I Really Messed Up, Guys: A Supernatural Self Harm Fic

A Stupid Show

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Alright, Casey. You got this. Breathe. Breathe it out. You're awesome. And hot. And definitely not useless. All the bitches love you, your entire family loves you. Look how hard they've gone for you. They were willing to give up hunting for you. Why are you freaking out? I need to get it together because this is pathetic. Wait, no. The books said not to insult or blame yourself. I can't even do that ri- NO, CASEY. STOP IT. BAD CASE FACE BAD. WAIT. CRAP. Okay, okay. How can I change that into a slightly more positive statement? Hmmm... alright, I've got it! I made a mistake and insulted myself a couple times, but that's okay. Because wherever you are in recovery is where you're meant to be as long as you stay in recovery. Isn't recovery just for drug addicts and alcoholics though? Does this even count? Well, I guess it is an addiction. Gosh. Okay, think. Think. No, don't think. Breathe.

Casey pulled her legs from her chest a little so she had room to put her head between her knees. She'd heard someplace that it can help when people are hyperventilating, and her lungs were going about a mile a minute. Which really is only sixty miles per hour, but the colloquialism was still relevant.

She wasn't sure why she was having a meltdown, but she was trying to get through it on her own. She thought the pills might be starting to help, but she knew they wouldn't fix her entirely. Nothing could fix her entirely, although she could learn to deal with it. If she was almost three months clean she could learn how to deal with it. Three months. That number made her heart swell with pride every time she thought about it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been four months clean; she must have been nine or younger. Her brothers hadn't made a big deal about it, though, which made her feel a little crappy. She didn't want to bring it up. That was too arrogant. Pride was a deadly sin, wasn't it? Then again, so was gluttony, murder, loving your neighbor... all of which happened on about a weekly basis for them. Did one more deadly sin matter at this point? Especially a sin that she hadn't indulged in for a long time. She had indulged in it so little that the lack of it had torn her mind and her body apart. It was time to sin a little bit more. She deserved it.

But why was she having a melt down? She didn't remember the full details, but somebody on Doctor Sexy, M.D. needed to be admitted to an inpatient ward because she'd been hurting herself to the point where it was dangerous- life or death dangerous. Casey's biggest fear was laid out right there in front of her on a screen. She tried moving on to the next episode, but couldn't stop imagining her brothers bringing her to a hospital and seeing Baby's back license plate driving away without her. With how much they loved her she knew it was unrealistic, but that episode was too close to home. It was like the writer Rhonda Simes wrote it just to freak her out.

    This sucked. Is this really all it took to break her down? A stupid episode of a stupid TV show? She wouldn't say that around Dean, but she wasn't wrong. It was just a show and she was stronger than a show.

    "Uuuuggghhhhhhh," Casey huffed and swung her legs over the bed. She wiped her eyes and walked over to her dresser to check the mirror and make sure her tear tracks had mostly dissolved. She knew what would happen if she continued to isolate herself and she couldn't afford that. Her eyes were a little puffy, but she could blame that on the fall. The boys knew she had terrible allergies every autumn and her eyes always looked like marshmallows once the season began to hit in earnest. Granted, there wasn't a lot of pollen inside of the bunker, but she could make the lie work. Even if they didn't believe her she knew they wouldn't press it as long as she was out of her room and safe. Her alone time had gotten boosted to two hours twice a day, but still with the door open. The deal was that, or continuing one hour twice a day with the door closed. It was an easy choice to make, especially after they'd mostly stopped conspicuously walking past her door every twenty minutes. Plus it didn't have to be fully open, just at least a foot.