A/N: It's officially Halloween (2AM, but still Halloween) so I had to update again. This chapter is shorter than the others, though not by much. But whatever, it's Halloween! Consider this a treat... or a trick, I'm not picky. [Not actually Halloween in this chapter]

Being beaten to death with a hammer was a preferable feeling to this. The past few hours (or days, it felt like days) were spent hunched over and with nails digging into Sam's sides. He had been in some of the worst pain he'd felt in years. His stomach was cramping up terribly and he was sorely disappointed when throwing up did nothing to soothe it.

His captors eventually began to take pity on him when tempers cooled off. It wasn't totally Sam's fault this is happening—he willingly took these drugs but they didn't know how it started or why he did it. 'For fun' was what they feared, but what Sam had said before made them think he did it more for his internal pain.

Sam was relieved to look up through his messy bangs to see Charlie and Dean entering the room. His eyes burnt and he shut them tight again. He felt Charlie's small, cold hands brush his hair aside and he heard her voice calling to Dean to plug something in.

He opened his eyes again to see Dean with a baby blue heating pad in his hands. Tired green eyes were transfixed on the small dial attached to the cord and turning it to "high." He knew in the back of his mind that the heat of square pad would help alleviate some of the tensing and stabbing pains but couldn't stand the thought of moving his arms from their protective embrace of his stomach.

"Okay, Sammy," Dean's much calmer voice called. "Move your arms and lift your shirt."

The muscles of Sam's arms twitched. He wanted to comply, he did, but he was having trouble thinking straight with the growing feeling of sickness and his cramped stomach.

"Do you need some help there?" Dean asked, trying his best to be patient with his ailing brother.

Sam just nodded and regretted the movement shaking his brain all over the place. The feeling was only worsened when Dean was a little too rough in forcing Sam to lie on his back with his arms held firmly to the mattress and away from his torso. Sam's stomach muscles tensed up and spasms twitched beneath the skin. His legs bent up to curl up again but it didn't hinder Charlie when she quickly pushed his sweat dampened shirt up and pressed the pad down firmly.

Dean let go and Sam sighed as he rolled to his side to curl up and hold the pad down tightly. It helped the pain a bit but nothing would ever make it truly end. Not until he was clean—and that definitely wasn't an option.

Soon hands were carding through his hair and swiping away the strands sticking to his face. Small, soft, totally Charlie hands. The heating pad didn't help the sudden heat flash he felt coming on.

Withdrawal sucks ass.

A reassuring hand gently patted Sam's shoulder and he knew it was Dean's.

"Look, man. I know right now is a really shitty time for you but we need to continue that talk."

Sam groaned.

"I know. But this is important. Charlie's here so I won't even yell, right, Charlie?"

Back with the kid gloves. It's like Dean thinks Sam is some helpless kid now that he was on his death bed and dying for another hit. It was an upgrade from the previous snarky comments and the power trip everyone seemed to be on, but Sam was irritable and hated it all the same.

"If you answer my questions and listen this will be over a lot faster and you can go back to whatever it is you're doing. Hell, Charlie said she'd sit with you when it gets too hard."

Sam didn't want to admit how nice it sounded to have someone by his side. He was pissed and he was in pain… but the hand playing with his hair was comforting and he liked knowing he wouldn't be locked up alone. There's no way Dean would lock him in if he was with her.

When there was no objection, Dean began the barrage of questions. "When did it start?"

Sam smothered his face deep into the pillow as another wave of nausea hit him. He inhaled sharply before trying to think back to the question. "I don't know, it just happened… s-summer?"

The honestly was greatly appreciated and Dean continued. "What have you done?"

"Just… whatever she gave me when you came... some pot... and," Sam scrunched his face and fought off the rising bile in his throat. He rasped out, "Oxy."

"Oxy? Oxycodone?"

"Yeah."

Dean counted in his head. He wasn't going to lose his cool, he needed to be calm if he was going to get Sam to cooperate. "What about the needle?"

"It was Oxy."

Dean rolled his eyes, thinking he had caught his brother in another lie. "Damn it, Sam—"

"She c-crushed it up and… I'unno what she did to make it liquid… I wasn't watching…"

Charlie nodded to Dean that it was the truth—she had done enough research on drugs to know it was a likely possibility. She hadn't been sure what Sam had done and tried to cover all the bases.

"Had you been injecting it before then?"

"No."

"Then how were you doing it?"

This was the part Sam didn't want to be helpful on, but he desperately needed the interrogation over so he could focus on not feeling like he was about to implode. "Chewed it… then crushed it…"

He could swear he heard Dean mumbling something about Charlie Sheen under his breath. "Why did you do it?"

That was when the talking came to an abrupt stop. A pained whine finally escape Sam's lips and he was so wound around himself he looked like his skin would tear. More guilt spread through Dean's chest at the expression on Sam's face, which he had been avoiding looking at.

It was only getting worse and Charlie resorted to using her free hand to rub Sam's back and whisper soft nothings to him. It didn't get to Dean until he heard a few broken sobs from his brother.

Maybe Sam did this to himself and he was set on playing Bad Cop but Dean couldn't keep watching his baby brother when he was like this. He couldn't keep doing nothing about it. When the sobs didn't stop was when Dean swallowed his pride and laid himself down and wrapped his arms around his fetal brother. Sam's head was buried deep into the pillow but inched to be closer to Dean's warmth.

They hated each other but they needed each other more than anything.

It was a rough night for everyone. Dean took time off from work to be with his brother and help him while Bobby and Charlie would check up on them when they were off work. Charlie had to leave to go home and Bobby went off to bed while Dean and Sam sat together in the small bathroom near Sam's room.

The nausea didn't stop and Sam was miserable lying in bed. Dean had helped him up and to the smaller room where Sam had spent the past hour leaning on the toilet. His eyes were red-rimmed and carried darkening bags. He was in need of a shower with all the sweating and getting sick he had been doing.

Dean sat with his back leaning on the door and watched Sam for any worsening symptoms. It became clear they were done in there when Sam weakly mumbled to Dean, "Bed."

So they hobbled back to the bedroom and Dean helped his stubborn brother change into some clothes that weren't damp with sweat and spots of drool from vomiting messily.

Dean did his best to tuck Sam in and make him comfortable through the withdrawal but knew his odds of Sam sleeping were slim to none. The odds of Sam crying in pain and being difficult? Those were terribly high.

When it got bad again Dean tried to mimic Charlie when he saw the little comfort it brought to his brother. He played with Sam's dirty hair and scratched his blunt nails over the shirt covering Sam's back. When it didn't seem to be helping anymore, he gave into what he was admittedly embarrassed to do.

"Hey, Sammy, do you remember that song mom used to like?"

Sam barely registered the voice and groaned weakly in reply.

"She used to sing it when we were little and you always liked it. It's been a while since you heard it, huh?"

Dean was doing all he could to be delicate. He would resume being mad and pissy when Sam was able to stand on his own again—which, according to Bobby, would be in a couple days if they were lucky. If they weren't lucky then it would be a week, give or take.

And, with hope Sam was too out of it to remember this but not too out of it to be soothed by it, Dean hummed and prepared to sing what had been their mother's favorite song. He prayed the memory of innocent times and their late mom would help Sam to be better in some way or another.

"Oh the summer time is coming, and the trees are sweetly blooming. Where the wild mountain thyme grows around the blooming heather…"

The next day was worse. Sam spent his time in and out of coherent thought, caught between asking Dean to just kill him or begging for one more pill.

It worried Dean how sick his brother was. He was wrapping all his blankets around him, then Dean would leave and come back to see all were kicked off to the floor and an overheated Sam writhing on the bed. He was drenched again and Dean would force him into a bath if he didn't think Sam would drown.

When it would be time to eat, Sam got paranoid. He shoved any food away, positive he would become violently ill if he dared ingest anything. He sparingly sipped the water he was given and Dean was sure he was reaching dehydration.

The scariest moment, however, was when Dean was searching for another pillow—one that hadn't been drooled and cried over—and heard choking from the locked room Sam was in. Dean rushed to the latches and scraped his hand on the metal in his haste. He threw the door open to see Sam hunched over and coughing hard into his hands; a water bottle was knocked to the floor and spilling out onto the hardwood.

Dean rushed to Sam's side and put a hand on his back and was fully ready to perform the Heimlich maneuver. Sam's coughs died down and he returned to a more upright position, still in Dean's arms. Dean grabbed his face and turned it towards him and scrutinized the paling, shiny skin.

His fingers slipped down to Sam's neck and felt the racing pulse. Dean stared into Sam's eyes and concern grew at the sight of barely-visible rings of hazel around blown pupils. Sam looked stoned off his ass but Dean knew that was impossible.

"Lay back down," he ordered. "And don't ever scare me like that again."

Sam leaned back to lay down and braced himself for the new cramps setting in.

A/N: I'm a fucking nerd and had to work in "Wild Mountain Thyme," the song Dean begins to sing to Sam. Have more Halloween treats and go look up Jensen Ackles singing Wild Mountain Thyme on YouTube. You know how terribly he sings in Season 10 when he's drunk? All faked. He's actually amazing.

Shout out to the internet for all these withdrawal symptoms. I couldn't have done it without you.

Happy Halloween, kids!