Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or the characters thereof. This is just for fun.
Hi, everyone I am rewriting this fic, so please go back and check out the new first chapter.
Enjoy
Chapter 1
Sam was stunned, he didn't know what to say. There was no way that Dean could possibly do that, could he? Sam had known a girl in college who had been bulimic, it was a horrible affliction.
This could not be happening.
"But I brought Dean in because he got hit by a car."
"I understand that, but while we were examining your brother myself and several of the nursing staff noticed some signs that can be indicative of an eating disorder; scarring and lacerations to the back of his throat and fingers, erosion of the enamel on his back teeth. The blood workup we did also revealed a quite severe electrolyte imbalance and low potassium."
"...Our job's pretty physical, he was drunk when I brought him in, and he got hurt today, couldn't all that explain those things you said?"
"I'm sorry, they can't. I've called down a psychiatrist to see Dean; it should give us a better idea of how to proceed."
Sam was allowed back to see Dean while they were waiting for the psychiatrist. Dean had sobered up quite a bit, and the medical staff had cleaned and dressed his various injuries from the accident; they did a scan of his brain just to be safe, it was fine, he was sitting up on the hospital bed, chatting up a nurse.
Awkwardly, Sam announced his presence, "Heya Dean, you feeling better man?"
It took less than an hour before Dean tried to sign out against medical advice. The psychiatrist had been to see him, and Dean knew that the secret that he held so close had finally been found out.
He had to get out of there.
Sam tried to stop him, to no avail.
On their way out of the hospital, Sam was pulled aside by the doctor who had treated Dean. The doctor felt obligated to tell him the more frightening realities of the disease his brother was facing, "You need to be aware, Sam, if your brother continues to vomit so frequently he is at real risk of suffering complications. Bulimia puts a massive strain on the heart, amongst other organs, it can put the sufferers at risk of sudden cardiac death." The doctor handed Sam several pamphlets, "These are the names and numbers of several centres that treat people suffering from eating disorders. I know you want to help Dean, and when Dean is willing to accept help these services can help both of you."
Sam was prevented from having any further interaction, as Dean reached in the doorway, and yanked his brother away from the doctor. He didn't need anyone's help.
It was an cold, silent drive back to the motel, as neither brother was willing to break the silence. As Sam and Dean stepped into their room, Dean tried to go straight to bed, but Sam had other ideas. Though Sam knew that Dean needed to rest, he did have a concussion, dislocated shoulder and three cracked ribs, but that didn't worry him nearly as much as the idea of what Dean had been doing to himself for years behind everyone's backs, his included.
Sam blocked his brother's way to the bed, "Dean. You can't just ignore what happened tonight, we've got to talk man."
"Get out of my way, Sam."
Sam didn't move, he was determined to get answers. "Come on, Dean. After what happened, how can you think that we are not going to talk about this, Dean? How long has this been going on? Why are you hurting yourself?"
"Get out of my fucking way!" Dean shouted at his brother, as he turned on his heels, and stormed out. How dare Sam even try to talk about this! It's none of his business! He has no idea.
Growing up the way he had was never easy for Dean Winchester. Since his mother was murdered by a demon when he was just four years old, Dean had been on the road with his father, John, and baby brother, Sam, staying in the cheapest, least sanitary, most rundown place in town, as all their money would be spent by their father to buy supplies for the hunts he went on. When his father went on hunts, from the time Dean was five, he was left in motels with Sam, often, and often he would have to scrounge for food as his father seldom left them enough. His father was an obsessed bastard, though Dean couldn't see that past his unwavering support for the man, John was a drill sergeant to his boys, ordering them around, never showing them any compassion or care, unless they were bleeding to death, which happened too often. And then his brother abandoned him, after everything Dean had done for Sam, Sam left them, just so that he could go off to some college on the west coast, and be 'Joe college'.
And if Dean hadn't have found his saviour, he most likely wouldn't be alive.
The disorder became his protector from the world. When everything else in his world was going to hell, Dean had a 'friend' right there to help him through it.
That friend's name was bulimia nervosa.
The first time it happened, Dean was eleven, back then he didn't even know really why he did it, he didn't know that it had a name, and that it was a problem, he just couldn't cope, and it saved him.
Sam had broken his arm, he'd fallen at the playground, on Dean's watch of course; Sam and their father were still at the hospital, John had sent Dean home, but not before yelling at him, scolding him, saying that it was his fault that Sam was hurt.
Dean got inside, there were tears welling in his eyes, but he would not cry, it was a sign of weakness, that's what his father always told him, never cry. Dean went straight to the kitchen, and in a matter of minutes he had consumed almost the entire contents of the pantry and fridge, right there on the dirty kitchen floor, he lay there for a minute, when there was no food left, his stomach hurt, it felt impossibly full, that's when the compulsion hit Dean, gotta get rid of it.
It took a couple of tries, forcing his two of his fingers as far back in his throat as possible over the toilet, but at last he got it, as the half digested food poured out of his mouth, Dean felt a weight lift from his shoulders, by the time there was nothing left, he felt great, calm and honestly pleased with himself, quietly proud of what he'd achieved.
A couple of hours later Dean realised what he'd done, he realised how crazy it was, looking at the kitchen that was littered with food packaging, but held no food, he felt enormous guilt, and he swore that he'd never do it again. Then despite the by then late hour, Dean grabbed the small amount of money he had, and went out to the supermarket the replace the food, no one could ever know.
It was only two weeks before it happened again though, and so a vicious cycle began.
TBC...
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