Author's Note: Warning--swearing
Sam had been steadily drinking for a couple of hours now. The tears had long ago dried up. He was at a complete loss. How in the world was he supposed to help Dean when Dean wouldn't even come near him now? When he was little he would have asked Dean what to do. Hell a year or so ago he would have asked Dean what to do. He always had Dean there to help him through the tough stuff. Dean had never been an emotional person, but he always knew exactly what to say to make Sam see what was right in front of him, and right now he would have given his right arm for that advice.
"What do I do, Dean?" he said aloud. Dean heard him and he rested his head against the wall. "I don't know how to help you." He took a drink from the bottle of Jack. He laughed bitterly and looked down into the bottle. "For a whole year I was hell bent on keeping you out of hell." He chuckled again. "What a failure I was huh? Couldn't keep you out of hell. Nope. No sir re bubskie." Drink. Slosh. Back of the hand across the mouth.
"It took me a freaking week….a week….seven days….168 hours to get you out of hell." Drink. Look inside the bottle. Throw the empty container across the room. Pull the duffel closer and take a fresh one out of the bag. Crack it open. Drink.
"Now look at you. Huddled in the corner. Like a child afraid of a storm. It's been over a year now. I thought we'd be back to normal again. Fighting evil. Helping people." Drink. "We aren't even helping ourselves. Can't even get you to cut your hair. You used to look so cool. So, James Dean." Manic laugh. Drink. "Can't even get you in water without you flailing and screaming." Drink. "I missed you so much." Voice hitched. Drink. Try to get the lump out of his throat.
"I miss you right now. You are right there. On the other side of this God Damned wall!" Pound the wall. Throw head back against the wall. Scream wordlessly. "You are right here! You are right there and I can't even talk to you! I need to talk to you. I need you Dean!" Fist meets wall. Blood. Drink. "I need you to protect me because I suck at protecting you. I need you to protect you. I need you to talk to me. I fucking need you!" Sam started to cry again. "I'm sorry." He said and held himself tightly. "I'm so sorry Dean." He started rocking back and forth. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Sobs. A hand on his shoulder. Startled. Look up. Alcohol glazed eyes meet fear laced green ones.
Dean licked his lips. "Sammy." The small part of Dean, the Dean before the trip to hell was fighting for dominance. Fighting through the fear. Fighting through all of the damage. He didn't know how long he could hold on, but he was certain that it wouldn't be very long. "I'm here Sammy." His voice wasn't strong. Sam launched himself onto his brother and hugged him. Dean felt his hold slipping. Being held down was just too much. Too much. Chains. Meat hooks. Shackles. Demons. Heart being cut out of his chest. Blood. Organs. Organs in his mouth. Fear boiled over and he screamed.