A Worried Brother (s7)

[hunter_returns]

Sam pulled away from the drivethrough window, stopping long enough to push back the little plastic lid and take a sip of the hot, bitter coffee. He glanced in the rear view mirror, checking on his fitfully sleeping brother in the back. He was pushing himself too hard, asking too much, and as usual, trying to do it all alone. The scotch had finally put him under long enough for Sam to haul his brother into the backseat.

The cup balanced on one leg, Sam turned the car back onto the highway. They had to drive most of the night if they wanted to meet up with Bobby on time, and Dean was in no shape to drive. Again. He switched the headlights on and accelerated, breathing in the warm smell of the coffee against the cool interior of the Impala.

He was trying not to let his frustration show, and the longer Dean insisted he was fine, the more frustrated Sam got. He wasn’t all right. He was coming apart at the seams, and he wasn’t letting anyone help him. Dean was back to that same self-destructive bent he had when he’d come back from Hell. Thinking he wasn’t worth saving and so wrapped up in self-hatred and guilt that he didn’t even see how much it was hurting the people that loved him.

He sipped at the coffee, letting the cup rest between his legs as he drove. Dawn was just starting to tint the sky a pale shade of blue. It was going to be one hell of a sunrise.

He’d told Dean the truth. He still saw Hell, still saw Lucifer, and there were still times when he had a hard time telling the difference between what was real and what wasn’t. But he was getting a handle on it. He felt better. He wasn’t laboring under any illusion – he’d never be all right. He’d always be a Grade A Freak, but at least he was managing. Sam.. couldn’t help but wonder if Dean resented him a little because somehow he’d made peace with his past, with everything that he’d done.

His mind amended bitterly that if the stubborn jackass would just talk to someone.. he’d probably feel better too.

But he wouldn’t. Because it was Dean and he didn’t know any other way.
So Sam drove on in silence. He drove, and he worried. He was losing his brother and he didn’t know how to save him this time.

Comments

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

He was sleeping fitfully. The nightmare he was trapped under, despite the scotch, had been the same as many others. Hell. The rack. This time, it was a little different.

This time, in place of nameless, faceless souls, the rack was full of people that had fallen into or was a part of the family - with Dean - and paid with their lives.

Jo. Ellen. Pamela. Dad. Ashe. and many others.

He didn't mean to, didn't want to, but in the end, Dean ended up cutting through them all. Osiris's trial had just confirmed what he already knew.

No, Dean wasn't alright. He wasn't fine. During their most recent talk, he'd said as much to Sam, he'd given his cry for help, it was just up to Sam to hear it...

He snapped awake silently, and there was confusion written on his face for a minute, before Impala, Back Seat sunk in.

Wait a minute.

"S'm? Why'm I in the backseat?" Voice muzzy with sleep and impending hangover.

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

He glanced at his brother in the rear view mirror and bit back the snarky remark that nearly slipped past. That wasn't going to help matters now.

Problem was, Sam didn't know what was going to help.

"Because you were tired, Dean. You needed to sleep and we're still meeting Bobby tomorrow."

The scotch hadn't helped matters either.

Sam had heard the cry loud and clear. He just didn't know what to do about it. "Here." He passed back his coffee without taking his eyes off the road. "Probably need this more than I do."

They drove along in silence for a few more miles before Sam spied a sign. 'Scenic overlook ahead, 5 mi'.

That was as good a place as any.

Sam pulled into the stop, threw the car into park and pocketed the keys. They weren't going anywhere until Dean talked. Sam looked down at his hands on the steering wheel, rubbing the scar across his palm.

"You can't keep going like this, Dean. We need you, but we need you together. And don't.. don't tell me you're fine. You're not."

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

Dean took the coffee when it was offered, and it was gone before Sam had pulled over. He rubbed at his temples with his forefinger and thumb, and his brain caught up to what Sam was doing when he stopped the car.

"You have me. I'm together. I'm dealing. You're saying it like I've already flown the cuckoo's nest."

Well, this looked like it was going to need a 'hair of the dog'.

"stay there." And with a small groan where his head protested against his movements, he opened the car door, and got himself out. He stretched, feeling his spine crack after sleeping in the back as he did, and popped the trunk. He grabbed the small bottle, and climbed into the front after secreting it in his jacket inside pocket.

"Come on then Dr. Phil. Let's do this."

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

He shot him an irritated look at the evasion, waiting while Dean rummaged in the trunk. Did he think he was a complete moron? Sam knew exactly what he was doing.

"No, Dean. You're not. You were ready to let Osiris gank you when none of it was your fault. Hell, you looked pissed at me when I told you that I didn't feel that guilty anymore."

"You drink until you pass out. And even then you're still having nightmares."

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

Yeah, the drink used to help with them. At least, he thought it was the drink. Maybe not. Whatever. He was more than aware that he was increasingly dependent on the alcohol, and frankly? He didn't care. Getting through the day with a drink or in him was better than not getting through it at all.

None of it was his fault? Who the hell does Sam think he;'s kidding?

He sighed heavily. "Not pissed at you for it." Well.... he'd admitted a lot before he'd drunk to pass out last night. Maybe he could just set this little thing straight. "A little jealous, I guess."

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

This was worse than the summer Dean had come back. At least then.. he'd finally talked to him. Not this time. This time, he kept trying to avoid the problem and avoiding talking about it.

"Dean.. it's not your fault. The life we lead.. it's not safe, it's not safe and people get hurt. But that doesn't mean you have to hold yourself responsible for all of it. You're not omnipotent, you can't see everything coming."

"Stop trying to do it alone. Please. Let us help you."

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

He shook his head, and glanced out of the window briefly. It was purely just needing anywhere to look except Sam.

"Everyone's got enough to worry about without me adding to it."That, and he didn't know what he could do to even start to make up for a lot of his guilt.

"No, I can't - as you said back in that damned room: I'm not the one with the psychic gig. But I should be able to do a better damned job of doing something when it does come."

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

"You're wrong, Dean. If we don't take care of each other, we're not going to be able to.." Sam trailed off.

Not going to be able to do what? Save the world again? Find Cas? Save or avenge him?

"You keep carrying it around like this and it's gonna break you apart. Me and Bobby.. we need you Dean. We need you together. Talk to us. Talk to him. Punch me out, kick the car, do something!"

Sam had learned to handle a lot of things. Watching his brother self-destruct was not one of them.

....It didn't start out this long >.(\

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

...You want to talk, Sammy? How about talking about the fact that I ran my knife through the heart of that kitsune chick, and didn't feel one goddamned bad thing about it, even though her freaking kid saw me? That my only regret about it is that you're going to find out, and I'm staring to just count off the days until when?

How about the fact that this whole goddamned mess is my fault. And Osiris was right: It was all my fault. If I had never pulled you back into the game in the first goddamned place, this domino effect shit never would have happened. All because I was too frigging weak to be alone; too scared of it.

Let's talk about all the people that have died instead of me, or 'for' me, When I shouldn't be alive in the first goddamned place. The fact that I keep getting pulled back into the game when I'm out of it, and the fact I'm starting to do doubt that when I do die, whether it's this thing that kills me or some other fugly, someone or something else will drag me back to another mess to clear up, and I'll just be expected too just give my goddamned life, death, and the little, tiny chance I have for some goddamned rest. And the fact I probably will.

What about the sleepless nights for the both of us? the fact that I need a goddamned drink to function anymore because the hole in my chest is so damned big, I can't feel anything else these days? And the fact is that the supports I had to keep it from swallowing me whole are dying, breaking apart, or goddamned disappearing one by one, and even if that wasn't my fault - which we both know at the end of the day it is - there's still not a goddamned thing I can do except take a goddamned seat, take another damned drink, and watch the goddamned show.

Lets talk, Sam. Because I'm sure that'll all change with a few words and some crying into my cereal. Talking will make the world's problems go away, make you sane again, build Bobby's house the hell back up, and bring Cas back.

Let's talk.

He took the bottle out of his jacket, and opened it. maybe the answer lies at the bottom of this bottle. Or the liver disease that the scientists warn you about. Probably not. My bet's on this one being frigging empty, too.

"I said what I had to say after the trial and you stopped the execution."

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

Exasperated and worried Sam stared at him as he took out the flask. His drinking was getting worse. It hadn't interfered with a hunt, but at the rate he was going? It wasn't going to be much longer.

No. Dean was going to keep on internalizing, and he was going to have to watch his brother come apart at the seams because he was too damned stubborn to reach out for help.

A haze danced along just outside his field of vision. Reflexively, Sam rubbed at his palm. The stitches were long gone, it didn't even hurt anymore, but there was something about the gesture that reinforced what was real and what wasn't.

"Dean, it's okay. Look, you can't keep holding this in."

Re-thread

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

"And that is where you are dead wrong, Sammy." Remember the advice he gave you after he got your soul back? 'Keep it all in and let it out in bursts of violence and alcoholism'?

He's taking his own advice.

No, he'd said what he needed to and gave his cry for help. But help definitely didn't include this amateur Dr. Phil crap.

<3

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

Sam hadn't forgotten. In fact, that's what had him so concerned. It hadn't helped then, it wasn't going to help Dean now. Frustrated, he snatched the bottle out of Dean's hand and held it at his side. He'd heard his brother's cry for help. The problem was the stubborn son of a bitch wasn't letting anyone do anything about it, least of all him.

"Stop, Dean. If you're not going to talk to me, then give the freaking bottle a break for a day. You're getting as bad as Dad used to be."

<33

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

You did not just go there.

If he was bringing Dad up? He was leaving. He didn't need old wounds that still bled - even more so after Osiris - being raked at.

"Sam, shut up." And give him the goddamned bottle back. But he's not desperate enough to reach for it. He's not.

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

He threw up his hands. "Fine. Then if you're so fine, you can give the scotch a break for a damned day. When we hit town, we need to break out the Fed suits and no one's going to take Agent Geddy Lee serious when you smell like a goddamn distillery."

"You need help, Dean. You need to talk to someone. It's fine if it's not me. But talk, get laid, get into a fight, just stop bottling all of this up. Please."

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

"It hasn't affected the job, or my ability to do it, so what's the goddamned point?" No, he was really starting to get pissed off with this. The last thing he signed up for as a goddamned intervention.

"And just so you know, Sam." He let his irritation stress his his brother's name. "Last time I talked? I ended up on trial for my goddamned life. And lost!" He thought back to after Jo had disappeared. He'd picked up the lighter... and yeah, he'd contemplated just flicking it. But no, he'd slipped it back in his pocket, and carried on with the shit-storm he called his life. Because Sam needed him to.

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

"What's the point?" Incredulous, he stared at his brother.

"The point is you lost that trial because you didn't think you were worth saving. You still don't. Never mind the people around you who give a good goddamn what happen to you. Never mind the fact that I'm watching you come the fuck apart and you won't let me help."

Sam shoved the bottle back in his hands, his voice quiet and hurt. "Here."

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

"No, the point is that I lost the trial because everything is on me." He took the bottle back, but didn't swig from it. Instead, he replaced the cap, and held it between his legs.

"Talk. That's what you want to do, Sam. Talking doesn't it. It won't change anything." It won't stop him coming apart, it won't do anything.

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

Sam barely suppressed the violent urge to grab Dean and shake him until his teeth rattled. "Did you hear a goddamn thing I said in there? It's not on you. Yeah, you called me when Dad went missing, but it was my decision to stay. Mine."

"You've done that since we were kids. Stop. It's not all on you. Stop paying for my mistakes."

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

It's not like you had much choice there, was it, Sammy? Me dragging you back in took that damned choice away.

And while he knew deep down that staying with him was a mistake... It still kinda hurt to hear Sam say it aloud. Like a damned shot through the heart.

"...fine, whatever." He went back to looking out the window and trying to fix the gaps in his damned emotional dam, making himself unreadable.

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

Punching him won't solve anything.
Punching him won't solve anything.

"Ass." Sam clenched the wheel and shoved the key back into the ignition, jamming the car into drive. There were only so many times he could extend his hand and get it bitten before he was going to seriously reconsider doing it again.

Would he ever stop completely? No. But there were times when he very seriously wondered.

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

"Be careful with the damned car." He snapped, before going back to looking out of the window.

While most of his trouble lay in the fact that he didn't want to talk about his issues, firmly set in the belief that it wouldn't and couldn't change anything so what was the point in burdening others with his problems when he can suck it up and deal with it on his own... the other problem lay in that he'd been sucking it up and dealing alone for so long, he didn't know how to let others help.

It's times like these he almost wished Sam would punch him. He knew how to deal with that better; and it'd also not only let Sam vent some of the irritation he was feeling, but Dean knew it was less than he deserved.

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

The longer they drove, the more irritated and upset Sam got. He needed to help Dean and his dumbass brother couldn't or wouldn't let him.

Sam had been doing better since the reservoir. Not great, but better. Until he lost control of his emotions. When he got pissed off, frightened or hurt, the flames licked a little closer to his field of vision and Lucifer became that much clearer.

He tried to ride it out, white knuckling the steering wheel for miles until he finally pulled off, pale and sweating. "Drive. Just fucking drive."

Re-thead

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

If there was one thing he could do? It was focus on and take care of Sam. He'd been watching Sam out of the corner of his eye for a little while now, growing increasingly more concerned.

It was when they pulled over that he finally said "Hey, you okay, Sam?"

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

Sam could barely hear Dean's worried voice over the roar in his ears. He could only cling to the steering wheel, squeezing it as hard as he could. His eyes were distant, lost in a hallucination he couldn't snap himself out of. Losing Dean. Whether it was a hunt gone wrong, or suicide, or Dean just.. walking away, the end result was the same.

He was alone because he couldn't stop it.

You know that's how it's all going to end, Sammy. Dean's going to melt down and eat a bullet. Then you will, because you've never been strong enough to go it alone.

His voice was low, grating. "Drive. Just.. hn drive."

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

He's taking that as a no. He gets out of his side of the car, and opens the driver's side door. He takes a tight grip on Sam's arm, trying to drag him back.

"whatever it is, it's not real. It's bull, Sam."

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

Oh but it is real, Sammy. You know it as well as I do.

The muscles of his arms are taut, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He knows it's not real. But he can't snap himself out of it, not this time.

Lucifer is right.

He was going to lose his brother. "D-Dean.."

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

He slides his hand up, and uses his thumb to dig into the shoulder joint. He didn't realise that he didn't feel as bad about it as he should. Hell, he didn't feel all that bad about it at all at the minute.

He needed Sam.

"Sam, look at me. It's different. Remember?"

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

Pain shot like fire down his arm where Dean was jamming his thumb against the bundle of nerves. It was enough to slice through the fire and the blood long enough for him to let go of the steering wheel.

Oh no, Sammy. Not so easy this time, is it? Not when you know that I'm right.

He made a low, tight sound of pain, forcing his hand to grab his brother's forearm.

Dean was real. He could hang onto that.

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

"Sam? Are you with me?" He hated the desperate note to his voice.

Sam had to snap out of it. Had to.

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

He clawed his way through the hallucination, through the fire and the blood and the sharp things tearing at him again and again.

Dean.

Sam nearly fell against Dean as he finally broke out of the illusion. His eyes screwed shut, all he could do is gulp in huge draughts of air and try not to shake, not to come apart.

"Y-yeah. M'here."

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

His hand loosened it's grip and relief threatened to overwhelm him.

"Okay." Well, it wasn't okay. Far from. But right now, he was taking what he could. He'd go insane, otherwise.

"Climb over then." because if he pretends nothing's wrong.... well, even then it won't get better. but he can pretend it is.

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

God. This was some kind of sick joke.

Both of them were a hair's breadth away from falling apart into nothing while trying to convince each other that everything was fine and save the world.

Sam gave a shaky nod. He held onto Dean's arm as he got out of the car.

"I can't do this without you, Dean," he said raggedly. "Please." Do whatever it took. Go drinking, find a hooker or three, get into a fight, Sam didn't care anymore. He needed his brother intact.

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

"I know you can't." It was Famine's words he heard in his mind. There's a hole and nothing can fill it. Not drink, not food, not sex. He's feeling that again. He never stopped feeling it, but there's only so much he can lose, and so much he can give before it's going to swallow him whole.

Right now Sam was the only thing stopping it, and the drink was just numbing the ragged edges.

"Just... focus on the job first." And the next one and the next one.

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

Sam made a quiet, broken sound and looked away. He tilted his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes against the throb in his temples.

"Just let me help you," he murmured, not even aware he was speaking out loud. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally and all he wanted was to be able to look at his brother without that nameless terror that one day he was going to be gone.

"Please."

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

The car pulled off back onto the road now Sam was settled in the passenger side, engine purring beneath them.

"This job... What are we looking at again?" He kept his gaze on the road. No, Sam couldn't help. Because that would mean he had to tell him about Amy, and then Sam wouldn't want to help. But he'd had to do it.

He was stuck in a vicious cycle and he didn't know how to break out of it.

[hunter-returns.livejournal.com]

How you underestimate your little brother, Dean. Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, his voice wooden. "Standard ghoul's nest We'll get there tonight. Bobby's got us the usual contact at the coroner's office, we can probably sniff out the nest the day after."

He let his hand drop, but left his eyes closed, letting the quiet sound of the motor start to lull him to sleep. He was so tired.

[100deaths-a-day.livejournal.com]

"Awesome." He flicked the music on, but left it at a suitable level for Sam to sleep. Sam didn't sleep enough any more.

...Not that Dean was exactly great at sleeping himself. But he hadn't been for years. And it was more important Sam slept.

So he drove quietly, letting the sound of the engine lull Sam to sleep and the music signal and end to the conversation.