Summary:

Stuck in the bunker recovering from an injury, Dean reflects on his current situation...
#StayHomeWriMo Day #1 Prompt: Write about a character who is stuck inside. How do they feel about it? Why are they there?

**TRIGGER WARNING: implied/referenced self-harm**

I told Sammy it was bullshit. I never let a monster take me down so far that I couldn't crawl my way back up through the darkness. Come hell or high water or Chuck himself, they can all be damned if they think Dean Winchester is goin' down without a fight. I guess I'm damning Sammy now, too, because he left me here. Stupid son of a bitch.

He left me...here.

I don't care that it's just a nest of vamps he's dustin'. I should be there, you know? It don't make no sense for Sammy to be out there by himself and me be...here. In the bunker where - sure - my mattress remembers me, I can watch whatever the hell I want, and the food is amazing because pizza plus no judgement equals awesome. Any other day, sure, all that stuff is great.

But he frickin' sidelined me, man. And I got the grand lecture before he left. You know he couldn't leave that well enough alone, oh no. He had to come in, Mr. High-and-mighty-look-at-me-I'm-all-smart-and-stuff, and tell me "oh, you'll impair your healing" and "look, I can take care of it, Dean" and "it's just a nest of vamps, man; I've got this" and "I don't want you getting hurt...again".

Then with the stupid, sad puppy dog eyes - like those ever work on anybody, seriously - until finally...okay, I just had to give in.

Because I didn't want to tell him. Because, you know...he's wrong. Of course, he's wrong. He's always wrong. Who do you think runs this place?

But yeah, okay...he's right.

I can't go. Hell, I can't even move without somethin' shooting through my body like a lightning bolt sparking a freaking wildfire, man. It hurts. I'm not gonna tell Sammy that. He doesn't need to know. But whatever those witches cursed me with on that last run...it ain't gone. I know Sam and Cass ran the spell, did the thing with the stuff and the woohoo - problem solved. Episode concluded. Story over.

But I still feel it.

Why's it still there?

I knew I couldn't go tonight. But I wanted to. At least part of me wanted to. But this other...thing inside me - it doesn't care. It makes me not care. And I don't know it. Doesn't even feel like me, but it's gotta be me, right? Because it's me that's feeling it. Or is it makin' me feel it?

Hell, I don't even frickin' know anymore. All I know is I want it out. If I could salt and burn the sneaky little son of a bitch, I'd do it. But I don't even know what it is. I want to carve it out of me. It's growing, and it's dark, and I've felt this before. I don't want to feel it again. I just don't.

I can't.

I wonder if I could cut it out. That's possible. There's a knife in the kitchen. Might not be too hard. Feels like it's right here, waiting for me to come and get rid of it. Get it out of me. Just one moment, man. One simple moment, and I could be free...

What? No, Cass, geez. Calm down, dude. I'm fine. Just...leave me alone, okay? I got this.

I freakin' got this.