Dead Amongst the Living
Winchester Sister Fic
TRIGGER Warnings: Mentions of self harm and suicide, light blood, family sad Fluff.
A/n: This was written because I kind of needed it. Then somebody requested something like this so I guess it’s for us both.
Tags: @Freaksforthewin , @thewinhunter, @cambriacaneatnoodles, @brokennoone , @youtubehelpsmesurvive , @chrisevansthedoritobastard , @winchesters-favorite-girl , @we-know-a-little-about-a-lot @godh8salyssa @dean-baby-Winchester @straightasdeanwinchester @animexchocolate @fabulouslycassie @lizbeth-loves-bobear @nicolesyneah25 @lucifer-in-leather
The sun beat down like no other on this day. Surly Hell would’ve been a cooler setting than this. Mornings were cool enough that a jacket was tolerable and nobody would question its use. By afternoon, the sun heated Earth’s surface to a crisp 120 degrees. Leaving long sleeved coverage out of the question, and your arm openly exposed.
A loud voice caught you off guard. Causing your arm to fumble over and knock over your upright bottle of cover-up.
“Come on, pipsqueak. You need to eat before we hit the road.” Dean called out for you.
“Y-yeah. Be out in a sec!” You shouted back best you could, making sure he could hear behind the closed door you sheltered yourself with.
Wiping what little bit of your makeup spilled, you began to slowly apply it around the edges of the many shades of red lines. Some puffed up from irritation and swelling. Those you just applied the makeup directly on. The thicker more open markings only got cover up around its bright red edges, doing your best to hide the coloring without further irritate anything.
You placed a hand on your hip, purposely turning your wrist outward to see how noticeable it all was from a natural distance. As long as neither of your brothers asked for a close inspection, you’d be in the clear. Just for safe caution you rolled the sleeves down on your red and black printed flannel before unlocking and heading out the bathroom door.
“Now we know what was taking you so long.” Dean spoke with a piece of freshly cooked bacon in his hand. “You were putting on your other face.” He smiled before taking a pleased bite from the greasy food.
“Ha ha ha, very funny. Almost as funny as the other five billion times you’ve made that joke.” Casually you walked over to the table and sat in front of your plate, right beside Dean to his left and directly across the table from Sam.
“Dude, she’s a teenager. What’d you expect?” Sam chuckled lightly. Giving you a smirk and a sarcastic eye.
Everything was going well. Normal. Like any other Sunday or time before the three of you would set out for a hunt. Pancakes so fluffy you were sure Dean used clouds to create them. Bacon so crisp you wondered whether Cas had a hand in cooking them quickly. Coffee perfect brewed to satisfy each bite you took and used the beverage to wash it all down with. There wasn’t any need to worry about anything. Both of your brothers were oblivious to your recent actions. Nobody suspected a thing. Up until Sam reached across the table and grabbed your arm.
“Woah.” He lowly grunted in shock as you instantly pulled your left arm away from him. “You were about to get syrup on your shirt. I was going to roll the sleeve up for you.” Sam defended himself, still slightly shocked at your reaction.
“No-no it’s fine. I’ll be more careful.” You spoke with your head low, pushing down your sleeve only slightly to readjust yourself.
“Let me see it.” Dean demanded in a stern tone. His gaze practically burning into your skull.
“See what?” Shying away you stabbed into another slice of your pancake, twirling it around in the syrup. Only to be stopped just before you could put the food into your mouth. “Dean I-” his grip forced your arm closer to him as he unintentionally dug into the bottom half of the deepest cut.
His eyes softened instantly. Yet hardened all the same. Hurt and anger seemed to fill ever corner of his eyes. The top base of his finger ran over the bright red coloring on the outside of the straight diagonal lines, causing you to wince at the fresh pain. Slowly he trailed down the line. Starting from newest to oldest. Some old. Others not so old.
“How long have you been doing this again?” He spoke softly, trying to push down the lump at the out of his throat.
“Does it matter? I’m not dead so just leave the situation alone.” Rotating your shoulder backwards you took control of your arm once more. Reeling it in and slipping the sleeve back over the graveyard of forgotten feelings. But all the while you didn’t speak. And you didn’t dare make any form of eye contact with either of them.
“Leave the situation alone? So what? You expect us to sit by and watch our baby sister do this to herself all over again?” The anger in Dean’s voice was clear, and it only made you scoff. Making him more mad. “So you see this as a joke?”
“I see this as it’s none of your damn business.” You soar unintentionally at him. The tone you gave off sounded much harsher and cold than you expected it to.
“We all need to take a deep breath and calm down. Fighting isn’t going to help anything.” Sam held up his hands to show he didn’t mean to anger either of you more. “I thought we were passed all this.” He directed all his well balanced and surprisingly calm attention to you.
“Guess we’re not.” You spoke before shoving a bite full of food into your mouth. Still refusing to make eye contact with either of them.
“You need to stop. It’s not okay to be doing this to yourself. If I need to hide every damn sharp object in here, I will.” Now Dean spoke to you as your father would. Firm and unimpressed. Then again, John wouldn’t have time to deal with this. He never did. “If you don’t stop I’ll strap you down in the basement until you’re over this.” He finished. Instantly your eyes shot up in a fit of painful rage.
“Strapping me down won’t help anything. Hiding everything won’t help either. What do you want me to do here guys?” You we’re speaking loudly, but you weren’t yelling. “This is how I cope with things. When everything gets too hard, I just do it.” A blank stare rested in your face.
“Why?” Sam’s question got you to snap out of your blank trance. “Why do you do it?” The small braking tone in his throat showed his true emotion of tears being withheld.
“It’s better than popping pills and downing it with alcohol.” You shrugged. Feeling numb about the whole situation. “It’s not like I do it for fun. Or for attention. It’s not because I want to.” Glancing over to Dean, you looked straight into his heavy eyes. “It’s so I feel something. Something other than the pain. It’s a different kind of pain, and for some reason it stops me…” pausing, you took your hands in a ball and rested them on your lips. While your elbows rested in the table.
“Stops you from what?” Dean could barley speak, but it was the outgoing breath that pushed his words.
“When I do it…” you sighed, closing your eyes in a rolling manner for a second. “it’s to stop me from ending it. From just committing totally to ending my life. Because I will. I know I will.” Now your own personal lump formed in your throat. “I hate living with this Sammy.” Tears began to fall vigorously.
Dean reached over to you. Grabbing your hand and holding tight, as though you were leaving him. Maybe it was the thought of waking up to his kid sister dead on the floor that shook his core. But it showed in his eyes which could no longer hold back tears.
“You’re not alone, Y/n. Us. Cas. We’re all here for you.” Sam was standing behind you now, rubbing your unsteady back. “We’re going to find a way to help you fight this. Because there’s no way in hell you’re walking this road without both of us beside you.”
“And we’re certainly not loosing you to this battle.” Dean added in, wiping the few single tears from his cheek. “You’ve fought against The Devil. Hell, you even took on his aunt. If you can kickass like that, you’re going to kick this in the ass too.” His words caused a small smile to appear on your faces. All of you laughed a little. “You’re gonna give em’ hell kid.” Dean squeezed the top of your shoulder as Sam bent down and placed a kiss at the top of your head.
“No,” you placed a hand onto of Deans which still rested in your shoulder, and another on Sam’s which was on your other. “We’ll give em’ hell together.”