lexophilia
in
ohsam
Fic: Anorexic Sam (Gen, WIP) 3/6
Word Count: 2,358
Warnings: Potentially triggering subject matter and self-harm.
Summary: A series of glimpses into the life of Sam Winchester as he deals with an eating disorder. Maybe he's always been this way. Sam knows that he's afraid of stopping, and Dean knows he's afraid of what will happen if Sam doesn't. This is fiction based on fiction, but there are some spoilers for Season 1.
Diclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Supernatural television series.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A week later...
Three days had passed since Sam was released from the hospital.
Three days had passed after being released with a 'there's nothing else we can do if he doesn't want to help himself' and a 'good luck' to guide them on their way.
Three days had passed and the only improvement that Dean could see was that Sam was no longer in immediate danger of passing out from either dehydration or from his blood sugar levels having dropped too low.
Dean had tried to talk to his brother during his time in the hospital; however, his brother had only become more and more withdrawn with each passing day. Sam's depression was eating him from the inside out at the same time that his eating disorder was destroying him from the outside in. Sam was a shell of his former self and with each day that passed, Dean could sense another piece of that shell splintering and falling away.
Three days had passed since Sam was released from the hospital, and the only thing that either of them had accomplished was the acceptance of the fact that there was going to be no quick fix to be found.
"Sammy, there's an exit up ahead. What do you say we stop for some lunch?" Dean asked in a slight undertone so as not to frighten his brother who'd been staring blankly at the dashboard of the Impala for about the last 20 to 30 miles.
"Yeah, okay." Sam replied without ever looking up.
"That's great," Dean said with a little more enthusiasm than the moment required. "I don't know about you man, but I could really use some fuel right about now. I saw a sign for one of those all-you-can-eat type places. Is that okay with you?"
"Yeah, okay." Sam replied once again in the same, soft tone.
"Great," Dean replied as he struggled to hold onto his false sense of enthusiasm.
As soon as they stepped into the restaurant, Dean knew that he'd made a bad choice. The place was absolutely packed. All of the booths and areas that offered any privacy were taken. The only seats available in the entire restaurant where in the middle of the restaurant.
Dean was just about to suggest that they go somewhere else when his brother said something that he never expected.
"I'm going to go ahead and fix a plate. Go ahead and grab us a table will you?" Sam said as he looked over at the wide assortment of meats, vegetables, and breads on the two large buffets.
"Um...sure. Yeah." Dean said as he walked off and tried his best to hide his shocked expression. Sam hadn't made the first effort to 'fix' anything for himself since leaving the hospital. Everything that he'd eaten during the last few days had been handed to him by his brother who most often ended up begging him to eat.
Dean grabbed a small table in the area that seemed to be generating the least amount of noise and tried to hide the fact that he was watching his brother as he circled the smaller of the two large buffets.
Dean couldn't help but lose some of his initial enthusiasm as one minute turned into five and Sam still had not put anything in the small salad bowl that he'd picked up and was holding in his hands.
The hardest part of dealing with Sam and his illness was watching day after day as Sam struggled. He watched as Sam struggled to make choices that would have taken the average person seconds to make. He watched as Sam struggled to keep up some semblance of normal. He watched as Sam struggled with the depression that was dragging him down deeper and deeper every day.
Dean tried to let Sam have as much independence as possible and to let him do things on his own, but this was quickly proving to become a situation where Dean knew he would need to step in and help his brother. Left up to his own devices, Sam would probably stand there with an empty bowl in his hands until someone asked or forced him into action.
Not really caring if he lost their table, Dean made his way up to the buffet. He grabbed two plates in one hand and proceeded to fill them with baked chicken, mashed potatoes, macaroni, and green beans.
"Come on. Let's go sit down, okay Sammy? I got something for both of us. I didn't know what you wanted, so I just grabbed what looked good. Is that okay, Sammy?" Dean asked Sam who was still just standing over the salads holding his empty bowl.
"Umm…yeah. Good. That's good." Sam said as if he was coming out of a daze.
"You think you wanna put some salad or fruit in that bowl? If you don't want to, that's cool. I just didn't know if you…" Dean trailed off doing his best to give Sam an opportunity to make a decision.
"Yeah, okay," Sam said as he picked up a small amount of plain romaine using the tongs on the bar.
"Let's go grab our seats before someone plops their butts in them," Dean said as he starting walking back towards the table hoping that Sam was following him.
As Dean sat the two plates down on the table and turned to pull out his seat, he was pleased to see Sam doing the same across from him.
"Oh, crap. Let me go grab some forks and the drinks. What do you want to drink, Sam?" Dean asked even though he already knew the answer.
"Water," Sam said as he sat staring at the bowl in front of him.
"Be right back, man."
"Okay. Yeah," Sam said as he looked up to see his brother walking away.
It was a little past noon and he knew he should be feeling hungry by now, but the truth of the matter was that he just didn't feel like eating.
Based on the sounds his stomach had been making a few hours back, his body needed something, but the truth of the matter was that he just didn't care.
The doctors at the hospital had told him what would start happening to his body if he continued refusing to eat. It didn't matter. Dean was at the point where he was begging him to eat at every meal every day. It didn't matter. If their dad ever decided to answer his damn phone or to return one of the many phone calls he knew his brother had made, John Winchester would be equal parts disappointed and angry with Sam for relapsing. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.
Because what none of them seemed to understand was that Sam was not doing this on purpose. He wasn't trying to make anyone worry. He wasn't trying to get attention. What was happening to him had nothing to do with him trying to look a certain way or to prove any point or to do any of the things people thought he was trying to do.
It was the voice in his head that controlled everything.
It was the voice that said 'you don't need that.' It was the voice that said 'you miss her, and you will never get to see her again.' It was the voice that controlled his body and his will and his mind.
Anorexia was the demon on one shoulder and the angel on the other. It was the dark and the light. It was the bad and the good. It was the total lack of control and the total sense of complete control. It was the friend he never asked for and the companion that never let him down.
It was everything and nothing.
It was life and death.
And as much as it hurt, it felt good.
Dean returned to the table with their forks and drinks and couldn't hold in the sigh as he saw the wetness in his brother's eyes as he quickly tried to turn his face so that Dean could not see his tears.
"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked even though he knew nothing was okay and that nothing would be okay any time soon.
"Yeah, I'm good," Sam said as he picked up one of the forks and started eating the lightest colored pieces of lettuce out of his tiny bowl of salad.
As Dean started to dig into his own meal, he gently slid one of the plates of food towards his brother to encourage him to eat more than the little amount he was consuming.
Dean tried his best not to stare at his brother, but he just couldn't help it. He tried his best not to stare as Sam chewed and chewed and chewed one bite of salad. He tried his best not to stare as Sam took small sips of water every few minutes. He tried his best not to stare and not to scream as he watched Sam give up all pretense of eating, put his fork down, and simply stared at a random spot on the table.
"You going to eat anything else?" Dean asked in a way that he hoped wouldn't agitate his brother.
"No, I'm not."
"Damnit, Sammy. We talked about this. You have to try. You have to."
"No, I don't."
"Wha…What do you mean, Sammy? You have to eat. Please, man. You ate like nothing for breakfast. All you had was a coffee and a bite of toast. Jesus, Sammy. Please!" Dean begged without realizing that he was starting to draw attention from other tables.
"Shut the hell up, Dean. I'm leaving. If you want it, you eat it!" Sam said as he stood up so fast he got a head rush.
"Damnit!" Dean said as he shot up from his seat and grabbed his brother by the biceps to keep him from falling over. "Please, sit down."
"I'm fine. Ge…get offa me," Sam slurred as black dots danced in front of his eyes. He had no choice but to sit down as he felt his knees give.
"Hey hey, are you okay man?" Dean asked his brother as he helped guide him to a seated position and let go of his arms.
"I'm good. I just sto…ood up a little too fast is all."
"Drink some water, okay." Dean said as he helped guide the glass to his brother's lips.
Dean watched as his brother placed his shaking hands on top of his and took a small sip from the glass before pushing it away.
"Sammy, say something. You're really scaring me. Tell me what you need. Tell me what I can do."
"Can we just get out of here? Can we leave?" Sam asked as he stood much slower this time and used his napkin to cover the plate of uneaten food in front of him.
"Yeah. Okay. Okay." Dean said as he watched Sam slowly walk away from the table and head outside to the car.
As soon as he'd paid their bill, he followed his brother out to the Impala. As Dean approached the car, he could see through the window that Sam was leaning against the door with his head resting on the passenger window.
Logic said that Sam was fine, that he was just closing his eyes for a minute, but something inside of Dean still panicked, and he ran to the passenger side of the car and snatched open the door.
"Jesus, Dean!" Sam shouted as he barely managed to keep himself from falling out of the car. "What's wrong, Dean? You scared the crap out of me!" Sam said as he righted himself and stared incredulously at his brother.
"I'm sorry. I just thought - I mean, it just looked like…" Dean trailed off as he tried to calm him shattered nerves.
"I just looked what? What? WHAT?" Sam shouted at his brother.
"Nothing. Nothing." Dean said as he walked over to the driver's side and got it.
"Well, you could have at least closed my door."
"Whatever. Close the door, Sammy, so we can get rolling. Daylight's burning." Dean said as he put in the first cassette he could reach and stuck it into the player and turned the volume up.
"Dean," Sam said as he tried to make his voice heard over the loud rock music.
"Dean, please. I'm sorry." Sam said at the exact moment that Dean turned the volume all the way down.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Dean. I'm sorry you have to put up with…with all this, "Sam said dropping his voice to the point where it was almost a whisper.
"It's okay, Sam. You don't have to apologize to me. I'm sorry I scared you when I opened the door like that. I didn't mean to."
"You were just concerned," Sam said in the same, small whisper of a voice.
"It's okay, Sammy. It's okay," Dean said as he turned the radio back up but nowhere near as loud as it had previously been.
Sam was not okay. Sam was far from okay, but Dean was running out of options and the only thing that he could do other than forcing his brother to eat was to try to allow him to do things at his own pace.
Dean knew that something had to give and that it would have to happen soon. He knew that if things persisted the way they were that Sam would end up right back in the hospital within a week.
Dean hated this. He simply hated it.
As a family, they'd spent all of their lives destroying monsters.
But this monster, Sam's illness, was destroying them.
Warnings: Potentially triggering subject matter and self-harm.
Summary: A series of glimpses into the life of Sam Winchester as he deals with an eating disorder. Maybe he's always been this way. Sam knows that he's afraid of stopping, and Dean knows he's afraid of what will happen if Sam doesn't. This is fiction based on fiction, but there are some spoilers for Season 1.
Diclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Supernatural television series.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A week later...
Three days had passed since Sam was released from the hospital.
Three days had passed after being released with a 'there's nothing else we can do if he doesn't want to help himself' and a 'good luck' to guide them on their way.
Three days had passed and the only improvement that Dean could see was that Sam was no longer in immediate danger of passing out from either dehydration or from his blood sugar levels having dropped too low.
Dean had tried to talk to his brother during his time in the hospital; however, his brother had only become more and more withdrawn with each passing day. Sam's depression was eating him from the inside out at the same time that his eating disorder was destroying him from the outside in. Sam was a shell of his former self and with each day that passed, Dean could sense another piece of that shell splintering and falling away.
Three days had passed since Sam was released from the hospital, and the only thing that either of them had accomplished was the acceptance of the fact that there was going to be no quick fix to be found.
"Sammy, there's an exit up ahead. What do you say we stop for some lunch?" Dean asked in a slight undertone so as not to frighten his brother who'd been staring blankly at the dashboard of the Impala for about the last 20 to 30 miles.
"Yeah, okay." Sam replied without ever looking up.
"That's great," Dean said with a little more enthusiasm than the moment required. "I don't know about you man, but I could really use some fuel right about now. I saw a sign for one of those all-you-can-eat type places. Is that okay with you?"
"Yeah, okay." Sam replied once again in the same, soft tone.
"Great," Dean replied as he struggled to hold onto his false sense of enthusiasm.
As soon as they stepped into the restaurant, Dean knew that he'd made a bad choice. The place was absolutely packed. All of the booths and areas that offered any privacy were taken. The only seats available in the entire restaurant where in the middle of the restaurant.
Dean was just about to suggest that they go somewhere else when his brother said something that he never expected.
"I'm going to go ahead and fix a plate. Go ahead and grab us a table will you?" Sam said as he looked over at the wide assortment of meats, vegetables, and breads on the two large buffets.
"Um...sure. Yeah." Dean said as he walked off and tried his best to hide his shocked expression. Sam hadn't made the first effort to 'fix' anything for himself since leaving the hospital. Everything that he'd eaten during the last few days had been handed to him by his brother who most often ended up begging him to eat.
Dean grabbed a small table in the area that seemed to be generating the least amount of noise and tried to hide the fact that he was watching his brother as he circled the smaller of the two large buffets.
Dean couldn't help but lose some of his initial enthusiasm as one minute turned into five and Sam still had not put anything in the small salad bowl that he'd picked up and was holding in his hands.
The hardest part of dealing with Sam and his illness was watching day after day as Sam struggled. He watched as Sam struggled to make choices that would have taken the average person seconds to make. He watched as Sam struggled to keep up some semblance of normal. He watched as Sam struggled with the depression that was dragging him down deeper and deeper every day.
Dean tried to let Sam have as much independence as possible and to let him do things on his own, but this was quickly proving to become a situation where Dean knew he would need to step in and help his brother. Left up to his own devices, Sam would probably stand there with an empty bowl in his hands until someone asked or forced him into action.
Not really caring if he lost their table, Dean made his way up to the buffet. He grabbed two plates in one hand and proceeded to fill them with baked chicken, mashed potatoes, macaroni, and green beans.
"Come on. Let's go sit down, okay Sammy? I got something for both of us. I didn't know what you wanted, so I just grabbed what looked good. Is that okay, Sammy?" Dean asked Sam who was still just standing over the salads holding his empty bowl.
"Umm…yeah. Good. That's good." Sam said as if he was coming out of a daze.
"You think you wanna put some salad or fruit in that bowl? If you don't want to, that's cool. I just didn't know if you…" Dean trailed off doing his best to give Sam an opportunity to make a decision.
"Yeah, okay," Sam said as he picked up a small amount of plain romaine using the tongs on the bar.
"Let's go grab our seats before someone plops their butts in them," Dean said as he starting walking back towards the table hoping that Sam was following him.
As Dean sat the two plates down on the table and turned to pull out his seat, he was pleased to see Sam doing the same across from him.
"Oh, crap. Let me go grab some forks and the drinks. What do you want to drink, Sam?" Dean asked even though he already knew the answer.
"Water," Sam said as he sat staring at the bowl in front of him.
"Be right back, man."
"Okay. Yeah," Sam said as he looked up to see his brother walking away.
It was a little past noon and he knew he should be feeling hungry by now, but the truth of the matter was that he just didn't feel like eating.
Based on the sounds his stomach had been making a few hours back, his body needed something, but the truth of the matter was that he just didn't care.
The doctors at the hospital had told him what would start happening to his body if he continued refusing to eat. It didn't matter. Dean was at the point where he was begging him to eat at every meal every day. It didn't matter. If their dad ever decided to answer his damn phone or to return one of the many phone calls he knew his brother had made, John Winchester would be equal parts disappointed and angry with Sam for relapsing. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.
Because what none of them seemed to understand was that Sam was not doing this on purpose. He wasn't trying to make anyone worry. He wasn't trying to get attention. What was happening to him had nothing to do with him trying to look a certain way or to prove any point or to do any of the things people thought he was trying to do.
It was the voice in his head that controlled everything.
It was the voice that said 'you don't need that.' It was the voice that said 'you miss her, and you will never get to see her again.' It was the voice that controlled his body and his will and his mind.
Anorexia was the demon on one shoulder and the angel on the other. It was the dark and the light. It was the bad and the good. It was the total lack of control and the total sense of complete control. It was the friend he never asked for and the companion that never let him down.
It was everything and nothing.
It was life and death.
And as much as it hurt, it felt good.
Dean returned to the table with their forks and drinks and couldn't hold in the sigh as he saw the wetness in his brother's eyes as he quickly tried to turn his face so that Dean could not see his tears.
"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked even though he knew nothing was okay and that nothing would be okay any time soon.
"Yeah, I'm good," Sam said as he picked up one of the forks and started eating the lightest colored pieces of lettuce out of his tiny bowl of salad.
As Dean started to dig into his own meal, he gently slid one of the plates of food towards his brother to encourage him to eat more than the little amount he was consuming.
Dean tried his best not to stare at his brother, but he just couldn't help it. He tried his best not to stare as Sam chewed and chewed and chewed one bite of salad. He tried his best not to stare as Sam took small sips of water every few minutes. He tried his best not to stare and not to scream as he watched Sam give up all pretense of eating, put his fork down, and simply stared at a random spot on the table.
"You going to eat anything else?" Dean asked in a way that he hoped wouldn't agitate his brother.
"No, I'm not."
"Damnit, Sammy. We talked about this. You have to try. You have to."
"No, I don't."
"Wha…What do you mean, Sammy? You have to eat. Please, man. You ate like nothing for breakfast. All you had was a coffee and a bite of toast. Jesus, Sammy. Please!" Dean begged without realizing that he was starting to draw attention from other tables.
"Shut the hell up, Dean. I'm leaving. If you want it, you eat it!" Sam said as he stood up so fast he got a head rush.
"Damnit!" Dean said as he shot up from his seat and grabbed his brother by the biceps to keep him from falling over. "Please, sit down."
"I'm fine. Ge…get offa me," Sam slurred as black dots danced in front of his eyes. He had no choice but to sit down as he felt his knees give.
"Hey hey, are you okay man?" Dean asked his brother as he helped guide him to a seated position and let go of his arms.
"I'm good. I just sto…ood up a little too fast is all."
"Drink some water, okay." Dean said as he helped guide the glass to his brother's lips.
Dean watched as his brother placed his shaking hands on top of his and took a small sip from the glass before pushing it away.
"Sammy, say something. You're really scaring me. Tell me what you need. Tell me what I can do."
"Can we just get out of here? Can we leave?" Sam asked as he stood much slower this time and used his napkin to cover the plate of uneaten food in front of him.
"Yeah. Okay. Okay." Dean said as he watched Sam slowly walk away from the table and head outside to the car.
As soon as he'd paid their bill, he followed his brother out to the Impala. As Dean approached the car, he could see through the window that Sam was leaning against the door with his head resting on the passenger window.
Logic said that Sam was fine, that he was just closing his eyes for a minute, but something inside of Dean still panicked, and he ran to the passenger side of the car and snatched open the door.
"Jesus, Dean!" Sam shouted as he barely managed to keep himself from falling out of the car. "What's wrong, Dean? You scared the crap out of me!" Sam said as he righted himself and stared incredulously at his brother.
"I'm sorry. I just thought - I mean, it just looked like…" Dean trailed off as he tried to calm him shattered nerves.
"I just looked what? What? WHAT?" Sam shouted at his brother.
"Nothing. Nothing." Dean said as he walked over to the driver's side and got it.
"Well, you could have at least closed my door."
"Whatever. Close the door, Sammy, so we can get rolling. Daylight's burning." Dean said as he put in the first cassette he could reach and stuck it into the player and turned the volume up.
"Dean," Sam said as he tried to make his voice heard over the loud rock music.
"Dean, please. I'm sorry." Sam said at the exact moment that Dean turned the volume all the way down.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Dean. I'm sorry you have to put up with…with all this, "Sam said dropping his voice to the point where it was almost a whisper.
"It's okay, Sam. You don't have to apologize to me. I'm sorry I scared you when I opened the door like that. I didn't mean to."
"You were just concerned," Sam said in the same, small whisper of a voice.
"It's okay, Sammy. It's okay," Dean said as he turned the radio back up but nowhere near as loud as it had previously been.
Sam was not okay. Sam was far from okay, but Dean was running out of options and the only thing that he could do other than forcing his brother to eat was to try to allow him to do things at his own pace.
Dean knew that something had to give and that it would have to happen soon. He knew that if things persisted the way they were that Sam would end up right back in the hospital within a week.
Dean hated this. He simply hated it.
As a family, they'd spent all of their lives destroying monsters.
But this monster, Sam's illness, was destroying them.