Karoshi:

AN: Ka-rou-shi is a Japanese word that means "overwork death"

Many times in their lives Dean had watched Sam spiral out of control. It was as if Dean were juggling Sam's fine china bones, wondering which one would slip through his fingers and break. A leg or an arm could maybe be afforded, but to break his backbone, his undying will? Dean was terrified that one day that would happen, but then he was also terrified it was impossible.

For if Sam's will could not be broken, there would be no corresponding melting down. And if he could not meltdown, his torture truly was forever. Sometimes, dare he say, Dean wished his brother would break so that he could pick his pieces up for him. So that he could keep him from hurting himself anymore.

Dean was almost instantly aware that Sam was hiding signs of intense exhaustion. He'd tried to coax him off to bed several times over the last few days, sometimes falling asleep in a chair or on the couch waiting for him. He'd also gently tried to make him eat something.

"You're not going to be able to keep going like this." Dean leaned next to Sam's ear late at night. He'd brought him a small bowl of soup. Honestly, he was afraid to feed him something more wholesome-he hadn't seen him eat in a week and was afraid hearty food would make him sick. Sam looked sidelong at him and smiled.

"Oh, thanks. Here, I'll set it here." Sam patted Dean's hand as if to reassure him.

"Did you go on those two hours of sleep you were talking about?" Dean frowned. Sam's eyes were crossing over his research and half a dozen other reports he'd typed up from his little army's activities. He rubbed a hand over his face and looked at Dean like he just realized he was here.

"Hey, buddy...Thanks for the soup." Sam placed his palm over Dean's heart for a second, letting his eyes flash over him, visibly relieved that he was with him again. Dean sighed, knowing then that the Venus flytrap of Sam's mind had been too focused on whatever he was doing in this library office to have heard what he said. He reached around Sam and hugged him from behind, letting his hands rest on his collarbone. Sam went on flipping through the pictures one of his hands rubbing Dean's shaking wrist.

Dean stayed there for a long while. More than 10 minutes. He held his breath for a while and then laid his face in Sam's hair. Sam barely noticed the duration of time Dean held him, so absorbed he was in his work.

"I know you 're not hearing a word I'm saying...As tired as you are, as much as you're working, but...I really wish you'd eat. You're starting to scare me." Dean muttered it into Sam's ear feeling his brother press his hand closer as his free hand fretted with Dean's fingers subconsciously seeking rest in Dean's touch.

"At this rate, we're never gonna find Michael. Got to pick up the pace! Oh, and then...Let's see there's a book with spells in it from the lost collections in the old vault next to our dungeon. Remind me to check that later see if we can heal Jack with it…"Sam was chattering, thumb having curled between Dean's fingers and rubbing against his palm.

"Mm, okay, but maybe you should take like a 15-minute break first and eat your soup…"Dean swallowed. In the past, he'd have been aggressive. Snapped at Sam and made a scene until he'd done as he'd asked him to. But after Michael, Dean was so broken inside himself that he'd retreated into his own skin a bit. He felt like he was trapped under a hundred concrete blocks and couldn't bust out to shake Sam and make him care for himself better.

Dean closed his eyes and remembered the last time Sam's exhaustion got the better of him. It had happened 7 years ago when Lucifer's lingering presence would not let him go. Oh, how he'd tried to help him then, to almost no avail.

"Sammy, really, red eye is not a healthy meal replacer…" Dean watched Sam come back with the 12th coffee he'd bought today. Sam held up a stack of bills.

"Mm, I'm part of a reward program. Buy six get the seventh free? Hey, you know we should probably stow the car we've been driving. I think I saw a camera on the way into this park." Sam looked over his shoulder. At 29, his eyes said he was 50. Dean felt a little cry go up into his throat. He reached over to Sam, grabbing his shirt.

"What?" Sam swallowed.

"Is he bothering you now?" Dean cleared his throat, glaring down a guy at the coffee kiosk who was looking at them like they were a couple.

"The Devil...yeah, he always is. Why?" Sam smiled. Dean let out a gasp.

"The black around your eyes has got you looking like a raccoon. Why don't you try to take a little power nap? You know coffee doesn't work anymore after a few rounds." Dean shook his head. Sam frowned.

"How'm I supposed to take a power nap, Dean? With the Devil singing Def Leppard in my brain? Maybe I could just try to brainstorm Leviathan slaying battle plans instead." Sam laughed, cringing.

Dean nodded and then, he sat on the state park table. He reached his arms out. Sam's brows twisted, confused.

"Look, chicka, I'm not gonna make a big girly scene. I think maybe if I help you-you can afford 15 minutes. That's like half a wink, right?" Dean swallowed. Sam looked at the coffee he'd sucked dry.

"What? Hug therapy is the new Ambien?" Sam laughed.

"Not sure. But when you were little, you took naps on my knee all the time. Come on, you can't tell me you don't remember the Bus Stop Sleep Exchange? Whichever one of us was more groggy in the morning used the other as a napping accountability partner until the school bus showed up. Ring a bell? Maybe it's been 20 years, but it's worth a shot, right?" Dean frowned.

Sam's eyes were so hungry for rest, he didn't ask any more questions. He just bowed over the table and laid his head in Dean's lap. Dean let a soft breath through his nostrils and put his hand in Sam's hair.

"Goodnight, princess…Also, forgive me, but that's not a pea under your pillow, it's a quarter in my pocket." Dean hissed a soft little teasing sound. Sam's fingers curled in Dean's belt like he was trying to ward off the devil by clinging to the part of Dean's clothes that were nearest his gun.

He'd closed his eyes, but no sleep came. Dean could feel him pretending to sleep, and trying to with the greatest force of will as if he could control it. Dean felt a shudder go through him knowing Sam had even acted like he'd been asleep by sitting up with an affected yawn. They both knew that maybe the tension headache at least had been somewhat eased by Dean's anxious fingers.

Dean snapped out of it realizing he'd been holding Sam for a solid 20 minutes when he looked down at Sam's laptop screen. Sam was oblivious to it and the soup had grown cold.

"Ahem, can I help with anything?" If Sam wouldn't sleep, Dean wouldn't either. If little brother was going to die from overwork, then so would Dean. He couldn't bear to watch him unravel on his own again, unravel though he was determined to do. Dean let his hand slide up to resting over his brother's lips in a sort of gentle gag pose. It was enough to jar Sam's attention and Dean let his hands slide away from him as he sat down next to him in the pile of papers.

"Um, oh, hi? How long have you been here? Sorry, I thought I heard you talking to me but…"Sam swallowed and Dean laughed nervously. Was Sam so tired that he didn't even notice Dean had just been clinging to him for dear life?

"Wait? Oh, you've been here for a while! I'm sorry...I was I wasn't completely ignoring you on purpose...And you brought me food and I didn't eat it…"The placating apologies started when Sam saw the soup.

"That's okay...Look here. Are you hungry? I can go heat that up again." Dean nodded. Sam gasped.

"Um, oh wow! I haven't eaten since Wednesday!" Sam frowned. Dean let out a gasp of relief when their eyes met at last.

"Want me to heat it up? Think we have some crackers too…"Dean swallowed, hopeful.

"Please? I'm...I'm sorry, Dean. You look exhausted." Sam frowned. Dean gasped, trying not to snap at him. HE looked exhausted? What about Sam?!

This time when Dean brought the soup back, Sam reached for it eagerly. But he nearly spilled it on himself, with hunger ridden hands now shaking like old cameras. Dean gently batted Sam's hands away and pulled out a napkin.

"Let me…" Dean looked around. No one was here to notice. Sam's eyes went wide.

"Look, you're about to keel over. Let me." Dean nodded. Sam smiled and then he slid forward nearly falling out of the seat. Dean pushed a chair close and wrapped the napkin around Sam. He spooned half the bowl of soup into his brother's mouth before he fell asleep in it.

"Oh my God!" Dean shook his head, lifting Sam out of the soup and wiping his face clean. He then proceeded to lay him down in his lap and set the soup bowl aside. With Sam there on his knees and his hands-free, he reached over to the table and started sorting papers and command reports and all the like of crazy Sam had sacrificed health for.

"Our lives, man. Our freaking lives are literally like some kind of Satanic washing machine, putting patterns on a spin cycle." Dean finished cleaning up and started combing through some of Sam's research himself hoping to help him.

Dean fell asleep an hour later but then jarred awake. Sam had let out a little groan as his alarm clock said it was time to get back to work.

"M-maybe you should not...not go back right now?" Dean took Sam by his shirt as he sat up in his arms.

"Huh? I..I need to…" Sam's eyes crossed. Dean opened his mouth to say something when the little army came storming in, apparently with all their alarms going off at the same time.

"I'll be okay, really. Thank you." Sam smiled bravely at Dean, face reflecting the same soldiering smiles that had graced his dying face in the psychiatric ward he'd landed in after his Wall came down. Dean let out a little gasp and stood up with Sam, hands shaking as his brother walked into the center of the group to answer their instant questions.

I can't...I can't watch this again. God, please….Hasn't he had enough already?!