Falling Shadow: Dean's Battle (Supernatural Fanfiction Book 3)

Boiling Over

The days start to blur together, each one weighed down by the tension in the air. I notice it slowly at first, the way the sharp items around the house begin to disappear. The kitchen knives aren't in their usual drawer, the razors in the bathroom have vanished, and even the scissors I'd seen on Bobby's desk the other day are gone. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's happening. Sam's been hiding anything he thinks I might use to hurt myself. He's smart, but he doesn't know I've still got his knife tucked away in a spot only I know. It's become my lifeline, the only thing keeping the voices from completely swallowing me whole.

But today is different. Today, the voices are louder, angrier, and no matter what I do, they won't be soothed. It's the day after my third hunting trip since I've been back, and I can feel something bubbling up inside me, like a pressure cooker ready to explode. It's that same dark anger I felt the day I hurt Sam. And no matter how much I try to push it down, it's clawing its way to the surface.

I'm in the middle of my routine, the knife pressing into my skin just enough to feel the pain, when Sam comes in to grab me for dinner. The second he starts asking questions, trying to get me to talk, I snap.

I don't even know what I say, the words are just a blur of rage and pain, but before I know it, Sam is on the floor, looking up at me with a mixture of shock and hurt in his eyes. The knife clatters to the ground as reality crashes down on me. I've done it again. I've hurt him again. But this time, it's different. This time, Sam doesn't say a word. He just gets up, brushes himself off, and walks out of the room, leaving me alone with the mess I've made.

When I finally drag myself out for dinner, the atmosphere is thick with an unspoken tension. Bobby and Castiel are talking, trying to keep the conversation light, but Sam's silence is deafening. It's like a knife in my gut, twisting deeper with every second that passes. I pick at my food, barely taking a couple of nibbles, but I can't bring myself to eat. The guilt is too heavy, weighing me down until I feel like I can't breathe.

After dinner, I try to apologize to Sam. I follow him to our room, but he won't even look at me. He just stares at the wall, ignoring every word that comes out of my mouth. The silence stretches on for days, and with each passing moment, it breaks me a little more. It's like I'm being crushed under the weight of my own guilt, and I don't know how much more I can take.

That's when the thought crosses my mind. Maybe I don't deserve to be here. Maybe I don't deserve the second chance I've been given. Maybe the only place I truly belong is back in Hell. I know it's crazy, but the voices in my head won't stop telling me it's the only way. That I deserve the torment, that I should have stayed down there. And the more I think about it, the more it makes sense.

So I make up my mind. I'm going to find Crowley, and I'm going to make a deal. I'll go back to Hell, and maybe then, Sam will finally be free of me.

I leave a note on the bed, my hands shaking as I write out the words. I can barely see through the tears in my eyes, but I manage to get it done. Then I slip out of the motel, making sure no one sees me. It's time to make things right, the only way I know how.

Sam's POV

I've been lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything. The silence between me and Dean is tearing me apart, but I don't know how to fix it. He hurt me, yeah, but that's not what matters. What matters is that he's hurting too, and he won't let me help him. He's shutting me out, and I'm scared that if I don't do something soon, I'm going to lose him for good.

When I finally decide to get up and check on him, something feels off. Our room is too quiet, too still. I walk over to his bed and that's when I see it—a note, crumpled and tear-stained, lying on his pillow. My heart sinks as I pick it up and start reading. The words are like a punch to the gut.