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

Seven Days

Okay, I'm sorry this took so long to post, but I wanted this one to be perfect. For the first time in a good minute I have been really feeling this story line again and I'm proud of this chapter. Like a lot. I don't know, let me know what you all think!

Please, please, please favorite and comment! Thank you for reading!! I love you guys!

Also, if you're ever in a crisis or struggling with anything, please text GO to 741741. It's a crisis response thing but over text!! Which is awesome if you don't like talking on the phone. These guys are SO nice. I've texted them a lot, and they've helped me stay clean for quite a few months now. They're just awesome!

Thanks again guys! <3

The silence was impenetrable. There was only the hum of the paused DVD player hanging in the air. She almost wished there was a spirit nearby to mess with the sound or lights around them, if only to break the tension. Instead it was just Dean's thumb rubbing in between her shoulders and the hard beat of her heart behind folded up arms. There was his Old Spice smell, but there was no whiskey and no smell of smoke. They hadn't burned anything (or anyone) in a while and it left a strange clinging scent of detergent on his clothes that probably hadn't been there since he'd bought them.

Dean could feel her heartbeat through her back, and he didn't think she realized she was holding her breath, but she hadn't inhaled in over fifteen seconds. Dean was working on keeping his breath even and slow in case she started panicking so she would be able to match his breathing and stay calm, even though he wanted to flip the chair over and storm out of the room. Smooth breathing and soft thumb strokes, he reminded himself. She was so small in his arms, curled into a tight ball against him with every muscle in her body tensed as though she was afraid of an ambush. He applied some pressure with his thumb to press out a knot he could feel, then stopped so she didn't think he was pushing because he was upset with her or something.

The words were sinking in the air. It felt like Casey could almost see them. She wished Dean would say something, but he was quiet. He was listening. Whether or not it was to her or to the silence in the room, she couldn't tell, but she could tell he was listening. He was absorbing everything that surrounded them, subconsciously committing it to his memory, burning every detail of this moment into his mind. Casey had to say something. She owed him an explanation, and he was obviously going to wait for her to speak first.

"I did it this morning. I didn't mean to, honestly. I was... I was in my room after I woke up. You know, just staring at the ceiling all quiet? And all of a sudden, everything that was going on just hit me. And I felt like the biggest disappointment in the entire world. It made my throat hurt, you know? All this weight, all this pressure to get better so we can get out of the bunker and start working again got to me. So I just... cut," she explained. It wasn't completely forthcoming, she knew, but if he needed to know something else he could always ask.

Dean was quiet in case she had something more to say. He didn't think they were pressuring her to get better. She was supposed to be taking her time. Get better at her own pace until she actually felt ready enough to go out again. The last thing any of them wanted was for her to pretend to get better so they could resume normalcy and then have her snap and do something even worse than cutting.

But she didn't say anything else after a minute, so Dean figured that meant he should speak, although he didn't have any clue of what to say. "You don't have to rush, kid. We want you to take as much time as you need." It was all he could think of, the complete truth.

Casey pulled back in order to look at her brother. She felt sad when his arms had to let her go, but she needed him to see her face. She needed him to understand. "But I do have to rush. Sitting here like this, it's driving all of us crazy. Which means I have to get better as fast as possible. But, from what I can tell, that doesn't work. Because we're a week in and I already screwed up. If I can't even handle a week...." Casey's thoughts trailed off as she remembered exactly how much of a failure she truly was. An addict. She couldn't even hold off cutting herself for a week. That was pathetic. And how desperate and insane did she have to be to somehow find a way to cut while still under constant supervision? She'd looked at an incognito tab on Sam's laptop earlier in the week to find ways to self harm if she couldn't get her hands on a real blade. Her own brother's laptop. While he sat right across the room. She could have easily told him she was having a bad time, having urges, and been helped through them, but she couldn't even do that right. She snuck so she could figure out how to betray her brothers. She had this wonderful, supportive, loving little family and she was too conniving to ask for their support, even though they'd been stretching themselves thin to make sure she had it within a moment's notice.