Pull Me Up (a destiel au fanfic)

chapter 3

I spent the rest of the night and the next day in my room, laying under the covers, not even having the energy to get up and get a beer like I wanted to. In a way I knew that was good because it would be bad for me to drink away whatever grief I was about losing Sammy. So instead I just stared at the walls, turning them down or away from me so I didn't have to see his smile.

All it did was remind me that I wasn't there for him when he needed me. I wasn't there when he was struggling so hard with his heroin addiction and I wasn't there when he was clean. I ignored the problem and acted like he would be fine, because I'd believed he would be. I knew that he was a strong kid and could get through whatever it was that he was going through.

He never talked to me about it either. We both knew he was struggling and neither of us would address it out loud. I knew he needed my help and he pleaded for it silently, all the nights he would shoot up in his room alone, all the nights I listened through the wall as his head hit it when he finally had his fix. As I laid in my room, thinking about those late nights I closed my eyes, knowing I would rather have him here right now, throwing up and shivering as sweat dripped down his face as he tried to get clean than have him at the crematorium, burnt to nothing with all the shit still in his system.

I turned and buried my face in my pillow. He had been too young to die. Only 22 years old. He was too bright and full of life. He had been at least. Before some of his stupid college "friends" convinced him to shoot up one night. He thought he had self control. He thought he could just get a a fix once and never need it again. I thought he could, too. But we were both wrong and now he isn't here to admit his fault and I'm not with him to apologize for not helping him.

My phone buzzed against my night stand, breaking me from my thoughts. I sighed into the pillow. As I kept breathing into it I imagined what it would be like if I could smother myself. If I could end this before I got too deep into the mess of losing Sammy to the point where I couldn't get out. I push my face into it deeper, knowing less and less oxygen was entering my body.

My phone buzzed again and I stayed still, not daring to see who was calling me. Ellen or Jo probably. They'd left me alone all night and day, knowing that going out was too much for me. I appreciated it from them. I wouldn't know what to do if they'd try to get me out.

Finally when I couldn't breathe at all, my body pulled itself to sit up and sucked in a deep breath. My phone stopped making noise. Thank God.

I didn't know what to do. My thoughts seemed to be crawling through my brain so slow that I couldn't identify one from another. Most of my thoughts were sad.

I'd actually felt tears rolling down my face as I laid there early this morning when I heard birds chirping. There'd been a cluttering of spoons on pans and forks on plates while Jo and Ellen ate breakfast, and they burned my eyes and my cheeks. I didn't want to feel the sadness pouring from me and I didn't want to address the fact that I was actually feeling that lump in my throat. So I just let it happen as if it wasn't happening.

My phone began to buzz again and finally, out of pure irritation I groaned and answered it.

"Hello?" I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face and pinching the bridge of my nose as the headache worked its way into my eyes.

"Hi, Mr. Win- uh- Dean?" a man's voice asked. I shook my head and pulled the phone back to look at the caller ID, seeing a number I didn't recognize this.

"Who is this?" I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Oh, this is Castiel? Castiel Novak, I met with you yesterday?" he specified. Oh.

"Oh! Yes, hi, Castiel, uh, what's up?"

"Well, I just wanted to inform you that the service is reserved at Water Spring for 2pm tomorrow. That was the correct date and time, yes?" he asked, and I could hear the rustling of him opening his schedule in the background.