Chapter Two

"How have you been, Sammy?" Dean asked when he sat down at the visitors table in front of his little brother. John had also come along, though was standing back and allowing the brothers to have some time together before he intervened.

"I've been okay," Sam answered. "I gained a little bit of weight."

"That's awesome," Dean said with a big grin. "You need the weight, you're starting to finally grow."

"I'm still pretty short," Sam commented.

"Well, not for long," Dean told him. "You're gonna sprout like a fucking tree, and you'll be taller than me - I promise." Sam smiled genuinely for the first time since he had arrived.

"I miss you, Dee."

"I know, kiddo," Dean said. "But it's okay. Once you gain some more weight and keep going through your therapy, then you can come home."

"That's what you say every time you visit me," Sam said.

"You've only been here a month," Dean told him. "You've still got some recovery to go through." John finally walked closer and sat beside Dean, also facing Sam.

"Hey, Sammy," John greeted. Sam forced a small smile at his father.

"Hi, dad..." he trailed off.

"The doctor told me you gained four pounds," John said. "Said you can quit the feeding tube and IV time if you get up to 100." Sam grimaced. "Sam, you know you're too skinny."

"I know that's what you guys keep telling me," Sam said.

"Sammy, you're skinny, dude," Dean said. "You're eighty pounds..."

"I'm eighty four now," Sam told them. "I gained weight, I'm working on my problems."

"We know you are, Sammy," John said. "And we'll continue to support you as you keep gaining weight until you're normal."

"Uh huh." Sam didn't speak again, so John sighed.

"If you're gonna be that way, I'll leave." John stood, walking away as Sam did nothing to stop him. Dean sighed in an identical fashion to John's.

"Sammy..." the older brother trailed of. He hated it when Sam and John fought.

"Dean, it's really hard to do this," Sam said. "It's really hard to watch myself gain weight when I can't do it..."

"Listen to me," Dean said. He waited for Sam to make eye contact. "You can do this. You can get better, because if you don't, you're going to die."

"Dean-"

"Listen," Dean interrupted. "You can get through this. You're going to be a healthy kid again. You're gonna go play soccer with your friends, and I'm gonna get to watch you graduate from high school and college, understand?"

Sam nodded; silent.

"I am scared for you, Sammy," Dean admitted. "You're what keeps this family together."

"That's not true," Sam said. "That's what you do. You stop dad and me from fighting all the time."

"No, you don't understand." Dean laughed dryly. "After mom died, you were what held us together. Dad nearly fell apart. You were the last gift mom gave to him. So he wants to protect you."

"You want to protect me too," Sam mentioned.

"Damn right I do," Dean confirmed. "But I can't protect you from this disease. Only you can do that, buddy."

"But how do I do that when I can't even get myself to eat?" Sam asked. His big brother always knew whatever he needed to do.

"Honestly, Sammy?" Dean sighed. "I don't know."


"Here's lunch, Sam," the nurse said, placing a plate of food in front of the fourteen year old boy. "Try to eat as much as you can before your time is up." She then walked away.

Sam sighed, picking at the food at first. There were several rules to meal time, and that was that it ended at the same time for everyone, no matter if you were done or not, and you couldn't talk about weight, calories, or go to the bathroom for obvious reasons. Bathroom breaks were usually monitored anyway.

After picking at his food for a solid three minutes, Sam began to cut it up into small pieces. The hospital didn't allow them to have knives, but they were allowed to have forks, which was good enough. Sam took small nibbles of the food and drank the entire glass of water in front of him.

The food hall always made their trays containing all the food groups and two drinks. Sam hardly ever ate the whole thing. He also knew from experience that the nurses wouldn't force him to eat unless his life was in danger.

"You should eat," said the girl sitting in front of Sam. While the youngest Winchester was an idiot, he wasn't stupid, and could clearly see that the other patients were girls. The doctors had assured him boys had this condition as well, though explained that since there was more of a negative stigma around boys having it, they wouldn't come in if they wanted the help, and people didn't often notice. Sam was the 'lucky' match that had his family notice his behaviors.

At first, they didn't notice his eating. Sam could get to bed with only two bites in him from the entire day and no one would notice a thing out of the ordinary. Before he was like this, he would eat cookies, candy, pizza, and lots of burgers; just like his big brother. Though, when the illness had begun to rear its ugly head into Sam's life, his enjoyment for food slipped away from him as the weight did off of his skin. Suddenly Sam went from being a healthy 120 at his five foot frame to an unhealthy 100 and finally, he hit his goal weight, 80 pounds.

Sam was so proud of himself for getting to his goal weight, and had even wrote it down in one of his notebooks for school. He kept track of all his weight loss in the back of it; since it was an English book, he hardly ever used it.

One day, Sam had fainted during gym class and was rushed to the nurse's office. It was revealed there that he was dangerously underweight. At first, the principal was contacted and thought the Winchester boys were both being abused and starved by their father. Eventually Sam's disorder came out after an emergency hospital visit. Anorexia Nervosa.

Sam was committed into the hospital and at first had been fed through a tube, though had finally graduated from it when he built up more strength. The doctors trusted him to eat on his own now. Sam wasn't sure he could.

The bell rang, announcing lunch was over. Sam was glad to get out of there with only a few nibbles of food in him and a glass of water.

Immediately after lunch, they were allowed to wander. There was a day room with all sorts of activities in it, and the group therapy room. Sam hated going there because they would often talk about things he didn't like hearing or talking about.

Sam sighed and walked to the dayroom. He liked to practice math problems so he wouldn't fall behind, and the doctors said if he didn't get up to 100 pounds soon, he would be placed in a special program that continued schooling in the hospital.

When he reached the dayroom, Sam got out his notebook from his assigned cubby and began to practice math problems. He would make them up in his head and solve them, though it seemed too easy for him. Sam finally walked over to one of the nurses at the nursing station with his notebook.

"Yes, Sam?" the nurse asked. Sam placed his notebook in front of her.

"Since you're a nurse you must be really smart..." he trailed off. "Could you...could you write a hard math problem that you know the answer to in my notebook?" he asked. The nurse blinked before smiling a little.

"I can try," she said. Taking the notebook, the nurse began to write math problems in it. She wrote four of them before sending him back to solve them.

"Thanks," Sam said. He walked back to the day room to solve them.

Next Update: June 14th, 2015