Chapter 2: Secret Revealed
Sam was furious with his brother…he sat heavily upon the end of his bed, his elbows digging into his upper thighs as he scrubbed his ragged palms over his face…he buried his face in his palms, thinking about Dean…he hadn't been like himself tonight…in fact, he pretty much been a dick…Dean wouldn't even talk to him, not even in the car ride back to the motel…
Sam's blind furry shifted on its track
abruptly…ebbing out of his mind slowly as worry flooded in. What
the Hell was going on? 'Hell…not the most brilliant choice of
words, genius' he thought…
He combed his long fingers back
through his unruly mop of hair, a low sigh rumbling through his
chest. Something was wrong…he had to know what…which means he was
going to have to confront Dean about it if he wanted to
know…yeah…this was probably not going to go well at all…he
inhaled deeply, holding it for a moment before allowing it to pour
out of him slowly…he stood and walked the few steps to the door. He
stood before it for a moment before raising his balled fingers to
knock on the cheap wood door.
"Dean?...." he called out after there was no answer to his knock, uncertainty weighing heavily in his voice…silence followed…
"Dean…if you want to talk about whatever's bothering you, I'm here bro…" he mentally kicked himself for his word choice….duh Sam…I wonder what could be on his mind….he shook his head at his own stupidity…he turned and stalked back over to the bed, sitting on the edge, he clicked on the tv, leaning his head on the fisted hand of the arm he had perched on top of his thigh once again…he flicked through the channels randomly, nothing peaking his interest. Sam lifted his head to look at the clock ticking away on the wall…Dean had been in there for almost 40 minutes. Sam was really starting to worry now…he flicked off the tv dropping the changer to the bed beside him. He stalked back to the door, knocking loudly.
"Dean!" he said, his voice loud and filled with worry….nothing…he didn't hear any movement form the other side of the door…his hand moved down and gripped the door handle, attempting to turn it. It wouldn't budge….locked…he swore under his breath for a moment before worry gripped him all the harder…what if Dean had been taken…or what if he had been drinking and passed out…he could have fallen or drank to much and…no…not finishing that thought…he shook his head as a denial of the thought of Dean laying dead behind the door…. He reached into his pocket for the lock pick set…he deftly popped the chintzy lock and turned the handle slowly, letting the door fall open before him…Sam's eyes widened in shock…Dean's body had slid unblocked or hindered to the floor at an awkward angle…one arm was twisted in an odd manner underneath his torso and the other was hanging off his hip, the palm and fingers covered in blood. There was a sizable pool of blood gathered beneath him. His upper thigh was gashed repeatedly, a few of the wound still weeping blood steadily from their edges…Sam gasped in a shocked breath, his pulse pounding through his temples…he traced direction of the limp fingers, following their path to the ground.
There lay the knife, coated in blood, left to lay where it had fallen from his brother's fingers as he passed out…Sam surged forward to his brothers pale form…he pressed his fingers to the artery in Dean's throat…he felt a ragged pulse thrumming beneath his fingers…he let out a small sigh of relief…he was alive…it was then that he saw redness peaking out from beneath the cloth on his brother's other thigh…he gently lifted the edge of the cloth to find long, ragged scars glaring back at him as well as fresher wounds, some still scabbed, all of them deep…he lifted the edge of the bloody side, finding similar results there…he swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump in his throat…tears wound their way down his cheek…Dean's face was streaked with the tracks of dried tears as well…Sam's head fell forward as silent sobs gripped him…how could he miss this…the drinking was worrisome, but this…he had had a friend in college who was a cutter…he thought he could understand the motivation behind the practice, especially in Dean's case, but understanding didn't change the fact that he knew that this type of coping was a sign of just how deeply his brother was hurting…