Hunting Breaks - Part I
Title: Hunting Breaks (AO3)
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: Substance Addiction
Medium: Fic
Wordcount: 2,983
Rating: R
Warnings: Substance Abuse, Implied Suicide Attempt, Canon Character Death
Summary: Inspired by this prompt from LaueHime's Winchester Hurt/Comfort Festival a long time ago: I like the idea of Sam trying to deal with hating hunting and the life they live through addiction (something like pain meds maybe - which would make him jump in front of the line of fire if it meant getting hurt and fed a dose of his beloved relief). From then on, there are many possibilities the story could turn to. Dean and/or John could find out, or Sam could accidentally take in a bigger dose than he should've, or he could get into trouble. That's up to you, of course!
--
1996
Pastor Jim gave him his first Percocet. Sam had been up all night, tossing and turning from the pain caused by his broken arm, the masses of bruises that covered his chest and wrapped around his rib cage almost meeting at his spine. He was only thirteen and half the pill was enough to put him out of his misery for the rest of the night and most of the next day.
"Feeling better?" The pastor asked him the next morning and Sam nodded. His head still felt separate from his body and the pain was there, but it was floating beyond a veil and didn't seem all that real.
He forgot about the pill for a while after that.
--
1997
"Sam! Sam, you okay?" Dean shook him, his fingers dug hard into Sam's dislocated shoulder. They were squatting in the mud and he had to be quiet, but his shoulder hurt so bad and each breath he drew in jostled it and he could feel the butt print on his shoulder blade.
Sam tried to reassure his brother, but all that came out as a moan and Dean's eyes widened.
"Hey, you'll be okay. Open your mouth for me." And Sam's big brother put a pill on his tongue and gave him a few sips of water to swallow it down.
The pill put him out for a while and when Sam woke up he was tucked in on the couch in their crappy one bedroom apartment. He didn't hurt anymore, he felt spacey and his shoulder was tingley.
"How you doing? You with us now?"
Sam blinked and tried to focus on his father's face. "Wha?"
"You're okay." Dad rubbed Sam's shoulder, the one that hadn't gotten hurt. "I popped your shoulder right back in, you took a swing at me when I carried you in, so it's probably okay."
Sam wiggled his fingers and brushed them against his leg. They were all still there and he could feel all of them.
"How's it feel?" Dad touched his other shoulder, the one that had been hurt. Sam winced as his father's strong fingers palpated it and forced his arm up to test his range of motion.
"Tingly." Sam said and the word felt thick in his mouth.
"Pain meds will be wearing off soon." Dad stood and Sam craned his neck to follow him. "Dean, I need the kit!"
Sam took the pill his father offered and slipped off to sleep where his shoulder didn't feel tingly and he didn't have to do anything he didn't want too.
--
1997
He picked himself up off the ground and stumbled away from the open grave. Each breath made his ribs burn and he didn't think he was going to be able to force enough air down his swelling throat to keep breathing.
"Matches!" Sam heard his father yell. When he heard the familiar crackle of flames and the smell of rotting flesh was replaced with wholesome fire, he let himself fall back to the earth and curl around his aching chest.
"Damn it Sam!" Dad rolled him over and pressed on his neck. Sam gasped for air and choked when the fingers went away and pulled up his shirt. "What the hell were you thinking? I told you to move!"
Sam let out a strangled cry when Dad squeezed his chest and the burning pain shot through his anew.
"Dad! Can't you see you're hurting him?" Dean pushed Dad away and let Sam lean on him. He rubbed Sam's back as Sam gasped for air. "I'll meet you back at the car. Get the kit ready."
Sam couldn't help it. He started to cry, it just hurt so much.
"Hey, it'll be okay. I'll wrap up your ribs. I think we've still got some good pills from my broken arm." Dean picked him up and cradled him in his arms, arranging it so his arms didn't put force onto Sam's broken ribs.
They gave him a pill back at the car and another when he woke up. Dean fed him soup when his broken fingers couldn't manage the spoon and Sam's hands shook until Dean gave him another half pill.
"Ready for school?" Dean asked two mornings later.
Sam nodded and limbed to the kitchen table. He made it through a piece of toast and a cup of coffee before he looked up and tried to look pitiful. "Dean, my ribs still hurt."
"Yeah, they're gonna hurt for a while." But Dean knelt down next to his chair and pulled up his shirt to inspect his side. "Hurt here?" He pressed in a couple of places and Sam didn't have to fake his pain and winces. "I'll get you an ice pack for the car."
"There any Advil left?" Sam asked when Dean had the kit out.
"Uh, yeah."
"Can you get me some water?" Sam asked and when Dean turned his back to fill a cup, Sam pocketed one of the little sample packs of the good pills.
"Here." Dean gave him water and Sam took the three Advil he was offered.
He saved the good pills for the next hunt.
--
1998
"You'll hike up the ridge and we'll try to trap it in here." Dad sketched out the movements with broad lines on the new map. "Keep your eyes open and for the love of god be quiet."
"Yes sir. Right Sammy?"
Sam nodded and felt the little package of pills in his pocket. "I guess."
Dad frowned but he didn't say anything. "An hour after sundown Dean. I'll be ready."
Dean nodded and Sam followed him into the forest they had to hike through.
Ten minutes later Sam stopped walking. "I gotta take a piss."
Dean grunted but he stopped walking and leaned against a tree. "Hurry up princess."
Sam took twenty steps into the wood and ripped open the pill package. He broke one of the pills in half and dry swallowed it. For a second it stuck in his throat, but that past and he rejoined his brother.
The rest of the hike and the hunt based in sort of a blissful distance for him. He was cold and wet, but he didn't really feel it. The recoil of the rifle didn't bother him and he didn't feel any of the mosquito bites until the pill had worn off and they'd come home.
Sam fingered his remaining pills. He had long day at school, but the next hunt would be worse. He taped the package shut and kept it in his jacket pocket, the one that still zipped shut.
--
1999
Dean was on to him. Sam only had one pill left in his package and there weren't any more in the first aid kit. He twitched all the time now, when he did his homework, when he sat through boring classes. The pill package was burning a hole in his pocket and Sam couldn't stop touching it, reassuring himself it was there.
Dean scowled every time Sam put his hand in his pocket, but he never said anything.
"Black dog in Grimsby." Dad announced one Thursday night. "Pack your stuff. We're leaving at first light."
The car ride was almost unbearable. Sam fingered the pill and tried to wait it out. He'd want it more later, but he wanted it an awful lot right now. The forest they were searching was full of campers and Sam was laden down with weapons. He popped the pill and used the compass to follow the path Dad had traced out on the map.
Most of the hunt passed in sort of an odd blissful state. Sam made it to the mouth of the cave and climbed a tree. He got out his gun and rested it against a branch. It was heavy, his head was heavy. Sam readjusted his position in the tree until he could lean back on a sturdy branch.
"SAM!" The voice startled him to wakefulness and Sam jumped. He was falling, forward and Dean yelled his name again. "SAM!"
Sam hit the ground hard and groaned, the wind knocked out of him. He tried to sit up, take stock of the situation. Before he could move, something clapped onto his leg.
"SAM!" There was a gunshot in the air and Sam felt hot pain slice through his leg. He shook himself, trying to dislodge whatever was stuck to his thigh. He squirmed his way up to a seated position and tried to pry the teeth from his flesh.
"Stop moving." Dad ordered but Sam couldn't see anything beyond the red eyes of the black dog biting him.
"Sam, stop it." Dad said again and Sam couldn't see him but there was another gunshot and the black dog stopped moving. It's grip on his leg didn't release, if anything it got tighter. Sam punched it in the face, tried to pull the jaws apart.
"Dean, hold him still." Dad and Dean came out of the bushes and Dean held Sam down. Sam cried as his father cut off the black dog's head and broke it's jaw. The teeth were slowly pried out of him and Sam sobbed when Dad inspected the wounds.
"You'll be okay Sammy." Dean's fingers rested on the pulse in his throat.
"Hospital."
Dean picked him up. "We'll meet you at the car." Sam moaned as he was jostled in Dean's grasp. "What did you take?" Dean demanded, whispering in his ear. "You gotta tell me, Sam!"
Sam looked at his brother and tried to make sense of the words. "Dean?"
"I'll tell them to test you at the hospital. Fuck Sam, this is dangerous!" Dean stumbled and for a moment Sam thought he was going to fly out of his brother's arms.
"I don't remember." Sam slurred and that was the last thing he remembered until he woke up at the hospital.
--
2001
He'd put his foot down this time. It was more likely Dad hadn't wanted to fight, but Sam took the little victory.
"Get all those weapons clean. And take inventory of the supplies." Dad ordered as Dean packed the car up Friday morning. "Stay here and look after the place. No visitors." Dad put a twenty in his hand.
"Yes sir." Sam locked the door behind him and watched the Impala pull out of the driveway from the kitchen window. A long weekend to himself. Dean and Dad could go off and hunt all the spirits they wanted. He had homework to do and letters to send off. The twenty would go a long way towards paying for postage.
Most of the weapons were gone, all the ones left were old. Sam spread them out on the kitchen counter and wiped his rust covered fingers off on his jeans. He had time to do them later, there were better things to do now.
Sam flicked his knife open and stretched his jacket out on the floor. He split the stitches inside one of pockets and pulled out a package of pills. These were the ones he'd been saving. Dad had been in the hospital two months ago and Sam had swiped everything he could.
"Letters first." Sam murmured to himself. He left the pills on the table and dug his secret envelope of university applications from the bottom of his backpack. It didn't take him long to put the finishing touches on his packages and he organized them. He just needed to buy smaller envelopes and stamps and they were ready to go.
The cupboards were mostly empty and Sam was hungrier for the pills than anything else. He made a pot of coffee to drink in the morning. Sometimes he needed help snapping out of the place the pills sent him to. There were ten pills in his package right now and Sam counted them out. It took more than half a pill to get him where he needed to go now
He took three of the pills and climbed into bed. Sometime in the night he woke up and there was a burning pain in his stomach. Sam stumbled out of the bedroom to the kitchen and took a few more of the pills on the table. They always took away his pain.
Sam woke up to a loud banging. He was on the couch in the kitchen combo living room and there was no light coming in from the windows. The banging stopped, but it continued in his head. Something in his stomach turned and Sam pushed himself up off the couch and opened the door.
"Sam? Your daddy told me you'd be here."
"Bobby?" Sam coughed and the burning from his stomach travelled up his throat. Bobby came in just in time for Sam to throw up all over him.
"Shit kiddo. You sick?" Bobby kicked off his shoes and followed Sam into the tiny bathroom.
Sam shook his head and spewed more bile into the toilet.
"I'll be back." Bobby backed out of the bathroom and Sam focused on not moving and keeping his stomach contents where they belonged.
"What did you take?" Bobby lifted him up and shook him. Sam heaved and he was put back in front of the toilet. "Throw it all up." Bobby ordered. "I'll stick my fingers down your throat if I have to."
Sam choked and puked and swore and puked some more. Bobby didn't let him stop until all that came out was stringy yellow bile.
"What did you take?" Bobby demanded again.
Sam sipped the glass of what he'd been allowed. "Just a couple of pills. I didn't think, Bobby, I wasn't trying to. . . you know."
"Kill yourself?" Sam nodded and looked at his vomit soaked socks.
"Are you going to tell my dad?"
"Where are the rest of your pills?" Bobby demanded and Sam handed over the few that remained. "This is all of it?"
"Yeah." Sam clutched his arms around his stomach. "Did you need something?"
"Just a place to crash kid." Bobby striped him out of his gross clothes and helped him into clean pyjamas. "You planning on leaving? I saw your letters."
"Please Bobby, you can't say anything! Dad would. . .if he knew."
"Aw shit kiddo." Bobby tucked him in. "Just tell your brother. It's gonna hurt him but you need out. Keep living."
He was gone when Sam woke up.
--
2002
It wasn't what he was expecting. The bus ride had been long and there wasn't any real identification in his wallet to get his student card and his residence key.
Sam knocked on the door to room 412 before he unlocked it and stepped inside. His roommate wasn't there yet. Sam dropped his bags on one of the beds and took off his sweater. He flipped through the papers he'd been given until he found the map of the building. Showers were on the other side of the floor but there was supposed to be a bathroom close by. With his new student card tucked in his pocket, Sam locked up and headed down the hall.
He checked all the stalls in the bathroom. He was alone in there and he didn't feel guilty locking himself in the handicapped stall.
Sam took the bottle of pills out of his jacket. There were almost thirty shaking around in it and his hand shook as he studied them. He wasn't going to need them anymore, he got out. There wouldn't be any long hikes in the dark or hours of weapons training and callisthenics.
The lid popped off the bottle easily, he'd broken the child lock years ago. Sam closed his eyes and tipped the pills into the toilet. They clattered against the porcelain and he opened his eyes to watch them make the water cloudy as they dissolved.
He flushed the toilet three times, just to make sure they were all gone.
--
2005
It had been years since he'd been in a motel. Sam dropped his backpack on the bed and tried not to listen for the thump. His bag wasn't full of school books, papers, and a lunch anymore. There were clean clothes on top and he changed out of his jeans, they still smelled like smoke, the quick wash at a Laundromat hadn't done anything for the smell.
"I'm gonna get something to eat." Dean said, coming out of the bathroom. "What do you want?"
Sam shrugged.
"You gotta eat. I'll get you some of those noodles and broccoli. Still like that?"
Sam didn't say anything. Jess liked Chinese, it was a little beyond their budget, but once and a while they'd go out. They always split the same two dishes, broccoli and beef with lo mien. He didn't want Chinese from some one horse town place where the broccoli was three years old and the cook had never washed his hands.
"I'll be back soon." Dean slammed the door behind him and Sam curled up on the bed furthest from the door.
There was a bottle of pills in his pocket. After the fire, they'd insisted he go to the hospital and Sam had lifted a wide array of supplies. Most of them he'd turned over to Dean for their first aid kit, but he'd kept these for himself.
Sam took out the pills and spilled them on his bed to count them. He'd gotten into the nursing supply closet and the bottle was full, sixty pills in all. Enough to last him a long time, to stop the burning pain in his chest and get the smell of fire and smoke out of his nose. Or at least make it not matter so much.
He had to open a bottle of water to get them down. It had been a long time since he'd dry swallowed.
Part II
Fandom: Supernatural
Prompt: Substance Addiction
Medium: Fic
Wordcount: 2,983
Rating: R
Warnings: Substance Abuse, Implied Suicide Attempt, Canon Character Death
Summary: Inspired by this prompt from LaueHime's Winchester Hurt/Comfort Festival a long time ago: I like the idea of Sam trying to deal with hating hunting and the life they live through addiction (something like pain meds maybe - which would make him jump in front of the line of fire if it meant getting hurt and fed a dose of his beloved relief). From then on, there are many possibilities the story could turn to. Dean and/or John could find out, or Sam could accidentally take in a bigger dose than he should've, or he could get into trouble. That's up to you, of course!
--
1996
Pastor Jim gave him his first Percocet. Sam had been up all night, tossing and turning from the pain caused by his broken arm, the masses of bruises that covered his chest and wrapped around his rib cage almost meeting at his spine. He was only thirteen and half the pill was enough to put him out of his misery for the rest of the night and most of the next day.
"Feeling better?" The pastor asked him the next morning and Sam nodded. His head still felt separate from his body and the pain was there, but it was floating beyond a veil and didn't seem all that real.
He forgot about the pill for a while after that.
--
1997
"Sam! Sam, you okay?" Dean shook him, his fingers dug hard into Sam's dislocated shoulder. They were squatting in the mud and he had to be quiet, but his shoulder hurt so bad and each breath he drew in jostled it and he could feel the butt print on his shoulder blade.
Sam tried to reassure his brother, but all that came out as a moan and Dean's eyes widened.
"Hey, you'll be okay. Open your mouth for me." And Sam's big brother put a pill on his tongue and gave him a few sips of water to swallow it down.
The pill put him out for a while and when Sam woke up he was tucked in on the couch in their crappy one bedroom apartment. He didn't hurt anymore, he felt spacey and his shoulder was tingley.
"How you doing? You with us now?"
Sam blinked and tried to focus on his father's face. "Wha?"
"You're okay." Dad rubbed Sam's shoulder, the one that hadn't gotten hurt. "I popped your shoulder right back in, you took a swing at me when I carried you in, so it's probably okay."
Sam wiggled his fingers and brushed them against his leg. They were all still there and he could feel all of them.
"How's it feel?" Dad touched his other shoulder, the one that had been hurt. Sam winced as his father's strong fingers palpated it and forced his arm up to test his range of motion.
"Tingly." Sam said and the word felt thick in his mouth.
"Pain meds will be wearing off soon." Dad stood and Sam craned his neck to follow him. "Dean, I need the kit!"
Sam took the pill his father offered and slipped off to sleep where his shoulder didn't feel tingly and he didn't have to do anything he didn't want too.
--
1997
He picked himself up off the ground and stumbled away from the open grave. Each breath made his ribs burn and he didn't think he was going to be able to force enough air down his swelling throat to keep breathing.
"Matches!" Sam heard his father yell. When he heard the familiar crackle of flames and the smell of rotting flesh was replaced with wholesome fire, he let himself fall back to the earth and curl around his aching chest.
"Damn it Sam!" Dad rolled him over and pressed on his neck. Sam gasped for air and choked when the fingers went away and pulled up his shirt. "What the hell were you thinking? I told you to move!"
Sam let out a strangled cry when Dad squeezed his chest and the burning pain shot through his anew.
"Dad! Can't you see you're hurting him?" Dean pushed Dad away and let Sam lean on him. He rubbed Sam's back as Sam gasped for air. "I'll meet you back at the car. Get the kit ready."
Sam couldn't help it. He started to cry, it just hurt so much.
"Hey, it'll be okay. I'll wrap up your ribs. I think we've still got some good pills from my broken arm." Dean picked him up and cradled him in his arms, arranging it so his arms didn't put force onto Sam's broken ribs.
They gave him a pill back at the car and another when he woke up. Dean fed him soup when his broken fingers couldn't manage the spoon and Sam's hands shook until Dean gave him another half pill.
"Ready for school?" Dean asked two mornings later.
Sam nodded and limbed to the kitchen table. He made it through a piece of toast and a cup of coffee before he looked up and tried to look pitiful. "Dean, my ribs still hurt."
"Yeah, they're gonna hurt for a while." But Dean knelt down next to his chair and pulled up his shirt to inspect his side. "Hurt here?" He pressed in a couple of places and Sam didn't have to fake his pain and winces. "I'll get you an ice pack for the car."
"There any Advil left?" Sam asked when Dean had the kit out.
"Uh, yeah."
"Can you get me some water?" Sam asked and when Dean turned his back to fill a cup, Sam pocketed one of the little sample packs of the good pills.
"Here." Dean gave him water and Sam took the three Advil he was offered.
He saved the good pills for the next hunt.
--
1998
"You'll hike up the ridge and we'll try to trap it in here." Dad sketched out the movements with broad lines on the new map. "Keep your eyes open and for the love of god be quiet."
"Yes sir. Right Sammy?"
Sam nodded and felt the little package of pills in his pocket. "I guess."
Dad frowned but he didn't say anything. "An hour after sundown Dean. I'll be ready."
Dean nodded and Sam followed him into the forest they had to hike through.
Ten minutes later Sam stopped walking. "I gotta take a piss."
Dean grunted but he stopped walking and leaned against a tree. "Hurry up princess."
Sam took twenty steps into the wood and ripped open the pill package. He broke one of the pills in half and dry swallowed it. For a second it stuck in his throat, but that past and he rejoined his brother.
The rest of the hike and the hunt based in sort of a blissful distance for him. He was cold and wet, but he didn't really feel it. The recoil of the rifle didn't bother him and he didn't feel any of the mosquito bites until the pill had worn off and they'd come home.
Sam fingered his remaining pills. He had long day at school, but the next hunt would be worse. He taped the package shut and kept it in his jacket pocket, the one that still zipped shut.
--
1999
Dean was on to him. Sam only had one pill left in his package and there weren't any more in the first aid kit. He twitched all the time now, when he did his homework, when he sat through boring classes. The pill package was burning a hole in his pocket and Sam couldn't stop touching it, reassuring himself it was there.
Dean scowled every time Sam put his hand in his pocket, but he never said anything.
"Black dog in Grimsby." Dad announced one Thursday night. "Pack your stuff. We're leaving at first light."
The car ride was almost unbearable. Sam fingered the pill and tried to wait it out. He'd want it more later, but he wanted it an awful lot right now. The forest they were searching was full of campers and Sam was laden down with weapons. He popped the pill and used the compass to follow the path Dad had traced out on the map.
Most of the hunt passed in sort of an odd blissful state. Sam made it to the mouth of the cave and climbed a tree. He got out his gun and rested it against a branch. It was heavy, his head was heavy. Sam readjusted his position in the tree until he could lean back on a sturdy branch.
"SAM!" The voice startled him to wakefulness and Sam jumped. He was falling, forward and Dean yelled his name again. "SAM!"
Sam hit the ground hard and groaned, the wind knocked out of him. He tried to sit up, take stock of the situation. Before he could move, something clapped onto his leg.
"SAM!" There was a gunshot in the air and Sam felt hot pain slice through his leg. He shook himself, trying to dislodge whatever was stuck to his thigh. He squirmed his way up to a seated position and tried to pry the teeth from his flesh.
"Stop moving." Dad ordered but Sam couldn't see anything beyond the red eyes of the black dog biting him.
"Sam, stop it." Dad said again and Sam couldn't see him but there was another gunshot and the black dog stopped moving. It's grip on his leg didn't release, if anything it got tighter. Sam punched it in the face, tried to pull the jaws apart.
"Dean, hold him still." Dad and Dean came out of the bushes and Dean held Sam down. Sam cried as his father cut off the black dog's head and broke it's jaw. The teeth were slowly pried out of him and Sam sobbed when Dad inspected the wounds.
"You'll be okay Sammy." Dean's fingers rested on the pulse in his throat.
"Hospital."
Dean picked him up. "We'll meet you at the car." Sam moaned as he was jostled in Dean's grasp. "What did you take?" Dean demanded, whispering in his ear. "You gotta tell me, Sam!"
Sam looked at his brother and tried to make sense of the words. "Dean?"
"I'll tell them to test you at the hospital. Fuck Sam, this is dangerous!" Dean stumbled and for a moment Sam thought he was going to fly out of his brother's arms.
"I don't remember." Sam slurred and that was the last thing he remembered until he woke up at the hospital.
--
2001
He'd put his foot down this time. It was more likely Dad hadn't wanted to fight, but Sam took the little victory.
"Get all those weapons clean. And take inventory of the supplies." Dad ordered as Dean packed the car up Friday morning. "Stay here and look after the place. No visitors." Dad put a twenty in his hand.
"Yes sir." Sam locked the door behind him and watched the Impala pull out of the driveway from the kitchen window. A long weekend to himself. Dean and Dad could go off and hunt all the spirits they wanted. He had homework to do and letters to send off. The twenty would go a long way towards paying for postage.
Most of the weapons were gone, all the ones left were old. Sam spread them out on the kitchen counter and wiped his rust covered fingers off on his jeans. He had time to do them later, there were better things to do now.
Sam flicked his knife open and stretched his jacket out on the floor. He split the stitches inside one of pockets and pulled out a package of pills. These were the ones he'd been saving. Dad had been in the hospital two months ago and Sam had swiped everything he could.
"Letters first." Sam murmured to himself. He left the pills on the table and dug his secret envelope of university applications from the bottom of his backpack. It didn't take him long to put the finishing touches on his packages and he organized them. He just needed to buy smaller envelopes and stamps and they were ready to go.
The cupboards were mostly empty and Sam was hungrier for the pills than anything else. He made a pot of coffee to drink in the morning. Sometimes he needed help snapping out of the place the pills sent him to. There were ten pills in his package right now and Sam counted them out. It took more than half a pill to get him where he needed to go now
He took three of the pills and climbed into bed. Sometime in the night he woke up and there was a burning pain in his stomach. Sam stumbled out of the bedroom to the kitchen and took a few more of the pills on the table. They always took away his pain.
Sam woke up to a loud banging. He was on the couch in the kitchen combo living room and there was no light coming in from the windows. The banging stopped, but it continued in his head. Something in his stomach turned and Sam pushed himself up off the couch and opened the door.
"Sam? Your daddy told me you'd be here."
"Bobby?" Sam coughed and the burning from his stomach travelled up his throat. Bobby came in just in time for Sam to throw up all over him.
"Shit kiddo. You sick?" Bobby kicked off his shoes and followed Sam into the tiny bathroom.
Sam shook his head and spewed more bile into the toilet.
"I'll be back." Bobby backed out of the bathroom and Sam focused on not moving and keeping his stomach contents where they belonged.
"What did you take?" Bobby lifted him up and shook him. Sam heaved and he was put back in front of the toilet. "Throw it all up." Bobby ordered. "I'll stick my fingers down your throat if I have to."
Sam choked and puked and swore and puked some more. Bobby didn't let him stop until all that came out was stringy yellow bile.
"What did you take?" Bobby demanded again.
Sam sipped the glass of what he'd been allowed. "Just a couple of pills. I didn't think, Bobby, I wasn't trying to. . . you know."
"Kill yourself?" Sam nodded and looked at his vomit soaked socks.
"Are you going to tell my dad?"
"Where are the rest of your pills?" Bobby demanded and Sam handed over the few that remained. "This is all of it?"
"Yeah." Sam clutched his arms around his stomach. "Did you need something?"
"Just a place to crash kid." Bobby striped him out of his gross clothes and helped him into clean pyjamas. "You planning on leaving? I saw your letters."
"Please Bobby, you can't say anything! Dad would. . .if he knew."
"Aw shit kiddo." Bobby tucked him in. "Just tell your brother. It's gonna hurt him but you need out. Keep living."
He was gone when Sam woke up.
--
2002
It wasn't what he was expecting. The bus ride had been long and there wasn't any real identification in his wallet to get his student card and his residence key.
Sam knocked on the door to room 412 before he unlocked it and stepped inside. His roommate wasn't there yet. Sam dropped his bags on one of the beds and took off his sweater. He flipped through the papers he'd been given until he found the map of the building. Showers were on the other side of the floor but there was supposed to be a bathroom close by. With his new student card tucked in his pocket, Sam locked up and headed down the hall.
He checked all the stalls in the bathroom. He was alone in there and he didn't feel guilty locking himself in the handicapped stall.
Sam took the bottle of pills out of his jacket. There were almost thirty shaking around in it and his hand shook as he studied them. He wasn't going to need them anymore, he got out. There wouldn't be any long hikes in the dark or hours of weapons training and callisthenics.
The lid popped off the bottle easily, he'd broken the child lock years ago. Sam closed his eyes and tipped the pills into the toilet. They clattered against the porcelain and he opened his eyes to watch them make the water cloudy as they dissolved.
He flushed the toilet three times, just to make sure they were all gone.
--
2005
It had been years since he'd been in a motel. Sam dropped his backpack on the bed and tried not to listen for the thump. His bag wasn't full of school books, papers, and a lunch anymore. There were clean clothes on top and he changed out of his jeans, they still smelled like smoke, the quick wash at a Laundromat hadn't done anything for the smell.
"I'm gonna get something to eat." Dean said, coming out of the bathroom. "What do you want?"
Sam shrugged.
"You gotta eat. I'll get you some of those noodles and broccoli. Still like that?"
Sam didn't say anything. Jess liked Chinese, it was a little beyond their budget, but once and a while they'd go out. They always split the same two dishes, broccoli and beef with lo mien. He didn't want Chinese from some one horse town place where the broccoli was three years old and the cook had never washed his hands.
"I'll be back soon." Dean slammed the door behind him and Sam curled up on the bed furthest from the door.
There was a bottle of pills in his pocket. After the fire, they'd insisted he go to the hospital and Sam had lifted a wide array of supplies. Most of them he'd turned over to Dean for their first aid kit, but he'd kept these for himself.
Sam took out the pills and spilled them on his bed to count them. He'd gotten into the nursing supply closet and the bottle was full, sixty pills in all. Enough to last him a long time, to stop the burning pain in his chest and get the smell of fire and smoke out of his nose. Or at least make it not matter so much.
He had to open a bottle of water to get them down. It had been a long time since he'd dry swallowed.
Part II