Hey guys! This is my first fic so i hope you like it- It's a bit dark and there are mentions of self harm and abuse throughout so if that's triggering to you, please don't hurt yourself!

Leave comments! Comments are my best friend!

I don't own Sam and Dean. Yet. Kripke has them captive but im working on it

tootles.

The bathroom tile was cold on Sam's bare back as he laid sprawled out on the floor staring at the water stained drop ceiling of their shitty motel room bathroom. He could feel his shoulder blades digging into the hard linoleum surface as his rib cage painfully expanded and contracted back to normal. His back hurt. His legs hurt. Actually, all of Sam Winchester hurt. But he would never show it. Not to anyone. Winchesters didn't bitch about anything. They were the goddamn Winchesters for fucks sake. Sam kept this in mind as he forced himself up, propped on his elbows, then on to his feet with the help of the sink counter. He looked in the mirror and sighed, brushing his hair out of his face to reveal the damage done by the family's most recent outing. There was a medium depth gash at his right jawline, but with the acceptation of a few soon to be formed bruises right below his cheekbone, that seemed to be the worst of it. He opened the medicine cabinet and unscrewed the lid on a white plastic bottle of generic pain killers, pouring three into his hand and then swiftly into his mouth, swallowing them dry. He turned the bottle over in his palms for a few seconds before placing it back on the shelf of the medicine cabinet and swinging the mirrored door shut. Sam walked a few feet and started the shower.

Dean opened the motel mini fridge and crinkled his freckled nose, squinting his eyes as he pulled out the remaining contents of the fridge. There was some old Chinese takeout in a plastic bag of 'thank you's, as well as what was at one point a six pack of beer, now reduced to one solitary can. Dean opened the takeout box and immediately regretted doing so when the smell of rotten meat and something else that made him want to vomit smacked him in the face. He opened the trashcan with the foot pedal and threw the leftovers in, cracking open the beer as he did so.

"Sammy" said Dean between sips "We need to go shopping."

"Dad said he left an extra twenty under the mattress." called back Sam from the shower. "Said we could use it if we needed to."

Dean lifted up the mattress and sure enough, Sam wasn't lying.

"Whaddaya want?"

"Depends. Store or takeout?"

"Takeout duh I'm not cooking for your bitch ass" Dean cracked back.

"Umm… Isn't there a Chinese place a couple blocks from here?" Sam asked through the door. He turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel loosely around his waist. "I think I saw one on the way in."

"That'll work I'm fucking starving." Dean finished off the beer and crushed the can under his boot just for fun before tossing it in the trash. He rummaged through his duffle bag and pulled out his army green jacket, putting it over his shoulders as Sam opened the bathroom door and stepped out, hair wet and plastered to his forehead. Dean ran over to him and wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling him in for a quick, but nonetheless deep kiss. He looked at his younger brother and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he un-twined them. "Back in a jiff" said Dean with a mock salute, shutting the door behind him.

Sam dropped his towel and quickly got dressed, his body shivering from the shock of leaving the warmth of the shower to enter the icebox that was the rest of the room. He had no idea why Dean liked it so cold. After putting on his favorite sweatpants (they were fleece lined, super heavy duty, dean had "gotten" them for him last Christmas) and his crew neck St. Louis Cardinals sweatshirt they had picked up at a gas station in Missouri, he plopped onto the couch. His long legs couldn't exactly fit in the length of the couch, so he ended up dangling them over the arm rest, his shoulders pressed firmly into the pillow that lay against the opposite end of the sofa. He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned on the TV. He mindlessly flipped though the channels until he landed on a National Geographic documentary. He never really got to watch TV all that much- the luxury of it was not something that he was used to. He let out a deep, relaxed sigh and sank into the couch, enjoying the momentary bliss of doing nothing at all.

Sam eventually drifted off to a light sleep, which was cut short by a vibration in his pocket. He pulled out his phone, stretching his limbs as he did so. He looked at the screen which brightly showed the name "Dean" on the caller ID. Sam hit the button with his thumb and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hullo?" Sam slurred, still waking up from his nap.

"Sa-" Dean was cut off.

"Dean? Dean what is it?" Sam snapped back into alert mode, jolting upright from the couch. "Dean! Dean answer me what's going on?"

"Sammy I ca-" Dean swallowed and whispered, "Sammy, I can't ta- come here. Fast."

Sam managed to put in one more frantic "DEAN!" before the line dropped out. Sam threw on his jacket and shoes and ran out the door, heading towards the restaurant that Dean had gone to. Dean had taken the impala so Sam was on foot, but he didn't have to run very far before he saw it. Terror ripped through Sam as he raced to his brother. Or what's left of him.