Chapter 1: Look Straight Through Me
Chapter Text
The world wasn’t ending anymore. Heaven wasn’t at war. Hell finally got Crowley back, who pulled it all from straight chaos. Chuck had run away again, without a hold on anyone - but this time it was just a decision, so nothing could go wrong with his hand. Castiel had somehow called his deal off with The Empty - with the help of Billie. Jack was alive, with his soul somehow a part of him again, and Dean got to finally tell Cas everything he wanted, resulting in a very intense “I love you”. “ I know.”
Monsters still existed. Cas was still an angel, and Jack was still a Nephilim.
The question now was “what now?”.
Dean suggested they all go hunting together, but Sam and Cas had other ideas. With Jack now able to just live - they suggested he go into high school.
Dean would scoff at the idea, but he helped forge all the papers needed to get Jack into a local public school. They lied about the fact that he really was only five, and said he was 15, going on to 16 in May.
The whole environment seemed to change by late June, about three months after things had calmed down. The bunker was almost too quiet. Jack had gotten obsessed with another show. The other three did some odd jobs - Dean went back to being a mechanic, Sam manned the house, and Cas was, well Cas.
They promised they’d let themselves have a break once humanity was safe, and now, well they did just that. They promised they wouldn’t hunt, not for a while. It took time, healing. The processing of everything that had happened after Sam left college.
They even ended up trying therapy. Dean didn’t like it, but it did help a bit. Enough for him to stick with it for a few weeks.
Jack spent the summer between saving the world and his first day of school trying to convince Sam to let him hunt, but Sam said no, so he’d go to Cas, who also said no, and then Dean, who’d just take him into the woods, and they’d do something. He also said no.
Life was so strange, without the constant blaring of shotguns, the yellow eyes, being thrown against the walls. Jack hadn’t used his powers for much at all, just to win a few games of Monopoly. It was all-too-bittersweet.
Normal wasn’t in Jack’s vocabulary, as the son of Lucifer. He knew he’d never be “normal” from the time he was born, but this was as normal as life could get.
Sam was starting to help him prepare for school, once July was expiring. Jack had a surprising amount of knowledge - enough to be able to make it through the year. Jack didn’t like studying. It took up so much time, but it seemed that there was too much time anyway. It was almost like he didn’t know what to do with himself.
The first day of school was rough on Jack. He slammed his alarm across the room, inhaled more food than he had basically ever inhaled, rivaling Dean’s love of garbage in the morning, and complained to Dean the whole way there. Jack just didn’t like the whole concept of being stuck for hours a day, learning useless things. The others didn’t even know what he was, or anything that he did. No one knew that he saved the world, twice.
Jack walked into the room on his schedule - they called it “homeroom”, but it really wasn’t home at all. It smelled strange in the room, and the air conditioning was blowing in his face.
He awkwardly sat down in the middle of the room, and pulled a notebook out. It was a really nice one with a leather binding - Jack had picked it out, hoping that it would make him feel better.
He started to try and hide when kids began to walk in. Friends, and Jack never felt more alone. Cas wasn’t there, and the last time Jack used his powers around others, he killed someone. Jack felt like nothing without his powers He was just a kid, naive, and broken.
Jack found his schedule strange - he had two different ones. Why was Theater after Math? Stained glass after English? It was weird, and the worst part was PE, what was it? No one actually explained any of it. He just had to find out on his own - that it was gym. Something he’d heard of, but he didn’t like it.
Health was the strangest, as he didn’t quite understand human anatomy. His own anatomy was so different, but he couldn’t actually let anyone know.
Jack didn’t actually talk throughout the first day. He wanted to just figure out what everything was. Why the other kids just wouldn’t shut up, or get off of their phones when the teacher called.
When it came to lunch, he was just as clueless, and even called Dean, who told him “to find some cute girls”, but Sam definitely tried to give some other advice by yelling in the background, before being thrown across the room by some spirit, assumedly. Jack couldn’t help but laugh, while he searched for someone who looked a bit like Claire, as that was his first crush - which faded a couple months ago.
There was some girl, who he remembered from his PE class. She had brown hair, and striking eyes.
He didn’t have the courage to sit and introduce himself yet, so he just sat at a seemingly empty part of the table with his notebook. He found that Sam had been in charge of his lunch. It was far too obvious - and Jack really only wanted the apple. The rest didn’t look good at all.
Jack was hungry for the rest of the day - but it was better than whatever the hell Sam had concocted.
The best part of the day was when Dean showed up in the Impala, half an hour later than the end of the day. He still smelt like smoke, presumably from some form of fire.
Jack was one of the last people on the sidewalk. The August heat had started to get to him, and once Dean pulled in, Jack was basically drenched in sweat. He excitedly got into the Impala.
The two were silent for a bit, until Jack’s stomach decided to growl.
“Did you eat lunch?” Dean asked, as they pulled into the road.
“I didn’t really like anything. I think Sam packed it.” Jack stated.
“He definitely did - what about lunch? Meet anyone?” Dean asked, and then winked into the rear-view mirror. Jack just shook his head.
“They’re kind of scary, but there’s this girl in my PE class, who sort of looks like Claire?” Jack said, confused.
They talked for a few moments about the kids, and Dean tried to give Jack a motivational speech about finding friends, only to be shut down by the realization that Jack wasn’t listening - he was more involved with a page of lines, that looked vaguely familiar.
They got back to the bunker, and Jack just dragged his backpack behind him, the straps only in his right hand. He just sighed in relief at getting back.
“How’d it go?” Sam asked, as he was walking from the library. Jack chucked the bag onto the wood table under the stairs.
“Well, I hate math. Theater was weird, and no one told me they had you run in school. They even have you change for PE, in a locker room...In front of other people. It’s awful.” Jack stated, and pulled the same sheet out. It was a sheet on planes, lines, and shapes for geometry, and Jack wasn’t super into it. He kept staring at it, confused of all things.
“Cas, do you know any of this?” Jack asked, as Cas was the only one in the room. Sam was probably either making food, or just doing some research - Dean was Dean, and Jack knew that he was just doing Dean things. He was already told that Dean would be of no help anyway.
“I do not. I wasn’t granted with the ability to measure lines.” Cas explained, so Jack just sighed.
“Sam.” He called, and footsteps were heard from the library.
“Yeah, what?” Sam asked. Jack pointed to the sheet.
“Do you know Geometry?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know how much I remember, but I can try to help.” Sam sighed, as he sat beside Jack. The two started trying to figure out simple equations, and Sam kept googling different formulas upon formulas for Jack. Dean had started ordering dinner - as he was never a fan of anything home cooked - especially not from Cas.
It took sometime, and while Jack was working on the final few problems, Sam was going through his bag, and found the mostly full bag of food.
“Is there a reason you didn’t eat your lunch?” Sam asked. Jack looked over, bearing a smile.
“None of it looked good.” Jack blatantly stated. Sam rolled his eyes, and walked into the kitchen, where Dean just said: “I told you”, with his eyes.
Dinner went fine, Jack ended up just eating much more than usual, probably from the whole apple-for-lunch thing.
Sam agreed to let Dean help with the lunches - so Jack would eat at least some of it.
It was a weird night, and Jack had gone to sleep earlier than usual. He found himself wishing the world was still being threatened. It felt better than this stuff. He couldn’t even hunt, or be a Nephilim. He was just Jack.
Awkward.
A week passed. A whole week of school. The weekend was the most exciting part. Jack had tried to introduce himself to the brown-haired-girl, and even tried to speak in class. He wasn’t very well liked, no, the other kids thought he was weird - too weird. Partly because they knew of the family he existed in. The odd bunker with the three weird dads. It also seemed to have no reason - they were preying on Jack’s innocence.
The brown-haired-girl, she was named Taylor, and she was in his PE class, and on the soccer team.
She also seemed to lead a large part of the school - as if it was a popularity contest. Jack had heard of this in movies, but that it actually happened was weird - it was almost spooky.
He was officially a target, and Dean kept trying to convince him that it was just from being new, and that it would stop soon.
Jack wasn’t so sure. It seemed so many people wanted to join in - just because it was happening. He knew that they didn’t really do too much, but it was the “cool” thing to do.
Tease the new kid - who could kill them if he was allowed to try.
That was the hard part, keeping his anger at bay, so his eyes wouldn’t glow gold.
Chapter 2: Look at the Nightmare
Summary:
The beginnings
Notes:
some things obvi changed cuz nothing is ever the same as a first draft
but ay
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Things didn’t pick up until the end of August. It just seemed to drone along, as the heat started to irritate Jack. It made gym class unbearably hot, and well, the air conditioning in the school made the other classes far too cold. Jack just couldn’t win.
It seemed he was still the target. The whole school was in on it now, and it seemed only his English teacher actually liked him. She thought he had such fresh eyes to look at things - he liked hearing that.
Dean was the one who usually picked him up from school, and Jack always complained about the kids. He’d talk of Taylor, who really liked to give him backhanded compliments. They confused the hell out of him, because she would tell him these nice things, but then break him throughout the second part. Dean had to tell him that it was a new way of teasing him, again; which definitely didn’t help Jack’s case.
Sometimes Sam would pick him up, and Jack would tell him everything as well, but Sam would tell Jack to ignore it. They’d stop if he would just pretend that he didn’t hear them, but Jack kept telling Sam that he had tried it.
Cas just kept getting confused, and told Jack to just push them across the football field, before being reminded by Dean, that no, that is not how you handle it - which would lead to another playful argument.
Jack despised health class and gym the most. They were scary, really. Health was just weird, and apparently he didn’t exactly have the same body, and it just had become more apparent that Jack was still a monster.
Gym class sucked for other reasons. Jack didn’t understand game rules at all - Football was weird, Soccer confused him, and there was literally no reason for them to play Ultimate Frisbee. The weirdest part was weightlifting. Every Tuesday they’d go into the weight lifting room, and they’d do strange workouts with partners. Jack had partnered with this other boy, whom he didn’t speak too all that much. Jack just did the exercises, and waited silently before doing it again.
They had a test in gym, which Jack didn’t really understand. What would they even test him on? He couldn’t really figure that out at all.
It was September 7th, and he stood in the gym hall - his body covered only by the grey shorts and the white shirt he had on. His sneakers felt snug with the socks he had on.
It seemed that people were being called one-by-one into the weight room, but for something that Jack didn’t know. He just sat by the matted wall, waiting for them to call his name.
“Kline.” Jack heard the teacher say, so he got up, and walked towards the room. Eyes seemed to burn into his back as he left.
There was a weird contraption in the room; they had called it a scale apparently, as they explained the test. It was on weight - they had to lift a certain percent of their weight, so this was to measure that.
Jack wasn’t sure of the significance of weight - he just knew it measured his body in some way.
He was told to just step up with his shoes off, so he did. The surface was rubber, and it felt sort of nice below his feet. He found himself peering at the number, when it had come up.
145.
Odd - that felt like it was high, as it was just a pretty large number for a single human being. He felt sort of disheartened, and for no reason. No one had ever said anything about it.
“How tall are you?” The teacher asked. Jack felt his eyes widen. He had only really figured that out once, but it had been a while ago, while being compared to Sam.
“Five...foot...ten?” Jack guessed, but the teacher had just shrugged, so Jack assumed it was fine. He was given permission to leave, and when he got back to the gym - Taylor was standing, a smug look on her face.
He wasn’t sure what for, but his heart rate picked up.
“So, how much?” Taylor asked, and another kid came from behind, circled him a bit. Jack seemed to take so much of his energy to not chuck her across the room.
“I bet it’s 160, it’s definitely what he looks like.” The other kid said, snarkily. Jack just looked confused.
“Actually 145, you’re a little off.” He stated, hoping they’d stop, but really he knew this was just another way of teasing. He wanted nothing to do with it.
“Guess that means you’re chubby, huh.” Tayler pointed out, and it cut Jack. He found himself just defeat, but they didn’t really want to stop as he walked away.
He kept hearing the words as he walked back into the locker room, hoping to hide.
Jack found himself standing by the single mirror. The words seemed to fall through his mind. He had never seemed to care about his body, but now, suddenly, it mattered. He pinched, poked, and prodded at parts that could change.
They’d stop if he changed.
The rest of the day was spent trying to figure out how to lose weight - but google didn’t seem to help all that much. Jack just found a bunch of weird diets that made no sense.
The one thing that seemed to stick was to eat less - so that’s what Jack swore to do.
He took the leatherbound notebook out, and wrote his weight in a corner, and swore to change it.
Waiting for Dean that day, it felt strange - he didn’t want to say anything, just in fear that things might end up going haywire, but he also trusted Dean.
Jack waited in the early September heat with some real anger boiling. This was one thing he couldn’t just change so quickly - not with the angel part of him.
Dean had pulled up. He wasn’t as late as he used to be - but it wasn’t on time yet either.
Jack climbed into the car, and his shoulders just dropped.
“Bad day?” Dean asked. Jack just quickly shook his head.
“No, not really.” He lied, but Dean had finally figured Jack out, and the way he darted his eyes when lying.
“What happened?” Dean asked. Jack seemed to adjust his seat, anxiety seemed to course through him.
“Is 145 a lot?” Jack asked, blatantly, confusing Dean.
“As what? A score? Weight? Pens?” Dean asked.
“Weight - they did it in gym.” Jack explained. He tried to show no negative feelings towards it - as it was crucial to hide.
“Then no, it’s completely fine.” Dean said, but Jack noticed the slightest hint of concern in his voice - which wasn’t something Dean liked to show.
“It’s just that, Taylor kept saying it was.” Jack stated.
“She’s just taking a piss out of you. Nothing she says actually means anything, really.” Dean explained to Jack, who just took to silence, and stared out the window on the way home.
Dean’s words didn’t change much, but now it put this idea on Dean’s radar, and anything on Dean’s radar goes to Cas’s radar, which ends up on Sam’s radar.
Jack just had to keep this a secret - a tormented secret.
Notes:
lemme know thoughts if you're so inclined
Chapter 3: Our Past is but a Dream
Summary:
Jack doesn't quite understand what he's doing
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The first few days were weird. Jack had to make excuses for why he wasn’t eating as much.
He was adjusting.
He ate more at school.
He was just not hungry.
They were believable for now, but he assumed things would get harder. Nothing passed the all-seeing eye of Castiel, or the watchful glares of either Winchester. He was in the clear for the moment, but planning ahead was not out of the question.
It wasn’t until Sam, Dean, and Cas went out on a multi-day hunt; that Jack ended up buying a scale with a credit card that Dean gave him. He bought a really nice one - it had some form of glass, or plexiglass...he didn’t know. He had also started another notebook, a leatherbound one that would remain hidden.
He would log everything into it - he promised. It was the only way to track his progress.
The first few days confused him.
Day one he was at 144.6
Then on day two it was 146.4
145.2
144.4
The constant fluctuations of numbers bothered him, but it was apparently normal, he learned from a quick google search. They were annoying, yes, but not completely infuriating. He just learned when things would change, and how it felt when the numbers would go down or up.
It was easy for the week that he spent alone, but when they came home, he realized that he can’t leave the scale in the bathroom, or the notebook on his bed. He can’t just not eat, or attempt to make versions of food that was super low in calories. They’d pretty much notice immediately, so he had to get sneaky.
It wasn’t the worst thing he’d done, and if it would stop the kids, he was ok with it.
The first day back was already awkward. Dean had brought food back, when they had gotten back. Jack found himself freezing. He hadn’t exactly eaten yet, so he would be fine. It was just crazy - how fast the fears manifested. He was still ok with the concept of fast food a week ago - but now, it just felt weird. It wasn’t scary, or debilitating. It was just a strange concept.
He ate a bit of the food on his plate, and then just picked at it - much to the dismay of Cas.
“Is something wrong, Jack? You’ve been picking at your plate for the last ten minutes.” Cas pointed out. Jack just shrugged.
“I’m not really that hungry, I guess.” Jack said, hoping it excused the food on his plate. Dean seemed to think nothing of it, Sam gave a look, but it didn’t seem to phase him too much. He was also someone who didn’t do well when things seemed to loom.
Jack just retreated to his room, leaving a half-full plate. He felt an odd heaviness in his body, as he sat on his bed. It wasn’t comfortable - he didn’t like the feeling at all. It made him feel fat - frankly. He just felt gross.
It was late, and he felt awfully tired, as frustrating as it was.
Jack wanted nothing more than to stay up and do a bunch of completely useless exercise in his room, but he his body just didn’t want it, and he crashed while his computer was still on.
He awoke under his covers, which meant Cas had probably gotten bored of watching Dean, and ended up tucking him into bed.
He felt groggy, as if he hadn’t really gotten any sleep at all. He tried to shake himself awake before heading to the bathroom.
He had to pee before he would weigh himself, as the weight wouldn’t be accurate.
Jack awkwardly snuck past a groggy Sam, and went to piss.
Back in his room, he locked the door for a few moments, just so no one would barge in while he was vulnerable.
He pulled the scale from behind the chair, and stepped on it.
144.2.
He wrote the number down in his journal, and quickly hid everything again.
He didn’t like the lying, but it was the only thing that kept anyone off of his trail. The last thing he wanted was anyone to find out. Mental health was not their strong suit.
Jack went into the kitchen to make breakfast, which he had been trying to skip, as he read that it would help him lose - but Sam was not having it.
He cleared his throat, as Jack sat with just coffee.
“You going to eat?” Sam asked. Jack put the cup down.
“I’m not that hungry.” Jack lied. Sam sighed and shoved a banana to Jack.
“Eat, at least something. School isn’t easy on an empty stomach.” Sam explained. Jack just sighed and unpeeled the banana. He slowly ate it, hoping Sam didn’t notice any of the hesitation.
Jack ended up running into Cas as he walked out into the library, who was just being Cas and standing, staring.
“How’d you sleep?” Cas asked. Jack shrugged, as he prepared his bag. The early morning light really let itself be known through the window - illuminating the large room in a very soft light.
“Fine...but why’d you tuck me in? I’m not a child.” Jack asked. Cas just shrugged.
“Well, you’re still technically five - also I get bored sometimes, not sleeping is weird when you are the only one.” Cas explained, which basically confirmed Jack’s theory.
Once Sam had finished in the kitchen, he walked out to take Jack to school, as Dean usually slept until noon, which Sam usually showed his dismay towards.
“You ready?” Sam asked. Jack pulled the backpack straps on, and nodded.
“Yes.” He said, nervous. The whole bullying thing hadn’t stopped, even when Dean kept reassuring him that it was only because of being new.
It was now nearing the end of September, and Jack was still the target - less of one, yes, but it was still pretty crappy.
He did stop telling Dean everything on the short trip home. It just felt weird to do so - as he had the fear of spilling all the secrets, which had Dean assuming it all had ended, so he stopped worrying.
Walking into first period was always awkward. He felt like every eye in the room was on him, but when he looked up, no one cared. Everyone was either on their phones, or doing last - minute homework, reading the Shakespeare play they had to read - King Lear.
He sat, and pulled out his own copy of King Lear, and started reading the few pages he didn’t get to the night before.
It was a good play, but it reminded him of Chuck - and the stories he’d hear from Gabriel. It wasn’t the easiest play to read, not after being in The Empty, from the tragic run-in with Chuck.
He couldn’t say anything about it though, so it just ended up being buried like everything else.
It was a red day, so Jack had Math, Theater, PE, and English. He didn’t hate these days, he really just didn’t like PE. It was mentally taxing to just exist in the gym, let alone strip to his underwear in front of other people.
Jack found himself trying to hide by his locker while taking his shirt off, hoping no one would stare him down. He swore he could feel eyes on him, but again, people were more intrigued with their own attempts of hiding.
Jack was just hyper aware of all the hatred he had for himself - and it manifested into a fear of judgement from others.
He pulled one of Dean’s old baggy shirts over his torso, and a pair of Sam’s gym shorts from high school over his hips. It all fit awkwardly, but he had yet to get his own clothes - a promise that Dean had made over a year ago. That when it was all over, he’d take Jack to pick out his own clothes. Jack just assumed that Dean forgot, which was fine.
It was another day of Soccer, and Jack being picked last for teams. It was definitely the other students’ way of still giving him crap, but not getting in trouble for direct bullying, as the school was cracking down a bit.
Jack found it annoying, that he couldn’t use his powers to prove to the others that he wasn’t incompetent. He can kick Soccer balls, but his human side was never trained, so he kind of sucked at it.
The most frustrating part of the class was his exhaustion. He had run the two warm-up laps, and found himself feeling defeated. He had read about being tired, but that was for humans. He wasn’t fully human, so why was he tired? Food couldn’t be that important, really.
Notes:
it begins ig
The first weeks are really not dramatic lol
especially in restriction (at least not in my experience, but even in my worst moments, I wasn't dramatic - but drama makes stories fun)
Chapter 4: That We're Trying to Escape
Summary:
A lil huntin'
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The weather had now grown chilly - not cold, no, just chilly, and Jack didn’t expect to be as cold as he was. His body temperature had gown down apparently, and he assumed it was from what he was doing.
He had started to eat less, never eating lunch, the same stupid size banana for breakfast, and the same dinner of planned out food. It never surpassed 700 calories; Jack made sure of that. He was determined to lose what he could before it would start getting rough - he read that the body would fight back at one point. They never said what would actually happen, so he just had to prepare himself for it.
Cas and Dean never really questioned the change in habits - they just assumed that Jack was adjusting to a normal life. Sam seemed to sometimes observe Jack during dinner. He never seemed worried though, just observant of Jack. Probably just a bit of a reflex from a parent - Jack would assume.
It was Dean who promised to take Jack with them on a hunt during fall break, as he had a week, and some bigger hunts were emerging.
There was a Wendigo back in Colorado, which was really the perfect spot. The large forest areas, vast amount of hikers, the Rocky Mountains. It was only the perfect spot.
So Dean had picked Jack up from school, and they started the drive to Colorado. Jack couldn’t really shut up the whole drive. They had driven the full seven hours, and grabbed a shabby motel for the night - making sure it had a couch for Jack.
As the night went on, Dean was officially drooling on his pillow in a deep sleep, and Sam was finally in a relaxed state of dream, Jack and Cas just awkwardly sat on the couch. Jack had slept all he really needed to, and Cas was Cas, he didn’t sleep. They just seemed to sit awkwardly, watching the hotel TV channels quietly enough to not wake anyone at about five in the morning.
It didn’t get awkward until Cas started talking.
“Have the kids at school really stopped?” Cas asked, curious, causing Jack’s eyes to widen, as if he was a deer in the headlights. Jack got quiet for a second, as his heart beat faster. He found his gaze falling to the floor.
“No, they haven’t, not really.” Jack finally said. It was almost relieving to get that out into the air. As long as Cas didn’t ask about food, he’d be fine.
“Not really? So, it is less?” Cas asked. Jack just nodded slowly.
“Yes, but it’s not gone...I wish they would just stop.” Jack said. The defeat in his voice seemed to bounce off of Cas, leaving a concerned expression.
“Sometimes you need to ignore it, as hard as it is. Mostly they’re just bored.” Cas explained - Jack just nodded. He wasn’t really into the conversation. He knew they’d stop if he just lost more weight, that was the reason they kept doing it, right?
Another two hours passed by, and a loud alarm awoke both Sam and Dean.
Once everyone had readied themselves, Dean suggested breakfast - which was assumedly at some strange diner. Jack found himself freezing. He had gotten away with not eating it, or with a banana back at the bunker, because no one really ate at the same time.
Here it was scary - everyone was eating the same time. Eyes were everywhere, and if he didn’t eat - they wouldn’t let him hear the end of it.
Jack observed the menu, and the tiny numbers at the bottom of the descriptions. He settled on some form of breakfast sandwich with about 300 calories. It wasn’t great, but he couldn’t let anyone know what was going on.
Jack spent a long time just ripping the pieces of the sandwich, and consuming it in a deconstructed form - which seemed to irk Dean a bit, but not enough for words.
He was in the clear for now.
Until it they started working their way into the woods. Jack hadn’t eaten nearly enough for lunch, and the past month of not eating had gotten to him. The stampeding through branches and brambles was hard, even for him, a Nephilim.
Dean had the idea of just doing everything that day, instead of a whole investigation, especially with the knowledge they had from the first time.
“Alright, so, we’ll burn the bitch, and get out as fast as possible. I hate these things.” Dean explained. They were now deep into the woods. Jack was tired, and Cas was confused. He wasn’t the biggest fan of forested areas.
Jack was the one who got pulled down this time; into the dusty and awfully bloody cave. The fall caught him off guard, and he found some black spots in his vision, before picking himself up, and calling out to the others.
He couldn’t help but feel terrified. It was something he rarely felt, but now, if he used his powers, he’d basically drain everything he had. The only good thing was that his body still healed any wounds, instantly. It was the one thing that kept him from completely freaking out.
He was quiet. Very quiet, hoping the beast wouldn’t be able to find him in the dark. His heart was the one thing he could hear - thumping.
Sounds of distress came from another corner of the cave, which sounded too much like Sam being dragged, so Jack had to act quick. He flew to the sight, and found himself beside Cas, who had acted just as quick.
Jack acted on impulse, which basically drained everything he had in him. He had gotten Sam away from the beast, but he couldn’t exactly make it back to his feet, which lead Cas to basically carrying him from the cave, while Dean torched it.
Jack held onto Cas for a few moments, while they began the long walk back in the blooming darkness of evening. It wasn’t a crazy long hunt, surprisingly. They just spent a day with it, and it was over. This was much easier than the last time Jack had hunted, mainly because they already knew what it was.
Throughout the walk, Jack started to get back onto his own feet, as he found the black dots to go away. By the time they got back to the Impala, Jack felt somewhat decent. Hungry, yes, and the adrenaline began wearing off; causing Jack to see the spots again.
“Let’s say we hit up another diner, grab something.” Dean suggested, as he tended to do, and Jack found himself with a sharp inhale. He frankly didn’t exactly feel up to food, which was ironic, knowing that the feeling was brought on by hunger.
“I need a shower, first of all.” Sam stated.
They ended up dropping Sam at the motel, promising to bring something back, and then drove to a diner.
Jack tried scanning the menu for something he could eat without the guilt that would plague him. He ordered the same thing as earlier - until Dean interjected, ordering another thing of fries to go along with it. Jack couldn’t help but feel a fear in his blood - and he made sure to hide it.
“I didn’t ask for fries.” Jack stated, once the waitress had left.
“After what happened earlier, you need more than some crappy egg sandwich.” Dean explained. Jack just rolled his eyes. Cas seemed just as concerned with Jack, but didn’t quite know what to say.
“I’m fine, really.” He lied, but when the food came, he basically inhaled the fries from hunger.
“Yeah, sure,” Dean stated, jokingly. He gave a gentle pat on Jack’s shoulder, before heading to the bathroom. “You need to eat kid, even if you’re half angel.”
Jack was left with a guilty feeling, and Cas’s concerned eyes burning into him.
Notes:
dude, it becomes so apparent that i'm mainly a realistic fiction writer -
hunts are so hard to write - at least action is
Chapter Text
October was beginning to come to its’ close, and with it came the signs of frigid winter air. The leaves had now fully fallen off of the trees, leaving the trees barren. Jack had kept himself in check - still eating the same 700 calories, hoping it’d be the stupid solution to his problems.
No longer was he the target of bullying, no, the novelty was fading, just as he was. Now, this was his problem - it had started becoming addicting. He couldn’t really stop.
Jack ended up at the library table again, with some small plate of whatever Sam had tried to make. He could trust Sam, and his food. It was usually better than when Dean made anything. Jack never really ate any of Dean’s food - the excuse of it being too greasy seemed to work just fine.
He was picking at the plate, again. It wasn’t bad; he just didn’t feel that great physically. He wasn’t sure if it was just anxiety, or if he could get sick. He just knew that if he did eat, it wouldn’t be staying down, so he just got up from the table, and walked up to his room, leaving a full plate.
He was preparing to weigh himself, just to keep his mind from getting the better of him, but before he could pull it out, there was a knock on the door.
“One second,” Jack called out, and quickly put the scale back out of sight. “You can come in.” He said, and the door opened. Dean, of all people, walked in, and sat on Jack’s bed. It was almost terrifying, if it hadn’t been for the somber aura that Dean gave off as he inhaled.
“Jack, are you sure you’re ok?” Dean asked, suddenly. Jack’s shoulders dropped a bit. Part of him wanted to explain everything that was happening, but there was something holding him back - completely.
“Yeah, really. I’m fine.” Jack lied. He was terrified to make eye contact, as it would give everything away.
“You know, you’ve lost a crap ton of weight.” Dean stated - concerned. Jack found himself stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t really thought of what he would do if this actually happened.
“Have I?” Jack asked, playing stupid. It was the easiest way out of the whole thing.
“Yeah, and it’s kind of concerning.” Dean pointed out, trying to keep his usual tone of sarcasm in his voice. Jack found himself sitting in the small chair, across from his bed.
“Sorry. It’s probably because I’m not hunting. I’m not as hungry as I was.” Jack stated. That wasn’t a lie, but he was pretty hungry now.
“So this isn’t because of that time in gym?” Dean asked. Jack just shook his head. It was, yes, but at this point it became much more. He couldn’t say it was because of that anymore. He had found the one coping mechanism that actually worked.
“No...no, not at all. They stopped a week ago, haven’t bothered me since.” Jack explained. He found his hands running up and down his collarbones. He found it calmed him down.
“Well that’s nice, but still, I’m worried about you, you know. We all are.” Dean said, as his voice lowered. Jack almost wanted to laugh. Dean was never vulnerable, so this was either super serious to Dean, or he was being funny. Jack didn’t want to think that it was the real deal, but that’s all it could be, really.
“You don’t have to be, really.” Jack assured him, but Dean seemed unable to let it go.
“If you ever need anything, you’ll let me know, right?” Dean asked.
“I will, I promise,” Jack said, and as Dean got up to leave. “Are you ok, Dean? You’re not the one that gets worried.” Jack asked. Dean just smiled as he walked out of the door.
“Sometimes I do.” Dean said, and he gently closed the door.
Jack went back to pulling the scale out, and he quickly just stepped on.
126.8.
He wrote it in his notebook, and finished getting ready to sleep. It wasn’t super late, but they tended to eat dinner at 10 pm out of habit - it was better than the diner runs at midnight, even though Jack did miss those nights. The post-hunting feeling of consuming some greasy sandwich in a dingy diner. He missed it, he missed food, and he missed feeling alive.
Jack crawled into bed. He felt a strange pang of hunger in his body. He couldn’t help but find the reminiscing strange. Part of him wished that he was just normal again. It had only been two months, but it never actually occurred to him that he couldn’t actually just stop.
The thought of eating normally just sent him into a panic, which just solidified the idea of an addiction..
Notes:
Short lil chapter just to keep writing
bc writer's block is destroying me
Chapter 6: To Erase Ourselves
Summary:
Jack finds a newfound obsession with food, and it sucks
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jack had noticed the way his body was different, as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He noticed the little ways his bones brushed closer to his skin. The sharper angle of his hip bones, ribs, and chest. It was almost satisfying - if he could relax and not have to constantly run and hide with the fear of anyone seeing.
Food had started to become difficult - Jack noticed the way his body started to fight back, as predicted. He ended up eating far too much some nights, and it’d just be this awful feeling he had to sit with.
Purging was something he read about, but not something he wanted to do. Frankly, it scared him. He knew it would feel good, but the actual thought was unfathomable.
It was easier to sit with the discomfort.
Sometimes he’d force himself to eat less the next day, to make up for it. It was the only thing that felt right - but it didn’t actually end up that well. He’d either eat the normal amount of calories or eat too much again. He felt pretty ridiculous.
November wasn’t really that nice of a month. Jack found it frankly irritating - the way he kept eating too much somehow kept his weight at the 118 mark. It’d go up, and down, but always around 118.
118.4.
119.2
118.6.
It was frustrating, yes, for the number to not go down - but it also made it easier to hide for Jack. Dean was off of his trail, as he proved that he ate more than what Dean called “rabbit food”.
No longer was Jack the target of any bullying, interestingly enough - he was now just consumed with the stupid disorder.
The school was preparing for finals week, which Jack had never really expected. It was a week of these crazy long, and frustrating tests. Jack noticed the many moments, where all he wanted to do was chuck the paper across the room and run out of the room.
He noticed the way his eyes began to light with frustration, but he made sure to hide it before he acted on it.
Friday afternoon’s PE final was awful. Running two laps felt pretty much impossible, and with his loss of weight, he didn’t really have the same strength, so he tapped into his powers to get through.
Afterwards, he was wiped, and sat beside one of the matted walls in the gym. The period was awfully slow-moving, especially because it was the last of the day, before another break, which meant another hunting trip basically the next morning.
Jack went to change quite some time before the bell. The empty locker room was almost eerie, but he already checked for hauntings at the school.
He ended up stripping into his boxers, and just staring at a mirror, again, his clothes beside him.
He observed the movements of his ribs, as he picked up the white shirt. It swallowed him, as he put it on. His pants weren’t any different. He had to poke new holes into the belt that once belonged to Dean.
The bell ended up ringing, and Jack made his way to the curb. He was far too ready to get away from the school for two weeks.
Dean pulled up, and Jack quickly got in. He was far too eager.
“How was the last day?” Dean asked. Jack slumped in the seat.
“I hate it. Why do they make you take such big tests right before breaks?” Jack asked, confused.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I never liked it either. You’re free now, right? Two weeks off.” Dean said, hoping to lift Jack’s spirits.
“Yeah, but two weeks isn’t that much.” Jack said. He found his fingers shaking just a bit, and he wasn’t sure if it was stress or low blood sugar - assumedly both.
“Hey, we’ll grab a hunt, and then even try and celebrate the holidays, you know, if we can convince Sam.” Dean said, hoping to reassure Jack.
Back at the bunker, Jack found an almost horrifying smell begin to waft.
“What’s that?” He asked Dean, who just smiled.
“I thought, as a celebration of your first semester, we all celebrate with pizza, you know? I know it’s been super rough.” Dean explained, which caused Jack to freeze for a bit. This was the opposite of a surprise.
Jack shook his head.
“I’m not hungry right now. Maybe later, ok?” Jack said, and went to head to his room. He frankly wanted to be alone, to unwind from the last week of stress.
Dean looked confused, and he exchanged the confused look with Sam, who just mouthed “dinner”.
Jack spent some time in headphones, watching some strange movies, which was a usual pastime of his for right after school - but it seemed to change from the most usual movies, to documentaries on food.
He had acquired a strange obsession with food. The longer he went with restricting, the more obsessed he was becoming with food. It was strange, but apparently not uncommon. Watching the videos seemed to feed his obsession, as well as turn him off of food - even though he just wanted it all the time.
He was going crazy - and this was another sign.
“Jack, dinner.” Sam said, from outside of the door. Jack shut the laptop, and made his way to the library. The smell of pizza came back, and he just wanted all of it, basically, but he couldn’t.
The array of food was much larger now, and eyes were on him.
“There’s a case about three hours from here, some vengeful spirit. I say we head out tomorrow.” Dean stated, as Jack put a single slice on his plate, and kept blotting the cheese, to drain the oil. The calories probably didn’t matter too much, but it was just a precaution.
Jack finished the first piece, and spent so much time trying to not touch anything else. He was still hungry, mentally and physically. He was always so stupidly hungry.
It was Sam who tried to get him to eat another piece “because there was too much”. Pressure brought it upon him, and he grabbed another piece, but he had a bit of a plan - it happened before.
Jack said he was going to the bathroom, and grabbed some napkins from the kitchen. It was foolproof, really, he chewed the food, and spit it into a napkin.
Gross, absolutely, but most of that attention went onto Dean and his own strange habits of shoving far too much food into his mouth at once.
He was sneaky. Every time he spit, he used a different reason. Sneezing twice, and then just to get food off of his face. Pizza wasn’t crazy hard to hide. The last two were just when no one was watching.
Those were risky, and when he had a chance, Jack walked into the kitchen, the disgusting globs of food in his hoodie pocket.
He chucked them into the trash, and walked back to the table, as if nothing had happened.
No one actually suspected anything - surprisingly.
So Jack just sat down, as if nothing was wrong.
Notes:
also this won't end up stupid long, I hope (unlike everything that ends up with 30+ chapters of nonsense)
Chapter 7: Look Through Me
Summary:
Jack's habits start causing concern
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean and Cas had decided to stay behind at the bunker, because Cas insisted he wanted to decorate the entire library for the holidays - and as much as Dean didn’t want to stay, he didn’t want to leave Cas alone either; the last time hadn’t ended well at all.
The tree was Cas’s idea as well, and he absolutely had to choose the largest one, which ended up by the stairs.
The Impala had a completely different environment. Jack just awkwardly sat in the passenger seat, and Sam kept skipping through the radio, trying to get a station without christmas music.
It was amusing to Jack; watching Sam get irritated enough to actually listen to Dean’s music.
No exchange of words happened for a solid hour of the drive. Jack was distracted with something on his phone, and Sam just kept getting irritated with the array of different christmas decorations on buildings.
“Why don’t you like christmas, Sam?” Jack finally asked, breaking the silence. Sam shook his head.
“A lot of bad memories attached to it - honestly. Nothing more.” Sam explained. Jack nodded in understanding.
“So what changed your mind?” Jack asked, curiously.
“I don’t know, time, I guess.” Sam said, but it was obvious he was still on the fence. Jack thought nothing more of it, and the absolutely awkward drive continued.
The bunker was different. Cas was going a bit crazy with the tree, and Dean kept trying to get the lights to work, but all the sockets were slightly out of reach.
Through Dean’s frustrated grunts, as he searched desperately for an extension cord, Cas kept finding different holiday songs to listen to, trying to find a good one - much to the annoyance of Dean.
Once Dean had come back with an extension cord, Cas figured out how to top the tree. They definitely didn’t use an angel to top the tree.
Dean moved on to adding some cheap ornaments to the branches.
“Something’s up with Jack.” Cas pointed out - which stopped Dean in his tracks. The Jack conversation had finally moved between just Dean and Jack.
“I know, I’ve already asked him about it.” Dean said. He was definitely worried, and even when Jack reassured him - it didn’t feel real.
“What did he say?” Cas asked.
“That he was fine, and he doesn’t really lie.” Dean said, but no, it wasn’t believable, even Jack had weak points - and this was one of them.
“Well, then he’s fine, right?” Cas asked, as he climbed the stairs to reach higher up points on the tree.
“I’m not sure, actually. It wasn’t the most believable.” Dean stated.
“We can ask him again, when he’s back?” Cas suggested, but Dean shook his head.
“It’s obviously eating him, but with Jack, you know, he can get angry, and that never ends well,” Dean said, as he walked up the stairs towards Cas, who was absolutely in distress. “He’ll let us know if something happens, you know that.” Dean said, trying to reassure himself, but the doubt never left.
“Well, yes, it is Jack after all.” Cas stated, his voice satisfied.
After Sam had checked into they motel, they ended up going for food. With Sam, Jack felt less scared, as Sam just took him to a grocery store. Jack tried to hide the fact that he was searching desperately for a label that didn’t feel awfully high. With every person that passed, he’d look up and hope it just wasn’t Sam.
It wasn’t Dean or Cas that he feared when it came to confrontation, no, it was Sam. Sam actually knew something about food - even this, obviously. If he figured it out, Jack would see no end to it.
He eventually found some sushi, and happily handed it to Sam, who thought nothing of it. They paid, and went back to the motel for research - which usually was Sam’s job. Jack was mainly there for the physical stuff - and for moral support, assumedly.
Jack went to take a shower, mainly from boredom. He closed the bathroom door, and stripped naked. The mirror tempted him, but so did the shower. He liked the feeling of water, especially when it beat down his back. The constant pressure relaxed him.
It was after the shower, when the mirror won. He found himself staring at his reflection down in his boxers, again. He spent so much time observing the way his bones moved inside the thin skin. He loved the veins around his neck, and the way the tendons moved. It was fascinating to watch. Part of the reason that kept Jack in this whole thing. He was stupid addicted.
It wasn’t until Sam knocked on the door, that Jack quickly pulled clothes onto himself, and with haste.
“You good in there?” Sam asked. Jack snatched the laundry, and opened the door.
“I’m perfectly fine.” Jack said, and shoved the clothes into his duffel. He laid himself onto the bed, and pulled the sushi from the end table.
“So this shouldn’t be too long. The body was buried, we’ll just need to figure out where.” Sam stated, as Jack began picking the rice off of the vegetables, as he tried to consume only the veggies in the roll. It was far too late to eat much more - a stupid rule that had emerged less than a week ago.
He left the rice on the end table, in the original packaging, and brushed his teeth. The food was terrifying him, but he had to just fight through the awful feelings and somehow sleep without weighing himself.
The food seemed heavy. He had probably gained from the food. Had he not eaten, he would’ve been better off. He just couldn’t not weigh himself. This was ridiculous.
Jack eventually found the thoughts to ease off, and he fell asleep for a few hours. He slept more now, even though he technically didn’t need much. It was the exhaustion of existing that kept him sleeping for hours more. His body definitely wasn’t in full-working order, and it was becoming too apparent to himself - which would eventually reveal itself to everyone else.
The morning sun seemed to blind him, as he blinked his eyes open. Sam was apparently already awake, and had gotten breakfast when Jack pushed himself off of the bed.
“Hey, I, uh, finished it..” Sam stated. Jack just looked confused.
“What time is it?” Jack asked, groggily.
“It’s noon, you’ve been asleep all morning.” Sam pointed out. Jack sat back onto the bed, and checked his phone, just to validate. It was indeed noon.
“So you did all the research already?” Jack asked. Sam just nodded.
“Yeah, it wasn’t a problem. She was cremated, so I ended up having to burn a pair of really old socks,” Sam explained, and then turned the swivel chair towards Jack. “Oh by the way, I have food, but I wasn’t sure if you were saving that sushi skin for today, or you just weren’t eating rice now.” Sam asked. Jack looked up, trying to hide the fear behind his eyes.
“I was going to eat it, promise. With breakfast.” Jack said, and Sam tossed him another breakfast sandwich.
“Good. Sorry about the hunt anyway, I know you wanted more than some angry ghost.” Sam apologized, but it still irked Jack. He wanted that escape, but it wouldn’t be the last hunt during the break. It was just interesting, how few monsters seemed to show themselves at this point after saving the world.
“It’s ok. There will be another one.” Jack stated, and he ate the sushi rice, and picked at the breakfast sandwich. He didn’t know the calories, and promised to frantically google in the car later.
“I promise we’ll make it exciting. C’mon, let’s head home. I bet the tree will be up.” Sam said, and Jack grabbed his bag from the bed, disappointed, and just as he expected - he was googling the calories in breakfast sandwiches, choosing the highest one, and basically freaking out over the stupid rice - still moping over sleeping too much.
Notes:
man, writer's block can suck it
also re-watching season 7 is stupidly triggering lol
Chapter 8: Behold Your Child
Summary:
Christmas part 1 with everyone
Chapter Text
Christmas Eve, something Dean wanted to celebrate for many years, as the last one was ruined by some pagan gods.
Sam just wanted to invite friends without the whole Christmas thing.
Cas wanted to spend time with Dean, and just wanted to experience this part of normal life.
Jack was an excited kid - literally, this was the first time celebrating Christmas, and he was ecstatic - until the afternoon.
Sam was actually cooking food, and a whole bunch of it - which meant there would be a lot of it, and he was expected to eat.
Throughout the day it seemed people kept arriving, and some of them Jack knew. Jody, Claire, Alex, and Patience. He knew them very well.
Then he saw Gabriel, who apparently wasn’t dead - again. Then the apparent King of Hell, Crowley, who gave himself a second to look at Jack like some proud uncle, much to Dean and Cas’s amusement. It was more like an awkward family reunion, but with a family full of mismatched souls - who were all damaged in some way.
The smell of food seemed to waft through the bunker, as time went on. It wasn’t a fun notion for Jack, as that meant food was on the horizon, but with other angels - it might be easier to eat close to nothing.
It was Claire who first talked to him - which was exciting.
“I heard you’re in school now, huh?” She asked. Jack stood awkwardly, shifting his weight between feet.
“Yeah, Sophomore apparently.” He stated, as his cheeks flushed just the slightest.
“Wait, how old are you really though?” Claire asked, jokingly.
“Five and a half, but my fake birth certificate says fifteen, sixteen in a few months.” Jack explained, unashamed.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Claire asked, confusing Jack.
“What is?”
“School, obviously.” She said, and Jack nodded slowly.
“The other kids didn’t like me, not at the beginning.” Jack explained, quietly.
They were still standing on the stairs, much to the dismay of just a few others. Claire moved Jack down, as they kept talking. Jack explained the bullying, and Claire just told some of her own stories from high school - reassuring Jack that this was not his fault.
Jack bumped into a group of familiar faces, and Crowley, who was spending the night trying to avoid his mother from telling old stories - again.
He was roped in, as they started to ask questions, while consuming the strangest looking cookies with a green frosting. It was odd to Jack, people eating before they’ll be eating again, as if food would never exist again.
“How’s school?”
“What will you do now?”
“How is it, living here?”
Crowley noticed the discomfort that had come over Jack, and gave the others a glare.
“Quiet, can’t you see he’s fragile.” Crowley remarked, which caused Jack to roll his eyes, but he thanked Crowley for getting him out of the situation.
Jack wanted nothing more than to escape to his room. Dean told him that it was just a few friends, but it seemed everyone they knew was here - which seemed ridiculous.
It was nice though, to talk to more folks.
“How’re you holding up?” Dean asked, alcohol already in hand, as he leaned up against the same pillar as Jack.
“It’s a lot, but I did get to talk to Claire. That was nice.” Jack said. He found the chaos both awful and yet, it wasn’t too chaotic. This was better than food - which he dreaded.
“You like her?” Dean asked, with the usual wink of his eye, and Jack flustered.
“No-no. Not really.” Jack said, trying to hide his feelings, but his cheeks definitely remained red.
“Yeah, totally,” Dean said, sarcastically. “Who’ve you met so far?”
“Well, I met Crowley. He asked a lot of questions.” Jack explained. He found himself awkwardly pulling the sleeves of his shirt, as if they were covering something - but he damn well knew that self-harm wouldn’t do jack squat. He had tried, and it healed up just moments later - the pain didn’t let itself linger anyway.
“He’s just curious, I mean what does the son of Lucifer do after the world is saved, you know? Frolicking with god is obviously off limits.” Dean stated. Jack just stared blankly, unsure of what he should do or say, so he wandered back to help Sam set the table, and carry the food out- mainly to observe it closely, and figure out what he can eat.
Small-talk was made between Jack, Jodi, and Sam, who discussed school, and how the kids were doing, almost like real parents, except the whole weekend hunting and son of Lucifer thing.
Talk of school was mixed in with tales of ghosts, demons, wraiths, werewolves, and much more. It was both screwed up, but also completely normal - Jack preferred the hunting talk more than school, as normal life was almost more terrifying to talk about.
Jack was observing one dish on the kitchen table with intense intrigue, trying to figure out the contents. He found oil to be a part of it, causing him to shake his head.
“What’s up? Not to your liking?” Sam asked, jokingly. Jack looked up.
“No. I’m vegetarian now.” Jack said suddenly, hoping to avoid eating the abundance of meat that seemed to spread along the table.
“Oh, when did that happen?” Sam asked, curiously. Jack picked the plate up, as he stood.
“Yesterday, just to try it. I’m curious.” Jack said, which made Sam do his usual suspicious nod. Jack just ignored the whole exchange, and kept helping the prep with Jody.
By about six, the prep was done, and people had started to settle at the large table in front of the library.
Jack’s heart was beating out of his chest as he sat. He reached for a roll of bread to pick at, so his plate wouldn’t be blatantly empty. The voices of everyone talking all at once echoed throughout the library, while Jack sat quietly, picking apart the roll, trying to keep his eyes down.
Claire slapped his shoulder about ten minutes into his plan, and he looked up.
“You ok?” She asked, quietly. Jack nodded, slowly.
“Yeah, I just don’t like anything on the table.” Jack said.
“Not even the plain pasta? I swear the last time you were over, well, you ate a bunch of it.” Claire pointed out, which kind of offended Jack, as he didn’t want to be seen as someone who eats a lot. It was basically his opposite.
“I don’t like it as much anymore.” Jack lied. He wanted the pasta, dearly, but no, he couldn’t because it just had too many calories.
“Oh really. That’s new.” Claire remarked. Jack just awkwardly nodded.
“It’s a new thing I’m trying. Being vegetarian.” Jack said, but Claire furrowed her brows in confusion. It brewed some self-doubt in Jack’s body.
“You know you can still eat pasta though, right? Only vegans can’t, but they’re kind of crazy.” Claire explained, confusion on her tongue.
“Oh, yeah...I know. I’m just not that hungry right now.” Jack lied, as his stomach kept up with it’s awful protesting. He picked more off of the bread, to alleviate some of the stress.
“Oh, right.” Claire said, and went back to her food. Jack’s gaze shifted back to the floor, until a hand touched his shoulder. He looked up to find Dean.
“It’s time for pie.” Dean reminded Jack, who got up. Basically that was just a keyword for either get into the kitchen or it actually meant pie. Jack could never tell with Dean.
He walked into the kitchen to an array of desserts from many different sources. Fear struck his gaze.
“Sam’s clearing dinner, then we bring the pie.” Dean explained. Jack ended up turning his back to the array of food, just to keep himself from it.
“That’s a lot of food.” Jack pointed out. Dean leaned up against a wall.
“It’s what you do at christmas, at least when things are normal. You eat far too much,” Dean explained, before turning to face Jack. “ You haven’t eaten anything yet, so what’s up? Usually you like this sort of stuff.” Dean pointed out.
Jack froze for a few moments. He started to form excuses in his head. Everything was already used - and they’re not believable for much longer after one use.
“I didn’t see anything I wanted.” Jack lied. His left hand was running over his hip bones, again and again and again. It was calming.
“Really?” Dean questioned.
“Yeah, I’m vegetarian now.” Jack said, again, hoping to use that excuse.
“Yeah, as of yesterday. Sam told me.” Dean said. Jack could hear some of the skepticism that ran through his voice.
Sam walked in with masses of plates, which was the sign for dessert. Jack picked up what he could, and placed it on the table. The smell was enough for him to feel the hunger. He wanted it so badly. He needed it, but he couldn’t eat it, no.
Jack sat back at the table, and found a pair of eyes burning into him.
Dean.
He knew he had to eat, otherwise things would not end nicely. Jack placed a single slice of pie on his plate. He picked at it for a bit, until he met with Dean’s glare. An angry glare, which didn’t go away until he took a bite. Jack saw a relief come over Dean that he had never seen.
He ate the piece, but not without guilt.
It didn’t take longer than a few seconds after being done, and he was pretty much already running up the stairs, to try and get it up.
The problem with being a nephilim was the fact that anything healed. Any ailments - which included the damage from purging. He basically had this free pass to puke all day without pain, but he didn’t do it. Purging was his most hated behavior, and it was only recent.
He found himself hunched over the toilet, and the sounds were hopefully being masked with the water.
Purging wasn’t magically easy, no, he still had the same stupid issues as everyone else, and pie was so stupidly clumpy. It felt stuck in his throat.
He kept heaving, with the odd gagging noise coming from the stall. Footsteps had entered, but Jack couldn’t tell. He just kept trying, and eventually it came up. The gross clump of crust and the blueberry and sugar mixture - they were disgusting, but Jack just stood above it, flipping the puke off, while he flushed the toilet.
He walked out and was met with someone having recently left the room - while he was loudly shoving his fingers down his throat.
After splashing some water on his face, he walked downstairs, acting as if nothing was wrong.
He went to wash the dishes with Sam, who seemed to grab quick glances at Jack’s shoulder, and sometimes they’d meet eyes for a second, before Sam quickly looked back at his own plate.
“How was tonight?” Sam asked. Jack took a deep inhale.
“Ok, but I’m really excited for tomorrow, actually.” Jack said, as it was Christmas day, which was apparently presents. The exciting thought - as he was still a child, really.
“I think most people are.” Sam said.
“Where are people sleeping?” Jack asked, intrigued.
“All around, we’ve got enough space to house.” Sam stated. He was observing Jack, and the small movements of his body. Sam hadn’t realized exactly how skinny Jack had become, but it was obvious.
He assumed many things, but an eating disorder - no, not Jack, not now.
Jack ended up going back to the library, as others were still talking, while snacks lay everywhere, and he found Claire again, just to keep himself from feeling lonely.
Chapter 9: Perfection,
Summary:
Pt 2 of the holidays
Chapter Text
Later in the evening, as people had started to split off. Jack ended up in his room. Sam had retreated into the library, as it the quiet area. Jody and Cas had joined him, and they had some late-night conversation. The table was loud, and the voices echoed throughout the bunker. The table held the alcohol, and with it everyone else. There were solid amounts of board games on the table, and one very intense game of monopoly going on. Crowley had the lead, and with it, all the candy that was bet.
The sounds of downstairs were very loud, and echoed all the way through to Jack’s room. He was just on his laptop when a knock was on his door.
He assumed it was Dean or Sam, maybe even Cas.
“Come in.” He stated, and Claire ended up walking through the doorway.
“Hey.” She said, awkwardly. Jack paused the movie on the screen.
“Hi. What are you doing here?” Jack asked, confused.
“The noise was too loud, and hey, I needed to escape.” Claire explained.
“But why my room?” Jack asked.
“Phones get boring after a while, and besides, it’s your first Christmas, you shouldn’t be spending it alone,” She pointed out. “Cool if I sit?”
Jack nodded slowly, and she sat at the edge of his bed, before peeking at his laptop. Jack’s cheeks grew red, mainly with embarrassment.
“I...was curious.” Jack said, trying to excuse his odd interest in the god-awful eating disorder movies from Youtube.
“Yeah, totally.” She said, and unpaused it. Jack just sat awkwardly on the bed, cross legged in some old basketball shorts.
The whole “crush on Claire” thing was back, but he couldn’t really form words.
He watched a bit further, and noticed all the crap inaccuracies. It was like the rest. There was so much that never actually worked. Jack just sat confused for a bit too long, which caught Claire’s eye.
“You good?” Claire asked. Jack looked over.
“Yeah. I’m confused. Why do they lie in movies?” Jack asked. He noticed the usual hospital scene had started.
“Wait, whaddya mean?” She asked. Jack shifted his position, and ended up on his stomach, his ribs digging into the not-so-soft mattress.
“It doesn’t really work like that, I mean, they don’t eat for what, a week? And then they are in the hospital?” He pointed out, while keeping his eyes on the screen.
“It’s a movie, nothing you see is real. They only care about the drama.” She explained. Jack gave a nod, and ran a hand over the tendons on his wrists. He liked the way they moved.
“That does make sense.” He stated. They finished watching the movie. Unsatisfied, Jack asked if she wanted to watch another.
They agreed on some animated movie about dogs, which had a title that intrigued Jack. All Dogs go to Heaven. He sort of laughed, and confirmed that yes, they do. Jack noticed the hunger, as the movie started. It wasn’t awful, but it didn’t feel great either, as there was a bit of pain involved.
The pain was interesting; usually his body could heal any ailments real quick, but this, well it seemed to be a larger issue - that couldn’t just be healed up. It was another sign that everything he was doing, it was more than just some attempt to fit in - if it was, he would’ve stopped by now, yet he was still completely obsessed.
There was a long period where no one spoke. Jack noticed a hesitation on Claire’s end, as if she was trying to form words, but nothing was coming out. It was a feeling that Jack knew all too well, and with that, he knew that there was no point in rushing it.
Silence seemed to continue, while the large amount of voices downstairs began to quiet, as people began to fall asleep and branch off into different rooms. With the silence, Jack could feel his heartbeat, as well as hear it in his ear. Calm and completely rhythmic, unlike some of the stuff he read - about the irregular heartbeat that happens, and even the hair loss that should have occurred by now.
Jack just assumed he wasn’t sick enough yet, and that it would validate him if he suddenly felt the ill-effects from all of it.
Jack shifted positions again, laying on his back instead, as the pressure on his ribs was far too uncomfortable. It was just a fact of life now, as his bones had started to stick out from his skin - sitting actually bruised him sometimes, until his body healed them back up just a few moments later.
He felt Claire’s eye on him, well, more on the exposed skin. His shirt had accidentally rode up during the shift, but if he would pull it down, it’d be more suspicious. He just left it, ignored it, and hoped it wasn’t too much.
Overthinking. Something he did far too often - the thoughts just ran, and he didn’t quite know how to control it.
“Jack?” Claire asked. Her tone of voice had changed. Quiet, hesitant. She didn’t sound scared, but he swore that Claire was never scared - not even when confronted with packs of werewolves.
Jack turned his head.
“Yes?” Jack asked. Claire’s gaze fell to the ground.
“Earlier, at dinner…,” She trailed off, obviously unsure of what to say. Jack suddenly felt his body run cold. This would not be easy, and it was not about his harmless crush. His heart rate had started to pick up, while Claire’s cheeks also started to run red. She inhaled deeply. “You’re not vegetarian, huh? And you were hungry, obviously.” She pointed out. The blood seemed to run from his head.
“Yeah uh-” He started, trying to make excuses. It was his defense, and it worked around Dean, Sam, and especially Cas.
“I heard about it...in some health class back in school.” Claire said, quietly.
“Don’t tell anyone, please.” Jack said, concerned. He trusted Claire, but if the word got to anyone else, they’d figure it out far too quickly.
“Don’t worry, it’s safe. I know how much it sucks, to have secrets spilled.” Claire explained. Jack’s shoulders ended up dropping from the suspended breath. He found himself trusting Claire, and with it came a sense of relief. His secret was with someone else, pushing some of the weight off of his own body.
“Thank you.” Jack said, not knowing what else to say.
“So you don’t want to talk about it, huh?” She asked. Jack found himself just staring at the ceiling. He did.
So terribly, yes, but he couldn’t just flat out say anything about it.
“I do, but I can’t. Literally.” He said, his voice low.
“Wait, what’dya mean?” Claire asked, concerned. It was something that Jack hadn’t seen from her, a side that wasn’t so sharp. With it he wanted his walls to come down - but they stood strong. No soul could knock them down in their current state.
Jack just went quiet.
“I can’t.”
“It’s ok. You have my number, so if you need anything.” Claire offered softly.
Jack nodded slowly. His heart rate started going down as the anxiety faded.
Silence, until Claire got up from the bed.
“I should probably go sleep before Jody comes searching.” She said, and left the room, leaving Jack and his Nephilim-induced insomnia in the dark.
Chapter 10: A Rotting Shell of Atrophy
Summary:
Holidays pt 3 cuz it's a thing
Chapter Text
Jack awoke a few hours later, in the early hours of the morning. He noticed the very few voices of those who don’t sleep. Cas, Crowley, Gabriel. The only ones he could make out.
Jack felt a pang in his stomach. Hunger most likely, and with it he got up.
It was like every other morning. He got up, and walked to the bathroom. Almost unaware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing pants, until he ran into Gabriel, who did nothing but make fun of it.
Jack awkwardly peed, and walked back to his room.
The whole thing was a ritual now. He had to pee before weighing himself. It gave him the most accurate reading.
Jack locked his door, pulled the scale from behind the dresser. He looked it up and down before taking a breath and stepping on.
116.4.
Things had been slowing down, much to Jack’s disappointment. His body was getting used to the food - or his metabolism was slowing from the loss of weight or lack of food. He just didn’t want to admit it.
Jack wrote the number in his notebook, the one with the leatherbound cover. It was beginning to get full with different numbers, three times a day, everyday. It had everything he ate in it, from the days where he ate nothing, to the days where he ate everything. It contained everything, and if anyone saw it, Jack was busted.
It felt as if this was crime sometimes, that he was breaking every moral law by lying, but he couldn’t possibly tell the truth without anyone getting involved, and consequently worried about him. The sympathy kind of sucked, especially when it was Sam. Sam just made it sound like some therapy session that Jack never asked for.
Jack quickly hid the scale away again, and wandered downstairs, just to see what was happening. The best case scenario was Claire being down there, but he knew she was a late-sleeper, like Dean. It was more than likely that Sam was down there.
He walked down the stairs, and into the large room before the library. It was something different. The night before, someone had laid presents down underneath the tree, probably after Jack had escaped to his room.
He couldn’t help but smile, as he walked down the stairs. The whole area seemed empty, except for some sounds in the back of the library. They were voices.
“Boxer boy returns with pants, huh?” Jack heard Gabriel say. He felt his cheeks grow red.
“It was cold.” Jack said. He continued into the library, hoping to get away from his room and laptop. It got boring, and sometimes just overwhelmed him.
He just scoured the library for anything that wasn’t lore or about monsters. He knew there had to be something. No one could live in a library of only monster lore.
Jack was searching the shelves when people started to come down the stairs. He turned to find Sam awake, well, already back from his run, and the small hint of sweat got into Jack’s nose, causing it to crinkle. The musty smell was not something Jack liked, no.
It wasn’t for a few moments, but Jack suddenly realized that he wasn’t covered, not like he usually was. His arms exposed, and each vein and the few strips of muscle that liked to poke from his skin when he moved. Jack couldn’t even try to cover up, as it would be more suspicious than just ignoring it.
He could feel Sam’s eyes on him for a second longer, but it didn’t feel like a critical stare, just a bit of a surprise, probably to see Jack in less than a full hoodie. The stare diminished, and Sam was probably off to shower, leaving Jack in the library with a very sentimental Crowley and a clearly still intoxicated Gabriel.
Jack eventually found a small section of shelves for some normal books, even modern books. He assumed it was either Sam or Dean that put them there.
He looked through them, hoping to find something that peaked his interest, until a small cacophony of voices came down the stairs, as in, everyone else had finally woken up. Jack, along with the others in the library, looked over to see the few people walk down the stairs.
Everyone was now awake, which meant food would soon come. The leftovers from the night before, mainly. The plates were already being moved from the kitchen.
Jack gave up on finding a book, but made sure to remember the spot. He wanted to get away from the kitchen, maybe he could even get out of breakfast by sneaking up the stairs, as everyone was getting down.
Until his eyes met with Claire’s, who gave him a bit of a look.
“You trying to run from breakfast?” She asked. Jack found himself shocked at the accuracy of her statement, and nodded slowly.
“Yeah, not really in the mood.” He said.
“Are you ever in the mood?” She asked him, as they walked to the table.
“If I haven’t eaten in three days maybe.” Jack explained, as a bit of a joke. Claire just rolled her eyes at him.
“I know you’re only like five, but geez, you’ve got the habits of a Winchester.” She pointed out, as they sat. Jack noticed the smell of reheated pie, and some other stuff from the night before. His stomach seemed to drop with the same anxiety. He observed the table, and found nothing safe. He did want it, he wanted to eat all of it, really. There was a hunger he had developed, and it seemed to never end. It was the small stupid reason of calories that held him back.
Jack ended up getting up from the chair, and he walked into the kitchen.
Sam was in there, making something. Jack tried to sneak past for a banana, but ended up tripping on his own feet, again. It caught Sam’s attention.
“You don’t like the food either?” Jack asked. He went to grab a banana.
“No, no. It’s not the greatest thing after alcohol,” Sam explained. Jack started peeling the banana, as he walked to the trash can. “What about you? I thought you liked the pie?”
Jack awkwardly shook his head, as his gaze moved to the floor. His heart fluttered, as he stood. It was almost strange, how tired he was just standing up, as if he had nothing left.
“It didn’t settle too well. I don’t think it wanted to stay down.” Jack said, hoping to make the purging sound like an accident, as if it wasn’t his own doing.
“What happened? You puke?” Sam asked, and Jack just nodded.
“It wasn’t pleasant.” Jack explained, trying to keep the accident trope alive.
“Yeah, I bet.” Sam said, and went back to the stove. Jack shoved the banana into his mouth, and headed back to the table.
No one could claim that he ate nothing, and still, all signs did not point to him. Only some of the did.
Chapter 11: Watching Crowds
Summary:
Diner stints
Chapter Text
It was Sam who decided to hunt on New Years Eve. It was Dean who found one in Sioux Falls. It was Jack who suggested they stay with Jody - mainly to try and talk to Claire again.
Jack was restless in the car, especially because Dean had suggested food, and Cas had started searching nearby places in maps - that were open late.
It was almost hilarious, how no one was figuring his whole thing out yet. He had lost weight, and quite a bit of it. He barely ate anything in front of them, or everything at once - but that was apparently normal for younger folks. He even tried dropping hints, but no one picked up on them.
He wasn’t really wanting to tell them, but he wanted someone to figure it out, so he could have permission to eat again.
He was sick of it, and it seemed that this had only been going on for a few months, hilariously so. He found himself feeling horribly invalid just from length alone - most stories talk of those who’ve had these issues for years, but Jack assumed things changed between disorders, because no human being can do what he’s been doing without getting pretty ill. Being a Nephilim was coming in handy - just for the sheer power of keeping him alive through the trash he was addicted to.
Jack was shaken awake a few moments after falling asleep, and Cas was standing over him.
“We found a spot.” He explained. Jack reluctantly unbuckled, and followed them into the diner.
Jack was scouring the menu for anything, but it was already too late for him to consume anything. The feeling of food in his stomach before sleeping, it was awful.
He watched a waitress walk by, and stop with water, which was safe, and she asked for orders. Dean got the usual of everything and Sam ended up with another salad that had just enough calories to be considered a meal. Cas didn’t get anything, and Jack tried to get nothing. He did, but Dean ended up ordering some grilled cheese of the kid’s menu, just out of concern.
“I wasn’t hungry.” Jack pointed out.
“Yeah, until we’re four hours down the highway. Trust me kid, you’ll feel better.” Dean reassured Jack, who couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He knew it wasn’t going to be a better feeling - frankly he’d feel much worse after eating. The horrible feelings would consume him.
Jack didn’t argue, and just made sure to drink enough water, just in case he had to purge. The water seemed to make it feel less like hell.
“So, what’s the case again?” Cas asked, as he sat by the full glass of water, while his fingers ran against each other.
“Siren, most likely, but we’re not entirely sure until we ask around.” Sam explained, as he made space for the plate being placed in front of him.
Jack looked up with terrified eyes, as his own plate was set in front of him. He just stared at it, while playing with the fries - hoping no one would notice that he wasn’t eating.
“And you’ll be more careful this time? You know, the last time didn’t go too well.” Cas pointed out.
“Yeah, we know what we’re doing this time, promise.” Dean reassure Cas. Jack was still shifting his fries on the plate, different patterns each time. He kept his head down, hoping he could deceive them, and it worked, until Dean cleared his throat while keeping his eyes on Jack.
To keep the cover, he reluctantly ate.
Obviously it doesn’t go without fear, but there was always the crutch of purging. Being a Nephilim made it almost too easy to avoid the negative parts of it. Any damage was immediately healed - so he basically had a free pass to puke whenever.
Except for the fact that it really sucked. Pain wasn’t common, but the acid was, and it was always vile.
Going to the bathroom right after eating was such an obvious sign, but no one actually would pick up on it without tangible or audible evidence.
Jack quickly purged, hoping it wouldn’t be too hard or too gross. Bread sort of clumped in his throat, and he kept having to force his middle finger down his throat, until the soggy chunks did come up, and he could breathe.
He tried to rinse the taste out of his mouth, and walked back out, as he felt the small acid erosion, the one that tends to happen whenever someone purged, heal. It wasn’t the greatest of feelings.
He sat back in the booth, and just awkwardly waited until they decided to leave.
Being deceptive kind of sucked, especially when the one thing that doesn’t heal are the small red bruises on his knuckles. They just seemed to remain, almost screaming at him. It seemed his powers were definitely weaker when he didn’t really eat, but it was only small things that let him know.
They ended up at Jody’s two hours later, at around two in the morning. It wasn’t uncommon to get to places that late, but someone was usually awake.
Jack pulled his small duffel out of the trunk, and followed Sam to the door. He wasn’t awfully tired, but the post-purge exhaustion was different. It was much more of the body being weighed by limbs that felt far heavier than they should be, and his heart beating just slightly too fast, which made it uncomfortable.
The door opened, revealing Jody, who had apparently just got home. She smiled, as she let them inside. Jack awkwardly stood in the living room, while she closed the door.
“Hey, so, I’ve got one bedroom and the two couches. You’ll need to fight it out.” She explained.
“Yeah, uh, Dean and Cas can have the bed.” Sam explained. Jack just looked at the couch. It didn’t look too comfortable, but he didn’t sleep all that much anyway.
Jack just plugged his laptop into the wall, and scoured the internet. He used most of his time on old forums. He was frankly obsessed with eating disorders. It was apparently just a side effect of the starvation.
Sam was out pretty quick, and he assumed Dean was as well. It left Cas, and then him.
Cas was busy watching over Dean though, so Jack was alone, and bored until he fell asleep.
The morning was different. Jack was the last to wake up, and it was to the smell of bacon. He blinked a few times, and then sat up. His body hurt, and all he could think about was checking the bathroom for a scale.
He doubted it, but it never hurt to check.
Jack slinked into the bathroom. He noticed a dial one the corner, probably unused in years, but it still worked.
115.8.
Still going down. It wasn’t as fast as the first few months, but that usually happened. Metabolism slowed. He wasn’t fully an angel, so human body functions existed.
This was one of them.
He quickly finished, walked out, and back to the couch before Dean could call breakfast.
Jack said nothing. He wasn’t hungry, but it was again, Dean who shoved a plate in front of him. He looked up with fear in his eyes. He wasn’t in the state of mind for food - even if he wanted it.
Something held him.
Chapter Text
Jack shifted his weight from foot to foot, as he waited for Jody to finish breakfast. It had been a four-day hunt, and now it was the morning after. They had gone to bed covered in wraith, and in the morning had showered one-by-one, while Jody made breakfast.
January 1st. A time of starting fresh and wiping the entire slate.
Jack didn’t want anything different. He just wanted to lose more weight - as the disorder didn’t really change. The turning of the year didn’t do anything. Jack didn’t understand it anyway. Why did anyone care so much about it anyway?
His stomach dropped at the smell of pancakes. He noticed the excitement from the others who migrated to the table, while Jack remained in the corner, consistently letting the number from the morning run through his head. 118.4.
Somehow he had gained weight - maybe it was water weight. He had read about that, and how it causes the fluctuations. It didn’t make him feel better. He shouldn’t have to deal with such a thing - it was such a stupid human thing.
“You done brooding?” Claire asked, snapping Jack back from the disassociation.
“Yes?” He stated, confused, and sat at the table. A plate of pancakes slid in front of him. He scrunched his nose, ready for an excuse, but Claire seemed to meet his eye with a look. It was a daunting stare, which didn’t seem to go away until he actually ate at least a bit of a pancake.
It sucked. He had gained weight, and now he had to eat when he didn’t really deserve anything.
The awful feeling of food actually being there seemed so stupid, so strange. Numbers helped none, and with a few bites, he left the table in a bit of a rush, trying to get away from those around him. He needed the air, just to figure his thoughts out. The feelings brewing inside of him weren’t great. He couldn’t help but feel so stuck.
Jack sat on the front steps of the house, he needed the air of the morning. The January air was cold, piercing cold, really. Cars drove by in the neighborhood, the sound of wet snow on their tires.
Jack could feel small, cold, tears in his eyes. They just sat on his ducts, waiting to drop.
His mind was racing with every single way he could try to burn the food off, so he could lose the weight again - when it was really, probably not anything more than temporary weight.
He heard the screen door close, and turned to see behind him. Claire ended up on the front steps beside him.
“You sure you’re ok?” She asked. Jack nodded.
“A minor setback, that’s all.” He said, keeping the whole truth a secret.
“Really? You didn’t come here to cry then?” She asked.
“Maybe, but that’s not important.” Jack stated.
“What happened?” She asked.
“It’s just a bad day, really.” Jack explained. Not a lie, not a truth, just him.
“You wanna talk about it?” Claire asked him, and Jack shook his head.
“No, but I’ll text you later if I need to.” Jack explained, and he followed her back inside. The others had packed while he was out. The table still carried his half-eaten plate of pancakes. He tried to keep his eyes from meeting Dean’s, who was washing some dishes - every dish.
“You finishing those?” Dean asked, and Jack just quietly shook his head while packing the blanket.
“I’m fine, really.” He said, and his heart rate increased again. Jack was avoiding Dean, knowing too damn well that they would stop for food on the way home, and another long argument would be had - all in stares.
It was Cas who walked out the door last, how duffel bag hitting his legs with each step, as his arm swayed behind him.
“Did anyone want those leftover pancakes in the kitchen?” Cas asked, and Jack just sat in the backseat, arms crossed, hoping to avoid confrontation. That was honestly worse than arguing - being cornered and interrogated. When he was still bullied at school it was a common way of humiliating him.
“Jack walked out on em’, again.” Dean explained, causing Jack to slide into his seat. His cheeks burnt hot.
No other questions were asked, not for a while. Jack got out of the car to say goodbye. Claire ended up giving him a small hug - nothing significant, but enough to make him feel better. Jody ended up handing Sam a large bag of assumedly cookies of some sort. Dean reached straight into the bag and then made eye contact with Jack.
“Hey sport.” Dean said, and chucked Jack a cookie.
“Uh, thanks. I don’t-” Jack started.
“Trust me, you do.” Dean explained. They piled into the car. Sam and Dean in front, Cas and Jack in the back. Jack started tearing a few pieces off. Hiding some in a tissue he had in his hoodie pocket, the rest he actually consumed, but not with a stupid plan for later in the drive.
Notes:
writer's block galore
skool started lets goo
Chapter 13: We Furiously Flock
Summary:
Jack struggles with reactive hunger
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Semester two. Jack wasn’t exactly excited, no, it was just a chore that he had to get through, and it would probably be a few weeks before he could go hunt again - which was his only relief from the strange mundane of normal life.
Jack was hungry. It wasn’t exactly a normal hunger, no. It was pretty ravenous, and almost terrifying. He knew it would’ve happened, but not like this.
It was worse than the stupid pain of November. It was so much worse.
The painful moments, when he’d wake at 2 am, ravenous, yet food was not an option - that was the awful part.
It wasn’t the consistent need for food, no, he had already been dealing with that for ages - now it was the pain that came from it. Pain was the biggest indicator that something was wrong, something that he wasn’t able to immediately heal.
The first night that it happened, it wasn’t anything crazy. Jack had snuck into the kitchen at 2 am, after another painful awakening. He had scoured for basically everything that he could find in the room - everything that wouldn’t alarm anyone. If big things went missing - which meant - if Dean’s pie ended up missing, there’d be some real scary consequences.
Jack just found everything else, and quickly snuck it back to his room. He wasn’t keen on being found in the kitchen, not with Cas being awake.
He stared at the food, and then at his dresser, as behind it, he had hidden his scale. He wanted to stand on it, and just go back to bed.
But he couldn’t, no, the hunger compelled his movements. He couldn’t keep it going.
Jack ended up on the scale anyway.
114.6.
Still not satisfied, he put the scale away, and just went straight to the food. It was all he was thinking about. The pain was an aside, nothing but hunger brought him in, towards himself. He just seemed to eat.
Everything, as crazy as it may seem.
He wasn’t fully in control, no, he was really the opposite. He had no control over himself, and no amount of Nephilim could help him.
This was his own stupid thing, and with the starvation came the addiction. He was so damn broken.
Jack threw wrappers in the trash as he went along, watching another mindless show, just to feel less like he wanted to just off himself.
He kept trying to hide the wrappers with tissues, but he realized that clean tissues probably wouldn’t help his case. It was all just there, obvious.
Footsteps in the hall, which caused Jack to quickly cease moving. He waited for a bit, as he assumed that Cas was entering into Dean’s room, either to be on the same bed, or just to be present.
The panic of afterwards. The pain that came with binging, and then the onset of the crappy amount of guilt. The silent running to the bathroom, the water running as he shoved his fingers down his throat and puked up all he could in the same panic as before.
He shoved himself onto the cold, hard floor, so he could try to at least heal partially. He wasn’t the best at it, not anymore. His body didn’t quite have the energy. It was slower, much slower, and with the extent of all the stuff he was doing, well, he could never quite let it heal. There was always a slowly increasing amount of destruction on his body.
Jack found his body heavy as he got up from the floor. He washed the acid from his mouth, and tried to sneak back to his room.
He was far too tired to stay awake, and with it he fell asleep on top of his covers with nothing but boxers on.
“Jack?” Dean had called, which caused Jack to open his eyes. He shivered.
“I’m alive.” Jack croaked in that mix of post-purge and morning voice.
“It’s noon...on a Saturday. Just checking in to make sure that you’re ok.” Dean explained.
It took a second for Jack to realize that he was basically naked, and that Dean had seen it - all of it.
He knew his skin was thinly stretched across his ribs, and that his Iliac Crest stuck out on his back. He just couldn’t care - not with his energy levels.
Jack ended up pulling a hoodie over his torso, after getting the energy to get off of the bed. He trudged his way into the kitchen, still hungry, but hopeful that today would be different. He wouldn’t end up ravenous enough to eat the entire kitchen - but part of him feared that he would. It wasn’t like before, his iron desire to starve was gone - leaving the human part of him just hungry.
He walked in on Cas, who was apparently trying to cook something, with the help of Dean.
“Isn’t it a little too cold to not wear pants?” Cas asked, genuinely curious. Jack just looked down, his cheeks flushed.
“I guess I forgot.” Jack stated, as he scoured the kitchen for anything that wouldn’t cause the hunger to start up.
“There’s leftover waffles in the fridge, if you’re looking for food.” Dean pointed out. Jack just shook his head. He was unsure if food would even feel safe, or if he was still trying to get over the night before.
“Maybe later.” Jack stated, and went for the last bit of coffee instead.
“They’re probably gonna be gone, you know, you should eat now.” Dean pointed out. Jack could tell there were hints of frustration and some worry in his voice.
Jack just awkwardly took the plate out of the fridge, and sat at the small table, while Dean shooed Cas out of the room. He walked to sit across from Jack - which caused Jack’s heart to speed up.
“Talk to me.” Dean said. Jack kept his gaze on the table. He found it almost funny, how Dean liked to play therapist with him, yet Dean wasn’t exactly one to open.
“About what?” Jack asked. He started to pick the waffle apart, making small pieces that felt much safer.
“Anything you need to.” Dean said, clearly unable to say anything. Jack just sighed.
“I’m fine, but thanks.” Jack fibbed. He ate a small piece of the ripped up waffle.
“No, you’re not, and it’d feel much better to talk about it.” Dean said, bluntly. Jack inhaled, and then quietly sighed.
“It’s just stress, really.” Jack lied again, but just enough that Dean would buy it.
“And that’s why you lost all the weight?” Dean asked. Jack nodded.
“Yeah, that’s it. I promise I’ll try to eat.” Jack said, making a completely empty promise. He just needed Dean off of his back.
He couldn’t stop, no, not now, he was so close.
Notes:
ahh, time is so strange
Chapter 14: To Tragedy
Summary:
Jack's back in school
Dean's on his ass
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dean kept an eye on Jack - a bit of a harsh eye. Jack had to find ways to sneak around it. He wasn’t giving this up, not anytime soon.
Dean had promised to keep it from Cas, and especially Sam - who would play therapist the moment he knew.
Dean would sit with Jack some days, if he was around. He tried to ease Jack, as he assumed the stress of school just loaded itself upon Jack.
Jack had just gotten extremely sneaky. He was extremely good at hiding it. Through baggy clothes, short hair, and a lot of trying to silently puke after meals.
His hair did fall out, not a lot, but it was starting to grow more noticable, along with undiagnosable pain. Something was haywire, but he didn’t know what, or why. Damage had ensued - damage that began to accumulate.
Jack shoved himself off of the bed through the loud sound of his alarm. His legs felt heavy, and his heart was beating just a bit too fast. He ended up going to the bathroom, and then right back to his room to pull his scale out. It was all that crossed his mind - numbers.
He stepped on the scale, heart racing.
112.2.
He found it slightly disheartening, how slow things were moving, but it was something. He was starting to feel some of the hatred let up. It wasn’t a lot, no, but he didn’t feel he deserved nothing. It was a stupid, crazy though that had shoved itself into his head after the first month of school - after the whole incident.
Jack hid the scale, pulled the one hoodie over his torso, and trudged downstairs.
He had to go straight to the kitchen, and he had to consume something - otherwise Dean would be on his case all morning.
He poured a bowl of cereal, trying to measure with his eyes - just enough to keep anyone from saying anything.
Cas ended up in the kitchen next - probably waiting for Dean to trudge in the familiar bathrobe. It was still funny to Jack - everytime Dean would trudge in with the robe and morning hair, usually attached to Cas.
Dean ended up walking in next. Jack just kept his eyes on the bowl, trying to avoid eye contact. He felt heat radiate from his cheeks - embarrassed.
Jack quickly finished, and then put the bowl into the sink. He slinked away from the now crowded kitchen. It was bad enough with an eye on him, but multiple? Awful. There was already enough anxiety when he ate around others.
He finished the process of getting ready, and met Dean by the front door. With no exchange of words, the two walked out the front door.
Jack wasn’t in a mood to talk. He just responded with sounds whenever Dean asked anything.
He found the thin ice between Dean and himself jarring. He didn’t like it, but after Dean tried to play strict parent with food, Jack couldn’t bear to look at him.
Jack shoved himself out of the Impala, and walked straight through the doors. His legs didn’t quite feel as if they belonged to him, and his conscious, as if he was floating. His body didn’t feel like his own - he was watching it move.
Homeroom was quiet. He sat in his corner - the one he chose after the ridicule had started - and now he was just here - quiet, as friends was out of the question. Letting anyone in would be bad news - more than just the eating thing - the whole Lucifer’s son thing as well.
There was more dread in his body, as it was another PE day. Running had actually become harder - as if he was human.
He was the most powerful being on the planet, and running was what exhausted him.
The day passed, and just like every other day, he threw his lunch into the trash. Dean never figured that one out, probably never even crossed his mind.
It was only during PE, that he noticed the small flutters in his heart. Every couple of beats it’d skip or beat faster or slower. It wasn’t the nicest of feelings - scary, if he was being honest.
Changing before class was hard. He apparently couldn’t change in the bathroom - so his body was just on full blast. Every little bone, tendon, and muscle fiber.
He quickly pulled the shorts up. He tended to leave his shirt unchanged.
Jack pulled his hoodie over himself again, and walked towards the gym floor, where others started to run.
Jack started walking, as running wasn’t the biggest thing on his list. He just struggled through the heaviness in his body, until he spooked when someone touched his shoulder.
“Ah.” He said, out of reflex.
“Sorry.” He noticed one of Taylor’s old friends behind him. Dread washed over him, as he braced himself for the teasing to start again.
“What now?” He asked, annoyed. She just let out a sigh and walked beside him.
“I’m not here to tease or anything. I actually wanted to apologize.” She said, calmly. Jack just kept his gaze straight front.
“Now? It’s been months, right? Why now?” Jack asked. She took another inhale.
“I didn’t know how badly it affected you, you know. It was just something she did. I played along because, well, I needed to find a place to belong.” She explained.
“I can forgive you.” Jack said. He found his right fist to be clenched, his nails digging into his palm.
“I just, uh, I know what you’re doing.” She stated. Jack froze. His cheeks began to burn.
“Doing what?” Jack asked, confused.
“You know - after the teasing, and suddenly you drop weight.” She said, her words awkward.
“Oh no, I-” Jack tried to deny it.
“I had it too.” She said, quietly.
“You had an eating issue?” Jack asked, confused.
“Yeah. It’s not something I talk about, but seeing you? I couldn’t just remain quiet. It might not do anything, but I just wanted to say sorry. I know things haven’t been kind to you.” She said. Jack couldn’t help but find his cheeks flush. He had never actually talked to anyone at the school - at least not anyone who wasn’t trying to be mean.
They finished the laps, and Jack sat.
“I didn’t get your name.” He asked, quietly.
“Kenzie.” She said, and gently smiled. Jack couldn’t help but feel slightly better, knowing he wasn’t alone.
Notes:
ahh writer's block
heyyo
I need some prompts to get me thinkin on this one
if you have one, drop it as a comment
Chapter 15: Observe the Hurt
Summary:
Jack's still sick
Chapter Text
Jack was left alone for a bit - a hunt was taking so much longer than expected. What should’ve been a week, ended up being two, and Jack, being left to his own devices just ended up going straight back to eating close to nothing - a comfort that seemed so hard to get back to.
It wasn’t easy - no. After eating again, things don’t quite go the same way.
He was hungry - first of all.
Some nights he couldn’t stop eating.
Some days he’d be over a toilet for a bit - puking what he ended up binging on.
Sometimes that wouldn’t work, and well, he’d end up distraught by a toilet in the bathroom.
Apparently someone had put Gabriel on babysitting Jack duty.
He popped in every few days, but didn’t stay long; he just asked a few questions and left in the usual Gabriel fashion - Jack assumed Crowley would have been a better choice.
It was a Saturday when Jack got the text from Sam - that they were on their way back, and close. He woke up with the vibration.
Jack noticed his scale just out in his room - so he made a mental note to put that away after weighing himself.
He stripped to his boxers and hopped on the scale, and was met with a number that he could have only fathomed months ago.
106.2.
Two weeks ago it was 112.
Noticeable on his body now - he noticed how thin he had become, but he couldn’t lie to himself. He liked it - really. It was the thing he was working for, and he had really surpassed his goal weight. He didn’t even care when he had arrived there, no, he just had to keep going.
Jack placed the scale behind his bookshelf, and shoved a bunch of books in front to cover it.
He had a few hours to try and look less dead.
Observing himself in the mirror, naked, as per usual. He noticed the dead look in his eyes. The pale skin. Even his grace didn’t have the energy to keep him completely healthy. His body wasn’t invincible - no, it felt pain.
He probably couldn’t die from it, at least not for many eons, but he could still get sick and live miserably with it.
It wasn’t a way to live.
He didn’t want to be like this, but now he couldn’t stop - even if he wanted to.
He pulled the same loose clothes over his body - the hand-me-downs from Dean draped over him.
Jack walked into the kitchen to make the same bowl of cereal - measured and completely familiar.
250 calories.
He tended to aim for closer to 900 calories - higher than what he’d read online, but it was safer than eating too little. He had made that mistake for so long, causing so much guilt to arise.
He heard the bunker door close, which meant they had arrived. Jack left the bowl of cereal on the wooden table, and stood to meet them.
“You didn’t burn the place down, so that’s good.” Dean observed.
“Well yeah, you told me not to.” Jack pointed out, tugging at the sleeve on his wrinkled flannel. He stood by the stairs, and one-by-one ended up giving the shortest of hugs to everyone who walked towards him.
“Is that your bowl from today, or did you forget to do dishes?” Cas asked.
“From this morning, yes.” Jack stated.
“And you’re planning to finish it right?” Dean asked, his voice stood firm. Jack just nodded.
“Yeah, obviously.” Jack ratted. He walked back to the table. Sam ended up with all the bags, so he grumbled back up the stairs.
Jack awkwardly ate the cereal, trying to get Dean’s look of disbelief off of his back.
“You’re staring at me, almost like I’ll explode.” Jack observed.
“It’s just, it’s been two weeks. Something’s different about you?” Dean asked. Jack felt the blood drain from his cheeks.
“I tried cutting my own hair last Saturday.” Jack lied. It had just thinned a bit from the loose hairs that he kept shedding.
There was a look of disbelief on Dean’s face, but he seemed to buy it, much to Jack’s relief.
“Looks good.” Dean said, and walked straight to the kitchen, leaving Jack in the foyer with the cereal and Castiel.
“You didn’t cut your hair, no, it’s still the same length.” Cas pointed out, which caused Jack’s cheeks to redden again. He looked down at the almost empty bowl of cereal.
“It was a bit off the top,” Jack lied, and drank the milk from the bowl. “I’m fine Cas, really.” Jack reassured him.
“I know. We’re just worried.” Cas stated. Jack sighed as he walked back to the kitchen.
“You’re acting like my parents.” Jack mumbled.
“We are your parents now.” Cas called from the foyer. Jack sighed while washing the milk residue from the bowl. He noticed the stronger heartbeat as he walked back out. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was absolutely not comfortable.
There wasn’t much to do on a Saturday, unless there was a hunt. Sam would sometimes drive to local farmer’s markets in the sumner. Dean spent the time looking for more cases and telling Jack to find friends.
Jack had friends. Claire obviously - but that’s it. He just didn’t find anyone he could trust.
The rest of the morning was chill. Jack was in his room, doing close to nothing. He was far too tired to do much else - all he thought about was food.
It seemed some long time had passed before he was startled with a knock on his door.
“Jack, food. I know you’re probably hungry.” Sam said from the other side of the door.
“Coming.” Jack said, as he pushed himself from the bed.
Smells seemed to seep in and out of his nose as he walked down. Pizza was the strongest smell, and the most terrifying.
He sat at the table with his shaking hands underneath, so no one could see them.
Chapter 16: Hasten Back to our Peaceful, Quiet Nests of Blasphemy
Summary:
Jack gets worse
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was another weekend hunt. Dean had found it Thursday night, and Jack had begged to tag along - as he was starting to go stir crazy in the bunker. It was a reluctant allowance, but Cas had tipped the scales in favor of Jack - reminding Sam and Dean of Jack’s power - which was still weak from the long starvation period.
Jack hated the long trips, and the stops for food that came with it. He either tried to just awkwardly sit in the car, or Dean would drag him into whatever diner they’d stop at. It was a constant fight.
It was interesting to Jack, how they still couldn’t figure it out. Blatantly obvious now - he couldn’t do anything to avoid looking sick. It was just a game of what will happen first - would he end up telling someone? Or will his health decline to a point of crisis?
A waiting game that seemed almost painful - that would only get worse with time.
“So, Jack. It’s your first vamp nest.” Sam pointed out. Jack found himself looking up from his clasped fingers.
“Yes. It is, and I’m excited.” Jack said. He noticed the extremely prominent red marks on his knuckles - which were contrasted to the extreme with his extremely pale skin.
His dwindling body wasn’t dead yet - and wouldn’t for a long time, but it didn’t feel good. Not anymore. Starving didn’t leave him with the same high feeling, no, it just caused other pain to arise. Headaches, chest pains, stomach issues.
Food didn’t do much either - it was just other pains - with more stomach issues.
He felt far too human for comfort.
The car stopped, and Jack looked out the window of the Impala. They had made it to the motel in Wisconsin.
“We’ll drop our stuff off, get food, and figure out where to go from there.” Dean stated, and Jack slowly opened the side door. He felt the absolute frigid air sting his cheeks.
Sam handed Jack the small duffel with his clothes, and they all wandered into the lobby while Dean got the key. Jack found himself shivering even in the heated lobby - his bag heavy on his shoulder.
“Room 113.” Dean stated, and then headed back out the door. Jack was bracing himself for the outside air.
The room wasn’t the most roomy. Two beds and a couch, as per usual.
Jack basically collapsed on the bed, his legs absolutely exhausted.
Sam was the last one to walk into the room. He placed his bag down beside Jack.
“You’re already tired, huh.” Sam pointed out. Jack just exhaled loudly, and curled up a bit for body heat. He felt a hand hit his shoe.
“Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re still getting food.” Dean said, and Jack slowly pushed himself off of the bed. Standing up almost had him on the floor again, as his knees buckled. He caught his balance, only after catching Sam’s jacket.
Sam placed Jack back on his feet.
“You good there?” Sam asked. Jack just nodded.
“Fine.” Jack said, and quickly took a few steps backwards, as a chill ran through his body.
Dean was already out the door, and Cas followed. Jack followed Sam with shaking hands and far too much anxiety.
The diner was awkward. It was a bit nicer than some of the previous diners, but still had the same smell, and the same crappy menu.
Jack made sure to not sit across from Dean - another awkward interaction would give him away.
Looking through the numbers listed on the side of the menu listings was all Jack would do - trying to find anything he could eat. The numbers just scared him - everything was far higher than what he was comfortable with. He couldn’t do it, and just put the menu down. He didn’t care if anyone noticed anymore. It was almost welcome, as he was so tired of feeling like absolute crap.
Dean cleared his throat, and Jack just picked the menu back up, ordered some fries, and kept staring at the window, plotting to either eat just a few, or all of them, and try and get them back up.
It was a bit of a whim decision.
“After this, let’s split off again. Sam, you and Jack, go ask around, research potential nests. Cas and I, we’ll go prepare for the raid later.” Dean suggested.
“Yeah, sure, just don’t go running off super far, or get distracted. I’d like this done as early as possible.” Sam stated, as the food arrived.
Jack was quiet, and with it he stared down the fries. He wanted to eat them, really, but it felt as if he couldn’t. Something was stopping him.
“Jack.” Dean said, and it was all Jack needed to turn red. He looked down at the plate, picked up a fry, and started to tear it into pieces, consuming just a few of them, but many of them didn’t make it anywhere but the plate. It wasn’t until Cas noticed the mess, and just quietly shook his head.
Jack quietly put fries into napkins, slipped them into his pockets, and excused himself to the bathroom, hands in his pockets, hiding the mass of ripped up potato.
He chucked the napkins into the trash, and stared his reflection down for a few minutes. The awful way his eyes just gave everything away. There was too much heart in his eyes, especially with how dead his body seemed to appear.
Back at the motel, Jack pulled another layer over him. The cold air never seemed to heat, even with blankets, and anything else he’d try.
“Hey, Jack, let’s go find this damn nest.” Sam stated, and Jack walked to the door, with another hoodie under his jacket.
He followed Sam to the Impala, with tiny bouts of dizziness on his way.
It was almost as if he wasn’t there - just sort of watching his body exist.
Silence was the main sound on the way through the city, and while Sam questioned bars and other forms of nightlife - Jack just sat in the car, trying not to fall asleep.
Sam opened the car door, while on his phone.
“There’s an old warehouse on the outskirts of the town. The only one, which is really the only place they could be.” Sam stated, as the car started again. Jack ended up falling asleep on the way back for a few minutes.
It was some time before they left again. Jack on his phone, Dean getting more food. It was the usual sight.
Jack ended up eating a sandwich before six, just to keep everyone off of his back.
So time rolled around, and they pulled into the torn up parking lot.
“I’ll bait them out, and then you three, go wild with the heads.” Dean explained, and walked in, alone, while Jack waited outside with Sam and Cas.
“Will he be ok?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, he’s fine, not the first time we’ve done this.” Sam reassured Jack, and they continued to wait.
Dean came running out, leading the vamps straight into the other three.
Cas was smiting, Sam just got some heads, and Jack found himself with the final three.
They cornered him, and his legs, while shaking with each step back, seemed to buckle.
He didn’t exactly have the energy to continue, so with what he had, he just used his powers to rid of them, leaving himself exhausted.
So with the exhaustion, he found himself unable to continue to stand - so with it, he passed out.
He heard voices saying his name, but he just ended up losing consciousness.
Notes:
woah dude, hello again
Still trying to get a lot done
and still have a lot of writer's block
Chapter 17: Scapegoat: Rather Die and Know
Summary:
Confrontation
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jack found himself on the motel bed, his head aching as he sat up.
“Jack, hey, you’re awake.” Sam breathed. Jack just crashed back down on the pillow, his muscles still disoriented.
“I don’t feel too great.” Jack stated, as his stomach was churning - both awfully hungry and nauseous at the same time. He couldn’t help but feel the impending anxiety of Dean, the moment he would walk in.
“Yeah, well, you ended up passing out. How’s the head?” Sam asked, quietly.
“Pounding.” Jack explained. He felt his cheeks redden from embarrassment. He started to try and get up, but Sam was looking at him with some concern.
“It was a pretty hard fall, so take it easy, Dean should be here with food, any moment.” Sam stated.
Dean ended up walking back in a few moments later, and Jack found his anxiety really increase, especially with the look of concern on Dean’s face.
“How’re you doing?” Dean asked. Jack just sighed.
“In pain, but fine.” Jack explained.
“I brought you food.” Dean said, and Jack just sighed. He started to get up, so he could pack his bag.
“I’m not hungry.” Jack stated, and as he got up, he just fell back down, hitting the floor with his ribs. Dean just stared over him.
“You sure?” Dean asked, reaching a hand towards Jack. Jack just sighed, as he grabbed Dean’s hand, and pulled himself up.
“No. I guess I’ll have some breakfast.” Jack sighed, defeated. Dean handed him a takeout box with pancakes inside.
There was silence in the room, as everyone was eating, and Cas was staring off into the corner, as per usual.
It seemed either no one would talk about it, or there’d be some argument in the car later on. It was just the way it all seemed to work.
Jack ended up finishing the pancakes, while Dean had a side-eye observing him. There was no room for conflict, and Jack vowed to just puke it up later, if it came to that.
They finished packing the room, and prepared for the long drive back. Jack was in the back with Cas, as usual. He just remained silent, hoping no one would say anything.
Headphones in ears, rain falling - he just stared out the window.
Silence remained in the car, not even Cas was talking nonsense.
It took an hour before a word was spoken.
“You awake, Jack?” Sam asked. Jack found himself pulling his shoulders close.
“Yes.” He said, quietly.
“Just making sure, still in pain?” Sam asked. Jack shook his head.
“Headache went away.” Jack said, quietly.
“That’s good.” Sam said, his voice still the same soft tone.
It wasn’t until they pulled back into the bunker that anyone spoke.
“What’s going on? You’re obviously not ok.” Sam asked. Jack just found his gaze at the floor. He couldn’t seem to get words out of his mouth. He couldn’t really find breath either, as panic set in.
Jack just walked straight into the bunker, not able to see anyone’s face. It ended up being too much to bare. He ended up in the library - in a corner. Terrified of facing anyone.
“Jack?” He heard Dean call, and as much as he wanted to look, he couldn’t.
“I didn’t mean for it come off as rude, it’s just, we’re worried.” Sam stated, and Jack found himself peeking. He was tired of it all - really, but he just couldn’t get better, or eat, or gain weight - not now. He had just gotten to a place where his body wasn’t giving him awful anxiety.
There were footsteps by his corner in the library, and he looked up. Sam was standing beside him.
“I’m fine.” Jack said, quietly. Sam went to sit beside him, and just sighed.
“Look, I know things haven’t been the greatest. I mean, everything that happened with Heaven, and Chuck, and then throwing you into public school, which was probably the hardest, honestly. I know we haven’t really been there for you, really, but I want you to know that we are here for you. This is some rough stuff to get through.” Sam said, his voice soft. Jack looked up.
“I said I’m fine.” Jack said again, trying to keep the tears in his ducts.
“Yesterday begs to differ,” Sam said, and he held a hand out for Jack, who just pulled his knees closer. “I promise you’ll feel better when it’s off your chest.” Sam said. Jack just sighed.
“I don’t want to talk.” Jack said. His throat dry, and his white knuckles brushed with red marks - exactly where his teeth tend to scrape.
Sam’s eyes ended up on those - just for a moment, before jack quickly pulled his knuckles into sleeves.
More silence.
“I know why you have those.” Sam said quietly.
“You do?” Jack asked, hesitant.
“I mean, not from personal experience, but I know what they are.” Sam explained.
Jack just looked down. He wasn’t really sure what to say.
“So you’re not angry?” Jack asked.
“No, why would I? You didn’t do anything wrong.” Sam explained, and Jack couldn’t think of anything, but how angry it seemed Dean had been when Jack wouldn’t eat.
“Dean seems to be.” Jack said. Sam couldn’t help but smile.
“That’s just what he does; he cares just as much.” Sam explained, which did give Jack some closure, but this whole thing was too much.
“What do we do now?” Jack asked. He was scared of the answer - really.
“Honestly, I don’t know. Go see a doctor? The main thing is that you need to eat, and more than just some cereal or eggs. I don’t care if you’re a nephilim, you still need food.” Sam explained.
“I can’t eat, really...well at least not a lot. It makes me feel absolutely terrified.” Jack explained as best he could, without actually letting Sam know how bad it was.
“I mean, it’s not something that’ll happen overnight, but I-we just want to see you be ok.” Sam explained.
“I mean, I can try.” Jack said, defeated.
“Do you promise not to do that either, anymore?” Sam asked, and motioned to the knuckles.
“Not yet.” Jack said, honestly.
“What if you let me know if you do it? I just want you safe.” Sam suggested.
“I can try.” Jack tells him.
Notes:
haha, woah ya'll
things happened
how's it working?
I totally had a different story laid out, but stuff happens
Chapter 18: Drag Your Failing Body
Summary:
Struggling Jack
Chapter Text
It was awkward. Having everyone in the bunker know was awkward, but it wasn’t awful. They didn’t really force him to eat, but they definitely guilt tripped him quite a bit - which was annoying. He was still reluctant to eat - it wasn’t like some magical cure to have the world know about his disorder - no, it just meant that now he had a large sign on his back that just said “SICK”.
He was sick.
People on the streets sometimes stared. They sometimes gave sad looks - it was worse if he was with anyone else. They’d stare at either Dean, Sam, or Cas, as if they gave parent sympathy.
Jack just felt like an object - some form of sick object that required sympathy - even though he absolutely hated sympathy.
So he hid. He hid even more. He would purge in bushes. Walk further, both to burn calories and to find public bathrooms, just to puke. He hid his weight - it was easy in the dead of winter. He wore lots of baggy clothes, so the only thing that could get worse is his face.
But his weight remained stagnant with the amount of food he was required to eat - as Sam made sure he was at least eating something throughout the day.
Having Sam know was actually nicer than just Dean, who seemed to force food on him. Sam was the one to make sure that he was ok.
Cas wasn’t as good at support. He would just reassure Jack that things were ok, but not really know the circumstances.
Jack ended up getting up late - a little too late, as when he finished with the scale and walked downstairs, Sam seemed to already have finished up in the kitchen.
“Food’s in the fridge if you’re hungry.” Sam told him, and Jack couldn’t figure out if Sam was about to stay - watching, or if he was on his own to put some crumbs on a plate and pretend it was breakfast.
Jack waited for a second, for Sam to leave - and when he didn’t, Jack knew he was completely screwed.
He cursed himself silently, as he pulled a plate of pancakes out of the fridge, which had his name on it - funnily enough.
He gave Sam a sarcastic side eye, and sat down. He was irrationally angry, resentment of having to eat - as if the control had just been stripped away from him.
He did eat - and didn’t feel too horrible while he did so, but the awful feelings came afterwards.
He was silent, leaving the feelings to brew in his body - anger seemingly seeping, but remaining calm. He couldn’t do anything but let them sit, destroying him.
Sam seemed satisfied enough, and left, leaving Jack in the kitchen with an empty plate.
And Jack found himself in the bathroom quickly after, heaving into the shower drain until he got anything up.
Pain, there was a lot of - as well as the burning. Sometimes it just burned, and sometimes the food itself caused his teeth to hurt. He was a nightmare, breaking apart at every seam, as if it had already broken once, repaired, and broken again.
He couldn’t just tell anyone he was struggling - not if he wanted to keep doing it.
He spent a lot of time in his room - trying to pretend he didn’t hear them call.
It was for more food - because apparently the treatment for eating disorders wasn’t therapy, but forcing food down his throat, and Jack found it completely stupid.
He didn’t want to not eat - he just couldn’t find the motivation to eat. It was a stupid thing really.
It seemed to plague him - but it wasn’t quite pressing yet.
Jack just didn’t have the same motivation to get better as he had when getting sick.
Chapter Text
Things hadn’t improved. Jack was getting worse, but in a different way. He wasn’t feeling quite like himself at all, granted, he hadn’t felt like himself for quite some time.
This was different, quite different.
He was changing, mentally something was shifting. He was hungry, awfully hungry. His body was starting to fight the restriction.
The hunger tended to become painful if he ignored it for too long.
But Jack couldn’t eat, no, he couldn’t gain weight back. He was finally happy with himself. He could finally look in the mirror and not completely hate himself. He didn’t like himself, but there wasn’t burning rage in him.
This wasn’t helpful, because with food came fear that he couldn’t quite deal with - which led him to purge, and far more than he had ever really done before. He didn’t quite recognize himself, not when he was clean.
So in other, shorter words, Jack’s eating disorder had developed into bulimia.
Not the small periods or episodes - no - just a constant state of trying to hide his purging - whether in bushes, or in some trash bag he stole from the kitchen.
It was disgusting truly, but still his own way to cope.
Hiding it wasn’t easy - especially with everyone in the bunker so much more alert to the absolute crap that he was doing. It was all just frustrating - and Jack knew how easy it would be if he just didn’t have to do this - but no one was actually helping him, and this didn’t go away on its’ own.
So he struggled.
Suffered?
Jack found himself in his room once again - hiding from the footsteps in the hallway - he currently didn’t have a puke bag in his room, thankfully, but he was awaiting the bathroom to be freed up, so he could go puke the breakfast he had forced down his throat - which was a little too much - causing his stomach to actually hurt - a new problem that was arising.
He snuck out of the room, acid already seemingly brushing the tip of his taste buds.
He locked one of the stalls and let water run - which was so stupidly obvious, but Sam and Dean were pretty dense with sounds - lots of gunshots didn’t lend their ears too well.
Jack shoved his already blistering middle finger into his throat, and just puked what he could, hoping it was all, but nothing ever came out purely on the first try.
So he ended up flushing, even with the knowledge that it was awful - horrible for him.
Even a Nephilim needed some potassium throughout his system - which flushing loved to diminish.
It didn’t feel great.
Not like it ever did.
Jack ended up washing himself up, relieved that there wasn’t anyone standing by the door. Everything had become so much about secrecy. If no one saw - he was ok, no matter how awful everything was.
But this wasn’t easy at school, no.
Teachers asking, Jack would push them away. He didn’t really have friends, not yet. His social skills weren’t quite there yet, but he wasn’t as bad as he had been.
Jack found his own face unnerving - it wasn’t what it used to be.
Pale and his jaw was always swollen - a side effect from purging that never went over well. He found it pretty funny - how no one even questioned the sickly appearance anymore.
Jack walked down the stairs, and into the library to do some homework.
Stairs never felt so hard.
But suddenly Jack couldn’t really catch his breath.
He locked eyes with Dean before passing out onto the marble floor.
Notes:
holy wow
long time no write - but I finished the first draft of my book, and now have some time.
I'm determined to finish this thing.
Chapter 20: Witnessing the Wake
Summary:
Hospital feels time
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jack found himself awake - sounds coming from all ends of the room.
Or rooms?
He didn’t know.
He couldn’t quite open his eyes - but he could hear most everything around him.
Honing in on an argument - familiar voices.
“So what do we do?” A familiar voice was shouting, clearly distressed.
“I don’t know. He won’t talk, and now this? I thought Nephilim were basically bulletproof...Cas.” That was absolutely Dean.
“I guess they tire too. I don’t know, we’ve never really seen a Nephilim in his position.” Cas said, still devoid of emotion.
“So what is it doc?” Dean asked, as a door opened.
“He passed out from a potassium deficiency - not uncommon, but still can be dangerous.” A feminine voice said.
“Oh so like, he needs more bananas.” Dean said in his “I don’t understand, but I sort of know it” voice.
Sam cleared his throat.
“No, it’s an electrolyte, keeps the heart beating.” Sam said, in the usual correcting voice.
“Jack doesn’t-” Cas interjected. Dean kept him quiet.
“So what now?” Dean said - definitely in his irritated voice.
“We don’t know what caused it, not yet, but it’s not a large list.” The feminine voice said again.
“It’s probably the uh, food thing.” Sam pointed out.
“He stopped it though.” Dean quickly said.
“What food thing?” The feminine voice asked.
“Jack, uh, he had an issue for a bit. With food. He wouldn’t eat...well, not a lot.” Sam said, tripping over the words - it was obvious that the words were hard to say.
“Again, he’s fine now.” Dean said again - making sure that conversation could be over as soon as it needed to.
“Well this is a side effect to purging-” The feminine voice said
“Purging?” Cas cut her off.
“In this instance it’s basically making yourself puke - can be other things but-” She explained.
“Wait, you’re telling me Jack’s doing this?” Dean asked again - his “worried mom” voice starting to show.
“I mean, I’d have to ask, but all signs point to it, yeah.” She said.
Jack opened his eyes - finally, as the conversation died down. He was staring at the awful white walls. He stretched his arms up - trying to move his body, even just a bit. They were blocked by some thin tube which had been shoved into one of the veins in his arms.
The movement caught the attention of Sam, who quickly walked back into the room. There was a lot of stress covering his face - and Jack knew what it was from.
The air was absolutely awkward - Sam knew, Jack knew that Sam knew, but no one could say anything.
“How, uh, how you feeling?” Sam asked. Jack shrugged.
“Fine, really.” Jack said, which wasn’t a lie. Jack really didn’t feel horrible. Being a Nephilim meant that healing was short.
Why was he still here?
“Really?” Sam questioned, trying to push something.
“Yes. Nephilim heal quite a bit faster than humans.” Jack pointed out.
Silence continued. Jack avoided any eye contact - as it would make things more awkward.
He wasn’t really sure what would happen.
He just didn’t want to change.
The door closed again. Dean walked through this time, followed by Cas. Dean was worried - which was hidden underneath the usual angry demeanor he had about him. He looked like every single word wanted to just come bursting out - but they couldn’t.
“Hey, you’re awake,” Dean said, relief in his voice. Jack looked up. He couldn’t quite say anything about the conversation from earlier - as much as he wanted to. “How you feelin?” Dean asked.
“Why does everyone ask me that?” Jack asked.
“You passed out kid, what do you want me to ask?” Dean asked, frustrated.
“I don’t know. Sam just also asked the same question.” Jack stated, blatantly. Dean just noticed Sam in the same room, in the corner.
The awkward feeling remained. Cas was silent, but that wasn’t uncommon. It was Sam’s silence that really bothered Jack.
“Is something wrong?” Jack asked, after the silence kept on for far too long.
“No, nothing’s wrong.” Sam reassured Jack - completely fake - it was blatantly obvious.
“Then why am I still here?” Jack asked.
“They said you had low potassium - from purging.” Dean explained - barely able to get the last word out.
“Are you…?” Sam asked, quietly.
“I thought you were done?” Dean asked, angrily.
“I was, but it’s hard to stop.” Jack said, trying to reassure Dean.
“And you didn’t say anything?” Dean asked, his voice raising.
“I didn’t want to worry you.” Jack said. He could feel heat in the room, along with his own slow heartbeat pulsing in his ears.
Sam was back at the bedside at those words.
“You know we’re here to help, right?” Sam asked. Jack nodded.
“You would’ve tried to stop it.” Jack said.
“Of course we would’ve. This is dangerous, even for you - I mean look at you.” Dean said, now in that mood.
“I don’t want to stop.” Jack said, letting himself feel something.
“Stop what? The...purging?” Sam asked.
“Yes.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to? You keep saying you feel like crap, you look like crap, and you don’t want to stop?” Dean said - clearly ready for an outburst.
“Yes.” Jack stated. He didn’t want to explain it yet. He knew why - but Dean was part of the reason that the Anorexia evolved into bulimia instead of getting better.
The thought of actually getting better seemed absolutely horrrible.
Notes:
woah we doin this
How's quarantine ?
Chapter 21: Conflagrate the Ready Oil
Summary:
Therapy
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was awkward. Jack had to sit in a therapist’s office and explain, in detail to Sam, Dean and Cas what he was doing. He had to mention the times that he had puked in the bushes, or the scale in his room.
It took a long silence, and Dean getting just a bit angry before Jack could actually speak. He definitely had moments where only breath came out - and none of the time was spent looking at anything but the floor.
This was odd.
Usually he was the one in the therapist's office to get information for a case - not for any problems, but now there was no questioning - everyone was there for him.
Dean was definitely the angry-concerned parent. Cas was the quiet one, and Sam was the only helpful one - making sure to set boundaries during the conversation.
“I thought he just wasn’t eating - now this? Are you- why didn’t you say anything?” Dean exclaimed, the odd anger that came from concern in his voice.
“I didn’t want to stop. I’m sorry.” Jack said.
“You’re sorry. Yeah, for what? Destroying yourself-” Dean said, and Jack was about to speak up. “No, I don’t care if you’re a Nephilim or a human. This will destroy you.” Dean said.
“Dean, chill. He’s getting help now.” Sam pointed out.
“Now? Well, if it had been six months ago we wouldn’t need to be here.” Dean pointed out.
“Dean, therapy isn’t bad.” Sam pointed out.
“Why do I have to be here?” Dean asked, rudely.
Jack just shrunk. Dean had started liking him, until this moment.
Jack was just a problem. He had to just exist - defend himself for something that was both not his fault and entirely his fault.
“This is why-” the therapist pointed out. “Clearly there’s a lot of conflict.”
“Conflict? Everything was perfectly fine before they forced us into this whole therapy thing.” Dean exclaimed, irritated.
“Obviously it wasn’t. I mean Jack was basically destroying himself. You saw him, you heard him.” Sam said, he was starting to get angry.
One of the classic Winchester fights had begun - and it bothered Jack, but he didn’t have the confidence to get in between them.
“I’m confused. Isn’t Jack a nephilim? Nothing should affect him. I mean, hell I watched him heal many bullet wounds.” Dean blurted.
“Technically they can still weaken, which makes it harder to heal.” Cas pointed out, emotionlessly.
“Shut up Cas.” Dean said, giving Cas a side eye.
“Jack still needs help - even if this won’t kill him - it doesn’t make it easier.” Sam pointed out.
“So now you’re speaking for him?” Dean asked, still peeved.
“Well you’re not letting him speak.” Sam pointed out.
It went silent, and the therapist, who had just witnessed a very usual day in the bunker, blinked a couple times before processing what had gone down.
“Do you want to speak, Jack?” She asked. Jack looked up, slightly terrified.
“I, uh...not really. I don’t know what to say.” Jack said, quietly.
“So you do all this, and don’t even know what to say? How are we supposed to help you then?” Dean said, peeved again.
“I uh…” Jack trailed off. The therapist sighed.
“Dean, it’s ok if Jack doesn’t want to speak. This is a lot to process.” She pointed out.
“So how do we help him?” Sam asked.
“You’ll need to be there for him. Getting angry won’t do anything. You need time. This doesn’t just go away.” She explained.
“God. When you thought it was all over, this happens. It’s like we never get a break.” Dean exclaimed again.
“Dean, this is nothing, especially compared to everything we’ve been through.” Sam pointed out.
“I know, it just...I’ve lost everyone, and watching Jack do this, it hurts. It hurts to watch him waste himself, and I just. I can’t lose him.” Dean said, anger no longer prevalent, there was a crack in his voice.
“Jack will technically never die.” Cas pointed out, again.
“Cas, shut up.”
Notes:
basically Winchester fights are fun to write
Chapter 22: At the Stake
Summary:
Jack still ain't happy
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jack had gone back to school a few days after the hospital, and no one seemed to leave it alone. Some people reached out with genuine concern, others teased him for it. Jack had learned to just stop caring - no one really noticed him anyway.
He’d leave school early on Tuesdays and Thursdays for therapy. Dean would pick him up in the Impala, and they’d stop to get food. Jack would pick at it until Dean mentioned it, and Jack would just slowly eat, awkwardly. He didn’t like eating in the car, especially not with Dean watching over him like a hawk - only through side-eyes.
It was weird. Jack hated it. He really hated the fact that a lot of the control he used to have was gone - and he had to basically sign his life over.
He left his final period of the day early - by about fifteen minutes. He was making his way to Dean’s car, and ran into one of the kids who had screwed with him months earlier.
He looked up, keeping his shoulders hunched - walking at a distance.
“Leaving early Kline?” The kid said. Jack just kept walking, making sure to assert his disinterest.
“Yeah, not like it matters.” Jack muttered.
“You’ve uh, you’re looking better.” The kid pointed out - randomly. Jack turned again.
Basically meant that Jack was fat, that’s usually what it meant. Basically always had that meaning.
Jack dashed to the door - his mood changing in a second. He hadn’t felt horrible, at least not as he usually would, until now. It all changed - and now he felt like an absolute failure.
He quickly shoved himself into the car - shoulders forward. It was obvious that he was on the verge of melting. Dean noticed.
“You ok?” Dean asked. Jack pulled his hoodie over his hands - a method of comfort for himself.
“Yeah.” He lied - thinking it was enough to get out of talking - but the moment Dean shoved another stupid sandwich into his lap - Jack just couldn’t.
He just stared at the sandwich with a bit of vigor in his eyes.
“So you’re not ok?” Dean asked.
“I’m fine.” Jack said, trying to avoid the usual Winchester car banter.
Dean wasn’t having it.
“You’re not eating - something’s up.” Dean pointed out.
“I’m just not hungry.” Jack lied.
“Really?” Dean said.
“Yes.” Jack said. He couldn’t take the idea that he was even looking better - because that meant he was gaining weight, but with Sam taking the scale away - it didn’t do much but stress him out.
“Then eat.” Dean said, sternly. Jack just shoved the sandwich into the backseat.
“Not hungry.” Jack said, with more anger.
“Either you tell me what’s up, or you eat.” Dean said, pretty pissed.
Jack stopped for a bit. He didn’t want to admit much. It was easier to just keep everyone off of his back. Lie to them, make it look like he was fine.
Stuff rocks down his pockets, adding weight that shouldn’t be there.
It wasn’t a lie, he had gained weight, just not as much as everyone had thought he was.
He learned quickly that a whole water bottle added a few pounds, and then salt, and sewing coins into his clothes, and anything else.
“I don’t like this.” Jack said.
“What? You gotta be more specific kid.” Dean told him. Jack inhaled sharply.
“Any of it. I don’t like eating, at least not when I don’t have an escape plan. People notice. They ask about it. They know that I’m gaining weight. They’ll probably go back to making fun of me.” Jack finally explained.
“I know you don’t want it, but you were killing yourself.” Dean explained.
“I’m a Nephilim, this doesn’t hurt me.” Jack pointed out.
“Yeah, and that’s why you ended up in the hospital - Jack, I’ve seen some dumb things in my life, but this - it’s worse than stupid. Just eat the damn sandwich, it’s not hard.” Dean said in an outburst.
It left Jack speechless, and even more reluctant to eat anything. This whole thing made it all worse.
Getting better really just felt like he was getting worse.
Notes:
hello ya'll
back again
still big sad abt quarantine
Chapter 23: Binging the Culmination
Summary:
No one knows how to help
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“I don’t want it. I thought I already told you.” Jack shouted. He pushed a plate of pancakes back at Sam, pissed.
“I don’t care if you want it or not - this isn’t something you can just keep doing, we’ve been over this.” Sam pointed out, trying to keep his cool.
Jack wasn’t having it. People kept pushing food, when all he wanted was some understanding, closure on some of the trauma that he experienced before his life had become normal. He didn’t want pancakes, nor someone to sit there and keep telling him that everything would be ok.
He needed support that no one could give him, as they never really learned how to deal with anything either.
It showed in how they kept ignoring that anything was really happening, and shoving food in front of Jack thinking that it would solve everything.
It solved nothing.
“I can’t, Sam.” Jack said, quietly. He looked down, his eyes fixating on a piece of dust that kept brushing across the table.
“Why not? They’re pancakes, they can’t hurt you.” Sam retorted. Jack shook his head.
“I don’t know. Do you think I’d be here if I knew?” Jack confessed. He could feel the blood rush from his face, as his stomach dropped.
“Is it because of us? Something else? I can’t help you if you don’t know.” Sam said. Jack had always felt safer around Sam, which wasn’t unpredictable. Dean was the opposite. He liked to shut up about his problems, until they became unbearable. Cas - Cas never had these feelings, because angels didn’t really feel.
Jack felt alone.
“You’re not helping. Shoving food in my face makes it worse, really.” Jack explained.
“If we don’t, then you wouldn’t eat. We tried that.” Sam pointed out.
“You also ignored the problem. I just need to be understood. I’m not a human nor an angel - but this is so human that you might not even understand it.” Jack said, losing the humanity he had for a moment, and went into that gray area he hadn’t felt since the world ended. Part of it was missed. He missed the constant need to do everything, save the world every other week.
Nothing was left. He had fulfilled his purpose, but he was still here.
“Alright, how can we help?” Sam asked after clearing his throat.
“Well, you can stop yelling and maybe listen for once.” Jack pointed out.
Sam tossed a fork at the wall in a sudden fit of frustration. Jack flinched at the gesture.
“We’ve been listening, you won’t speak. I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.” Sam exclaimed, his voice teetering between anger and worry.
Jack looked up, a terrified expression on his face. He didn’t say anything more and escaped to his room. That had pushed him over the edge, and all he wanted to do was throw his body to the toilet, puke until the acid burned, and watch himself fall apart.
But he couldn’t. The bathrooms were no longer soundproof with the doors remaining open.
He just slammed the door to his room, distraught.
Cas stood shocked. He felt horribly about what had happened. Dean wandered in, confused.
“Uh, something happen?” He asked. Sam just stood before shaking the feeling off.
“I yelled at Jack.” Sam explained.
“Kid probably deserved it, didn’t even touch his pancakes.” Dean said, sitting at the spot, and basically inhaling Jack’s breakfast. Sam rolled his eyes at Cas, who gave just the slightest acknowledgement.
“We’re not doing this right. None of it.” Sam pointed out. Dean looked up, with a mouthful of sad looking pancake.
“Is there a right way? It’s what we were told by that hot nurse.” Dean said, which caused Cas to glare - but that was dissolved with a wink.
“Jack isn’t getting better. That’s a fact.” Cas stated, in the usual emotionless state.
“He’s not as thin as before - I say that’s progress.” Dean pointed out. Sam gave one of his “yeah but” reactions.
“That’s not getting better - he’s just as sick as he had been.” Sam said.
“He’s not dying.” Dean pointed out.
“Jack is a nephilim, he can’t die, even if he destroys his body. That said, Sam is right. Jack is just as stressed as before.” Cas said.
“So, what do we do about it. The kid’s eating, that’s what matters right?” Dean stated.
“Jack said he needs understanding, more support. He’s going through something pretty traumatic.” Sam explained.
“Oh, so Hell wasn’t traumatic? Being possessed by Lucifer? The Leviathans? Metatron? Chuck?” Dean said, angrily.
“I’m not saying that, I’m just saying that this is also traumatic, just in a different way. Dean, we’re done saving the world. This is life, something we haven’t quite experienced before.” Sam said.
“So it’s weak?” Dean asked.
Sam sighed.
“No, it’s different, can’t be hunted, or killed with a silver bullet. He needs support, not brute force.” Sam explained.
“So what? We’re talking about feelings now?” Dean asked, mockingly.
“Actually, yes Dean.” Cas stated.
“It’s a mental illness for a reason.” Sam pointed out.
“Great, you do that, I don’t even know where I’d start.” Dean said, pushing aside to the door - which Cas blocked.
“He trusts you Dean, besides, you’d definitely benefit from it yourself.” Cas said.
“Oh great like I’m gonna start getting all up in my feelings now. I’m not twelve.” Dean retorted.
“Alright, well, I’ll get him from his room, and we can talk - honestly,” Sam said, and turned back before he walked out the door. “No yelling please, it doesn’t do well.”
Notes:
tbh meant for this whole thing to 3rd person omniscent -
soz bc it only comes out every few chapters
Chapter 24: The Other Half
Summary:
resolving of an argument
Chapter Text
Jack had slammed his door shut - after Sam snapped at him. The tension was just far too high in the atmosphere - which was suffocating.
Jack paced the room in a bit of a panic. He was basically the reason everyone kept falling apart.
He was falling apart, but so was Dean, Sam, even Cas had changed since this whole thing had started.
Jack had started with chucking his pillows at the walls, and then moved to scratching anything that wasn’t his skin, and then his skin, and then he just zoned out - leaving the spots to bleed.
There was yelling downstairs - a plate had broken, and Jack felt like he was to blame for all of it. This was his fault - but he couldn’t control the reactions of others.
He had no control.
He was the problem, and there was nothing he could do to get anyone to listen to him.
Jack tried to block the yelling out with anything - and that meant being on his laptop - headphones awfully loud.
It scared him - but in the bunker - this was common.
Mainly Dean to Sam or Cas.
Jack was used to yelling - just not about him - it had usually been about Chuck or some demon - and Cas, before Dean got over himself and actually came out.
The yelling had died down again, as quickly as it had started, and there were footsteps coming up the stairs.
“Jack, you ok?” Sam called out.
Jack spooked, and pulled a hoodie over his torso, to try and hide the scratch wounds.
“Yes.” Jack said - fibbing. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone. This was the absolute worst time to be seen by anyone.
As often as Sam, Dean, or Cas would fight - He assumed that he had accustomed to it, but he still hated it - every time a voice was raised - it would stress him out.
The climb down the stairs kept his anxiety creeping. He was aware that a third chew out of the day was about to go down, and he just braced himself for more angry voices, and maybe a plate of pancakes.
Sam was beside him, and Jack couldn’t dare look up. As empathetic as Sam was - he was still stern.
Upon arriving back in the kitchen, Jack found a somewhat calm looking Dean, and some broken pieces of a plate in the corner - not helping the atmosphere.
“I uh, want to help, for real this time.” Dean said, in an odd tone. Something empathetic, something he had rarely ever been.
“So you won’t yell?” Jack asked. Dean sighed.
“No. I won’t yell.” He said.
Jack sat upon the table - his hands shaking, and the small scratches upon his wrist burned - only slightly. They tended to itch much more.
“So what are you going to do?” Jack asked. He looked upon his hands - fidgeting to keep his mind off of the problems that stand in front of him.
“I want to know how uh…” Dean said, looking at Sam with quite a perplexed expression. Sam cleared his throat, before just motioning Dean to continue. “How you feel.” Dean said, his voice reluctant.
“I’m confused, if you must know.” Jack said. He was swinging his legs - still sitting on the table, as all chairs seemed occupied.
“About what?” Sam asked.
“Well, everything. I don’t know why I do this, you know.” Jack explained.
“I thought it was from school?” Dean asked.
“Well, at the start, yes, but now I don’t know anymore. I just do this because I feel like I have to.” Jack explained.
“Do you not want to get better?” Sam asked. Jack shrugged.
“I guess I don’t know. I don’t want this to be the reason I’m weak, but I don’t want to lose it.” Jack explained.
“Why, is it giving you anything other than pain?” Dean asked.
“No. I just feel like I don’t know who I am without it anymore. I know it’s only been a few months, but it’s changed me.” He explained.
“And what would help?” Dean asked.
“A therapist, like we were told at the hospital, but you ended up saying no, because it’s weak.” Jack explained.
Dean looked at Sam with an unwilling look.
“Dean, it’s a good thing.” Sam explained.
“As reluctant as I am, I’ll help you find one.” Dean said.
“You might want to find one for yourself while you’re at it.” Cas pointed out. Dean passed a menacing look, causing Cas to shoot out of the room quite quickly.
Notes:
I uh did the thing - work's been busy, and lotsa things, so sorry.
Chapter Text
“I don’t know why I do it anymore, honestly.” Jack said; his voice low.
“And what do you mean by ‘anymore.”
“It used to mean something to me, but now it’s just something I have to do, you know.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
“Don’t know, I’ve not gone a day without it. I guess I am addicted.”
Jack wasn’t keen on therapy - not when it was mandated by the hospital, and not now. The lady, Laura, kept asking him questions - and they were all questions that he didn’t want to answer. They were hard, and Jack always wanted to leave.
He was still unhappy - that hadn’t changed in months. The new year had pulled, and with it came the worst time of the year. Jack hated February, but now, when he was in school - it was worse. Kids had friends - and actual lives outside of school.
Girlfriends, boyfriends, and everything in between - while Jack sat alone at lunch, playing with his sandwich - trying not to eat it.
The cold didn’t help. He was much more depressed with the dreary weather.
The bullying had stopped now. No one cared about Jack - he was just the “weird kid” in school. No one acknowledged him. Not even the few people who had been nice to him in the fall. The whole eating disorder thing seemed to be enough to keep him isolated.
Jack pulled his outermost hoodie over his palms - to try and keep warm, even in the heated school, as his body temperature was still ridiculously low.
The bell rang, as Jack snuck the sandwich into the trash before leaving the lunchroom. He assumed there’d be more eyes on him, but no one seemed to care, and Jack took advantage of that. He couldn’t even fathom eating at lunch - it felt so foreign.
Jack didn’t feel great as he walked towards his sixth period class. His head was pounding, and he could feel his vision spotting. He wasn’t about to pass out. He knew that feeling, and it was different.
This - it was more just a side effect of starvation. Jack was used to it. He even welcomed the feeling - it meant he was succeeding.
The success being his own self-destruction, but veiled as just “another 10 pounds”. Even with his weight dropping under 110 for the first time.
Jack couldn’t lie. He was concerned, but it was also the first time he felt any form of accomplishment since he had saved the world.
He floated his way into class, and basically fell into his seat - the two kids sitting beside him looked almost concerned as Jack met their eyes.
“Dude, you good?” The kid on the right asked. He had curly brown hair and round glasses. Jack was blanking on his name - Cory? Cole? It started with a C. That’s all he knew.
“Fine. It’s been a weird morning.” Jack said, and then pulled the assigned book from his bag.
Jack found himself zoning from the discussion in the class. The teacher was going on about tragic heroes, and Jack found himself thinking of everything else. Food especially. He was excited to get home, so he could eat.
Which felt dumb, but it was also a sign of starving.
“Did you even read the book?” The girl on the right asked, Jane.
“I did.” Jack stated, proudly.
“Great, will you help us?” She asked.
“You didn’t read it?” Jack asked, and she immediately shushed him.
“She’ll hear you. No, I didn’t read it, I had diving practice.” She whispered.
“Ok, I’ll help. It wasn’t hard to get.” Jack said, as he started writing down his own observations, and let the other two put them together, so they had something to turn in by the end of class.
The concept of working with other people wasn’t easy - but after this class, Jack found it bearable. He couldn’t lie - he liked Cole, especially after figuring out his name wasn’t Cory. He also liked Jane. They were nice to him - and not in a pity sort of way. They were actually nice, as if he was a human.
Jack wanted to cry - obviously he wouldn’t in a class of 30 people, but he was overwhelmed with joy; just from feeling like he was a part of something.
The class passed, and he went to pack up his stuff.
“Hey, so I was wondering which lunch you had?” Cole asked.
“C.” Jack said.
“Heyo, same, if you wanna sit with us?” Cole suggested. Jack nodded.
“Uh sure, I can only do it on Gold days though. I have A on Red days.” Jack explained.
“Oh yeah, totally understandable. I think Jane was A on Red days - maybe find her tomorrow.” Cole said, and the two walked out the door.
Jack made some small talk with Cole, before heading towards the front door, to wait for Dean.
He spent some time on his phone, hungry and impatient - but far too unaware.
He was pushed back into reality by a loud honk.
“Dude, you gettin in?” Dean yelled, and Jack awkwardly slinked into the passenger seat.
“Sorry.” Jack said, and put his backpack between his knees as Dean sped off.
“How’d it go?” Dean asked.
“I met some people.” Jack said.
“Like you met them? Or did you actually talk to them?” Dean asked.
“I talked to them. They invited to sit with them at lunch.” Jack explained.
“Was there a girl? She cute?” Dean asked. Jack found himself turning red.
“Not like that. Besides, Cole was the one who I talked to more.” Jack explained.
“Was he cute?” Dean asked.
“I don’t know.” Jack said, and he buried his head into the seatbelt for the rest of the drive home - knowing the absolute panic that would come with being home.
Notes:
Yeah, I needed to come back to this after that ending, dear god.
I will try to update more now that school closed bc of covid
Chapter 26: The Same Sameness Debacle
Summary:
Jack isn't getting better
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
There wasn’t a lot of change in two weeks. The weather was still gloomy, Jack was still puking into the bushes after dinner, and everyone else was frustrated with him.
It was another dinner, and Jack was shoving the food along the sides of his plate, trying to figure out if he wanted to eat anything, or try and wiggle away from the table - with another dumb excuse.
“Hey kid, you gonna eat?” Sam asked quietly, trying to avoid Dean’s frustrated eyes.
“I don’t know. I’m not feeling too great.” Jack whispered.
“Would you feel better if you could eat in your room?” Sam asked. Jack nodded.
“Yeah.” Jack said, and started to walk away from the table.
“Where are you going?” Dean asked, his eyes glaring.
“My room.” Jack said, and pointed towards the stairs.
“You haven’t even touched your food. You’re not going anywhere.” Dean said.
“I was going to eat in my room.” Jack said, turning red. His eyes were locked with Cas’s own sad eyes.
“Yeah, and the last time you did that I found moldy pizza under your bed. You’re staying. End of discussion.” Dean yelled.
“I just-” Jack said, quietly.
“Just eat the damn food, or I’ll cancel your therapy session this week.” Dean yelled, clearly irrational in thinking.
“Dean, stop.” Cas said. His voice just as distressed, and his hand lay atop Dean’s. It was a way of calming Dean.
“That’s the actual opposite of a solution.” Sam pointed out.
“Well they’re clearly not working.” Dean said.
While the heat of the argument raged, Jack dragged his body up to his room - drowning out the noise.
“What are we supposed to do now? Do we just wait until he’s back in the hospital?” Dean asked, sitting back down.
“We need to support him.” Sam said.
“Yeah, but you’re the one who found the moldy pizza, after he promised to eat it. He’s lying. Jack doesn’t want to get better.” Dean pointed out.
“So what? He still deserves support.” Sam said, calmly - as he tried to be the middle ground.
“For what? Killing himself?” Dean said, on a whim.
“He’s getting help. It’s not going to get better overnight.” Sam pointed out. Cas stood up, with Jack’s plate - as he had enough of the chaos. He walked up the stairs, and knocked on the door before opening it slowly.
“I uh, I know Dean can be difficult. I promise you he cares. I brought you dinner, uh, I know you’re hungry.” Cas said, carefully.
Jack looked up.
“Thanks.” He said slowly, and grabbed the plate.
“You doing ok?” Cas asked. Jack just kept his back turned.
“Please go.” Jack said quietly, and waited until Cas closed the door to even touch the food.
He was hungry, yes, and that absolutely bothered him. He picked at the food that felt safe, and consumed just a bit. It was enough to make him feel better, but he stopped with remorse, knowing it was just going to get worse.
Jack opened his door, and snuck into the kitchen to put his plate in the sink, but spooked when he saw Sam, who was grumbling, while trying to wash the two-week buildup of dishes in the sink.
Jack started to sneak back out of the doorway.
“It was your turn to do the dishes, Cas. Five days ago. They’re still here-” Sam said, before turning and realizing it was Jack “Oh, hey, sorry. You doing ok?” Sam asked, his voice turning a full 360.
“Yeah. I brought what I didn’t eat.” Jack said quietly.
“Just put it by the sink.” Sam said, and Jack gently placed it before slinking back towards his room.
His mind moved straight towards getting the food back up. He wanted nothing more than to puke.
But he was also exhausted - his energy dipping back down again.
Jack fell asleep without throwing up in the bushes for the first time in a month.
And he absolutely hated himself for it.
Notes:
More chapters? yea
Chapter Text
“He’s not getting better, we’ve been fighting for months, and he’ll just eat the bare minimum.” Sam said to the therapist, as they currently had their monthly family therapy session.
“Has it improved since the first session? Or at all?” The therapist asked.
“Well, yes-” Sam said.
“Then it’s working. Recovery isn’t easy, especially for high school students.” She explained.
“But you see him, right? He’s days away from a hospital. I feel like I’m watching him die...again.” Dean said, his voice lowering with the last few words. He was worried, even with his hard-shell exterior, Dean cared an awful lot.
Jack sat silently, his eyes staring at the beige wall. His heart was racing. Group therapy never went well. Dean, as hard as he would try to seem unbothered - he cared too much. It was caring too much that had him angry, and all Jack felt was fear.
Sam asked too many questions. He was worried about Jack, and that was fine, but he seemed too invested - it was uncomfortable for Jack to have no boundaries.
Cas was stoic, yet reasonable. The middle man between Sam and Dean. He cared, but wasn’t great at showing it.
“Jack?”
“Jack!”
Jack snapped out of his trance, as he heard Sam raise his voice.
“What?” Jack asked.
“What would help you? Sam was asking how to help.” The therapist asked. Jack just looked to the floor.
“They keep asking me questions. About food. I’m sick of talking about it. I just want to be left alone.” Jack said, his voice raising and lowering.
“Would you eat if you were left alone?” She asked. Jack shook his head.
“No. I don’t want to.” Jack said, quietly.
“Yeah except when he’s eating the kitchen and throwing up in the bushes.” Dean pointed out, and it went quiet.
“I- I haven’t heard of this. Jack are you binging and purging?” She asked. Jack nodded, his head still down.
“And why is that? When did it start?” She asked.
“I’m hungry, but I’m scared of being hungry. I’ve been doing it since December.” Jack said.
“You don’t want to stop, do you?” She asked. Jack shook his head. He had his knees pulled to his chest by now; while his hands fidgeted with the baggy jeans.
“No. It feels good.” Jack said. He couldn’t lie about the high. He constantly chased the first binge, the first purge, the first week of starving. He could never feel good, not anymore.
Really he couldn’t feel anything.
“It will kill you.” She said, calmly.
“Not really, I can’t-” Jack said, before being cut off by Dean.
“Jack, it will.” Dean said - giving Jack a look.
Jack remained silent. He looked upon his hands, and ignored the voices in the room.
“Eating disorders are hard. Like an addiction. Jack developed it because of bullying, we know that, but as the bullying subsided, he was still feeling high from the starving. It became a coping mechanism.” She explained to Dean.
“And the puking?” Dean asked.
“Well, there’s something that happens after starving. He was probably hungry, and experiencing the reactive binging, but without the proper support, his eating disordered brain probably freaked out. Purging, it produces dopamine; Jack probably needed something to counteract the lack of emotions from the starving.” She explained - putting the small snippets of information together.
“Say it again, as if I’m dumb.” Dean said, clearly confused.
“Of course. Basically, Jack’s coping with some of his trauma with the disorder.” She explained.
“Is there a way to fix the trauma?” Dean asked, and Cas kicked his shin.
“You don’t just fix trauma, idiot.” Cas said.
“He’s right. Whatever Jack is dealing with, he needs to get through it. Jack can accept his trauma, but it won’t just go away.” She explained.
“So what do we do?” Dean asked.
“Support him. Sit down for one meal, and be gentle. I think the arguing at the dinner table is stressing him out,” She said, and looked at her phone. “Our time is up, I’ll see Jack back here in a few days, and we’ll meet for a family session again in 10 days.”
“Yeah, bye.” Dean said, and he received another swift kick from Cas.
“Dean.” Cas said.
“Right, uh. Thank you for the help.” Dean said, and looked to Cas to find a smile across his face.
“Good bye.” She said, as Sam helped Jack out the door.
Notes:
!!
hello to all of you !
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StaplerQueen (Bananaise_San) on Chapter 1 Mon 12 Aug 2019 07:14AM UTC
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Itsnotokaysammy on Chapter 2 Sun 11 Aug 2019 08:48PM UTC
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StaplerQueen (Bananaise_San) on Chapter 2 Mon 12 Aug 2019 07:19AM UTC
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MaggieWJV on Chapter 3 Wed 14 Aug 2019 07:17AM UTC
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Momofdbb on Chapter 4 Sat 19 Oct 2019 08:08PM UTC
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StaplerQueen (Bananaise_San) on Chapter 5 Thu 15 Aug 2019 07:13AM UTC
Last Edited Thu 15 Aug 2019 07:14AM UTC
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MaggieWJV on Chapter 5 Thu 15 Aug 2019 02:27PM UTC
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Account Deleted on Chapter 5 Fri 16 Aug 2019 05:42AM UTC
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cambrianwolfpack (Guest) on Chapter 6 Sat 17 Aug 2019 01:10AM UTC
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cambrianwolfpack (Guest) on Chapter 8 Thu 22 Aug 2019 11:07PM UTC
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Account Deleted on Chapter 9 Sat 24 Aug 2019 03:24AM UTC
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crow_ghost on Chapter 10 Tue 18 May 2021 03:40PM UTC
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briana (Guest) on Chapter 11 Fri 30 Aug 2019 03:47AM UTC
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anon (Guest) on Chapter 12 Wed 11 Sep 2019 12:28AM UTC
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cambrianwolfpack (Guest) on Chapter 12 Fri 13 Sep 2019 11:39PM UTC
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NeoSoul on Chapter 12 Sat 14 Sep 2019 01:46AM UTC
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anon (Guest) on Chapter 13 Sun 15 Sep 2019 04:26AM UTC
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Lily (Guest) on Chapter 14 Sun 22 Sep 2019 05:04PM UTC
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cambrianwolfpack (Guest) on Chapter 14 Sun 22 Sep 2019 10:12PM UTC
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oof (Guest) on Chapter 14 Tue 24 Sep 2019 01:04AM UTC
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Destiel shipper (Guest) on Chapter 15 Sun 13 Oct 2019 07:27PM UTC
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lols (Guest) on Chapter 17 Thu 09 Jan 2020 03:07AM UTC
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NeoSoul on Chapter 17 Thu 09 Jan 2020 03:09AM UTC
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