The Impossible Happy

Haunted

*Trigger Warnings: some serious self doubt/hate and one homophobic slur

The ride was silent. An angry, hurt, tension fell over the two. They both knew they were at fault if anything was to happen to Sam.

Dean knew he should be feeling sorry for what had just been said, but he was too distracted.

'And for what?' Thought Dean, 'A winged nerd? You actually chose this child over Sam? You faggot. You wimp. What if something's happened to him? What's wrong with you?' The writhing monster within Dean Winchester, that was his self loathing had been awoken. It coursed through his veins, inhabiting him. All at once, he was disgusted at the man he had become ('can you even call yourself a man?'), he felt nothing but guilt.

He knew sam was fine, he knew he shouldn't be ashamed, but he just was.

Dean's father would tell him these things. He would tell him that he was worthless, not man enough, that he was nothing but a useless fag, how could he let something like this happen to Sammy? Stupid. No good. Unloved.

Because Dean's father was not dead. Dean's father was haunting his brain. Whispering evil thoughts of doubt and disgust into the boys head. He was the evil voice.

"Dean." From Castiel, "Dean?" A bit harsher.

"Oh. What?"

"What bar is it?"

"Oh, right. O'Malley's. Get off here, it's right off the highway" he grunted, gesturing in the general

Silence.

"What if something had happened to Sam? I should've called him, Cas." Dean sighed.

"Dean, Sam can take on cases by himself. He is not a child."

They pulled up to the ramshackle bar, not bothering to get a firm grip on their surroundings. Both practically sprinted in.

Sam sat at the bar his chin resting on the counter, his eyes blankly staring at an empty glass.

"Sam! Oh, hey there buddy--easy, easy" Sam stood and Dean put an arm out to support the swaying giant.

"Dean? Why are you here-hic-you're supposed to be...." He drifted off, still swaying.

"Sam? Buddy?" Dean had him by both shoulders.

"Hmm?" Dean shifted Sam's weight around, placing a supportive arm around his waist.

"I'm gonna get him to a table. Get him some coffee, will you?" Dean began lugging the man to the nearest booth, while Cas turned to the bar.

The lull of the place, Dean looked around after he sets Sam down, was monotonous. Soft mumbles of drunks and riff-raff, the shuffle of cards, the pouring of drinks. Somehow, it seemed quiet, still. It must've been the screaming inside his head that made it so. Why must he hate himself so much? He was finally happy, or so he thought, why must this come back? Why must he alway fuck everything up?

Cas sat down across from him, passing the coffee to Sam who half-consciously picked it up and gulped it.

"Let's get him sobered up, then we'll head out." Cas nodded, and silence spread over the group.
***
Sam was finally sobering up after an hour or so, though no one talked, they were too tired, too sad, to talk. The rustle and jingle of the front door opening louder than it should have, startled Dean into looking up.

At the door, stood a dapper looking man. His suit pressed and ironed, his hair slicked and groomed. His face harsh and glacial. His grim expression and mannerisms were just so, that Dean had no trouble recognizing them--Angel.