a/n: This is a little darker than what I usually write but I watched 15x04 Atomic Monsters yesterday, and is it just me or was Dean a bit too happy in that episode? I think that he definitely had something going on and so I decided to do what I do best and whump him bc that's the evil person I am
Episode Tag: 15x04 Atomic Monsters so spoilers for everything up to and including that episode
Warnings: mentions of suicide, blood, angst
Sam woke up with the feeling that something was wrong. He didn't know what, but he had a twisted feeling in his gut, and from over a decade of hunting, Sam had learned to trust those feelings.
He checked his clock. 2:15 a.m. Tiredly rubbing at his eyes, Sam contemplated his next steps. He could go back to sleep and risk getting plagued by nightmares of Dean killing the vampire kid. The one that had insisted that he was a monster and needed to be stopped. Or maybe this time the nightmare would be about mom, or Jack, or Rowena, or God. Or maybe about him killing Dean. Again.
Deciding he'd rather not risk it, Sam swung his feet over the side of his bed and stood up, slightly swaying on his feet. Ever since the rip had opened in Hell and he and his brother had lost even more people they loved trying to save those that weren't even going to thank them, Sam hadn't been sleeping well. In fact, he'd barely been sleeping at all. But oh what he would do to be normal. To know the 'end of the world' as a cancelled lacrosse game. To go to sleep, not fearing for his life and the lives of everyone he loved.
Sam would give almost anything to let the hero of this story not be him. But, God had other plans. Literally.
Sighing, Sam pulled his thoughts away from that dark corner of his mind. He made his way to the door and walked out into the hall. Sam padded softly to the kitchen, secretly hoping that Dean would also be awake, and Sam would have some company. But the lights in the kitchen were off, and the bottles of alcohol were all in their accorded places.
If Dean wasn't awake, then Sam wouldn't want to start bustling about the kitchen and wake his brother up. Dean needed the sleep. So Sam rubbed his neck and walked back to his room, passing Dean's in the process.
There was no snoring coming from his brother's room, which was strange. Dean usually made enough noise in his sleep to wake up an army. Sam knew this from years upon years of learning how to ignore the rumbles and snores.
"Dean?" Sam called out. He tried his brother's door and found that it was locked. His brother never locked his doors. Why start now? Sam's blood ran cold. Unless something was wrong.
Sam called out again when there was no answer. He rapped his knuckles against the sturdy wood. "You good in there?" Still no answer. Getting concerned now, Sam hit the door again. He didn't know why, but something about this felt wrong, but what exactly he couldn't put his finger on. All he knew was that something was definitely, very, very wrong.
"Dean if you don't open the door right now, I'm breaking it down!" No answer. Again. So Sam tried kicking the door in, but soon realized that it was futile, seeing as this was a Men of Letters bunker. Cursing himself for not realizing sooner, Sam realized that they had keys to every room, just hanging in the library.
He didn't know why, but he felt the sudden urge to pick up his pace, and although he had walked there, Sam broke into a jog as he was coming back, keys in hand. Hands shaking for no explainable reason, Sam quickly found the correct key after some shuffling around, and opened the door to his brother's room.
The first thing that hit him was the smell. The familiar metallic smell of blood. The next thing that registered in Sam's mind was the quantity of it. It was all over the place, and his eyes darted from the bed to the floor, where it was now forming a slowly but steadily growing puddle around a body. Dean's body.
A scream was ripped from Sam's throat and the keys clattered to the ground as he lunged towards his brother, who was lying motionless on the painted blood red ground.
"Dean! No, no, no, you have to wake up." Sam gently pulled his brother close to him, and his fingers grappled for a pulse. When he realized that his hands were shaking too much to tell if his brother even had one, he lightly tapped his brother's face. "Open your eyes, man. Please please please."
Sam's mind was completely blank as he tried to piece together what had happened. He hadn't heard anyone breaking into the bunker. A ghost? No, the wardings had just been refreshed and redrawn a week ago. It couldn't have been any supernatural being. Then what-
Sam froze as he saw the four bloody cuts running vertically along Dean's arm. Hoping and praying that he wouldn't find the cause of the cuts in Dean's other hand, Sam's heart almost stopped beating as he took in the sight of his brother's loose grip on the blood soaked knife.
"Oh god Dean, what the hell did you do…" Sam choked out. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. Why would Dean do this? It had been Sam that had been broken, shut off, complaining. Dean had been the one that had laughed and smiled and tried to make Sam feel better. Why would he do something like this? Maybe he was cursed. Yes. That was it. Sam abandoned all other thoughts and focused on that, not willing to believe that Dean had done this to himself. Not his Dean.
His Dean that had his head in Sam's lap as his brother ripped up one of his shirts and started wrapping it around the cuts in his arm that were seeping fresh blood. Blood that immediately soaked through the layers of shirts. Sam was still trying to wake his brother up, shaking him and yelling his name. He never got any responses.
"Wake up, man. Please wake up. Don't do this to me, c'mon. Dean! Please don't do this! I can't- I can't-" The tears that Sam had tried to hold back for so long were now spilling down his face. He was mere seconds away from sobbing, from breaking down completely, from prying the knife from his brother's hand and using it on himself.
But he didn't. He didn't because he had already lost so much, and damn him if he'd lose Dean too. If there was even a sliver of a chance that he could get Dean out and to a hospital, Sam would take it. He'd do anything and everything to make sure that his brother stayed alive and breathing. And sometimes it scared him, the things he was willing to do for Dean.
Wiping at his face with his sleeve, Sam grit his teeth, and keeping up a mantra of "I've got you Dean, stay with me, keep breathing" he hooked one arm under his brothers' shoulders and the other under his knees and he stumbled out of Dean's room and almost ran to the garage.
Being extremely careful with his precious cargo, Sam opened the door to the Impala and slid his brother into the passenger seat. He knew Dean would chew him out for getting blood on his Baby if he woke up. No. Sam shook his head. Not if, but when he woke up. Because if Dean didn't survive the night then neither would Sam.
With that silent promise to Dean, Sam started the Impala and roared out onto the street. The nearest hospital wasn't far, and Sam ran lights and went miles above the speed limit. Because he didn't care. All that mattered to him was Dean. Because Dean was there for Sam when nobody else was. Always. Dean was Sam's light at the end of the tunnel, and now that light was slowly fading.
Driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on Dean's chest, Sam willed the car to go faster. They were hitting too many potholes for the hand on his brother's chest to tell Sam if he was still breathing, but he refused to take it off. The physical contact reassured him that his brother was real and here, something that they both needed. The past few weeks, Sam had realized that they had started to touch more. A hug here, a slap on the shoulder there. And even if neither brother would admit it, it was more comforting than they realized. The touches reminded them that they were still liked, still loved by the other. And Sam refused to let that go.
Sam winced as they flew over a particularly big pothole, and then froze. Froze because the Impala was slowing down, her engine slowly giving out.
"No! No no no no please! It's Dean! Please, you have to keep going!" If Dean were awake he'd laugh at Sam for talking to the car, because that's something that only Dean did. Only Dean and his macho attitude and smirk and devilish glint in his eyes that Sam would give anything to see again. "You can't stop now." He whispered to the car, which had done just that.
They were still a ways from the hospital. There was no way that Dean would make it if they walked, and Sam cursed and pulled out his phone. Screw Dean and his hatred for ambulances. If they would save his brother's life, Sam was down.
"911. What's your emergency?"
"My brother tried to kill himself." Sam's breath hitched as he said the words, still not quite believing it. "I tried driving him to the hospital but our car broke down on…" Sam trailed off, trying to remember the name of the stretch of road that they were on. "Near the main road. I don't know where exactly but you have to send an ambulance. You have to help-"
"Please calm down sir. We'll send an ambulance right away. It'll take a bit to find you, but you should keep him warm and put pressure on his wounds. Do you know how deep the cuts are?"
Sam shut his eyes and tried not to remember the gashes carved into his brother. "No," he whispered into the phone.
"That's fine. The ambulance is on it's way. It'll be about ten minutes and-" Sam hung up. Ten minutes. He didn't know if his brother had that time. Who knows how long Dean had been lying in his room, surrounded by blood. So much blood. Sam looked down at himself. He was coated with it. It was soaking into his shirt and pants, and was staining his hands. He hated it; how many times he had to watch his brother's blood leak out of him. When would it stop?
Keep him warm and put pressure on his wounds. That's what she said. And so help him God he would. If that's what it took to keep Dean alive, he would.
Sam turned and looked at his brother, who was slumped against the door. The blood on his arm was glinting in the dim moonlight, giving off a metallic tang. Sam racked his brain for a moment, trying to find a way that he could both keep his brother warm and maintain pressure on the slashes.
Making up his mind, Sam clambered out of the front seat and hauled himself into the back, then pulling Dean back with him. He tried to be as gentle as possible, but Dean's head bumped the ceiling as Sam arranged him so that he was practically sitting in Sam's lap, with Sam's arms wrapped around him.
Dean groaned. Sam's eyes went wide as he pulled back a bit to look at Dean's face. "Dean? Dean, can you hear me?"
Dean's eyes fluttered open, and Sam couldn't hold back his tears at the sight of the exhausted but still apple green eyes that were now starting to close again.
"No no no, Dean, open your eyes. You gotta stay awake man." Sam shook Dean slightly. His brother's head lolled to the side, but he did what he was told and fought to keep his eyes open as they landed on Sam again.
"S'm?" It was more of a moan than a whisper, but Sam still heard, still understood Dean.
"I'm here. I've got you. You just have to stay awake, ok? Can you do that for me?"
"H'rts, S'm. 'M so tir'd." Dean's eyes were drooping back, but Sam was too scared that if he closed them, they might never open again. And Sam couldn't live with that.
"Dean! Hey hey hey, no don't go." With another groan, Dean opened his eyes again and Sam heaved a sigh of relief when they didn't close immediately. He wrapped his arms tighter around his brother and gently started rocking them back and forth, murmuring into Dean's ear a soft litany of "Why?"s.
Sam almost missed it when Dean said something. He had been too focused on straining his ears to listen for the sounds of the ambulance. Realizing that the noise Dean made formed a word, Sam ducked his head closer to Dean's mouth, wincing when the voice that came out sounded broken and weak.
"Wanted you… wanted you to be happy, Sammy."
Sam did a small double take. "You wanted me to be happy? Dean, how can you expect me to be happy when you're not with me."
"Before. With… with Jessica. And… and Amelia." Dean's breath was coming in short gasps now, but Sam just curled his body over his brother's, praying that the ambulance would come quicker.
He barked out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Dean, do you really think that I was happy with them? I missed you. I missed you every second of every day. How could you think-"
Dean made a small noise in the back of his throat and Sam immediately tensed. His brother then let out a cough that shook Sam to the core, and slumped into Sam. In an even quieter voice, he whispered, "'S all I… I ever wanted. You t' b happy." He lifted his head weakly and looked at Sam, whose face was streaked with tears and he wasn't even trying to hide it. "Promise you'll be happy."
Sam shook his head furiously. "No Dean. Not without you."
"S'rry Sammy."
Dean's eyes rolled into his head and his body went slack against Sam's.
"Dean! Dean hey hey hey no wake up. Open your eyes Dean! Don't do this to me, please wake up…" But Dean wasn't moving. Dean wasn't opening his eyes back up and Sam could no longer hear the rasp of air going into and out of his brother's lungs. "No no no Dean! Dean I can't lose you. I love you Dean. I love you so much. Please don't leave me."
And in the distance he could hear the sound of sirens, but they were too late. Too late to save his brother, who had bled out in his arms while Sam just watched. Watched the life leave his brother.
Sam let out a keening noise and buried his face in his brother's neck, body wracked with sobs. He wasn't even trying to stop them now. The tears kept coming and coming, and Sam was keeping up a mantra of "I love you"s, as if that would bring his brother back.
The medics had a hard time untangling Sam from his brother, but when the job was done and Dean was loaded into the ambulance, Sam chose to ride in the front, not willing to look at his brother's bloody body again. He'd been forced to do so too many times.
Sam was numb. Everything going on around him didn't make sense, because in a world without Dean, nothing made sense. They were rolling Dean into the hospital, and Sam was put in the waiting room, but none of this registered in Sam's mind. He only saw the image of his brother, arms bloodied, knife in hand, still on the floor. Not breathing.
So Sam sat and sat, and doctors came to talk to him but he wasn't listening. Not really.
And then his phone buzzed. He had an email. From… Dean? Taking a shuddering breath, Sam opened it and began reading.
Hey bitch.
I wasn't going to write a note because you know my handwriting sucks, but I didn't want to leave you without an explanation. I did some searching on the internet (which you still insist isn't only for porn and I guess you're right) and found out how to schedule an email to be sent so that you're not the one sending it at that time, because Heaven and Hell know that I'm not going to be around now to send it. Here goes nothing.
Remember that case a few days back? The one with the vamp kid in that funky little town? I saw the way you looked at those people, Sam. Saw how you wanted a life like theirs. A normal life. One without monsters and angels and demons and God.
And I'm keeping from that. Because I know that if I'm in the hunting business, then you are too. (Mostly because you're a stubborn ass that doesn't believe that I can handle myself.)
So I decided that if I'd quit hunting, you would, too. Only, you know I can't live a normal life. Never could, never will.
And I'm tired, Sam. We've lost so much, and I just want it to be done with. I want you to be happy.
So go be happy Sam. Go find yourself a hot chick and go get yourself 2.5 kids and white fence and hit another dog. Be happy. Please.
(If you try to bring me back or kill yourself, I WILL come back and strangle you)
I love you Sammy,
Dean
And then the gravity of the situation hit him. His brother had killed himself for Sam. So that Sam would be happy. So that Sam could have a normal apple pie life. Everything for Sam. And all Sam wanted to do was scream. Scream at the world and scream at himself and scream at Dean. Dean, who didn't think that he deserved to be happy, too.
"Mr. Winchester?"
"What?" Sam almost snarled at the man in white who was no doubt going to tell him now that his brother was dead. Dead and Sam could do nothing about it. But that was fine, because strangle threat or not, Sam wasn't living on this Earth if his brother wasn't there with him.
"Your brother has lost a lot of blood, but we believe that he will pull through."
Sam's world stopped.
He was on his feet in an instant. "Can I see him?"
The doctor, looking surprised that the man that had been sitting unmoving in the hospital chair for hours was now up and already darting past him before the word "yes" even left his mouth.
Sam barreled through the halls, looking for his brother's room. He swung the door open and marched inside, almost sinking to his knees when he saw Dean's green eyes looking back at him.
They stared at each other in silence.
"DEAN WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?" Sam exploded. "YOU SAW ME MOPING AROUND BECAUSE OF A CASE AND YOU DECIDED TO KILL YOURSELF? BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT IT'D MAKE ME HAPPY? DEAN, PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME HOW TAKING AWAY THE ONE THING THAT I LOVE MOST WILL MAKE ME HAPPY? BECAUSE I STILL DON'T UNDERSTAND-"
"Sammy-"
"SHUT THE HELL UP! YOU DON'T GET TO TALK! NOT WHEN YOU ALMOST COMMITTED SUICIDE. BECAUSE OF ME!"
"Sam, no. It wasn't because of you-"
"DON'T GIVE ME ANY OF THAT CRAP, DEAN! YOU WERE DYING! YOU- YOU-" Sam's voice suddenly shrunk to a whisper. "You were bleeding out in my arms and I couldn't do anything to save you."
Neither brother said anything, but tears were streaking down Sam's face, and Dean looked as if he were barely holding it together. The silence stretched on, seemingly forever, until Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head back on his pillow.
"It was my fault. Everything that happened was my fault, and you were forced into this mess because of me." Sam was about to cut in when Dean raised his hand to stop him. "Let me explain, Sammy. Please."
Sam shut his mouth, and Dean continued. "When Michael was in me, in my head, I had a chance to stop all of this. Billy had said that the only way that this would turn out right is if I got into the box. But I didn't. I didn't because I believed you and thought that we could fix all this. If I had just got into that damn thing in the first place, Jack wouldn't have had to use up his soul killing Michael, he wouldn't have killed mom, God wouldn't have come here and messed up our fricking lives again. But I was stupid, and now-"
"Don't you dare. Don't you dare think that I have ever regretted, even once, keeping you from getting into that death trap." Sam growled, stepping closer to Dean's bed. "Because that is not true. None of this is you. It's God. So don't you dare blame yourself for mom, or Jack. It wasn't your fault."
And Dean opened his eyes and gave Sam that look that made Sam want to do anything and everything to make his brother happy. The look that was so full of pain and sadness and exhaustion. The look that touched something deep inside of Sam.
"And God? We will deal with him. Together. Like we always do, Dean. And yes, sometimes I wish that we didn't have to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders, but that doesn't mean that we just get to quit."
Dean didn't answer, but Sam wasn't really expecting him to, anyway.
Instead, he heaved a sigh and turned away from Dean's bed, running a tired hand through his hair. Sam suddenly realized that he'd been at the hospital for hours. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink since he had gone to sleep the day before. And neither had Dean.
Not wanting to remain in the silent hospital room with his now ashamed brother, he decided to leave. Sam was about to start making his way to the door to get them both coffee, when he heard Dean clear his throat behind him. He swiveled his head towards his brother.
"I'm… I'm sorry, Sammy. You were just so miserable in the bunker, day and night. And nothing I did seems to help. We haven't had a case in weeks, and I just-" Dean's breath hitched. "I just feel so helpless. All the damn time. And I hate it." At this, a tear finally broke loose and found its way down Dean's face. Then another one, and another one.
And then Sam was across the room and gathering his brother in his arms for the second time that day. Only this time, his brother was very much alive and clinging to Sam just as hard as Sam was clinging to Dean.
"Don't you ever do that to me again, Dean." Sam choked out when the tears had stopped and he was just sitting on the bed, arms wrapped around his brother. He had started rubbing Dean's back subconsciously, and now moved his hands to Dean's head, running his fingers through his brother's hair. "Promise you'll never do that again."
"I promise." Came the muffled reply from Dean, and Sam visibly relaxed, shoulder slumping forward. They stayed like that for a while, hugging as if their lives depended on it, until Dean pulled back and wiped at his face with the sleeve of his hospital gown.
He sniffed and gave Sam a watery smile, who returned it. After a moment, Dean lightly punched Sam in the shoulder and smirked. "Get me some water."
Sam let out a quiet laugh, relieved that things were back to normal. Well, as normal as things could get when you're a Winchester. He stuck his tongue out at his brother. "You didn't ask very nicely."
"Get me some water, bitch."
"Jerk."
"Oh you know you love me."
"Yeah you know I do."
And Sam didn't think that truer words had ever been spoken.