emptywithout:

Ok guys…here we go. Part 1 of a new
(old) series…

Warnings:  self harm (sort of) mentioned
but not described, terrified Sam, protective Dean. 

“Sammy! Coffee!” Dean hollered to
his brother from the kitchen.  But there was no response.  Dean
waited a few more minutes and Sam still hadn’t responded, hadn’t made a sound.
Dean paused and listened closely before he called again. The bunker was quiet.

“Sam, get your ass down here, we
gotta hit the road in ten!”  Still there was nothing but silence. Dean
sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.  Sam was probably fixing his hair or
something. He headed down the hall to Sam’s bedroom.  He gave a sharp
knock, making sure Sam knew of his impatience. Sam did not respond.

“Dude, seriously, come on –“
Dean opened the door to his brother’s room.  He did not expect to find the
bedroom empty.  Dean frowned.  Where the hell was his brother?

He searched all the main rooms, his
own room, and the bathroom, but couldn’t find his brother.  He tried
calling his cell, but Sam did not pick up. It wasn’t like Sam to just take off
without telling him.  His heart beat a little faster, but he wasn’t
worried just yet.

That is, until he opened the door to
the boiler room and found Sam crouched in the corner, visibly shaking.

 “Sam?”  Dean started to
run toward his younger brother.

Sam held up his hand and yelled for
Dean to stop.  In his other hand, he held a large knife.  Dean’s eyes
grew wide and he froze in his tracks.

“Sam?” Dean asked cautiously.
 “What are you doing with the knife?”

Sam shook his head. He was sweating
and he looked terrified.

 “It’s all my fault, Dean. All
of this.  Every last thing.  My fault.”  His eyes turned away
from Dean and he stared at the wall, knife still held firmly in his grasp.

“What’s your fault, Sam?” He tried
to slowly make his way over to his brother.

 “Charlie died because of me,
Dean.  You know that.  You accused me of that.  You told me it
should have been me up there, my body burning.  I know now you were right.
 I should have died.”  Sam had shifted himself underneath a
table.  He awkwardly pulled his knees up under his chin,  his body
trembling.

 Dean blinked.  He was
confused.  Where was this suddenly coming from? He tried to keep his voice
calm, even though he was angry and scared. How was he going to fix this?

“I…I was under the mark of Cain,
Sam! I don’t think it should have been you.  You know that, right?” 
Dean tried to sound reassuring as he tried to assess the situation.  But
Sam was shaking his head.  

“Kevin too.  I literally was
the one who murdered him.”  He started chewing on his fingernails.

“Sam, that was Gadreel!”  He
raked his hands through his hair.  Dean’s concern over Sam’s behavior was
growing.  What was going on?  He couldn’t get any closer because Sam
kept clutching the knife, holding it closer to his body.

 Sam kept talking, much faster
than usual.

“And that car accident? When Dad
traded his soul for yours so that you could live?  I was driving the
fucking car, Dean!”

“Sammy, you’re not seriously blaming
yourself for that?  Azazel sent a demon after us, it doesn’t matter who
was driving!”

“You know what else?” Sam was
practically sobbing now.  “Bobby, too.  He died because of me!”

“Sam, hell, no! Dick Roman killed
Bobby!”  Dean tried to reach out to his brother, but Sam was startled by
the quick movement and scooted further back under the table, moving the knife
to his neck.

“Sammy!  What the hell are you
doing, put that down!”  Dean choked back a sob.

“And whose fault is it that the
Leviathans were released, huh?  Who started all of that!  That was
me!” Sam’s voice caught in his throat and his sobbing intensified.

Dean shook his head, tears falling
from his eyes, too.

“Sammy stop!”

Dean couldn’t believe what he was
hearing.  Or seeing. He had to do something.

He didn’t want to call him, but he
needed backup for this one, and he knew the demon could probably help.

“Crowley!” Dean called, balling his
fists against his sides, his voice thick with panic.  

(to be continued…)

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