Disclaimer: Neither 'Supernatural' and its characters, nor the lyrics to 'So Tired' belong to me and I do not profit in anything other than enjoyment and reviews from their use so I hope their owners don't mind me borrowing them momentarily.

A few Song lyrics are borrowed from Ozzy Osborne's 'So Tired'.

Rating: swearing.

Spoilers: Pilot

Summary: Dean's feeling tired and depressed when he's separated from Sam and Dad. (Poor Dean – aaahh!)

Author's Note: This started to come to me as I sat at the traffic lights on my way to work yesterday morning. I have had a day teaching since then, no sleep and it is now the early hours of the following day so I shall re-read this carefully before posting. Fingers crossed hoping it meets with approval (reviews would be good – hint, hint!). Thanks for reading.

Time has come to say goodbye
I know it's gonna make you cry

Dean stood in the rain at the bus station watching as the bus pulled out and left. He knew that if nothing else, he should move back under a shelter but there just didn't seem to be any point. He needed to see the bus for as long as he could. 'Stupid! It's not going to change anything.' He watched until the bus was out of sight.

Wishing! So much for it! A fool's game. Wishing had never changed anything in Dean's life for the better. It had never made anything he wanted real, it hadn't brought his mother back when he was four and it certainly wasn't going to bring Sammy back now. He had to accept it. 'Suck it up, Dean!'

The irony now was that much as he wished the bus would reverse and bring Sam back to him, the other half of him didn't want it to do that because he knew it wasn't what Sam wanted. He just knew he was a selfish son-of-a-bitch for wanting Sam to come back and so that was why he'd wished Sam good luck, given him an envelope with the money he'd won at pool a couple of days ago and taken him to the bus stop. Hell, his self-recognition was the pits. He spent more time trying to go against what he actually wanted to do than doing what he wanted; particularly when it came to Sam or Dad.

I am so tired (so tired)
And I just can't wait around for you

Dean thought back to when his brother was born and how he'd been so small. Last time, he'd seen Greg and Pam they'd told him how he'd always verged on the hyperactive until Sam was born. The contrast was that he'd still run and kept everyone on the lookout for what trouble he might be up to but that he had developed a tendency to suddenly stop, go quiet and go and check 'baby Sammy was okay.' Pam had described it as 'really sweet' (which meant truly cringe-worthy in Dean's book) and she had described how he would sit and watch Sam in his cot or pram and how he would talk to Sam. She had said once mom had died, he doubled his efforts. He didn't remember anytime when he hadn't been watching out for Sam and now Sam didn't want him to watch out anymore. He was tired of trying to mediate between Sam and Dad and so maybe Sam was doing the right thing by leaving but god, he just felt even more tired since Sam's bus had driven off.

I keep believing that you mean what you say
Be my tomorrow, now tomorrow's today

Dean sat on the bed. Listless. He'd always wondered what that felt like and figured he knew now. He'd finished the job Dad had sent him on and it had been a hard one. He had been trying to get an answer from Dad's cell since he'd finished the job but there'd been no answer, he couldn't even get through to his voicemail. Dean had called as soon as the ghoul was finished off with no luck and so had cleared up the mess and seen to his own injuries before trying again, still no answer. He'd driven for two days, only stopping when he really couldn't manage to drive anymore and be sure of actually staying on the road. He'd tried phoning every hour, Dad still hadn't picked up.

Now he was back at the motel, sat on the bed and there was nothing – Dad had cleared out, leaving him nothing, no message, no clue as to where he'd gone.

When Sam had left, Dad had said they made a good team even without Sam, that he needed Dean to stay and that they needed to back one another up. Then gradually over the months that followed, he began to send Dean on solo jobs, always the excuses, too many jobs needed action at the same time, better use of available time and manpower. Dean could almost see the humour in how he'd been sucked in, believing what he'd heard. Fool that he was, he had wanted to believe what Dad had been saying that he was a good hunter and that it worked well but that when it counted they would always have one another's back.

Reality was dawning through his thick skull, Dad didn't want him around. Sammy had always said that Dean made up in brawn for what he didn't have in brain. He'd always thought he had played along with that but that he was brighter than Sam thought, well, the truth will out as the saying goes. Sam had been right all along. Dean knew he was too thick or maybe he just kept on expecting more than he deserved from his family and they sure knew how to kick his legs out from under him.

I am so tired (so tired)
And I always thought we'd see it through, yeah

Too tired to carry on. He didn't know where to start looking for Dad. He hadn't really rested since the fight he'd had on the last job, he'd driven almost straight through, worrying about why Dad wasn't picking up his phone. Nothing. He didn't have anything to go on. So tired. Dean faced it; he was going to have to rest before he started trying to find Dad. He was as useless as a baby when he was this tired, he could barely remember his own name, let alone be able to hold it together with a believable alias. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. He'd sleep now and face the rest later.

And I often sit and wonder why
You're not with me tonight
I stayed at home remaining true

Dad had been gone for a fortnight. Dean had phoned every contact that he could track down a number for. He'd gone through newspapers looking for a job that might have tempted his Dad away before he got back. He had rung dozens of motels in the areas of jobs where he thought his father might be. He'd come up with nothing. He was out of ideas. Or rather he was down to his last. Looking at his watch, he figured he could get to Stanford in about 24 hours, if he left now.

And I often sit and wonder why
You're not with me tonight

Shit, Sam had a girlfriend. Well, that was something he hadn't mentioned in those rare letters he'd received or in the phone calls when Dean had phoned him. It made no difference Dean realized, because he needed Sam to go with him. He'd waited for Sam to come back all the time he'd been at Stanford and well he just couldn't wait anymore.

I am so tired (so tired)
And I just can't wait around for you

Dean shrugs his shoulders trying to shake off the feeling as Sam gets out of the car to go back into Jess at Stanford. He knows this will be the last time he gets left by Sam. He can't take it: he won't be back for more. The tiredness is just too much. It's even worse than when Sam left the first time and he's brought it on himself this time. He can't blame Sam or Dad. Neither of them told him to do what he did; hell, they'd have both told him not to bother. He smirked wearily, who'd have thought that Dean would be the one to find something that Dad and Sam would have agreed on. He rested his head on the steering wheel. 'Just give yourself a minute,' he thought, 'then you have to face it. This is your life. You made the choice, Dean, so suck it up.' But, god, he just felt so goddamn tired

So tired, so tired

God this life sucks. Dean knew he'd got Sam out but somehow, he just had this feeling, that somehow, it really was his fault and that Sam was never going to forgive him for this. If they found Dad now the first thing he would say would be what an idiot Dean had been. If he hadn'tâ€Ĥ god, he was so fucking tired, he couldn't face even thinking about it. Just so goddamn, fucking tired.