Disclaimer: These boys do not belong to me; they belong to the genius that is Eric kripke. I promise not to try to sell it on Amazon, lol.
Okay, done with the next chapter. Thank you all for the reviews. Hope you're enjoying this story. I promise, what this and last chapter are about will be explained in the next chapters. It's not OOC, it's just part of the story. Bear with me. I hope that you enjoy this chapter.
Sam walked into the motel, knowing that his brother was watching him. A deep sense of melancholy fell over everything, including himself. They would be fine when he was gone. His father would make sure that Dean was fine. He went into the bathroom, and gently closed the door behind him. Every little noise seemed to pierce his soul, and he felt detached from his body. Silently, he turned on the tap and brought water up to his face to cool and soothe. His eyes hurt so much, exhausted from the strain. Knocking came from the other side of the door. "Hey, you gonna change when you get out of the shower?" His brother's voice boomed through the door.
He stuck his head out for a moment. Dean was standing there with a pair of sweats in hand. "Thanks, man." He said, taking the clothes before disappearing behind the door again. As an afterthought, he locked the door. His brother would still be able to make his way in, but it would take a whole lot more effort. Turning and standing in front of the mirror again, he stood, staring at his reflection for a moment. This wasn't him anymore. Something else had taken over his life, and left him empty. His medicine, the life-saving pills that were supposed to keep him from getting sick again, had been left in here this morning. He picked up the four bottles, and eyed them for a minute. This was it, this was his one saving grace. It was the only way that anything would be right.
Slowly screwing the tops off of the pills, he stood and looked at the pills. Little, orange, round pills, and he scooped water from the tap into his mouth to chase down the fifty pills that were supposed to last him a month. Little white pills that looked like tiny aspirin, and he scooped the water into his mouth. Guilt began to gnaw at him. He knew that this was wrong, that he should not be doing this, but something was driving him, almost moving his hand for him. Dusty red ovals, and he scooped the water into his mouth. There was no turning back. He had swallowed more than one hundred pills. Finally, little blue pills with holes in the middle, and he scooped the water into his mouth. There was an off-taste in his mouth, worse than when he usually took the medicine, and he slid to the floor next to the tub to wait.
The fact that they had not eaten since breakfast helped the process of digesting the pills move quicker. This would hurt Dean; he knew this would hurt Dean. He hadn't thought it through. There was no way to disguise this one, no way to make it look like an accident. Dean would find the body, on the other side of the locked door, and be devastated. It was too late now; all of the previous thoughts, the emotions that had made him take this desperate step, fled from his mind, but it was too late. He felt weak, was getting weaker by the moment as he laid here now. Sitting had hurt too much, and now he laid flat on his back to stop the dizziness. He was so tired, and he closed his eyes, breath coming in harsh gasps. The choice had already been made, and it was the wrong one.
Dean was probably right outside the door, and if he gathered his strength, he could yell loud enough for his brother to hear him. He didn't though, because something was stopping him, telling him that this was right, and on the surface right now, he believed it. Even as he grew weaker, he knew that his brother would be better off without him. Their father would come back and together they would find the thing that killed his mother. He was scared, though. It wasn't what he had expected. In his mind, he imagined himself just going to sleep, but he felt everything. He felt his heart fluttering in his chest, making it harder to breathe.
"Dean..." He whispered, his voice coming out as a quiet croak. 'Please Dean, I need help.' His nose was bleeding now, and he felt the blood dripping down his face. Blood that he was too weak to wipe away. It made him cold, and he shivered, wishing for all the world for the quilt that had kept him warm when he thought he was going to die last time. He wanted the comfort from the quilt, but more importantly, from his brother.
"Dean," He tried again, this time a little louder. His voice wouldn't reach. Looking up, he saw the bottles sitting on the counter of the sink, tipped over and rolling on the tilting sink. Quietly, he started to laugh, letting it turn into a weak but hysterical laugh. It had happened; all the things in his visions from the last couple of days, and he's ignored it. Tears fell from the side of his eyes, and he sobbed. God help him, he ignored it.
"Dean, please help me." He tried again, before his eyes slid shut and he passed out. The poison moved freely through his blood now, and Dean stood on the other side of the door, oblivious to what was happening.
Hoped you enjoyed this chapter; I already have the next chapter mostly written, so it should be up in the next few days. Please feel free to comment any way that you would like, whether it be praise, constructive criticism or question. Just keep the flames to a minimum :)