SPN FIC: A Shameful Admission
Story Disclaimer: I own nothing but the way the words fit together. Supernatural and its characters belong to The CW, Kripke, etc.
Title: A Shameful Admission
Author: enviousxbeauty
Word Count: 1,657
Time Line: Season 4, Episode 16 - 21
Rating: T
Characters: Dean W. // Sam W. // Mentions of Castiel
Warnings: Language, Alcohol Use, Implied Drug Use
Spoilers: Thru Season 4
Summary: Dean makes a drunken confession.
{Originally Tell Me All I Need to Know -- Posted May 7th 2012}
{Revised and Renamed A Shameful Admission -- Posted November 6th 2016}
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“I fought him.” Dean blurts out of nowhere as he and Sam sit in some nameless motel room, nothing but the glow of the television and the rattle of the heater keeping them company.
Sam sits up a bit straighter, tired and confused, not quite understanding what his brother is talking about.
“Fought who, Dean?”
Sam’s pretty sure it’s the patronizing tone he spits out that makes Dean angry.
“Forget it, Sam. It’s not like you give a damn. What the hell was I thinking?”
Sam tenses at Dean’s sudden mood swing even if he knows it’s his own fault. Since he admitted what really happened down in the pit, Dean’s been mostly docile, afraid of upsetting the balance between the two and Sam honestly has no idea what’s suddenly gotten into Dean. Glancing at his brother, Sam clears his throat and asks again.
“Just tell me, Dean. I want to know. Who’d you fight?”
Dean’s overly quiet for a few minutes as if he has to contemplate the answer. Sam’s eyes flicker to the amber liquid between the two beds and he mentally sighs. Confessions never happen when a Winchester is sober.
It’s nearly ten minutes later when Dean finally makes his reply, jarring Sam from the semi-conscious state he’d slipped into while Dean took his time coming up with something to say.
“What?” Sam asks too loud and too harsh, but Dean’s words had been no more than a whisper and Sam may have missed his only chance to learn what goes on during his own scandalous outings with Ruby or even worse… something that had happened while he’d been at college so long ago. If that’s the case, then Sam really doesn’t want to hear what Dean has to say after all because then they’d just be back at square one. The exact same place they were four years ago and Sam can’t handle that. He’s tired of trying.
Dean licks his lips and his eyes dart around the room as if he’s afraid someone might be listening- might run off and tell the world his secret. He clears his throat and focuses on Sam. “Cas… I fought Cas.”
Sam is still at a loss and does his best to remember any and all of their encounters with the angel, which have been surprisingly few for the youngest Winchester. The only incident that comes to mind involves torturing Alastair… when those holy pricks - Who said anything about asking? - forced Dean to comply. Putting two and two together, Sam’s pretty sure he’s got four, so he sits up all the way and swings his legs off the bed, placing his feet onto the floor. He easily reaches out and taps Dean, trying to get the older brother’s attention.
“I know you fought Cas, Dean. He should have never made you go head to head with Alastair. It’s over n-”
Anything else Sam may have wanted to say is cut off by Dean’s sudden need to lurch off the bed. He’s wide-eyed and hurt looking and Sam is finding it almost impossible to follow Dean’s manic actions.
“I’m not talking about that, Sam.”
And Sam feels like the biggest idiot, when he realizes he added two plus two and somewhere along the way got five. Gently, Sam scoots forward so that when Dean sits back down both brothers’ knees are just barely touching. It’s a small gesture on Sam’s part, but he hopes Dean can understand what he’s trying to do. Again they sit in silence, waiting on Dean to get his thoughts together so he can form some sort of coherent sentence to finally fill Sam in on just what the hell the man is talking about. Sam’s patience wanes after a mere five minutes. Doing his best not to snap, Sam runs a hand over his face, mumbling behind it.
“Dean…” The patronizing tone is back and Sam tries to find the right way to ask Dean what he’s talking about. The correct way that will result in some actual answers, and not some ludicrous ramblings of a drunkard. “What did you and Cas fight about?”
The statement seems to trigger… something… at least. Though, as a deep shade of red creeps up the sides of Dean’s neck and across his cheek bones, Sam realizes it wasn’t quite the reaction he was expecting. Dean seems more coherent than ever when he looks Sam directly in the eyes, unshed tears shimmering in the low light of the TV. There’s a small pause, then a shaky intake of breath, and the next thing Sam knows, Dean is hunched over, puking his guts onto the dark green carpet, and making a noise that sounds eerily close to a choked off sob.
“Jesus!” Sam gasps as he narrowly avoids chunks of unchewed hamburger as it splatters onto the floor. With a disgusted shudder, Sam starts to rise, looking for something to clean up the mess, but Dean’s hand shoots out and grips Sam’s wrist tightly. The brothers lock eyes like before and Sam’s brain instantly screams wrongwrongwrong at the raw emotion he sees. It’s the same look he’s been forced to witness night and day since those first few earth-shattering moments back in Pontiac. He hates it more than any monster he’s ever faced and has to turn his head so he doesn’t see it. Doesn’t see the fear and self-hatred. Sam, however, does relent to Dean’s unspoken command and sits back down. Dean nods and pulls his hand away. He’s acting skittish and shy and Sam prays to God - not likely - that Dean hasn’t gotten a hold of anything stronger than some Tylenol, because he’s read about the shit out there. He knows exactly what it does and this… this weird-ass flying off the handle crap… it has medicated kindness written all over it.
Dean’s breath stutters and he bites his lip trying to hide the sound. He reaches for that all too familiar bottle of liquor, but before his hand can wrap around it, Sam’s own giant hands have got it and he’s shaking his head ‘no’. Dean seems to deflate a little and now there is no eye contact whatsoever. He stares at the TV and balls his hands into fists. Sam can see the toll that whatever confession Dean feels he needs to make is taking on the older hunter, but he doesn’t try to ease Dean’s suffering. He just sits… and waits. Hoping that Dean will just spit it out already.
Dean makes a face as he realizes the television is playing nothing but the constant hum of white noise. He uses the remote to flick the box off and twiddles his thumbs as Sam continues to stare at him with intense scrutiny. Finally, no longer able to take another second of Sam’s overbearing presence, Dean feels the words flow from his mouth.
“In the pit, Sammy. I- I knew Cas was there. When he came for me… I just lost it. I couldn’t- I didn’t deserve to be saved, Sam. The damn angel yanked me out kicking and screaming. What kind of person am I? What kind of person wants to stay in Hell? Wants to keep ripping the flesh off some poor sucker’s bones?”
Dean’s face is covered in shame and Sam feels guilty when the little voice in his head says, Hell again? Jesus, Dean, move past it already! It’s not fair for Sam to think like that, but he kind of feels like if he has to put up with Dean’s angst one more second he’s going to lose it. Sam’s so absorbed in his inner tirade, that he doesn’t even realize Dean started talking again and that he missed the first half of the one-sided conversation.
“- I’m sorry, Sammy.”
Sam’s heart clenches a little, but he pushes it down. Not knowing exactly what Dean has to be sorry for, Sam gives a half smile and carefully stands up, ready to clean up the mess from earlier.
“Don’t worry about it, Dean. It’s no big deal.”
The hurt look is back in place as Dean furrows his eyebrows and Sam figures he made a mistake, but it’s too late. Nothing he can do about it now. So he encourages Dean to lie down and rest.
“I’ve got it from here.”
Dean doesn’t respond. He simply lies down as Sam suggested and waits for sleep to claim him.
Sam sighs for the third time that night. When had he become his brother’s caretaker? Hell had obviously changed Dean, there was no doubt about it, but in some sick demented way, the pit had managed to change Sam as well. He was no longer the innocent puppy-dog eyed kid he had been before angels, and demons, and Hell, had become a day-to-day encounter.
Sam’s eyes fall on Dean’s still form. When did he get so weak? Has he always been this way?
Climbing into his own bed, Sam looks up at the ceiling wondering what they’ve done to deserve such shitty destinies.
I can’t do this, I can’t keep pretending.
Sam lets his eyes drift closed. They’re so close to finishing this… to stopping Lilith… to getting revenge. A sadness fills Sam as he realizes that ‘they’ no longer includes Dean. He hates himself for it, but on the other hand he’s glad that Dean’s changed. Dean had his chance at being the hero and in the end his decisions jeopardized the entire world.
Sam rolls over and stares at his brother’s sleeping form. He knows Dean needs help, but their own needs always came second before and things are no different now. Ruby will find Lilith, Sam’s sure of it, and once the bitch is taken care of Sam will get Dean all the help he needs. Until then, Sam will do his best to keep Dean as far out of the picture as possible.
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Title: A Shameful Admission
Author: enviousxbeauty
Word Count: 1,657
Time Line: Season 4, Episode 16 - 21
Rating: T
Characters: Dean W. // Sam W. // Mentions of Castiel
Warnings: Language, Alcohol Use, Implied Drug Use
Spoilers: Thru Season 4
Summary: Dean makes a drunken confession.
{Originally Tell Me All I Need to Know -- Posted May 7th 2012}
{Revised and Renamed A Shameful Admission -- Posted November 6th 2016}
-----
“I fought him.” Dean blurts out of nowhere as he and Sam sit in some nameless motel room, nothing but the glow of the television and the rattle of the heater keeping them company.
Sam sits up a bit straighter, tired and confused, not quite understanding what his brother is talking about.
“Fought who, Dean?”
Sam’s pretty sure it’s the patronizing tone he spits out that makes Dean angry.
“Forget it, Sam. It’s not like you give a damn. What the hell was I thinking?”
Sam tenses at Dean’s sudden mood swing even if he knows it’s his own fault. Since he admitted what really happened down in the pit, Dean’s been mostly docile, afraid of upsetting the balance between the two and Sam honestly has no idea what’s suddenly gotten into Dean. Glancing at his brother, Sam clears his throat and asks again.
“Just tell me, Dean. I want to know. Who’d you fight?”
Dean’s overly quiet for a few minutes as if he has to contemplate the answer. Sam’s eyes flicker to the amber liquid between the two beds and he mentally sighs. Confessions never happen when a Winchester is sober.
It’s nearly ten minutes later when Dean finally makes his reply, jarring Sam from the semi-conscious state he’d slipped into while Dean took his time coming up with something to say.
“What?” Sam asks too loud and too harsh, but Dean’s words had been no more than a whisper and Sam may have missed his only chance to learn what goes on during his own scandalous outings with Ruby or even worse… something that had happened while he’d been at college so long ago. If that’s the case, then Sam really doesn’t want to hear what Dean has to say after all because then they’d just be back at square one. The exact same place they were four years ago and Sam can’t handle that. He’s tired of trying.
Dean licks his lips and his eyes dart around the room as if he’s afraid someone might be listening- might run off and tell the world his secret. He clears his throat and focuses on Sam. “Cas… I fought Cas.”
Sam is still at a loss and does his best to remember any and all of their encounters with the angel, which have been surprisingly few for the youngest Winchester. The only incident that comes to mind involves torturing Alastair… when those holy pricks - Who said anything about asking? - forced Dean to comply. Putting two and two together, Sam’s pretty sure he’s got four, so he sits up all the way and swings his legs off the bed, placing his feet onto the floor. He easily reaches out and taps Dean, trying to get the older brother’s attention.
“I know you fought Cas, Dean. He should have never made you go head to head with Alastair. It’s over n-”
Anything else Sam may have wanted to say is cut off by Dean’s sudden need to lurch off the bed. He’s wide-eyed and hurt looking and Sam is finding it almost impossible to follow Dean’s manic actions.
“I’m not talking about that, Sam.”
And Sam feels like the biggest idiot, when he realizes he added two plus two and somewhere along the way got five. Gently, Sam scoots forward so that when Dean sits back down both brothers’ knees are just barely touching. It’s a small gesture on Sam’s part, but he hopes Dean can understand what he’s trying to do. Again they sit in silence, waiting on Dean to get his thoughts together so he can form some sort of coherent sentence to finally fill Sam in on just what the hell the man is talking about. Sam’s patience wanes after a mere five minutes. Doing his best not to snap, Sam runs a hand over his face, mumbling behind it.
“Dean…” The patronizing tone is back and Sam tries to find the right way to ask Dean what he’s talking about. The correct way that will result in some actual answers, and not some ludicrous ramblings of a drunkard. “What did you and Cas fight about?”
The statement seems to trigger… something… at least. Though, as a deep shade of red creeps up the sides of Dean’s neck and across his cheek bones, Sam realizes it wasn’t quite the reaction he was expecting. Dean seems more coherent than ever when he looks Sam directly in the eyes, unshed tears shimmering in the low light of the TV. There’s a small pause, then a shaky intake of breath, and the next thing Sam knows, Dean is hunched over, puking his guts onto the dark green carpet, and making a noise that sounds eerily close to a choked off sob.
“Jesus!” Sam gasps as he narrowly avoids chunks of unchewed hamburger as it splatters onto the floor. With a disgusted shudder, Sam starts to rise, looking for something to clean up the mess, but Dean’s hand shoots out and grips Sam’s wrist tightly. The brothers lock eyes like before and Sam’s brain instantly screams wrongwrongwrong at the raw emotion he sees. It’s the same look he’s been forced to witness night and day since those first few earth-shattering moments back in Pontiac. He hates it more than any monster he’s ever faced and has to turn his head so he doesn’t see it. Doesn’t see the fear and self-hatred. Sam, however, does relent to Dean’s unspoken command and sits back down. Dean nods and pulls his hand away. He’s acting skittish and shy and Sam prays to God - not likely - that Dean hasn’t gotten a hold of anything stronger than some Tylenol, because he’s read about the shit out there. He knows exactly what it does and this… this weird-ass flying off the handle crap… it has medicated kindness written all over it.
Dean’s breath stutters and he bites his lip trying to hide the sound. He reaches for that all too familiar bottle of liquor, but before his hand can wrap around it, Sam’s own giant hands have got it and he’s shaking his head ‘no’. Dean seems to deflate a little and now there is no eye contact whatsoever. He stares at the TV and balls his hands into fists. Sam can see the toll that whatever confession Dean feels he needs to make is taking on the older hunter, but he doesn’t try to ease Dean’s suffering. He just sits… and waits. Hoping that Dean will just spit it out already.
Dean makes a face as he realizes the television is playing nothing but the constant hum of white noise. He uses the remote to flick the box off and twiddles his thumbs as Sam continues to stare at him with intense scrutiny. Finally, no longer able to take another second of Sam’s overbearing presence, Dean feels the words flow from his mouth.
“In the pit, Sammy. I- I knew Cas was there. When he came for me… I just lost it. I couldn’t- I didn’t deserve to be saved, Sam. The damn angel yanked me out kicking and screaming. What kind of person am I? What kind of person wants to stay in Hell? Wants to keep ripping the flesh off some poor sucker’s bones?”
Dean’s face is covered in shame and Sam feels guilty when the little voice in his head says, Hell again? Jesus, Dean, move past it already! It’s not fair for Sam to think like that, but he kind of feels like if he has to put up with Dean’s angst one more second he’s going to lose it. Sam’s so absorbed in his inner tirade, that he doesn’t even realize Dean started talking again and that he missed the first half of the one-sided conversation.
“- I’m sorry, Sammy.”
Sam’s heart clenches a little, but he pushes it down. Not knowing exactly what Dean has to be sorry for, Sam gives a half smile and carefully stands up, ready to clean up the mess from earlier.
“Don’t worry about it, Dean. It’s no big deal.”
The hurt look is back in place as Dean furrows his eyebrows and Sam figures he made a mistake, but it’s too late. Nothing he can do about it now. So he encourages Dean to lie down and rest.
“I’ve got it from here.”
Dean doesn’t respond. He simply lies down as Sam suggested and waits for sleep to claim him.
Sam sighs for the third time that night. When had he become his brother’s caretaker? Hell had obviously changed Dean, there was no doubt about it, but in some sick demented way, the pit had managed to change Sam as well. He was no longer the innocent puppy-dog eyed kid he had been before angels, and demons, and Hell, had become a day-to-day encounter.
Sam’s eyes fall on Dean’s still form. When did he get so weak? Has he always been this way?
Climbing into his own bed, Sam looks up at the ceiling wondering what they’ve done to deserve such shitty destinies.
I can’t do this, I can’t keep pretending.
Sam lets his eyes drift closed. They’re so close to finishing this… to stopping Lilith… to getting revenge. A sadness fills Sam as he realizes that ‘they’ no longer includes Dean. He hates himself for it, but on the other hand he’s glad that Dean’s changed. Dean had his chance at being the hero and in the end his decisions jeopardized the entire world.
Sam rolls over and stares at his brother’s sleeping form. He knows Dean needs help, but their own needs always came second before and things are no different now. Ruby will find Lilith, Sam’s sure of it, and once the bitch is taken care of Sam will get Dean all the help he needs. Until then, Sam will do his best to keep Dean as far out of the picture as possible.
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