Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dean groaned when he heard his phone ring in the early hours of the morning. He blindly grabbed for it and answered. “Yeah?”

“Dean Winchester?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Look, sorry to bother you man but I have Sam here and-”

“Sam?” Dean was suddenly wide awake. “Where is he? Who are you?”

“I’m one of the bartenders at the bar just off the highway and uh Sam’s gonna need a ride. Took his phone and you were the first contact so I figured you were a safe bet.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m his brother. I’ll be there in 10. Thanks, man.” 

Dean hung up the phone and pulled on his boots and jacket. He sighed. Sam hadn’t been doing well following Jess’s death. Not that Dean really expected him to be in a good mood exactly but he was spiraling. And now, apparently, he was sneaking out to bars in the middle of the night to get hammered. Not a good sign. Dean knew a thing or two about drowning his pain in alcohol which meant he also knew that it didn’t work forever. Eventually, Sam would have to face his pain, not ignore it.

When he pulled into the parking lot, it was nearly empty, save a few employee cars and a straggler or two. The bar was just like any other dive he’d been to; grimy and reeking of desperation. He spotted Sam at the far corner hunched over a glass of whiskey. He looked exhausted, eyes bruised and sunken, skin pale. Dean slid onto the stool next to him.

“What do you say we get outta here, Sammy?”

“Leave me alone, Dean.”

“Not gonna happen.” He watched Sam down the rest of his drink. “Look, you don’t gotta talk, but you can’t keep avoiding it either.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He threw Sam’s arm over his shoulder and hoisted him up. Sam tried to push him off to no avail. “Let’s go, big guy.” Dean tossed some money on the counter and gave the bartender an appreciative nod as he pulled Sam toward the door. Sam stumbled but used his legs enough to help Dean get him in the car.

He slumped against the window and closed his eyes. Dean pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the highway. Fortunately, Sam remained unproblematic during the ride, dozing in and out of sleep on the short trip. Dean parked the car directly out front of the motel door, but it was still too far of a walk for Sam.

“Come on Sammy, let’s go.” Dean swung open the passenger door and had to catch Sam so he didn’t flop onto the ground.

“No. Comfortable,” he whined. 

Dean rolled his eyes and hauled Sam upwards. “Come on, use your legs,” Sam whined again. “I’m gonna leave you on the street if you don’t work with me here.”

“You’re mean,” he pouted.

“And you’re sloppy.”

Sam frowned but finally got his footing under him and stumbled to the door with his arm slung over Dean’s shoulder. Dean unlocked the door and deposited his brother on the bed. Sam immediately tipped over and landed flat on his back.

“Nope, not yet. At least take your shoes off and drink some water.”

“Not thirsty.”

“I don’t care.” Dean filled a glass in the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of Advil from their medical bag. Sam was already asleep when he returned. He nudged his shoulder and Sam groaned, swatting at him. Dean caught his arm and pulled him upright. “Drink half of it and I’ll leave you alone.” Sam frowned but took the glass anyway as Dean crouched down to take off his shoes for him. He had a feeling if he let Sam do it himself he would wind up faceplanting onto the carpet. When Sam finished half the water, yes exactly half, he shoved it against Dean’s chest and laid back down. “On your side.” Sam flipped him off but rolled over before promptly falling back asleep.

With his brother now safe in bed Dean was finally able to take a deep breath. He got up to splash some water on his face and stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt before returning to his own bed and turning in for the night.

Chapter Text

Dean’s intent to get a full night’s rest was interrupted a few hours later when heard his brother’s thundering footsteps, the slam of the bathroom door, and the unmistakable sound of retching. Sighing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and wiped the sleep from his eyes before heading over to check on his brother.

“Sammy?” He knocked on the bathroom door. He could hear his brother panting from the exertion, but he didn’t answer. “Sam, I'm coming in.”

“No, don-” Sam cut himself off with a harsh retch as Dean pushed open the door.

“Awe, Sammy.” Dean crouched down next to his brother and rubbed his back as he heaved. He half missed the toilet on his first round coating the seat and part of the floor. When Sam was done, Dean handed him some toilet paper to wipe his face before wetting two washcloths; one to lay across the back of his neck and the other to clean up the mess.

“Dean, ‘m so s’rry,” Sam slurred, he was crying.

“It’s alright, Sam. I’ll take care of ya. Just lean back so I can clean up, okay?” Sam nodded and scooted back against the bathtub curling into a ball and resting his head on his knees. Dean made quick work of the mess and discarded the soiled washcloth before turning his attention back to Sam. “Are we moving you back to bed or are you itching for round three?” Dean teased but stopped when Sam started crying harder. “Hey, man. It’s okay. Happens to the best of us. If you gotta puke it up you might as well get it over with.”

“Dean I-” Sam reached out and grabbed Dean’s wrist tightly. He looked up at him, his eyes blurred with tears but he couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out without sobbing. Moments later, he was back with his head in the toilet. 

“Better out than in, Sammy.” Dean brushed Sam’s sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“Go back to bed, ‘m fine.”

“The fact that you’re worshiping the porcelain gods right now says otherwise.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You’re my little brother. I’m always going to be here to take care of you.”

“I’m not worth it.”

“None of that bullshit, okay? Once your stomach settles I’ll get you back in bed and we can talk in the morning when your head’s screwed on straight.”

“M’kay.” He swallowed hard and tried to calm his cries.

“Deep breaths, Sammy. Don’t go passing out on me.” 

Sam took a few shaky breaths and closed his eyes. He leaned back against the tub again with his hand on his stomach. After several minutes without puking, Dean decided it was time to get off the floor.

“Think you’re done?”

“For now,” Sam muttered.

“Alright, let’s go.” Dean helped Sam up and guided him to the sink. He handed him a fresh washcloth and his toothbrush. “Wash up.” Sam groaned.  “Trust me, you’ll feel better with some cool water on your face and that taste outta your mouth.”

Eyes lidded, Sam cleaned his face and brushed his teeth, admittedly feeling a little better. Dean guided him to the bed and laid him down, pulling the covers up over him. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am sorry.”

Dean shook his head. “I know, Sammy. It’s all gonna be just fine.”

Chapter Text

Dean didn’t get much sleep after that, deciding his time would be better spent getting ahead on their next case. When the sun rose and the town they were staying in livened up, Dean headed out to the pharmacy to get some supplies for Sam. 

Dean had just finished up his breakfast when Sam finally stirred. He looked up from his laptop. “How’re you feeling?”

“Been better. Headache.” He paused to belch into his fist. “Nausea.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, that’s what happens when you drink yourself under the table.” He sighed “Water and Advil are on the nightstand.” He reached into the plastic bag on the ground next to him and tossed Sam some Pepto. “Down some of this if you think you can stomach it. Then we can talk about getting some food in you.”

Sam gagged around the pills. “Please, don’t talk about food.” He cracked open the Pepto and gulped it straight from the bottle.

“You wanna tell me what happened last night?”

Sam’s eyes dropped to his feet. “Nothing. Just had a little too much fun.”

“That wasn’t fun. That was- Hell, Sammy were you trying to kill yourself?” Dean hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he was worried about his brother. Sam didn’t deny it.

“I’m gonna shower.” Sam quickly got up, effectively ending the conversation.

Dean leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He was at a loss. Sam was always ready to talk about his feelings; Dean always knew what he was thinking. But now, Sam was broken and Dean didn’t know how to fix him.

Chapter Text

Sam stood in the bathroom, still in his clothes from the night before as he white-knuckled the countertop. He couldn’t bring himself to look in the mirror. To see the mess he had become. He turned away and reached into the shower to turn it on. The sound of the rushing water made his head spin. Frustrated, he sat on the closed toilet seat with his head in his hands as his tears started to flow. Sam didn’t quite know how to put everything he was feeling into words, but he knew he needed help. He knew he couldn’t drink himself sick in hopes that maybe one day he’d take it too far because the truth is he didn’t want to die. But he couldn’t keep living like this either.

He shucked his clothes and stepped into the shower, hissing as the hot water burned his skin. He adjusted it and stepped back under the spray letting the water rinse away the stench of sweat and liquor. As he massaged the soap into his skin his breath caught, out of nowhere, and then he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t get enough air. All he could see in his mind was Jess, stomach split as she burned on the ceiling. He stumbled out of the shower, bashing his shin on the tub with a yelp. He wrapped himself in a towel and scrubbed his hands down his face wishing there weren’t tears there. 

“Dean.” He called out. His chest felt like it was going to explode. 

He heard Dean’s footsteps approach and then a gentle knock at the door. “Sammy? You alright in there?”

Sam choked on a sob, “No.” Sam’s leg felt weak, his whole body shook with sobs.

“I’m coming in, okay?” Dean swung the door open just as Sam’s knees gave out. “Alright, I gotcha.” He caught Sam under the armpits and lowered them both to the ground.

“Dean… I’m sorry.” Sam cried into his brother’s chest.

Dean just held him, cradling his head as if it would protect him from whatever was on his mind. “I gotcha, Sammy. I gotcha,” he intoned. 

“Dean, I-I need… h-help,” he choked out. Dean looked down at his brother fear in his eyes. Fear because what if he couldn’t give Sam the help he needed?

“Okay, Sam. Okay.” And even though it wasn’t a solution or an answer, Sam finally felt heard.