Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

Written for Hogwarts Assignment 10 - Women's History - Task 6. Write a Healer!AU

And for the Holmes Mystery challenge - Anger

Word Count - 429

Beta'd by Amber

Good, Bad, Crippling

Seamus did his rounds, checking charts, handing out potions and making people better with quick thinking and a charming smile.

He loved being a healer.

He was the guy who didn't mind being called in for extra shifts, or who never complained about still being there three hours after the end of his shift.

Healing was his calling.

When he was at the hospital, he felt right, and good, because there were people in the world that would be dead if it wasn't for him and after the way his school years had affected him, it felt good to be making a difference in the right way.

Except…

Seamus couldn't live at the hospital. He couldn't move his things into his tiny office and stay there where he felt good and right.

He had to go home.

And at home, Dean was waiting for him.

Seamus loved Dean with everything in him, and he had since they were very young. He knew that for as long as he lived, he would love Dean.

The problem with going home was that he never knew what he was going home too.

There were good days.

Days when Dean would look up from his sketchbook and smile, would kiss Seamus happily in greeting. They'd spend those evenings curled up together, watching movies or talking and just being them.

Those were Seamus' favourite days. The days when he could see the Dean he knew before.

There were bad days.

Days where Dean would stare at the wall for hours, not moving, not acknowledging Seamus. Just staring. Where Dean wouldn't eat, or shower, or move. Days when Dean just didn't care enough to live.

Those were the days Seamus wished he could have stayed at the hospital, because seeing Dean that way and not being able to help, hurt. Those were the days that Seamus' anger threatened to overwhelm him.

And there were crippling days.

Days when Seamus would come home to find Dean trembling in a corner, his eyes wide and his movements skittish and fearful. The days that Seamus would spend hours coaxing Dean back into the here and now instead of the vast forests and countrysides that were in his mind, where danger lay around every tree branch.

Those were the days Seamus dreaded the most, because seeing Dean so scared and fearful was painful enough to bring tears to Seamus' eyes.

And so, Seamus loved being a healer.

But what good was being a healer when he couldn't fix the only person that meant more to him than his job?