John knew that Sam had issues with his anger from a young age. Probably about age five to seven is when he started showing real signs of having an issue. Mary and John had been worried the first time it happened but after that, they knew something was wrong.
Sam and Dean had been outside playing one of their many made-up games when Dean had won. "I win!" he yelled out in front of an already agitated younger brother. Sam huffed and crossed his arms,
"I don't want to play anymore," he said and sat down on the grass. Dean had sighed and tried to pick Sam up by his arms but surprisingly Sam had bitten him. Dean snatched his hand back and held it close to his chest with watering eyes.
"Ow Sammy!" he said loudly and looked down at his hand with a trembling lip. "That hurt," he said quieter and tried not to cry. Big boys didn't cry. Mary and John had heard from their respective places in the kitchen while making dinner. They came out quickly and were surprised to see a pouting Sam and hurt Dean. Mary went to Dean and John went to Sam.
"Hey Deano, you okay?" Mary asked to which the little boy shook his head and buried it in the crook of her neck crying. "What's wrong?" she asked rubbing his back and he leaned back to show her his hand. Mary gasped at the slightly deep bite marks and glanced at Sam to see him being questioned by John. She looked back to her other son and noticed a small trail of blood from the wound. Quickly she scooped Dean up from the front yard and brought him inside, intent on cleaning up his hand and calming him down. He was hiccuping uncontrollably through his tears.
"What happened Sam?" John asked softly. Sam glared at his daddy and kept his arms crossed.
"It's not fair, he always wins. He's bigger and stronger, and-and-" he tried to explain.
John put a hand up and Sam grunted, frustrated but stopped. "Just because Dean wins doesn't give you the right to bite him. We don't bite Sammy. Say it back to me."
Sam rolled his eyes and John was surprised at the gesture. "We don't bite" he gritted out with a shocking amount of venom. It was almost… frightening? No, John wasn't afraid of his six-year-old. Especially not his sweet little Sammy.
"Can daddy have a hug?" John asked but Sam shook his head and walked past him. John watched as his small son stomped through the yard and into the house, confused. Sam always cried when chastised, always melted into his daddy's arms after. John sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. His little Sammy was growing up.
The next time it happened Sam was a week away from turning seven. They had more little incidents but nothing to be too worried over, at least that's what they told themself. Sure, Sam was a very sore loser but what kid wasn't. Maybe it wasn't too normal that Sam had trashed his room when he couldn't have ice cream for dinner but tantrums were common, right? Or when he put a hole in the sofa with a butter knife because his brother had the remote. At least he wasn't physically lashing out anymore.
The most recent incident however had been John and Marys' last straw. Sam had just been gotten out of the bath and had chosen to wear a different shirt other than what Mary had picked out. When he left his room Mary had ordered him back to his room to change into his church shirt but he had refused.
"I'm not wearing that Mommy" he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms with a pout. Mary put her hands on her hip and sighed.
"Samuel go put your shirt on, now" she repeated sternly to which Sam just turned to go on the couch. "John!" Mary called frustrated. John came from upstairs with Dean holding his hand, his hair gelled nicely. Mary gave a quick smile to Dean before pinning John with a frustrated glare. "Sam won't put his shirt on," she said in a huff. John sighed and nodded before letting go of Dean's hand and heading over to the living room. Sam was on the couch watching the Thundercats when John knelt in front of him. Sam smiled and pointed to the tv.
"Wanna watch with me, daddy?" John gave a small smile and shook his head.
"No, Sammy but can you please put your church shirt on?" and Sams face fell immediately. He shook his head and leaned back into the couch, looking down at his hands.
"No," he said quietly. John sighed and took a seat next to him on the couch.
"Sammy, why not?" Sam looked up and narrowed his eyes,
"Because I don't want to" was all he said before looking back down at his hands.
"Sam, your not always going to have things your way, you need to listen to your mother and me and wear the shirt." Sam just shrugged. "Sam-"
"I'M NOT WEARING IT!" he yelled so loud it left him panting. John was ashamed to admit that he had jumped a little bit. Mary and Dean came into the room then. John took a deep breath before looking back at Sam and giving him his sternest look yet.
"Get up, Sam. You are going to wear this shirt whether you want to or not" he said firmly and when Sam didn't get up, he went to pick him up.
Later down the line, therapists would advise him to never do that during an episode.
Unexpectedly, Sam bucked out of John's reach and kicked at him before taking off towards his room. John grunted and followed him quickly before he could do any damage. Lord knows that boy could if you gave him enough time. John shuddered at the thought internally as he continued his pursuit to Sam. "Sam!" he yelled before entering the room and was surprised to see Sam on his bed with his back to the door. "Sam?" he said quietly. Sam didn't move. "What are you doing bud?" John said quietly and walked into the room slowly. As John got closer to the bed though he saw that Sam was sitting with his head bent down so his hands could pull at his hair. John could see his scalp already reddening and he could hear him panting. "Sam," John said and put a hand on his shoulder which only made him pull hard. John put his hands over his sons and whispered. "Sammy let go." Sam began shaking his head rapidly and breathing harder. "Sam-"
"NO" Sam yelled as John tried to remove his hands from his hair. Then began a horrifying cycle. Sam continued to scream "NO" at the top of his lungs and fought against the arms that had enclosed around him when he tried to run again. He started slamming his head into his father's chest over and over again. John knew that couldn't have felt good but he couldn't risk letting go of his son to put something in between his small head and his own broad chest.
Finally, Mary came into the room with a wide-eyed Dean behind her who she quickly shooed away at the violent sight. Dean hadn't left though and watched as his dad had yelled at Mary to put a pillow behind Sam's head. She did, quickly, and stood back in horror as she watched the violent episode. Sam continued to scream and buck for another ten minutes before he slowly got quieter and quieter until he was left panting loudly. If you asked John and Mary, it went on for a lifetime they would say. As Sam's breath evened out John physically felt the tension leave his little boy which left an exhausted and emotional Sam in its wake. Sam looked up at his father as if seeing him for the first time and his lip began to tremble. "I'm sorry daddy," he said when he saw his father's worried expression. He didn't want to be mean or hurt his daddy, he had just been so angry and he hadn't known how to expel the feeling but the screaming, the fighting, and pain had helped relieve that anger. "Sammys' sorry daddy" he cried wholeheartedly when his fathers' expression remained the same. John glanced at a tear-streaked Mary before looking back at Sam. He nodded slowly and spoke soft, and quiet.
"It's okay bud. Daddy's not mad, we're gonna help you" and with that Sam rested his head on his dad's chest and his eyes began to droop. John looked at Mary, "we're gonna help you" he whispered, rubbing his son's back. Mary nodded with fresh tears in her eyes before going over to the two to lean her head on her husband's shoulder; she stroked Sams hair softly.
"What are we going to do?" she whispered. John looked at Sam as he spoke.
"Exactly what I said. Help him." Mary nodded against his shoulder.
Dean watched the whole thing from start to finish without making a sound. He cried silently and let the salty tears fall onto his lips and drip down his chin. It was scary how unfamiliar Sam had seemed, almost as if he had been watching a stranger and not his brother. Dean never wanted to see anything like that again. In the past couple of months, Dean had seen Sam go from the sweetest little boy to an absolute nightmare. It was jarring how fast he could become rageful and how quick he acted on it. His parents had tried to find out the cause of this sudden change but hadn't been successful. Dean hoped they would find out soon, he didn't want to be afraid of his brother. He loved Sammy too much to be afraid of him but sometimes it was hard. Like when he yelled at Dad or bit him. Dean couldn't help but be scared. He couldn't wait for the day when Sam was all better because quite frankly Dean knew that something was wrong. He knew it wasn't normal, the way Sam acted.
The next they celebrated Sams birthday and the weekend after that they had an appointment with a child psychologist.
They were given an acronym and three words.
Impulsive explosive disorder. IED.
Mary and John had been confused when they heard the term but once explained. It had left Mary in tears and John rightfully upset. The psychologist had explained the lack of cure and how they could go about treating it.
Now nine years later and Sam was fifteen. The doctors and therapists at the behavorial rehab facilities had explained to both John and Mary that with puberty and the hormonal changes Sam would be going through, he would have a hard time managing his anger. They said it would get worse before it got better and the most they would be able to do is stick to the same tactics they had for years. Breathing exercises, finding the cause of his anger, removing himself from triggers, and helping him calm his rage. It was challenging, and Sam struggled from time to time but John and Mary could tell he tried. He tried to contain his rage. He tried to remove himself from triggers and he tried to breathe through it when it did get the best of him but sometimes it just wasn't enough. Sometimes he couldn't breathe through it, sometimes he wasn't fast enough to identify something that was triggering him, and sometimes he just couldn't bring himself to leave the trigger long enough for him to think about what he was doing.
He would smash things and yell, and just be an all-time terror during the especially bad episodes. It was even harder to watch when you knew that the person you watched do this stuff wasn't the person you raised. That they couldn't control themselves and it was as if someone else took over. Someone completely unreasonable, and looking for an outlet for his rage because that's what it really came down to. During, these episodes Sam was just trying to find a way to release this rage that had been building, a rage that threatened to control his whole being, a rage that made him feel detached. His only objective during those episodes was to cure himself of that, to find something that made him feel grounded, and breaking things and yelling did that for him. It felt good to release all that energy onto something or someone at the moment however when everything was said and done and Sam was left panting. Nothing felt good. He felt like a monster after and almost always ended up trying to storm off somewhere to be alone. He hated when his family had to see him like that, like some feral animal that couldn't be reasoned with. He hated watching those faces stuck with a look of horror, terror. Sometimes he cried, sometimes he broke more stuff in his time alone, but what never failed was the crushing feeling of shame and guilt he felt. Everyone walked on eggshells around him after an episode and he loathed the fact that he had made them scared of him. He wasn't a mean person, he didn't want to be the way he is, and he never wanted to cause harm or fear, and as dumb as an excuse it was. He couldn't control it. It was sick though the feeling of utter relief he felt after however. It was as if he could finally breathe and he could think again. The lack of racing thoughts, crushing weight on his chest, and tremors running through his body was something akin to heaven. Now, though? Sam was struggling more than ever. His brother knew better than to push his buttons but every now and then he did and Sam tried so hard to be a good, normal little brother and take the ribbing but then Dean would start touching him and it got even harder. It would start with a light punch, then maybe a noogie, but then when Sam said so Dean wouldn't stop. Then Sam would say "Dean seriously stop" and Dean wouldn't take him seriously. A prime example of how to cause an episode. Sam would then try to fight against it but Dean wouldn't let up. After about two minutes, the rage bubbled more and more as Sam struggled against the hold more and more, and then Sam would get quiet. "Dean. Let. Go" he would say finally. Panting from holding back while simultaneously trying to break from the hold. Sometimes that final statement could make Dean stop but sometimes, Dean pushed buttons. Didn't stop when Sam said that and that's precisely when things went from bad to worse. Sam bucked against the hold and began to physically lash out with his fists which he aimed for Dean's face and chest. Dean let go in order to avoid catching a mean hook to his jaw. He backed up a few steps and looked at an angry Sam. Dean held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay Sam, I'm sorry. I hear you Sammy" he said backing up a couple more steps. Sam closed his eyes and his fists before turning around. By the rise and fall of his shoulders, Dean knew that Sam was trying to prevent an episode but was dangerously close to failing. Slowly, Sam let out a measure breathed, and walked out of the room. Dean sighed and dropped his hands before running one through his hands. "Jeez," he mumbled. He hung his head with guilt. Sometimes he was the cause of Sams' episodes when he pushed his limits and this was just one of those times.
Upstairs, in his room, Sam threw one of his pillows across the room. He paced for fifteen minutes while grunting in frustration and fisting hand fulls of his hair trying desperately not to act on his rage. It had been six months since the last time he trashed his room and he planned to keep the record going but the urge was ever-present. Finally, Sam slumped against the wall and down to the floor, exhausted. The rage hadn't gotten the best of him and for that, he was grateful but with that relief came guilt. Sure, he may not have completely avoided a reaction but at least there hadn't been any destruction. He'd been able to control his actions in the midst of his anger aside from hurting his brother which he would apologize for after he woke up. These outbursts usually left him exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically. Sam fell asleep against the wall.
Two hours later, Sam woke up to his mother stroking his cheek and brushing his hair out of his eyes. She smiled sympathetically when caught sight of his reddened scalp. "I thought you were trying to stop pulling at your hair," she said lightly. Sam smiled lazily and shrugged,
"It was either that or trashing my room." Mary nodded and held Sams face in her hands.
"What happened Sam?" she whispered and Sam sighed. He tried to look away but she turned his face back.
"Dean was messing with me and I couldn't handle it, that's it" and Mary raised her eyebrows. Sam sighed again, "Okay, it got a little out of hand and I got angry. I'm fine" he shrugged. Mary shook her head,
"Sam, I know you and for Dean to make you mad? It usually takes some pushing." Sam was quiet for a moment before looking down at his eyes.
"I hit him, mom," he admitted quietly. "I hit him and I hate myself for it. He just wouldn't stop and I got fed up. I told him- I told him- I said s-stop b-but" and then he was crying. Crying because he would never want to hurt his brother but he had and now that was something he would have to live with. Mary gathered Sam into her arms and cradled the back of his head whilst rubbing his back as he cried into her shoulder.
"Oh, my sweet Sammy. Honey, that is not your fault. You told him, you told him and he didn't listen. It's one of your triggers when he plays hands-on but I'm proud of you. You tried to put a stop to it and ultimately you were able to restrain yourself. I'm not saying it's okay that you hit him but it wasn't without cause. Your working on it, that's all I need. To know your working on it" she finished her speech with a kiss on the top of his head. She rocked him back and forth as he sobbed until he quieted. "You okay?" she whispered and he nodded against her shoulder before sitting up.
"I love you mom" and right there her heart broke all over again for her little boy. It wasn't his fault he is the way he is and he truly was her sweet little boy. Sam had the kindest heart and had an all-around gentle nature but the chemical imbalance in his brain didn't always relay that. However, in moments like these, she saw that clear as day. Her Sammy was still there, the Sammy who had cried when he saw a dead bird, the Sammy who had tried his damndest to impress his big brother as a child, and the Sammy that had called his mother's kisses magic. That was her Sammy, the Sammy that she knew. She wouldn't hold this disorder against him.
"I love you too" she smiled before helping him off the floor and to his bed. "How about some proper rest?" and Sam nodded, tired once more. He laid down and was asleep within minutes. Mary brushed his hair out of his eyes one last time before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead and leaving.
She turned around to leave and when she opened the door she was a little surprised to see a very guilty Dean on the other side. "He had an episode," he said in a hurried whisper. Mary nodded and closed the door behind her.
"I know." Dean sighed and shook his head,
"It was my fault mom, I'm sorry I-"
"Dean I know what happened" she stopped him. Dean stuffed his hands in his back pocket and bit his lip. "Why would you do that to him?" Dean hung his head,
"I don't know," he said miserably. Mary shook his head,
"He feels awful about what he did to you but you pushed him to that point!" she said with disappointment clear in her tone. Dean looked up at her with his soul full eyes.
"I'm so sorry mom," he said and Mary nodded before gathering him in her arms. He hugged her back as if she was the very thing keeping him up.
"Dean, I'm not mad," she said over his tall shoulders and he nodded. "Just please, please listen to him when he says stop" and Dean nodded again,
"I know mom, it won't happen again." The two pulled apart and Mary smiled.
"How about we let your brother sleep while the two of us make a pie?" Dean smiled back,
"Yeah okay," he said quietly. Mary knew that John and herself spent a lot of time with Sam at the facility, in his therapies, and with psychologists so she always tried even harder to make sure that there was also time spent with Dean.
Dean always tried to stay out of the way when it came to Sam but Mary saw the longing in his eyes sometimes. She never missed the way Dean would smile through the windows as John and Mary did cognitive activities with Sam or the hint of sadness that lingered in his eyes.
The rest of the evening was pleasant John came home from work about an hour later. Dean and Mary finished the pie then Dean and John grilled some chicken for dinner. Mary finished the mash potatoes, and green beans before she set the table and John brought the chicken in while Dean washed his hands. John gave his wife a kiss and Mary smiled. "What was that for?" she said with a smile and John wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, bringing her close.
"I just figured you could use a little loving too" he whispered before kissing her once more. Mary smiled against his lips and pulled back when she heard feet on the steps. John groaned,
"Don't worry" she said, "I'll make sure you get a little loving tonight too." John raised his eyebrows and whistled,
"That I can wait for," he said, making Mary laugh. Mary looked towards the stairs and laughed at a messy hair, bleary-eyed Sam.
"Hey Sammy, you all there?" she joked and Sam narrowed his eyes in confusion.
"Yes?" Mary laughed again,
"Come on, dinners ready" she motioned toward the kitchen, and Sam followed. He felt a little lightheaded as he walked into the bright dining room light. He took a seat at the table and waited for everyone else. His mom came in first with everyone behind him.
"Hey Sammy" his dad greeted and he waved, he was still pretty tired. Dean came in last and took a seat across from him,
"Hey Sam," he said and Sam gave him a smile before biting his lip.
"I'm sorry Dean," Dean smiled sheepishly,
"Yeah me too" he rolled his eyes making Sam laugh. "We good?" he asked, and Sam nodded,
"Good."
The rest of the meal was enjoyable. Mary and John caught each other up on their day and Dean scarfed down his food as he told Sam all about his latest conquest. Sam had nodded his way through the conversation and barely touched his food. Sam wasn't a chatty Cathay but it was uncommon for him to not say anything at all. "Dude, I'm telling you, her legs were never-ending-"
Suddenly, Sam set his fork down with a loud clatter and swallowed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath making Mary and John look his way. "Everything okay, bud?" John asked and Sam shook his head.
"I-I-I don't f-feel so g-good" he stuttered out before scooting his chair back with a loud screech and speed walking towards the downstairs bathroom. Everyone heard him gag as he made his way to the bathroom and hoped he had made it in time. Mary sighed and got up,
"I think it's the new anticonvulsants," she said before hurrying after him. She could hear him throwing up and the sound of it dropping into the toilet as she made her way down the hall. "Aw Sammy," she said from the doorway before she hurried into the bathroom and squatted beside him, rubbing his back. He gagged again and more contents of his stomach came up. He groaned and rested his head on his arm that was against the toilet. "You okay?" she asked and he shook his head.
"The s-smell, I-I can s-sm-" he was cut off by his own vomiting leaving Mary confused.
"What smell baby?"
"T-the c-chicken" he stuttered out over the toilet; spittle dripped from his lips. Mary got up and turned on the bathroom fan before closing the door,
"Better?" and Sam nodded. "I think it's your meds, might need them changed again" she voiced and Sam grunted too tired to argue. "Think you can make it upstairs" and Sam nodded. Mary helped Sam up to wash his face and rinse out his mouth before she guided him up the stairs with a steady hand on his back. Mary got Sam situated with a bucket next to his bed and him under the covers before she left with a kiss on his head and a promise to check on him every hour.
She made her way back downstairs and wasn't surprised to see the table clean, and dishes from dinner washed. She made her way back upstairs and to Dean's room. She knocked once before opening the door. "Hey, it's getting late," she said and Dean nodded.
"Sam okay?" he asked as he closed his comic.
"Yeah, just his meds, we'll take care of it" she assured and Dean gave a small smile before getting under his duvets. "Goodnight Dean," she said before closing his door. Mary made her way back to Sam's room and cracked the door to see he was sleeping soundly before finally going to her own room. John was already in bed and showered by the wet hair.
"The boys asleep?" and Mary nodded before heading to the shower. John went back to his book and Mary lingered in the bathroom doorway,
"Don't think I forgot about you" was all she said before dropping her bathrobe and heading towards the shower. John laughed and nodded before going back to his book.
Mary walked back into the room fifteen minutes later in only her lacy undergarments before walking seductively to the bed. John threw his book and sat up,
"Well hello," he said and Mary grabbed his shoulders before swinging her leg over so that she was straddling him.
"Hey," she said seductively before leaning in to kiss him eagerly which he returned with the same vigor. His hands dipped down to her waist-
Mary collapsed against the bed as she crawled off John's lap and brought the duvets up to cover her chest. Panting she looked over to John who was staring at her with a smile. "That was really good" she whispered and he nodded.
"Yeah it was," he said before looking up at the ceiling, throwing something into the trash can beside their bed, and slipping something back into their bedside table drawer. "Did ya find out what was up with Sam?" he asked slightly out of breath.
"His meds, I'm going to call his doctor tomorrow" and John nodded before rolling over and spooning Mary.
"I love you, Mary Winchester," he said and kissed her shoulder.
"I love you too John Winchester" she smirked before closing her eyes.
Mary got up a total of six times that night to check on Sam. She cleaned out his bucket just once and waited with him during two of those times as he expelled the last of his stomach contents.
The next morning Sam woke up to an empty bucket and sore stomach though he did feel a lot better. He got up and completed his morning routine before heading to his mom and dad's room for his meds. They kept his pills in their bathroom because one time he threatened to flush them down the toilet after a particularly bad reaction, he was ten. He knocked once and waited until he heard rustling and then the door opened. "Good morning Mom," he said, which she returned before moving aside and gesturing for him to come in.
"Wait in the bathroom," she said before going over to her draw; John was still sleeping.
"K," he said as he made his way over. He took a seat on the toilet and waited with his hands in his lap. Mary walked in two minutes later and opened the medicine cabinet before pulling out one bottle, Sam frowned. "What about the other three?" he asked but Mary shook her head.
"We're going to talk to your doctor about figuring out which one of those gave you the allergic reaction so we can change it, so for now it's just this one" and Sam stared at her bewildered.
"Mom I need those!" he shouted slightly and Mary sighed.
"Sam you're not taking them un-"
"The hell I'm not" he yelled, standing up. Mary flinched a little and took a step back and Sam's jaw slackened.
"Mom I-" Mary put a hand up,
"Just listen to me, Sam?" Sam sighed and hung his head,
"No" he whispered before walking out. Mary went to follow him when she noticed a bleary-eyed John sitting up.
"What's up with him?" he said through a yawn and Mary threw her hands up helplessly before looking in the direction that Sam went.
"I should check on him," she said but she didn't move. She turned back to John who shrugged,
"I don't think he's too worked up, just give him his space?" Mary sighed and nodded but she was still worried. Without his meds, Sam was at a higher risk of an episode and repetitive seizure now that he had thrown them all up. The only thing he could take was the Adderall and he hadn't even taken those. Sometimes Mary felt like they were doing this all wrong.
She was brought out of her head with a kiss on her shoulder, ¨Stop worrying Mary, just make sure he gets the adderall¨ he said. Mary turned her head to plant a kiss onto John's forehead,
¨What did I do to deserve you?" she asked sweetly and John chuckled.
¨I should ask you that" he retorted.
In his room, Sam felt an episode brewing and he was helpless to stop it, he needed to find a way to get those meds. He didn't care that they made him sick, he needed them or else he wouldn't make it through the day! Sam blew out a frustrating breath and ran a hair through his tangled mess of hair. He needed to find some way to keep himself calm without the meds or he would have an episode. Sam decided that he would take a nice, hot, and hopefully, relaxing shower while practicing a couple of breathing exercises. He nodded to himself as he got his clothes together, he could do this. Just stay calm, it wasn't that hard. He and his therapists practiced it all the time, no biggy.
The shower was relaxing until it got cold all too quickly. Sam scoffed at his luck, he'd gotten what, maybe ten minutes? Sam turned the water off and dried himself off before putting his clothes on. He toweled off his hair until it was somewhat dry before hanging his towel back up and leaving the bathroom. He sat on his bed, criss-cross applesauce, with his hands resting on his knees. Sam closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath, he held it for six seconds before exhaling for six seconds. He repeated the process for about thirty minutes until he finally felt grounded. Sam opened his eyes and looked around his room, maybe he could clean it, that could be relaxing. Something productive to channel his energy into. He got up and put his hands on his hips, looking around the room. Okay, cleaning his room it was.
Sam started with reorganizing his dresser that practically had clothes flooding out of it. He refolded all his clothes and set them back in the dresser within twenty minutes. Next up, under his bed. There he found more clothes, all dirty, some old tennis shoes, and two baseball gloves. He smiled as he remembered his dad talking up the idea of him joining baseball to help provide a positive outlet for his aggression. Said it would keep him sharp, and calm. Sam had practiced with his dad out in the front yard for weeks before tryouts. Sadly, he hadn't been any good and didn't even make it through cutouts. John hadn't been disappointed and had actually commended Sam for giving it a go. Those couple weeks were the longest Sam had gone without any semblance of an episode. He wondered why they never thought to try any other sports with how well it had worked.
After Sam finished under the bed there wasn't much left to do. He sighed and sat on his bed. He needed to stay preoccupied but what was left for him to do? Bothering Dean was always an option but that wouldn´t do him any good truly. Maybe Dean would want to play a little video games?
Sam left his own room and knocked on Dean's closed door, he heard a muffled come in and did so. ¨Hey, Dean," he said casually, walking into his room to sit on his bed. Dean quirked an eyebrow at him,
¨Yes?¨ he answered skeptically. Sam shrugged,
``Want to play some Halo?" he suggested and Dean seemed to think about it before returning his shrug with a,
¨Yeah, okay, Sammy.¨ Sam smiled and blew out a silent breath of relief as Dean turned to set up the Xbox. This would keep his attention for at least another two hours.
Sam and Dean wasted the afternoon away as they immersed themselves in military science fiction. It was quite enjoyable actually and Sam found himself relaxing into the familiar routine of letting his fingers fly to each button with muscle memory. Not much thinking was required and for the afternoon Sam was able to just be. Their fun was cut short however when the doorbell rang and Dean paused the game by clicking the yellow Y on his controller. Sam looked up from the tv to Dean, ``dude, come on, unpause it" but Dean walked over to his closet while shaking his head.
¨No can do little brother, got a party I need to attend¨ he said coolly. Sam opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. Dean walked back to him briskly and ruffled his hair before slipping his arm in the sleeve of his jacket and grabbing his beeper. ``Love you, Sammy" he said quickly before hurrying out of the room and down to his parent's room, probably to let them know he was leaving. He heard faint murmuring before he heard Dean pounding down the steps and to the front door before it creaked open and slammed closed. Sam let out a breath and looked around the room, he could always keep playing, Dean wouldn't mind, but he also knew it wouldn't be as fun without Dean. He got off Dean's bed, turned off the tv, and set his controller on top of the gaming system before leaving his brother's room and turning to head to his own. He was halfway through his doorway before he chose to go downstairs and have a snack. Sam busied his hands with chopping cheese, spreading the pepperoni out on the cutting board, and taking out half of the Ritz´s cracker from the packet. He brought the plate to the table and enjoyed his snack, not looking at anything for too long or in particular. Sam ate his snack methodically, almost in a daze, that he didn't hear his mother come downstairs. Mary watched silently from the doorway as Sam ate his snack. His eyes simply would not focus on anything, she noticed and she was glad she had brought the Adderall downstairs with her in her sweater pocket.
¨Sam?" she voiced quietly, stepping into the kitchen more and making the pills in her jacket pocket rattle quietly. Sam didn't look her way and seemed to have not heard her so she repeated his name just an octave louder. This time Sam blinked before looking around the dining room and finally settling on his mom.
¨Hey mom" he said dully; he was still upset with her about this morning. The day had been draining trying to manage his anger without the help of the medication. It was a big difference then to what he was used to. For the majority of his life, Sam had been medicated. It gave him a sense of calmness throughout his day from start to finish and without it only brought anxiousness and anxiety. He knew that without the help of his medication he was more likely to have an episode and a seizure which was absolutely terrifying.
Mary gave a sad smile before walking to the table and placing the Adderall on the table. Sam looked at them and back at her. ¨You're just giving me these now?" he questioned, surprised. All-day, he had trouble holding his own attention and constantly scattered to find something to do and now he knew why. What a difference Adderall made.
´´I wanted to give you time to cool off,¨ she explained. Sam shook his head, he'd done fine the majority of the day without it and he planned to go the rest now that he knew he could do it.
¨I´m fine without them actually¨ he said and went back to his meal. Mary opened the bottle and shook out one thick blue pill with a small black script which read 40 mg. She held her palm out to Sam,
¨Sam, take the pill¨ but Sam only looked at it before turning back to his snack and finishing his crackers. He got up from the table and readied to walk out but his mom, who he towered over slightly, stood in his way, pill in hand. Sam rolled his eyes with a sigh,
¨Excuse me mom" he said, looking down on her. Mary only put one hand on her hip and nodded toward the pill in her hand. Sam stared at her square in the eye for a good minute before grabbing the pill from her palm, Mary smiled,
"Thank you¨ she said. Sam didn't smile back however and instead walked past her to get in the kitchen, Mary assumed he would get a glass of water.
She followed behind him to make sure that he took the pill but was surprised when he shamelessly threw it in the trash can before placing his plate in the sink. He turned to go back upstairs but once again his mother was in his way. Sam looked up to the ceiling briefly and ran a hand down his face in frustration. ¨Excuse me¨ he said through gritted teeth but Mary did not falter.
¨Sam you can not throw out your pills every time you don't want them¨ she reasoned sternly. Sam nodded mockingly and rolled his eyes,
"Yup got it," he said sarcastically before trying to step around her to which she moved with him. Mary stood with her hands on her hips, and shoulders squared.
"Don't get disrespectful Sam, you need to get rid of the attitude" she said with her voice raised slightly. Sam looked at her with little to no emotion and she stared back with raised eyebrows. Right as Mary was about to say something again Sam just brushed past her, knocking her to the side a little. Mary gaped at Sam's back as he headed to the stairs, "Sam!" she called after him but he just continued to make his way to the stairs and eventually up them. "Sam!" she called after him once more, however, this time she followed him.
Sam kept moving as if he hadn't heard his mother and walked through the threshold of his room, Mary hot on his heels. "Samuel William Winchester, you answer me right now!" Mary said loudly, finally fed up with her youngest behavior. She knew that raising her voice wouldn't help anything, she just couldn't help but grow frustrated.
Sharp and quick Sam spun around to face his mother growing angrier by the second. "WHAT?!" Sam yelled with his arms spread wide in the air. His face was beet red expressing just how angry he truly was. Mary gaped, suddenly at a loss for words because of the loud outburst. Her mouth opened and closed for a moment. Sams' eyebrows raised in mockery and agitation, "Well?!" he questioned loudly, though not like his previous statement. Mary pursed her lips and placed her hands on her hips, fighting to remain composed with Sam's increased attitude.
"You tell me, Sam," she said evenly with her own eyebrows raised. Sam dropped his arms and shrugged aggressively,
"Tell you what?" he said with a sickening amount of attitude. Mary rolled her tongue over her teeth at his audacity,
"Your attitude Sam'' she said and let him assume the rest. Sam lifted his shoulders and dropped them, looking around the room pointlessly before focusing back on his mother.
"You're on my ass, of course I'm going to have an attitude" he reasoned with his teenager logic and dragging out the a. Mary's jaw once again dropped without her permission,
"Do not use that language with me, Samuel!" she yelled and Sam growled, tangling a hand in his hair out of frustration. He looked around his room before giving a frustrated groan at the lack of something to throw now that his room was clean. Mary took a steadying breath while watching Sam. She needed to calm him down or god only knows what he would do. Though Sam had been dealing with this disorder for quite some time it never failed to find new ways to scare Mary.
"Sam…" she said evenly.
Sam was too busy grappling for some kind of control in his own storm of pure rage that threatened to overcome him to even hear his mother. His mind felt like it was spiraling and with it the thin thread of control he held over his impulses. He didn't want to have another episode or prove that he couldn't handle being off his meds but this urge, this feeling, this ferocity felt as if it would consume him. In all his life Sam had never fought this hard to stop an incoming attack and he was still crippling under the pressure.
Sam squeezed his eyes closed and held his head in his hands, hunching over. In his head, he chanted over and over, control control control, the mantra in his head so loud that he hadn't heard a word his mother spoke.
"Sam?" Mary questioned, concerned as Sam's knees bent and his shoulders hunched more. She hovered behind him internally debating whether or not to touch him or give him his space.
As Sam got more desperate the mantra changed to no no no no with a mix of pleas to stop. His knees eventually buckled and down he went. Sam's chest got tighter as he tried his damndest not to scream, not to let the fury bubble over and spill down the side.
Mary kneeled by Sam's shaking body and watched as he cradled his head against the carpet floor, spewing out pleas. Her hand hovered over his body but never made contact. Mary was at a complete loss as to what to do and rightfully so. She had never seen Sam fight against something he already had so little control over when he wasn't upset so to see it, well, it was jarring.
"Sam? Sam please… Sam answer me!" Mary called out frantically, each time louder than the last. Mary looked up to the ceiling pointlessly and felt so very helpless. She needed to help her baby but he wasn't hearing her. Suddenly Mary lowered her mouth towards Sams' ear. "Baby, it's mom. Sam, please hear me" she dragged out her, please. "Moms' here… let me help."
"Shhh, Sammy you're fine."
"It's okay, you're okay."
"Listen, baby, listen."
It took five and a half minutes for Sam to stop pleading with himself. He was left panting, shoulders rising and falling at an unsteady rate, and his hair was matted with sweat.
"Your okay Sammy, you're justttt fine" she whispered. "Tell mom you're okay" she demanded as if speaking to a child. Panic attacks were always hard on Sam and tended to make him more emotional in the couple hours or days following. Marry rubbed his back soothingly for a moment before she felt him attempt to sit up. She rested her hand on the small of his back and placed a hand on his chest feeling it still rise and fall slightly unnaturally.
Her eyes watered sympathetically at the sight of Sams' tear-streaked face. Sam looked at his mother and his bottom lip trembled. She stared at her baby for not even a second before opening her arms and allowing Sam to barrel into them. He sobbed and sobbed into her chest for what seemed like forever as he gripped the back of her shirt. Mary rested her cheek on her babys' chestnut hair and rubbed his back slowly in small circles. As Sam cried his heart and soul out Mary was floored with pride. It hadn´t been easy but Sam had fought off the episode even if it did cause a panic attack, he had done it. Now working on fighting it without a panic attack.
The two sat on the floor, Sam wrapped in his mothers' arms as his sobs began to quiet, they didn't know how long.
The next morning Sam woke up feeling very warm and the smell of vanilla in his nose very strong. He also felt a strange weight on his back and it wasn´t until he looked up that he realized he was in the arms of his sleeping mother.
She stirred at his movement and Sam watched as she eventually opened her eyes and very confused eyes scanned their surroundings. Sam gave a small smile when those confused eyes looked down at him. "Hey¨ she whispered, her lips fixing into a lazy smile. ¨Hey¨ he whispered back before setting his head back on her chest prompting her to enclose her arms around him once warm instead of resting on his back.
The two were silent as they stared at nothing, Sam looking off towards their right and Mary looking up at the ceiling. Mary was the first to break the silence.
¨I love you Sammy¨ she said with a kiss on his hair. Sam smiled and unconsciously nuzzled more into his mother.
¨I love you too mom.¨ Another couple of minutes passed before Mary patted Sam's back lightly and Sam knew it was a sign to sit up. ¨We really slept like this?¨ he questioned, jokingly. Mary shrugged with a smile,
¨I guess so.¨
Sam stood up first to lend a hand down to his mother which she gratefully took and Sam hoisted her up to her feet. Mary cracked her back and sighed at the instant relief making Sam laugh. ¨Don't laugh at the old lady¨ she admonished playfully and Sam held his hands up in mock surrender. ¨I´m gonna get in the shower and check on your fatherer¨ she said and placed a hand on one cheek while kissing the other. Sam leaned into the minute touch before nodding and watching her leave.
He felt very sad at her leaving and decided to read a little before heading down for breakfast, busy his mind.
Reading proved futile however and he only lasted a couple of minutes before closing his book and leaving his room to go to his parents. His father was still in bed when he opened the door and the sound of the shower could be heard through the bathroom door. ¨Hey bud¨ John said, closing his own book and still in bed leaning against the headboard.
¨Hey dad¨ Sam said, staring at the bathroom door that sealed his mother away.
¨I heard you had a rough night¨ his father said, drawing his attention away from the door. Sam nodded absentmindedly once again looking at the door. ¨You okay?¨ his father asked, sitting up just a little more and Sam couldn't help when his eyes watered slightly.
¨Yeah¨ he said wobbly and looked down at the ground because his lip had started to tremble, ¨how l-long is she g-gonna be?¨ he questioned, his voice breaking. John frowned at that and patted Mary's side of the bed,
¨Come here, bud¨ he said and Sam did. ¨What's going on?¨ he asked once Sam sat on the edge of his bed. Sam looked up at the ceiling trying to contain leaking tears and wringing his hands in his lap.
¨I-I don´t w-want to be a-alone?¨ he half questioned, half stated because to be quite honest he didn't know why he was crying, sure he was upset but he wasn't someone he cried. John nodded and figured it was the panic attack making Sam feel emotional. He scooted closer to his youngest son and placed an arm around his shoulders gently. Sam surprisingly leaned into his arm and turned his head to face his father's shoulder.
¨Does this help?¨ John asked hesitantly and Sam gave a small nod which John considered a win. It was quiet as John went back to his book with one hand.
Sam was relatively comfortable until the smell of gasoline wafted under his nose. He scrunched up his face at the smell and laughed a little. ¨Daddd¨ he said lazily. John turned his head to look at him,
¨Yes?¨" John drawled out. Sam slapped where he thought his dad's stomach was lightly,
¨You stink¨ he said, making John's eyebrows furrow. Sams´ face suddenly looked very confused, pale, and his eyes seemed glazed. ¨D-d-d¨ was all he got out before his expression went blank and his eyes rolled back. His whole body began to jerk violently and his limbs flailed in every direction. John watched in shock for only a second before the sharp crack of Sam's head hitting the headboard had him jumping back into action. John made quick work of moving Sam from the edge to the middle of the bed and placed his head a good measure away from the headboard with a pillow under it. He took the duvets off the bed as Sams´ bottom continued to thrash about and then watched in horror as the foam began to form and dribble out of his baby's mouth. John knew that all he could do now was wait and time the seizure and though he knew that it was only his son's body reacting to the lack of anticonvulsants he was still utterly terrified.
Sam's tormented body showed no sign of slowing down for the next two minutes before finally, everything came to a standstill right as Mary stepped out of the bathroom with dripping hair and her soft, pink towel. She looked from a still Sam to a terrified John with questioning eyes before she saw the foamed saliva on Sam's lips and neck. John stared at Mary with an unspoken question in his eyes. What do we do now?
Mary made her way towards the bed and sat next to her boy, smoothing the hair out of his face before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. Sam's eyes moved underneath closed eyelids before fluttering open. He groaned and turned to face glassy eyes on his mother. ¨Hey baby¨ she said, moving her hand to rub circles on Sam's chest. Sam didn´t respond, just stared at her with unseeing eyes. She smiled sadly, ¨Sam? Sam, say something¨ she said slightly frantic. Sam still didn´t respond and continued to stare right through her, making her worry. ¨Come on Sam, it's over¨ she tried to assure but once again he was unresponsive. Mary turned fretful eyes to a shaken John. ¨I think we need to take him to the hospital John¨ she said before turning her eyes back to an expressionless Sam. She continued to try and get him to focus until his eyes rolled back into his head and his body began shaking and thrashing once again. Mary gasped and jumped back with a hand over her mouth, not that she was scared, well she was but not of Sam, the seizure had just been so sudden. ¨J-John! Call 9-1-1!¨ she yelled because repeat seizures were never good. John hopped into action quickly and ran for his phone on the nightstand.
Mary could faintly hear John on the phone with the operator but her mind was too foggy at the moment to make out any words. She was almost mesmerized at the sight of Sam foaming out the mouth and his back arching. She broke herself out of the daze to quickly turn Sam to the side though it wasn't easy. She grunted and groaned at the sheer strength it took to turn her 150-pound son. Mary tried her damndest to hold him on his side but his continued flailing made it increasingly hard. She didn't register the lack of talking coming from John until he was at her side helping her hold Sam to the side. He looked at her briefly, almost as if to say I´m here.
Mary hadn't even realized she was crying until she tasted the salty tear on her lip. ¨The ambulance will be here in ten minutes¨ John informed Mary quickly. Mary nodded absentmindedly while staring at Sam's mouth. The foam was starting to look like a pinkish color?
Blood.
¨J-john, John he bit his tongue!¨ she shouted though she knew they could do nothing about that. She felt hopeless at that moment, absolutely, gut-wrenching hopelessness. It wasn´t as if Sam had never had a seizure before, just never like this. What killed her was the fact that there was nothing for her to do, if he were to die there would be no way of preventing it because you couldn't stop a seizure at all.
Finally, they heard the heavenly knock on their front door signaling that the responders were here. Mary quickly left the bedroom and ran down the hall to their stairs before barreling down them and continuing all the way to the front door. She swung it open and didn't even greet them, only told them to follow her before running in the direction of the door.
They arrive in the room and Mary is thanking the stars when she sees the still form of her son on their queen-sized bed. John looks back at them before removing himself from the bed and allowing them access to his boy.
Mary folded her hands under her chin and John wrapped his arms around her shoulders. They both watched as the paramedics got to work and supplied the right information. Before they knew it, they were strapping their baby onto an orange board before hoisting him out of the room and heading towards the stairs. John let go of Mary to grab her hand and drag her still form so they could follow the ambulance in their own car. Mary followed along absentmindedly too stunned to do anything else and allowed her body to be dragged by her arm.
It seemed that Mary had blinked and suddenly they were in the local hospitals' waiting room. John was pacing back and forth in his crumpled flannel that he barely had time to throw on. Mary looked around the waiting room, very confused. John seemed to notice because he was right in front of her in an instant. "Mary?" he questioned as if she hadn't been there this whole time.
"John?" John nodded and held her hands in his own,
"Oh thank god" he breathed out. "The doctors' said you were experiencing minor shock, said it was common in situations such as ours'" he recited. Mary stared at him before nodding slowly,
"O-okay?" John just smiled and placed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I'll get the doctor," he said softly before leaving down a hallway. Mary wondered how long they had been waiting briefly before deciding she needed to stand up, stretch her limbs. She had just finished cracking her neck when John reappeared with a doctor beside him. The doctor made quick work of putting a palm to her forehead and asking her how she felt simultaneously.
"F-fine actually." The doctor nodded and asked her to take a seat which she did.
"Make sure you stay hydrated, and please don't over-exert yourself. What you experienced can sometimes result in disorientation or derealization so please be mindful of that, other than that you're good." The doctor stood up from her crouched position in front of Mary and bid them a farewell before taking off down another hallway.
John took a seat next to her and just looked at her, his knee jumping up and down with nerves. She gave a small smile, "John, I'm fine, don't worry." John nodded and held up a hand,
"I know, I just-" he sighed. "I was just so worried about you and Sam both checking in" he exclaimed sadly. Mary nodded and placed a hand on his jumping knee calming the nerves almost instantly.
"I know but I'm fine now. See" she held up a hand towards herself and John laughed quietly.
"I see" he nodded. Mary smiled and placed a peck on his lips before leaning her forehead against his.
"I'm okay and Sam will be too," she reassured and felt John nod once more against her forehead. They pulled apart and held hands both opting to look around the room and just observe. "How long have we been waiting?" Mary asked quietly still looking around the room. John huffed, "an hour" he answered though his tone was much more relaxed. Mary nodded somewhat distracted.
Another thirty minutes of silence occurred, both content in the silence before a doctor emerged beckoning them by their sons' name. The couple got up instantly and walked over to him quickly. "That's us, hows' our son?" John asked hurriedly. The doctor smiled,
"Your son is just fine, we were able to link the seizures to the lack of anticonvulsants after years of his body being dependent on them it was a bit of a shock to the system. He is awake and stable, but we would like to keep him overnight to reassure ourselves. Also, do get him back on the anticonvulsants as soon as possible to avoid a repeat episode." Mary nodded,
"I'll talk to his pharmacist first thing tomorrow." The doctor nodded content with her answer before furrowing his eyebrows.
"Why was he off the anticonvulsants?"
"He had an allergic reaction to one of his new medications and the anticonvulsants were among those" she answered quickly. The doctor nodded again,
"Well, I'm guessing you two would like to see your son?" Mary and John nodded eagerly. The doctor swiftly turned on his heels and indicated for them to follow him which they did eagerly.
They stopped in front of room 118 and the three entered the room to see a slightly disorientated Sam looking around the room with bleary eyes. "Sam!" Mary gasped in relief, rushing towards her little boy. Sam sluggishly turned his head to look at her before he fixed a lazy smile on his lips.
"M-mom?" he stuttered and Mary teared up with pure relief. Her baby was okay. John came on the other side of the bed and held Sams' hand. Sam turned his head at that and stared at his dad with that same lazy smile.
"H-hey d-dad." Mary furrowed her eyebrows at the stutter.
"He bit his tongue so there will be a slight stutter, should be gone in a week or two?" the doctor reassured from the doorway. Mary nodded distractedly and petted Sams' hair.
"D-dean?" Sam asked.
"He spent the night at a friend's." Sam nodded then stared blankly at the ceiling. "Sam?" She heard Sam "hmm." "You okay?"
"Mhm," he responded before his eyes fell closed slowly and he dropped off, Mary laughed.
Her baby was okay and even if sometimes this disorder became more challenging than it once had been, that was okay because they would get through it, together.
Fin.
