Sugar Me Sweet

An AU set after In My Time Of Dying.

And no. They don't belong to me.

I fucking wish…

Dean heard his little brother's footsteps padding across the dusty yard and sighed.

This is just not happening.

I can't take anymore of this.

Raising his head he met Sam's gaze. This time, though, there was something in that gaze that disturbed him, but Dean really didn't have the time or the will power to deal with it. It was just Sam being Sam.

"Dean? We need to talk about something?..."

"Another time Sammy ok?" Dean dropped his head and slid back under the Impala.

In truth Dean just didn't have the strength to deal with Sam's issues right now. He was struggling with his father's death as it was. Not that Dean would admit it.

"I'm sorry Dean but this can't wait, there's something…."

"Well it's gonna have to Sam." His tone was sharper than he'd intended.

But that was it.

Sam was blocked out.

And both of them felt it.

Dean saw Sam's feet shift a little, then a softly muttered "ok", before the feet trudged off.

And the guilt set in.

John had been Sam's dad too.

And then it hit him.

Sam may have come out of the accident physically unscathed, but his little brother had witnessed too much.

Sam was the one that had to watch as Dean nearly died…

He found their father on the floor…

Shit.

It's no wonder the kid's a wreck.

Dean had been thinking about this for a while. And he still had no way of helping him.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to help anyone anymore.

Sam's just gonna have to help himself this time. But he's strong. He'll pull through.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam had been feeling unwell since the accident that had…well…claimed his dad's life. So he'd asked Bobby to take him into town under the guise of research at the library. By the look on Bobby's face he knew he was bullshiting. Instead of calling him on it, Bobby had just nodded and driven away. But Sam was sure of the grilling he'd get later.

After all, this was his sixth visit.

And he had lied about where he was really going.

And now, after all the tests, including a particularly sickly glucose tolerance test, now he was staring his diagnosis in the face.

Since when do you give a damn what dad wanted…

And now Sam was terrified.

He didn't want to face this alone and, as the doctor had told him, his family needed to know just in case.

But Dean was his only family.

Since when do you give a damn what dad wanted…

So he'd tried. But Dean didn't want anything to do with him right now.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Sam? Have you told your brother yet?" At his shaking head, Harriet Carpenter, MD, glanced at him ruefully. "We've talked about this. He needs to know."

Dr Carpenter had become a close friend since Sam had shown up in her clinic a few weeks ago, complaining of thirst, nausea, excess urinating, etc. and she'd performed a blood glucose test, which completed all the signs of a type 1 diabetic. In fact Sam had been damn lucky she hadn't admitted him right there and then, so high was his blood sugar.

Obviously it had come as a surprise, since Sam was in his early twenties, but it wasn't unheard of for a type 1 to develop after the teenage years waved 'good-bye'.

Doc Carpenter's best guess was that Sam had contracted a virus during his brief hospital stay after the accident, when his immune system had been at an all time low. And it had somehow attacked his pancreas. There was never a complete answer with these things and it often involved just plain bad luck.

"Yeah I know Harry but….he's just not in a good place right now. He doesn't need this crap on top of everything else." Was Sam's soft answer.

Harry leaned in against Sam's shoulder, companionably. "And you think him finding you lying on the floor in a DKA is a better way? Come on Sam…."

"Look I've already tried, but he just doesn't want anything to do with me." Sam dropped his gaze to the floor. "I remind him too much of what he's lost. And…he already thinks I'm a freak…"

Harry looked at him. "I'm pretty certain that aint true."

Sam raised weary eyes to his doctor. "It is. I think…" he huffed a little, finding the words painful. "I think he hates me…"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean had rushed to get to this job, too eager to get out into the field again, so Sam didn't have a chance to deal with his freaky problem as he'd come to think of it. After all, if his doctor was right then this had come about as a direct result of the accident.

And that was killing him.

He didn't want anyone to burst in on him 'shooting up'. So he didn't bother, thinking that they'd get back in time for his next dose of insulin.

Sam had endured his brother's short temper and even shorter rebuffs for weeks now; he knew Dean wouldn't talk, but Sam wasn't sure how much more he could take. He felt utterly miserable.

"Sam, what's goin on?" Bobby fixed the youngest Winchester with his best steely gaze.

"Nothin'" Sam replied as he checked his weapons for the next hunt.

Bobby couldn't help but stare. "You bullshiting me again?"

The look on Sam's face was blank. "Dunno what you mean."

Bobby nodded, anything but convinced. "Ok." You just keep on telling yourself that…

He continued to stare at Sam even as he quietly sat himself in the Impala. Bobby noted that Dean was also starting to get worried about his brother's behaviour by now, and about time too.

Sam was too quiet and sullen.

Bobby grabbed Dean's arm before he made a move towards the Impala.

"Dean. You gotta talk to Sam."

"Huh? " Dean looked at him, confusion colouring his gaze.

"Those times he went into town? To go to the library? The last time I dropped him off I stuck around for a while."

Dean waited almost impatiently. "So?" Dean was full of one word answers these days.

"He went to the health clinic. Something's wrong with that boy."

Dean paused. "I think ya reading something' into nothin'. Probably just part of geek-boy's research. He's fine."

But that little voice in his head told him differently… no he's not

So Dean did what he knew best. He avoided the subject save for one question.

"You ok dude?" He asked as he slid into the driver's seat.

Sam just nodded, content with keeping quiet. Dean shot him a concerned glance, but said nothing.

Frankly, Dean was happy with the silence and just left it at that though he kept a certain corner of his eye especially for his little brother.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Sam!"

Sam whirled in a second and the loud boom of the shot gun reverberated round the clearing.

The spirit dissipated then reappeared a second before Dean flicked open the lighter. Sam saw the damn thing aiming for his brother, and knew he wouldn't be able to reload the shot gun fast enough. So he launched himself at Dean, tackling him to the ground, snatched up the fallen lighter and dropped it into the grave.

The ghost let out a painful screech…and that was the end.

Dean rolled out from under Sam.

"Jeeze that was close huh?"

" Sam?"

Dean twisted his upper body. "Sam?"

His brother was lying on his side, unconscious.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam knew about five minutes before arriving at the forest that he'd made a mistake. He started to feel woozy and shaky, but tried his best to hide it, and apart from the odd concerned glance, he knew Dean hadn't noticed.

But the effort of pushing his brother to safety cleaned him out. As the energy swiftly left his body, he sunk into blessed oblivion.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Sam!" Dean was shaking his brother. "Sammy come on wake up. You did it ok? You got rid of him, ya did a good job. Sam!" He'd probably just hit his head on a tree stump or something.

Unbeknownst to Dean, Sam's blood sugar was rising to dangerous levels, ketones zinging round his body. Sam was already in the throes of a metabolic acidosis as his body struggled but failed to keep his glucose levels down.

"Sam come on, talk to me. What's wrong dude?" But Dean, having felt Sam's racing pulse, already had his cell phone out, calling the clinic in town.

"Yeah, my brother and I were out for a walk, but he collapsed and I can't wake him up." Dean shook his head at the next question. "No. He doesn't have any medical conditions. His name? Sam. Sam Winchester."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dr Carpenter was just leaving for the day when the phone rang. She sighed and reached over, snatching up the headset. Adjusting the earphones to her head (Judy you big headed freak, she thought of the office secretary with affection), she asked the caller what she could do for him.

A few questions later had Dr Carpenter yelling out "I'll be there in a few minutes" and running for the door.

The answer to her last question was still ringing in her ears.

No. He doesn't have any medical conditions. His name? Sam. Sam Winchester.

Oh shit.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Like this? Want me to keep writing?

Just let me know…

My apologies to anyone out there that knows more about diabetes mellitus than I do. This was just something I had roaming through my brain.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.