Through Eyes of Insanity//Dean Winchester

7.0

D E A N

Dean Winchester hadn't slept in 3 days, and it was finally starting to take its toll. His head seemed too heavy to hold up, and his eyes were weighed down with fatigue. Each second becoming a test to remain conscious.

He remembered a time where he could go days with only a few hours. But now, his body had grown accustomed to a full night's rest. And the sudden change had not bode him well.

"You should go home, get some rest," he heard his brother say from where he stood at the door. Not quite sure if he should enter in or not. Dean felt an unbidden surge of anger slowly build up in him as he looked up at his younger sibling. He did not reply, fearing the words that might exit his mouth, and so, let the room sink back into steely silence. Sam's statement lingering lamely in the air before retreating into the corners to hide.

"Look, Dean," Sam finally broke out, shaking his head dejectedly and looking down, "I know that what I did was wrong." At his words, Dean snorted. "And I'm sorry, I am..but I'm here now-- that's what matters." Dean finally looked up, his eyes green eyes meeting his brother's hazels. He couldn't decipher the emotions running through them, anger, hurt, pity, even pain, too many to count. 

Looking away quickly again, his eyes slowly traveled back to Emily, his Emily, the same one that, when she was younger. Would take the small, terrifying journey down the dark hallway, book clutched in her small, frail arms, to get her father to read to her. The same Emily that he remembered, would run to his arms every day after he got off work and went to pick her up from daycare. Even the days that he was late and she had to spend extra time there.

His Emily, that was now lying on the edge of death.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Dean found himself saying, words pouring out of his mouth unbidden, but unstoppable, "she wasn't supposed to die like this--anything, but this." At his words, he heard Sam shift slightly at the door. Taking a tentative foot in, before shutting them in quietly.

"After everything we've seen, Sam." Dean finally managed, "ghosts, ghouls, demons, freakin' leviathan--out of everything--it makes a crash seem so.. simple." He closed his eyes, feeling the all-too-familiar burning sensation of  tears as they welled up behind his eyelids.

"Dean, you couldn't stop it," Sam answered quietly, "it's not your fault." Dean found himself chuckling softly at his words.

"That's what the shrink said."

"Well maybe she was right." Sam's words fell into silence, the brief moment that they had shared, vanishing once more. "Get some rest, I'll watch her." This time, Dean could tell it wasn't a suggestion. And even now, he felt the fatigue that enveloped his body seem to double. Simply nodding, he got up, brushing off nonexistent dust from his jeans and running a hand over his face tiredly. Dean took one last, lingering look at his daughter, laying small and vulnerable, surrounded by the stark white sheets, before he left.

His mind though, never leaving the small, white dwelling. Instead, it circled the walls, pacing the room idly, searching, wanting, loving more than he could have imagined.

Dean Winchester was a broken, and this time he was afraid it would stay that way.

He walked slowly down the hallways, each step, embedded in his mind, each floor tile memorized. 37, 38, 39.. He was so lost in the recesses of his mind, that he did not hear the small, quick footsteps slowly nearing him. Dean turned a corner quickly, 49, 50, 51.. And suddenly, something hot was trickling down the front of his shirt, and someone had landed with a solid, thump, on the floor. He cursed loudly, pulling his shirt away from his chest to prevent the scalding coffee from burning him even further.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," came a rushed voice as the person he had run into struggled to make amends. Her voice was soft and kind, catching Dean's attention and causing him to look up sharply. His eyes met another's, the shrink, who stood before him, dark, doe-like eyes laced with worry.

"Oh--Dean! I'm so sorry," she repeated, bending down and clumsily gathering her scattered papers. The anger that Dean had felt bubbling up within him, was suddenly extinguished by her innocent proclamation. And instead, he found himself bending down and picking up a few stray papers that had fluttered farther down the hall.

"It's fine, I wasn't.. uh--all there, anyway." He said, surprised at the words as they left his mouth. He looked up again, meeting her eyes again. And, for once, it seemed like he was suddenly seeing her for the first time. The way her dark eyes were large, almost owl-like in appearance. How they seemed to look inside him, not sympathizing, just simply understanding.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I ever got your name?" He said, handing her the small stack of papers that he had managed to pick up. She took it gingerly, a small, sad smile playing on her lips.

"I never said," she began, pushing a stray strand of hair from her face and tucking it neatly behind her ear, "Devin, Devin Stone."   

I'm not usually going to go for Dean's point of view, but I really wanted to write him, seeing Devin. I'm not exceptionally happy with this chapter, it's a little too.. scattered? I guess. 

But I got it down, and hopefully the next update won't take a month to write!