Sam’s Anxiety

emptywithout:

This is a repost of an older story I wrote. I changed it up a bit.

I just wanted you to remember, You Are Not Alone 🙂

---

Sam had been grumpy for three days in a row.  Dean tried to cheer him up, bought him his
favorite salads, even made him some of that nasty smoothie stuff he seems to
enjoy.  But Sam was dismissive and
irritated.  He snapped back at Dean with
everything he said.

“Hey, Sam, whadda ya say we head out tonight to that theater
in town and –“

“Not interested Dean,” he interrupted.  “I’ve still got that headache.” He continued
sipping on his whiskey, and staring past Dean at the wall.

Dean frowned.
Something was definitely off.

“Sam, what’s going on, you’ve been moping around for 3 days,
something happen?”

“Maybe Dean.  I don’t
want to talk about it.” He stood up and poured himself another drink.  Ignoring his brother, he walked past him, not
bothering to make eye contact and shuffled down the hall to his room.  Dean stood alone in the kitchen, unsure of
what to do.  In the distance, he heard
Sam’s door close.

He’d seen his brother down before.  He’d seen him angry and sad, but this
behavior was unusual, and Dean didn’t even know what started this.

~~

Sam woke up terrified. His heart was
pounding and his mind was racing.  He
knew he had to get out of bed, but he couldn’t.
He had a list of things to do today and wasn’t sure how he was going to
get any of them done.  

After about ten minutes of tossing and turning, he finally
got up.  He went into the kitchen to get
some water.  It was very early, still
dark, and Dean was still asleep.  His
hands were shaking and he could feel the sweat starting to drip down his
temples. He tried to take some deep breaths, but it wasn’t working.

“I’m ok,” he said aloud.
“This will pass, it’s not real, I’m ok.”
Sam was used to his anxiety attacks by now.  Ever since he escaped from the cage, and long
after he stopped seeing Lucifer, he continued to have them. They came randomly,
with no reason whatsoever.  Sam still
wasn’t sure what his triggers were.

He felt ashamed and worthless while they were
happening.  Like everything he had ever
done was wrong.  Like his whole life was
nothing but a pile of mistakes.  He truly
hated himself during these attacks.

But he knew it would pass. He knew Dean was in the other
room, and that if he really needed him, he just needed to ask.  He knew it was temporary and that the
feelings would be gone soon. He let the anxiety wash over him.  Pushing through was the best for him.  He sat on the floor of the kitchen and cried.

“I’m going to keep fighting this.  I’m ok.
I’m not alone anymore, I’m alive.
I will keep fighting. Always.”

When Dean woke up an hour or so later, Sam was sitting at
the table, waiting with two cups of coffee.

“Hey Dean,” he said slowly. “Can we talk?”

---

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