I realize this has been done to death, but this is my take on it. I just needed more… ya know?! Leave reviews if you'd like to. I like to read them, I know there are places in which I could stand to improve. Just be gentle, k?
Set immediately after "My Bloody Valentine"…
Dean wiped his tears away with his sleeve. He needed to get back to his brother and anyway, asking for help never seemed to work before. He was halfway back to the house when Cas appeared in front of him.
"Jesus Cas! You scared the crap out of me! Wait. What's wrong? Is it Sam?"
Cas replied quietly, "He isn't talking or screaming anymore. I looked inside and Sam seems to be asleep. I thought you might want to know this before I go."
"You're leaving? Well, I suppose you do have better things to do than sit with an addict and his useless brother." Dean grumbled, more to himself than to the angel.
"Dean, just give him time. He will return to you," and with that the angel disappeared.
Dean stepped into the panic room just in time to see Sam cramming his fingers down his own throat while he vomited into the bucket next to the cot.
"What are you doing Sam?" Dean asked with caution.
"I need to get rid of it. I need to get rid of all of it." Sam replied breathlessly. He started pounding his fists into his stomach as he kneeled over the bucket, desperately trying to help things along. Tears were pouring from his eyes and he was drenched in sweat. He had ripped off his bloody, long-sleeved shirt, leaving him in a thin t-shirt and jeans, barefoot on the cold, stone floor.
Dean approached slowly and put his hands on Sam's shoulders. "Sammy no, you got it all. It's gone. We just have to wait for everything to leave your system. Now, I need you to drink something. I'm gonna grab you a cup of water… Stay put, man. It's all gone."
Sam whimpered lightly. He held out his violently trembling arm to regain his balance on the cot. Attempts to haul himself up onto the cot failed. He slumped back onto the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible. He laid his sweaty forehead onto his forearms, as he tried to catch his breath.
Dean noticed Sam's gasps for breath as he walked toward him with the small cup of water. His hope was to calm Sam enough to drink. He had to be dehydrated. Dean sat himself on the floor next to Sam and nudged Sam's shoulder as he tried to hand him the cup. All this managed to do was startle Sam who began to hyperventilate.
Dammit, Dean thought as he dropped the cup and began to rub slow circles on Sam's back. His attempts to calm Sam down went unnoticed. Dean became frightened as Sam's pallor became even more pale and ghostly. Sam started to lean on Dean which soon turned into Sam passing out with his head in Dean's lap.
Dean was almost relieved when Sam succumbed. His breathing slowed and he relaxed into an unconscious slumber. Running his fingers through Sam's hair, Dean calmed as well. Looking down he noticed that Sam had split his lip, probably during his bout with bulimia, he also had dark circles under his eyes. The kid looked exhausted and wrung-out and… so very, very sad. Dean's heart broke just a little bit at this. He knew that Sam had suffered withdrawals before, but never completely. He escaped before kicking the habit last time and then was mysteriously cured of the addiction shortly after. Dean wondered how much longer Sam had to suffer.
Sam woke up screaming. He was tearing at his hair and scratching his skin to shreds. Dean grabbed Sam's hands and shouted his name. "Sammy! Sam, it's me. It's Dean. You are okay! I promise."
"Dean? Oh god, it hurts Dean. It hurts so much. I can't take it anymore. I can't…" Sam sobbed.
Dean gently laid Sam's head onto the hard ground. "Just a minute Sam. Okay? Hang in there." He jumped to the door of the panic room and opened it with a grunt. Just outside lay his "emergency" kit. He grabbed the syringe, the small bottle and some alcohol swabs. He was a pro at loading the syringe, but he'd never expected to use their emergency med stash for something like this. He ran back over to Sam and gripped his arm, turning it to see the crook of his elbow. Sam was dehydrated, this would be hard. Finally coming across a decent vein, Dean ripped the alcohol swab from its packaging and proceeded to administer the strong pain killer. Sam whimpered at the poke, but relaxed within seconds.
"Better?" whispered Dean.
"Better, at least a bit." Sam sighed.
Dean knew this might just trade one problem for another but at this point he didn't think Sam needed any more pain. Any that could be prevented, that is. Dean took the needle back to the med kit then gently helped Sam back onto the cot. Sam's breathing slowed, but when Dean looked into his eyes the kid was still awake.
"Thought you'd be out cold, man." Dean said.
"Nah, don't wanna sleep anymore. Seein' things that don't make sense or seein' things that are way too horrible to describe… Jus' wanna stay 'wake for a bit. Talk to me? Keep me company?"
Dean never could refuse an earnest Sammy. "Of course, man. Can you take a sip of water for me?"
Sam nodded his head and Dean went to lift him by the shoulders in order to get some liquids in. Sam sputtered for a moment, but then calmed as Dean lay him back down.
Dean pulled a rickety old rocking chair from the corner of the room up to the cot. "So… whatcha wanna talk about Sam?"
"Ummm… guess I didn't think this part through." Sam slurred.
"Well, seeing as your hold on reality right now is a bit… rocky, maybe this is an opportunity for me to talk to you about my feelings." Dean said thoughtfully.
"Uh, okay. I guess" Sam said nervously.
Dean laughed, "Don't worry dude. It's not as bad as you think. I just wanna tell you how much you mean to me, you know, the kinda stuff I don't say sober."
Sam smiled and turned on his side facing Dean. His eyelids were droopy and he was barely holding on to consciousness.
Dean sighed and decided to just go for it. "You are the most important thing in the world to me Sam. You are my other half, man. I mean, sure, Cas brought me back from hell, but you are the reason I've been hanging on. Do you have any idea how easy it would've been to just… let go? To give in to these feelings of worthlessness, emptiness and pain? So many days, I thought – Sam would be better off without me, but then you'd talk to me or do something stupid like, I dunno, get drugged out of your gourd at a nut house and I'd hang in there. You may think you need me, especially at a time like this. But man, I need you just as much, if not more. You are my family, my friend and my conscience. I realize things between us have changed, that you need me to see us as equals, and I do, but you will always be the reason I ran from the fire. You are the reason I ran for my life. Our lives. If I had had to go through all of this alone, I honestly believe I wouldn't be alive now. I wouldn't have made it through my childhood. We made it through together. Do you think either of us could've survived Dad and his training without each other? I always tried so hard to be what he wanted and needed me to be, but you, you just wanted and needed… me. Just me. Plain ol' Dean. No bells and whistles, no tough guy exterior or player. There are days that I couldn't face getting out of bed, but then I'd hear your voice and it would force me to get up. I hope you never saw that before Sammy. I never wanted you to know just how much I needed and depended on you. I guess now I just don't care. You see right through me now. Either you've gotten better at seeing through me or I've gotten worse at covering it up. Either way, doesn't matter. All that matters is that we keep each other human. We keep each other from giving in. And no, Sam. You did not give in this time. You were forced into this situation. I am not mad at you. I am not ashamed of you. You were pushed back into this addiction by a power way stronger than us. The way you are fighting right now Sam, makes me so proud. So very proud. I guess what I am saying is… letting go would be easy. So easy. Just stop caring, stop trying and just… stop, let go. I know that. I've felt that. But before you do, think of me Sam. You were the only reason I didn't let go on several occasions. I realize it may be wrong or codependent or whatever, but just, please... promise you'll think of me and hang on. I'll be there when you need me. From this point on, if we go out, we go out together. Both of us know it and, well… I don't want you to die Sammy. I know you don't want me to either. So let's hang in there. For each other. Let's do it for us."
Dean looked up from his lap where he'd been wringing his hands, half expecting Sam to be fast asleep. Instead Sam was looking at him through the tears running down his face. "I can't believe you've never given up on me Dean." Sam whispered.
"Duh!" Dean stammered through his own tears as he let out a gasping laugh.
Sam smiled at Dean's eloquence. "Duh yourself, dude."
Dean took a deep breath, stood up and grumbled, "Don't think this means I've gone all 'sharing and caring' Sam. I just needed to get some things off my chest. Okay?"
"Kay De. Gonna sleep now." Sam barely finished his thought before falling into his drug-induced slumber. He rallied for a moment, opened his eyes, grabbed Dean's hand and said, "Don't leave okay?"
"Never Sam. Never. A promise is a promise." Dean sighed as he took his spot in the rocker once again. He was going to help Sam through this rough patch. "I will never give up on you. You just hang in there… and I will too."