When I say I have had this written but not enough time to publish, I'm not making excuses. My life is just really really chaotic right now.
It's Easter Break so I finally have a minute to catch my breath. My show that I directed played fice shows, all sold out and it was often! But it meant that I had no time will still doing a full class load.
Just a little life update :)
Here's the next chapter!
~TH~
It started as an annoyance. A distant sound that wasn't really doing any harm.
Except it wasn't stopping.
It was getting louder.
And louder.
And someone really needed to turn that beeping off.
As the sound split past annoying into absolutely angering, the beeping sped up.
Fine. If no one was going to turn it off, Dean would just have to wake up and do it himself.
It took longer than he would have liked. The noise growing louder as he grew closer to consciousness.
Dean finally blinked his eyes opened, everything was blurry. He wondered if it had to do with the pounding in his head. He slammed his eyes back shut, unable to deal with his pounding skull. The groan escaped his lips as the pounding continued even through the blessed darkness behind his lids.
"Deuce?"
He didn't want to answer. He wanted to go back to whatever place he had just come from where it was dark and quiet and nothing hurt.
"Deuce are you with me?"
Dean knew that voice. And that name. And he knew that he couldn't ignore it for long. And deep down he couldn't help but feel that he owed it to him.
This time he only opened one eye, seeing nothing but a blurry figure.
"You with me? You awake?"
The younger boy fought the urge to close his eye back and drift away. Caleb knew he was alive and now he would let Dean rest in peace, right?
"Look, man, I really need to know if you're in there. You're kinda freaking me out."
Something about those words felt familiar.
Something about him not being him-
The wave of memories that crashed over him was actually painful.
He remembered everything that had happened.
Everything.
His energy seemed to be zapped away, and his single eye closed. Tears tried form but Dean fought them back. He knew he couldn't look weak right now. Well, anymore weak than he already was.
But the gut wrenching pain and guilt still lingered.
Dean had killed Whiteman.
He'd killed the man that had taken him in and fed him and given him a place off the streets. Taken him in when no one else would.
But that wasn't even the worst of it.
Dean had fallen for a 'd fallen for it, despite his training and everything he knew. He'd known something was off. He had felt it. And yet… and yet he'd ignored it. Just gone with it. He'd wanted it so bad that he allowed himself to be drawn into a human sacrificing cult.
He was pathetic.
A pathetic hunter.
A pathetic son.
A pathetic friend.
"Come on, Deuce. Don't fade out on me now. Please."
And yet one friend was still here. One friend put up with all of it even when he had no reason to. They should have let him rot in the castle. They shouldn't have saved him or helped him or done anything they had.
And yet they had.
Well, at least Caleb had.
Dean still wasn't sure how he felt about the rest of the Brotherhood.
But that wasn't what mattered.
What mattered was that Caleb was here. And for some reason,his friend needed him .
He owed it to his friend to open his eyes.
It took more effort than he anticipated, but he managed to get both of his eyes to open.
"There you are." Caleb was still blurry, but after a few blinks Dean could make out a weak smile. His friend looked tired, older. There was a good chance that Caleb hadn't left the room since Dean entered it. Yet another thing to feel guilty about.
"Hey man," The worried voice brought Dean out of his daze."Say something. Don't just stare at me." Caleb tried for a laugh, but it came out more like a sob.
Dean pressed his eyes closed before opening them again, trying to gather the strength it would take to speak. It seemed like an inhuman task at the moment. "Hey." Dean finally managed, barely audible. Even the small word left his throat aching. It was like he hadn't spoken in years.
Caleb's smile was more genuine this time. He quickly poured a cup of water and added a straw before bringing it to Dean's mouth. The younger boy started to reach for it, but Caleb shook his head, "Just let me hold it for now." Dean was too tired to argue.
"I'm glad you're awake." Caleb continued, an almost goofy grin on his unshaven face. "Mac was beginning to worry."
Dean knew that was code for: You terrified me and nearly brought me to chick flick sobbing. Never do that again.
"How long was I out?" As soon as Dean spoke, the drink was removed. It was probably a good thing. While he was thirsty, and the water helped his throat, he almost felt ill after drinking it.
It was Caleb's turn to close his eyes, rubbing an exhausted hand down his face. "Three days."
No.
No, that wasn't right.
There was no way- no reason.
"What?" Was all he managed to say. That news felt devastating in a way that he couldn't explain or understand.
"Yeah." Caleb moved his hand again, this time running it through his hair.. "Mac was beginning to wonder- he didn't know-" A pause before a strained voice finished, "I'm glad you're awake."
If Dean had any doubts of the kind of shape he was in, Caleb's voice erased them.
"What happened?" He whispered. "I remember the Entetee and- what happened after that?"
He'd lost days and he couldn't wrap his head around that.
"Mac thinks you were psychically connected to it. When it died you felt the psychic backlash."
"What about the others? Carlos was still there and-"
"They're all fine. They're weak and hungry but no one collapsed like you. And no one else had been…" Caleb seemed unable to finish the sentence, but motioned towards Dean's left side.
It was then that the boy noticed his wrapped and splinted wrist. He had somehow forgotten. Forgotten that he was mid sacrifice and bleeding. It seemed unimportant in the longrun.
"You lost a lot of blood. And you're pretty sick beside that. Which we knew but… but before we couldn't see it."
Dean could feel the lack of nourishment in his own body. His body didn't feel right. Like it didn't belong to him. Like the feeling after someone was possessed. But he knew his mind was his own. It was twisted and confused and hurt. But it was his own. He felt the lack of influence. He felt the connection gone.
While at the castle he had felt good, physically. He hadn't been hungry or tired or sick. But he'd felt the presence in his head. At the time it hadn't bothered him. Now that it was gone… it was weird. His mind was finally his own but his body was failing him. The irony of the life of Dean Winchester.
He looked back down at his bandaged wrist. He could only imagine what was being assumed. "What did the doctors-?"
Despite the many ways that question could be taken, Caleb seemed to understand. "Mac's been your primary physician and he knows what really happened."
"The nurses have to think-"
"So long as someone's with you they won't press it."
Dean felt a sinking in his gut. He was keeping Caleb here. He shouldn't have to sit and babysit him. But because Dean was a stupid idiot he was trapped here in this hospital room. Because it didn't matter what Dean did, Caleb would never let him get dragged to psych. Even if it meant sitting three straight days in the same hospital chair.
He was about to apologize when the thought hit him.
Why had it been just Calleb?
"Where is everyone?"
Caleb shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable with the question. "I convinced Dad to try and catch a few z's. I think he commandeered a cot in the break room."
Dean couldn't stop the smile at the thought of Caleb "convincing" Mac to leave his patient.
"Jim went to pick up Sam, he should be back by now but I haven't gone down to check. They may be waiting for the from Mac."
Or Sam might have simply refused to see Dean. After everything he put his brother through he couldn't blame him. That's all Dean ever did. Hurt those around him. It was a miracle everyone didn't hate him as much as Whiteman had tried to convince him they did.
But there was still one uncalled for person. "And Dad?"
The look on Caleb's face said everything. "He, uh, he was here for most of it. Waited until you were stable. Stayed through the blood transfusion and stuff."
"But?"
"But, I'm not sure exactly where he's at right now. Just said he had some business to take care of."
Dean felt his heart sink. "A hunt?"
Caleb shrugged. "Who knows with him."
There was a hint of bitterness in the older man's voice. Dean wasn't sure how he felt. Did he agree with Caleb's distain or pity his father for having to deal with him at all.
The silence stretched and Dean stopped fighting the urge to close his eyes. The only sound that filled the silence was the steady beeping of machines.
Caleb cleared his throat. "You know I was serious, right?"
"Hm?" Dean was pulled out of the haze between waking and sleeping..
"What I said, about- about leaving. Taking you away from your dad and hunting." There was a hesitation in the voice that caused Dean to open his eyes. In all honesty, he had forgotten about that conversation. "That wasn't just to get you to do it. I would never… do that. I wouldn't lie to you or try to trick you. If you want to leave… we can go. Wherever. Just as soon as you're strong enough, okay?."
The dark feeling and thoughts that had been swirling around in Dean's head momentarily broke. He felt warmth fill his whole body. Part of him knew he should probably only feel more guilty about putting Damien in this position, but it felt so good to hear that he had options, that he could call the shots, that it didn't even register. "I'll let you know." He softly answered.
Dean hadn't seen his dad yet. Or Sam. He didn't know what he wanted to do until he knew how much his family hated him.
A quiet knock at the door caused Dean's breath to catch. He half expected his family to be standing there, judging him and his conversation. John Winchester had always had a flair for the dramatic. And inconvenient when it came to Dean's wants or needs.
But it was Mac.
He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed.
Mac's face lit up as soon as he saw Dean. "Well, it's good to see you awake!"
Dean smiled but he knew it didn't reach his eyes, "I heard you were worried, but I'm pretty sure that was Damien projecting."
The doctor glanced at his son with a smile. "Maybe a little bit of both. How are you feeling?'
"I'm… ok" I twasn't that he was trying to lie. He just didn't know. He couldn't explain how he felt. He wasn't in pain. He was just… Really tired.
"Dean, I need you to answer me honestly.'
"I don't feel bad… I just don't feel… right." He was uncomfortable in his own body. He felt different from the way he had felt the last several weeks- month- he'd been there for a month… he felt different than he had while there but he also felt different than before. He didn't know if the IVs he was attached to made any difference or if he was really just that screwed up.
"That's understandable." Was Mac's answer, spoken with a brand of compassion that almost made Dean uncomfortable. "Do you feel… do you still feel any psychic or emotional connection to the Entetee?"
Hearing the word out loud made panic rise up and threatened to overwhelm him. He heard the heart rate monitor speed up, alerting the others in the room to his lack of control.
Mac glanced up, adjusted something above him, and gave Dean a pat on the shoulder. "It's alright we can talk about it later."
"No-no I'm fine." He was. He had to be. He shouldn't be this pathetic. This was his own fault anyway. "It's just… I know he was bad and everything now. I don't… feel him anymore." And the worst part was that he kind of missed it. As relieving as it was to no longer have another influence in his head, he missed the presence that kept him feeling whole. He looked down at himself. He was so small, so fragile. Any muscle mass he'd had was gone. "Is that why… why I look like this?" He wasn't sure that he wanted to know. He'd made a mess of himself. Of his life. He wondered if maybe he'd screwed it up beyond repair this time.
"It's alright Dean." Mac was quick to reassure. "I understand things still may not feel right. Your body has been weakened, yes, but I do believe it is fixable. I'm hoping that things will go back to normal in a matter of weeks instead of the months it would take if this had been caused naturally."
"So I'm okay? I can leave?"
Mac hesitated, "While I believe the recovery may be less lengthy, it will still take time. Dean, you're still very sick. You were nearly completely comatose for days. You lost a lot of blood. I'm not comfortable with you leaving yet, you just woke up. Let's at least give it a little longer, okay?"
Dean didn't like it but he really didn't feel like arguing. In fact he didn't feel like doing anything. He was exhausted. He hadn't even been awake an hour and he already felt the claws of sleeping pulling him down.
But before he'd allow himself to fall back there he had a question that needed to be answered. "What happened to everyone else?"
"They're all being cared for."
"Here?"
"I believe they were spread to different hospitals to not overwhelm any one. No one was as bad off as you. I'm guessing the psychic link was stronger because you were actively partaking in its sacrifice."
It always amazed Dean how Mac could go from caring to detached so quickly. It was comforting in a way.
"Okay." Was all Dean said.
He caught the look shared between father and son. Mac cleared his throat. "Sam and Jim are in the waiting room. I didn't want to many people crowding but now that you're awake-'
"No it's fine." Dean said quickly. He couldn't explain why, but he didn't want to see them. He didn't want to see anyone. He didn't know what he wanted but there seemed to be only one escape from the overwhelming feelings that were enveloping him. "I think I'm going to sleep now."
Caleb was on his feet in a moment, grabbing Dean's uninjured hand. "But Deuce you just woke up-"
"It's normal to need sleep after this sort of trauma." Mac interrupted with a hand on Caleb's shoulder. "Dean, if you need anything let me know. Any pain or discomfort. I can help now and I want to. Understand?"
Dean nodded, welcoming the pull of sleep.
Trauma. He couldn't deny it. Physically. Emotionally. Psychically.
But he didn't like the word to correlate with him. It felt wrong. Dirty.
He was so tired. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to see anyone. What he really wanted was to be okay again. To feel right again.
He wanted to go back there.
And he knew how wrong it was.
Knew that there was no reason for it.
He had his friends around him and people caring for him and yet-
He didn't know what he wanted. He could figure it out later.
But for now, he would sleep.
~TH~
And so he lives!
It's not over and I will try to get you more sooner rather than later. Hopefully things will slow down? But I'm still the lighting person for another show so we'll just have to see.
Please let me know what you think! I've been in a writing funk so idk how good these chapters are but hopefully they're acceptable.
Much love and God bless,
Jamie
