AN: I was under the impression that people didn't relly care for this story, so that is the reason for the lack of updates, actually, I was tempted to just mark it as complete. However, janurarysunshine13 reminded me that there are some that do like it. So for those who are interested, here you go.
Throwing up was never on Dean's 'to do' list. It was too much loss of control for him, but ever since his return from Hell, his body seemed to like to do a lot of it. Throwing up seemed to be the only way his body could purge after the horrific dreams he had. What was worse was that he hardly ate anymore, so all that was left was bile, and whatever alcohol he had consumed. And that always tasted oh so pretty.
Hanna quit knocking when she heard her brother throwing up. She simply walked in, wet a wash cloth and put it on the back of his neck. He tried to shoo her off, and she wouldn't allow it, she insisted he receive some form of comfort.
"Hannah it's okay. I'm fine." He said. She sighed and pushed his hands away and pressed the cloth against the back of his neck.
They sat there like that for a little bit, and Hannah noted that he eventually relaxed a little. "Where's Sam?" he asked. Hannah bit her lip. She knew where Sam was. Well, she knew who Sam was with, and she wasn't sure if that was something that Dean should know, because, well, she'd promised not to tell Sam that Dean was remembering Hell in violent living color. So, she didn't know what to do.
"You make me keep secrets from him. So I'm going to keep his secrets."
"But his secrets might get him killed." Dean said and tried to stand, got woozy, and sat back down.
"And so might yours."
"It's not the same and you know it Hannah! He's doing things out there that can change him, and take our Sammy away from us."
"He's not our Sammy anymore anyway Dean. Your death changed him."
Dean sighed and he knew that she was right, and he was too weak to argue with her, too tired to admit out loud that she was right, and too at a loss to know what to do to fix his little brother. She sat down next to him on the disgusting floor, rested her head on his shoulder, she knew that this was the only way she would be able to cuddle with her brother, if she was the one who appeared to need the close contact. Hell had changed a lot of things about her brother, but the need to never admit weakness hadn't been altered in the least. She sat like that until Dean fell asleep. Then she disentangled herself from her brother, and went into the other room, pulled the blankets off of his bed, and his pillow and made a nest for Dean to sleep in. It took every ounce of strength she had, but she managed to maneuver him onto the nest of blankets and just as she was about to hunker down with him, to wait out the night and wake him when his dreams were too bad, she heard the lock, and the door, and she stood up and starred at Sam, who was just coming back from his escapades with Ruby.
"Don't look at me that way Hannah. I have to do this. I have to help Dean….this is the only way I can." She didn't say anything, she simply crossed her arms and starred at him.
"What? What do you want from me Hannah?" He caught a glimpse of the bed behind her, noted that Dean wasn't in it and his eyes went wild. "Where's Dean?" He demanded. Hannah said nothing. Simply starred at him. He came closer to her and demanded the same information, and she again stayed silent.
"Hannah! Tell me where Dean is!"
She licked her lips and sighed. "He's in the bathroom. He threw up everything he ate, again, and he's sleeping on the blankets in there."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"Why bother? You never answer." She said and went into the bathroom and again tried to get settled next to her big brother.
"Let me pick him up and put him into bed."
"You going to clean up his vomit?"
"Hannah…what's wrong with him?"
"I keep your secrets, and I'll keep his." She said and hunkered down next to her older brother. "I love you Sam." She said never letting her anger get in the way of telling those she loved most how she felt.
"I love you too Hannah." Sam said defeated. He shrugged off his coat, sat down on his bed and ran his hands through his hair. He really and truly was trying to do what was best, what only he could do. He had to protect what was left of his family, even if that cost his soul.
He looked towards the bathroom one more time and sighed. They had no idea, they judged him, but he was doing it for them, doing it to protect the world. If it meant that they hated him, but that was okay, as long as they were alive to hate him. That was all that mattered, that they weren't dead, that they weren't suffering.
He lay down on the bed and tried to sleep, but instead, simply listened for his brother's screams, and Hannah's gentle reassurances that everything was okay, that he was safe, that Sammy was in the room, he was fine, and he was okay.
Everything wasn't okay.