I was in such a rush publishing I forgot to react to reviews! Will do next time.


A/N TW mentions of teen depression and suicide. Not graphic but mentioned.


Dean drove all night. The sun had just risen when he pulled into the driveway. He fished for his key to Bobby's and unlocked the front door, finding the older gentleman standing on the other side.

"Thought I heard you pulling up," he said, turning down the entryway to the kitchen. Dean entered the house and followed.

"Where is he?" he asked. Bobby got down two mugs and poured coffee into both of them.

"Asleep," Bobby answered, handing a mug off to Dean, "and he better stay that way." He side-eyed Dean, waiting for signs of him bolting upstairs to stop him. He was surprised when Dean instead accepted the coffee and sat down at the table. "What did you tell your old man?"

Dean scoffed. "Does it matter? He knew it was bullshit."

Bobby shrugged and sat across the table from Dean. "You tell him it was Sam?"

Dean bit his lip. "Hunt turned out to be an easy salt and burn. He didn't need me for that and he knew it."

"That doesn't sound like him. If he knew he could take care of it himself, he wouldn't have called you to join him a whole state away."

"He seemed different. Like, now that I'm eighteen, he has total freedom to control me however he wants without anyone getting in the way."

"You know that's not true, right? You have the right to say no to him."

Dean sipped his coffee. The two sat in the kitchen in silence. The sun rose a little more and soon the two could hear the wildlife outside start to wake up.

"Better go check on Sammy," Dean mumbled, tossing his empty mug in the sink. Bobby grunted in agreement. The two made their way upstairs, standing in the doorway as Bobby slowly opened the bedroom door. A sleeping Sam was curled up in the corner where his bed met the walls. The room was slightly cool so he had the blankets pulled up to his chin. He looked so small.

Dean stepped into the bedroom and made his way to Sam. He gently brushed Sam's hair to the side, making a note that it was time for yet another barbershop visit. Thanks to Dean's touch, Sam slowly started to come out of sleep and blink his eyes open.

"Hey little man," Dean greeted.

"Dean?" Sam mumbled, rolling over onto his other side. "What are you doing?"

"Just checking up on ya."

"No, I mean what are you doing here?" Sam asked, sounding particularly annoyed. "You're supposed to be with Dad!"

"Sam." Bobby reprimanded, not caring for his tone towards his brother.

Dean turned to face the older man. "It's alright Bobby," he assured. He turned back towards Sam and smirked. "Sam's just grumpy when he wakes up."

Something about that just absolutely ticked Sam off. "I am NOT!" he screamed, rising to his knees and shoving Dean. Dean, completely unaware Sam would do such a thing, fell backward onto his bed, landing on his wrist awkwardly and wincing in pain right away.

"That is enough!" Bobby said, rushing over and grabbing Sam. "The hell is wrong with you, boy?"

Sam managed to wiggle himself free and slip past the both of them. He ran down the hall to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. He paced around in the small room, desperate to get rid of this icky feeling he had. He was mad, but he had no reason to be mad. And he wanted to hit something again, but he wasn't someone who hit when he got frustrated anyway. After convincing himself he had burned a hole in Bobby's floor, Sam suddenly started to hyperventilate and sob. He collapsed on the floor between the bathtub and toilet and curled into himself.

As he rocked back and forth, Sam failed to notice the shuffling sound on the other side of the door. "Sammy?" The doorknob began to jiggle, then stopped abruptly. "We'll be downstairs, okay kiddo?"


Dean sat at the kitchen table with a bag of frozen peas on his hand and another cup of coffee in the other. If he was going to help figure out what was going on with Sam, he needed to be caffeinated enough to do so.

"Alright," Bobby said, coming into the room with some supplies, "hopefully this does the trick until we can get the actual first aid kit from the upstairs bathroom."

Dean winced again as Bobby removed the bag of frozen peas off his wrist. It was starting to turn purple and hurt like a bitch to move.

"Please god, tell me it's not broken."

Bobby snorted. Both these boys could be so dramatic sometimes. "Luckily, ya landed on the mattress." He opened a bottle of Ibuprofen and handed two pills to Dean, as he was incapable of doing so himself at the moment.

Dean popped the pills and chased them with a large gulp of coffee.

Bobby proceeded to take a piece of scrap fabric he found and wrapped it tightly around Dean's wrist.

"Hopefully ya don't need your right hand for much the next few days," Bobby commented once he had finished. He tossed the peas back in the freezer for later and cleaned up the rest of the mess.

"What are we going to do?"

"Pills, ice, elevation-"

"Not about my wrist!"

Bobby sighed. He sat back down at the table next to Dean. "I called a buddy of mine."

"Who?"

"Can't say. I met him at AA about a decade ago."

"You went to AA?"

Bobby snorted. "Court mandated."

Dean smirked. Of course.

"Anyway, he had a kid not much older than Sam is now. When his kid was fifteen, he offed himself. That's how he started drinking and ended up in the same place I was."

"What does this have to do with Sam?"

Bobby leaned in close. "Cause Sam has a lot of the same signs as his kid."

Dean was hurt. "That's not what's happening," he said quickly.

"Dean-"

"No!" Dean screamed, rising from the table. "It can't be! I mean, Sam's not-" he stopped to quiet himself down in case Sam happened to be listening. "Sam's not, like, doing anything to himself, is he?" he whispered.

Bobby shrugged. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know!?" Dean asked, starting to panic.

Bobby walked over to Dean and put his hand on his shoulder. "I mean, I don't know what we need to watch out for. That's why I called him! To see if he could tell us anything so we could help Sam."

"So what did he say?"

Bobby sighed. "Pretty much the obvious. Hiding away, mood changes, issues at school, acting out, inappropriate relationships-"

"Whoa. Inappropriate relationships?"

Bobby sighed again. "You know he has a crush on your coworker, right?"

Dean was shocked. "DANI?"

"You know, for someone who knows his brother like the back of his hand, you sure miss a lot."

That stung. "Well, clearly. Sam's been acting like this for weeks! Months even! All this time I thought he was just being-" Dean had to stop talking. Thirteen. He thought Sam was just being a shit-headed, snot-nosed, stubborn and emotional as all hell thirteen-year-old. "Where do we even start?" he asked, wiping his eyes with his thumb.

"We tell him we're here for him and that we'll do what we can do he's not hurting anymore."

Dean let everything sink in. Hurting. His little brother has been hurting this whole time and he didn't even know. How many signs did he miss? Why didn't Sam say anything? Does anyone else know?

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by Bobby pulling him into a hug.

"We'll fix him, alright?" Bobby whispered in Dean's ear.

Dean nodded against Bobby's shoulder.


Once everyone had calmed down, Dean unloaded his things from the trunk of the Impala. Bobby helped, given that Dean only had one hand for now.

Dean was cautious opening the bedroom door, bracing himself for another lash out from Sam. Instead, he found Sam lying on his stomach reading a book.

The two had an awkward moment of eye contact.

"Can I put my stuff away?" Dean finally asked. Sam nodded slowly and turned back to his book.

Dean awkwardly placed his bag on the bed and began to rummage through, tossing clothes in the closet and dresser drawers.

Sam couldn't help but notice his brother struggling and watched. He was shocked to see Bobby's makeshift wrist splint and felt sick.

"Is... Was that... Did I..."

Dean noticed his brother struggling to form words. "No, uh, I hurt it on the hunt."

Liar. Sam recognized the old shop rag.

Dean finished unpacking. "We're gonna start a movie in a bit if you want to join?" he offered.

Sam felt guilty as sin. "I'm sorry," he said, barely getting the words out.

"For what?" Dean asked, crossing back over and sitting on Sam's bed.

"Just sorry."

Dean reached out and grabbed one of Sam's hands. "Me too."


someones-big-sister