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shy-violet-soul · 4 years

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Dream for a Mermaid

Summary: When she struggles under the weight of a lost goal, will her heart start buying the lies her head is spitting out? Or will she let her family speak the truth she needs to hear? Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, and a precious friend Warnings: discussions of anxiety & depression, so very much fluff Word count: 1600-ish

A/N: This is for my precious friend, @pinknerdpanda . Always listen to your heart, sweetie. And when your head starts lying, listen to me! Xoxo

The air in the Impala hung like a wet blanket. All she wanted was to get in her room and hide. Under-the-blankets hide. Under-the-bed hide. Dig-a-hole-in-the-world hide. Every time she saw Dean stretch his neck to the left at the kink there, every time Sam absently rubbed at his relocated shoulder, or Cas shifted gingerly around the remnants of his slashed ribs, the guilt squeezed her throat and burned her eyes. While Bob Dylan crooned out “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door”, only one note thrummed through her.

Failed. Failed. Failed.

The tunnel into the bunker’s garage filled her with a dizzying mess of relief and panic, her system overloaded from the last three hours. When the driver’s door creaked and Dean groaned his customary back popping, she arrowed herself out of the car and hurtled towards safety.

She didn’t see her boys staring after her before turning to each other. No explanation needed. They’d all lived it, too.

Failed. Failed. Failed.

Ammonia wrapped around her in a fog. Familiar, bracing, she let it fill her head as she militantly painted. Color came and went under her hands as she sloughed off a new vision and pulled the comforting customary into its place. Grief dripped free in ribbons of salty soot. The tap on the door went unnoticed, swamped beneath the cacophony in her mind.

Failed. Failed. Failed.

“Hey.”

Color slopped astray when she jumped at the voice. Her eyes snapped to the mirror, fixing studiously on the man behind her and not her own reflection. The reply she gave was all croak and no fooling to a Winchester.

“So...blue hair again?” Sam queried, offering her a hesitant smile.

She cleared her throat of the guilt before slapping out the truth.

“Well, brown hair is for blending in. You know, for real hunters.”

The bowl and brush slammed into the sink, blue showering wet and shiny onto the white porcelain as she ripped her gloves off. Her chin trembled as her chest clutched hard, and the need for air churned with the nausea in her belly, anxiety spiking sharp and cold along her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking Sam out because she didn’t deserve his understanding. This was her problem.

Failed. Failed. Failed.

“What happened wasn’t your fault.”

A croaking, choking sound broke from her as her head sagged down.

“Are you kidding me? How was it not my fault? You were there, Sam! It was a complete shit show!”

“Hunts go sideways all the time! How many times have you bandaged us up because it didn’t go the way we planned?”

She scoffed, swiping at her dripping grey tears.

“You guys are wired for that crap, Sam. It’s practically in your DNA. Have Cas check!” she snarked. “I trained for days for this. Days! The shooting and sparring with Dean, the research stuff with you, what-kills-what quizzes with Cas, and hours, frickin’ hours of what-iffing enough scenarios to fill a book. And for what? Nothing!”

The juggernaut of grief ripped free, shoving her anxiety up into her heart, throat, and head hard enough that her vision swam, pressing her down, down until the weight became too much as she wobbled to the tiled floor. Sobs, all the more painful as she tried to choke them back, filled the sudden silence like an uneven fall of breaking glass - sharp, hitching, hurting.

Slow, steady, Sam stepped close and sat. Near enough to reassure, far enough to not crowd.

“I just wanted -” Stopped as she dove her face into her drawn up knees.

“What?” The gentleness of his question squeezed more tears free.

“I just wanted it... to work. I thought being a hunter was what I wanted. All I wanted. And I just wanted it to work so bad. Why didn’t it work, Sam? Why couldn’t I make it work? Why?”

Sam’s chest vised hard and painful at the pure heartbreak on her face. He scooted himself closer, long fingered hands resting on her shins.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey,” he husked to her. “Listen to me.” Sam waited until she raised her gaze to his. “Now, you listen to me, alright? You did not fail.” His hands squeezed her legs for silence when she rolled her eyes to protest. “You didn’t. Hunting in the field...it’s fourteen kinds of crazy. And yeah, not gonna lie - the adrenaline rush in the moment? Wow. The feeling that gets me here,” he rubs one hand over his heart, “when we do save someone? Or put a tormented soul to rest? Knowing we made one little piece of this messed up planet better? There’s no feeling in the world like it.

“You didn’t fail. If you truly feel like being out in the trenches isn’t for you, that’s not failure. That’s courage! You know how many people keep clawing after something that isn’t for them? And they’re miserable. I know it hurts right now, and I’m so sorry you’re hurting. But, think about it. Having the guts to say ‘no’ to one dream, as awful as it feels in the moment, puts you on a path to a new one. And you?” Sam let all his admiration and care for her shine in his warm smile. “You are freaking amazing. And you’re going to do amazing things. Just..be gentle with yourself. And remember - we’re here for you. Whatever you decide to do.”

She let his words wash over her. Let their truth sink into her and loosen the stranglehold panic still scrabbling at her throat. A deep breath pulled in, and she nodded weakly, still heavy under everything. Ready to try and put some of it down.

Sam’s smile widened as he watched her nod, watched her body soften just a touch.

“Besides, I like your blue hair better, anyway.”

She snorted at that, swiping a wet blue strand out of her face and wiping the smudge of color left behind on her pants.

“So, did you draw the short straw for this deeply emotional encounter?”

A true laugh coughed from her scratchy throat as Sam’s eyebrows did a comical up-and-down dance.

“What? No! Just...no!”

A gentle tap on the door, and Dean poked his head in the bathroom.

“Hey, short straw. You finish telling her how kickass she is? And that Cas is currently stuck in the ice cream aisle at the store, trying to figure out if there’s any dangerous bits of porcelain in her favorite Ben and Jerry’s ‘Kitchen Sink’ ice cream?”

Chuckles bubbled up as Sam leveled his bitch face at Dean while the older man stepped over to help her to her feet.

“You’re bringing the mermaid hair back? Awesome! You gonna put any purple in with it this time? That look on you was my favorite!”

She let herself have the hug Dean pulled her in for, smiling tiredly.

“I don’t have the stuff for purple. But I’ve got enough to give you some blue.”

When Sam laughed at that, Dean scoffed at him.

“Bitch, please. I could rock me some blue hair.” Draping a companionable arm around her shoulders, he rubbed his hand on his chin as he pondered. “For Sammy, I’m thinking green. Bring out his eyes.”

Sam rolled those eyes hard enough to see inside his skull, and she shooed the brothers out so she could concentrate on her timer and color. For the moment, grief had let go. She wasn’t ready to think about new dreams yet, but in this instance, setting down this one didn’t sting as badly.

***********************************************

3 days later

“C’mon, girl, it’s movie night!” came Dean’s voice down the hall. She yanked her favorite hoodie over her head, grabbing her pillow as she sailed out the door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, keep your shirt on, Winchester,” she hollered back. Quick steps navigated to the Dean Cave, heart light as she welcomed the R&R with her family. Dean had even agreed to let her pick the movie. Turning the corner into the room, she stopped short, and burst into hysterical laughter.

Dean had aqua blue and teal strands glistening in his dark hair. Sam smiled, chagrined, when she took in the shamrock green throughout his own strands. And Cas, dear sweet Cas, looked preciously confused about the hot pink tufts poking up out of his fluffy tresses.

The look of delighted pride on Dean’s face, coupled with Sam’s resigned grin and Cas’ adorable but supportive bewilderment, had her leaning on the back of the couch as hilarity pealed from her in waves.

“Now we can be as awesome as you with our hair! Bring it in, mermaid.” Dean pulled her into one of his famous bear hugs as Sam tucked her pillow into her preferred spot on the couch. Cas proudly offered her a pint of ice cream and a spoon.

“I’ve thoroughly checked this for porcelain and nickel traces, it’s contaminant free from any kitchen sink particles.”

It was a sheer force of will that kept her from laughing right in his face as she snuggled into her spot.

It was never easy letting go of something so deeply desired. A part of her would always hurt at the loss, would always cry out ‘what if’. But today? Today she let her heart tell her the truth. Today, she knew she was loved, and she knew tomorrow was another chance.

Another chance to find a new dream.

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