"Sam"
The voice was soft and quiet, but Sam would still know it anywhere, Dean.
Dean had found him, after all this time.
Sam couldn't help but let the tears fall from his eyes as Dean knelt down next to him and cradles his head in his hands.
"Sammy, oh my god Sammy what happened to you?" Sam could hear the pain in Dean's voice as he was looking at Sam, searching him for any part of the guy he used to know, but Sam knew there was nothing left. He was just a hollow shell.
"D-" He tried to say Dean's name, but his body began retching and choking as he tried to speak for the first time in months. Dean understood, and as much as it pained Sam to have Dean see him like this, he couldn't change it. He couldn't stop his body from shaking, he couldn't help it when he threw up when Dean tried to move him, he couldn't help the fact he couldn't even say one word, he was helpless.
It wasn't really Sam's fault he was the way he was when Dean found him, he had been fine up until about 2 weeks prior to that meeting, that was until his supplier had cut him off because he couldn't make the payments anymore.
Sam hadn't known what to do, so tried finding other dealers and suppliers around, but to no avail. No one would give him what he needed with the money he had. Sam had stumbled across this 'den' just by chance one day. He'd been following people around, as usual, when he saw someone who looked in the same shape he was, holly eyes, cheeks, stick thin, looked like he'd been wearing the same clothes for about a month, yep exactly the same. Sam had followed him all the way back to his place before the guy had even noticed he was there. Sam may have been completely out of it, but he still knew how to stalk, like he used to stalk prey.
Sam had stayed in the den ever since. It had become a sort of home to him, it was, up until the moment Dean found him, the place he thought he would take his final breaths.
Things had gotten bad for Sam pretty fast after his supply was cut, first came the sweats, he'd go from boiling to freezing in a matter of seconds, and ended up getting a bad fever as a result of that. Then on top of that had come the vomiting, every time he tried to eat or drink anything, his stomach decided to empty it's entire contents, multiple times over. Next came the shakes, it was impossible for Sam to do anything once he started getting the shakes, they'd come in bursts in the beginning, but now stayed almost constantly. He couldn't even pick up his knife anymore. Lastly, and what hit Sam the hardest came the memory loss. He'd be fine some days, but others, he'd barely even remember his own name, let alone anything else about his situation, which would leave him scared and confused amongst people he didn't know.
Sam couldn't remember how long he'd actually been lying in that spot on the floor, but as Dean tried to lift him to his feet, he realized it must have been a very long time as his legs completely crumpled under his own weight. Dean managed to catch him just before he hit the floor, and tried again to lift him up, it was only then did Dean realize he probably could've just picked Sam up and carried him, he'd lost so much weight.
Slowly but surely they made their way towards the exit, Sam's shaking at started to subside a bit, but nothing could have prepared Dean for how Sam would look when they actually got into daylight.
It was worse than Dean had even though it could be, he noticed really how skinny Sam had gotten, and how hollowed out his cheeks and eyes were. He saw bruises covering Sam's skin, almost everywhere, some deep purple and black, some fading to a more blueish green. His hair, that he used to take such pride in, was dank and dingy and looked like it hadn't been touched in months. Dean couldn't help but catch his breath as he saw the true extent of the cuts that ran all the way up Sam's arms, with the little needle punctures dotted around the edges of them, he just couldn't believe this guy, this ghost, was really his Sammy.
Dean had continued to help Sam to the car, where he slowly placed him inside, allowing him to spread himself along the back seats before gingerly walking around to the drivers door.
He couldn't believe this was happening. He'd been searching for Sam for a year now, he'd expected him to be living it up with a wife or at least a girlfriend, not on the brink of death in a drugs den. Dean needed to find out, what had happened to make it get so bad for him.
He got in the car and noticed Sam was already snoring in the back seat, Dean wondered how long it had actually been since Sam had last had a peaceful sleep.
Probably not since the night you abandoned him.
Dean couldn't help but feel guilty after seeing Sam, he felt like the letter in his pocket was just about ready to burst into flames when he'd first caught sight of his little brother.
He drove carefully to the nearest motel, checking his rear view to look at Sam every few seconds, he just wanted to make sure he was safe now, that nothing bad was going to happen to his little brother now he was back with Dean.
They arrived at the motel, and Dean went in to go book a room before going back out to wake Sammy up. He shook him gently, but firm enough that Sam did wake up from his state of unconsciousness. It made Dean jump when Sam lashed out as soon as he opened him eyes with a look of pure terror in his eyes, but as he realized once again he was with Dean, it seemed to calm him down a bit.
Sam still hadn't said a word since Dean had found him, and now with them sitting on opposite beds in the motel room, Dean's imagination began to flip through every possible horrible event that could have happened to Sam when he heard a faint whimper coming from Sam's bed. It had snapped Dean back to reality as he went and sat over next to Sam on his bed.
"Dean." It sounded forced and painful hearing his name said out of Sam's mouth for the first time in a year, and Dean could tell it was painful for Sam to say as he scrunched his face up in pain after the word left his mouth. Dean rushed to grab Sam a glass of water before watching him down the whole thing, then proceeding to throw up the whole glass almost immediately all down himself.
That was when the tears started. Sam was bawling his eyes out, screaming and wailing just as he used to when he hurt himself as a child. Dean instinctively drew Sam up against him and began rocking him slowly as he started rubbing his hair. At first Sam froze at the random affection from someone, but slowly began to relax with Dean as it brought back all the good memories from their childhood together. Sam had missed this, he'd missed Dean.
Dean continued rocking his giant of a brother back and forth in his arms until he slowly began to calm down and soon enough he was asleep again in Dean's arms. The more Dean looked at Sam the sadder it made him, he was taking in each little detail of the Sam he saw before him. His eyes were caught on the scars on Sam's arms, he knew they weren't put there by someone else, the angle that they were, they'd come from Sam's own hand. Dean didn't even realize he was crying until he saw a tear fall onto Sam's arm. He quickly righted himself as he began to remove Sam from his arms to find that Sam was clinging onto Dean's jacket with his death grip, there was no way Dean was getting out of this one. He decided to try and settle down next to Sam rather than try and remove himself.
Once Dean had finally managed to lie down next to Sam, he managed to fall asleep listening to Sam's light breathing, knowing he was going to be safe from now on.
Sam woke up early in the morning, and jumped as he found himself in a bed rather than in a ball on the floor. He looked to his right and saw that he was in bed with Dean, he calmed down once he realised he wasn't in any immediate danger but couldn't help but feel slightly nauseated at the way Dean was with him again. This was the first time he'd seen Dean in about a year now, and the reason he'd left was because Dean was disgusted by what had happened to Sam in hell, and here he was, acting like his brother again.
Don't kid yourself Sam
He doesn't really care about you
He's probably more disgusted with you than ever.
Sam tried to calm his breathing as all these thoughts were rushing through his mind, but to no avail.
He slowly manoeuvred his way out of the bed away from Dean and swayed slightly after still not being used to standing of his own accord. Then with all the strength he could muster he walked as quietly as he could to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and swore under his breath as the lock made a loud clicking sound. He needed it, he needed to release.
Sam looked down to find his hands still trembling, this detox had been one of the hardest things he'd ever been put through, and that was saying a lot seeing as he'd literally been to hell and back. He reached down and grabbed the all too familiar blade from his ankle sheath, Dean had taken all of his other ones away from him whilst he was sleeping, but everyone always forgot about his handy ankle knife.
He placed the cold blade to his skin and slowly dragged it over already existing scars, there it was, that feeling that just couldn't be matched, the feeling of utter control over yourself, and at peace with yourself. The blood started flowing immediately, and as soon as Sam felt the warm blood trickling down his arm he let go of the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in one long sigh. Still very aware of the fact Dean was in such close proximity to him, Sam restricted himself to just three cuts on each arm. He knew he'd be able to cover them up as old cuts easily as he'd dotted them randomly up his arms. Although, of course to Sam they weren't just random cuts, he knew when he had done each one, and the reason behind it. He didn't like the fact he did it, but ever since that day he'd used it to keep a grasp of reality, it was Sam's new rock, now that he didn't have Dean any more.
Sam knew it wasn't the same though, these were slowly killing him, Dean wasn't. These were addictive and painful, Dean was just, there. These made him feel weak and excluded, Dean made him feel loved and warm. These made him feel cold and alone, Dean made him feel loved.
As all the memories Sam had cherished started to rush back into his head, he couldn't help but start crying. He'd missed Dean so much, maybe he'd just made a mistake by leaving all that time ago, Dean could never hate him could he, he was his brother.
Sam slowly sunk down against the bathroom wall, and sat silently sobbing at all the good memories he had of him and Dean together. All the pranks they used to play on each other, the way Dean had first taught Sam how to shave, how Dean had helped Sam understand puberty and girls, how Dean had always been more of a father to him than John ever was.
It was this, Sam realized, that he hadn't even known he'd missed, until now. And he didn't want things to go back to the way they were ever again.