Disclaimer: I do not receive any profit for my fanfictions, nor do I own Supernatural or Sam and Dean Winchester.
Title: Lose Yourself
Chapter Title: Chapter Three
Set After: Sometime after 'Nightmare', but 'The Benders' quotes and memories will be mixed in later (after it airs next week).
Summary: Dean tried to tell Sam that it wasn't his fault, that he had no part in Jess or their mom dying… Sam didn't believe him. Now the guilt is causing him to go down a road that Dean might not be able to bring him back from. His depression is hitting the brothers fast and hard, and Sam can only be pushed so far before losing himself completely.
Warnings: probably a few typos here and there...
"Please talk to me," Dean begged, his eyes pleading. "Please."
Sam took in another shaky breath, then nodded. "Okay. Just as long as I get my sarcastic, asshole older brother back." He felt relieved when Dean smirked slightly.
"As long as I get my geeky, annoying little brother back," Dean said, shrugging. He let go of Sam's arm. "Deal?"
Sam smirked slightly, shrugging. "What happened to 'No Chick Flick Moments'?"
"That jumped out the window when you put a knife to your arm." Dean crossed his arms, looking a bit annoyed. "Deal?" he repeated.
Sam sighed slightly, nodding. "Deal."
"Good," Dean said, nodding. "Sit. Relax. Speak." He sat down in a chair. "I got all the time in the world."
Sam sighed, taking in a deep breath. This was going to be a long day, he could already tell. He sat down on the bed, facing his brother.
"I don't even know where to start…"
Dean thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Just tell me what you were feeling last night. Tell me what the hell was going through your head that was bad enough to make you want to hurt yourself."
Sam sighed slightly, shaking his head. "Dean, this is hard."
"Why?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Because you're talking to me?"
"Well… yeah…" Sam said quietly, looking down at the ground.
"Would you rather talk to some shrink? Cause we can do that," Dean said, nodding. "We can find an office around here and set up a meeting with someone today. You don't have to talk to me about it if you don't want to."
Sam looked back up at his brother, looking a bit surprised. He knew that Dean wanted Sam to feel like he could talk to him about everything, since he always had been able to. And as he looked into his brother's eyes he could see the hurt masked underneath all the concern and fear.
Sam shook his head. "No, no shrink."
"Well, you have to talk to someone about it," Dean said, looking a bit annoyed. "Who's it gonna be? Me? A shrink? Some random old guy giving bread to birds in the park? You can't just keep this all locked up, Sam."
Sam nodded slightly, looking back down at the floor. "Yeah, I know…" he said quietly.
"Well?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Who?"
"Can I get an aspirin?" Sam asked, rubbing his temples slightly.
"What, that loss of blood make it so you can't walk?" Dean muttered, sounding a bit annoyed. But he stood up and walked over to his bag, grabbing a bottle of pills. He handed it to Sam.
"Thanks," Sam said, unscrewing the cap and shaking a few into his hand before throwing them in his mouth, swallowing without the need for water. He looked up at Dean, who was watching him intently. He sighed, shaking his head, a pained chuckle escaping his lips. "You. I'll talk to you."
"Okay," Dean said, nodding. "Take your time… don't rush."
Sam nodded slightly, taking a couple silent deep breaths. "Well, I just… I couldn't deal with it anymore, Dean. Mom and Jess's death… they were my fault. Mom died protecting me… Jess died just because she knew me. And then I had a dream… And I figured that if he didn't have anyone to come for then it wouldn't come true…"
Dean waited for a couple moments, making sure Sam was done talking for the moment, before speaking. "What was the dream about?" Sam shook his head, looking away from his brother. "Sam."
Sam looked back at Dean slowly, tears in his eyes. "I had a dream that you died; you died the same way Mom and Jess did, and it was because of me. I didn't want that to happen."
"Sam, it was probably your head messing with you," Dean said, rolling his eyes slightly. "You feel that it's your fault so your mind was helping you sort things out. It was probably just a normal dream."
"No, it wasn't," Sam whispered, shaking his head. "It was so real, Dean. I could feel the heat of the fire… I… I still remember what I felt when I was forced to stand there… staring at you burn with no way to stop it… It felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest… I didn't want you to die so I did the only thing I could think of to stop it."
"Killing yourself?" Dean asked. He sighed slightly, standing up. Sitting down next to his brother, he shook his head. "I don't care what kind of dream you had about me, Sam, I would never want you to trade in your life for mine. Do you understand me?"
"Dean, if you died, I --"
"Do you understand me?" Dean repeated, his voice a little louder than before.
Sam nodded, looking down at the ground. "Yeah, I understand you. But still, Dean…" He looked back up at his brother. "It's my fault."
"No, it's not," Dean said softly, shaking his head. "It's not your fault, Sam. I wish you would stop saying that. You're starting to sound like a broken record. And not of a good band, either."
"How can you just sit there and stare at me as if I didn't kill Mom?" Sam asked, more tears coming to his eyes.
"Because you didn't," Dean said slowly, yet forcefully. "That demon did. You were a baby, how could have killed her? Because you're a freakin psychic and it wanted you? So what if it did? Mom would have died protecting you. She would have died because she loved you enough to make sure nothing happened to you. It wasn't your fault."
Sam swallowed hard, looking back down at the ground. "It feels like it was," he whispered, a tear falling.
Dean sighed in annoyance, putting his head in his hands. He was beginning to get stressed out. How do you convince your stubborn ass little brother of something when he had his mind set on something else? It wasn't an easy task, but Dean knew that if he didn't keep going at it then the next time he might not wake up in time… He knew that if he didn't convince Sam that none of it was his fault that he'd find his brother in the bathroom, his arms cut up, with no pulse… he wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't let that happen.
"Sam, please," Dean begged, looking up at his brother. "Please stop."
"Stop?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. He let out a chuckle that held anything but amusement and humor.
"Stop beating yourself up!" Dean yelled, standing up quickly. "Stop blaming yourself! Stop…" Tears came to Dean's eyes and he swallowed hard. "Stop threatening to leave me again. I wouldn't be able to handle that."
Sam nodded slightly, standing up. He grabbed his brother and pulled him close, hugging him tightly. He was surprised when Dean hugged him back without a moment of hesitation.
"Please stop," Dean whispered, holding onto Sam tightly, afraid that if he let him go that Sam would leave.
Sam nodded slightly. "I won't hurt myself again. I promise."
"Howdy there, boys," a waitress said, walking up to Sam and Dean's table. After they had gotten control of themselves, and after Sam had washed up, they had left the motel to go get some breakfast, and was now at a diner across the street from Gary's Bar and Grill. "How is your breakfast coming along?"
Dean grinned like an idiot at the waitress. The woman in question could give Sophia Bush a run for her money. She had long brown hair and a slim, girly body. She wasn't too short, but definitely wasn't too tall. Her lips were pink and heart shaped, and her face looked as if it was made for an angel. "Actually --"
"It's fine," Sam interrupted, rolling his eyes slightly at his brother. "Thanks."
"Would you like me to bring ya'll the check?" the woman asked, not taking her eyes off of Dean.
"Please," Sam said, looking back at the newspaper he was holding.
"Alright. I'll be back in a jiffy." The woman smiled at Dean before leaving the table.
"I'd like to exercise her," Dean said, watching her leave. Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Dean looked over at the newspaper that was hidding his brother, then at his plate. "You haven't even touched your food."
"So?" Sam asked, not bothering to look at his brother; he remained behind the paper.
"So," Dean started, grabbing the paper from a very annoyed Sam, "not eating is just a slower way of killing yourself."
"I'm fine with coffee," Sam said, shrugging. He reached for the paper, but Dean pulled back a bit. "Dean, give it to me."
"As soon as you eat a pancake," Dean said, shrugging.
Sam shook his head, chuckling slightly. "You're kidding me, right?"
"Do I look like I'm joking around here?" Dean asked, his face serious.
Sam groaned in annoyance. "One pancake?"
"One pancake," Dean said, nodding. "Then the college boy can have his precious newspaper back."
Sam glared at his brother, clearly annoyed. He then grabbed his fork, starting to dig into the pancake. Both Sam and Dean knew that it'd be easy for Sam to get another newspaper. They both knew that he was only eating to satisfy Dean, and that made Dean happy. He was happy that while he was trying to help Sam, Sam wasn't pulling away like he had before… he was letting Dean help.
"There," Sam said, setting down his fork after a few minutes, one of his pancakes gone. "Happy now?"
"Yup," Dean said, grinning. He handed the paper back to his brother.
The woman returned, handing the check to Dean. "I hope to see ya'll again real soon. Think you'll be stopping by for dinner before you head out of town?"
"I think we just might," Dean said, grinning up at her. "Will you be working?"
"I sure will be," the woman said, smiling flirtatiously at Dean.
"We'll be back," Dean said, watching as the woman winked at him before leaving.
Sam shook his head. "Only you, Dean."
"What?" Dean asked defensively, looking over at his little brother.
Sam appeared from behind the paper, looking a bit amused. "Only you could get hit on by a married southern woman."
"Married?" Dean asked, his face quickly falling.
"She had a ring," Sam said, shrugging, before looking back at the paper.
"Damn," Dean cursed, shaking his head a bit. "I knew she was too good to be true."
"Let's go," Sam said, standing up from the table. He grabbed the bill from his brother's hands, looked at it, then grabbed his wallet. Grabbing a couple bills, he threw them on the table.
"What's the rush?" Dean asked, also standing up.
Sam looked over at his brother, but his eyes caught on someone outside the window behind Dean. His eyes went wide slightly. Jess was standing there, her hair gently being pushed by the light breeze, in her white nightgown. She locked eyes with Sam before looking over at Gary's Bar and Grill, pointing to it.
Dean turned around slowly. He then looked at his brother, his eyebrows raised. "Sam?" When Sam didn't respond, he waved a hand in front of his face. Sam immediately looked over at him. "You okay?"
"Did you see her?" Sam asked, quickly looking back at the window. Jess wasn't there anymore, she was gone…
"See who?" Dean asked, looking back at the window.
Sam stared for a moment longer, willing her to come back, before shaking his head. "No one, never mind." He looked back at Dean. "Let's go over to Gary's Bar and Grill."
"You just want to go? Without research?" Dean asked, and rolled his eyes when Sam nodded. "Sam, we don't know what's over there."
"So? We can at least check it out first," Sam said, grabbing his jacket and heading towards the door. "Let's go."
Haley: There's these woods behind to my house and I was think about exploring them later today.
Dean: Sure, if you wanna get yourself killed.
Haley: They're not dangerous!
Sam: Have you studied up on them?
Haley: On trees? Are you kidding me?
Dean: You're gonna get yourself killed.
Haley: Let's talk about this chapter, shall we?
Sam: What's up with Gary's?
Haley: Hehehe… you'll see. Pause...Sad sigh.
Dean: What's wrong with you now?
Haley: I get that this is an serious issue and everything, but I don't feel like I'm portraying you right. I mean, really. You're all… not you. I don't know, maybe I'm losing my touch or maybe I'm just being paranoid. Though, I have to say, that if I'm losing my touch then after this story all my readers can say bye-bye to the hope of new Supernatural stories from me… If I can't portray the characters right them I'm not gonna portray them at all.
Sam: I think you're doing fine.
Haley: Meh…