Sam stared up at the water-stained motel ceiling through eyes that felt lidded with sandpaper. He watched as the dark blue shadows in the room were occasionally illuminated with the false sunrise glow of the headlights of cares as they passed the room, speeding past on the highway to destinations unknown.
Sam listened to the sound of his brother breathing lightly as he slept, having slipped into unconsciousness hours before, leaving his younger sibling to struggle to follow him into that nighttime land.
Glancing to the side, Sam could see the red glare of the numbers on the ancient alarm clock sitting on the bedside table, seeming to mock him.
Deciding that sleep was only going to continue to elude him, Sam sat up on the edge of his bed. Sighing, he brushed his bangs away from his forehead and blinked, trying to rid his eyes of their gritty feeling.
Standing, Sam walked across the small room to the bathroom and closed the door. He put the toilet lid down and sat, sitting without turning on the light.
Shoulders slumped, as though under an immense weight, Sam clasped his hands between his knees and struggled to control his breathing.
In… Out… In… Out… In…
He sucked in a single deep breath, than another and another, feeling as though he couldn't get enough air into his lungs, feeling as though he were suffocating.
A quiet knocking on the bathroom door made Sam jump.
"Sammy? You okay in there?" Dean's voice asked from the other side of the door.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam forced his voice to be light and untroubled
There was a pause, and then Dean spoke again.
"No, you're not."
It wasn't a question. Sam did not reply.
"You've hardly said two words to me all week," Dean continued, "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing," Sam replied quickly, too quickly, and stood, turning on the tiny bathroom's light, "Can you give me some privacy?"
"Bullshit," Dean growled, "What's up?"
"I… I'm…" Sam stammered. He glanced at his reflection in the spotted bathroom mirror and suddenly had to grip the edge of the sink of support.
"Sam?" Dean asked and eased the door open, peering in onto the room.
Sam turned away from his brother, hot tears were welling up in his eyes and he didn't want Dean to see him cry.
"Sammy?" Dean called, softy, and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.
"Something's wrong," Dean continued, "What is it? You can tell me."
Sam hesitated. Dean might think he was weak. He'd just tell him to suck it up, to get over it.
"Whatever you're thinking, Sammy," Dean said, "Don't. Tell me what's going on. Talk to me, please. You haven't been yourself. What's wrong?"
"I… I think I need help," Sam whispered and turned to his brother.
Dean said nothing as Sam wrapped his arms around him. He reciprocated the gesture and held onto his younger sibling just as tightly.
"I'm scared Dean," Sam spoke, his mouth pressed against his brother's shoulder muffling his words, "I need help."
"Okay Sammy, okay," Dean wasn't sure what his brother was talking about and it frightened him but he knew he couldn't show his fear. He needed to be strong for Sam.
"C'mere and let's talk," Dean held his brother out at arm's length, "Tell me what's been going on with you."
Sam nodded and followed Dean into the main room. Dean sat down on the edge of his bed and Sam sat down on the other bed, facing his brother.
Before Sam spoke, he caught sight of the alarm clock on the nightstand. It read 2:51AM.
Author's Note:
I apologize for not writing much for the last few months. I've been struggling with feelings of sadness, guilt, loneliness, negativity etc. My sister, earlier this month, really noticed the changes and has pushed me to seek help. I will be seeing my doctor in a couple of weeks. Until then I am focusing on doing what I can, with my sister's encouragement, to try and ward off these feelings.
Thank you all so much for your patience and continued support. I am hopefully that very soon, I will be able to find the motivation to continue working on the stories that I know you're all waiting to read.
If you enjoyed this little fic, please leave a review.