Sammy finally passed out. Finally. It was such a relief when his body went quiet and the shaking, the noise, the slobbering, stopped. Watching my baby brother suffer like that, having to hold him down, having to put Bobby's belt in his mouth so he wouldn't bite his tongue, all of that was horrible. Devastating to watch. Devastating to be a part of.

I asked Bobby to leave once he fell into unconsciousness. I wanted to be the one who strapped down my brother. I wanted to be the one to take care of the mess I made. Yes, there is no denying it. I am the sole reason for all of this, I am the one who made my brother turn into this thing. I'm the one who failed.

"I'm sorry about this Sammy." I said softly as I wrapped Bobby's grey washcloths around my brother's wrists. "You shouldn't be the one to suffer for this." I fastened tape to the washcloth and then slowly, ever so slowly clicked the handcuffs shut. "I'm sorry." I mumbled to my unconscious brother.

"You were right, what was it? Almost two years ago now? When you told me that I was selfish, and a hypocrite for bringing you back to life." I liked my lips trying not to cry, I was sick of crying, so sick of feeling sorry for myself, so sick of my baby brother trying to take over, trying to be me, trying to be something that he's not…trying to protect me. "You aren't the one that should be protecting me. You know that right? You keep saying that you are doing this for me, for revenge, because Lilith sent me to hell." I pulled up his socks, I remembered doing that all of those years ago, when he was headed to school and was in a hurry, and his socks would be bunched down around his shoes because he had slept in them and just thrown shoes on over top, because he was late, we were always running late. I slowly affixed the handcuffs to his ankle.

"But you do know that right Sammy. I can protect myself. I'm the one who gets myself into these messes, not you. You shouldn't be the one who has to sacrifice your soul to fix what I've done. You shouldn't. It's not right." I moved to the other ankle and began pulling up that sock. "You really got big while I was gone. You know that right? I mean, when I left, yeah, sure, you were tall, been tall ever since you were 16, God you just shot right up." I shook my head. "But you got big. Really big. Is that the demon blood? Will you become a little puny nothing if you quit getting your demon blood? Will the outside reflect what you've done to yourself on the outside? God Sammy, you really have done a number to yourself."

I picked up the towel and dipped it into the water that Bobby left me, and I began to gently wipe his face clean. The first order of business was to wipe away the blood on the corner of his mouth. We didn't get the belt in there soon enough; he still managed to hurt himself. "Bet you never thought you'd have Bobby's belt in your mouth did ya? Kinda gross isn't it? I wasn't thinking though, I was just panicked, and I just froze, I watched you flopping all over the floor, your hands were grabbing for me, well they could have been I don't know, but your eyes were just rolled up in the back of your head." I run a hand through my hair, it's long, longer than it's been in years, I just haven't thought about cutting it, haven't worried about it, my heads been in other things, been too far up my own ass, to worried about Sam going darkside, and I've just been so tired, utterly exhausted.

"Bobby had to yell at me to focus on helping you, I was just so stunned, Sammy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I don't know how to help you. I'm sorry that I'm hurting you. I don't know what to do Sammy. Usually when something like this is bothering me, I ask you. You are usually the one who is rational about these things, can see the step by step of the situation, can fix it. But you aren't here to fix it anymore Sammy. You really aren't. God, you've hardly been sick your whole life. Healthy as a horse, get thrown into a wall, sure you bruise, but hell you're back on your feet again in no time. If the demon blood has given you that, then that I will be thankful for." I wipe the sweat from my brother's face. I put my hand on his chest, his heart is beating steadily, rhythmically, just like it always has, feels the same way it did when he was little, strong and steady. Don't know how many times I've been like this, my hand on his chest, just making sure he is breathing, making sure his heart is beating. For some reason, however, this time feels like it might be the last.

"I promised I would serve God today. I promised because I don't want you to have to keep doing this. But, what do I do to make you feel better? I mean, how do we make sure that this state isn't permanent? Make you better? What would work? Bobby thinks that we should just allow you demon blood. What would you have said a year ago? What would you have said?" I rubbed my eyes. "What would you want me to do Sammy? I mean the real you. What would you want me to do? Sammy I'm scared." I put my elbows on my knees and starred at my brother. I closed my eyes and tried to hear his voice, tried to hear his logic, tried to hear his reason, tried to hear the sane sound of my brother's voice, but all I could hear was him calling me weak, lying to me, and finally the sounds of him seizing on the floor.

"Sam. What do I do? I mean demon blood. You're slurping down demon blood. It's not like I can take you to the Betty Ford Clinic to detox. It isn't like there is a magic pill I can give you to make you quit seizing, flying around the fricking room, and sweating so bad it looks like you drowned in a river." I ran a hand through my too long hair again. "I'd give my life…."

A thought came to me. It's a crappy thought, but in my world crazy and crappy sometimes worked.. I rolled up my sleeve and pulled the knife from my boot and ran it across my forearm, my blood welled up from the slice and I pressed it to my brothers unmoving lips. He didn't move, and the blood stayed there, resting on top of his sealed lips, some of my life blood running down the sides of his face. The scene was really macabre. I just hoped that maybe he would respond to my blood, the same blood that runs through his veins, the same blood that has bound us together since he was born. I just wished, hoped, that he would respond, that it would somehow help him, save him. I would let him bleed me to death if that saved him. I sighed, pulled the towel out again and wiped his face clean. What an idiot I am. What an idiot I've always been.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'll fix this. I promise." I got up, pushed his hair out of his face and headed out of the panic room and went upstairs to figure out my next move.