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It starts like this.
You're sitting in the bunker with your little brother and he refuses to eat.
His girlfriend is dead.
You make him his rabbit food and talk to distract him, all the tricks that have helped in the past, but he refuses to eat. You tell him he should know better, you guys have work to do, but Sammy says he's just tired. You know that's not it.
It's Eileen.
And, yeah, maybe you don't get it. You can't relate to this, couldn't even imagine. But you know that Sam needs to ignore it, just for now, so you and Cas and Jack can fight God. It sucks but it's what needs to be done. Sammy can't stay in this funk as long as he did last time.
It starts like this.
You're in another dimension with your little brother and he refuses to eat.
The devil just saved his life.
The devil just saved his life and you want to rip his throat out. His hands keep landing on Sammy's shoulders and you know there's some kind of history there but you refuse to think about it. Because if you think about what the devil has done to your brother then things will get ugly. You don't have time to analyze Sam's flinches and jumps because you need to find Mom and get the hell out of dodge.
Jack is excited to see them, both of them, so you try to school your emotions while you feed and water your brother. But Sam looks terrified whenever the food gets close to his mouth and you can't let yourself think of why or else you'll try and kill the devil again. The only thing you can do is wait it out and hope Sam will want to eat later. Hope it's like last time.
It starts like this.
You're home again with your little brother and he refuses to eat.
You, Cas, and Mary can only do so much. And isn't that just wild? You're trying to be with Mary, not mom because it's still too awkward, as much as you can. You have a lot of time to make up.
Sam doesn't feel the same way. Sam is still kind of freaked out about the whole thing, and you're sure the royal torture isn't helping. He spends more time in his room than ever. You don't know when or even if he sneaks out at night to eat. When you actually get to see him he looks weak.
There's only so many sandwiches you can leave to rot on his dresser so, eventually, you decide to just let him sort it out alone again.
It starts like this.
You're in a church with your little brother and he refuses to eat.
He's about to kill himself.
He wants to die, thinks it's some sort of atonement for all the shit he's put you through. You want to close the gates, of course you do, but not at the cost of your family. The trials- or whatever the hell this is- have been hurting him. Sam being hurt has been hurting you.
This is the skinniest you've ever seen him in years and it's breaking your heart.
He tells you he's sorry and that finishing this trial will fix everything, make up for it all. He'll kill himself to earn your love. You tell him there's nothing to make up, nothing to earn. You just want him happy and healthy and alive. He looks like a small breeze could knock him over. You don't know when he got so bad.
It starts like this.
You're sitting in a motel room with your little brother and he refuses to eat.
Not having a soul means he tends to ignore his basic needs.
You have to remind Sammy to drink water; you have to convince him he needs to sleep. If you go out alone, it's only after making sure Sam eats toast or something or else he'll get lost in research until you get back and you blow up at him. It got pretty ugly last time. You just don't get why he doesn't understand. What does having a soul have to do with the bare minimum to live?
One night, you think about asking him if he's even trying. Does he even want to stay alive? Does he want to get his soul back? You're too scared of the answer to even form the words. You didn't like what he had to say last time.
It starts like this.
You're standing in the panic room with your little brother and he refuses to eat.
Detox is a bitch and the angel can't help.
Sam is sweating and cursing and crying. He's ripping his hair out and seizing. You try to give him food but even the smell has him doubling over and gagging. Throwing up bloody bile.
He asks you to put him out of his misery.
You tell him not to drink demon blood again.
He passes out again.
You don't think Sam has eaten any actual food for a while, only blood. Bobby makes some soup, nice and gentle, for when Sammy wakes back up. Just in case he can handle something this time. You don't know where the angel went, but you're more than happy he left for now.
It takes all night and part of the next morning but eventually your baby brother is coherent enough to talk to. You ask him if he remembers what he said between the seizures and blood and he's deadly serious when he says he does. He says he can't help but feel that all your problems would've been solved if you just listened to him for once.
You ask him to have a burger, some soup, a glass of water, anything. He says he's still nauseous. You leave the basement feeling like you should know how to deal with his episodes by now.
It starts like this.
You're driving to your death with your little brother and he refuses to eat.
You don't think you can blame him.
Sammy hasn't really been eating much over the past year. You’re worried about what will happen if things don't go well. Whenever you try to find a way to ask him what's going on, you chicken out and just get him more food. He eats, but only a few bites of the stuff you give him. Sam hasn't gotten food on his own since he came back after the deal you made to save him.
You don't know how to deal with this. Sam's chick flick moments, only they're not so much moments anymore. It's just who he is now. Maybe it's who he's been since you took him away from school.
It starts like this.
You're sitting in the Impala with your little brother and he refuses to eat.
His girlfriend is dead.
And you've never been good with emotions so you just ignore it and hope he'll get better on his own. You have bigger things to worry about. You have to find dad.