Chapter 4;

Neither Bobby nor Dean had ever seen Sam this way, and it was killing them slowly. Bobby exited Sam's quarters in a zombie-like fashion. His hands were at his sides, swaying with his walking. His feet moved forward hastily; his eyes faced forward, but didn't seem to focus on anything. Sam truly left him dumbfounded. Sam truly left him concerned. Sam left him feeling helpless. In the back of Bobby's mind he knew that there was nothing he could really do for the youngest Winchester. If anyone, it was Dean. But there was an invisible wall between the two brothers right now that gave the house a tension-filled atmosphere. Bobby hated that. Whenever he was with the boys, he hoped to feel unified and unbreakable. But now, each one of them felt broken. Bobby wasn't sure if they had enough pieces to put themselves back together again.

Bobby was at a loss. Nothing that he and Dean did for Sam seemed to help. If they left him food, he won't eat. If they leave him water, he'll barely drink it. And now he won't talk? This was getting out of hand. What else could they do? They can't force feed him- well they could, but Bobby was sure Dean would be against that. And there's no way to make him talk.

Dean waited upstairs while Bobby tried to get arise out of Sam downstairs. Deep down, Dean knew whatever Bobby was trying wasn't going to work. But he hated to have a negative attitude toward Sam getting better; because he did want him to get better. He wanted Sam to get better more than anything in the world right now. But he had to be rational with himself. If Sam was ever going to start making progress, Dean and Bobby were going to start having more will power when it came to him. And believe that going against Sam was the hardest thing to do. He'd look at you with those eyes, you know the eyes, and then he'd say something that you can't disagree with. Then you're whole game plan is ruined, just like that.

Dean smiled slightly and sort of shrugged.

Sam's got they type of effect on people.

A few minutes later, Bobby heads up the stairs to find Dean in the kitchen. He was sitting at the table with one hand covering his mouth, while he looked deep in thought. His eyes were fixed on the table in front of him. Bobby cleared his throat, getting his attention. When Dean finally ripped his eyes from the tabletop and onto Bobby's upset and disappointed ones, he sighed a little. Something was wrong. Is it even possible for things to get even worse than they are right now? Dean braced himself for what he was about to hear and prayed that it wasn't too bad.

"What's the verdict?" he asks softly with a lift of his hand. Bobby shakes his head and takes a seat at the table across from him. He, too, rests his hands on the table.

Bobby shrugs. "I don's know what's up with him?"

"What happened?" Dean asks, getting more and more curious.

"I don't know. He's not saying anything. Not anything at all."

Dean felt his eye brows raise then drop quickly.

"So when you went down there, what was he doing?"

Bobby looked away briefly and again shrugged his shoulders. "I opened the door and he didn't even look to see who was coming in. I put the food on the table, but it was pretty much useless. He's not eating either," Bobby informed. Dean rolled his eyes, but let Bobby continue. "So then I went and sat on the side of the bed. he was in the middle of it, wrapped up like a little kid with his head down. I called his name, you know, tried to get his attention, but it didn't do anything. But I was pretty sure he could hear me, though. I mean, why wouldn't he? So I talked to him. Let him know that we want him to get better and we'll do anything we have to to make sure he does. And I told him that you love him and you'll be down to see him when you're ready."

Dean looked away. Now he felt badly. It isn't that he hasn't been down to see Sam, of course he has. But suddenly everything that he's done had gone out the window. Suddenly everything he'd done for Sam wasn't significant enough. Suddenly Dean was irrelevant. He was nothing, especially when Sam getting better was the subject. Dean felt helpless. And all of this emotion was triggered by simply hearing that Sam wasn't talking. Dean sighed. He had to do something. He had to. Something. Anything. Dean jumped up from the table and began to pace a little. With each move, he felt Bobby's eyes following him curiously, probably wondering what suddenly got into him. Dean made eye contact with Bobby and he seen the wonder in his eyes.

Without a word, Dean brushed past Bobby and down to where Sam was. If anyone could get through to Sam, it was Dean. He had to be.

-*Insane*-

His head hurt. Pounding in synchronization with his rapid heartbeat. He took in a deep breath, expanding his enclosed chest as much as it would go. It felt good, actually. It felt good to take in a breath of clean fresh air. His eyes remained closed. He feared that if he opened them and took a look around the room, they'd begin to burn. Last time, the light was so powerful in the low lit room that his eyes began to water, making tear trails down the sides of his face like a painting. He closed them slowly, wiping his eyeballs clean of the burning sensation. He remembered the relief he felt once his eyes were closed. It was like he was in a completely different world. A world that had peace. A world that allowed his body to relax and rest for a while. And up until now, he was pretty well rested. But now, his head splitting headache was back, just like he knew it would.

He unfastened his arms from around his legs and pressed his index and middle fingers to his temples and rubbed. It didn't help. He knew it wouldn't. But someway, it soothed him.

Minutes passed and he was able to hear the heavy door being pushed open. There was light footsteps coming toward him. Sam didn't even bother to look. It was Dean, he could feel it.

"What's this I hear about you not talking? " Dean's voice broke through the silence Sam's ears had become accustom to. The noise hurt his eardrums. He winced a little, but didn't dare to pick his head up. A second later he felt a weight, a presence on the side of him. Dean was sitting on the side of the bed almost directly where Bobby had been earlier. Sam let his hands slowly fall down from his head and he sighed on the inside. He didn't want to make this harder on Dean than it already is, but something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong with Sam and he wasn't sure how to say it. Lately, Sam found it best that he keep quiet.

Sam felt a hand touch his naked back. He flinched a little and Dean froze for a second.

"Sam, you've got to say something..."

Silence.

Dean silence.

Dean took hold of Sam's upper arm and pulled it a little. Not hard enough to hurt him, but certainly enough to get his attention. Dean expected Sam's head to pop up and for him to pull his hand away, but Sam just sat there like he didn't feel it at all. Dean sat there for a moment, almost dumbfounded, but he quickly moved on to a more gentler approach.

"Sammy," he says in a calm voice. "You've gotta snap out of whatever the hell you're in, okay? What you're going through right now is the closest you'll ever get to hell, I know, but you can't just give up like this. You can't. I won't allow it."

Dean studied Sam's still form, waiting and hoping for him to react in someway. But he didn't. Sam's bowed head and unsteady breathing was Dean's only reply.

Again, Dean pulled on Sam's arm.

"C'mon Sam, you've gotta say something," Dean pointed to the uneaten food to the left of them. "Look at this! You're not eating you're barely drinking and now you're not talking?" Dean shook his head. "We're not kids anymore, Sammy. The silent treatment isn't gonna work as good as it used to."

Still, despite Dean's words, Sam stayed silent.

Dean sighed.

Seconds later, he was retracting his words.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Dean says softly. "It's just- - I'm chasing my own tail here. It's like nothing I do is enough. I'm running out of things to do to help you. Isn't that sad? I don't even know how to help you anymore. Do you know how much that hurts for me to say?"

Dean rubbed his hand across his forehead.

He waited for Sam to respond.

He waited for Sam to say something, anything.

And almost to his surprise, Sam's head lifted and he looked over at Dean. His eyes were glassy and soft. He looked sad. Then in the softest voice you've ever heard he said "I'm sorry."

Sam's stood. His tall body slaying a little with uneasiness. Dean watched him carefully but didn't bother to stop him. Sam traveled as briskly as he could on to the furthest side of the room from Dean and took a seat, destroying all connection they've had. Dean sighed, but he understood.

The fact was: Sam just wanted to be left alone, but Dean wasn't sure how long he could grant him that wish.

*-Insane-*

Dean walked back upstairs, feeling defeated.

"Any luck?" Bobby asked, pouring himself a glass of water.

Dean shook his head but didn't answer.

Bobby put the glass down and walked over to Dean.

"Hey," he says softly. "You okay?"

Again, Dean shook his head and wiped his eye.

"I will be when Sam's gets better..."

A few announcements : As you've probably noticed, I've had a name change. I was 'VFCGurl' now I am 'Devil917'. Yeah, I know it was sudden and unannounced, but it wasn't my choice. I had to change it. But it's all said and done so it doesn't matter, right? Right? Right.

Next, I feel like this chapter is shit. Like, I don't know. But maybe it's okay and I'm just being a loser? Either way, please tell me what you think. I'd really appreciate it. I know you hear this every story you read, but reviews really do keep me motivated [:

Thanks for reviewing. Hope to see you here again next chapter.