brick wall

Who: Dean and Oz
Where: Osbourne household
When: About an hour after dawn

Dean had sat with Thia until she died and then sat with her some more. The Snow White joke seemed stale now - death was never how they made it in Disney, not that he'd ever really thought it was. There was no beauty there, no peace - there was just blood. Lots and lots of blood and the knowledge of an end to pain.

The denim of his jeans creaked as he'd finally let her down to the floor and he'd stood. He'd been soaked in blood - both his and hers, not knowing where one ended and the other began and not really caring. His clothes had been covered in it, his skin streaked with it. Blood had soaked into the leather of the holster he wore to house the gun he withdrew, checking the clip out of habit.

He'd walked out of the room and barely glanced at the other people there. In fact, he'd been unable to bring himself to look at them, just announcing that he'd be downstairs, on watch. That's why he was still here, after all - they needed a guard dog and the wolf wasn't enough. She'd died so he could protect them so they were fucking well getting protected.

Since then, he'd been sitting on the stairs to the ground floor, waiting. Waiting for the shadows to come back, waiting for something to do. Something that would mean that he wouldn't have to think any more, the blood - his blood, her blood - dried now in his clothes, on his skin.

Oz had given Dean some time. He didn't want to give him too much time, but a little, yeah. Some space. He'd gone and showered, looked over himself with that weird sort of amazement considering just how fucked up he'd been only an hour and a half ago, and now...there wasn't a thing wrong with him. He didn't even ache anywhere, didn't feel fatigue. It still didn't feel like it was worth it, not when he was watching Dean holding her as she bled out. The overpowering scent of blood upstairs was enough to choke him the further he got up the hallway. He shut the door, just to..he didn't know. Give everyone a little separation from the body.

Then, he turned and stared down the stairwell for a good five minutes. It stretched out as he went down the first flight of stairs, then stared down the next. Dean was down there. The scent of blood was starting to rise up again. Dean hadn't gone to change, at all. He wondered if he was actually going to have to tell the kid he needed to do that. God he hoped not. Either way, he slowly started down the steps to join Dean, keeping his approach measured and not too fast--just in case.

Dean listened to the footsteps approaching. He'd known that they would, sooner or later. He didn't welcome the intrusion into his personal space and he didn't turn around to see who it was. He didn't much care. The people upstairs were the people upstairs. It was what was downstairs and outside he had to be worried about, that's where his attention was, where it had to be. As long as the people upstairs stayed behind him, then Dean didn't care. He wasn't stupid though, he knew they wouldn't see it like that - he'd known someone would come. Oz or Sophie probably. To 'check' on him, make sure he was 'alright'. Whatever.

Oz sat down a stair or two up from Dean, still wanting to give Dean enough space. "Hey." he said in greeting, wondering if he'd get an answer at all. He was looking Dean over. Not a scratch on him either. Not the scratches from last night, nothing. All he had was the overwhelming amount of blood soaked into his jeans and what remained of his shirt. "How bad off are you? Do you need anything?" he asked. "Got anything to say?" His voice was light. He wasn't sure what to say here, if anything was wrong. Well. The only thing to say that was emphatically wrong was 'are you okay'. He knew Dean and okay weren't living in the same zip code anymore at current.

"Yeah - go back upstairs and stay out of my way," Dean told him without turning round, holding the gun loosely in his hands, his feet planted firmly apart as he leant forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

Oz hadn't figured Dean would be overly up for chatting. That didn't mean the kid didn't need to, even if it was to spend that pent up emotion right now. Oz was more than a willing target right now. "...not really planning on doing that." he said. "Not yet, anyhow." Because he wasn't going to hound Dean all day, but still.

Dean couldn't make the guy fuck off - he was neither physically stronger nor in any kind of a position to tell him what to do. So he just shrugged, still not turning round, choosing to ignore the werewolf instead.

"Dean...please. Talk. Something. You've got to be going through a lot right now. I want to know you can even handle this right now." Oz said. He did, though that wasn't his main motivation. Oz really wanted to know if Dean was even remotely stable right now, that was more his concern. He wanted a more accurate assessment of how bad off the kid was, and just how closely he'd need to be watched.

"What do you want me to say?" Dean asked, bluntly. He wished the guy would just go away, he didn't want to talk - he especially didn't want to talk to any of the people who'd been upstairs. He had no idea if there was anyone anywhere that he'd want to talk to right now, but he doubted it. He had a couple of people who'd cropped up in his head, but he was still there, sitting on the stairs, not doing that. Guard duty - that's where he was at. Everything else could wait.

"I don't know." Oz answered truthfully. "What happened up there...no one wanted that, you know that, right? You know that...no one wanted to see that happen to her." He was pretty sure Dean didn't know that. But he had to say it.

Dean stood up, which was harder than he thought it would be - blood-soaked jeans that had dried didn't actually move that well, it was like unfolding cardboard and it cut into his skin, but he still did it. "I'll be outside," he told Oz, starting off down the stairs, hoping that the guy would get the fucking hint and fuck the hell off.

"Dean--wait." he said, moving after the kid. The fact that Dean decided right then to leave told him he didn't at all think that people hadn't wanted that. It was the plan that made most sense, there was nothing there that had anything to do with desire. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for how all that happened." he apologized, sincere there. God, yeah, Dean did need to change. Badly. That heavy blood odor was stuck in his nose again.

You're sorry for how it happened? Not sorry that it happened at all?? He thought to himself, but he wasn't going to say that outloud - he didn't want to listen to the fucking justifications. Oz had sat there and he'd let her die. Sure, he'd said he hated it, but he'd done nothing to try and stop her. Dean kept walking.

Annnd Dean wasn't stopping. So, Oz reached out to snag the teenager's arm, thinking that the last time he'd tried to stop Dean from doing something when it involved overly charged up emotions regarding Thia--he'd gotten a black eye. "Dean. Stop."

Dean stopped and finally rounded on him - though he wasn't leading with his fist this time. "What?" he snapped, his voice sharp. "What do you fucking want me to say, Oz? She's fucking dead and I don't give a flying fuck about whether she'll be back tomorrow or not. So, what do you want me to say? Do you want me to fucking lay in you about the fact you and every other fucking person up there did shit and just let her die? Or would you prefer me to start in about how it's my fucking fault in the first place? I was the one hurt - I was the one that fucking killed her, everyone else was - they were hurt, but it wasn't fucking... Just leave me alone," he finished, his voice cracking, and he pulled his arm out of Oz' hold and headed across the hall, broken mirror crunching under his boots. He felt sick, like he was going to throw up any minute. Maybe he would, who knew.

"Yes, I'd rather you lay into me about that if that's how you're feeling. I said--none of us wanted that. Billy flat out said no, I...I didn't know what to do, all I knew was I didn't want her to do that. We let her bleed out because if we'd done anything to try and help her all it would have done was make her suffer for longer. It was her choice, she knew what she was getting into, and Dean, it was not your fault." he stressed that last bit more than anything else, because that disturbed him. To no end, really. God. "No way in hell, that was not your fault, there was no way you could have known they were going to turn on you and you did what you had to do. There were too many to deal with and you got hurt. Maybe it's my fault for not piling us all up into cars and seeing how fast we could put Marquette behind us for a while. But it's not your fault. Don't even say that."

"It was her or me - that was the choice. Her or me. And you guys chose me. She died so you'd still have me here. I'm the reason she's dead. You can look at it a million ways, but that's what it keeps coming back down to. If I hadn't have got hurt, she'd still be alive right now and don't you try and tell me that she wouldn't, because we both know that's bullshit. I know the way it is, I'm not trying to duck out of that, I don't need protecting from reality," Dean told him, but he'd stopped. Stopped, but not turned round. He still felt sick, this sick, hollow feeling in his stomach.

"You couldn't have known you were going to get hurt! And you aren't fucking perfect, Dean!" Oz said right back. "You say you don't need protecting from reality but I think you need protecting from your fucked perception of it." he said. "Because this isn't on you. It's not. If it's on anyone, it's on whatever sicced these shadow fuckers on everyone in the first place. But it isn't you, just for the end result. That's bullshit, you can't ignore everything else that goes into a situation and only take that final second. It doesn't work that way." He paused for just a second before adding one thing. "It wasn't us who chose you, it was her."

"No, I'm not perfect - but I should be better!" Dean said, hotly, turning back to face Oz again. "If I'd just - my aim was off, I let them throw me. It wasn't - I was off... I - I should be better than that. I'm usually better than that. And today - I wasn't and I was off and if I hadn't then they wouldn't have got anywhere near me and I wasn't - I should be better than that. I'm better than that," Dean said, his composure starting to give.

"You've been doing this for less than a month, and you were taking care of everyone all day yesterday. You were hitting the twentyfour hour mark, or just past it, Dean. You can't expect to be one hundred percent all the time, especially after all of this. Not for how long it was, nothing. At least last time, we had the daytime to rest, this time we don't. You can't blame yourself for getting hurt when every single one of us has as well, and you had six of them on your ass all at once. Not to mention they took you by surprise. This still isn't your fault, Dean. Please understand that." Oz said, willing whatever deities were up there that the kid would filter some of that through.

"I slept last night," Dean told him, his eyes dropping to the floor. She'd made him. He'd lain there and she'd run her fingers through his hair and he'd slept, he'd slept for a couple of hours until the shadows had come back and then he'd done his bit and someone else had taken over the watch and then he'd slept again. Only a couple of hours at a time, but there'd been sleep there. It wasn't like he'd been up all night. Hell, right now he didn't even feel tired, not in the least. He wanted to, he wanted to feel like all he could do was curl up into a small ball and make the world go away, but he was wide-a-fucking-wake. "I slipped and she paid for it - I... Yesterday I could take down six without thinking about it, but... I let them throw me. It shouldn't have made a difference, whether they were coming for me or not, it shouldn't have made a difference and it did. I... I should be better than that. I'm better than that." He'd always been better before, he'd been better when he'd gone hunting with Oz. He hadn't hesitated then, hadn't let the fact that things were trying to kill him bother him then. So why now? When it was important. Why'd he failed when it really mattered?

"Sleep or not doesn't matter. Yes, it's good, it doesn't change the situation. It doesn't change the fact that you still spent all day exhausting yourself protecting everyone, and I'm not talking physically. I'm talking mentally. Emotionally. There's a difference, and sleep doesn't always touch those things one bit. Then you woke right back up into the situation again. Still happening, only today there were more than last night, and they switched their MO. You can't be blamed for this. No one would ever blame you for it but you. Things don't always work out the way you need them to. I'm sorry, Dean. I'm really, really sorry. But...this wasn't anyone's fault. It happened and it's horrible. But that doesn't make it your fault." Oz was also willing to lay ever dime he had in savings and every one he'd continue to get from all of it that Lullaby wasn't going to be coming back tomorrow blaming Dean.

Dean lifted his eyes to Oz' for a moment. "Can we just... Not do this. I... Go back upstairs, Oz. I'll stay down here. Nothing will get up to you. I promise." He said, swallowing down the sick-feeling, the emotions he didn't want to have right now. She'd healed him because he could do just want they were arguing about right now - so he could protect them. he had to be better than he'd been this morning. He had to be. He had to get through this and keep everyone safe and keep himself safe and the easiest way to do that was if people just left him alone.

"It isn't your fault, Dean. I know you take everything that has to do with her really, really to heart, but...you don't have blame here." Oz said. Then he dragged his fingers through his hair. "...it's you who needs to go upstairs." Oz said, voice gentle at this.

"No, I need to stay here," Dean told him, not moving. He ignored the rest of that, he didn't want to be humoured here.

"...you..." Oz started, then sighed. "Dean you're covered in her blood, and yours. You need to go shower. Change." he pointed out. God, he really, really wished he hadn't had to tell Dean to do that. It just said so much about Dean's state of mind and just how far off it was that he had to.

"No, I need to stay here. That's why I'm here - because you needed me, remember? That's why she died - so I could be here, so I could protect you," Dean reminded him, those emotions rising again and sticking in his throat. "So - I'm going to be here, I'm going to be here and... I'm here."

"We have at least an hour before they show again, Dean. Go take care of yourself. If they show early, I'll let you know. But just...go." Oz said. It had the underlying edge of an order this time, even if it wasn't in any way harsh. Just a tone that said he wasn't actually bending on this one.

Dean actually started moving before he pulled himself up, a couple of steps closer to Oz. "No," he said, decisively. "No - we have an hour only because that's how they were acting yesterday. But yesterday they weren't attacking me. Yesterday we'd got rid of most of them. Today's not yesterday. I'm not going anywhere until - I'm staying here. If they come sooner, you haven't got time to come and get me. And we're going to break dawn tomorrow and nobody's going to be hurt."

Oz looked frustrated for a moment, it flickering over his features before he shook his head. "If you're going to be walking around covered in blood--at least stay inside so no one sees you, calls the cops, and you're on the next plane back home to England." he said, turning back towards the house. He didn't know what to do right now, he just knew how indescribably twitchy Dean not changing made him feel. Like he was...reminding himself, or something. Not letting himself let it go, because really, how far can one's mind wander when drenched in the dried blood of a loved one?

"If people don't have better things to do right now..." Dean muttered, but he made no further move away from the door. "But - fine. Will you go back upstairs now? Please?"

"For now...but planning needs to be done, and it'd be best if you were part of it. Don't stay down here alone all day." Oz said, heading back upstairs. This was just...bad. His entire decision to let Thia stay with them seemed to be a bad one. Which wasn't a thought directed at all at the girl in question. He was still feeling hollow and like it wasn't worth the price about it all. She'd died on his watch for the second time. But still...Dean would probably be less blood soaked than he was right now, if she weren't here.