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

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[100deaths_a_day]

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]

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]

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]

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."

Re-thread

[100deaths_a_day]

"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]

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]

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]

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."

Re-thead

[100deaths_a_day]

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]

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]

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]

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.."