TRIGGER WARNING- drug abuse, alcohol, self harm, suicide, just a bunch of really sad shit.
Inspired by : https://youtu.be/3Qz1Cmj63AE
“Just come home, please.” Dean rasped on the phone. You knew Sam wasn't around, he wouldn't have let Sam hear him like that. You weren't going to lie to him or anyone else. You knew this was your fault.
“I can't, Dean. You can't see me like this.” You told him. You loved him with all of your heart, with everything you had. It had been two months since he saw you. You couldn't let him see how bad you were.
“I don't care how bad it is, please…. please I need you.” It was like he knew what you were thinking, he always had.
Hearing him beg like that broke you, it pulled something in your throat until you felt like you were going to throw up. “I gotta go, Dean.” You knew you were hurting him worse than anything ever had. But you knew how much more it would kill him to see you the way you were, so thin and tired, scabs from where you picked at ghost touches on your arm. You heard him sob on the other end of the phone. “Hold on, I still love you.” He pleaded. “Just come back home.” He sniffled. “Please.”
You hung up, instantly throwing the pillows off the bed, ripping the hotel phone off the table and throwing it across the room. You pulled a vase off the dresser and smashed the glass on the floor. You screamed and cried louder and harder than ever. You'd never felt so low and dirty.
“Hold on, I still love you.” His voice played over and over like a broken record in your head. You wanted to stop. You pleaded to the God who had never given you anything to give you this, to give you a healthy mind again. To take you home to Dean. To take you back to your boys. To give you your life back. “Just come back home.”
You stood in front of the mirror on the wall, dressed in just your shirt and some underwear. You lifted your shirt, watched your ribs slide under your skin with each quick and shallow breath. You’d never been so small, you’d never been small at all. You ran your fingers over them, down your stomach to the bones at your hips. You were sobbing. It had seemed like nothing at first, just fun, a relief, but now you knew. You’d wasted away in the blink of an eye. You used to be strong and proud and just then, looking at yourself in the mirror… you were nothing. A skeleton. A ghost. Everything you used to hate.
You destroyed everything you could touch in the hotel room, just like you did in your own life. You ripped the sheets off the bed, ripped the travel brochures on the table, tore the shower curtain down. You couldn't take it anymore. You ripped the drawer open to the bedside table and grabbed the little baggy inside the phone book. You hid it there. That happy powder, that saving grace, that white light in the darkness.
You couldn't see yourself getting better. Nothing would ever get better. You didn't see any point. You took the pills out of the bag and downed them all, chasing them with the kind of whiskey that Dean drank.
You picked up the shards from the broken vase and sling it across your wrist, your chest, the top of your arm, carelessly cutting any skin you could hit.
You laid down in the bathtub. The linoleum was cool on your skin, it felt so good. You felt like you were floating. No, not floating. Flying. You found yourself thinking of Castiels light, then of Sam’s warm brown eyes. You imagined yourself dancing in Dean’s eyes, in the fields of green. It was so warm there.
God, it was so warm…
“I need you.” You heard Deans’s voice in your head. It echoed around, your dancing feet and swirled up your body. You suddenly felt cold. “Hold onto me.” Those words killed the flowers, the trees were losing their leaves. “I still love you.” His voice was cleared now, more desperate than the echoes. “Please don't leave me.” It sounded like he gargled his own voice. You walked into the darkness and found a curtain, pulling the rope to open them.
Dean was there. He screamed your name. You saw his mouth moving and what seemed like 10 years later his words reached you. “Please don't leave me.” He begged. His words started catching up with his mouth. “Everything is going to be okay, y/n.”
You gasped for air, it felt like you were taking the ocean into your lungs. “Dean,” you meant to scream his name, make a chorus like you used to, but your voice was gone.
You felt the curtain closing again, moving on its own this time. You weren't flying anymore. Sam walked into the bathroom. You felt rain on your skin. “No, no, no!” Dean was screaming, holding onto your face.
He had never cried so hard so much in front of so many people. He didn't care anymore. He rode beside you in the ambulance, you were delirious. The EMS workers in the ambulance were working frantically to save your life, they didn't say anything but Dean could tell. They didn't try to reassure him because they could tell he knew how bad it was. He held your hand cradled in his, noticing the tracks on top of the veins in your hand. The sirens sounded so far away to him, everything was so far away.
“You can't see me like this.” You had said to him. Your voice twirled around between his ears. How could you not know how much he loved you? He should've told you more often. He should have held your hand like that every day. He should've never let you leave. You looked so pale… You looked like a ghost. You looked…
Dean lost his breath when he heard to little monitor on the shelf screaming monotone pitch at him, singing the most pitiful song he'd ever heard. The ambulance halted and they rolled you out before Dean could even think to stand. He shook his head and sprinted after you, stumbling in the door just as you went out of sight.
He screamed your name, tried to follow you down the hall, wherever you were going. Two, three, four nurses tried to hold him back as he fought against them all, screaming your name, reaching for you until Sam showed up and held him back. Leading him to a seat in the waiting room.
It felt like days before a doctor came out and walked over to them. Sam's eyes lit up, looking hopefully at the doctor Dean knew could only have bad news. It’s all sounded like gibberish, he couldn’t hear a word that was said, he couldn’t understand. All he could hear was your voice, your laugh, the softness in the way you told him you loved him every single time.
“Can I see her?” Dean asked, broken, knowing he had interrupted and not caring at all. The doctor seemed annoyed until he saw Dean’s face, pale and fallen, everything drooping.
“Sir, I need you to understand the severity of her condition. We’re not so sure she is going to make it out of this. She seems stable but it appears her drug abuse has taken its toll on her body. She’s extremely underweight and dehydrated, she’s very weak right now.”
“She’s never been weak.” Dean snapped.
“Sir, drug abuse can change a person for the worse.”
“She’s stronger than that.” Dean hoped.
“Only time will tell if she will pull through.” The doctor folded his hands in front of himself, bowing away from them.
He sat by your bed, never sleeping, never eating, never speaking, never moving. Things moved around him but it was like everything but you was in his peripheral. He scanned your body day and night, searching for movement, searching for some sign you were going to come home to him.
Images of the two of you danced around his head, your laughter echoed inside him, he could feel your words rattling in his bones, the way you always tapped a pen on your head when you were confused or focused, your eyes.
Your eyes.
They were opening.
You saw him sitting there staring at your hand, wrapped up in his.
“Come back, I still need you.” He pressed his forehead to the top of your hand, you could feel his hot tears on your skin. “I can’t see this world without you in it, y/n. I don’t want to. All this pain, all the evil, the darkness… you’re the reason I get out of bed in the morning, to make this world a better place for you.”
You tried to say his name but the words wouldn’t come out.
“I’m sorry that I-“ his voice broke and he let out of a soft sob. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do it, baby.” He cried. “Please come back. Please just give me another chance.”
You pulled your chapped lips apart and drew a breath of the cold, crisp air. “Dean.” You sounded so pleading. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m so sorry.”
He shot ip out of his seat, his face falling. “No, no, no, baby. Don’t say you’re sorry, it’s okay. We’re going to fix this.” He assured you, placing his hand on your forehead, brushing hair back out of your face.
“I’m so sorry, Dean.” There was a lump in your throat that your words struggled past, tears that fell over your pale, dry face.
He kissed your face countless times, making his way to your lips eventually. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He choked. “We all have our demons.” He hugged you tight.
It made you feel sick with yourself to feel him on you. You didn’t know what it was but you almost felt guilty he was even touching you. You stiffened and he leaned back.
“What’s wrong?” His eyebrows knitted together as he searched you for anything that could be wrong.
Suddenly the sick feeling turned to a tightening in your throat. “Please don’t act like it’s okay. I wrecked you, Dean. I wrecked myself. And you’re still here-“
“Just because you think you don’t deserve to live doesn’t mean I do. Look at yourself, hell, look at me. You worried me sick to death for months and I knew-“ his voice cracked and he took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t care what you did. All that matters is that you’re back and you’re alive.” Dean sighed.
“Dean,” you started.
He cut you off with a deepened, pleading glare, “Please, just let me be happy to have you home.”
You nodded and gave him as much of a smile as you could.
“I’m gonna go get Sam.” He added on, “and a Doctor,” and slipped out the door.
