motel overnight then head back to Bobby's in the morning. The thing was, he hadn't been able to inform Bobby and Sam of his plan, and the way Sam was acting, he wasn't sure how he would handle it.

Dean waited in the parking lot, surrounding himself with the comfort of his baby, while John got the medications filled. John took the opportunity to call Bobby and give him a heads up on what was going on.

"Sam, have a seat." Bobby suggested. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, waiting to see what Bobby would have to say. "Your dad called me."

"Okay."

"Dean's been released from the hospital."

"Released or left on his own?"

"A little of both from what I gathered. Dean was wanting to leave and the doctor agreed after being convinced."

Sam nodded. "So, in other words, he wasn't really ready to be released?"

"Doesn't matter, thing is, they are on their way here shortly. Your dad figures we stay here for the night then head back to my place in the morning."

"And, if I don't want to go?"

"Look boy, no one is forcing you to do nothin' you don't want to."

Sam huffed and leaned back on the bed, against the headboard. His arms folded across his chest. He had ended the conversation. That was exactly the way he was sitting when John and Dean entered the room.

Dean was nervous. He didn't remember anything that had happened but knew the other 3 had been told about it as well as he had been. He hadn't seen his brother the entire time since he woke up, his dad wouldn't give him a reason for the absence of Sam when he asked. One look at his little brother and he could tell it was going to be a long night.

Dean half stumbled to the bed furthest from the door, where his brother sat pouting. Dean's body was protesting against so much movement, and he kept his arm across his broken ribs for support. He sat on the edge of the bed beside Sam.

"What's eating at you?" Dean questioned, honest concern for his brother's wellbeing.

Sam just huffed and turned away from Dean.

Dean reached out and touched Sam's shoulder, he was going to try to talk to him, but instead Sam acted out and grabbed a tight hold onto Dean's wounded wrist and gave it a twist as he pulled it off his shoulder.

Dean grimaced in pain, he knew Sam's act was deliberate. He knew his brother meant to cause him pain, but, he couldn't figure out why. He didn't know what he had done to make Sam so upset.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned.

"It's Sam!"

"Okay, Sam, I don't know what I did to make you so upset at me, but whatever it was, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? You're sorry! You told me to leave! Then, you walked out on all of us, and for what? To get drunk? To get high? To go fuck some other dudes for a couple bucks?"

Dean sat silent for a moment. He wasn't sure how to reply to that. He didn't remember any of it, and now his brother was telling him he did it on purpose. Was there truth to that? Had he left for those reasons? Sam knew him better than anyone, so he must be right.

"Sam… I…"

"Don't remember, yeah, so I've been told!"

"What do you want from me? I said I'm sorry, I honestly don't remember any of it, you might be right, I don't know! But, I don't know what to do, where to go from here."

"Just leave! That's what the hell you wanted anyhow! Just go find you some guy to fuck you till you break and keep you drugged up so you don't remember. That's what you've always wanted, isn't it? To be numb? To forget the world."

"I'm pretty sure I've never said that! NO, that's not what I've wanted. That's not what I want now! I want to go on with life, with our life, the way it used to be, the way it's meant to be."

Sam stood from the bed, he was too angry to sit still any longer. "Well, you don't have to worry about it anymore. You don't have to worry about me. I'll go back to college, like you told me to, but don't you dare come looking for me when something else happens to you or Dad."

"Sam… I…" Dean followed Sam's actions, standing in front of him. "So, that's it? Huh? I'm expandable? I'm replaceable? Don't matter to you anymore? You're just going to replace your brother, your family, with the new family you have at school? You think that's possible do you? Sure, you may be right. It's not like you've actually given a shit about anything but yourself anyhow!"

Dean was pretty sure his heart had shattered on the floor. He didn't have the fight left in him. Right now, he longed for his brother, he needed his brother, he wanted his brother. But, he didn't want anything to do with him. He was ready to walk away from Dean and the family. He had done it before, but not when Dean was so broken.

Dean dropped his head, tears filled his eyes but went unshed.

"Fine."

He made his way to his bag, without another word, and pulled out some clean clothes, making his way to the bathroom to shower. He couldn't do this, not now.

"Wow, real mature, Dean!" Sam spit out at him. "Just going to act like a baby and shut down? That's what you're best at huh? Ignoring real life? Running when things get too hard!"

Dean gave him a glance with an evil look then disappeared into the bathroom.

"Sam, don't you think you could have gone a little easier on him?" John asked once Dean was out of the room.

"Why? Can't handle the truth?"

"We don't know if that is the truth. We don't know how he ended up where he was."

"Well, with his past, it's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"You really think, considering what the hell the two of you had just been through, that he would willing subject himself to something like that?" Bobby questioned.

"Yeah, I do." Sam replied.

"Your brother was obviously not in his right mind when he left. And, he still isn't completely there. It's not going to be hard to push him over an edge that you don't want him to go." Bobby reminded him.

"Why? You afraid he's going to do something stupid? Like kill himself? So, what, if he's that damn dumb than let him do it!"

"You don't mean that." John chimed back into the conversation.

"Yes, I do! He's already fucked his life up. He's already crossed lines he should have never crossed, so what the hell is the difference?"

"Boy!" John's voice was full of irritation and exhaustion. "We don't know that he willingly got himself involved in anything. We don't know that he crossed that line on purpose. He was drugged for Christ sake, and it's possible he was drugged before he was ever with the first guy. In fact, the detective said there was evidence of him fighting, fighting more than anyone else there. FIGHTING, Sam! That means it wasn't something he wanted."

"Just means he regretted it once he got too involved."

Bobby sighed. "Is there no getting through to you?"

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Look, your brother may have messed up. Okay, he did mess up, he left. He stormed out in an emotional rage, but you can't say you ain't never did the same, I've known you far too long and I've seen you do the exact same thing. The difference is, your brother always had your back. He always made sure you were safe, no matter where you went. Even when you were at college he would keep an eye on you and pay close attention to the news stories around you."

Bobby was beyond the point of controlling his emotions any longer. "But, Dean walked out and found himself alone. No one was there to make sure he was safe. No one watched his back. So, yeah, he may have found himself in some trouble. It wouldn't be Dean if he didn't. But, the way things happened, rather he was desperate for money or not. Rather he knew what he was getting into or not, doesn't matter.

Bobby had raised his voice in frustration. "I don't give two shits if he walked into the place and told everyone there to fuck him. The thing is, the boy is broken, emotional, and confused and he needs all the damn support he can get right now. His past is just that, the past, right now, is what we need to deal with. Not what he did as a damn kid. And, if he's that desperate now, don't you think we need to help him figure out why and get him through it?"

Bobby made a lot of sense, but Sam was in no mood to listen to common sense, he was too busy fuming over his own emotions.

"I know why he's so desperate! He had to get his damn booze somehow!"

"If it was laced with drugs, I'd say someone else was buying it for him." John interjected.

"Exactly my point!" Sam said angrily.

Neither of them noticed the shower water turn off. Neither of them had noticed Dean stepped out from the bathroom and hearing their conversation had slid down the wall beside the bathroom door. He sat with his head in his hands, the unshed tears threatening to let loose.

He didn't understand. He didn't understand why, or how, he was in the shape he was in. He didn't understand why his little brother hated him so much.

Everything he did growing up was for his brother. He lost his childhood so he could take care of Sammy. He lost his innocence to make sure he had everything he needed. And now, he hated him, over something he didn't even remember.

John was the first one to notice Dean sitting so still against the wall. His knees pulled up to his chest. He wore a pair of sweatpants that were too loose on him, with the weight he had lost from being starved. And a t-shirt. He had a hoodie sitting beside him, but needed help bandaging his ribs and wrists before he could put it on.

He knew it would be baggy too, but that would be okay, it would make it easier for him to hide away in. His socks sat by his hoodie. His ankles torn and stitched, needed tending to also.

He was hoping his dad would be able to help him, but with the conversation that was taking place, he wondered if anyone would ever help him again. He might have messed up too much this time. He may have pushed everyone away, the only reason anyone would stay was out of pity. He was sure of it. But, he just wished he knew why. He wished he could remember what he did that tore them away from him. There was an emptiness in his chest, one that ached with loneliness and sadness.

His elbows rested on his knees that were at his chest, the back of his head against the wall behind him and his face buried in his hands. He just wanted to run, to leave the hell he had found himself in, but that's what got him here in the first place, he figured, in the morning, people would start leaving him, little by little, until he found himself alone. Alone in the darkness of hell that surrounded him.

It wasn't worth much if his family hated him. He didn't have a reason to live anymore, not without his brother and his dad. He started thinking of the ways he could end it, without ending it himself. He could find an ugly monster to hunt, and let it take him out. Go down swinging, like a hero, like a true hunter, no one had to know the real reason behind it. No one had to know he was really a coward and wanted to be taken down.

If he did it now, while he was injured, then he wouldn't have much of a chance anyhow, so it wouldn't really be like he went down intentionally, he was just too injured to be able to fight it off properly. Yeah, that sounded best. That was his ideal way to go, the way that would hopefully leave his dad proud. The way that wouldn't upset his brother. The way Bobby would be able to accept.

It would be just as easy to make his way back into the bathroom, tear open every cut on his body, add to the ones around his wrist, bleed out on the floor. The housekeeping could clean the mess, no one else would even have to worry about it. But, that would make him look like a coward and would disappoint his dad too much, he couldn't do that, not to Dad. The hunting ideal was way better. He would just have to find something to hunt.