FACING YOUR DEMONS

Chapter 2

Dean always manages to surprise Sam, and not always in a good way.

Yay me - I managed a really quick update!

xxxxx

Dean sat slumped the side of his bed, cradling a damp facecloth against the side of his unshaven face. Even from the doorway Sam could see his cheek looked painfully swollen.

He assumed from Dean's bloodless complexion and the dark smudges beneath his heavy eyes, not to mention the fact that he was still dressed in the faded black T-shirt and frayed boxers he'd slept in last night, that Dean's night had not been a restful one.

"Dude, your face," he began; "what the hell …?"

Laying the facecloth aside on the nightstand with a resigned sigh, Dean looked up and Sam could see that his watery eyes were glassy, possibly with pain, or more likely, with copious amounts of painkillers. Knowing Dean as he did, it could just as easily have been either.

Dean seemed to have finally realised that this was one battle he couldn't win because he made no attempt to stop Sam from approaching and crouching down before him, giving his bare knee a reassuring pat in the process.

"M'tooth," Dean mumbled, his words thickly slurred through the inflammation; "hur's real bad." He reached up to cradle his cheek with a shaky hand.

Sam could feel the sheer misery that was rolling off the older Winchester in waves and he attempted a sympathetic smile.

Carefully reaching out to touch Dean's swollen face, he pulled back as Dean recoiled violently, and his heart sank as he realised he didn't need to touch; even from the merest brush of fingertips, he had felt the burning heat radiating from the inflamed swelling that marred his brother's face.

"Dean why didn't you say?"

Dean shrugged wearily, "s'been okay wi' painkillers."

Wincing as he felt his legs cramp underneath him, Sam shuffled round on his knees in an attempt to make himself more comfortable; he had a sinking suspicion this exchange wasn't going to be over anytime soon.

"How long?" he asked, pointing to Dean's face as if his brother was in any way unclear as to his meaning.

Dean paused before answering; "'bout a month," he volunteered; "s'got worse this week, an' swelled up real bad las' night."

"A month? You've had toothache for a whole goddamn month?" Sam mentally kicked himself; he knew Dean could be a devious sonofabitch when it came to neglecting himself in favour of others, but how could Sam have gone a whole month without realising something wasn't right? He scraped his hand over his face to mask an exasperated sigh; more to the point, how could Dean, the stupid jerk, have gone a whole month without seeing a dentist or at least asking for help?

Sam pulled in a deep breath to clear his head; "okay dude, I reckon you might have an abscess there," he rocked back on his heels as he began to rise; "I'll call a dentist; get an emergency appointment."

Dean's arm shot out and grabbed his wrist, preventing him from moving away. He shook his head, wide eyes pleading for Sam's co-operation.

Sam paused, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Dean, you've gotta get this dealt with right now."

"Th'painkillers help," Dean croaked; "need t'get some more."

"No Dean, all they do is mask the symptoms," Sam replied firmly, but as gently as he could manage; "they don't help the cause; you need a dentist to deal with this because if it's an infection, it's gonna start spreading."

He hesitated as Dean's grey face turned a faintly bilious green at his words.

"Dean?"

Dean remained silent; looking down into his lap, suddenly unable to face his brother.

"You're not …"

Time ticked by at a glacial pace before Dean gave the faintest of nods.

"Don' like the dentist," he murmured plaintively.

Sam dropped back to his knees and huffed out a shocked breath.

"You?" He stared at his despondent brother; "how can someone who does what you do be scared of the dentist? You're the strongest, most reckless person I know."

He received nothing but a miserable silence in response.

Rising on cramping legs, Sam settled himself on the bed next to Dean, resting his chin on his clasped hands as he tried to think back, reviewing the brothers' life experiences over and over in his head. Eventually he had to concede that he really couldn't recall Dean going to the dentist at any time he could ever remember.

"So …" he began hesitantly, not entirely sure how to broach the subject.

"Never been to the den'ist," Dean interrupted; "Dad wasn' exactly big on oral healthcare, so never had'da go. Never wanted t'go; din't like the idea of it."

Sam watched Dean grimace in pain as the simple act of talking hurt him badly.

"Since then this 'thing', it's like a fear of the unknown, it's jus' sat at the back of my mind, easy to avoid an' growin' and festerin' until what was jus' a stupid li'l chil'hood thing grew into a great big black cloud. I don' think I could go through with it S'mmy; rather be in pain – least I c'n take pills for that."

Sam sat and stared down at his feet in silence for a few moments.

"So …" Sam tried again; "what is it? The drill? The needle? What?"

Dean shook his head and sighed as he struggled to force out any kind of response; "it's, uh …"

Then it hit Sam squarely between the eyes; it was so blindingly obvious that he could have kicked himself. "The control," he stated flatly.

"It's the same reason you hate flying; you're scared of handing over control of a situation to someone else."

xxxxx

tbc