Summary:  Sam started the downward spiral right after the events in Cold Oak. The deal, the fear, and the panic that ensues.
Spoilers:  Set after "All Hell Breaks Loose".
Disclaimer:  All things "Supernatural" belong to Kripke.

Sam started the downward spiral right after the events in Cold Oak. He couldn’t recall what had happened there, only what his brother told him; but he knew he had died, and he knew Dean had sold his soul to the crossroad demon to bring him back. Why, why would he do that? He was also aware of the strange dread that kept creeping over his body, the ringing in his ears, the catching in his chest, the blurring in his vision, and the constant jumbled thoughts whispering in his brain. Those things he fought daily, with a vengeance; the emotions threatening to roll over him like a tidal wave. He clutched his hands tightly in his lap, fists clinched, his eyes on the road, and his comments to a minimum; afraid that the tone in his voice might give him away.

He couldn’t sleep, he really wanted to; he tried, but it kept evading him. In the middle of the night, he would just set up in the bed, blinking bleary eyes at his sleeping brother and snap open the laptop; searching, scouring, looking for answers. Lately he would laugh quietly to himself, chuckling into the silence. It was a strange laugh, one that he had never heard coming from his lips, wild, erratic. He found it quite funny that they had killed the demon, and he still couldn’t sleep. He now was living a new nightmare, a waking nightmare, twenty four hours a day; sitting like a stone on his chest. He spent all his time awake, eyes never wanting to close. In the daylight, he watched his brother, wanting to keep him in his vision. In the darkness, he researched, listening to his brother breathe in the darkness. He hated that he felt like everything was spiraling out of control. The magnitude of it all was holding him tightly; suffocating him every day. For the first time in his life, he was scared, really scared; and nothing he did, or said, made the feeling go away, so he gulped it back down, not wanting his brother to see. The fear of loosing Dean gripped at him, and it was unrelenting, unforgiving, and unbearable.

Dean noticed something was up with his little brother right after Cold Oak; at first he just ignored it, just glad that Sam was alive and breathing, still with him. He knew he had made the deal, the deal of his life; but he did not care. His brother was the most important thing to him; he took the deal, because it saved his brother. The two days he spent grieving for Sam was all just a blur to him now; he made the right choice, if he had to do it all again, he would do the same thing. He laughed to himself, maybe he had not thought this through very well; in his quest to save his brother, he was going to leave ‘His Sammy’ alone, that thought making his heart ache.

The silence was wearing thin on Dean’s nerves; he had made numerous attempts to talk to Sam the last three weeks. They stopped at random motels and ate at remote diners. Dean talked on the phone to Bobby, to Ellen, and tried to talk to Sam; but he had shut down after Cold Oak. They made small conversations, about the weather, the drive, nothing in general. Sam was extremely quiet, bottling up his emotions, keeping them in check, and that worried Dean.

“You want anything little brother?” He leaned across the seat, hand resting on Sam’s shoulder. He noticed Sam quivered gently in his grasp.

Sam’s bloodshot eyes wavered up to his brother as he shook his head. “No.”

“Sam, you okay?” Concern in his tone, Dean gripped Sam’s shoulder tighter, questioning eyes looking at him.

“Yea” Sam’s voice sounded hollow and whispery.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Dean shuffled out of the car, worry weighing heavy on his mind. His brother looked very pale and worn out, it concerned him. He made a mad dash for the grocery store, grabbing something for both of them to drink. He made hasty steps back to the car.

Dean knew something was wrong the moment he opened the driver’s door. He saw large tears flowing down his little brothers checks, despair washing over his brown eyes. His chest heaved up dramatically with each intake of air, hands gripping the dashboard, white knuckled, as his body shuddered.

“De…en…” Sam’s voice was a strangled croak as he struggled to draw in the air around him.

Dean reacted quickly, opening the driver’s door and dashing around the Impala to his brother. He yanked open the passenger door, his hands grabbing Sammy firmly; his knees buckling as he swaying out the door and toward the ground.

“Sam?”

It felt like he could not get any air in his chest as his vision tunneled into darkness. He could hear Dean’s voice in the distance, but he could not seize it. He could feel himself falling; the memories of Cold Oak flashing in his mind. He felt his body being curled into strong arms and heard a voice as it murmured in his ear.

“Sam….Sam. Breathe. Just. Breathe.”

He heard the panic in Dean’s voice and he wanted to react, do what he needed for him to do. He tried to reel in his breathing, calming himself as he was being instructed; but it wasn’t working.

“SAM, Calm Down. Calm down. Shhhhh.”

He could hear his brother saying his name as he struggled to hang onto his voice. Then he felt it, the slow rocking motion, the calming, firm hand at the nap of his neck, the shushing whisper. He remembered this from his childhood; it comforted him, made him feel safe. He slumped boneless into the motion. The blackness slowly starting to fade as his chest struggled in puffs of air.

He sat on the ground, by the open car door, rocking his baby brother, as if he were a small child again; not caring as a crowd seemed to be gathering around them, peering eyes.

“Is he okay?” someone whispered.

“I think he will be” Dean answered as he continued to hug his brother close, watching as his glazed eyes tried to focus.

“Looks like a panic attack to me.” The voice responded from behind him as he scooted in closer to his brother, arms wrapped tightly around his quivery form.

“You need an ambulance?”

“No, No, he’ll be fine. Okay, Sam…let’s get you back in the car. Okay?”

Sam pulled in a raggedy breath of air as he attempted to focus on Dean’s words. He could see the shapes of people gathering around them; hear the whisper of voices. What was he doing on the ground? He felt the steady fingers move from his neck to his back, arms encircling him, pulling him into a standing position, pushing him back toward the car.

“Bend your knees, Sam. Sit back into the car.”

He blinked up at his brother as he tilted into the seat, his legs being lifted and turned. He recognized this place. He leaned his weary head to the bench seat as he heard the door slam shut. He listened as the comforting tone of the Impala’s engine rived up and a steadying motion lulling his racing heart. He felt his brother’s firm fingers weaving through his hair, never faltering, constant, and soothing.

Sam was in no condition to walk. Dean glanced over at him as he arrived at a motel some ten minutes later. He pulled the car into a parking spot, the vacancy sign looming in the windshield. He leaned over toward his little brother, the blue hue of the sign, flashing across his pale features.

“Sam, I’m getting a room. Okay?” He lightly rubbed his hand across his little brother’s forehead and down the side of his face. “Sam?”

Sam vaguely nodded his head, opening his eyes in slits to look at Dean.

Dean hastily exited the car and entered the lobby, eyes watching through the window as his brother lay still in the car.

“Room please.”

The pudgy little man behind the counter wanted to talk. “So, you passing through, or staying for a long haul?” His fat fingers lingered over the registry.

Dean squinted out the window at his brother, then grasped the pages from the little man’s stubby nubs; quickly scribbling his fake name, and ripping the key from the man’s hand.

“Maybe a day or so.” He flung the cash on the counter for the next two nights and scrambled out the door to his brother.

“….Dean?” Sam mumbled as Dean’s fingers curled around the back of his sluggish little brother’s neck. He slouched into his brother as he felt the cool breeze of the nighttime air assaulting his senses. He blinked his eyes, his vision clearing momentarily.

Dean coaxed him from the vehicle. “Sam, I gotcha, lets go…we are right here in room number two. Come on.”

Sam was barely aware of being lugged by his older brother into the motel room, and gently placed on the bed. He felt his shoes being removed and a blanket tucked up around his shoulders. The constant humming in his ears; the burning of his eyes caused him to languish on the bed, body fighting the sleep that called to him. He heard his brother, felt a cool rag being laid on his forehead, and he mumbled. “I’m…not t’rd…”

“Sure you aren’t. Just rest, shhhh…”

The fingers were back, flowing through his hair and across his forehead; lulling him until his eyes were forced to close and succumb to the silence of nothingness.

Sam sat bolt upright in the bed, the room was dark and he could hear his brothers breathing through the silence. How did he get here? Where were they?

It seemed like their arrival and subsequent bedtime evaded him. He blinked several times to rid his crusty eyes; noticing he was still in his clothes from earlier. He shivered and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders. His mind seemed confused, unfocused, and out of sorts. He continued to sit, staring into the blackness as a little shiver slid through his body.

“Sam, lay back down.” A low, reassuring voice whispered across the room.

It startled him, causing him to jump unconsciously, head slowly veering toward the sound. Sam brought a fisted hand up to his eye, rubbing like a small child; eyes straining to see through the darkness.

Dean rose quickly on his socked feet and stepped to Sam’s bed, setting on the edge, he put his arms around his little brother; pushing him tenderly back to the bed. Sam gave weak resistance, letting himself be lowered back, head placed on the soft pillow, his owlish eyes looking up at Dean.

“I can…can’t sleep…need to…laptop?” Sam’s voice sounded shaky in his ears, and very far away. He struggled to sit back up, pushing feebly at the bed and his brother. He felt Dean’s muscular arm’s curl around him, forcing him to stop his flailing motions.

“NO.” A firm tone of voice stated, fingers pulling Sam’s head to Dean’s shoulder; rubbing subconsciously over his hairline and above his ear, over and over and over.

“Have to s’ve you….” Sam’s voice whispered, body falling limply in Dean’s grasp.

Dean’s eyes welled up with tears as he blinked them back from his lids. Jesus, look what I’ve done to my brother. He scooted up on the bed, pulling Sam with him as he continued to struggle lightly in Dean’s grasp. He looked down at his baby brother; the moon shinning through the window, across his exhausted face. He looks so young, so lost, so tired.

“Sam, listen to me. You don’t have to save me tonight, Sammy. Not tonight.” He whispered in his confused little brother’s ear; hand holding him firmly to his chest, fingers roaming slowly through his wayward brown hair.

“…Not nig’t?...” Sam murmured as he began to relax into his brother’s arms; lids slowly pulling closed.

“No…Not tonight; kiddo, not tonight.”

Dean reached down and pulled the blanket up and over them both; holding his baby brother as tightly as he could. The memories of Cold Oak, and his brother’s death passed over him with a shudder. Was he selfish to want to save Sammy, because he couldn’t live without him? Yes, he felt confident he was. But at the time, he didn’t realize, his brother also needed him so desperately. He snuggled his face in the top of Sam’s unruly hair, the faint almond smell wafting into his sinus. Sam and his girly shampoos.

Sam struggled a few more minutes, attempting to escape Dean’s arms; then he let out a small mew, barely audible. “Hav’ta save y’u.”

“I know Sam….shhhh….shhhhh.” Dean whispered in the stillness.

Sam released a light whimper; body curling into Deans. Dean fought to remain in control, his own feelings about to spiral out of control. He blinked back his tears once more. He rested his hand on the top of Sam’s trembling shoulder grasping it firmly in his fingers. Sam mumbled something incoherent and sighed, body relaxing into his older brother.

The sun cast a golden glow over the floor, across the bed, and into Dean’s face. He rolled to his back, feeling something loll into his shoulder. He wretched open his eyes, and squinted into the suns rays; glancing down, he realized it was his brother. He pulled his arm up and seized the blanket between his fingers, pulling it around Sam’s shoulders. Sam blinked open opaque eyes at him, curling his hands up beneath his chin, staring wide-eyed at his brother.

“Hey Sammy.” Dean scooted away from Sam, bedspread wrinkling in the motion; he laid still, eyes watching his baby brother.

Sam wanted to say something, to let Dean know he was okay; but he could not get his overly thick tongue to work. He just looked at him with weary eyes, tears floating just beneath his eyelashes.

Dean gazed at his baby brother’s face, seeing the fear radiating from his features.

“You okay?” Dean whispered, eyes still examining his brother.

Sam’s mind was racing, all the things he wanted to say; simmered just below the surface, but no words came from his lips. His body shivered and he felt Dean bring one hand up and rub up and down his arm, willing the chill away.

“It’s going to be okay, Sammy.”

Tears pooled in the corners of Sam’s eyes and rolled slowly down his face. He shuddered and heaved in a large breathe of air.

“SAM?” Dean pushed back up on the bed, body leaning no the headboard, hands pulling his brother awkwardly to a sitting position. No Sam, don’t do this.

Sam’s anguished face attempted to fight in another breathe of air, vision blurring around the edges. His arms felt all tingly, his fingers numb, as little beads of sweat rose on his forehead and dampened his hair. He struggled to gain control of his senses.

“SAM…you have to stop this. Please, don’t do this to yourself.” Dean gazed at his brother’s face, desperation in his own eyes, hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

“Talk to me.”

Sam blinked his unfocused, bloodshot eyes at his brother; body heaving in air, attempting to draw in his raw emotions.

Dean pulled him to his chest and placed Sam’s head over his own beating heart, fingers flowing nervously through his little brothers hair. He remembered Sam having panic attacks when he was five; when he finally understood their Dad hunted bad things; Sam had been very afraid their Dad wouldn’t come home. The end result a shivering, crying, wheezing little boy. Dean recalled how long it had taken him to help Sammy understand his fear and control it. This time, he was not so sure he could help his brother. This was shear panic; physical and mental, gripping his baby brother.

“Listen to my breathing Sammy, listen and breathe with me.” He whispered as he held him close. Dean was fighting his own uneasiness, attempting to keep his own breathing in check. In. Out. In. Out. I cannot freak out, stay calm, have to help Sam.

“Mmmmm. I’m fin…fine” Sam whimpered, as he struggled against his brother’s firm grip.

“No, no you’re not Sammy.”

Suddenly he stopped struggling; Sam’s fingers wrapped tightly into Dean’s shirt, clasping, unclasping, clasping. Dean could hear the sound of his baby brother’s heartbeat thudding in his chest, feel his breathe coming out in little bursts of air.

“Breathe with me Sammy, come on. That’s it.”

Slowly, Sam’s body began to relax into Dean, air no longer wheezing into his chest; his lazy lids drooping closed.

“You okay kiddo?” Dean helped his brother scoot back on the mattress.

“I’m so…sorry, De...an.” Sam stuttered, blinking unfocused eyes at his brother.

“It’s okay Sammy. It’s okay. You need to talk to me though, let me help you work through this. I hate ‘chick flick moments’, but I hate panic attacks more.” Dean smirked at Sam as he pushed up on the bed and leaned back on the headboard with a sigh.

“I’m n...not having p...panic attack…s.” Sam’s voice quivered. He pursed his lips up in a flat line but made no additional effort to speak; he flopped his arm up over his face, covering his eyes as he released a weary breathe.

Dean could see his brother was shutting down. A small shudder racked Sam’s frame as he tried to gather his thoughts. Dean continued to speak, hoping to lead his brother into a conversation.

“You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

“Some.” Sam whispered.

“Well, not enough, you’re awake when I go to sleep, you’re awake when I get up, so when is all this sleep occurring?”

“Sometimes….”

“Sam….?” Dean’s voice raised slightly, the questioning older brother tone that Sam recognized from his childhood.

Sam slung his arm harshly down to the bed, eyes squinting up and over to Dean’s face. “Okay, I can’t sleep. Okay, you happy now?” He panted in a small breath of air; he could feel the anxiety building up in his chest. “It’s just I…I feel all alone. I don’t’ know wh…why. I can’t explain it…it just….” He pushed his shaky body up to a sitting position, slinging his feet to the floor; shoulders slouching; he struggled to pull in air, his hands resting shakily on his kneecaps.

Dean laid perfectly still, eyes focused on the back of his little brother’s head. He reached his hand up, grasping Sam on the elbow, pulling him lightly back down to the bed.

“Just rest Sammy, please?” Dean’s tone was pleading.

Sam collapsed back up against the pillow, head lolling over to look at his brother; tears glistening in his brown eyes.

“You’re not alone Sam, I’m here.” Dean’s own refection was glistening in his brother’s eyes.

“Not yet. I don’t think….I can’t…I won’t…De……I ca…can’t.” All the emotions that had been building up for three long weeks came slamming out of Sam. In one brief moment the tears welled up and were falling so quickly it racked his long frame. He struggled to take in large gulps between the sobs, gasping for air. Dean rotated on the bed and curled his arms around his little brother.

“Shsh….shhhhhh.” Dean grimaced, his own thoughts overwhelming him. He had not realized how hard this was on Sammy, yes, he had been through some similar emotions with his ‘Dad’s Deal’ last year; but he had not had to watch his Dad daily, waiting for the end to come. He was there, he was gone; end of story. He did not know how to make this better. A real man would leave, so Sam would not have to be a part of his last year. Refrain from making him suffer. That thought alone, made tears well up in his eyes. He could not leave Sam, not now, not knowingly, ever. What about when his year was up, how would he leave him then? He buried that thought in the dark recesses of his mind as his own chest clutched in a tight knot.

“Sammy, it will all be better, after you get some rest. I promise; kiddo. You are exhausted. Let’s just stay here a few days. We can take a break. Okay?”

Sam let out a tiny hiccup as he squeaked a small whisper. “…’Kay De… ‘Kay.” His tear streaked face looking at his brother.

Dean’s hand reached for his brother’s arm, fingers clutching it tightly. An immediate serenity came over Sam; he felt relief, a calmness falling over him as he relaxed into the Dean’s grasp. A break would be nice.

“What you say, you let me worry about it for a while? Dean’s soft voice murmured as he rubbed his other hand on Sam’s neck, a small comforting stroke, over and over. Sam’s lips curled up in a faint smile.

“You used to do…do that when…when I was lit…little.” He blinked glassy brown eyes at his big brother, his bangs falling across his face. “I re...mem…” Was Dean humming? He let his heavy lids fall shut, the comfort of Dean’s steady grasp, lightly moving fingers, and light humming sound pulling him into nothingness.

“Shhhhh….rest, Sammy, shhhhh.” Dean watched Sammy succumb to stillness. He continued his motion, willing his little brother to get the sleep he so desperately needed, calming him, soothing him, holding him like he did so long ago. He was afraid to let go, stop the movement, the humming; the reassurance that his brother needed so badly, so he continued.

The memories of their childhood assaulted Dean’s mind as he comforted his brother. This was something he only shared with Sammy, a calm that they gave to each other; that they had done when they were children. He had forgotten with time, just how much better his baby brother slept, when he was curled up next to him. He had forgotten that he had chased away the nightmares, the darkness, and the fear. That this was what Sam needed when he was afraid, just to feel protected, and not alone. It was their little secret; and obviously, something ‘His Sammy’ still needed.