|| Open Post : Mother, I Made It Up From the Bruise on the Floor ||
Had Dean been forced to describe his time so far at the Mansion, he would have had to admit that it hasn't been bad; he keeps expecting bad things to happen, and they so rarely do. Even the night of the wolf attacks wasn't, on the whole, all that bad - in fact it was damn near normal in the course of a hunter's life, and Dean is no exception to this. Lack of life-threatening situations aside, the elder Winchester has actually met some people he would hazard to call friends, he's startled himself by caring rather more deeply than he thought he could about a very pretty lady, and he hasn't managed to be chased off the property with pitchforks and boiling tar, or hunted down like a murderer and freak. He even thinks, maybe, possibly, a little bit, that he and Sam have been making up a little of the ground they lost, even if it's only the smallest of baby steps imaginable. It's more than before, and Dean hasn't lost the ability to count the most pathetic increments of progress as a win. All of this means that he's made a little bit of progress, too, on his drinking problem habits and the nightmares and cracks that still plague him; but it is none of it enough to come anywhere near calling him healed or cured.
In addition, this time of year has always been hard. He hasn't noticed himself noticing, even though there's a calendar on the wall of the room he shares with his brother; it's just an ingrained habit, an instinct that he doesn't know how to shake. The weather starts to get colder, the leaves start to turn, Halloween comes and goes, and two days later he's staring in the face of the anniversary of the night that changed it all twenty-six years (sixty-six years, a lifetime) ago. He lost his mother in a single, fire-lit night, but it was the years-long, agonizingly slow loss of his father that sunk the date into his bones and left it there even when John has been long buried. Later, this day became more insidious when his brother lost the woman he loved on the same night, in the same way - personalizing Sam's grief for the anniversary did nothing to alleviate Dean's annual depression, sometimes acted upon, sometimes repressed mercilessly and buried beneath work and alcohol and any girl willing to help him pass a night without thinking. This year, he had thought the one small blessing of being wrapped up in all the crap he'd been wrapped up in back in his own world would be that he wouldn't have time to worry about old, partially healed over wounds that he couldn't quite figure out how to close; but now he isn't wrapped up in said crap. Now it's almost peaceful, and there's nothing and no one to run from and fight and rage against, and he has no desire to share his body and his bed with another.
He'd been doing better with his drinking; he doesn't, exactly, set out the morning of November 2 to ruin this streak, but he doesn't notice when the bottle of whiskey finds its way into his hand until several hours later, and even then does not put it down. He can be found wandering the Mansion like if he covers enough ground he might find the respite he's looking for.
[Okay, so. Welcome to the Annual Winchester Emo-Fest; Dean has been mostly behaving himself and we've been annoying everyone in every available and appropriate open post possible, but I can't deny him this one bit of scheduled angst. Feel free to encounter him anywhere in the Mansion or on the grounds, and we'd both be grateful, but warn that he is very, very moody so he might be a bit unpredictable. Also, he is drinking heavily, but he is a legitimate functional alcoholic; it might be difficult to tell until actually interacting with him. Title is from here. Open post is open!]
In addition, this time of year has always been hard. He hasn't noticed himself noticing, even though there's a calendar on the wall of the room he shares with his brother; it's just an ingrained habit, an instinct that he doesn't know how to shake. The weather starts to get colder, the leaves start to turn, Halloween comes and goes, and two days later he's staring in the face of the anniversary of the night that changed it all twenty-six years (sixty-six years, a lifetime) ago. He lost his mother in a single, fire-lit night, but it was the years-long, agonizingly slow loss of his father that sunk the date into his bones and left it there even when John has been long buried. Later, this day became more insidious when his brother lost the woman he loved on the same night, in the same way - personalizing Sam's grief for the anniversary did nothing to alleviate Dean's annual depression, sometimes acted upon, sometimes repressed mercilessly and buried beneath work and alcohol and any girl willing to help him pass a night without thinking. This year, he had thought the one small blessing of being wrapped up in all the crap he'd been wrapped up in back in his own world would be that he wouldn't have time to worry about old, partially healed over wounds that he couldn't quite figure out how to close; but now he isn't wrapped up in said crap. Now it's almost peaceful, and there's nothing and no one to run from and fight and rage against, and he has no desire to share his body and his bed with another.
He'd been doing better with his drinking; he doesn't, exactly, set out the morning of November 2 to ruin this streak, but he doesn't notice when the bottle of whiskey finds its way into his hand until several hours later, and even then does not put it down. He can be found wandering the Mansion like if he covers enough ground he might find the respite he's looking for.
[Okay, so. Welcome to the Annual Winchester Emo-Fest; Dean has been mostly behaving himself and we've been annoying everyone in every available and appropriate open post possible, but I can't deny him this one bit of scheduled angst. Feel free to encounter him anywhere in the Mansion or on the grounds, and we'd both be grateful, but warn that he is very, very moody so he might be a bit unpredictable. Also, he is drinking heavily, but he is a legitimate functional alcoholic; it might be difficult to tell until actually interacting with him. Title is from here. Open post is open!]