If Heaven Wasn't So Far Away

Story Time

I awoke to Heat of the Moment being blared. Dean was screaming along to it, and Sam was smiling to himself.
No way in Hell was I going to scream along to music in front of other people, regardless of it being Sam and Dean, so I just smiled also.
"Take it away, Sammy." Dean yelled.
And he did. I laid back against the seat again, closing my eyes. I might as well go back to sleep.
"You have to sing too!" Dean yelled in my ear over the music.
"I'm good, thanks!" I said just a bit louder than my normal voice. Yelling isn't my thing.
He seemed to have heard me though. "We aren't stopping until you do!"
"Sam, help!"
"You take his side, I'll take his side!" He grinned.
Damn it. I knew that'd backfire.
I envy them. They're so... Them. And I'm so.... Me.
I took a deep breath. I'd probably live to regret this. I only do this when I'm alone... But I screamed along too.
"And then you find yourself in '82! Disco hotspots hold no charm for you!"
God, I'm so weird...
After the chorus, I shut up again. Thankfully, that seemed to have satisfied them, and Sam pulled into the next non-shithole motel.
I threw my stuff on the couch.
"Why don't you and Sam just sleep together if you have such a problem with us sleeping on the couch?" Dean asked. "He's a good boy."
"Who's had you influencing him for twenty years." I countered.
He paused, then shrugged in agreement. He tossed his jacket on the bed.
I walked over and pulled up his sleeves. He was healed. "Damn." I said. "I need an angel boyfriend." I muttered where only Dean could hear.
"Shut the hell up. He's not... We're not... I'm... Just shut up."
I laughed at his discomfort.
Sam put my stuff on the bed.
"Guys." I said. "I can sleep on the couch."
"You can." Sam agreed. "But you're not." He sat on the couch.
"I'm gonna read for a bit. Will the light bother you?" I asked.
They said no.
I sat at the table with my book, and a little bit later, Sam joined me. "Whatcha reading?"
"Bible." I said distractedly. He didn't move. "Go get in the fucking bed."
He grinned, but didn't move.
"Go now, or it's back to the couch."
"I want to talk to you."
"About?" Damn it. I bookmarked my book and looked up.
"Earlier."
"Broad category."
"You said you tried to kill yourself."
Naturally, this would come back to bite me in the ass. "Could we make a rule that we can't talk about it afterwards?"
"No."
"Then you have to tell me about the whole demon blood thing."
"Gladly." He said. "Long story short, I met a demon named Ruby, who I thought was on our side, and the angels said that Dean and I had to kill Lilith, so I knew that Dean wouldn't be able to and I'd have to do something to be strong enough to. So Ruby 'helped' me and I killed Lilith and then Dean told me about the angels' plan and then we killed her and then Satan came. Your turn."
"I tried to kill myself and failed miserably."
"That so does not count."
"It's a long story short." I shrugged.
"But why?"
"Because that's what happened?"
"No, I meant why'd you do it? And I know you know that. Why don't you want to tell me?"
"Which question do you want me to answer."
"Both."
"Which one?" I said adamantly.
"Why won't you tell me?"
"I did tell you."
"Why won't you talk about it?"
"Because I was young and dumb and it was stupid."
"Now the truth."
"That is the truth, Sam. It was a bad way to handle it."
"Maybe so, but you can still talk about it."
"I don't want to, Sam." I said finally.
"But why?"
"It'll drive you away."
"And having someone tell you they were addicted to demon blood doesn't drive you away?"
"Maybe if it was someone else. But it's you, so..."
"Drinking demon blood is something to be ashamed of."
"And suicide isn't?"
"No."
"Well maybe I think it is."
"Do you?"
"No. But I am. Bed time." I stood up, but he pulled me back down.
"You have to tell the story."
"Fine. Once upon a time there was a girl who felt like shit. Her dad died and her family blamed her for it. And maybe it was her fault; she's still trying to figure that one out. One day she just got tired of trying and giving a shit so she cut deeper than she ever had before. Unfortunately for her, her little sister came in and started screaming like she'd just been stabbed and her mom called 9-1-1 and demanded to know what the hell was wrong with her. They stuck her in a damn mental hospital for months, and when she got out the only person in her family who didn't hate her had cancer and her friend had attempted suicide twice while she was gone, so she went to his house to check on him and only to find he had a fucking gun to his head. She took the gun and called his parents. And then her best friend committed suicide. She didn't think she could go on without her, since she had been the only person there for her. She was so fucking alone and isolated. And then at church they talked about Heaven and she decided she wanted to get the fuck over there and swallowed a bunch of pills but threw them up. Then her grandmother passed away and she left town.
"Then two idiots broke into her apartment and forced themselves into her life, and she started traveling with them. They found out about her dirty little secret and actually gave shit and cared to help her. Now they don't believe her when she says she's fine, which she's glad of, but scared of. She's really glad someone gives a shit, but she doesn't like that they can read her so easily, but she comforts herself with the fact that she learned to read them before they learned to read her. Happily ever after, the end."
"Do you write?" Sam asked.
"What?" I asked, that not being the answer I'd expected.
"Like, stories or books."
"No."
"You should." He stood, grabbing my hands in his and pulling me with him. "I love you." He said. "You're not alone. Please don't ever do that again." He whispered.
"I love you too."
He kissed me, then just held me.
"I don't want to be comforted." I said.
"Then don't think of it as comforting."
"I'm tired."
"Do I have the bed privilege?"
I sighed. "I guess."
"The bed it is." He grinned, letting me go and grabbing his pillow from the couch.
Dean opened his eyes, telling me he'd heard it all. I held his gaze, trying to convey the curses in my head. I pointed at a kitchen knife, and he snapped his eyes closed pretty quickly.
I laid down on the edge of the bed. When Sam got there, he pulled me to him. At first, I sat there stiffly, but then I realized he'd had millions of opportunities to tell me to screw the fuck off, but yet, he was still here. So I relaxed into him and closed my eyes.

I woke up in the middle of the night. Sam had shifted slightly, and was now in just the right position to allow me up. I got up and slipped out of the room. I went and sat on the hood of the Impala.
Dean joined me. "Hey," he said.
"Hey." I said. "Did I wake you?"
"Nah." He said. "You pissed?"
"About?"
"Being alive?"
"I honestly don't care anymore."
"Well, I'm glad you're alive."
I said nothing for a while, trying to figure out what to say. I decided on something, then spoke up, after rehearsing it in my head. "I'm glad you're alive."
"Yeah, well."
"What?"
"I'm just tired." He glanced at me. "You know?"
I nodded.
He sat beside me, a beer in his hand. But I don't know why that surprised me. He always has one. I guess the time of day doesn't matter.
"You can't just hold everything in, Dean." I said. "You'll explode."
"You're one to talk."
"Well I care more about you than myself."
"Well you shouldn't."
"Well I do."
"That's the kind of thing that'll get you killed."
"So that's where Sam got that shit from."
"Yep."
"You want to protect him, but you want him to be a cold bastard?"
"It'll keep him alive, so yes." He took on the deep voice he always uses when he's pretending he doesn't care and actually cares a hell of a lot.
"Dean, you're not a heartless bastard."
"Oh, but I am." He smiled.
"If you were, you wouldn't be feeling what you're feeling now."
"Which is?"
"Guilt. Pain. Self-loathing."
"Yeah, well."
"If you were, Sam would be dead. If you were, I wouldn't be here. If you were, you wouldn't be a Hunter. If you were, you'd be just fine. But you're not, which proves you care."
"I honestly have no idea how you even look at me. You're an innocent, virgin, Christian and I'm trapping and cursing at angels and started the goddamn apocalypse."
"Not on purpose. That doesn't make you a bad person. And I swear if you don't shut up about the whole virgin thing, I'll go fuck some random bastard."
"But not Sam?"
"Hell no. I lied to him."
"So? I lied to just about everyone I've had sex with."
"Yeah, but he'll learn the truth."
"And that's a bad thing?" He gave me a guarded look, like he was reevaluating his judgment of my sanity.
"Very bad. I'm trying to save him pain, here." I said, trying to justify myself.
"Won't it be worse if he finds out some other way?"
"No. That won't happen. I'm not sure if it'll actually bother him or not, but just in case."
"What is it?"
"What if you tell him."
"If it'll hurt him, I won't. If it won't, you will."
"No."
"Kidding, kidding. That'll only happen if it's important, which Imm assuming it is. but I won't tell him. You haven't told him anything I've told you."
"Well, you know how I cut on my thighs too?" He nodded. "Well, I told Sam that that's it, but that's not it and I kind of promised him that that was it."
"You need to tell him."
"I don't want to." My eyes filled with tears, which I quickly blinked away.
"But you should."
"I shouldn't have lied in the first place. But Dean-"
"I'm not making you, Imm just recommending it. You have your phone?"
"Yeah."
"You have music on it?"
"Yeah."
"Play it."
"I have Heat of the Moment on repeat and I'm not taking it off."
"I don't mind." He grinned.
So I played it. We sat there for a while, then I put my head on his shoulder.
"Tired?" He asked softly.
"No." I half lied. "But if you were a heartless bastard, you'd shove me off you."
He laughed, and I assumed he rolled his eyes.
"So, what happened with you and Castiel?"
"Nothing."
"Liar."
"He healed me and left."
"Tell Sam you're gay and I'll tell him about... Yeah."
"Hell no."
"Exactly."