Trigger warning for suicide attempt, and detailed description of drugs used to commit suicide.
For a long time now, Dean had felt like he was living on borrowed time. He should have died a long time ago. The first time, when he messed up his heart and Sam had found that faith healer. The next time, after the car accident, when their father had given his soul to save Dean's life. And again when he went to Hell, and Castiel rescued him. There were a lot of close calls between now and then, and Dean was beginning to wonder if he even could die.
He'd come close to testing that theory before. After losing Sam the first time, he almost put a gun to his head. But he figured he would at least try to save his brother. And it had worked.
Thoughts of suicide weren't a new thing. He'd considered it a lot, especially after getting out of Hell. The guilt of torturing so many souls...he needed to atone for it somehow.
After Sam had jumped Lucifer into the pit, Dean was going to end it. He was just done. He needed this nightmare to end, he couldn't take it anymore. He had every intention of driving Baby off a cliff. But on the way, he had stopped to say goodbye to Lisa and Ben. They convinced him to stay, and they saved his life.
Sam came back, life went on. But there was always this thought in the back of Dean's mind...that he shouldn't be here. Some days were worse than others, but he kept going. For Sammy.
But tonight...tonight he just couldn't. Self-loathing was consuming him. Guilt. How many times he'd let Sammy down. His father. Jo. Ellen. Bobby. Basically everyone he cared about.
He realized he was standing in the middle of the room, still clutching the coin in his hand. He unconsciously slipped it into his pocket, and drew a shaky breath. He needed some air. It felt like his brain was in a fog, with only one small light to guide him. One thing he was hyper-focused on. He knew what he needed to do.
There were a lot of ways he could go, but he didn't want to leave a mess for Sam to clean up. A headshot would be the quickest way to go, but it was an unpleasant scene to walk into. He didn't want Sam to see his brains all over the wall.
Pills.
He quickly left the motel, not even leaving Sam a note. He would be back soon.
He drove to the pharmacy, which of course was closed this time of night. It wasn't hard to break in, he simply picked the lock and disabled the security cameras. Not that he needed to; after tonight it wouldn't matter. He almost laughed at how easy this was. Too easy. Almost like luck was on his side.
This wasn't the first time he'd planned this. He knew exactly which drugs would do the trick. He hopped behind the pharmacist's counter and quickly located the Phenobarbital, along with Propranolol. He was about to leave when he spotted a Pediatric Electrolyte drink, which prevents vomiting. He could use that to make sure the pills didn't come back up.
Dean was in and out of the place within ten minutes. He drove back to the motel and parked, but didn't go in. Sam was probably out of the shower by now, and wondering where he was. If he was gonna do this, it had to be here.
He popped the top off the barbiturates, and took a handful. He didn't even hesitate before washing them down with the Electrolyte drink. He repeated the process until the bottle was gone, easily 60 pills. Now for the Phenobarbital. He did the same with these, starting to feel a little woozy. He finished off the drink, and leaned back against the impala's seat.
He could feel the barbiturate/beta-blocker cocktail slowing his heart and closing his airway. It wouldn't be long now. As his chest continued to tighten, he realized that he didn't want to die alone.
"Sammy." He whispered. He hadn't even told his brother goodbye. He hadn't written a note. What if Sam tried to bring him back? He had to understand that this was Dean's choice.
With difficulty, he stepped out of the Impala, leaning up against it for support. He staggered to the door and knocked. "Let me in, Sammy." He slurred.
The door opened, and Sam stood there, looking worried and kind of pissed. "Dude, if you were gonna go get drunk, you should have at least left a note."
"Sorry."
"What did you drink? You couldn't have been gone more than 20 minutes, I've never seen you get drunk this fast." Sam was staring at him.
Dean's vision was getting blurry. He pushed his way past Sam, and didn't even make it to the bed before collapsing onto the floor.
"Dean!" Sam dropped to his knees beside his brother. "Dean, what happened? Were you drugged?"
"Sammy...'m sorry. Please...don't leave me." Dean reached out for Sam. God, it hurt so bad...
"I'm not leaving," Sam was in a panic. "CAS!" He cried out.
"No." Dean tried to say. "Let me die," but he started seizing. His body felt like it was on fire. He couldn't breathe. It felt like his heart was trying to pump glue through his veins. He was shaking. It felt like he was being struck by lightning.
He could vaguely hear Sam screaming out for Castiel. Shit. If Cas got here in time...
He never finished the thought. Just when he couldn't take the pain anymore, he blacked out, praying this was the end.
Note to my readers: Please call a suicide hotline, or reach out to someone else if you are experiencing suicidal thoughts.
