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

Vulnerable (plus summary of last chapter)

She sat on the toilet with her arms wrapped around her torso awkwardly. Neither of them knew what to say. She wished she'd brought shorts so she could just lift up the bottoms. She mostly wished the entire situation wasn't happening, but obviously it was, so she wished for shorts instead.

Sam stood in the doorway and shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Uh, do you wanna do your shirt first, I guess?"

Her eyes welled up so quickly she didn't have any time to stop the tears from escaping. She nodded and wiped her cheeks with her sleeve. She took off her sweater and handed it to Sam. "Um, Casey?" She looked up at her brother. He towered over her. "Can I, uh, have your knife, please?" She whimpered but reached to her back and pulled it from her belt. There would be no keeping that on her always anymore. There was no point in pretending otherwise. She knew she had to give it to him herself or he would take it from her, and she really didn't feel like putting up another fight that she knew she would lose anyway. She set it in his palm carefully, making sure she didn't cut him on accident, and he walked out into the rest of the room. He was giving her space to take off her shirt and probably to hide her dagger. She was glad he'd left. Being forced to take off your shirt was one thing, but having to be watched while taking it off would be even worse.

Sam wasn't sure what to do with her knife. He looked around the room and finally settled on one of the smaller pockets in Dean's backpack. His own would've worked just as easily, but it was more predictable. There would be almost no reason for her to dig around in Dean's if she was looking for it. Although ideally she would never look for it again.

He wrapped the knife in a motel hand towel that was stolen a ways back and tucked it in. He then leaned against the bathroom wall and waited for Casey to say something. She was scared, and this was embarrassing for both of them. He'd never thought he would have to worry about having to check his sister for self-inflicted wounds. Sam was scared too. He would never even dream of judging Casey, although he knew that's a lot of what she was so terrified of. He wasn't disgusted or ashamed, just worried about her. He wanted to make sure she was okay, and if this is what it took then they were both going to suck it up and do whatever unpleasantness that was required.

God, he was so scared. He contemplated calling Cas for a moment to just heal her entire body so neither of them had to deal with this awkward situation. Eventually he decided against it because he knew she didn't want anybody to know. He wasn't planning on telling Dean originally, but then she ran away. He was so frustrated and he knew Casey had a different level of respect for his brother. She'd never admit it, but Sam knew she saw Dean almost as a father figure rather than a brother. He'd been around way more than John had and always babied her. She felt safe around both brothers and knew either of them would jump in the line of fire for her sake, but somehow it was a little bit different with Dean. Sam didn't mind that though. She appreciated Sam as a brother and her best friend rather than a brother and a somewhat-parent.

Sam cracked his knuckles. It had been a few minutes, much longer than what was necessary to just take off a shirt, but he wasn't going to push her. He also was trying to figure out what to do about her knew cuts. She wouldn't have destroyed her shirt unless they really needed wrapping. That's what really scared him.

He was pulled out of his head when he heard a very meek "okay" come from the bathroom. He sucked in a breath, made sure his face showed only love and concern, and walked into the bathroom to see his little sister perched on the edge of the tub wrapped in a towel. He was alarmed for a second until he noticed her bra straps were still on her shoulders. He was worried about her of course, but not to the point where he was going to make her get completely bare.

"I, um, thought this would be easier or faster or something," she mumbled. She refused to look up at Sam because now he could see her entire arm. Her shoulders always reminded her of a million zebras running together because it was impossible to tell where one scar ended and another began. The tops of her thighs were just as bad. Everything was raised. Casey almost believed that if a soldier touched them they would think it was morse code. She was so disgusted in herself, and now Sam had to see that side of her. She hadn't even looked underneath her make-shift clean up job yet and she already knew it was bad news. Sam was going to be pissed about those. Casey decided she would just have to take care of them herself.