Title: Dean’s Journal
Author: Bj Jones
Rating: FRM
Summary: Series of Journal Entries – Dude seriously. Do I look like I’m 13… and a girl? Series: Sam’s Journals (Written by Timothy Quinn)
***
Sam suggested I write out my feelings…
Like I’m some teen girl with a pink glittery ‘dear diary’, writing crap like ‘he looked at me today oh my god so going to die!!!!!!!!’
Dude seriously. Do I look like I’m 13… and a girl?
At least its a cool leather journal, and it doesn’t have a pathetic cheap lock. More of a leather strap…
Wonder if I could tie Sam up with it?
As I was saying at least the ‘journal’ see ‘journal’ not Diary – any one calls it a Diary I’m kicking their ass, twice for good measure.
It’s been Warded and I drew a devil’s trap on it, plus put this really cool Metallica sticker on it. Now it doesn’t look so geeky its kinda butch. I have an image to uphold after all.
Oh and Sammy boy just in case you try to sneak a peak I put a small spell on it. What the spell is I won’t be tellin’, but I will know. So stay out you bitch.
Why am I actually writing in this thing?
Because… I went to hell. Yeah you read that right. Hell. As in fire and brimstone. The pit. Hell.
Its worse that anything you can imagine.
Take your worse nightmare, wrap it up in your worst fears, and tie a bow on it with your worse doubts and you might start to understand what is hell is really like.
I don’t know how long I was there. Time is different. Slow yet fast. I would be tortured for days only to find it was only minutes. Seconds would pass only to find out it was months. I was pulled in kicking and screaming and dragged out the same way. The last thing I saw was Sam pinned to the wall, screaming my name as Lilith taunted him. The first thing I saw when I opened them was Sammy’s face desperation written all over it.
He said I was gone for only moments.
To me it was a lifetime.
It doesn’t really matter how long in the end it changed me.
When I went in I was Dean Winchester: hunter, cocky son of a bitch, soldier, loyal son, devoted brother, and I believed that in the end good would prevail.
Now…
I don’t know who I am.
All I know as I sit here in the passenger seat of my girl as Sam drives, is that my name is Dean Winchester: wounded soldier, broken brother and I know that good does not prevail.
But Sammy wants me to write my feelings down. So I will.
If you are reading this, if you don’t understand anything that is written here, understand this.
I do this for Sammy.
I do everything for him.
I sold my soul for him.
I survived for him.
I will live again for him.
Why?
Because I love him.
~ Signed
D.W.
July 15, 2008
***
I fucking hate this.
Another damn nightmare. I woke up drenched in sweat. Screaming. Except nothing came out.
I felt Sammy’s hand on my arm and I jerked away from him, falling out of the bed. He tried to comfort me, but… I just can’t.
Have I mentioned I hate this? All of this?
I’m always hot… Can’t get comfortable. Can’t sleep.
I hate Hell.
Then again who really likes it? I understand Ruby…
Wait. I did not just write that? I so need to burn this now.
You see the thing is, I’m supposed to comfort Sammy from nightmares not the other way around.
And yet here I sit on the other bed and stare over this journal thing as Sam pretends to be asleep. He’s beating himself up because he doesn’t know how to fix me.
I don’t know how to fix me.
He thinks this journal stuff will help. And in a way it has, though I’ll die before admitting that ‘exploring my feelings’ actually has merit. Great. Next thing I’ll be listening to Dido or something as equally painful.
All I want is to crawl back into that bed.
But I can’t.
I … don’t know how to ask for anything.
Dad didn’t teach me that particular trait.
Take care of Sammy. Protect Sammy.
Fight the good fight son.
I remember a time when I would run into my parents room and mom would hold me tight, humming softly until I went back to sleep.
It shouldn’t be hard.
I should just be able to walk across the few feet between here and there and crawl into bed. Sammy would pull me into his arms and hold me tight, he’d whisper that everything would be okay and I’d cling to him and believe him.
Yet I still sit here.
Alone. In the dark. Scared.
I fucking hate this.
~ Signed
D.W.
July 24, 2008
***
Damn it all to hell!
Fuck, Sammy.
Why won’t you tell me? I need to know. Don’t you understand that? How can I protect you if I don’t know what the fuck you did to get me out?
I don’t want to wake up a year from now and have you gone.
I don’t want to have a Hunter show up at our door step and try to kill you, because you went all ‘evil’ or shit.
I don’t…
I don’t want you to know what this is like. I would spend thousands of years in hell to save you that pain.
It hurts to even slightly think about it.
You don’t understand. I didn’t care. My life…?
It’s nothing if it means you did something undeniably stupid.
And I know you.
Better than you think I do.
By not telling me, you think you’re sparing me from what ever guilt I would feel.
Well guess what Sammy boy?
I feel guilty anyway.
Because no matter what you did, I know you did something, gave up a part of who you are to save me.
You were supposed to go on; live your apple pie life you so crave.
Meet a pretty girl. Have lots of litte Sammys. One of them was to be named after their cool Uncle Dean because really there has to be at least one cool Winchester. Have that house with the white picket fence and the mutt from the Pound. Of course knowing you – that’s the one you would have named Dean.
But instead of all that you sit there on your computer typing away staring at me like I’m going to break.
I surived hell asshole, I’m not going to break.
Damn it Sammy just the fuck tell me…
~ Signed
D. W.
August 2, 2008
***
I left Sammy.
I’m just a burden to him.
He suggested we take a small hunt. Something to work out my twitchiness – his words not mine.
I don’t twitch.
It was supposed to be a simple salt and burn.
Wasn’t even hard.
Some bitch had been murdered by her boyfriend and was seeking revenge on every guy that crossed her path.
Found the grave, dug her up, and just as we were ready to burn the bitch, she screamed and came right at us.
I completely froze.
I could only hear the screams of lost souls in hell, seeking redemption, begging for mercy.
Feel the pain of the chains…
The rip of skin as the Hellhounds…
…when suddenly Sam knocked me down and patted down my legs.
I blinked and looked up at him in shock. I backed away from him.
And the first time in my life I ran.
I left him in the graveyard…screaming my name.
I knew what I had to do. I was no good to Sammy.
How can I protect him if I can’t even handle a simple salt and burn?
Left my girl’s keys on the counter. Sammy would take good care of her; it was the least I could do for him.
I grabbed my bag and headed to the nearest bus terminal.
I don’t know why I kept the journal…I stood over the trashcan for ten minutes staring at it.
They called my bus and I put it back in my pocket and boarded.
I have no idea where I’m going…just north. Somewhere cool. I really don’t like the dry climate’s anymore. Too hot.
This is for the best.
Maybe if I keep telling myself that I’ll believe it.
~ Signed
D.W
August 24, 2008
***
I’m cold. Well it’s an improvement from being hot all the time.
I’m not sure which is worse.
I’ve kept moving. I know if I stop too long Sam will find me. He’s a persistent bitch when he wants to be. Hence the whole me being in bumfuck North Dakota instead of hell.
All I’ve seen these past days is Bus Stops. Truck Stops. Rest Stops.
I’ve hitched.
Begged.
Bought my way North.
If I go any further North I’ll have to start singing ‘O Canada’.
I have to keep going. Sammy doesn’t know when to let go.
Understatement of the year.
Right now I’m sitting in the spare bedroom of Granny Smith’s.
Not kidding, her name is actually Granny Smith. And she makes the best apple pie.
The last ride tossed me out when I told him I would rather fuck a bear then blow him. As I began the 20 mile hike to the nearest town I stumbled upon her and her sweet ride. An actual ’66 cherry red Mustang. It had given out on her, so I took a look under the hood. Poor gal just had a few spark plugs loose.
Fixed her right up and began on my way.
Before I knew it I was sitting at her dining room table with a hot meal and pie.
She rattled on about her late husband, and her kids who never come to see her.
She was lonely. And so was I.
I stayed for a few days. Did some repairs around the house. Made sure she had enough wood for the winter.
She knows I’m leaving.
I have to…
I can feel him. I know he’s coming
Like I knew the Hellhounds were coming
But instead of listening for the piercing howl of the dogs, my ear strains for the sounds of the deep purr of my girl…
~ Signed
D.W
September 6, 2008
***
Well at least my nose has stopped bleeding, but Sammy’s going to be pissed I got blood on the journal…
I miss him.
It’s hard to sleep at night.
The bed is so cold and lonely without him.
I wake up from nightmares seeking his warmth and finding nothing but cold.
I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. Sam is not here, and I just have to suck it up.
He doesn’t need my crap weighting him down. I’m too fucked up. I’ll just make it worse on him in the long run.
* Note to self – avoid the mirror for a while. I look like I went a dozen rounds with Yogi Bear.
And lost.
Stupid rednecks and their stupid hillbilly bar.
All I wanted was a beer.
That skank was the one practically riding my leg.
Normally yeah, I would have done her in the back ally – fucked her till she screamed.
Not sure if Sammy changed me or if it was hell, but I wasn’t even remotely interested. She was too short, smelled like cheap perfume, and was too much of a girl.
Who knew not fucking the bar skank in some back woods town would get me jumped in the parking lot?
I didn’t go down easy.
Yeah I might be a bit fucked in the head right now, but Daddy Winchester taught his boys to fight rough and dirty.
I’ve got a black eye, bruised nose, and sore knuckles. But I think I knocked the tooth out of Jim Bob and Big Joe’s going to the hospital.
Which meant I was on the next bus out of town.
Got to keep moving.
Keep on the road.
One step ahead of Sam.
He’ll figure it out.
He has to. For his sake…
Fuck Sam, just let me go.
~ Signed
D.W.
September 15, 2008
***
Yeah I still got it.
I’m a badass.
Fucking bastard didn’t see it coming. Dug him up, salted and burned those bones.
Fucking sadist.
Some small town in Ohio…
The last person I hitched with had family in the area. Told me all about the horrid case and then the weird shit that was going on.
Harold was the local nice guy. Everyone loved him. He loved everyone.
Come to find out he loved their kids even more.
Once it had gotten out – local good citizens decided a trial was useless and strung him up.
I really can’t see a problem with that, but I can hear Sam bitching about vigilante justice and no wonder Harold was still roaming the streets of good ol’ Valley Banks, Ohio.
Harold was a sick fuck simple as that.
His ghost didn’t go after the ‘local good citizens’ but the children.
It wasn’t hard to find his grave. Guess I was lucky they didn’t already do something to it.
He came at me… I didn’t freeze just smirked and dropped the match.
Hope he enjoys hell.
Been there, and let me say Harold deserves it.
Not sure how that makes me feel…
Ah Shit!
Damn this journal!
Damn Sammy!
I wouldn’t have cared less if Harold got his ass sent to hell. He deserved fire and brimstone and the Hellhounds…
Fuck! Now I’m all conflicted and its Sammy’s fault for making me think and feel and write… Why I haven’t thrown this fucking thing away is beyond me.
It’s been three weeks since I took off. And I can still feel him behind me.
I’m not sure if I want him to catch me or not.
When Harold went up in smoke I turned to make some comment to Sam and he wasn’t there.
It felt hollow and wrong.
All my life it was about protecting Sammy.
Everything I did.
Everywhere I went there was Sammy.
I was empty those four years that I will not discuss.
I fucking sold my soul so I wouldn’t be without him, and now I’m sitting alone in some rat infested hell hole disguised as a hotel.
Alone.
But I keep going. Why?
Because I’m fucked. I go back, I have to face it all. On the road I just keep going.
Keep running.
I’m seriously going to have to burn this fucker one day.
It holds too many secrets.
~ Signed
D.W.
September 21, 2008
***
I’m sitting on a bus heading East.
I think.
There was another salt and burn in the last town. A bit tougher going down than good ol’ Harold. Really could have used Sammy, but he’s close.
I can feel it.
It’s like radar or some shit. My skin itches like I’m going to jump right out of it.
I’m constantly on the look out for my girl – straining to hear her purr.
I know now he’ll find me. I’ve always known. We’re not good apart. Never have been. Don’t know why I thought I could run from him…us.
This lumbering old crate makes me miss my girl, but there’s not many poor souls on board.
Couple of college kids.
Some tourists.
And a few others I’m not sure about, nor do I want to know about.
Next town I get to I’m going to look about getting a ticket to New York.
Big City. Lots of people. Fucked up soul like mine can hide there. No one looks at faces or pasts as long as you stay out of their way.
What the fuck? It can’t be!
No way could he know I’m on this bus. Not today.
The roar is getting louder…
Stay calm just keep writing.
Its not Hellhounds, just the Impala bringing your very pissed off brother.
Shit, Hellhounds might be nicer at the moment…
I’m fucked.
There’s no way off this bus.
Damn it all to hell!
The roar is loud as she flies by the window. She looks good – her sleek black body shining in the sun as her engine growls.
Maybe he doesn’t know I’m on this bus?
Well, shit. There went that theory. I could hear the brakes squealing on my girl.
Sammy if you so much as put a scratch on her!
I’m tempted to yell at the driver to just keep on going, but that would mean hitting…
The bus has stopped.
Shit.
Sammy.
And he looks pissed.
~ Signed
D.W.
September 24, 2008
***
Well not only is my face sore, but so’s my ass.
Sam did a brilliant job dragging me off that bus in front of everyone, claiming I was some deranged criminal.
The bastard even handcuffed me.
Bitch.
I couldn’t break his grip. There’s finger size bruises wrapped around my upper arm. They match the ones on my hip and wrists.
Kinky bastard.
By the time we got off the bus he was growling at me.
I pulled free of him and told him to just leave it alone. He was better off without me.
He didn’t like that – hence the bruise on my cheek.
By morning I’m going to look like a battered spouse.
He pushed me into the Impala and left the bus in her dust. He wouldn’t even uncuff me until we pulled up to some motel.
He checked us in then dragged me into the room.
You know that whole leader of the demon army? I never really got it. He’s Sammy. My little brother. Puppy eyes – double decaff froufrou drink. We can’t shoot innocents cause that would be bad, Dean.
Now?
I get it.
He scared me.
But God I was so turned on.
I was hard in my pants and wanting nothing but for him to bend me over and fuck me.
Which he did.
Then it was like it clicked off.
He was my Sammy. Gentle and loving…
A long hot shower.
Him on his knees, my cock in his mouth.
God how could I have left this? Him? My Sammy…
We made love through the night, re-learning each other’s bodies, making our claims on each other.
I’m sitting up in the bed writing this as he sleeps. He doesn’t look like he slept much this last month.
And I know that’s my fault.
I can’t run anymore.
I have to face this.
All of it.
And I can only do that with him by my side.
But at the moment I’m going to put this down and curl up into him and let him keep the nightmares away.
~ Signed
D.W.
September 25, 2008
***
Sammy took good care of my girl. She’s all tuned up and running smoothly. No scratches or dents.
Gave her a good wash and wax.
We’re heading nowhere, at least at the moment.
Just us, my girl and the highway.
We’re far from fine, but right now we’re okay.
I still wake up with fear gripping me, the feel of chains against my skin, darkness assaulting my senses.
The blankets too restricting. Too hot.
But I don’t run to the other bed now.
That’s an improvement right?
Sammy pushes the covers to our feet, and lays me back down on to the bed.
He hums metallica into my ear, rubbing his hand up and down my stomach until I fall back asleep.
And in the morning I find myself curled into his arms.
And I’m actually willing and ready to face another day.
It’s not over.
And I doubt it will ever be.
But when I wake up safe and secure in Sammy’s arms, I know one day we’ll be more than okay.
~ Signed
D.W.
October 3, 2008
***
I’m not seeing the big deal.
It’s really just a large hole in the ground.
Sammy is quite proud of himself, manipulating our route until we just somehow ended up at the Grand Canyon.
Say one thing in a chick flick moment about wanting to see the Grand Canyon, and my Sammy drives us all the way out there just so I can see it.
I’m going to have to be more enthused.
Okay it’s cool.
The power of nature and stuff.
But it was never the Grand Canyon. It was just the whole idea of going somewhere with Sam and not hunting.
I’m a hunter.
I will always be one. Even Hell won’t change that.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to live my life.
Nowadays I want to live it even more so.
That includes a geeky trip to the Grand Canyon. Sam bought a guide book and wants to do some hikes and maybe even camping.
Hell, the ground is probably more comfortable than some of those hotel beds.
He’s rambling on about some Indian site.
I’m just smiling and nodding like I have a clue what he’s going on about.
He’s smiling.
Makes me smile.
Makes me feel like…
…the old Dean.
So I call him a Bitch he responds with Jerk.
I bump into his side, he bumps back.
But there is a difference.
Now, I pull him close and kiss him deeply here in the open for all to see.
You want to be a bigot and say I’m going to hell?
Well honey been there done that…
There’s a haunting a few towns over.
Once we do the geek tourist thing, we’ll do what we do best…
But for now I’m going to sit here and listen to Sammy telling me all about the Ashanti Indian’s like I have no idea who they are…
Cos dude really, I told him this story when he was a kid.
~ Signed
D. W.
October 29, 2008
***
I used to love the heat of the flames.
Get entranced by the dancing fire.
Now?
I throw a match in the grave and walk away.
I don’t want to hear the scream as the spirit gets pulled into hell.
Too many memories.
A human isn’t supposed to survive hell.
Hell, demons aren’t supposed to survive hell.
Yet here I am.
The original haunting was a bit more difficult than we anticipated. Bunch of teenagers playing games. Dude, when will they learn that ouija boards aren’t something you want to break out at a party?
Woke themselves up some ancient spirit.
Let me saying finding old Indian bones in the middle of Arizona without getting scalped, shot at, or arrested – is not easy.
Spirit is gone.
The kids are safe.
And it’s Halloween.
There’s a carnival going on.
We decided for once to enjoy the moment instead of just running out of town.
Sammy’s gone to get food.
I’m watching a pack of seven year olds run around on a sugar high.
I can’t remember ever being that carefree or happy.
Actually…I’m happiest when I’m with Sam.
God this journal has turned me into a girl.
They laugh and run off, exhausted parents chasing after them.
It’s these moments that make it all seem not so bad.
~ Signed
D. W.
October 31, 2008
***
Sammy’s got to be freaking out.
He’ll probably handcuff me to the bed for this but I just needed to get away and think for a few minutes.
Nightmare.
Worse than the others.
Most of the time I dream of pain, darkness…but this?
God, this was more like reliving the pain and suffering.
But it wasn’t what was happening to me that got me sitting in a coffee shop across from the hotel right now.
It was what I saw…remembered.
I bolted up in the bed, and for the first time a true scream ripped from my throat.
Sam tried to grab me as I scrambled away.
I kept pulling out of his grasp tugging on my pants and t-shirt.
I knew he was crying, begging for me to stay…
Honestly I just couldn’t be in that small room.
What I saw, remembered, felt…
I need to think.
And for the first time since I got this fucking journal, I knew it would help.
I ripped open the door and Sam pleaded for me.
I wasn’t leaving him.
Just…
How can I explain this when I don’t know what to think of it?
I know now what he did to save me.
The pain had suddenly disappeared.
The chains were breaking, falling away from me.
My eyes closed from a bright flash of light.
And when I opened them, there was Sammy.
I felt the power surgering around and through him.
He embraced that part of himself.
To save me.
I knew it wouldn’t take long for Sammy to hunt me down.
That chime when the door opened has to be him.
I can’t talk to him about this yet. I need to figure it out myself.
Well fuck me.
It’s not Sam.
Well fuck me. Looks like she survived.
It’s Ruby.
___________________________________________________
Oh yes, where was I before I was rudely interrupted by that Demon Bitch…?
Yeah well, just, shit.
Didn’t take her long to totally fuck with my life.
Sammy’s going to handcuff me to the nearest hard surface.
After he kills me, brings me back, then probably kills me again.
I’m just going to blame Ruby.
That fucking BITCH!
How dare she show up and rattle on about how ‘Sam finally embraced his destiny’?
Well BITCH I’m out aren’t I? And Sam is still my Sammy.
He’s not leading some demon army and Lilith is in hiding with her tail between her legs.
You’re just pissed that it didn’t work out like you intended it.
Me and Sammy both have our souls and out humanity still attached, unlike some skanky black-eyed bitches I happen to know.
I’m glaring at her over the journal right now as she sits in the other cell at the local jail.
What can I say?
She pissed me off, talking all that shit about Sammy.
Bitch had to go down.
So I grabbed her shirt and slammed her head into the table. Then told her that if she came near my brother I would put a nice shiny bullet into her demon heart.
One thing about demons, they tend to fight back.
The whole joint ended up trashed.
And now I’m sitting here in fucking jail waiting for Sam to fucking get me out, so he can drag me back to the hotel…probably fuck me over the bed…then handcuff me to the chair while he screams at me.
Not sure how Ruby survived whatever Lilith did to her. And I really didn’t care at that moment, considering I was being ripped apart by Hellhounds
It doesn’t even matter that she has a new ‘meat-suit’ to play in, she’s still the same ugly bitch.
Looks like I got a side affect of my time in Hell, besides the inablity to sleep.
I can see the demons real faces. Guess I’m still Hell’s Bitch.
Fucking demons. Hate them all.
~ Signed
D. W.
November 2, 2008
***
Sam’s been driving like a mad man. There’s at least three States between us and that hick town.
He hasn’t said much.
I know he’s pissed. I can feel it coming off of him.
But I just can’t find it in myself to apologize.
I have nothing to apologize for.
Ruby deserved that beat down.
The bitch.
Next time I see that little skank I’m shooting her – don’t care what Sammy says.
Though I think he may beat me to it, from the glare he gave her when he pulled me out of the jail.
It was that whole General of the Demon Army thing…
I half expected to get fucked over the table again.
I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or not that I didn’t.
I really need to find out where this whole ‘controlling Sam is such a turn on’ kink came from.
I still curl up with him at night.
He’s more octopus at the moment. All arms and legs wrapped around me.
I have these moments though…when it’s too hot, too constricting.
I have crawl out from under him just to breathe right.
At times I have to roll the window down in the Impala to get cool air before I start to freak out.
I see Sammy looking at me with worry, but he turns away and just goes back to driving.
It’s as if the devil himself is behind us.
Maybe she is.
If Ruby is out there that means Lilith is, and that’s one demon I never want to see again.
Is it sad that right now all I want is for Sammy to smile at me and make it better?
It’s like I’m some hormonal chick.
Since I remembered my return from hell.
Fuck.
I still don’t know how to ask him about what I saw.
What do I say?
‘Hey Sammy I know you tapped into those demon powers to save me.’
FUCK!!!
Dude, what the hell?
Gravel is bad for the undercarriage of my baby!!!
You hurt her and we are having it out.
Bitch.
What the hell is his problem?
Wait?
Do I mutter when I write or something?
Did I actually say that last part out loud?
Fuck I did.
~ Signed
D.W.
November 6, 2008
***
When Sammy boy gets in a rant nothing stops him.
I half expected the bitch to show up right there, he was screaming her name so loud.
She must have some brains in that demon head of her, cos she stayed far away from us.
From Sammy.
Come to find out muttering while writing is genetic.
He thinks Ruby told me about the big secret of him tapping into his dark side to save me.
I just let him type away at his laptop.
Like I don’t know he has his own journal…
But of course Sammy has to be high tech and have it all geeky.
He’s been writing in it since Jess.
He has no clue I know.
Hey, I play the dumb jock well.
We’ve been on the road for days now.
He’s been sulking in the passenger side staring out the window.
I can so hear the cheesy music in my head as the rain falls.
Cue the camera shot from outside the car, focusing on those puppy eyes.
Bitch.
So I just kept driving.
How could I talk to him about mom when I wasn’t sure myself?
Sorry dude but I have to get my own shit together before I can fix yours.
Last night though…
I couldn’t sleep.
As usual.
I crawled out from under octopus Sammy and stepped outside to get some fresh air.
Talk with my baby.
She’s jealous.
I’ve been talking more to this thing than her.
It was hours later when Sammy stepped out of the room and just looked at me.
He was beautiful stood there with the sun peaking over the trees just brightening the world.
Everything I ever did was for Sammy.
I have no regrets. Not one.
Even with the nightmares and twitches, I don’t regret it.
Not for a second.
I have Sammy.
And he gave me mom.
I walked over to him and pulled him into my arms, and whispered in his ear…
~ Signed
D.W.
November 9, 2008
***
The past two weeks have been good.
Okay not good as in GOOD, but better than the previous month.
We actually stopped back and saw Granny Smith again.
She gave us pie.
She smacked both of us and told us we’re better together than apart.
Who knew Granny Smith was friends with Missouri?
And if Sammy makes another comment about me picking up another damn psychic lady in the middle of bumfuck nowhere…?
I’m smacking him.
I’m still not sleeping.
I close my eyes and feel the hooks in my skin and hear screams of pain.
Now I know they’re my screams.
Sammy tries to sooth me enough to get me to sleep, and as much as I hate to admit it – it works.
But I still wake up screaming.
No more of this silent screaming crap, its full on ‘help me I’m being flayed alive’ screams.
Twice we’ve had to leave a hotel because of me.
He’s worried.
He’s always worried.
But ever since that morning he’s not so tense…
Though Ruby still has an appointment with the Colt. It’s only a matter of which one of us gets to the gun first when she shows her demon ass.
Sammy’s driving at the moment.
After the nightmare last night there was no way I was driving my girl. I’m too tired and too strung out on lack of sleep.
I’d just put us in a ditch.
He’s got the radio on low. Some local station.
Sammy knows what calms my nerves.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Hell no. I’m not sitting here listening to some local artist with soulful voice and a song that just….
FUCK!!
Just breathe.
I’m fine…
I am.
Totally fine.
Sammy turn the FUCKING thing OFF.
FUCK.
Its too much.
Just too much…
~ Signed
D.W.
November 24, 2008
***
I don’t really remember how we got to the hotel.
I’m just so tired.
Worn down.
Sam stripped me out of my jacket, then made me sit on the bed as he pulled off my boots.
It was just like that night.
Six months ago.
He took me in his arms, stripped me down. Gently. Lovingly. Cleaned my wounds. Never left my side.
He wants me to lay down and sleep, but as tired as I am… I can’t.
I’m sitting here curled back against the wall, this journal in my hands.
I stared at for so long before I cracked it open and just read through the past entries.
God I’m one fucked up bitch.
Hell will do that to a person.
I’ll never tell Sam this, cos dude, it really would add to all the guilt he’s already carrying, but up to the moment Lilith had me pinned to that table, I truly believed Sam would find a way to save me.
He saved me in the end, but not before…
I can never tell him about the agonizing pain I was in as the Hellhounds ripped into me, or the feel of their claws as they pulled me off that table. Even now I can see their blood red eyes as they snarled and ripped into my stomach.
There was no ‘shock’; I felt every bite, every tear. I felt blood flowing through my fingers.
My blood.
My throat so raw as I screamed out in pain.
Then there was nothing.
Just darkness.
Then more pain.
Pain I can’t even describe.
I screamed.
You can’t prepare yourself for hell not matter how much of a cocky bastard you are.
It was never ending.
Pain.
Darkness.
Fear.
Loneliness.
In a constant loop.
There were times…I swear I could hear mom’s voice.
She’d tell me that it was going to be alright.
Then another hook would slice into me and the voice would fade away, drowned out by my own screams.
I screamed for mercy.
For help.
For Sam.
All I wanted was to see Sam.
I knew he would make it better.
Save me.
And he did.
He’s as tired as I am.
I can see it.
We are such a pair.
We are each other’s weakness and the demons know this.
But we also each other’s strength.
This they forget.
He’s slumped on the other bed right now, typing away on his computer.
I wrote earlier that I survived Hell for him.
I did.
So as much as this book holds my secrets, I think its time I swallow my fear.
Dude I went to Hell, after that what is there to be scared of?
Giving myself over to Sammy completely.
Fuck.
I’m Dean Winchester. Hunter. Soldier. Loyal Son. Devoted Brother. Sam’s Lover.
Time to put the book down and let him in.
Let him…
…save me.
~ Signed
D.W.
November 25, 2008
***
Thanksgiving.
There’s a holiday us Winchesters never observed.
I always wondered, if the demon had never attacked, would have been huge Thanksgiving celebrations in our house?
Turkey.
Dressing.
Yams.
Days off school.
Trips home from college.
But the demon ripped that away from us. We never had anything to be thankful for.
Until now.
We’re sitting in some diner off the Interstate. There are paper turkeys on the counters, horns of plenty on each table.
Turkey dinner for only $7.99 – comes with turkey, potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce and a roll. For dessert, pumpkin pie with cream whip.
It’s perfect.
Sammy who’s grinning as he digs into his meal.
I couldn’t help but smile at him. The past two weeks haven’t been easy. The past months haven’t been easy.
But that day by the highway something changed in both of us.
For the good.
I sleep more now.
Sammy doesn’t seem so stressed.
The waitress asked what we’re thankful for, said it was a tradition. She said that hearing what makes others thankful helps her realize that there are good things in this world.
So I told her the truth.
I’m thankful for Sammy.
I looked right at him when I said it.
Because he’s stood by me through everything.
~ Signed
D.W.
November 27, 2008
***
Even three days after, I can’t figure what the hell happened.
Sammy’s got his laptop out and he’s sitting on the dresser that’s blocking the door.
Dude.
Really.
I’m not sure if he’s trying to make sure I don’t run.
Or he’s making sure something doesn’t get in.
Either way, the salt lines are thick, the sigs are drawn everywhere, and we’re hold up in a no name hotel in a no name town.
So what the fuck happened?
Hell if I know.
We had Thanksgiving.
An actual Thanksgiving.
I fell asleep curled with Sammy…not that I’m going to admit out loud to anyone that ‘we cuddled’.
Dean Winchester doesn’t cuddle.
Except with Sammy.
Fuck.
Concentrate Dean. Get this out and maybe figure out what the fuck is going on.
I spent most of the day fucking Sammy into the mattress, he was so tight and moaning my name…
Anyway.
We headed out for some food, decided to go back to the same diner from where we had Thanksgiving.
Walked in and it was like walking into hell.
Fucking Demons.
They took everyone in that diner.
All I could see were their fucking ugly faces…
The waitress was terrified; she looked at us with true fear in her blue eyes.
I reacted.
Didn’t give them a chance.
I grabbed her and pulled her close to my body making sure she was between me and Sam.
A demon sauntered up to us.
Taunting, ‘Miss you in hell, boy.’
Fuck this shit.
I shot him.
Not with the Colt; with my Glock.
The room stopped and watched as he fell to the ground convulsing before its eyes went blank.
All I heard was Sam screaming my name as he pulled me out of the place.
I was lost.
I could only smell sulpher.
Feel their touch on my skin.
Hear their laughter as they tortured me.
The shockwave slammed me into the ground.
It also woke me the hell up.
I sat there and stared at where the diner used to be.
It was gone. Just like the police station and Henrickson.
Now..?
Now I don’t know what the fuck happened.
We got the waitress home to her family four States away.
She kissed my cheek. Said we were Angels.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.
Three days later.
We sit here.
Sammy’s not talking.
I’m not sleeping.
And demons are on our asses.
I survived hell… but will I survive what it did?
What did it do to us?
Something is different – I know that now.
I can feel it humming through my veins.
It’s not just Sammy.
It’s me.
It’s us.
It’s War.
~ Signed
D.W.
November 30, 2008
***
Day of Infamy.
Yes I know it. I’m not a complete and utter moron.
Dad was a Marine.
We might not have celebrated Thanksgiving, Christmas etc…but we knew when to respect soldiers, veterans and give thanks and salute fallen comrades.
So I have to find the irony that it was today of all days when the pieces fitted together.
Bobby had found us in that no name hotel; yelled at Sam to get away from the door, slapped both of us upside the head, then dragged our sorry asses to South Dakota.
Home.
It really is home for both of us.
Bobby, he’s been there for us.
For me.
Sammy doesn’t know about the nights I cried on the back porch with the dogs keeping me company. That on those nights Bobby just sat next to me and handed me a beer.
He’ll never know about the few tears the older man had shed.
He was as scared as we were.
It hurt him that we just took off after Sammy got me out.
I can see that now.
But he also knew we needed to.
Had to.
Still, we’ve been holed up here for days, with Sammy and Bobby just pouring through the books, searching for an answer to what happened at the diner.
I fiddled with my girl.
Gave her a good oil change and tune-up.
Worked on Bobby’s truck for a bit.
One of his new pups wouldn’t leave my side.
Little critter’s always under foot, even somehow found his way up the stairs into mine and Sammy’s room.
I’m not stupid but the whole book researching thing wasn’t my gig. Give me something to shoot, or blow up and then I’m a happy little Hunter.
But it was snowing and I was bored so I grabbed a random book and sat down to read. It was a tale of old, Japan I think, something about a great and feared leader and his ultimate weapon.
I dropped the book on to the floor in shock.
That’s when I knew.
On this day. December 7th. The Day of Infamy.
Sam the Leader of Hell’s Army…
…and I was his weapon.
Fuck.
~ Signed
D.W.
December 7, 2008