& getting back in the groove
title: how deep the bullet lies
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don’t own em
rating: teen
warnings: slight SPOILERS for 5x14
character(s): Dean
word count: 246
notes: sorta tag set before the last scene. title from Placebo.
The trip to Bobby’s is too long. Not just for Sam, who writhes and pants in the backseat. Begs for Dean to turn around, go back, please. No, Sam isn’t the only one with poison running through his veins this time.
Sam has no idea. ‘Something wrong with him’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Dean turns up the radio, keeps his eyes on the road. Tries not to think. He grips the steering wheel with white knuckles. The bones of his fingers ache, but he can’t seem to let go.
Demons lie; it’s one of the first things he ever learned about them. Except a lot of the time, in Dean’s experience, they don’t. Not to him.
Horsemen don’t either.
There’s nothing to gain from it. Demons deal in pain, and Dean figured out a while ago that while lies might hurt other people, for him, it’s the truth that does the most damage. Especially the ones he already carries, like lead weights fastened to his heart - poisonous and too heavy to carry for long.
Famine didn’t tell him anything new, but that was the point. Dean got so good at covering up the deep, dark hole inside of him, that he made himself believe he could live with it. Kept up a litany of deny, deny, deny even when he was falling apart where everyone (Sam) could see.
Dean’s been too fucking scared to look for himself. Now he doesn’t have a choice.
- end
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don’t own em
rating: teen
warnings: slight SPOILERS for 5x14
character(s): Dean
word count: 246
notes: sorta tag set before the last scene. title from Placebo.
The trip to Bobby’s is too long. Not just for Sam, who writhes and pants in the backseat. Begs for Dean to turn around, go back, please. No, Sam isn’t the only one with poison running through his veins this time.
Sam has no idea. ‘Something wrong with him’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Dean turns up the radio, keeps his eyes on the road. Tries not to think. He grips the steering wheel with white knuckles. The bones of his fingers ache, but he can’t seem to let go.
Demons lie; it’s one of the first things he ever learned about them. Except a lot of the time, in Dean’s experience, they don’t. Not to him.
Horsemen don’t either.
There’s nothing to gain from it. Demons deal in pain, and Dean figured out a while ago that while lies might hurt other people, for him, it’s the truth that does the most damage. Especially the ones he already carries, like lead weights fastened to his heart - poisonous and too heavy to carry for long.
Famine didn’t tell him anything new, but that was the point. Dean got so good at covering up the deep, dark hole inside of him, that he made himself believe he could live with it. Kept up a litany of deny, deny, deny even when he was falling apart where everyone (Sam) could see.
Dean’s been too fucking scared to look for himself. Now he doesn’t have a choice.
- end