Authors note: This was written for a prompt I received on my tumblr. Constructive criticism is welcome. I don't have a beta reader so please try to bear with me.
Dean realized it was bad again the day Sam collapsed in the middle of a hunt. One minute he and Sam were questioning the newest victim's wife and the next his baby brother was laying on the ground.
Dean stood there for a moment in shock before shouting Sam's name and dropping to his knees in front of him. The kid was conscious but looked disoriented, he was shaking like a leaf as he struggled to sit up. "Take it easy Sammy" Dean cautioned, helping his brother to his feet. He looked at Mrs. Tate and quickly muttered "We'll be in touch" and half dragged half carried his dazed little brother to the Impala.
"Mind telling me what the HELL that was?" Dean questioned the moment they started driving. He gripped the steering wheel tight, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer. He had a vivid memory of how things used to be and just hoped he was wrong. He didn't know if he could handle that again.
Sam just frowned. "I don't know, just got a bit light headed. I'm probably dehydrated or something." He gave Dean a reassuring smile "Don't worry."
"You collapsed Sammy, I'm going to fucking worry." Dean retorted, reaching into the back seat and grabbing a water bottle. He shoved it forcefully into his brothers lap. "Drink the entire thing."
"Ok, mom" Sam answered back in what was supposed to be a joking tone, Dean didn't laugh. Sam was clearly struggling to take the cap off of the stupid bottle. His hands were shaking which made it damn near impossible to twist the thing off. Dean took notice, but said nothing. He also noticed the way his little brothers collar bones were visible through his shirt. When did Sammy become so fucking slender? Better question, when was the last time the kid ate something?
Dean came close to saying something but thought better of it. He knew when to pick his battles and sitting in the car with his sick brother was not the time to start this one. He would wait until they got back to their motel room.
As a result of Dean's decision the ride back was silent. He didn't think he could make small talk without it turning into an argument.
Dean turned off the radio less than five minutes into the drive, he knew Sam didn't like the music he played and didn't want to make the kid feel worse. This entire situation reminded him too much of Sam's teenage years.
Dean began to internally beat himself up. How could be so blind? How could he have forgotten all the nights he used to beg Sammy to take care of himself? To eat. To sleep. To just fucking function. How could he have looked over the fact that Sam hadn't been eating? Was he so caught up in the fact that he finally had Sam back, that he overlooked something this fucking crucial? Dean wanted to throw up. He thought his little brother got over this years ago.
Dean pulled into the parking lot and got out. How was he going to deal with this? It was hard enough when they were kids, when Sam still looked up to his older brother. But now? They were practically strangers. How was he supposed to take care of the problem this time? Sam stumbled out of the Impala and Dean pretended not to notice. Tried to give his brother a little bit of dignity. They walked in room number twelve and Sam immediately flung himself onto the bed. Dean sighed. "Sammy, I'm going to grab some food at the diner for dinner. What do you want?"
"Dean, I'm not really all that hungry. Just bring back some coffee or something?" Sam asked hopefully, shoving his face into the pillow.
"We didn't have breakfast or lunch kiddo, and you collapsed earlier. You're eating something." Dean replied in a tone that was rarely heard from the hunter. It was firm, absolute but it was also very kind. Positively dripping with worry. It was a tone that was reserved only for Sammy.
"I'm not a kid, Dean." Sam replied, rolling over to his side.
Dean smirked; glad the nickname provoked a reaction out of his brother. "Just pick something so that I can go, I'm friggin starving"
"I don't care De, just whatever the soup of the day is" Sam responded in a tired, defeated voice that made Dean cringe.
"Alright Sam, you got it." The older Winchester frowned. Sam's reluctance to eat just confirmed his suspicions.
It took Dean less than fifteen minutes to go to the diner and order a double bacon cheeseburger for himself and a bowl of chicken noodle soup for Sam. Dean pulled into the motel parking lot for the third time that day and rested his head on the steering wheel, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Look, I'm probably stupid for doing this." He whispered "If you do exist you've never answered a single prayer ….not one. But I need Sammy to be ok. Please don't make him go through this again. He's suffered enough and I don't know if he…..Look, I'm begging you; just…help me this one time. Please" and with that, he took his takeout bag from the passenger seat and entered the motel.
It took Dean less than 45 seconds to realize his prayers hadn't been answered. He was greeted by a horrible retching noise followed by a sob. Dean set the bag down on the counter and winced. Sam was on his knees in the tiny bathroom, dry heaving. He went over to his little brother and rubbed gentle circles into his back. He took note that he could feel every notch of the kids spine, that Sam's shoulder blades protruded much more than they should. That his arms were nothing but skin and bone.
Dean knew from experience that when Sams stomach got too empty, he would throw up a bit of stomach acid. It was like his body protesting against the abuse. It was painful and it used to leave the kid too lightheaded to move for a while. So Dean just sat there, hoping his presence would be enough.
"Dean, you don't have to sit here" Sam panted. "Go eat your dinner"
"Not happening bitch" Dean answered right before another round of heaving began. Dean held back Sam's too long hair and waited for it to pass.
"It….hurts De" Sam sobbed, and pressed his face into his brothers chest. Dean didn't hesitate before wrapping his arms around the thin man. It was a testament to how much pain Sam was in when he didn't even reply with the usual "jerk". That alone damn near broke Deans heart.
"I know Sammy, but it's gonna be ok. You hear me? I'm going to make this ok, I swear."
"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry" Sam cried, tightening his grip on his older brother.
"Hey, look at me" Dean said, grabbing the his brothers shoulders. Sam reluctantly made eye contact with Dean. "You don't need to be sorry. This isn't your fault. You're sick. But you know what? I'm going to make it better. I promise."
Sam nodded, clinging on to his brothers words for dear life.
"You think you can get up?" Dean asked and Sam nodded again. With Deans help, Sam was on his feet and sitting at the small dining room table.
Dean grabbed the bowl of soup and popped it into the microwave to heat it up. There was a look of fear on Sams face when Dean finally placed the warm bowl in front of him.
"Eat it Sammy. It's gonna suck for a while, but you have to eat."
Sam reluctantly nodded and grabbed the spoon, playing with his food for a good ten minutes before Dean decided to intervene.
"C'mon Sammy, please. You don't have to finish the whole thing. Just a few bites." He begged. Sam closed his eyes and lifted a spoonful up to his mouth.
Dean knew it would be hard. That it was going to be worse this time around then it was before. But he also knew that they could beat this. Together they could do it. They had to.
Might turn this into my first chapter fic starting with Sam's pre-cannon struggles. Would anyone be interested in reading that?