Every passing minute felt like an hour and when the doctor finally came out, Sam almost jumped at him.
"How is he? Is he alive?" he asked frantically, his eyes wild. Sam clutched at the doctor's coat, silently begging for an answer.
"Yes, he's alive," the doctor said, prying Sam off his coat "But, unfortunately, he is in a coma for the time being. His stomach and throat are damaged from all the alcohol and vomit. We're still pumping his stomach and-"
"But can I see him?"
"Yes, but you must know-"
Sam rushed off to the hospital room before the doctor got a chance to finish his last sentence and was shocked by what he saw on the other side of the door.
Dean, his older brother, the strong one, the one who always seemed to be fine, now lay before his little brother in a fragile state.
His skin was pale, almost white, which only made the dark circles under his eyes more apparent.
A tube was connected to his stomach, pumping out all the toxins that resided in it.
And the most frightening of all was the large amount of gauze used to cover Dean's forearm. There was most definitely stitches underneath, and even then, there were still small spots of blood staining the white bandages.
His face was contorted into one of discomfort, as though his coma induced dreams were that of nightmarish beasts, but Sam only saw defeat.
It was the only thing, as far as Sam was concerned, that Dean had not experienced. No matter how many times he was beat down, Dean was always ready to pop back up and keep going.
Now, in his brother's darkest hour, Sam knew Dean was finally finished. He was not going to pop back up this time and he sure as hell was not going to keep going. And that killed Sam inside.
*************
It had been about six months after the excessive drinking had began and Sam had tried to get Dean to stop.
He had hidden the alcohol and barred Dean from going to bars and even went as far as two handcuff him to a bed post, but Dean always managed to get more alcohol.
Finally, Sam put his foot down and told Dean that he would have no more of this destructive behavior. In that moment, a little bit of the old Dean came back. He looked up at his younger brother with a smile and nodded decidedly before dumping his tequila down the drain of a hotel sink.
But Sam should've known it was all just a front. He would occasionally go to the laundromat to do their laundry and would often find switchblades and pocket knives in his brother's pocket. He would just push any concerns he had aside though; they were hunters after all and knives weren't uncommon to them.
Eventually Dean got lazy and Sam would discover the knives with a thin trail of blood along the blade.
At this point, Sam became a little frantic, considering Dean wouldn't have any use of the knife on their current hunting trip. And he knew, in the very back of his mind, he knew what Dean was doing, but he refused to admit it to himself.
But when they were in Arizona and Dean was wearing long sleeves in ninety degree weather, it became extremely apparent to him.
The next time that Sam and Dean were alone in the hotel room together, they sat down to talk about exactly what this all meant.
Sam pulled one of the knives out of his pocket and opened it to reveal the blade who's edge was coated with brown, oxidized blood.
Dean bit his lip, obviously becoming nervous, but still tried to play it cool.
"Dean, can you please explain this to me?" Sam asked calmly, trying not to lose it and have a complete mental breakdown.
"Sam, it's a knife with blood on it. I've seen scarier things in a high school locker room," Dean chuckled, not taking things as seriously as they should be.
"Yes Dean, but how did it get there?" Sam brought the knife closer to Dean, who began to sweat a little under the pressure.
"We're hunters dude, vampires and demons and all that crap, we're constantly around blood."
"Yes Dean, but I did not see you use it once against anything on any of our trips. Listen, I don't want to intrude on your private life, we all have our secrets, but if you're doing this to yourself, you really need to tell me. You're my brother and I love-"
Dean groaned, cutting Sam off. "Oh please, quit it with the chick flick moment." He laughed good-naturedly and began getting up, but Sam made him sit back down.
"Dean, this is serious. I don't want you to end up dead, this is really bad and I-"
"Quit it with the goddamn chick flick moments. I told you once and I'll tell you again, I'm fine!" He stormed off and this time, Sam didn't stop him.
