A/n: Tochi: Rather quick update, sorry for all my loyal readers who are still waiting for an update for my other stories, I'm stuck in the middle of a chapter on 10 Things and I'm stuck at the very beginning of Have You Seen My Brother? I'm hoping writing this will help me to get un-stuck
Disclaimer: Flap Jack: Nope, still don't own it
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Dean sighed as he turned the key and pushed the door open, walking inside and leaving the door open for his brother. Dean as usual set his bags down on the bed closest to the door, Sam closing it and sitting down on the other one.
Dean didn't know why his brother seemed so opposed to walking or running. He always seemed to be in some sort of pain while he was moving from point A to point B. What Dean didn't know, was why.
Dean didn't know nearly as much about his brother as he thought he did. He didn't know that Sam had more then one big secret he was keeping from him. Dean didn't know about the cutting. Dean didn't know about his brother's more than brotherly love for him. Dean just didn't know.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" Dean asked, re-shouldering his bag after he had removed his jacket and shirt, toeing off his boots and socks.
"Because nothing is wrong, Dean." Sam lied as he pushed himself to his feet, wincing as the rough denim slid across freshly cut skin. Yup, he'd resorted to using the gas station bathroom once he was really desperate for his release. Eight parallel lines cut across his thighs, four per leg.
"Quit lying to me Sam, why won't you just tell me?"
"Because, there is nothing wrong!" Sam was half yelling now, turning away from his brother so Sam didn't have to look at him in his half naked state.
"Would you just stop lying?" Dean sighed, shaking his head and brushing past Sam to get to the bathroom.
Once the door was closed and Sam heard the shower start he peeled off his shirt, switching it for a clean one before carefully peeling off his pants. Only two of his cuts were bothered by his jeans, the two lowest of all of them, just barely peeking out from beneath the soft cotton of his boxers.
He gingerly ran a finger over them, he'd just barely split them open, but it had been enough for a small release. He picked his jeans up from the bed, fishing out a small razor blade, seating himself on the edge of the bed. He slowly bore the cool metal down on the lowest cut on his left thigh. He smiled as he was greeted by the sharp rush of pain then slowly slid it along the length of the sure-to-be scar.
He smiled at the trail of blood that followed his blade, some sticking to the metal, but most bubbling up in a line some parts taking longer than others. While that cut was oozing blood, Sam tugged a bit at his boxers, pulling them up to reveal deeper cuts. He listened closely to the shower running, not wanting to be caught by his brother, that was the last thing he needed.
He pressed down on the upper most waiting until blood pushed up around the edges of the razor before he slowly slid it along, reopening the wound. This one bled up quick unlike the more shallow one he'd just attended. He grabbed the box of tissues and cleaned up the blood as it dripped to the side of his thigh.
He never interfered with the actual bleeding, only cleaned up what would stray away, or wash the blood off once it had clotted over. Sam never tried to stop it.
Once the bleeding has slowed so he wouldn't have to pay full attention to it, he replaced the razor on his right, pressing down on one of the middle ones, slicing the skin quickly on that one. He watched the two sides drift apart with mild interest, though it was like the same effect when you put a child in front of a TV when the blood appeared. He stared at it, his head tipping to one side and wiping the blood away as it slid to his inner thigh and threatened to drip onto the floor.
He wiped the blood away from his other thigh, dropping the tissue into the bed and grabbing another, wiping away one particular drop that had run down to the pit of his knee.
He would tell Dean his nose had started bleeding if he saw the tissues in the trash can. He'd probably believe that, but if he didn't, then Sam would be in trouble.
Sammy felt bad about lying to Dean. He'd never liked it when he was a kid and lied about eating the last cheap store bought cookie, but then lying to him when he was 23 about mutilating himself? That left a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He did it for Dean's own good. He lied about what he did to himself. He lied when Dean asked if he was alright. He just straight out lied to him. He just couldn't tell him, he couldn't tell his brother what he was doing. He knew his brother would want to help, but there was nothing Dean could do to help.
Dean just couldn't save Sam from himself Dean couldn't save Sam from Dean. He couldn't help Sammy this time. Dean just couldn't be the hero, he couldn't just save the day and be Super Man when he was the bad guy too.
Sam sighed and wiped the blood away again, the razor still pinched between the pad of his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger, the blade still twinged red with his blood. Sam knew he needed help. It was like he was addicted to the endorphin high he got when he cut himself.
He was addicted to the sight of his blood bubbling up and spilling over.
He was addicted to the smell of his blood.
He was addicted to the feel of his blood oozing down his thigh.
He was addicted to the pain of splitting his skin.
Sam was addicted to cutting.
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Dean leaned against the cool wall of the shower, letting the water beat down on his skin, starting at his waist and ending at his knees. He'd already washed himself off, but he just needed time to think, consider his options. He wanted to know what was up with Sammy.
He started going to a check list of all the signs that Sam was sending out. Withdrawn… very withdrawn… kind of like how he had been when he was fifteen and Dean… found out… he was… 'SHIT!' His mind screamed as he pushed himself off of the wall, not shutting off the water, grabbing a towel and winding it around his hips.
Why hadn't he thought of that? Sam had been doing it before!
Dean shook his head, glancing at himself in the bathroom mirror as he passed, pushing the door open.
Imagine his surprise and guilt when he found his brother sitting on his bed, back to him, bloody tissues piled onto the bed next to him. As Sam put the used one down Dean could also see the quick flash of metal.
He was right.
Sam was at it again.
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Sam could have sworn he heard the door open and close, but the shower was going. 'I'm just being paranoid' Sam reassured himself, pressing the blade in for another go around.
"Ahem."
Sam almost jumped out of his skin.
Dean walked into Sam's line of vision, razor still pressed against the skin.
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A/n: Tochi: Well… rather short and to chopped up for my taste, wish it could have been longer, but if I continued, it would have subtracted from the dramatic tension I was trying to build
Flap Jack: Yeah, trying. –rolls eyes- Anyway, you read it, so review, put it on alert, stand back, and join my Flap Jackian army.
