Summary: Season 6. Unbalanced!Sam. Dean just wants Sam to get better. Sam just wants Dean to be happy.

Author's Notes: So I got this little plot bunny after Dean tried to get Sam to take some unidentified pills after his first seizure. Just wondering what was really in that bottle.

Don't Wanna Pull You Down

"Drugs?" Sam's voice was disbelieving and irritated, also hurt as he stared at the pills in his brother's hand. "I'm not crazy, Dean."

Sam turned away and Dean followed, pills still in his closed hand.

"I know you're not crazy, but maybe…" He trailed off, unsure of a safe way to phrase everything. "Look, me and Bobby were talking and-"

"Bobby too?" And Dean would have preferred anger to the beaten tone of his brother's voice. Sam huffed out a laugh and sat on the edge of the bed. "What did I do wrong?"

Dean's shoulders slumped because that was so not it. He sat on the other bed, facing Sam.

"You didn't do anything wrong. We don't want you drugged up, just…" Dean sighed, putting the little handful of pills next to him on the bed. "I just want you safe, Sammy."

Sam's head only hung lower and Dean's voice took on that gentle tone he'd only just started using on Sam again.

"It's just something to try, Sammy. If it doesn't work, okay, but it's worth a shot." Dean let his eyes roam over his brother's body. "You can't keep going on like this."

Sam looked like…what's a more extreme word for 'hell' since that was a word Dean tried not to use anymore. He knew it was pointless, but he had to feel like he was doing something, damn it. Dark shadows marked the skin beneath Sam's eyes. Most of the muscle Sam had put on over the last few years was gone along with Sam's appetite. There were bruises all over him from falls when he just dropped into a seizure with a lovely side-item of remembered hell. He just looked…ill.

"Sammy…" Dean knew he was playing dirty, pulling on Sam's heartstrings, but if that's what it took…He couldn't let Sam give up now. "Please Sammy. Just do this for me?"

A tense minute later and a weary look directed at Dean that said 'I know what you're doing but I'm going to allow it for now,' and Sam moved his eyes over to the pharmacy bag Dean had left on the counter.

"…What are they?"

The smile of relief and hope on Dean's face was almost enough for Sam to not dread this so much. Dean gathered the pills in his palm again, pointing out the ones he was talking about.

"This one might help with the seizures. I know medicine's got nothing on…memories, but it could help the physical stuff, yeah?" He threw Sam a confident smile before continuing. "These should help you sleep." 'Because nothing we have has even touched you', went unsaid.

"And these…they're anti-psychotics. We're hoping these will help with the hallucinations." Sam cringed. It made him sound insane and he really wasn't…not yet anyway.

"Sam…I know it might be a long shot, but it's worth trying."

Sam wanted to say no, intended on saying no, but then he made the mistake of looking into his brother's tired eyes, pleading with him. Those same green eyes had watched him since birth and had never led him wrong. Who was he to deny Dean this?

Sighing heavily, Sam reached out and took the colorful little pills out of Dean's palm. He grabbed a bottle of water by the bed and swallowed them.

"Thank you, thank you…" Dean couldn't keep the relief out of his voice and Sam cringed. Just another reminder of the stress Dean was under just caring for Sam, the weight his very existence forced upon his brother's shoulders.

When Dean grabbed both sides of his face and leaned in to press their foreheads together, Sam could just make out the shaking of his hands, the shine to his eyes, the hope.

"This'll work, little brother. I'll make it work. I promise, Sammy."

Sam nodded slowly. He hoped he could give Dean this victory.

When Sam's eyes skittered past Dean to the corner of their motel room, the animated, decaying corpse of the girl smiled at him with her slashed mouth. Sam closed his eyes tight and leaned further into Dean's hold, trying desperately to block out the soft squelching sounds of her feet padding towards him on blood-soaked carpet.

She knew as well as he did what Dean didn't.

Pills would never be enough.