Hey guys, hope your holidays are going well!!! Sorry this one took so long, I went straight from my last final to my sister's house in Boston, then to my other sister's place in New Hampshire, then to my parents with my brother… So this has kind of been a hectic time.
Now there was only supposed to be one more chapter to this, but it kind of took on a life of its own, and has now forced my muse on a different track. I swear it's got her at pen point…
So now that I officially have no idea where this is going (well maybe just a little clue as to its track)… I hope you all still follow this story with me…
Happy Reading.
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'I will sacrifice
I will sacrifice
All I have in life
To clear my conscience'
Tatu – Sacrifice
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"Eat, Samantha, we don't need you getting sick again." Sam scowled and kept moving the burger he had torn apart around the plate with his fork. The fries had been demolished first, Sam's stomach too queasy to even think about the prospect of eating anything.
"Not hungry." He mumbled, not even bothering to put any fight into his words.
Truthfully, Sam hadn't been hungry since he had woken two days before, only forcing down food when Dean got on his case. This time though, he wasn't sure if he could force himself to eat anything without bringing it back up.
Not to mention the ever spiking headache, that hadn't dulled in the least since he had exorcized Samhain. The nosebleeds that he had been hiding from Dean also couldn't have been a good sign.
Little bursts of telekinesis had also been forcing themselves out of his body, bringing with them fresh spikes of pain throughout his body.
His time before with Ruby hadn't left him this way, and Sam was left wondering just what had been different this time. His body and his mind were obviously changing, and something had happened that made it more difficult for him to use his powers.
That same something had also been letting his powers loose without his permission and with pain to accompany them.
The only thing that he could think of that had changed since he had exorcized the other demon was Dean being there.
Dean hadn't been there the first time Sam had gone down after exorcizing a powerful demon, only Ruby had known, only she had helped him through it. That part at least had been his fault, ignoring calls from Joshua, Bobby, and any other hunter that had called to help or give him their condolences about Dean.
It had gotten so bad that Sam had thrown his phone up against a wall one day, and the wall had won, his phone shattering to pieces. He had left it in the motel room he had been staying at, not wanting anything to do with it, and not wanting someone to be able to track him from the SIM chip or the number.
He knew Dean's number well enough that he could dial it without his contact list, just to hear the reassuring tone of his voice on his older brother's voicemail.
But then again, maybe it wasn't Dean that was making this time so much worse than the time before. Maybe his powers were changing, getting stronger.
Maybe he was like a light bulb or a star, burning its brightest before it went out.
Either way, Sam didn't know what was happening, and that scared him.
"Hey," Dean said, laying a hand on his shoulder, effectively drawing him from the past. "Where'd you go little brother?" Dean asked with a laugh, but Sam could hear and see the undertone of worry.
"Nowhere, just thinking." Sam said, and then with a smirk added, "It's a lot more interesting in my thoughts than here with you." Dean looked appropriately affronted and Sam chuckled, trying to ignore the way the motion made the pain worsen.
"I try to be nice, and this is the thanks I get?" Dean waved his hands around Sam's direction, sarcasm dripping from every word, but Sam saw his brother's eyes lighten, probably figuring that if Sam was making fun of him, then everything was okay.
"You opened yourself right up for that one," Sam laughed, again holding back a wince when the motion spiked pain through his head and worsened the nausea.
"Yeah," Dean snarked back, running his eyes over Sam in a cursory glance before looking back to his own meal. Just the smell of the chili cheese fries made Sam want to vomit.
Sam smiled, and Dean only caught the quirk of lips on a glance, not noticing that the smile didn't reach Sam's eyes. He smiled and turned his attention back to his meal and scanned over the paper splayed in front of him.
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Later when they were in the motel room, with Sam laying on the bed, an arm thrown across his eyes to block out the residual light from the computer, Dean watched his brother from his position at the little table near the bathroom.
He had seen how Sam had been deteriorating over the past few days, and it scared him to see his little brother that way. He had been debating on whether or not to take Sam in to a doctor, but the one time he had tried to voice that opinion, Sam had immediately shot it down.
He just didn't know what to do.
Sam wasn't acting like he had before Dean had gone to hell, he was more likely to keep things cooped inside than to go all emo now. That little detail made the whole big brother thing that much harder, and though Dean had only been back for just over a month and a half, he was at his wit's end with Sam.
"Hey Sammy, you hungry?" He asked after looking at the clock and finding it close to six thirty at night, and knowing that even though they had eaten lunch a little after one that afternoon, Sam hadn't eaten enough in the last few days to keep a man half his size alive.
"No," the plaintive groan was muffled by the arm over his face, but Dean could hear the underlying tension in Sam's voice that usually meant a headache and a bad one at that.
God, when will he get a break?
Dean sighed and scrubbed a calloused hand over his face. "Sam," he warned, the only warning that Sam would get. Dean was in full I'm-older-and-you-will-listen-to-me mode.
"No, Dean." Sam said softly, lifting his arm off his face and using it along with his other to prop himself up on his elbows, facing Dean. "I don't think you get the fact that I'm not choosing not to eat, I just can't keep anything down." His voice caught and broke on the last word, and Dean was immediately up and moving toward him.
"What's wrong?" Dean asked, settling on the side of the bed beside Sam.
Sam turned to look up at him, his overgrown puppy of a brother looking for all the world like someone had kicked him. Dean wanted to kick them back, harder and if possible leaving a reminder to make sure it didn't happen again.
"I don't know." The three words seem to break Sam.
"Hey-hey, it's okay, now just tell me what's going on with you." He reached out and squeezed Sam's shoulder for emphasis and comfort. Before he had died in May, Dean wouldn't have shown this kind of chick-flick-iness, but then again before he had gone to hell, Sam hadn't been this closed off, and he hadn't needed this kind of show of affection.
He hadn't needed this much coercion to talk before, to tell Dean what was wrong or going on in general.
It unnerved Dean how much his brother had changed in those four months.
Sam jerked, drawing Dean from his thoughts, and resettling his attention on his brother. Sam's face had gone from puppy pout to drawn and pinched in the short time Dean had been thinking.
"Sammy?" Dean asked, jumping a little when Sam jerked again and a thin trickle of blood spilled from his nose and over his lips to drip off his chin, staining the gray tee he was wearing. "Sam, what's wrong?" Dean asked, turning and moving his hands so they hovered over his little brother, in uncertainty.
When Sam jerked again, that uncertainty fled and Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders, shaking him a little when Sam didn't even open his eyes to look at him.
"Sam, c'mon little brother, what's wrong?" Not knowing what to do, Dean reached for his phone, intent on calling Bobby or the hospital, or someone! As soon as he picked up the phone, Sam jerked again and the little phone flew from Dean's hand and into the puke colored wall across the room.
Well that's a new one. Dean thought, looking at the shattered pieces of his phone and then back to his brother, who jerked again and everything on the table next to the bed jumped.
The jerks accompanied by various moving and jumping objects and furniture continued for the next few minutes, and Dean debated on whether or not to knock Sam out, not knowing the ramifications the move would have. But when Sam jerked harder a couple minutes later and all the lights shattered, the decision was made and Dean pulled back a fist and swung, catching Sam's jaw and rendering him unconscious almost instantly.
The lines of pain creasing around Sam's mouth and around his eyes stayed but his forehead smoothed and the tension in his body eased.
Not knowing what else to do, Dean reached in Sam's pocket and drew out his little brother's phone, dialing a familiar number, before putting the phone to his ear and waiting.
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A/N: Can you guess who he's calling???
You all probably hate me now huh? I swear I didn't want to end it here, but my muse revolted and made me.
So uh, let me know what you think and whether I should continue with this story.
Take care and review often,
DS