Note: Set shortly after the season 4 finale (4x22 Lucifer Rising). Not crucial information, just an fyi.
It didn't happen a lot.
It hardly ever happened at all.
But when it did occur, it was bad.
Really fucking bad.
It was back pain, but not just an ache or soreness, not even a normal level of discomfort.
It was an agonizing, debilitating type of pain.
The first time Sam experienced it was a couple weeks after that bastard Jake stabbed him. It had been so bad that the independent, strong, young man was reduced to tears. I had immediately taken him to the hospital, the same place I took him the next three times it happened.
The doctors would do some tests and ask some questions. They'd always ask if he had been injured in the same spot from which the pain was radiating and every damn time I had to tell them what had happened. I had to explain that my kid brother had been stabbed in the back. Obviously I left out the part about him dying and returning to life again, but just telling half of that story tore me apart. At the end of it all, every doctor gave us the same useless verdict, chronic pain. They would prescribe medication, which never did a bloody thing, and then tell us there was nothing more to be done.
And they weren't kidding.
No matter what I tried, I could never find an answer.
I could never find a way to make the pain go away.
No form of medicine, no matter how strong, ever made any difference. I had tried heating packs, cooling packs, sticking the kid in hot baths, and getting him wasted. Hell, I even attempted some of that new-age crap. I took Sam to get massages and have someone stick him with needles, acupuncture is what that was called I think.
Nothing worked.
No matter what, once the pain hit, Sam was left immobile on the bed doing his best to keep from sobbing.
Even worse, there was no predicting when the crippling agony would arrive. Sometimes it would make an appearance after a particularly strenuous hunt, but not always.
For example today - a regular day - like all the others, I woke up and looked to my left to see my little brother still occupying his bed.
That was alarm number one.
Sam was a morning person, always up at the crack of dawn. When he was a kid he was up watching cartoons hours before school, as a teenager he was up with the sun to read and study, and as an adult he was up researching and grabbing breakfast long before the birds were chirping.
So this morning, when I realized he was still asleep, I immediately knew that something was going on.
I climbed from the bed and approached the lanky body, going around the other side to get a look at my brother's face, not that I could really see it past that ridiculous hair.
"Sam?" I asked. His eyes were closed, but his breathing pattern told me he was awake.
Or at least I hoped that it did.
After my time in hell I was starting to question my ability to read my little brother as well as I used to.
Apparently, my big brother radar wasn't totally out of whack, because Sam sent me a muffled "Yeah?"
"You good, man?" I questioned casually.
"Fine. Just tired." He grumbled.
I thought he was lying, but I let it go.
After I showered and returned with breakfast to find the sasquatch still sleeping, I put my foot down.
"Come on, Sam. Shake a leg."
My only response was a flinch at the sound of my voice, or perhaps the volume of it.
"Seriously, man. We've got a hunt waiting for us a couple states over, we need to get moving."
My brother gave me no reaction and my patience dissipated.
"Sam! Get your ass up!" I hollered, ripping the blanket back and glaring down at the man beneath it.
It was then that his eyes finally opened and two hazel orbs stared up at me, glistening with unshed tears.
"Whoah dude, what's going on?"
My mood changed instantly from anger to concern as I crouched down beside my little brother's bed.
He just kept staring at me with those big puppy dog eyes. The same way he used to as a child when he needed me to fix everything.
"Talk to me, Sam." I ordered. I had never been good when it came to not knowing what was wrong with my brother.
How could I possibly fix it when I didn't know what it was?
"My back." Sam all but whispered.
Everything fell into place, the watery eyes, the lack of movement, the minimal responses, all the signs of anguish had been there; and I had fucking missed them.
"Shit." I cursed.
How could I not have figured that out?
I was at a loss, not only was there nothing I could do to make Sam better, but I was no longer sure I knew how to play the role of nursemaid. I had been in hell for too long, I wasn't sure I still had that gentle side to me.
I mean, sure I had to patch Sam up a few times since being back. But that was all simple doctoring.
The back pain situation wasn't just about medical necessity, it required comforting and coddling.
It required mothering.
I used to be pretty good at – not that I would ever admit that aloud – but it came with raising a kid, especially one as sensitive and big-hearted as Sam.
But I was pretty sure that hell had torn the mothering gene right out of me.
I stood from where I had been crouched, pulling the comforter back up and over my little brother as I thought of what else I should do.
I thought back to the other times I had helped Sam through this. I would bring him water, and help him to the bathroom when necessary; I would try and convince him to eat food and put him on as many painkillers as possible. I'd massage the tension from his neck and back muscles that always ended up corded in agony. Sometimes I would just sit with him and watch tv, and there was one occasion in the past where I read to Sam, to try and get his mind off the pain.
But we had been closer then. Things were different now, Sam and I were just starting to get back into the swing of things. There was a lot of crap we hadn't dealt with, a lot of shit between us that wasn't fixed.
A lot of fights and arguments that had been going on lately.
A demon blood addiction.
And – most recently – the damn apocalypse.
"You need to take a leak or anything?" I asked my brother.
"No." Sam rasped, twitching in discomfort.
He would need some water, not the coffee I had brought him. There were cups and a sink in the motel room, but no straws, which – from experience – I knew would be needed if Sam was going to hydrate at all today.
"You need anything before I go out?" I double checked, creating a mental list in my head of the supplies required in order to better take care of my little brother.
"No. I'm okay." He lied as he closed his eyes and turned his head in the other direction.
"Alright." I declared, placing Sam's cell within arm's reach, in case he needed to call me, before heading out the door.
It took me about an hour to find everything I needed. I grabbed some simple food that would be easy for Sam to eat from a horizontal position and pain killers that probably wouldn't do a whole lot, a heating pack that might take some of the edge off, and last but not least, two Die Hard movies and a book.
When I re-entered the motel room I was shocked to see my little brother literally crawling across the floor.
Fucking crawling.
I felt my heart flip violently inside of my chest.
The sight was too desperate and too broken for me to handle.
"Sam. What the hell are you doing?"
He looked up at me, his startled expression barely visible past the pain lining his face.
I dropped the bags of supplies on the small table by the door and hurried toward the young man, who was now wheezing in agony. My hands hovered around his broad shoulders, as I tried to figure out a way to get the kid up off the ground without causing more harm.
"I'm just...I'm going to help you up." I announced, stooping down and sliding my palms underneath my brother's arms and carefully pulling him up.
"Gaah!" Sam cried out as he was tugged upright, his body convulsing at the movement.
"It's alright. You're fine. Just a few steps this way." I stated, angling him back to his bed, as I pulled his arm over my shoulder and gripped the rim of his jeans to better support his weight.
Sam was taking in stuttered breaths as he let me lead him.
"That's it buddy, almost there." I encouraged, feeling the tremors travel through the younger man's long body as he struggled to keep moving.
By the time I hoisted him up on the bed and rolled him back onto his stomach, Sam was gasping, choking through sobs as he burrowed into the mattress.
I stood helplessly watching my little brother shudder in agony.
There was so much distance between us now, after my time in hell, then the whole Ruby/demon-blood addiction issue, next thing we knew Lucifer was walking free. Suffice it to say that Sam and I hadn't had a lot of time to repair the damage to our relationship, if anything we were constantly inflicting more.
I pushed the thoughts aside and moved to grab a water-bottle and straw.
"Here." I said, placing the beverage in front of Sam and pointing the straw toward his lips the moment his breathing returned to normal.
He took several long sips before turning away.
"Is that what you were killing yourself trying to get?" I questioned, referring to the water I placed on the side table.
"I was thirsty." Sam replied simply, his legs twitching as he struggled to get comfortable, something we both knew wouldn't be happening for the rest of the day.
"You couldn't wait? I mean, what the hell man? You probably made your back a lot worse. If you had just waited two minutes I would have brought you some water. Instead you thought it would be a good idea to make the trek across the room on your hands and knees?" I pointed out, my concern coming across in anger, the way it often did these days.
"Didn't know you were coming back."
The whispered confession felt like a punch to the gut, it took the air right out of me.
How could Sam think that?
I know that we hadn't been on great terms for the past while, but I was still his brother, I still cared about the moron. I wouldn't just leave him crippled in the motel room to rot.
Except I did leave him in a panic room to rot.
I shoved the thought away.
"Well, I did. So keep your ass in bed." I ordered gruffly.
The shaggy head moved up and down minutely in a sign of obedience.
I nodded, satisfied that he would stay put and went to unpack the groceries.
I put all the food away in the kitchenette cupboards and small fridge, knowing from experience that Sam wouldn't be up to eating for a while, probably not until I forced him to anyway.
I placed the heating pack in the archaic microwave and warmed it up as I dumped a couple of pain meds in my palm.
I made my way back over to Sam, grimacing in sympathy as I watched his body trembling in agony while he fisted the bed sheet.
"Here. Take this." I instructed gently.
Sam cracked an eye open to glance up at me, his expression the epitome of misery.
He slowly forced his right hand to release its death-grip on the bedding and took the pills presented to him, popping them into his mouth and taking a small sip of the water I held in front of him.
"Thanks." Sam rasped as he re-gripped the sheet beneath him.
His breathing was heavy and shaky, telling me all I needed to know about the degree of pain he was in.
I returned the water to the side-table and hurried over to the microwave as its timer rang.
I pulled out the newly-heated pack and returned to the bed.
"I'm going to put some heat on your back, Sam. Alright?"
My brother automatically tensed at the announcement, his long body going even more rigid in fear of additional anguish.
"It has helped before. We'll just try it, okay? If it's too much you tell me and I'll take it off. You okay with that?" I questioned.
I waited for the nod of agreement, not willing to do something Sam wasn't okay with, the kid had been tricked and manipulated into enough things lately. This was going to be his choice. And his choice alone.
My brother seemed to be considering the decision for a moment, before nodding his approval.
I pulled back the comforter and slid his shirt up.
I could see his muscles shuttering under his skin.
Shit, the pain was bad.
I went to place the heating pack on Sam's back, but stalled for a moment at the sight of that damn scar.
It was thin and pale, not nearly as big as the original injury, but still evidence of the gaping wound that had once been present. I glared accusingly at the mark left behind.
It wasn't fair that I had been raised from hell free of any and all scars, but when that bitch brought my little brother back to life, not only did she neglect to erase all of the visual damage, but the physical as well.
"Dean?" Sam croaked.
I snapped out of my dark thoughts at Sam's call and gently laid the heating pack down over the marred skin.
"Yeah?" I asked, as though I wasn't aware why my brother had said my name.
He hissed softly as the heat began to penetrate his skin. I placed my hand supportively on Sam's shoulder as he ground his face into the mattress, trying to escape the pain.
"Just give it a moment." I encouraged, utilizing a tone softer than I had used in a really long time, a tone I didn't know I was still capable of emitting.
Without thought I slid my hand under Sam's hair to the back of his neck and gently squeezed. The age-old gesture filled my heart with more love and protectiveness than I was ready for.
Sam sighed in relief as I proceeded to knead away the tense muscles in his neck and the heating pack began to bring a degree of soothing to his back.
Once my little brother seemed to be at least managing his pain, I pulled my hand away and pulled the blanket back up over the long body.
"You can go."
I almost missed the words, they were spoken so softly.
"What?" I questioned, staring down at Sam who pried open his eyes.
"To the hunt. You can go on the hunt." He explained, gazing up at me.
"It's three states south of here, Sam."
"I know, but you can go. I'd come if I could, but I can't. But you can still go"
I balked at the statement.
"Yeah sure, I'll just leave you to crawl around on the floor for a few days."
"I've managed before." He whispered, before closing his eyes and turning his face in the other direction.
I scowled at the new information. I had assumed Sam's back hadn't left him alone the entire time I was downstairs, but I hadn't thought about who had been there to look after him.
No one.
The kid had been completely on his own.
And there was no way that demonic bitch would have done anything to help him.
"Yeah well, I'm here. So you don't have to manage anymore." I declared gruffly.
I had thought that would settle the matter, but Sam opened his eyes again, pulling his head as far off the mattress as he could without escalating the agony in his back.
"Really, Dean, it's okay if you want to go do the hunt."
He looked so understanding and sounded so gentle, like he thought I wanted to leave and he was giving me permission.
"Sam. I'm not leaving you alone like this. What the hell would make you think that'd I'd just ditch you, especially at a time when you can't even drag your huge ass out of bed?" I questioned in frustration.
My brother's eyebrows rose, but he made no reply.
He didn't need to, I knew what he was thinking.
"Okay, you know what? Fine. I didn't think we'd have to have this conversation now, not while you're immobile, but apparently we do." I grumbled, dragging a chair over to the side of Sam's bed and dropping down into it so he didn't have to strain his neck up to look at me.
"I get it, alright? I left you in the panic room-
"Dean, it's okay, I understand."
"Well you shouldn't Sam. You shouldn't understand. I shouldn't have left you alone to suffer in that room."
"Dean, really you don't have to-
"Shut up, Sam. Please, just let me finish."
My little brother obediently closed his mouth, but his eyes continued to ooze empathy and understanding, none of which I deserved.
"It was a rotten thing to do. I just...I couldn't watch you fall apart man. I couldn't watch you screaming and hallucinating and convulsing and not be able to do a thing to help you. I couldn't watch you go through that. I wasn't strong enough. But you need to know that it wasn't easy for me. It killed me to just leave you in there...I just didn't know what else to do. I'm sorry." I finished tiredly.
Chick-flick moments were exhausting.
"Can I talk now?" Sam asked, a small smile diminishing some of the pain lines patterning his expression.
I nodded.
"I never blamed you for leaving me in there, Dean. I was out of my mind. You couldn't have done anything. It was messy and I never expected you to watch it."
Relief filled my body, more relief than I had expected to feel by Sam's understanding.
"Alright, well if that's true, then why the hell do you think I would be okay with leaving you now?" I questioned curiously.
The young man's face fell.
"I just...I get if you don't want to be around me right now, I know I'm not really your favorite person. So if you don't want to stay cooped up in a motel room playing nursemaid to me...I just...I get it." Sam stated timidly, keeping his gaze as far from mine as he could.
I sighed.
It's not like I could blame my little brother for thinking that way, I had made it pretty clear to him that I wasn't his biggest fan as of lately.
"Is this about what I said to you before...before Lilith?" I asked delicately.
A look of misery fell over my brother's features and I knew that it had nothing to do with the crippling pain in his spine.
I guess it was sort of hard to forget that your brother labelled you a monster.
As something to be hunted.
I had thought the phone message had cleared that up, but I was starting to think that Sam had never received it.
Actually, I was pretty damn positive the kid hadn't gotten my message.
Because there was no way that Sam listened to me pour my bloody heart out over the phone and then went ahead with Ruby.
Even addicted to demon-blood, I knew my little brother, better than I knew myself.
And there was no way that my Sammy would have done what he did if he had heard my message.
No way.
"Look Sam. I was angry and..."
Awe hell it was time for some honesty.
"And I was scared."
Sam's timid gaze drifted my way at the confession.
"I was terrified of what could happen to you. And I freaked out. I didn't mean what I said."
My brother looked uncertain, but hopeful all at once.
"I didn't mean it, Sammy." I promised softly.
Because I didn't. I couldn't believe I told my brother I would hunt him, and I had regretted the words the moment they fell from my mouth. The moment I had seen the hurt flood into my little brother's face as his watering eyes stared brokenly into mine.
Sam nodded hesitantly.
I wasn't convinced that he bought what I was saying, but I supposed somethings needed to be proven rather than stated.
"Fuuck." Sam suddenly gasped out, body ridged as he clenched onto the bedsheet.
Chick-flick moment forgotten, I abandoned the chair I had been seated in and crouched down next to the bed.
"What can I do, Sammy?" I questioned softly, my heart shattering for the younger man.
His long fingers released the bedsheet and latched onto the hand I had placed on the mattress.
The strength of his grip clearly exhibited Sam's degree of pain.
He peeked over at me, tears of agony streaming down his face.
"Just stay. Please?" He rasped, his voice pleading as though he were not entirely sure of what my answer would be.
"I'm not going anywhere, Sammy." I promised, gently coming the unruly brown hair off his face and gripping his hand back with, what I hoped to be, a reassuring degree of strength.
Relief chased its way across Sam's face, giving way to pain as he squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled sharply, his body shuddering as it failed to contain the agony coursing through it.
"I'm right here, buddy. I'm right here." I promised, pressing my forehead against his, a tear escaping and sliding down my own face as I listened to my brother's anguished whimpers.
A strangled sob tore from Sam's throat as the hand that had been trapped under him, came out and latched onto the front of my shirt, tugging me impossibly closer.
"I've got you, little brother. I've got you." I vowed, whispering it to him, as the hand that wasn't trapped in Sam's unyielding grip, travelled up to rest on the back of his head.
We both stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, and hands gripping hard to each other, waiting for flare of pain to subside.
Sam tried his best to breathe through the torment, even as his body convulsed in agony. I held onto my brother, pressing closer as though I had the ability to absorb every drop of his pain.
All the sudden that space that had felt like an ocean between us, dried right up.
I didn't care about anything Sam had done in the past, or any of the hurt or awkwardness that had crept its way into our relationship; all I cared about was my little brother.
Nothing else mattered.
Nothing else had ever mattered.
Sam being okay was all I ever wanted out of life, and I hated myself for forgetting, even for a moment.
Note: The last half will be up in the next couple of days. Hope you enjoyed it! Please comment/review if you have a moment, it motivates me to write faster. :) - Sam