broken ➳ destiel

one

"depression is being colorblind and constantly told how colorful the world is." atticus

☁

Darkness captivated the hurt boy as the worried one was taking him out of the car, his weight pulling down on Sam.

He took him to the nearest hospital, practically carrying Dean. Doctors quickly rushed over to the both of them, asking Sam hundreds of questions at the same time.

The tall one snapped, telling them to help him. They put him on a gurney and transported him into another room. Blood was trickling down Dean's face from his nose, and his bones got shaky and fragile.

Doctors chatted among each other about his health. They were doing everything they could, sticking IVs in him and transferring medicine into his blood. A PET scan showed that his brain was tense and had a lack of dopamine. Except, the lack of dopamine was so severe that there was almost no possible way he could survive.

They laid him down in a bed, him still painfully sleeping. Giving him liquid pain relievers, they let Sam come in to see him. They had just explained that he was prescribed with a dopamine inefficiency and tears were rolling down his cheeks.

He sat down on the edge of the hospital bed, just by his feet. 

"Why did this happen?" Sam whispered, and a doctor came in to tell him exactly that.

"We figured out that the inefficiency was caused by an absence of a healthy diet, a regulated sleep schedule, and a high amount of stress. He is your brother, correct?" The doctor was looking at a clipboard, and Sam's face was painted with emotions. He couldn't believe that hunting could've caused something like this. He felt lots of guilt.

"Yes." Sam replied, looking at his brother. He wiped away the tears, he had to be tough for him since he was tough for the both of them his whole life.

"How much sleep does he get?"

The tall visitor answered the questions to the doctor, and he had lied and said that his job at the mechanic shop seemed to be taking over his life. He explained that it put a lot of stress on him. Sam didn't want to lie, but their hunting life has hurt a lot of people who know about it, and so therefore they swore not to tell anybody unless completely necessary.

Sam didn't think it was necessary. He left the room, and left the hospital, and checked out in a motel, as it seemed like they were going to stay there for a long time.

Was Dean going to die?

He couldn't, not this time. Sam knew that Dean was stronger than him, and he could get through some disorder.. with medication of course. The doctor also told Dean that he needed to get a counselor, as symptoms of depression and anxiety seemed to grow worse, and the doctor said the counselor could prescribe it.

The way the doctor was telling him the things he needed to know, they described it like they know he's going to survive. Sam had almost every ounce in him saying that he will, but a part of him also thinks he won't. The younger one felt bad that he thought that way, but life seemed to always get him down at the worst times. They were hunting a creature that they seemed to have never hunted before, and this just had to happen right as they were getting on its tail.

The tiny ounce that kept telling Sam that Dean was not going to make it kept tugging at him. It scared Sam and he didn't want to believe it at all, but as hours went by, that ounce turned into a chance, and the chance turned into a percent. Sam sat on one of the queen beds, his hands cupping his face and covering his eyes.