Summary: Sam wants Dean to work on improving his self-esteem. Dean is not thrilled. Diary format. Post AHBL2.
Disclaimer: Dean isn't mine, poor woobie.
A/N: Fair warning, this is not humor. It's kind of introspective and angsty, maybe. Dates are entirely arbitrary, based on Roadkill being in late February and subsequent events taking some time. I wrote this right after the finale, was going to post it, but then went "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if I did a graphic version for my LJ page?" and so that stalled me looking for a font that was close to Dean's handwriting, then getting side-tracked by other things... anyway, here it is. And this is all there is. The graphic version is up on my LJ, link is on my author page here.

Dean's Daily Affirmations
by CaffieneKitty

May 15, 2007

Sam got me this stupid book, I'm supposed to write something nice about myself in it every day. He's hovering over me, watching me write this. Yes you are, bitch.

Whatever. Good thing about me. I have awesome taste in music. Happy, Sam?

May 16, 2007

God, he's going to make me do this every frigging night. It'd be way easier if he wasn't staring at me.

Yes you are.



Dude, this:


is you, staring.

Yeah, bite me.


Sam still sucks his thumb when he sleeps.

I told you to stop reading over my shoulder, asshole!

Good thing about me. I can kick Sam's ass in hand-to-hand. There. Can I go sleep now, Doctor Feelgood? Or do you wanna spar some more?


May 17, 2007

Made a deal with Sam. I'd write in his stupid book if he'd stay on the other side of the room. He can see me writing, so that's fine. Whatever. Who thought up this crap anyway? Write something nice about yourself before you go to sleep, you'll feel better about yourself. What would make me feel better about myself is a steak dinner, a beer and a hot chick that can tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue. That's the kind of affirmation I need. Not some stupid pop-psychology crap.

Fine. Good thing about me. I have hooked up in all lower 48 states. No, wait. Not Delaware. Or DC. Is that even a state, or what? Whatever. We can get to both before the year is up. Yeah.


May 19, 2007

DC is beautiful. Seriously, I mean the women are gorgeous and awesome and sophisticated and just scary smart and all, but the whole city is beautiful. All the old marble buildings and stuff get lit up at night, and there's history all over the place, and less than half of it is really haunted, which is nice for a change. Sam didn't say a thing when I said we were going to DC either, even though there is no case here.

Don't know why Sam thinks I need to do this writing crap, I'm fine. I mean even if I did need frigging self-esteem, what's the point? I'm getting dragged down to hell in a year. What's self-esteem good for then?

He said Bobby told him what he said to me in the junkyard before Ellen showed up. Says Bobby figures I'm all messed up 'coz I traded my life for Sam, Bobby thinks there's a "problem" with me, because I did what had to be done to save Sam's life. Bobby doesn't have a frigging clue and should mind his own damned business.

Good thing about me. I don't let anyone screw with my family. Nobody.


May 22, 2007

Sam's being a real bitch about this book. I went to 'forget' to pack it when we left DC, but Sam found it and made me take it. Bunch of crap. Next time, I'll burn the damn thing. Better anyway. Don't need stupid things I wrote lying around in a random hotel room, not after Sam told me what Andy did, sending me a vision using my signature on a receipt.

Hasslehoff. What a poser. K.I.T.T. was an awesome car though. Wonder if we could get the Impala bullet-proofed, so we won't have to worry about getting shot at by Hendrickson, that pain in the ass. That's one thing, FBI'll probably ease off Sam when I'm dead.

That's what I should do, at the end. Turn myself in to the FBI, say I did everything they say, including what they say Sam did, let 'em fry me, save the hellhounds a trip. Maybe make things easier for Sam after I'm gone. Keep the FBI off his ass anyway.

He better take good care of my car.

If that bitch demon turns around and takes Sam after I'm dead, I will tear apart Hell itself. I'm swearing that, right now.

Good thing about me. I keep my word.


May 24, 2007

Hi SAM, you asshole. I know you're reading this, after that little blow-up you just had at me about turning myself in to the FBI when my time's up. After I leave this where I know you can find it and read this entry, I'm putting it somewhere you will never find it. And before you freak on me, yeah, I'll keep writing in the stupid thing. I promised I would.

Get off my back! Of course I'm gonna plan for stuff that happens after I'm dead because that's the way it's probably gonna be. I know you're looking for a way to get me out of it. You're searching, Bobby's searching, it's great, you know, and I'm not downing you guys for having hope and all, but it's just the way things are, Sam. I'm not gonna live my last year in denial of the deal I made. I made my bed and I'm lying in it.

I've got a year, and that's better than I had last year around this time. I was dead after the crash, Sam, or as good as. Dad brought me back, and yeah, I kind of hated him for it for a while, but I understand it now. There wasn't any other choice, same as when I made the deal for you, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. You're my brother. You were dead. I had to save you. I-

Just stay out of my things, bitch. Oh, and here's a good thing about me. I can hide stuff where you will never, ever find it, and I can and will kick your ass if you give me any more grief about this crap.


May 30, 2007

Promised Sam I'd keep writing in this stupid thing.

Really, overall, I'm happy, I guess. I mean, the Demon's dead, Dad's not in Hell, Sam's alive, and I've still got most of a year left to tie things up. Things are pretty okay.

Bobby's saying demonic activity is spiking all over the place, it was pretty inevitable after the gate opened, and I'm not happy about that. Ellen's been on the phone for days, calling up hunters and people she knows, letting them know what happened and getting people prepared for what's coming. Sam and me are, well we're okay. Sam's all uptight and pissy and half the time won't talk to me, which is just fine, 'cause all he talks about is my deal, and how come I'm so calm, and why am I making lists of what I need to get done before I die.

What really pisses me off about the way Sam is handling this is he was all "Oh, I'm fated to be evil, I'll just accept it, there's no way to fight it," ever since I told him what Dad told me, but I've made a deal and am coping with it, and he's turning on me like I've given up. I haven't, but I'm being realistic. There is no way to break this deal. That demon bitch at the crossroads won't fall for what I did for - what's his name the accountant guy - again, and I will break both Sam's legs myself before I let him anywhere near a crossroads with a hoodoo goodie bag.

I mean we've got a year, and it's going to be just stupid busy with all the demons cut loose out of Hell. The odds of finding a way out of this deal are not good, and I know that, but I know Sam needs to have some hope about this. Even if he did find a way though, I wouldn't take it. I'm not breaking my word, and I'm not breaking this deal. If I do, Sam's dead. So I need to make plans, because that's just the way it is.

Another thing, with all the demonic activity and Ellen calling up people, while Sam's getting a chance to meet up with these other hunters, I can check them out and get Ellen and Bobby's read on them. Work with them on a hunt, maybe, make sure they're all right. I want to make sure Sam's got good people who'll watch his back after I'm gone.

This frigging sucks. But I'd still do that deal again any day.

Good thing about me. I take responsibility for my actions.

- - -
(that's all, like I said, not humor)