The next day, I awoke with a yawn and rubbed my eyes before looking around the room. I furrowed an eyebrow as I noticed Dean's bed empty. This meant that Dean was already up and about. That immediately struck me as weird. Dean was never the first up out of the two of us. Dean wasn't in the main room of the motel room either, but I could faintly hear the sound of his voice. Lifting my head off the pillow, I listened into the conversation that was taking place in the bathroom. I guessed that he was on the phone to someone.
"I don't know what to do Bobby. I walked in here yesterday and found him unconscious and bleeding to death on the bathroom floor. His arms were cut to shreds." I heard Dean explain.
"I know he's going through a rough time right now but he tried to kill himself yesterday and you want me to just sit back with my thumb up my ass while he gets tormented by the devil?"
"I thought he was over this Bobby..." Dean was referring to my teenage years when this was a daily act for me. I hated everything back then. School. Hunting. Dad. The life we had. So cutting was the way that I got through it all. Bobby found me out last time though. He was the one that tried to help me. Dean and Dad didn't understand. They just thought I was crazy, and Dad just shouted abuse at me about how 'selfish' i was being and how 'he had bigger problems to focus on' rather than having to deal with his suicidal son. Bobby wanted me to see a shrink, but Dad wouldn't have it. He said that it would be too risky in case I accidentally 'fucked up and couldn't keep my trap shut about what we actually do'.
"Just get here, Bobby." Dean hung up.
I quickly dropped back down on the pillow and closed my eyes pretending to be asleep.
The door of the bathroom could be heard swinging open before Dean walked back into the main room of the motel.
I opened my eyes once again.
"Sleeping beauty awakens." Dean smirked.
I pretended to yawn. "Shut up, Bitch!"
"Jerk." He smiled. "Bobby's coming round. He's been working a job a couple of miles out of town so he said he would stop by."
"So that has nothing to do with what happened yesterday?" I asked, dryly.
"Sam..." Dean began.
"I didn't try and kill myself. I know you think I'm one pill away from ending it all, Dean, but I'm not. Yesterday was a mistake. I cut too deep, that's all."
"Sam, I found you unconscious on the floor! Blood everywhere!" Dean's tone rose louder and anger was clearly present.
"I know, I'm sorry."
"Why didn't you tell me, Sam?" Dean asked, his tone as if he was judging me.
I glared at him. "Why didn't I tell you?" I stood up from the bed. "How about because I knew you'd react like this, like I'm some suicidal freak. Because you'd react like you did last time. These past few months since I got my soul back, you've been treating me like shit! You don't tell me anything, you don't let me in on plans...You certainly don't trust me!"
"So you turned to this?"
"Yes." I nodded. "I had no one else..." My voice cracked as I held back tears.
Dean just looked at me for a few seconds, before pulling me into a hug and wrapping his arms around me.
I leant into his hold as the tears came.
When he pulled away, his expression was soft and laced with guilt. "Sammy, you have to promise me, that you next time you feel like...you know...whatever you feel like before you..." Dean obviously didn't want to say the word. "That you will come to me. Please..." He practically begged. "I don't care if it's after we've had an argument, I don't care if it's 1AM in the morning, I don't care if I'm pissed at you...Come to me, and I'll get you through it. I'll help you, Sammy. I'll look after you..." He paused. "Please, you have to promise me you will."
I nodded. "I will, Dean."
Dean wiped away a tear.