Dear Addiction

Chapter nineteen

Two weeks had passed in a blur and soon enough it was the day before they left for LA. A trip originally meant just for Dean to talk to his record label. Though as it was over thanksgiving week, and Dean was only needed for a few hours, Sam and the kids decided they would come along. The day before they left started like any other. Dean just coming down from a high after a night at Balthazars, barely managing to pull himself up the buildings staircase.

Most of his weight was rested against the railing, his eyes half closed, seeming to shut after every step. He'd never wished the elevator worked more then now as his head spun with sickness.

Dean took another step, squeezing his eyes shut at the sudden twist in his stomach. He wasn't going to throw up, he was too exhausted to. Only able to feel the depression that always came after cocaine's high euphoria.

His eyes slowly fluttered open, traveling from the upcoming platform and to the bottom of the staircase. He could fall. Let his grip loosen and his weight lean back. It would be refreshing.

He could fall. A breath parted his lips.

Then another.

The only thing he could hear was the hammering of his own heart, mocking him for how alive he was. Why couldn't his body just let him die, let the cocaine win, and kill him happy. Why did his heart continue to beat, why was he so fucking alive.

The thoughts continued to ring through his head as he reached the fourth floor, his body immediately crumbling under his own weight. He lent his side against the entrance frame, a shaken breath parting his lips. His skin was boiling. Licking with a heat that caused beads of sweat to form at his brow, though he couldn't find the energy to pull his leather jacket off, or the long sleeve underneath it.

"Jesus, are you good?" Dean's eyes fluttered open at the sound of another's voice. He lifted his head and through his half closed eyes he could see Logan standing over him, dressed in a suit, with a briefcase at his side.

"Oh fuck you!"

A tried smirk tugged at Dean's lips as he watched Logan's features drop for a second, before going back to his usual harsh look. "What?"

"You wanna hear it again?" Dean shifted so he sat a bit straighter. "Fuck. You."

Logan stared back for a second, before he shook his head and stepped around Dean, who made no attempt to create space. "I'm not arguing with a junkie," He practically spat, though Dean didn't care. He'd been called much worse.

"Oh so you only fight with your boyfriend!" Dean called as Logan began walking down the staircase. The man stopped walking, and turned to face Dean, his lips in a tight line, eyes narrowed at Dean. "Cause you know he's not goin' t'hit back?" Dean spat

"What did you fucking say to me?"

With one hand on the wall Dean pushed himself to his feet, keeping most of his weight against the wall. He was sure he'd crumble without it. "I said, " Dean began, his fist clenching at his side, "you're an abusive son of a bitch."

"I'm going."

The other turned away, almost half way down the first flight of stairs when Dean once again stopped him. "You don't deserve him," Dean yelled.

Logan turned around, the exhaustion clear across his face. "Then who does?" Logan asked, his voice never raising or faltering, instead staying calm. Something that only made Dean's blood boil. "You? Some druggy?"

"At least I only ruinin' my own life."

"Tell that to your brother," Dean clenched his teeth. He was going to kill that man, and enjoy it. A smirk spread across Logan's face as even from a distance Dean could see the man clearly look him up and down. "Or your dad."