Self-injury,

n The act of intentionally hurting oneself. One manifestation of this is known as
cutting.

Control. Dean needed control – Of his life and of his body.

He knew that he'd have to say yes to Michael. No matter how much he tried to deny it; become an angel condom. Dean didn't even have control over his own body. It was the truth. His life was always and had been run by others, like a puppet on strings.

But there was one way to regain control. Cutting. It made him feel again; light a fire inside of his empty soul. Each bubble of blood that escaped from his skin brought a feeling of control.

He never wanted to kill himself though. If Dean did that then he wouldn't be able to punish himself anymore. He just needed to feel the sharp pains that left scars across his arms.

Dean never thought he'd believe in this destiny crap. Wasn't that always for Sammy?

Sam. Right now, he was gone and Dean was alone. He'd come back though.

Sam could never know.

_-_-_

Click. The motel door opens.

"Dean?" Footsteps.

"I did some research and I think I might have stumbled across something big. We should check it out."

Closer. "You better not be jerking off in the bathroom."

A laugh. Then, silence.

"Hey, man" No response. "Dean?"

The door opens, slowly. "You in here....?"

"DEAN!" A hand's on his shoulder. Cold.

"What happened?" He doesn't reply. He can't.

"Oh my..." Blood. There's so much blood.

Dean blinks and then his eyes go wide.

"I...Sorry..."Dean finally whispers and covers his wrists. Disappointment.

A gasp. "What have you done?"

Eyes downcast. "You weren't supposed to know..." Now with sudden acknowledgment. "I need to go" He tries to stand but a hand is still on his shoulder. Strong.

"Sammy." Please. Dean says his name with such desperation it's heartbreaking.

Sam's face is full of worry. Caring. Not angry. "Why?" Did you do this to yourself. His voice is soft. Reassuring.

Dean doesn't answer. Ashamed.

"Make me a promise." Sam says firmly. Confident.

Dean doesn't look up. "Dean" He grabs Dean's head and forces him to make eye contact. "Look at me".

Sam's eyes are hopeful. Dean's eyes are dull and lost.

"Never cut yourself again" There it is; the word; the truth. Cut.

What follows is a silence that seems to last forever.

Then, "I promise".