Fic: Picking up the Pieces (SPN) Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Four
Dean needed a bottle. He needed a bottle right now. His hands were shaking, mouth watering. He wanted to throw up. God, how could he be so stupid?
"Son?" Bobby tapped on the door, "Why don't you come out and talk about things?"
Dean wiped the sweat off his brow.
"Why don't you tell me what happened?"
He couldn't answer Bobby, couldn't move to let him in, because all his energy had to work to get him to the bathroom.
He leaned over the toilet and threw up the breakfast that had once tasted so good. Now it was bitter, sour, sitting like a lump in his stomach and it had to come out.
He coughed hard, his knees giving out as he slumped against the wall.
Bobby took that as his cue to enter.
"What in hell happened, kid?" Bobby asked, staring down at him.
...
Dean still refused to talk about it. Mostly because he was afraid of saying it out loud and hearing how ridiculous the whole thing had been. So she was studying psychology. So what? It didn't mean anything. It didn't mean she'd chosen to hang out with him because of it. And maybe he was just looking for something. Waiting for something to go wrong. Looking for a reason to run.
Dean, I don't want to talk to you through text but if you won't pick up the phone then I'll have to. I just want to talk to you.
But Dean didn’t want to talk to her. Not right now anyway. And probably not anytime soon. He remembered telling her the reason he’d like her so much.
“You make me forget about all that…”
Now he couldn’t. Now he wouldn’t ever forget about “all that”. All the things that made him screwed up, all the things he’d been through. Because he’d always be thinking that maybe she wanted to know all that, maybe she’d try to analyze all that, maybe she’d try to fix all that. Dean couldn’t be fixed. More importantly he didn’t need to be fixed. He didn’t need anyone’s pity, least of all hers.
“Hey, you ready to eat some lunch?” Bobby asked, sticking his head into Dean’s room.
Dean had been hiding out since he got back. Right now he was laid up in bed, trying in vain to get some sleep he desperately needed. But he couldn’t when his brain wouldn’t quit. Wouldn’t shut up for 5 seconds.
“I’m not that hungry,” he croaked.
“Well, I don’t really care if you’re hungry or not,” Bobby said casually, “Because I’m making you lunch and you’re gonna eat it.”
Dean smiled, “’Kay. Understood.”
“Besides I think you’ve got some pills you gotta take right about now,” Bobby looked at his watch.
Dean nodded, coughing into his fist. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt a jab of pain under his ribs. Just then his phone started ringing again, as it had been incessantly since he’d left Katie’s.
“Here,” Bobby extended his hand, reaching for the phone as Dean continued to choke.
Dean eyed Bobby but handed it to him anyway.
Bobby answered the phone and pressed it to his ear, “Listen, Dean’s resting right now. He’ll call you when he wants to talk to you and no sooner, you got that?”
Dean finally took an uninterrupted breath and swallowed painfully, watching Bobby listen.
“Good,” was all he said before hanging up.
He handed the phone back to Dean and left, calling behind him, “Lunch’ll be ready in 20.”
…
Dean felt the darkness wash over him. He could hear the distant screams of the tortured. Feel the sticky warmth. Smell the decaying bodies, the blood and the entrails. He could taste blood in his mouth, steely, thick and warm. No matter how he shouted, Sam never came. Soon he began to forget what his brother even looked like, that he even had a brother…. and finally he’d forgotten what it was to be human…
“Dean?”
Dean gasped awake, chest heaving, flicking his eyes quickly to where Bobby was standing leaning on the doorframe. He gulped, actively tried to slow down his heart.
“You alright?”
Dean closed his eyes again and wiped the sweat from his forehead, “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”
If Bobby rolled his eyes Dean didn’t see it, but there was a pause before he spoke again.
“Lunch is ready. You wanna come out and eat something?”
“Sure,” Dean said, pushing himself up, powering through the trembling in his arms.
He swung his legs around to get out of bed on the side facing Bobby, but he must have moved too quickly, the change in altitude being too much for his fuzzy head.
“Whoa,” Bobby’s hands are on his shoulders, “Easy, boy. Take it slow.”
Dean sniffed and steeled himself, “I’m good.”
“You sure about that?”
“I said I’m good,” Dean snapped.
…
Sam was getting off work at 5. He’d done a full shift, chest aching from the constant movement, bending and reaching, and wiping tables. Riley had got in an hour ago, taking over for the evening shift.
“Hey, Sam,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder as she walked past.
“Hey, Riley. How are you?”
“I’m good. How’s the day been?”
“Pretty steady actually.”
Riley cocked her hair looking at him, “Are you alright? You look a little beat.”
“Yeah, I’m… I’m alright.”
“Something up with Dean?”
Sam huffed, “Something’s always up with Dean.”
“Hey, speaking off…” she nodded behind Sam and he turned around to see Bobby and Dean ambling through the door. Dean didn’t have his crutches (he’d decided he didn’t need them anymore), but he was walking pretty straight, pretty steady. He had a pale, drawn look about him though. He looked like he’d been sick, and Sam saw him ghost a casual hand across his midsection, confirming suspicions.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Riley smirked as they approached the bar.
Dean met Sam’s eyes and gave him a nod.
“Hey, Riles.”
Sam placed a glass of water in front of Dean, giving him a once over. He looked to Bobby, who sunk heavily into a bar stool and eyed him, a telepathic conversation taking place.
How is he?
Awful. But a pain in the ass as usual.
Tell me about it.
Mmhmm.
Dean took a sip of his water and Sam noticed the slight tremble in his hands.
Riley leaned on the bar, clasping her hands in front of her, “What are you boys up to tonight?”
Bobby sighed, “Had to get the idjit out of the house. He’s been driving me crazy all afternoon,” he grunted.
Dean narrowed his eyes in Bobby’s direction and smirked.
“Causing trouble, is he?” Riley chuckled.
“I’d like to cause some trouble with you, sweetheart,” Dean winked.
“Okay, that I didn’t need to hear,” Sam cringed.
…
Sam, Dean and Bobby all hung out at the bar and had dinner. Dean didn’t eat much, but his mood had perked up and he even mapped out a hit for hustling pool. Even though his hands had shaken every time he’d raised a glass to his mouth, watching him play pool he’d never been steadier. He’d come back to the table an hour later, $500 burning a hole in his pocket. Bobby called it a night and went home, leaving just the brothers. Sam could tell Dean was a little worn around the edges though, so he didn’t stop him when he said he’d needed to get some air.
…
“Hey, asshole!”
Dean turned.
Crap.
“Look, man, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Really? I didn’t want any trouble either… until you took all my money.”
Dean sighed, rolling his eyes, “You want the money? You can have it.”
“Nah, you see you made me look stupid in front of my girl… I can’t have that.”
The man took a few steps towards Dean and Dean winced as he stepped back, pain rocketing up his spine.
“And you can drop the “wounded vet” act. I know you only did it to hustle me.”
Dean took a heavy breath in, “Dude, seriously, it’s not an act.”
Dean would have turned around and lifted his shirt to show the guy his scar but the guy had already swung a right hook, landing right on Dean’s jaw. It was sloppy. The guy’s form was terrible. Dean could bring him down in an instant. Dean knew how to handle guys like this. He wasn’t even as big as him. But he couldn’t take him down. Not today.
Dean reeled back, stumbling sideways and pressing his hands into the brick wall to keep standing. The punch rattled his entire body.
“Please, man. I’m not kidding… my back -“
The guy advanced and punched Dean in the left side, under his ribs.
Dean groaned, fisting his hand in his hair.
“Hey!”
Dean sighed. He didn’t have to turn to know who that was, and to know he was okay now.
“What the hell’s going on out here !?”
“Nothing, man, just -“
Dean heard scuffling, turned slightly to see Sam standing over the guy who was flat on his back in the road, bleeding from his lip.
“You beating on a guy with a broken back!?”
“I didn’t know he -“
“Don’t you ever come here again or so help me God I will kill you myself!” Sam stamped down on the guy’s chest, “Do you understand!?”
“Yes, yes, okay!”
Dean looked back at the wall as the guy scrambled away from his giant machine of a brother.
“Sam,” his voiced came out stuttering, as steady as he tried to keep it, layered with pain, weak and desperate.
“Dean, oh my god…” Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and he flinched, “Okay, okay…”
Dean stumbled backwards but managed to keep his footing. Sam grabbed his arm and ducked under his shoulder. Dean leaned on him more than he should have and Sam struggled under his weight, not prepared for it.
“Easy, man.”
Sam walked Dean inside through the back door to the kitchen.
“Riley!” he called, coming through, trying to find a place to put Dean.
Jim was out the back and Sam lifted his chin at him, “Get Riley.”
Jim’s eyes widened at them both and left the kitchen in a hurry.
Dean moaned and clenched his eyes shut.
“Okay, you’re okay. Let’s sit down. How bad is it?”
Dean kept his eyes closed and tried to catalogue the damage. His face and head throbbed, but the punch to the side had done more damage.
“Oh my God, what the hell happened?” Riley was beside Dean before he could even open his eyes to look at her. She pulled his other arm over her shoulders, taking more of his weight off his feet, which he was incredibly grateful for.
“That jackass Dean hustled,” was all Sam offered as an explanation.
Dean groaned, and Sam adjusted his hold on him.
“Come on, let’s sit him down.”
“No,” Dean choked out, “I think… I gotta lie down.”
“Dean, there’s no where -“
“He can lie down in a booth. The seats are wide enough.”
“Yeah but not long enough. His legs can’t hang, it’s bad for his back.”
“Guys,” Dean interrupted.
“Alright, booth it is,” Sam said, and they started walking again.
The bar was closed now, only a few people hanging about. Dean crumpled halfway to the table. Sam shifted to take more of his brother’s weight.
“Come on, man. Little further.”
“Gonne be sick,” he mumbled.
Riley barked orders and Jim came over with a champagne bucket. Dean took his arm off Riley and clutched the bucket to his chest, expelling his dinner.
“Alright. You’re okay,” Sam muttered next to him.
Riley and Jim pulled the table away from the booth bench so they could fit Dean in, and slid a chair against the end of it so Dean could put his legs up.
“Ah, crap,” Dean winced, back spasming as Sam lowered him down.
“Sorry,” Sam grunted, “Deep breaths.”
Dean couldn’t take deep breaths though, because if he did that he’d start coughing and that would be the worst thing to happen right now.
Sam’s chilly fingers pulled Dean’s shirt up to assess the damage to his side.
“Okay, it’s not that bad, Dean. It’s not that bad.”
Riley appeared next to him with ice wrapped in a tea towel, pressing it to his jaw.
“It just… It jolted me,” Dean said, breathlessly.
Sam scrunched his face in concern, “Do you think it’s…”
Dean could tell what Sam wanted to know. Did he think it had damaged his spine. Did he think it had moved the herniated disc. Did he think the bones had shifted. The panic and worry was written all over Sam’s face.
“No,” Dean croaked, “No… it’s probably nothing,” he added a tight smile just to reassure him.
Riley’s hand was in his hair.
“Sam,” she sighed, “he’s got a fever.”
“Dean, do you think we should go to the hospital?”
“You’re gonna have to knock me out for real if you want to take me there,” Dean groaned.
Sam huffed, “Okay, man. We’ll deal with it.”
Dean closed his eyes, relief washing over him. He didn’t want to go back to hospital. Because if he went back they wouldn’t just let him out straight away.
“Dean?” Riley ruffled her hand in his hair, giving his scalp a little scratch with her fingers.
He opened his eyes, “I’m okay.”
Sam had a hand on Dean’s chest, “What do you need?”
Dean smiled, closing his eyes again, “I guess a painkiller… and a valium… and a new spine.”
Sam actually laughed, "I'll do my best, brother."
…
Dean needed a bottle. He needed a bottle right now. His hands were shaking, mouth watering. He wanted to throw up. God, how could he be so stupid?
"Son?" Bobby tapped on the door, "Why don't you come out and talk about things?"
Dean wiped the sweat off his brow.
"Why don't you tell me what happened?"
He couldn't answer Bobby, couldn't move to let him in, because all his energy had to work to get him to the bathroom.
He leaned over the toilet and threw up the breakfast that had once tasted so good. Now it was bitter, sour, sitting like a lump in his stomach and it had to come out.
He coughed hard, his knees giving out as he slumped against the wall.
Bobby took that as his cue to enter.
"What in hell happened, kid?" Bobby asked, staring down at him.
...
Dean still refused to talk about it. Mostly because he was afraid of saying it out loud and hearing how ridiculous the whole thing had been. So she was studying psychology. So what? It didn't mean anything. It didn't mean she'd chosen to hang out with him because of it. And maybe he was just looking for something. Waiting for something to go wrong. Looking for a reason to run.
Dean, I don't want to talk to you through text but if you won't pick up the phone then I'll have to. I just want to talk to you.
But Dean didn’t want to talk to her. Not right now anyway. And probably not anytime soon. He remembered telling her the reason he’d like her so much.
“You make me forget about all that…”
Now he couldn’t. Now he wouldn’t ever forget about “all that”. All the things that made him screwed up, all the things he’d been through. Because he’d always be thinking that maybe she wanted to know all that, maybe she’d try to analyze all that, maybe she’d try to fix all that. Dean couldn’t be fixed. More importantly he didn’t need to be fixed. He didn’t need anyone’s pity, least of all hers.
“Hey, you ready to eat some lunch?” Bobby asked, sticking his head into Dean’s room.
Dean had been hiding out since he got back. Right now he was laid up in bed, trying in vain to get some sleep he desperately needed. But he couldn’t when his brain wouldn’t quit. Wouldn’t shut up for 5 seconds.
“I’m not that hungry,” he croaked.
“Well, I don’t really care if you’re hungry or not,” Bobby said casually, “Because I’m making you lunch and you’re gonna eat it.”
Dean smiled, “’Kay. Understood.”
“Besides I think you’ve got some pills you gotta take right about now,” Bobby looked at his watch.
Dean nodded, coughing into his fist. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt a jab of pain under his ribs. Just then his phone started ringing again, as it had been incessantly since he’d left Katie’s.
“Here,” Bobby extended his hand, reaching for the phone as Dean continued to choke.
Dean eyed Bobby but handed it to him anyway.
Bobby answered the phone and pressed it to his ear, “Listen, Dean’s resting right now. He’ll call you when he wants to talk to you and no sooner, you got that?”
Dean finally took an uninterrupted breath and swallowed painfully, watching Bobby listen.
“Good,” was all he said before hanging up.
He handed the phone back to Dean and left, calling behind him, “Lunch’ll be ready in 20.”
…
Dean felt the darkness wash over him. He could hear the distant screams of the tortured. Feel the sticky warmth. Smell the decaying bodies, the blood and the entrails. He could taste blood in his mouth, steely, thick and warm. No matter how he shouted, Sam never came. Soon he began to forget what his brother even looked like, that he even had a brother…. and finally he’d forgotten what it was to be human…
“Dean?”
Dean gasped awake, chest heaving, flicking his eyes quickly to where Bobby was standing leaning on the doorframe. He gulped, actively tried to slow down his heart.
“You alright?”
Dean closed his eyes again and wiped the sweat from his forehead, “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”
If Bobby rolled his eyes Dean didn’t see it, but there was a pause before he spoke again.
“Lunch is ready. You wanna come out and eat something?”
“Sure,” Dean said, pushing himself up, powering through the trembling in his arms.
He swung his legs around to get out of bed on the side facing Bobby, but he must have moved too quickly, the change in altitude being too much for his fuzzy head.
“Whoa,” Bobby’s hands are on his shoulders, “Easy, boy. Take it slow.”
Dean sniffed and steeled himself, “I’m good.”
“You sure about that?”
“I said I’m good,” Dean snapped.
…
Sam was getting off work at 5. He’d done a full shift, chest aching from the constant movement, bending and reaching, and wiping tables. Riley had got in an hour ago, taking over for the evening shift.
“Hey, Sam,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder as she walked past.
“Hey, Riley. How are you?”
“I’m good. How’s the day been?”
“Pretty steady actually.”
Riley cocked her hair looking at him, “Are you alright? You look a little beat.”
“Yeah, I’m… I’m alright.”
“Something up with Dean?”
Sam huffed, “Something’s always up with Dean.”
“Hey, speaking off…” she nodded behind Sam and he turned around to see Bobby and Dean ambling through the door. Dean didn’t have his crutches (he’d decided he didn’t need them anymore), but he was walking pretty straight, pretty steady. He had a pale, drawn look about him though. He looked like he’d been sick, and Sam saw him ghost a casual hand across his midsection, confirming suspicions.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Riley smirked as they approached the bar.
Dean met Sam’s eyes and gave him a nod.
“Hey, Riles.”
Sam placed a glass of water in front of Dean, giving him a once over. He looked to Bobby, who sunk heavily into a bar stool and eyed him, a telepathic conversation taking place.
How is he?
Awful. But a pain in the ass as usual.
Tell me about it.
Mmhmm.
Dean took a sip of his water and Sam noticed the slight tremble in his hands.
Riley leaned on the bar, clasping her hands in front of her, “What are you boys up to tonight?”
Bobby sighed, “Had to get the idjit out of the house. He’s been driving me crazy all afternoon,” he grunted.
Dean narrowed his eyes in Bobby’s direction and smirked.
“Causing trouble, is he?” Riley chuckled.
“I’d like to cause some trouble with you, sweetheart,” Dean winked.
“Okay, that I didn’t need to hear,” Sam cringed.
…
Sam, Dean and Bobby all hung out at the bar and had dinner. Dean didn’t eat much, but his mood had perked up and he even mapped out a hit for hustling pool. Even though his hands had shaken every time he’d raised a glass to his mouth, watching him play pool he’d never been steadier. He’d come back to the table an hour later, $500 burning a hole in his pocket. Bobby called it a night and went home, leaving just the brothers. Sam could tell Dean was a little worn around the edges though, so he didn’t stop him when he said he’d needed to get some air.
…
“Hey, asshole!”
Dean turned.
Crap.
“Look, man, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Really? I didn’t want any trouble either… until you took all my money.”
Dean sighed, rolling his eyes, “You want the money? You can have it.”
“Nah, you see you made me look stupid in front of my girl… I can’t have that.”
The man took a few steps towards Dean and Dean winced as he stepped back, pain rocketing up his spine.
“And you can drop the “wounded vet” act. I know you only did it to hustle me.”
Dean took a heavy breath in, “Dude, seriously, it’s not an act.”
Dean would have turned around and lifted his shirt to show the guy his scar but the guy had already swung a right hook, landing right on Dean’s jaw. It was sloppy. The guy’s form was terrible. Dean could bring him down in an instant. Dean knew how to handle guys like this. He wasn’t even as big as him. But he couldn’t take him down. Not today.
Dean reeled back, stumbling sideways and pressing his hands into the brick wall to keep standing. The punch rattled his entire body.
“Please, man. I’m not kidding… my back -“
The guy advanced and punched Dean in the left side, under his ribs.
Dean groaned, fisting his hand in his hair.
“Hey!”
Dean sighed. He didn’t have to turn to know who that was, and to know he was okay now.
“What the hell’s going on out here !?”
“Nothing, man, just -“
Dean heard scuffling, turned slightly to see Sam standing over the guy who was flat on his back in the road, bleeding from his lip.
“You beating on a guy with a broken back!?”
“I didn’t know he -“
“Don’t you ever come here again or so help me God I will kill you myself!” Sam stamped down on the guy’s chest, “Do you understand!?”
“Yes, yes, okay!”
Dean looked back at the wall as the guy scrambled away from his giant machine of a brother.
“Sam,” his voiced came out stuttering, as steady as he tried to keep it, layered with pain, weak and desperate.
“Dean, oh my god…” Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and he flinched, “Okay, okay…”
Dean stumbled backwards but managed to keep his footing. Sam grabbed his arm and ducked under his shoulder. Dean leaned on him more than he should have and Sam struggled under his weight, not prepared for it.
“Easy, man.”
Sam walked Dean inside through the back door to the kitchen.
“Riley!” he called, coming through, trying to find a place to put Dean.
Jim was out the back and Sam lifted his chin at him, “Get Riley.”
Jim’s eyes widened at them both and left the kitchen in a hurry.
Dean moaned and clenched his eyes shut.
“Okay, you’re okay. Let’s sit down. How bad is it?”
Dean kept his eyes closed and tried to catalogue the damage. His face and head throbbed, but the punch to the side had done more damage.
“Oh my God, what the hell happened?” Riley was beside Dean before he could even open his eyes to look at her. She pulled his other arm over her shoulders, taking more of his weight off his feet, which he was incredibly grateful for.
“That jackass Dean hustled,” was all Sam offered as an explanation.
Dean groaned, and Sam adjusted his hold on him.
“Come on, let’s sit him down.”
“No,” Dean choked out, “I think… I gotta lie down.”
“Dean, there’s no where -“
“He can lie down in a booth. The seats are wide enough.”
“Yeah but not long enough. His legs can’t hang, it’s bad for his back.”
“Guys,” Dean interrupted.
“Alright, booth it is,” Sam said, and they started walking again.
The bar was closed now, only a few people hanging about. Dean crumpled halfway to the table. Sam shifted to take more of his brother’s weight.
“Come on, man. Little further.”
“Gonne be sick,” he mumbled.
Riley barked orders and Jim came over with a champagne bucket. Dean took his arm off Riley and clutched the bucket to his chest, expelling his dinner.
“Alright. You’re okay,” Sam muttered next to him.
Riley and Jim pulled the table away from the booth bench so they could fit Dean in, and slid a chair against the end of it so Dean could put his legs up.
“Ah, crap,” Dean winced, back spasming as Sam lowered him down.
“Sorry,” Sam grunted, “Deep breaths.”
Dean couldn’t take deep breaths though, because if he did that he’d start coughing and that would be the worst thing to happen right now.
Sam’s chilly fingers pulled Dean’s shirt up to assess the damage to his side.
“Okay, it’s not that bad, Dean. It’s not that bad.”
Riley appeared next to him with ice wrapped in a tea towel, pressing it to his jaw.
“It just… It jolted me,” Dean said, breathlessly.
Sam scrunched his face in concern, “Do you think it’s…”
Dean could tell what Sam wanted to know. Did he think it had damaged his spine. Did he think it had moved the herniated disc. Did he think the bones had shifted. The panic and worry was written all over Sam’s face.
“No,” Dean croaked, “No… it’s probably nothing,” he added a tight smile just to reassure him.
Riley’s hand was in his hair.
“Sam,” she sighed, “he’s got a fever.”
“Dean, do you think we should go to the hospital?”
“You’re gonna have to knock me out for real if you want to take me there,” Dean groaned.
Sam huffed, “Okay, man. We’ll deal with it.”
Dean closed his eyes, relief washing over him. He didn’t want to go back to hospital. Because if he went back they wouldn’t just let him out straight away.
“Dean?” Riley ruffled her hand in his hair, giving his scalp a little scratch with her fingers.
He opened his eyes, “I’m okay.”
Sam had a hand on Dean’s chest, “What do you need?”
Dean smiled, closing his eyes again, “I guess a painkiller… and a valium… and a new spine.”
Sam actually laughed, "I'll do my best, brother."
…