Chapter Text
By Friday evening Dean had had a bad week. Albeit not the worst, not by far, but defiantly not one of the best. One reason, was the hunt he was working on for the past fortnight came to loggerheads this week. Due to the fact he helps his dad with the family business after school, as well as looking after and cooking for both Sam and his father. Dean has been both physically and emotionally exhausted for the past three weeks or so. This also explains why he was falling asleep in class, not doing homework and unfortunately not at his best when it came to one to one combat. The hunt was a tough one to break, so he began the week with bags under his eyes and by the middle of the week, due to his secret ‘job’ he had to go into school with a bust lip and a minor black eye.
Dean's confident cocky front at school meant his story about getting into a fight was plausible and no one questioned him about it, merely accepted it with a raised eyebrow or questioning glance. The end of his school week ended in a detention, luckily his dad was busy in the library on yet another hunt, a demon this time.
So John didn’t notice when both Dean and Sam returned to the motel room an hour late. Somewhere deep inside, that fact hurt the young hunter to think about, though he pushed it away and refused to acknowledge it. He fell asleep in his clothes on Friday simply too tired to change.
However all of that he could deal with and put it down to an average week. What really tipped the scale to a shit week; was when he woke Saturday morning to the sound his worst nightmares are made up of, Sam screaming. He rushed to his baby brother’s side, holy water and salt instantly in hand and a silver knife in his waist band. What he saw near enough broke his heart.
Their dad had Sam pinned to the wall by the throat, eyes darker than night as it smirked at the eldest son with his dad’s stolen lips. For the first time since he began to hunt Dean saw red, the ferocious passionate urge to protect the boy he brought up filled every part of his existence.
Somehow, Dean will never remember the exact events, the demon was sent back to hell, John was unconscious and Sam was sobbing in the corner to afraid to let Dean touch him. Without thinking of anything but the need to make Sam feel safe he poured holy water over his head. He pulled out his knife, causing his little brother to immediately flinch, fearing the worst, but instead Dean pulled up his sleeve and without a moment’s hesitation sliced the pale already scar filled inside skin of his left forearm. Instantly soaking his arm with blood. The blade was silver, Dean was human. Sam instantly threw himself into his brother’s arms and cried for an hour before he settled down, and looked up to the guy that would do anything to protect him, his big brother. It was clear Dean has shed a few tears as well. He had attempted to piece together the events in his head and merely realised just how close he was to watching his dad being forced to kill his brother. Of course Sam said nothing about his tear stained cheeks, merely smiled in thanks and got to his feet to fetch the first aid for Dean's arm. It wasn’t until Sam was across the room that he was able to take his eyes of his brother, only to notice the absence of his father.
Neither brother were aware when their dad regained consciousness, wrote a note and left the room, although there the note was, resting on Dean's pillow waiting to be read. He slowly got up and read it,
“He’s gone Sammy.” The younger boy spun around first aid kit in hand eyes wide.
“What?”
“‘I’m sorry boys, I have gone on a hunt for a few days to give you space. Take care of Sammy Dean.’” Dean read aloud, “Son of a bitch.” The boys were silent for a few beats taking it all in. Dean knew John wasn’t exactly the best father in the world. He did know though, that the man did his best, but even Dean couldn’t reason with this decision, running away. Giving us space? What the fuck, Dean thought. It wasn’t until Sam starting disinfecting Dean's wounded arm did the sting bring the boy out of his thoughts.
“It’s okay Dean, we don’t need him anyway.”
“Yeah. All we need is each other, right Sammy.” They smiled softly at each other. “Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
If Dean’s injury was sustained by anyone else, or in any other circumstance a hospital trip and stitches would have been necessary. That is something however that Dean would never allow. If he went to the hospital every time he needed too, major concerns would have been raised long ago. If only for the cuts he did himself to prove he was human, he probably would have been placed inside some ward or something for his own protection. So Sam patched his elder brother up to the best of his abilities, which for a 13 year old kid was rather impressive, this was something else that Dean hated to
dwell on.
Not all of his injuries but the amount Sam has seen and care for; the amount he has cleaned and stitched up using whisky, a needle and floss, it was verging on disturbing, he sometimes hated this life for Sam. The elder Winchester dreaded the day that it will be the other way around and it’s his baby brother’s blood he’s washing away, his brother’s skin he’s stitching, his Sammy’s pain he has to witness.
The incident of Sam’s near death experience wasn’t mentioned again, John leaving wasn’t mentioned either, the boys merely picked themselves up and got on, Sam with homework, Dean with dinner. As the teenager stirred the beans his mind was turning, anger for his father growing. It wasn’t that he was possessed, it couldn’t be helped. With their line of work is was always a risk, it wasn’t that he left. Dean has lost count of the number of times that John has left to hunt leaving the boys alone inside some dank dodgy motel. Dean was angry because he didn’t even see if Sam was okay before he left. He didn’t give the son he almost killed a hug, a shoulder pat or even a second glance before he hightailed it out of there. Dean didn’t voice these thoughts though; it would only serve to upset Sam, after what the kid had been through that day that was the last thing he wanted to do. He just sat at the table and watched Sam eat, thanking whoever was listening that he was still alive.
Dean didn’t eat, he couldn’t. He was also too worried to sleep that night, which meant by Sunday he was back to being exhausted. So that was his week, it was a bad week. Unfortunately for Dean, things were about to get a whole lot worse.
Monday rolled around all too soon after a rather slow Sunday of attempting to trace their father with no success, even Bobby had no idea. It was a small miracle they got to school on time, after the alarm had no success in waking Dean, Sam took it upon himself to wake his brother. He felt a little guilty knowing how little sleep Dean had been getting, but they were on a schedule and he had no choice.
Dean was sitting in English class subtly scratching the stitching on his arm, he knew it was because it was healing, that and the floss always irritated his skin but, needs must.
He also knew he should leave it alone but he just couldn’t. It wasn’t until he was leaving however when disaster struck. After the bell rang, it was lunch time, therefore every student suddenly started behaving like hungry wild animals. He was walking out still itching his arm when some stupid asshole barged into him, causing his nails to go deeper, and in turn rip the fragile stitching. He bit back a scream of pain, knowing exactly what happened he made his way as fast as he could to the bathroom before he bled all over the school corridor.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Dean hissed repeatedly to himself as he sat in the end stall pressing toilet roll to the wound in a fruitless attempt to stop the bleeding.
He was in there for the majority of lunch before giving up and making an emergency call to the only one that could help him. Minutes later a panting Sam came rushing through the door he had obviously ran straight here.
“Dean?” Sam asked confused and speaking to a seemingly empty bathroom
“Yeah.” Dean answered from the far stall.
“What’s the emergency?” Dean didn’t reply instead he shot Sam a quick text saying; we alone? “Yeah.” Sam replied out loud after a quick look around, rightly sounding confused with a hint of worry edging into his voice.
The elder boy took a breath before standing and unlocking the door, he appeared to his brother as completely normal at first; it wasn’t until he was standing in front of his older brother in the middle of the school’s bathroom that he noticed just what was wrong. Bloodied soaked toilet roll pressed to Dean’s arm.
“What did you do Dean?” Sam stuttered out, trying to keep calm, but instantly panicking.
“Pulled the stitches.” Dean spoke through a half smile as if it was not a big deal, in an attempt to put his brother at ease. Despite the throbbing pain beating in his arm.
“Why?!” He demanded as he stepped closer and removed the toilet paper Dean was holding to it.
“Well gee Sam, I thought it sounded like a fun thing to do. I didn’t do it on purpose. Help me out here!” Dean said as Sam was checking over the wound, the bleeding had stopped but it was red and looked painful.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Stitch it back up.” He answered like it was the sanest and most obvious thing in the world and Sam should know.
“With what?! We’re at school.”
“You don’t carry around emergency equipment?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Dean demanded, he needed Sam to be joking, if only for the sake of the prescription strength painkillers.
“Why don’t you?!”
“You are supposed to be the smart one.” Sam sighed looking around for something else to look at, he knew what his brother had to do, but he also knew he would hate the idea, but they had no other
options.
“Look Dean, that looks bad, you have to go to the nurse.”
“No.” He shot back instantly, no one was going to see his arm and make stupid accusations. Or assumptions
“Dean, it’s not going to get better on its own, you need some kind of dressing on it, at least.” Sam had a point but he refused to admit that, it was still a terrible idea, what would his explanation for a huge deep cut with dental floss attached to half of it be?
“And what will I say huh? Oh yeah I sliced my arm to prove to my brother I was human after my dad was possessed by a demon and tried to kill my brother? Yeah that will go down well.”
“You’ll think of something.” He assured his brother, which was true their whole life is made up of one lie after another. The bell signalling the end of lunch rang, the horrid screeching noise circled the
room and the two silent brothers staring at each other, both determined for separate things. “Look I have to get to class. The bell has just gone, meaning there shouldn’t be anyone in the corridor so no one will see. Please.” And without warning Sam turned on the puppy eyes, Dean hadn’t a chance in hell to say no.
“Fine, just go Sammy. Get to class.” He smiled at his elder brother in thanks before leaving for his next lesson. Dean was left alone in the bathroom for a few minutes just to make certain he would be alone when he made his maiden voyage to the school nurse. “Dammit.” He muttered before leaving the bathroom.
Dean approached the open door, eyeing the middle aged frizzy ginger nurse, working at her desk, making notes on a student. Dean stood there unnoticed for a few beats before clearing his throat and grabbing her attention.
“And what can I do for you?” she asked with a curious smile.
“I need supplies.” He tried to be as vague as possible, not wanting her to know anything.
“Excuse me?” he could see the confusion etched into her sharp features, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“Supplies, give me them.” She rose from her seat, eyes harsh as she tried to stare the boy down.
“Young man are you after drugs?” Dean got the impression this was not the first time this had happened, he was a little taken aback for a moment, before trying to explain himself.
“No, I need to dress my arm.” She visually relaxed at that and her smile returned.
“Oh well sit down and I’ll take a look.” She said as she stood and opened the door wider gesturing to the chair next to her desk.
“I don’t think so.” Dean replied shaking his head, but stepping into the room anyway, promising Sam he would and knowing just how much he needed the dressings or it would start bleeding again before the last bell of the day.
“What is your name?”
“Dean.”
“Well Dean, I am a fully trained nurse, sit down and I will help.” He knew the only way was to let her do it herself, not that he was happy about.
“Fine.” He huffed out sitting down and pulled up this sleeve.
“What happened?” she asked stepping closer, and gently holding his arm for a closer look. She seemed to be speaking in a quieter tone, like Dean was a rabbit and she was trying not to scare him or something, he gave a half shrug at the question before answering, going for nonchalance.
“The stitches ripped.” It was vague which was good, she didn’t need to know. The nurse took a closer look, reaching for the disinfectant wipes, then she stopped, frozen as she spotted the small amount of floss still left tied to his skin.
“Did, did you stitch this yourself?” shock and apprehension coated her voice.
“Yes.” No way was he going to tell her that it was Sam, no way in freaking hell.
“Is this dental floss?” she asked as she carefully removed it all from the wound. Dean didn’t answer but the fact that he couldn’t look her in the eye when she glanced at him answered her question.
“That is very dangerous, you should have gone to the hospital this is quite deep.”
“No, no hospital. I just need the dressing to last till school ends so I can deal with it then.” He told her sternly, she nodded as she began to clean to cut.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“No.” he answered immediately.
“When did you sustain this injury?” she asked, decided to get back to nursing him.
“Saturday.”
“Did you do this to yourself Dean?” He didn’t answer, he knew she knew, he didn’t need to say it. He thought it was a stupid question. She took the hint and continued to talk. “Right well, it’s been to long for real stitches so I'm going to clean it, put steri-strips on it to hold it together, then I’ll dress it with some iodine to keep it clean, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” He answered not really caring what she was doing as long as she did it fast so he could leave as quickly as he could.
“You have other scarring on your arm.”
“What’s your point?” he barked back, he was not getting into this.
“No point, just observing.”
“Well, don’t.” he felt a little guilty being so rude but he had to say something just to get her to shut up.
“There you go, all done.” She told the boy with a smile, he instantly pulled his sleeve back down. The nurse looked to Dean and waited until she had eye contact before continuing. “Dean, you don’t have to tell me why you did this, but I want you to come back in a few days so I can see how it is healing, okay?”
“Yeah sure, whatever.” He looked to the wall in an attempt to rid the room of its sudden tension. “Can I go?”
“Yes, take this with you.” She handed Dean a slip to explain he was with the nurse so he doesn’t get in trouble when he returns to class. He took it and left, he stopped at the door, turned and in the most sincere tone he could muster he looked to the nurse and said,
“Thank you.” She returned a small smile and nod before he left and she went back to writing notes, this time on Dean.
It wasn’t until the end of school the next day did his things really take a turn for the worse. He packed his bag and was just about to escape when his teacher, Ms Davis stopped him.
“Winchester, can you stay behind for a moment.” He sat back down at his desk, legs spread long in front of him and shot her a flirtatious half smile, he was ready to talk his way out of this one.
“If this is about the essay. I'm working on it.” He hasn’t started it yet, he hasn’t had time, but he’s had some ideas about what to put in it, so that’s got to count for something at least.
“No Dean, it’s not.” The boy was about to let out a thankful breath for avoiding the same old lecture, but didn’t have time before she spoke again. Her words made his stomach drop and twist instantly. “This is about you.”
“What did I do?” Ms Davis perched herself on the front of her desk, facing the Dean.
“Many teachers are becoming worried about your well-being.” She spoke carefully, not wanting to offend him but needing to make him understand.
“Excuse me?” no he thought, not happening, this cannot be happening.
“Your arm.” Ms Davis spelt it out to him otherwise she knew he would talk himself out of it.
“Listen sweetheart, there’s nothing wrong me.” Ms Davis resisted the sigh that was making its way up her throat. She knew this routine and, she could see straight through it.
“Look Dean, I have been a teacher for a long time. I have seen many students walk through these halls. Through my years here, I have learnt to tell when a student’s cocky, I don’t care attitude is a front. You’re hurting Dean and you are not alone. We can help.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Dean shot back, he felt like a toddler being scalded, he hated this. She thought he was some sad emo freak, he wasn’t. He was a fucking hero.
“The school nurse came to me, worried for you.” He might have known she wouldn’t keep her mouth shut. “I have seen this many times Dean. So I won’t be calling your father, it can cause more problems than it can solve.”
“Thanks.” He told her, if she had of called him both Sam and himself would be screwed. They would find out John had left, and that they’re living out of a motel room, alone.
“But I have made you an appointment at the school counsellor tomorrow after school.”
“What?”
“And you will be going.” She sounded so certain, like she’s done this many times, but Dean was certain too. He was not going to a fucking shrink.
“Hell no.” He got up to leave, deciding it was enough; he had nothing else to say.
“If you do not attend, I will know if you don’t. I will have no choice but to call you father, for your own good.” What the fuck?! He thought, he felt trapped, he didn’t know what he was going to do, all he knew for certain was for the sake of Sam they could not call his dad.
“You can’t call him.” words rushed and unintentionally mixed with fear.
“Then you go to your appointment tomorrow.”
“I can’t, I gotta take my little brother back after school.” He attempted to reason with her; just the thought of doing what she has suggested makes him feel a little sick.
“What do you do when you have a detention?”
“He goes into geek mode in the library.” He answered honestly; Sam really was a little nerd.
“Right, well tell him, you have a detention. I’ll even write you a detention card. Something tells me he won’t have much trouble believing it.” He couldn’t argue with that, the boy has lost count of the number of detentions he has received. He hovered by the door as he watched his teacher write out the detention form “I'm doing this for you Dean.” She told him as she handed it over, he snatched it off her, pissed that he couldn’t think of a way out of it.
“Yeah sure.” He mumbled to himself before turning and storming down to corridor towards the car park.