Four days after

The bell rang and Sam still hadn't arrived. Jessica looked around the class in case he had slid in one of the back seats without her noticing. Sam wasn't there though. Jess could only hope that he would come late.

It was lunch and Sam still hadn't arrived.

"What are you thinking about Jess?" Ines asked. Jessica looked at the girls sitting at the table. She had known them for over two months now, but none of them had clicked like Sam and her had in those few days they had talked. Sure, they were her friends, even though they could be mean sometimes, but not to her. Jessica thought about the week after the summer holiday. They'd just started school and the girls they were already talking behind people's backs. Jessica decided to block them out every time they did so. Jessica recalled words like "weirdo" and "freak" when they talked about Sam. It had bothered Jess, but she kept her mouth shut.

"Stuff," Jess answered, chewing her food, remembering Sam answering the exact same thing when she asked him what he liked. Her mouth twitched slightly. Sam. The girls didn't miss one movement though.

"Is it a boy?" Claire asked giggling, jumping to the first conclusion. Jess inwardly rolled her eyes but didn't say or show anything. The girls took it as a yes.

"Oh my god, Jess!" They were all giggling. "Who?"

"Nobody you know," Jess answered. It was true, they didn't know the first thing about Sam. Only that he missed school quite a lot, always sat in the back, didn't say much, kept to himself, owned an unusual amount of hoodies, always tucked his shirt down, never had any short sleeves on, usually furrowed his brow like he was in pain, sometimes looked like he was sad, usually looked as though he was hiding something…

Jessica had never thought about these things before. A bad feeling started to rise. She stopped eating. This, the girls didn't notice. They were only concentrated on guessing who the mysterious boy was, and if he was good-looking.

SPN-SPN-SPN

Jessica didn't walk the detour. Even though Sam missed school the same amount as the slackers who also sat in the back of every classrooms (although Sam put effort into his work and got good grades), and it wasn't unusual for him not to come, Jessica was worried sick. Something didn't seem right - at all. She walked at a brisk pace trying to keep her mind off Sam, but gosh something was so very very wrong. Why hadn't she noticed before? How come she just thought he was shy and innocent?

Stop being so fucking ignorant! Jessica mentally shouted at herself.

Jessica stopped dead in her tracks. She really wanted to know if Sam was at least okay. She was about going back and taking the detour route she walked with Sam, when she remembered that he'd never told her where he lived. Geez, How much did she know about him? She thought back to Sam's impressed expression at her house. A knot formed in her stomach.

Two days after - Meanwhile

Dean was worried. He didn't know why, but he had a bad feeling about, about… Something. He couldn't quite put his finger on what was so very wrong. He stopped the car and rushed into the store.

While paying for the groceries at the cash register, he couldn't help regretting leaving his brother alone, even though Sam drastically needed food. He knew that he should feel calm; his brother was fifteen and he'd left a note… He just couldn't help feeling as though something was horribly wrong.

"Sir?" Dean wiped his head up at the voice cracked. "That'll be 8.99." The teenager repeated, trying to be stern but only to have his voice break again.

"What? Oh, yes." The teenager rolled his moody eyes and Dean couldn't see anything but Sam in them. He payed for the food and tylenol.

Dean stormed out onto the parking lot. He practically threw the plastic bag in the backseat before falling into the front seat. He stepped on the pedal and hurried back to Sam.

"How long?" The question kept repeating itself in Dean's head.

"Too long." The heart sinking answer.

Dean stepped on the accelerator harder. The conversation kept whirling around in his head.

"He threatened to kill me."

Every breath Dean took shook. He tapped the wheel nervously.

"I should have been a better son."

Dean's eyes clouded. The car drove faster. Dean didn't care. It was a miracle that he made it back to the motel alive.

Dean could only have been gone for twenty-five minutes max. If the motel wasn't in the middle of nowhere and everything so far away, he could have arrived earlier.

Everything seemed so still when he arrived at the motel. Only a few lights were on in some of the rooms. The majority of the lights were switched off, but Dean suspected this was because they were in the middle of nowhere, so no one lived there. He saw the light was still dimly lit in his and Sam's room, and relaxed a bit. Surely, Sammy was still asleep.

Dean opened the door softly in hope that Sam was still sound asleep. He sighed, relieved, when he saw his brother curled up on his side with his head away from the door. He looked so peaceful. Dean went over to him smiling a little, ruffling his brother's hair. The younger brother didn't move, which was unusual for him. Dean wanted to make sure that he was fine, so he shook him a little. Still, no response. Dean looked around the room when his eyes fell on the orange bottle on the bedside. Normally, Dean would have gone to bed, but the bottle was empty. Dean knew that the pills hadn't fallen onto the floor.

"SAM!" He yelled rushing to his brother's head. As before, Sam didn't stir. His brow was knitted tightly together. Dean checked for breathing, giving a cry when he could only find the seldom strangled breath.

"Shitshitshit, Sammy…" He moved two fingers up to his brother's throat.

He felt a weak pulse.

Dean carried Sam to the bathroom, frowning at how little he weighed considering how much he had grown lately. He couldn't blame him for losing his appetite so often though. He couldn't blame Sam for anything.

Dean stuck his fingers down his little brothers throat letting the puke rise up. He didn't care how gross it was, he needed the pills out. He needed Sammy back.

He continued checking for a pulse during the process of making his brother vomit. His hands shook so much and tears clouded his eyes, so it was hard to do so. He took deep breaths, steadying himself. Sam's pulse was still weak, but at least he was breathing somewhat normally. He continued letting the bile rise until he was sure that the pills were gone. He knew a few would still be there, but it wasn't life-threatening matter anymore.

"Dean?" Sam slurred, his eyes unfocused at the dark blur he could only hope was his brother. But how could it have been Dean? Dean had left. Gone. Then who was it whose scent was so familiar? Sam's vision cleared a little. It was Dean. Dean held him tight, just like Jessica had done but more protectively. He dug his head in Sam's shirt. His crying became uncontrollable. Dean couldn't stop the streaming tears. Sam clutched the back of his shirt, pressing his own eyes together in realization of what just had happened. Dean held Sam tighter, but not enough to hurt him. Dean stroked the younger siblings hair.

"I'm so sorry," Sam rasped after a moment.

Dean continued to cry.

Sam continued to feel guilty as fuck.

Dean continued blaming himself.

The sobbing continued.

"Why?" Dean managed to get out through choked tears. He was surprised that Sam could hear him.

"I just wanted out." An earnest answer.

Dean's heart dropped.

Silence.

"I'm so so fucking sorry, Sammy," Dean said not caring that he broke down in front of his little brother. He couldn't care less. All he cared about, all he wanted in this damn world, was Sam to feel better. To feel happy.

"Why?" Sam slurred, confused.

"It's my fault, oh god, it's my fucking fault, Sammy," Sam shook his head vigorously, which hurt like hell, but Dean continued. "I should never have left. I should have realized what was going on. I should have asked how you were doing more often. To think that I saw your scars six days ago. Sammy, they looked so old. I should have… I'm so sorry. Holy shit. Just, god, Sammy, just don't blame yourself, ever."

Sam sniffled, bringing himself together.

"You shouldn't either, Dean. Really, none of this shit was your fault," Sam mumbled into Dean's shoulder.

The Winchesters sat on the cold tile floor for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was hours. Sam nor Dean had concept of time in that moment.

When they came out of the tiny room, it was still dark out.

Sam silently cried for a bit more, letting the tears roll onto his already sticky face. Dean cried too, but louder. They were a sobbing mess.

Dean watched as Sam fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. The older brother woke several times during the last hours of the night, checking if Sam was alright.

It was nine am when Dean fully rose from his bed. He yawned and checked on his little brother for what seemed like the hundredth time. Maybe it was the hundredth time, he had lost count hours ago. He felt the heavy breathing and drastically stronger pulse. Dean was about to turn on the television when he noticed a piece of paper sticking out from beneath Sam's bed. It was the note he had left for Sam. He wondered how and when it had ended up there, and if Sam had even seen it.

A/N: Thank you for reading!