Mending- a sequel to Broken Masks

Chapter four

𝑌𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑠 𝐼'𝑚 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠'𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑖 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑠ℎ.
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑠....
𝐿𝑚𝑎𝑜 𝐼 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑦'𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑢𝑝 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 🥺🖤
𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

Dean was losing his mind.
Not that he was surprised, of course.

He'd never been a genius to begin with, even before barely attending school half the time from nine years old, or at all from about fourteen and dropping out of high school altogether at barely seventeen.
He'd never compared to Sam in intellectual matters.
He'd been near death several times and drunk, high or both more times than he could count.

But this- this was trippy on a whole different level.
Dean wanted to shake his head, see if it would clear his thoughts and let him start to make sense of what was really happening.

Except the one thing he knew for sure was that Sammy currently lay sleeping on his chest.
So Dean lay stock still, concentrating on keeping his breathing steady and not disturbing his baby brother.

But his mind was whirling.
What the hell had happened?
He focused hard, attempting to make sense out of the blurry, chaotic half memories that filled his head.

It was nearly impossible to distinguish what was real and what wasn't.
What the hELL, he repeated mentally.
There was so much going on.

Dean's mind felt strangely fuzzy.
It vaguely reminded him of the after affects from a pill bottle - a damn expensive one- that he'd obtained (and taken in one sitting) a month before his reunion with Sammy.

Sammy- terrible, insanely clear images filled his mind.
He'd seen Sammy die - over and over, never been able to stop it, never able to save his little brother.
Cautiously, with a gentleness he hadn't used in years, Dean lay his right hand on Sammy's hair.

He had to be sure this was real- that Sam was here, with him- safe.
The sick images in his head of watching his little brother die were so vivid, so real.
Dean kept his hand firmly on Sammy's head as he forced himself to look at them.

Different places, different ways- there had to be some similarity.
Something was there, nagging at the back of his mind.
Dean finally realized the common denominator in every horrifying situation.

It had always been his fault.

The kid had never stopped calling Dean's name, alternately screaming for help or cursing him.
Honestly, Dean wasn't sure which was worse.

Just the memory of all that trauma was enough to set his heart pounding at an alarming rate.
A violent tremor ran through his body and cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

He needed to cut- needed it desperately.
Or else he was going to completely freak out right here in this damn hospital bed.

And that couldn't happen because if it did the sweet eyed doctor would probably have another serious, hushed conversation with Sammy.
Dean had already overheard two of those so knew what it would entail- the doctor would tell the kid that Dean needed serious help.

She'd drop a lot of technical stuff that Sammy would understand but to Dean it only meant one thing.
Failure.
He had failed Sammy again.

His little brother hadn't done anything to deserve all this shit.
But that wouldn't stop the kid from taking it to heart and feeling even worse about himself.

Sam had been trying to keep his game face on but Dean knew him better then anyone else in the universe.
He could see straight through the facade of calm support, past the buried worry and fear - all the way down to the terrified little boy who blamed himself for everything.

Sam had never been able to lie convincingly to Dean- not that he'd tried often- but just for this time the older Winchester pretended not to see what was really going on.
If Sam knew that Dean knew, that he saw everything Sammy was trying to hide, that his biggest regret was letting the kid see how fucked up he really was- Sammy would be heartbroken.
Even more so than he already was.

So the last thing he could afford was breaking down again- losing it again.
Dean focused every ounce of his remarkably strong will on staying calm.

Everything in him was screaming to cut- cut now- and he trembled again despite his best efforts.
He gently moved his right arm from where it rested on Sammy's hair, fantasizing about grabbing the dagger he knew would be stashed in the kids right pocket on his inner coat like always.
It would be so easy.

In fact, Dean didn't know a lot about his condition because he'd been out most of the time the past few days but he was willing to bet in this state that it wouldn't take much to finally finish the job.

"Dean- Dean!"
As if hearing his thoughts Sam shot bolt upright, his wide eyes fixed on his brothers face.

"Dean- oh my god, you look like crap.
I- I was so fucking scared, man-"

Dean forced a smile for his little brother's sake. Unfortunately it must not have been very convincing because Sam still looked painfully worried.
And tired- he looked almost as tired as Dean felt.
Nope, this wasn't it.
Sammy wasn't allowed to look that broken and exhausted.

"Heya Sammy."
Dean lay the smirking arrogance on extra thick for his little brother's sake.

Instead of the hoped for answering smile, Sam's face crumpled.
He threw himself back onto Dean's chest as a drowning man throws himself onto a buoy. Dean could hardly breath as Sam held him tight, but he didn't care.

"I'm here, man.
I'm right here."

Sam didn't answer for a moment, and if the warm moisture now seeping into Dean's shirt was any indication the kid was crying.

"I'm right here," he muttered soothingly.

"Butch and - and Sundance, right?"
Sammy's voice was raw and hoarse when he finally spoke.

Dean couldn't answer right away.
If there was any option where he could end it right now without hurting Sammy anymore, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Dean was poison.
He knew it.
He knew how his story ended- bloody.

Growing up, they had always known that's how they would go out.
But recently something had changed, and Dean's heart sank as he finally realized the truth.

There was no way in hell he was dragging Sammy down with him.
They wouldn't go down together because the kid wasn't going down, period, not for a damn long time.

"Dean?"
The pain and fear in Sammy's voice was a dagger in Dean's heart.
So he smiled again, pulled his little brother closer with his good arm.
"Nothing like that will ever happen again.
I promise, Sammy."