Fic: Taking Some Time (SPN) Chapter Twenty-One of Twenty-One
Genre: Sick!fic, Epic, Slightly AU
Category: Gen
Rating: T
Characters: Dean, Sam, Bobby
Warning: Very mild language. Descriptions of Hell. Can be considered slightly AU as Dean is not healed from his old wounds when Castiel raised him from perdition. Angst.
Disclaimer: They're pretty, but they're not mine.
Summary: Dean is a little worse off coming off a hunt than he let on. He's fresh from hell and caring a lot of scars, physically and mentally. A bad back, bad shoulder, PTSD, insomnia, alcohol abuse, and a nasty virus to top it all off. Maybe the boys need to take a break and try to get Dean back on track. It might be harder than they thought.
A/N: Okay... Now I don't know how this happened, but this is the last chapter.
The ending snuck up on me, but as I was writing it, it just felt like the most natural thing. So, I'm going to say, this chapter will be the last in this fic...
HOWEVER! I have written so much more! Set maybe a little bit later... I have plans... I have ideas... It's not the end.
There will be a sequel.
You've all been very patient and I want to give you the best so I ask you to give me just a little bit more time to get it right.
You're all amazing. Don't stress, I'll flow onto the sequel virtually straight away
Love x
Chapter Twenty-One
“Dean! You’re not driving home!” Sam shouted, banging his hands on the hood of the impala.
“Neither of you are driving,” Bobby berated, “Dean, get in the back… I’ll get the door.”
Dean stood back and rolled his eyes as Bobby opened the back door for him.
“I feel like a friggen kid.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t get treated like one, if you stopped acting like one,” Sam said, smug in the passenger seat.
Dean sighed and leaned back against the bench seat gingerly.
“Will you idjits shut your damn mouths? We’ve only just stepped out the door and you’re already going at it.”
“Well, if Dean -“
“Oh, grow up, Sam…”
“Both of you!” Bobby turned around to look at Sam, “Sam, cut your brother some slack. And Dean, you ain’t driving this car till that sling comes off, you hear me?”
“But, Bobby, that’ll be weeks!”
“No ‘buts’, son. You ain’t having a car accident on top of everything else.”
Dean stared out the window in angry silence. Okay, so fine, he hadn’t really expected to get to drive home from the hospital but not being able to drive at all? That was the same as putting him on house arrest.
His arm was still numb from the surgery that had occurred only hours before, and now he had an even bigger sling with a stupid pillow thing in between his arm and his chest, but at least it felt snug. They probably would have still been there if he hadn’t hightailed it after that douchebag mental health dude had tried to talk to him. Okay, yeah, sure, maybe he was a little off the rails. Maybe he was so far off the rails he’d lost sight of them all together, but that didn’t give someone the right to dig into his private life, see what was going on in his head. Hell, understanding what Dean had been through would send even the most level headed person howling to the nut house.
“You alright, dude?” Sam said, over his shoulder.
Dean broke out of his faraway stare, glared at his brother, “Peachy.”
…
Dean fell asleep on the way home from the hospital. He was muttering lightly to himself.
“No… no, please… stop…”
Sam glanced at Bobby as he took his eyes off the road to look at him. He knew he should wake him up because it was horrible just to listen to, knowing what horrors he was reliving, but Dean needed sleep. He needed to rest to get back on his feet… and, you know, maybe a new spine, but, one thing at a time.
He gasped and woke when they were a few minutes away, coughing into his fist. That strained, dry, persistent cough.
“Uh, god,” he groaned from the back seat.
“Almost home, man.”
Dean moaned and closed his eyes again.
“Can we, uh, make a stop?”
Sam looked back, “What for?”
“…”
“Dean?”
Dean’s mouth quirked, his chest heaved with a sigh. He did that thing where his mouth moved before he spoke, like he was trying to figure out the words.
“I need something…”
Something. Dean needed something.
“Booze, right?” Sam’s eyebrow went up, and he twisted more in his seat to face his brother.
Dean licked his lips and swallowed.
“Man, I know it’s hard. I know you’re going through a lot, but you gotta find something else to get you through. You’re killing yourself.”
Dean blinked and Sam looked closer, noticed his brother’s eyes had reddened and turned glassy, looking anywhere but at Sam’s face.
“Please, Sam,” was all he said.
And, geez, Sam would have given him the world right then if he could. He would have done anything to take Dean’s pain away. But for now, he’d have to settle.
“Make the stop, Bobby.”
…
Sam hated himself for giving in. After Dean had gone through the withdrawal and been so sick. When he was still healing from his chest infection, shoulder only recently been pinned back together, inflammation raging in his back. Alcohol was the last thing he needed. But, dammit, Sam didn’t know what to do. Dean was miserable. Frightened. And if the alcohol helped him forget, helped him get to sleep, numbed the pain a little, then who was he to say no?
Dean took a generous swig from the backseat, hissing a little at the burn. Sam ignored how Dean’s hand shook as he grabbed the bottle from him, like his body was coursing with adrenaline just by knowing what he was about to get. Sam would let him drink. But he would monitor it, make sure Dean didn’t go too far.
“Better?” Sam said, a little of the bitterness slipping out in the word.
Dean opened his eyes, looked guilty and ashamed. He didn’t answer and just turned to look out the window.
Bobby had remained silent through the whole exchange, knowing it was a touchy subject. There were some things that were better just shared among the boys.
…
“I think there’s a game on,” Sam said, flicking the TV on a sitting down next to Dean.
Dean’s painkillers were in full effect, and for a nice change he was sitting up on the couch, feet crossed on the coffee table, beer in his hand. He looked like he’d gone ten rounds with a wendigo… and lost. But he seemed happier, maybe even, dare say it, content. Sam wondered how much of that was the alcohols doing.
Sam didn’t want to count his blessing but for a moment, while the three of them sat there, watching the game, laughing, chatting, together. A family. Sam took a breath in and savoured it, because this was what it was all about. Dean, Sam, Bobby, together. As it should be. No ghosts, no monsters, no angels or demons, or the damn apocalypse. And in that moment Sam decided he would. He would give it all up for this.
…
Three Weeks Later
Dean sipped his beer and watched the sun disappear behind the house across the street. Bobby had left a few days ago to go hunt a chupacarba or something. Dean didn’t ask. For the first time he wasn’t interested in that. It felt weird, stifling. For a long time Dean had known exactly who he was.
A good soldier, and nothing else.
But since this all started, since he got sick, since the pain had become all consuming, since the angels had given up on him, he had to face the reality that maybe he had changed. And maybe he wanted more. Maybe he did, dammit. But that didn't mean that after the things he'd done he deserved it. Those souls he tortured didn't get to walk away, why should he? Why should he get to move on, find a home, kick up his feet and drink a beer on a Sunday night, watching the game and eating wings and talking smack with his little brother? Why should he get to sit in a chair on the porch watching the sunset... every sunset... over and over, every day, never ending, when there were no sunsets in hell... no end of the day, no end of the torture. It just kept on and on and on...
"Dean?"
"Hm?"
"Are you gonna come inside?"
Dean cleared his throat, paused, "In a minute, Sam."
"I made burgers for dinner. Do you want me to keep yours warm for you?"
Dean turned to face Sam, fixing his mask in place. Push it down. He smiled, "Why didn't you lead with burgers, man?"
He got up out of the chair and didn't wince, didn't moan, didn't cry... Push it down.
"You put extra onion on it, right?"
The End
Stay tuned for the sequel.
Category: Gen
Rating: T
Characters: Dean, Sam, Bobby
Warning: Very mild language. Descriptions of Hell. Can be considered slightly AU as Dean is not healed from his old wounds when Castiel raised him from perdition. Angst.
Disclaimer: They're pretty, but they're not mine.
Summary: Dean is a little worse off coming off a hunt than he let on. He's fresh from hell and caring a lot of scars, physically and mentally. A bad back, bad shoulder, PTSD, insomnia, alcohol abuse, and a nasty virus to top it all off. Maybe the boys need to take a break and try to get Dean back on track. It might be harder than they thought.
A/N: Okay... Now I don't know how this happened, but this is the last chapter.
The ending snuck up on me, but as I was writing it, it just felt like the most natural thing. So, I'm going to say, this chapter will be the last in this fic...
HOWEVER! I have written so much more! Set maybe a little bit later... I have plans... I have ideas... It's not the end.
There will be a sequel.
You've all been very patient and I want to give you the best so I ask you to give me just a little bit more time to get it right.
You're all amazing. Don't stress, I'll flow onto the sequel virtually straight away
Love x
Chapter Twenty-One
“Dean! You’re not driving home!” Sam shouted, banging his hands on the hood of the impala.
“Neither of you are driving,” Bobby berated, “Dean, get in the back… I’ll get the door.”
Dean stood back and rolled his eyes as Bobby opened the back door for him.
“I feel like a friggen kid.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t get treated like one, if you stopped acting like one,” Sam said, smug in the passenger seat.
Dean sighed and leaned back against the bench seat gingerly.
“Will you idjits shut your damn mouths? We’ve only just stepped out the door and you’re already going at it.”
“Well, if Dean -“
“Oh, grow up, Sam…”
“Both of you!” Bobby turned around to look at Sam, “Sam, cut your brother some slack. And Dean, you ain’t driving this car till that sling comes off, you hear me?”
“But, Bobby, that’ll be weeks!”
“No ‘buts’, son. You ain’t having a car accident on top of everything else.”
Dean stared out the window in angry silence. Okay, so fine, he hadn’t really expected to get to drive home from the hospital but not being able to drive at all? That was the same as putting him on house arrest.
His arm was still numb from the surgery that had occurred only hours before, and now he had an even bigger sling with a stupid pillow thing in between his arm and his chest, but at least it felt snug. They probably would have still been there if he hadn’t hightailed it after that douchebag mental health dude had tried to talk to him. Okay, yeah, sure, maybe he was a little off the rails. Maybe he was so far off the rails he’d lost sight of them all together, but that didn’t give someone the right to dig into his private life, see what was going on in his head. Hell, understanding what Dean had been through would send even the most level headed person howling to the nut house.
“You alright, dude?” Sam said, over his shoulder.
Dean broke out of his faraway stare, glared at his brother, “Peachy.”
…
Dean fell asleep on the way home from the hospital. He was muttering lightly to himself.
“No… no, please… stop…”
Sam glanced at Bobby as he took his eyes off the road to look at him. He knew he should wake him up because it was horrible just to listen to, knowing what horrors he was reliving, but Dean needed sleep. He needed to rest to get back on his feet… and, you know, maybe a new spine, but, one thing at a time.
He gasped and woke when they were a few minutes away, coughing into his fist. That strained, dry, persistent cough.
“Uh, god,” he groaned from the back seat.
“Almost home, man.”
Dean moaned and closed his eyes again.
“Can we, uh, make a stop?”
Sam looked back, “What for?”
“…”
“Dean?”
Dean’s mouth quirked, his chest heaved with a sigh. He did that thing where his mouth moved before he spoke, like he was trying to figure out the words.
“I need something…”
Something. Dean needed something.
“Booze, right?” Sam’s eyebrow went up, and he twisted more in his seat to face his brother.
Dean licked his lips and swallowed.
“Man, I know it’s hard. I know you’re going through a lot, but you gotta find something else to get you through. You’re killing yourself.”
Dean blinked and Sam looked closer, noticed his brother’s eyes had reddened and turned glassy, looking anywhere but at Sam’s face.
“Please, Sam,” was all he said.
And, geez, Sam would have given him the world right then if he could. He would have done anything to take Dean’s pain away. But for now, he’d have to settle.
“Make the stop, Bobby.”
…
Sam hated himself for giving in. After Dean had gone through the withdrawal and been so sick. When he was still healing from his chest infection, shoulder only recently been pinned back together, inflammation raging in his back. Alcohol was the last thing he needed. But, dammit, Sam didn’t know what to do. Dean was miserable. Frightened. And if the alcohol helped him forget, helped him get to sleep, numbed the pain a little, then who was he to say no?
Dean took a generous swig from the backseat, hissing a little at the burn. Sam ignored how Dean’s hand shook as he grabbed the bottle from him, like his body was coursing with adrenaline just by knowing what he was about to get. Sam would let him drink. But he would monitor it, make sure Dean didn’t go too far.
“Better?” Sam said, a little of the bitterness slipping out in the word.
Dean opened his eyes, looked guilty and ashamed. He didn’t answer and just turned to look out the window.
Bobby had remained silent through the whole exchange, knowing it was a touchy subject. There were some things that were better just shared among the boys.
…
“I think there’s a game on,” Sam said, flicking the TV on a sitting down next to Dean.
Dean’s painkillers were in full effect, and for a nice change he was sitting up on the couch, feet crossed on the coffee table, beer in his hand. He looked like he’d gone ten rounds with a wendigo… and lost. But he seemed happier, maybe even, dare say it, content. Sam wondered how much of that was the alcohols doing.
Sam didn’t want to count his blessing but for a moment, while the three of them sat there, watching the game, laughing, chatting, together. A family. Sam took a breath in and savoured it, because this was what it was all about. Dean, Sam, Bobby, together. As it should be. No ghosts, no monsters, no angels or demons, or the damn apocalypse. And in that moment Sam decided he would. He would give it all up for this.
…
Three Weeks Later
Dean sipped his beer and watched the sun disappear behind the house across the street. Bobby had left a few days ago to go hunt a chupacarba or something. Dean didn’t ask. For the first time he wasn’t interested in that. It felt weird, stifling. For a long time Dean had known exactly who he was.
A good soldier, and nothing else.
But since this all started, since he got sick, since the pain had become all consuming, since the angels had given up on him, he had to face the reality that maybe he had changed. And maybe he wanted more. Maybe he did, dammit. But that didn't mean that after the things he'd done he deserved it. Those souls he tortured didn't get to walk away, why should he? Why should he get to move on, find a home, kick up his feet and drink a beer on a Sunday night, watching the game and eating wings and talking smack with his little brother? Why should he get to sit in a chair on the porch watching the sunset... every sunset... over and over, every day, never ending, when there were no sunsets in hell... no end of the day, no end of the torture. It just kept on and on and on...
"Dean?"
"Hm?"
"Are you gonna come inside?"
Dean cleared his throat, paused, "In a minute, Sam."
"I made burgers for dinner. Do you want me to keep yours warm for you?"
Dean turned to face Sam, fixing his mask in place. Push it down. He smiled, "Why didn't you lead with burgers, man?"
He got up out of the chair and didn't wince, didn't moan, didn't cry... Push it down.
"You put extra onion on it, right?"
The End
Stay tuned for the sequel.