Dean thanked the young cashier as she handed him his sack-full of purchases. Some crackers, anti-nausea medicine, and a bottle of Sprite, all for a sick little brother back at the motel. Even though he claimed to be fine, Dean had woke up to Sam puking up his guts this morning. And when Dean had helped him back to bed, after a lot of bitchy protests, he could feel that his brother was a little overly warm.
He pulls the impala into the parking lot of a small diner not too far away from their current motel and gets out. A bell dings as he walks inside. A middle-aged waitress smiles and greets him.
"What can I get you, darlin'?
"One special and some chicken noodle soup, to go please." He smiled pleasantly. She nodded as she walked away. A small television mounted on the wall caught his attention. Two commentators were talking about the defense team for the Kansas City Chiefs brought a smile to his face.
The smile vanished though when it cut back to the actual game and showed who they were playing, the Detroit Lions. Dean looked away, the thought of anything close to what he saw. After paying the bill, he thanked the waitress and got back in the car.
Dean's thoughts drifted to his brother again as he drove back to the motel. Sam had been acting strange ever since they decided to stick with each other. He had been more withdrawn. Dean had to practically force him to eat and sleep. He knows that there's something bothering Sam, but the dumbass just wouldn't open up.
Dean smirked at the thought. 'Used to couldn't be able to shut the kid up about feelings.' The smile fell from his face. He was worried about Sam. God knows the kid is beating himself up over letting Lucifer out. But Dean knew that Sam would never do anything drastic.
'Would he?' Worry started to blossom in his gut. 'Sam always has been over-dramatic.' Dean also knew that he was carrying around a lot more guilt on his shoulders than before. 'As if setting the devil free wasn't bad enough, he's supposed to house him too?' He frowned at the thought, and worry gave way to fear in the pit of his stomach.
The thought of suicide had even crossed his mind once or twice once he found out that it was him who broke the first seal. Who's to say it hasn't crossed Sam's? 'That's ridiculous.' Dean told himself. But just in case, he fished out his cell phone and dialed Sam's number.
To say he was a little freaked out when Sam's voicemail answered, was a bit of an understatement. Snapping his phone shut and throwing it on the seat, he pushed down harder on the accelerator.
The motel's empty parking lot came into view and Dean sighed a small breath of relief. It didn't really help ease the worry, but at least he was there now.
Slamming the car door shut, Dean did not run to the room. He may have had walked a little faster though. He unlocked the door and threw it open, calling for his brother.
"Sam?" He tried to keep the worry from his voice. "I'm back from the store. Got you some soup, too." Dean's eyes scanned the room, not finding his brother. The bathroom door was closed and the weapons duffle open on Sam's bed. His eyes narrowed at the sight and no answer from his brother.
"Sam? Answer me, man." Dean walked over to the duffle while he placed his groceries beside it. He felt like he had been punched in the gut when he realized that Sam's pistol wasn't in the bag, where it should be. The silence from the bathroom was deafening now.
"SAM!" Turning the knob proved useless. It was locked. He pounded on the bathroom door. "Sam, this isn't funny! Open up!" Dean didn't even bother to hide the fear in his voice. He put his ear up against the door, listening for any sounds of life. His ears picked up a muffled muttering, but he couldn't make out what Sam was saying. "What? You gotta open the door, Sam." He pleaded.
"Go away, Dean!" Sam's voice was still slightly off from the closed door, but Dean could make out what he was saying now. And he didn't like it one bit.
"I'm not going anywhere until you open this door."
His heart broke as he heard what had to be Sam choking back sobs. He tried again, with a much softer tone. "Sammy? Please talk to me. Tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours, man..."
"Just go away Dean. Your stuff is packed, just go. Get out of here."
"Why the hell would I leave you again? Just let me in, Sam. You gotta let me help you." Dean winced at the broken laughter from inside. It sounded more like sobbing.
"Help? You really think you can help me? I'm Lucifer's fucking vessel, Dean! There's no helping that! No matter what I do, he won't leave me alone!"
Another wave of fear washed over Dean. Not just because Sam was locked in a bathroom with a gun either. 'Lucifer's been bothering him?' That didn't make sense. Angels shouldn't be able to find them. "What are you talking about?"
"No matter how many times I try..." Dean's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He was almost afraid to ask what that could mean. 'Try what?'"He just keeps bringing me back." Sam's voice cracked, just like Dean's heart.
"Bringing you back from what, Sam?" Sam's only response was clicking off the safety of his gun. "SAM?" Dean panicked and started kicking at the door knob. The locks were weak and broke after two solid kicks. The door splintered and he pushed it aside, almost falling into the room. "SAMMY, STOP!"
Dean froze, his wide eyes locked on the gun under Sam's chin. Tears were falling down the kid's pale face. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the completely devastated and lost look in Sam's hazel eyes.
"I'm sorry..." Sam choked out.
Dean's cry was lost in the loud report of the gun. He flinched as blood spattered on his face. Sam's blood. He opened his eyes and almost threw up when he saw his brother's body on the ground, a gaping hole in place of his jawline.
He dropped to his knees, tears falling from his eyes. Sam was gone. Dean hadn't been able to save him from the one thing he needed to be saved from right now. Himself.
"Sammy..." When Dean closed his eyes, he swore he was back in that night at Cold Oak. 'No, worse.' This time, there was no Jake or Yellow Eyes to blame for this. Only himself. 'I should have made him talk to me. I shouldn't have left him alone!' His mind screamed at him. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't just sell his soul again, that's what got them into this whole mess in the first place.
A groan stopped his thoughts and froze him in place. He dared to look up at Sam's face and was shocked. Sam was sitting up, breathing, covered in blood, but no hole in his face. "Sam?" His voice barely above a whisper.
A confused look crossed Sam's face, then realization dawned and he grit his teeth and let out a curse as he punched the wall beside him. "Why won't you just let me die already?!" Pure anger burned in his eyes and he started punching the wall repeatedly, cracking both the cheap plaster and the skin and bones in his hand. "Just leave me the hell alone!" He bit out each word with another punch.
Hearing the wall break broke Dean free from his frozen position, and he sprung into action. He wrapped his arms around Sam, pinning his arms to his sides and pulling him away from the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he pushed the offending gun away with his foot. "Sammy, please, stop!"
Sam struggled weakly in his grasp. His weak protests gave way to heaving sobs and he let himself be comforted by his big brother. "He just won't let me die, Dean."
Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. Sam sounded like he was six years old again, telling Dean about the mean boys who wouldn't leave him alone. He cleared his throat and spoke in a voice, rough with emotion. "Who, Sammy? What are you talking about?"
"Lucifer... He won't let me die." Sam clenched his fists into the material of Dean's shirt. "I thought I could actually get it to stick this time..."
Dean's mind reeled with all the possible things that could mean. 'There's no way he means what I think he means...' He pushed his brother back to get a good look at him. The blood all over his neck and shirt was very disturbing, but what really killed him was the broken, resigned look in Sam's eyes. "What do you mean 'this time'?"
Sam looked guilty then focused his gaze on his broken hand. "This-this isn't the first time I tried to..." He shrugged. "The first time was right before I came back with you. Tried slitting my wrists." Sad, hazel eyes stared at the unblemished skin of said wrists. "They didn't even scar. The second time, I tried pills. But I just threw those up this morning." He looked back into his brother's wide, misty eyes. "He just won't leave me alone, Dean. He keeps bringing me back to life. I can't do this. I won't be his vessel, I won't!"
Dean couldn't speak. What the hell was he supposed to say? What do you say to that?
"Good. I'm glad the son of a bitch keeps bringing you back." He let the anger he felt for being helpless cover the concern. "You can't do this, Sammy. Killing yourself..." Dean shook his head."That's not the answer. You can beat this! You don't have to be his vessel, Sam!"
"But Dean-"
"No! You shut your damned mouth, okay? I don't want to hear it." He let go of Sam and got up, walked to where the gun was on the floor and picked it up, emptying it's clip.
"But if I'm dead, I can't say 'yes'. God knows I deserve it after what I've done..." Sam made no move to get off the floor. Dean walked out into the main room and retrieved the first aid kit. He set the kit on the counter and nudged Sam with his foot to get up.
"But you have to be alive to say 'no', dumbass." He sat Sam down on the side of the tub and frowned at his hand. "Looks like it's broken. Which means a hospital visit is needed. No, it needs a cast, Sam. End of discussion." Dean cut him off before he could even protest. "Come on, let's go." He started pushing Sam out the door. As an after thought, he added, "Those pills you took... Think they're out of your system? Just in case the hospital finds out..."
Dean almost didn't hear him. "Yeah, they're gone."
"Good, let's go then. And when we get back," Dean waited for Sam to look at him, "You and me are going to have a little chat about what just happened. Because you can't do that to me, man." He grabbed the keys and opened the door, ushering Sam ahead of him.
"I'm sorry, Dean. I just don't know what to do anymore..." Sam sounded so lost and it twisted his heart to hear that much pain in his little brother's voice.
Dean squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, but left his hand there afterwards. "That's what I'm here for, little brother."
'That's what I'm here for.' He reiterated in his mind as he steered the car towards the clinic just inside of town.