trans_9 | Don't call it a promotion, call it longer hours

The Precinct had been hopping of late with people needing to be sent to the Brig. Dean hated how short handed they were between people getting re-podded and the mission taking a good chunk of the crew. Left the rest of them with a skeleton group and a lot of newcomers thanks to the recent podpop. He was still struggling with going over notes and reports from previous attacks. Trying to put together as much information as he could and catalog it all. If he got it right, it'll be a great help for any future incidents and at least give other Security a starting off point of where to go.

Plus it gave him a chance to bury his troubled emotions into something, but he was clearly running himself ragged of late. He hadn't been at the house much, mostly sleeping fitfully at his desk the few times he slept. Plus meals been mostly of liquid content though he was avoiding the tavern for the most part for personal reasons.

He just hoped some of the new members could lend a hand or two.

(!NOTE: This is available for people in the brig to thread as well)

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Yeah, well, Sam doesn't count that. Because he doesn't know about it. (Even if, technically, he had been there. Or a version of himself had been there. That got too confusing.)

"I know you grew up fast, Dean. You're the reason I didn't have to." And he's grateful. "But we're not in the middle of a job right now. You don't HAVE to push yourself. There are people here who can help."

Like Sam. And the rest of Security. "Let me take this for a while and you can go lay down."

"I'm in the middle of a job right now. This is my job, and we don't have enough." he had to push himself just to keep the dark thoughts buried in the ground like they should be. He could avoid most of the reminders of K.. and the resurgence of Hell memories mixing together. It wouldn't be so bad if the clock hadn't stirred the shit up again.

Dean stubbornly started to stand up, and he got a few feet before his stance wavered from side to side. Just another dizzy spell, he fought them off before. He could do it again. He fought and struggled to keep himself upright.

When he got himself steady again, he gave a cocky grin.

"Nothing to it."

Of course that was when his eyes started to roll to the back of his head.

And Sam had been waiting on that. Too much liquor, not enough actual food or sleep. It was going to catch up with Dean at some point. He was just glad he was there when it did.

He shot up out of his chair, crossing the few feet to grab Dean around the shoulders, taking his full weight. "Yeah. Nothing to it." Sighing, he looked around, glad to see an empty cell near the door with a bed. They weren't the most comfortable things in the entire world, Sam knew that from personal experience. But they were good enough for Dean to sleep this off.

Decided, Sam shifted and pulled his brother into a fireman's carry, grunting under the weight but more than able to carry him through to the cell and the bed. Getting him down was less graceful, but he managed it without bouncing him too badly.

Likely comparable with some of the more suspect motels they had stayed in over the years. From Dean's perspective, his vision was blacking out, but he remained conscious enough to murmur a few quizzical sounds. He tried to help Sam but his body was too weary to do more than let his limbs dangle. Upon getting flopped into a bed, his eyes fluttered sightlessly before sliding closed again. His tired brain taking note of the prone position sent a signal to his body so he fell asleep quickly.

Which was damned good. Sam sighed, rubbing his face as he looked down at his brother, then shook his head and walked out of the cell. He left the door open, so that he could get to him quickly if necessary. Then he sat down at the table and tried to make sense of his brother's notes.

Don't call it a promotion, call it longer hours

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