TW: SELF HARM

Hey guys :) This is really angsty so fair warning. This is written in the Mid-Season premiere and goes pretty dark. We didn't really get to see Jack's reaction after Michael and Dean being restored so this is my dark, twisted, interpretation of what happened. For more dark stuff like this read the DNA chapters, those go along this line. I hope you guys like this. Thanks for the support, you guys are awesome. Enjoy -Lola

"You're nothing."

Those words echoed in Jack's head on repeat when they finally locked Michael in Dean's head. Castiel had told him not to believe the words but it was hard. Everything Michael had said was Jack's worst fear. He was a monster. He was not family to Sam and Dean. He would never be good. Those words that fell out of Michael's mouth stained his mind. Worse even, it felt like acid slowly burning itself inside his soul.

Jack knew what he needed to do. Ever since Dean had really been having issues with Michael his Dads had stopped locking the blades up. In their line of work, not having access to weapons at all times was a liability. Jack had been fine, better than fine actually, but then tonight happened. Michael cut him deep emotionally so why couldn't Jack cut himself deep physically? Shouldn't the outside match how he felt on the inside? It made sense to Jack.

That's what led to Jack locking himself in the bathroom by the armory and made the water run for good measure. He knew his Dads were not likely to check in the bathroom by the armory anyway, because it was on the whole other side of the Bunker from their rooms. Why would they go to the bathroom farthest away from their rooms?

Jack was sitting on the bathroom floor with a knife in his hand. It had a wooden handle and was smooth to the touch. The tip of the knife was sharp, every part of it was sharp. Jack knew it was sharp everywhere because he was the one who sharpened the knives. He was the one who took care of the weapons as part of his training, but in his mind, he had to do it because that was the only way he could be useful. He was too weak, just like Michael had said. There was no use for weakness in the life they lived.

Jack closed his eyes as he drew the knife slowly across his skin and felt the pain and the wetness of blood hit him. He opened his blue eyes and looked down at the blood that had bubbled up onto the thin cut. What he had learned about cutting is that starting slow was the easiest way to make sure he was able to go for a long time and deeper. Tonight, he wanted to go very deep. He needed to pay for being so weak. He needed to pay for being a burden on Dean. He needed to pay for being a monster.

Jack kept moving the blade across his skin until it was getting deeper and deeper, he knew he should stop but he couldn't. He had repeated the actions so much he was starting to go numb as if he couldn't feel the pain anymore.

Dean Winchester knew something wasn't right. Well, of course he did, because Michael was banging around in his skull. But he also knew something wasn't right because of a sickening pit in his stomach. He went and peeked into Sam's room and saw he was fast asleep. He went and looked in Cas and found a note saying he was going to check on heaven. He then went to Jack's and found his bed empty. That's why he knew something wasn't right.

Dean quickly began walking and searching for Jack. He searched in all the rooms he would likely be in, but Dean couldn't find him. So, he went to the place where Jack thought he would last look: the bathroom by the armory. Dean heard the water running and knocked on the door, he was praying Jack was just taking a long shower or doing some other teenage boy activity. He prayed Jack wasn't doing something that he thought he could be doing. Dean thought they had talked about this. Dean thought they had made things clear. Well, Dean thought a lot of things, but all of the bad thoughts seemed to come true and the good ones seemed to just be fantasies.

"Jack?" Dean called his fist hitting the door gently. The older man leaned his head up against the door to listen for movement or a voice. "It's Dean, can you open the door?"

Dean waited for a reply but didn't get one. He heard something clatter to the floor, but he didn't know what it was. So, Dean did what any sensible hunter/parent would do: he broke down the door.

Jack scrambling back against the white, tiled wall when the door was forced open with a loud bang. When he had heard Dean originally, he froze. He didn't know what to do, and the knife just fell out of his hand. Jack's blue eyes met Dean's green ones, and all Jack could see on Dean's face was horror.

Dean saw three things at once, his son cowering against the bathroom wall, a bloody knife laying on the floor, and Jack's left arm was bloody, and some cuts were still bleeding. Dean didn't know what to say. So, he didn't say anything. He simply gathered up Jack and reached for a towel in the cabinet above them. He wrapped the towel around his arm before guiding him into the kitchen and sitting him on the island while he went to where they kept the first aid kit.

Jack didn't understand, he expected Dean to be angry. He expected Dean to yell at him or to scold him or freak out on him. Dean did kind of freak out but not in the way he expected. Dean was just cold. He simply and methodically looked at Jack's wounds and wrapped them. Jack was lucky most of them weren't deep, there were just a few that may have needed stitches, but Dean simply wrapped them. Jack was lucky Dean had seen many wounds and knew which ones would heal up and which ones wouldn't.

Jack watched as Dean went over to the fridge and got himself a beer and got Jack a glass of milk. He didn't understand why Dean was doing these actions, but he knew better than to question at the moment. Jack took the glass Dean held out for him and took a sip of the milk with his right hand. He enjoyed the cool feeling as it ran down his throat. It was soothing to him.

Dean watched his son and wondered how to start this conversation? He was exhausted himself and going through his own turmoil, how was he going to get through to Jack? "Does it hurt?" Dean asked stupidly, pointing to Jack's arm as he took a sip of his beer.

"Yeah," Jack said with a shrug as he drank some more of his milk. "But that's kind of the point." He said bluntly. He had found with Dean, using flowery language wouldn't go well. Dean wasn't one for chick flick moments but here they were having one.

"If you wanted to be in pain, I could have punched you in the face," Dean said only half joking. "You should ask Sam how much that hurts. I've done it to him more times than I can count." Dean said as he downed some more of his beer before reaching for the whiskey that was sitting out. He needed something way stronger than what he was originally drinking to have this conversation.

Jack shrugged his shoulders, it wasn't the same, but how to explain that to Dean? He didn't expect Dean to understand the need to show how damaged he felt on the outside. He looked at Dean whose emerald eyes were watching him carefully as if Dean was trying to read a book in a language he didn't understand.

"What Michael said," Jack asked as he looked down at his lap. "Was it true? That you still think I'm a monster? That you felt relieved when I died?" Jack looked up at Dean again. He wanted Dean just to be honest with him, so he could cope with the aftermath.

"No," Dean said shaking his head in horror. "No, Jack you're family. I was torn up when you died…it nearly killed me." Dean said shaking his head as he looked at his son. "Was that what made you do that?" Dean asked gesturing to his arm.

Jack sat thinking about it, before nodding a little. "Yeah, but it wasn't the only reason. Everything Michael said, everything he said about me a burden, was true. That's why I did it," Jack said looking at Dean's whose face turned into one of pain. "I was punishing myself for being a burden. It's something you would never do so I had to do it myself."

"I'm going to wake up Sam up," Dean replied, he didn't know how to make this better. They had this conversation before but that didn't mean it stuck with the young Nephilim. "Don't move," Dean said, he would also pray to Cas to get him to come back so they all could put their heads together to figure this out.

Jack watched Dean leave the room and looked down at his hands. Now look what he did. He was causing even more problems which made his stomach churn. He hated that he made his Dads worried. He hated that he couldn't help Dean. He hated not being able to help people. He hated how he felt.

Soon, all three of his Dads were sitting in the kitchen and looking at him as he sat on the kitchen island. Sam was in one of the kitchen chairs and Castiel sat on one of the high tops near him. Dean was sitting right by him and Jack didn't know what to think as Dean got off of the island and turned to him.

"Let's talk about this." Sam said as he watched his brother pace the room. "What's going on Jack?"

Jack simply shrugged his shoulders. Even though Sam was better with emotions, he was terrible with stuff like this. "You won't understand," Jack said simply and as nicely as he could.

"Try me," Sam said with an encouraging, but sad, smile in his direction. "I promise I will probably understand more than you think."

"We want to help you," Castiel weighed in from his place on the high-top chair looking up at his son with his blue eyes. "I promised your mother I would look after you, and more than that you're important to us." Cas said looking at Sam and Dean for validation.

Jack sighed running a hand through his hair. "You don't understand what it feels like to feel like no one needs you or wants you." Jack said looking at each of his Dads. "All of you have been saving people your whole lives. All of you have been useful your whole lives. I haven't been. I'm nothing, just like Michael said." Jack said as he looked down at his lap as a tear fell down his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to shut off the tears that were starting to roll down his cheeks.

"Hey," Dean said going over there and wrapping his arms around Jack. He knew his son needed to feel touch and Dean rarely gave hugs. He wasn't sure when he would get to hug Jack again anyway, with Michael in his hands he might not be around much longer. If he could save Jack before he had to leave he would be truly happy. "Don't talk like that, alright? You're not nothing, screw Michael. He knows nothing."

"He is right," Cas piped up coming over and standing beside Jack. "You cannot believe a word Michael says. He is manipulative and angry and would like nothing more than to burn down the world for his pleasure. He said all of that just to get to you." Cas said with a shake of his head. He knew Michael wanted to burn down the world, so he could catch up to God. Cas had news for him, God didn't care.

Sam came over as well and looked down at their son. His heart ached for his son, and he could feel the pain. If there was one thing Sam was great at, it was feeling other people's feelings. Sam had so much empathy it hurt, and he just wanted to help. Sometimes he didn't come across as helpful though.

"I know what it's like," Sam said with a sad look in his eyes. "To feel as if you're unwanted. To feel as if you're a failure and you screw up everything you touch." Sam said closing his eyes and then opening as he looked at Jack. "I felt that way for most of my life. But it gets better. Hurting yourself won't ever make it better. It will just make it worse and 'punishing' yourself." Sam said doing air quotes on the punishing. "Won't change anything. You're not alone."

Jack looked at each of his Dads, they were trying so hard to help him, but he just couldn't believe them. "I just….I just don't feel okay," Jack said looking at them with a shake of his head. "I feel…I don't know how I feel."

Dean looked at his son and his green eyes hardened. "None of us feel okay, Jack." Dean said bluntly. "None of us feel alright, but we get up and fight every single day. We all have shit we're dealing with but folding in on yourself isn't an option." Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders as he ran a hand over his face. "Take that anger, and hatred, and self-loathing out on the monsters. Take it out on the things we hunt, because we can't afford to lose you." Dean said honestly.

"Dean's right," Cas said putting his own ideas into the conversation. "You are a great asset. We need you."

"You don't need me," Jack said with a shake of his head as he looked up at Dean and Cas. "I'll just get in the way."

Dean shook his head in frustration. It was as if Jack was deaf and blind, he could not see or hear what the rest of them did. "Damn it Jack, we didn't fight for you to live for nothing." Dean said harshly. He hated how lost everyone was. "Everyone has freaking something, it does not give you an excuse to destroy yourself. If we can't take ourselves apart, you sure as hell can't."

Jack smiled a little at Dean, it was a smile full of pain, but it was a smile. "Promise?" Jack asked his Dads. If he couldn't wreck himself and leave his Dads, then his Dads couldn't either. They all had to stay together. Maybe that would make things better.

"Promise," Sam answered for the group as he looked at his son. "Come on, you're going to hang out with me tonight, Dean tomorrow, and Cas the next night. We're going to get through this together, just like we always do." Sam assured his son as he pulled him into a hug.

"It may feel impossible," Dean said with a slight grin. "But impossible odds are the best kind of odds, because you're a Winchester. Winchesters' always win when the odds are completely stacked against them."