"He named Azazel as his father?" John demanded, his voice hollow. Dean felt his chest tighten at the small bits of despair he could hear.
"Yeah, kept insisting on it." Dean said, unable to look at his dad. "Wouldn't hear anything else. Kept calling him his demon father and you his human father."
"But what the hell does it mean, 'demon father'?" Bobby asked. "They didn't have him for so long that they can just erase everything."
"His mind seems to be gone the most." Dean said. "The way he's talking, its like hes a kid."
Bobby gave a small groan, sitting back at his desk. Dean forced himself to look at his dad, flinching and looking away when he saw the look on his face. He couldn't describe the look, it just made him want to throw up.
He felt like he couldn't breathe suddenly, sitting in this room. Even the panic room was preferable to this.
Standing up, he went to the kitchen and made two banana and peanut butter sandwiches. Ignoring the other two he put everything on a paper plate and went back down to where his brother was being kept.
Sam was culred up on the cot, head on his knees. He didn't acknowledge Dean when he came in. the pizza had been pushed to the side again.
"Here, brought you something else." Dean said, putting the plate on the cot. "It's more up your alley."
Sam didn't stir or move, his chest moved as he breathed but that was the only sign of life.
"C'mon Sammy, give me something." Dean said, drained and just so damn tired. "At the very least eat something."
Sam moved, just barely enough but enough that Dean could see a flash of his face and immediately Dean was on alert.
He moved and grabbed Sams arms, pulling them away. Sam tried to fight him but his attempts were weakened due to how much blood was covering his front.
"What the hell Sam?" Dean demanded, pushing his arms down until he saw the deep cuts on his wrists and the side of his neck. Grabbing at his hands Dean saw his jagged nails that were covered and embedded in blood.
"You used your goddamn nails?" Dean said, fighting the urge to shout at him, it wouldn't do any good. "Why!?"
If Sam wanted to answer he didn't, just blinking at him with glazed over eyes.
Cursing Dean let go of him long enough to spring to one of the boxes to grab a first aid kit that he knew Bobby had there, going back to his brother as quickly as he could.
First thing he did was rip Sams shirt off, grimacing at the sight of scratches. He grabbed the scissors from the kit and cut the rest of it, throwing the scraps to the side.
He debated to take the handcuffs off but decided not to, it was still too much of a liability to do so.
He used one of the wipes to clean off the skin to try to get to the cuts, seeing other smaller ones as he worked. Forcing it out of his mind Dean focused on the work. Cleaning, disinfecting, bandaging all the cuts he could see. When the blood made his hands slippery he just wiped them on his jeans and kept working.
The more blood had been spilled, the stronger the smell of sulfur grew, something he was steadfastly ignoring as best as he could. Sam laid on the bed unmoving, letting Dean go as he wished to him. Sometimes he managed to let out a few small sounds but otherwise was silent.
When Sam had been properly bandaged Dean went to the sink and filled a bowl with water. Snagging a cloth he went back to his brother and started to clean the blood off of his skin. He cleaned under his nails as well and then started to cut the nails as short as he could without hurting him.
Finally after what seemed like forever Dean finished and he slumped forward, sliding down onto the ground. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to go back to the sink, cleaning his hands and arms of blood. He then cupped his hands washed his face as well.
Gripping the sides of the sink he took a few deep breaths. He looked up at the mirror enough to see Sam on the cot, unmoving. Swallowing hard he pushed away from the sink, turning to look at his brother. After a moment, Sam turned his head to look at him, his face still pale.
"What the hell Sam?" Dean asked hm, reaching back to grip at the sink and leaned against it. "What the hell is going on in your mind?"
There was no answer, of course, there was none. Shaking his head Dean spotted the blood that was decorating Sams mouth, there hadn't been any cuts there so he hadn't paid any attention. He grabbed the cloth and wet it once more, going over to him.
He wiped at Sam's mouth, flashbacks to when Sam had been Sammy and needed the help when he ate. He cleaned the blood off of it and then just stared at him, sitting on the cot.
"Why the hell did you do this Sam?" Dean asked, his voice low and surprisingly steady. "Why?"
Sam coughed, it sounded rough and dry, and despite knowing that the kid probably needed a glass of water Dean didn't go to get him one. He was too damn pissed.
"Tell me why Sam." Dean repeated, fighting the urge to grab at him.
"Thirsty." Sam rasped out, voice cracking. "Thirsty."
"You don't have to claw at yourself for a drink. Just tell me?" Dean told him, barely restraining from snapping at him. "What were you thinking?"
Sam growled under his breath and tried to turn, the handcuffs preventing him from doing so.
"Yeah try again, what the hell were you thinking?" Dean growled, hands shaking.
"Thirsty." Sam repeated.
Groaning Dean turned back to the sink and turned the water on, snatching the glass from the side and filling it. He walked briskly to his brother but his touch was still gentle when he lifted Sam's head and tilted the glass to his lips.
Sam drank weakly, most of the water falling down his front and getting him wet. When most of the glass was drained his head fell back and he coughed, closing his eyes. "Thirsty." he whispered once more.
"You just drank, what the hell are you thirsty for?" Dean asked, setting the glass on the ground. "Sammy, please talk to me."
Sam's eyes opened and he looked at Dean, he tried hard to ignore how he saw flecks of black and yellow in his brothers eyes and just stared down at him.
"Blood." Sam whispered, making Dean's heart stop for a moment. "Blood."
Despite himself he couldn't stop himself from reaching out and pressing on Sams gums, breathing out a sigh of relief when no vampire teeth slid out. "What do you mean blood?"
Sam coughed, and it still sounded so damn dry that Dean felt his own throat dry up. "Blood." he whispered once more. "Father blood."
It took Dean a moment, took a moment to realize just what Sam meant by 'Father Blood'. Swallowing hard he gripped at his brother tightly.
"Sammy." Dean managed to get out. "Do you mean...demon blood?"
Everything inside of him came to a stop when he saw Sam nod.
"Father blood." Sam whispered once more.
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