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

I really messed up, Sam

It had been hours since they'd eaten. Casey was never really sure why she'd always think Chinese buffets sounded good. They sounded wonderful in theory, but every time she'd gone to one the food was just dry and disappointing and usually tasted or looked like they'd been sitting out for far longer than the FDA would be okay with.

Casey flopped down heavily onto the motel bed at twelve-thirty in the morning. She knew it didn't make sense to be tired, considering she'd just spent 13 hours sitting in a car, but her legs felt like jello, and laying starfished out on a bed (that she knew was crappy in reality) was heavenly. If the brothers asked her to hop back into the Impala even just to grab some drinks at a gas station she thought she might cry. I'd rather die of dehydration than get back into that thing tonight, she thought.

"Scoot over. You know the drill. Pick a bed, any bed!" Dean said in his best magician voice and dropped his duffle in the triangle between her arm and leg.

Casey grimaced. "How come I never get to sleep in my own bed? Why can't you two share a bed for once?

Sam and Dean looked at each other. Dean spoke first. "Because he's about ten stories tall and I'm about eight."

"Yeah," Sam interjected, "Also, he smells terrible. Whereas you smell like that dollar store cotton candy perfume you carry around. It's a little nauseating, sure, but it's better than Dean's armpit stank any day." Sam winked at you and you stuck your tongue out at him.

"I'll sleep in this bed tonight." She did not feel like moving.

"Yes!" Sam punched both his fists in the air and almost hit the ceiling. Casey was almost positive that if he struck it that the ceiling would not be able to hold up and the tenants above would fall in on them. And she did not want to even consider thinking about what they could be doing in such a seedy motel. Casey was also pretty sure that if she'd had a black light she would run out of the room screaming and drive Dean's baby away herself, jello legs be damned.

"Really feelin' the love there, Sammy," she said dryly.

Sam's face turned red. "You know what I meant. I don't- I mean I meant that- uh.. I'm ten stories tall! I need my own bed!" he stumbled out, gripping his head with both hands in frustration.

Casey grinned. "Cool it, SamBam. I'm just picking on you." Sam gave her a frustrated look.

"Well, I for one love my little Casey Wacy, don't I, Cassandra?" Dean leaned in close to her face and ruffled up her hair with one hand.

Casey smiled widely at him, inhaled deeply, and blew an obnoxious, wet raspberry right in his face. "It's Casey, thank you very much."

Dean was not amused in the least bit and wiped his face with his hand to smear off whatever spit on it onto Casey's hoodie. "Anyway, brat, I saw a bar a couple blocks away. Easy walking distance and it's nice out. Wanna get some food? I could go for a couple beers after that drive."

Casey shrugged. "I think I'll stay here. Catch up on some non-cable TV, you know?"

Dean nodded and turned towards Sam.

"No, thanks. I've got some cases I want to research. Free wi-fi here too."

"Suit yourself. I'll see you guys in about five shots and a Miller. Call if you need anything." Dean tossed the car keys on the bed in case the two needed to run out to grab something and walked out, closing the door tightly. Completely unconcerned.

"Will do, captain!" She saluted to no one. Casey's heart started to race. Neither of them had eaten in ten or so hours. She was sure he would go out with Dean. Sam always had a beer after a long drive. Why didn't he go with? She knew why he didn't go with, which was truly the worst part. He wanted to talk. Casey's stomach tightened and she pushed her face down into the mattress, praying that Sam wouldn't see her escalating breathing. This couldn't happen. She couldn't talk about this. It was private. Her body, her choice, right? That's what everyone said, right? What she did to her body was her own damn business. Sam had no right, not a single right, to ask questions or yell at her about any of it. It was private, and Casey intended to keep it that way.