Baby Skin Tattoo
Title: Baby Skin Tattoo
Author: xephwrites
Characters: Dean, mentions of others
Warnings: cutting, self harm, angst, minor blood
Word Count: sixhundredthirtysomething
Rating: R
Spoilers: let’s just say kinda, but not exactly. You’re safe if you’ve seen up to Season 4.
Summary: Dean doesn’t always bottle everything up.
Notes: This is for jaysawyer who had commented on my many usages of David Usher/Moist lyrics in my fics. She wondered if I would be able to channel Baby Skin Tattoo by David Usher. It took me a bit, but I was able to, FINALLY!
~*~*~*~*~
Dean keeps telling himself that he’s not a cutter. He doesn’t have a parade of scars along his arms like some emo kid. He has scars that mark the lives he’s saved. But there is one self inflicted scar, on the inside of his left arm, near his elbow.
He was twenty two. It was the night of The Fight. The night of the fight between Sam and their father. The night when Sam left for Stanford.
They were squatting in an abandoned house, working on a case. Dean still can’t figure out what address Sam used for his applications. It was most likely Bobby or Pastor Jim.
Dean was so proud of Sam, getting a full scholarship and everything. But the pride in his brother’s intelligence could not take away the pain of knowing Sam hid this from him. It hurt him that Sam didn’t trust him enough to at least tell him he was applying.
That night, Sam had told Dean first. Told him he was accepted and that he wanted to go. Dean was speechless. How could he beg his baby brother to stay when he could see how happy Sam was?
Sam told their father, and he hit the roof. Dean expected as much, given that John Winchester was all about family. It’s funny that he was, considering all the times he left the two of them alone.
They yelled and screamed at each other. Dean stayed silent during the argument. How could he side against either of them? They were both his family, and everything he lived for. He needed them both.
John gave the ultimatum, and Sam walked out the door, duffels over his shoulders. John left shortly afterwards, no doubt heading to a nearby bar. For the second time in Dean’s life, he was stunned, having watched his family torn apart.
Dean saw the knives that were set out for sharpening. He wasn’t suicidal. Suicide was selfish. But for some reason, he needed a different kind of pain. A pain he can rationalize, a pain to take his mind off the soul crushing feeling of losing his brother.
The blade bit into his arm easily. He hissed at the pain, his mind now focusing on that. Blood seeped out of the wound almost instantly. Pulling the knife away, he watched as the blood began to run down his arms in tiny streams.
He ran his tongue along his arm, tasting that unique metallic tang. Suddenly the pain of losing his brother wasn’t so bad.
Five years later, Sam died in his arms. It was his fault. He called out to him, giving that asshole that split second chance to shove the knife right in his back.
He sat beside his brother’s body on the musty mattress. He felt cold inside. He was playing with his boot knife, staring at the scar.
The blade was lingering right above it. He was about to cut it again, until he had a better thought. He’d make a deal. He’d sell his soul. He’d have his Sammy back.
When Castiel raised him from the pit, he remade Dean’s body without his battle scars. Physically, he was practically flawless. Castiel only left behind to marks. His protection tattoo and Castiel’s handprint.
Dean was sitting alone in the motel room, the image of Sam and Ruby together swimming in his mind. He felt betrayed. His brother, his own blood, was listening to that little demon bitch.
That hurt almost as much as Sam leaving for Stanford.
He looked at the spot on his arm where the scar used to be. He took his boot knife and raised it to the same spot.
As the blood flowed, Dean couldn’t feel the sting of betrayal anymore.
~*~*~*~*~
Comments are adored!!!
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Author: xephwrites
Characters: Dean, mentions of others
Warnings: cutting, self harm, angst, minor blood
Word Count: sixhundredthirtysomething
Rating: R
Spoilers: let’s just say kinda, but not exactly. You’re safe if you’ve seen up to Season 4.
Summary: Dean doesn’t always bottle everything up.
Notes: This is for jaysawyer who had commented on my many usages of David Usher/Moist lyrics in my fics. She wondered if I would be able to channel Baby Skin Tattoo by David Usher. It took me a bit, but I was able to, FINALLY!
~*~*~*~*~
Dean keeps telling himself that he’s not a cutter. He doesn’t have a parade of scars along his arms like some emo kid. He has scars that mark the lives he’s saved. But there is one self inflicted scar, on the inside of his left arm, near his elbow.
He was twenty two. It was the night of The Fight. The night of the fight between Sam and their father. The night when Sam left for Stanford.
They were squatting in an abandoned house, working on a case. Dean still can’t figure out what address Sam used for his applications. It was most likely Bobby or Pastor Jim.
Dean was so proud of Sam, getting a full scholarship and everything. But the pride in his brother’s intelligence could not take away the pain of knowing Sam hid this from him. It hurt him that Sam didn’t trust him enough to at least tell him he was applying.
That night, Sam had told Dean first. Told him he was accepted and that he wanted to go. Dean was speechless. How could he beg his baby brother to stay when he could see how happy Sam was?
Sam told their father, and he hit the roof. Dean expected as much, given that John Winchester was all about family. It’s funny that he was, considering all the times he left the two of them alone.
They yelled and screamed at each other. Dean stayed silent during the argument. How could he side against either of them? They were both his family, and everything he lived for. He needed them both.
John gave the ultimatum, and Sam walked out the door, duffels over his shoulders. John left shortly afterwards, no doubt heading to a nearby bar. For the second time in Dean’s life, he was stunned, having watched his family torn apart.
Dean saw the knives that were set out for sharpening. He wasn’t suicidal. Suicide was selfish. But for some reason, he needed a different kind of pain. A pain he can rationalize, a pain to take his mind off the soul crushing feeling of losing his brother.
The blade bit into his arm easily. He hissed at the pain, his mind now focusing on that. Blood seeped out of the wound almost instantly. Pulling the knife away, he watched as the blood began to run down his arms in tiny streams.
He ran his tongue along his arm, tasting that unique metallic tang. Suddenly the pain of losing his brother wasn’t so bad.
Five years later, Sam died in his arms. It was his fault. He called out to him, giving that asshole that split second chance to shove the knife right in his back.
He sat beside his brother’s body on the musty mattress. He felt cold inside. He was playing with his boot knife, staring at the scar.
The blade was lingering right above it. He was about to cut it again, until he had a better thought. He’d make a deal. He’d sell his soul. He’d have his Sammy back.
When Castiel raised him from the pit, he remade Dean’s body without his battle scars. Physically, he was practically flawless. Castiel only left behind to marks. His protection tattoo and Castiel’s handprint.
Dean was sitting alone in the motel room, the image of Sam and Ruby together swimming in his mind. He felt betrayed. His brother, his own blood, was listening to that little demon bitch.
That hurt almost as much as Sam leaving for Stanford.
He looked at the spot on his arm where the scar used to be. He took his boot knife and raised it to the same spot.
As the blood flowed, Dean couldn’t feel the sting of betrayal anymore.
~*~*~*~*~
Comments are adored!!!
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