HOLYFUCK. WOW. 

Just putting under the cut for the sake of my dash but wow yall should read this.

tigerthetaoiseach:

the first time he thought to ask his father:

“Hey Daddy. How come Dean gots tah take all dis pills every day?”

Dean had been taking them as long as Sam could remember, although admittedly, that wasn’t very long. Dean just rolled his eyes and finished his milk while their father struggled for an answer.

“Well, there’s a bad thing in his head and the pills make it so that it can’t hurt him. It’s very important that he always takes them.”

Sam had nodded sagely.

Sam was eight the first time Dean complained about the pills.

“It really sucks, I mean. Like I wake up and I’m fine and then I take them and I’m super hyper. My teachers are always yelling at me to sit still and it’s like I just can’t!”

“Is that why you always beat me in training?”

Sam asked, trying to understand. Sam tried his best to look indignant, but his face fell at Dean’s expression. Dean sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Not that kind of energy. I dunno. It’s like I feel so powerless because I can’t just sit down and be quiet. I dunno. Never mind.”

Sam had frowned. He didn’t want the bad thing in Dean’s head to hurt him, but he didn’t like seeing Dean so sad.

Sam was ten the first time he caught his brother jacking off.

Their father was away, he was only supposed to have been gone a couple of days, but it was four days later. They had the motel room for another few days and Sam didn’t want to think about what would happen if their father didn’t come home.

Sam had been frustrated. Dean was hogging the shower and was taking a lot longer than normal. Sam finally stomped in.

“Dean!”

Sam had yanked back the shower curtain, only to gape at his brother. Dean had gasped at the sight of Sam there, already too far gone to do anything but continue over the edge, clumsily yanking at himself until he was finished.

Sam just blinked. He only knew about sex in a vague way, but Dean had never mentioned this. Dean was panting and bracing himself against the wall, eyes boring intently into Sam’s.

“You do not tell Dad about this. Got it?”

Sam had nodded dumbly. He wasn’t sure why that was important, but he wasn’t going to betray Dean’s trust.

Sam was twelve when he first actually understood what Dean’s pills were for.

It had been an accident. Dad had been in a hurry when he was packing them up and had tossed Dean’s medication into Sam’s bag by mistake, probably figuring he’d take it out when they got to the next motel. Except, they had stopped at a gas station and Dean and Dad had needed to pee so Sam waited in the car. He remembered that he had stashed a KitKat bar in his bag and went pawing through it.

Thioridazine

Sam looked it up the next time he was in the library. He spent hours pouring over medical textbooks, learning about anti-psychotic medication and wondering why he’d never thought to check any of this out before. So many things made sense now.

Like how sometimes, especially in the mornings, Dean would stand up too quickly and get really dizzy. Or why he was always bouncing off the walls, driving Sam nuts. Sam cringed when he saw the enormous section on Sexual Dysfunction Associated with Thioridazine.

Sam was fourteen the first time he had a crush on a girl.

Her name was Amy and it was all just a bad situation. She wasn’t human. She killed her mother so that Sam could get away because he’d wanted to touch her soft hair and she’d wanted someone to be her friend.

He’d even called Dean, what a fool he’d been, to ask how to talk to a girl. Of course, Dean had ribbed him, like all big brothers do, made fun of him for the rest of the phone call. Sam had been too nervous and excited to hear how forced the cheer in Dean’s voice had been.

Sam regretted everything that happened.

Well, he wasn’t sure what had transpired, just that when Dean and Dad came back, they were both covered in blood. Sam prayed that they hadn’t killed Amy. When he finally broke down later, Dean didn’t ask what was wrong or press him for details. He just rubbed his hand in small circles while Sam cried himself to sleep, snuggled tightly against his brother’s side.

If Sam heard the sigh of relief or how Dean would murmur

“Mine.”

every few minutes, well. He was falling asleep. He could have easily imagined it.

Sam was sixteen the first time he kissed a boy.

His name was Daemon and yeah Sam saw the irony in that, but Daemon was cute and funny and Sam had just his the beginning of his growth spurt and Daemon was one of the few boys at school who was still taller than him.

And if he’d had luminous green eyes and too many freckles, then Sam figured it for a coincidence. Green eyes were pretty common right? And Led Zepplin t-shirts were probably just cheaper.

It hadn’t been on Sam’s agenda to kiss him, it just sort of happened. Like a lot of other things in Sam’s life. Unfortunately, this happened under a tree on the outskirts of their school where Sam would normally wait for Dean and where Daemon would wave and start his walk to a nearby bus stop.

It was impulsive and it was silly and it turned out to be a huge mistake, but Daemon had just called him Bitch and Sam couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and there was no finesse and nothing fancy. Just a soft, press of the lips. Daemon’s mouth opened in surprise and Sam sighed into it.

Sam never anticipated the punch.

“Fucking faggot! Oh my God!”

Sam blinked, reeling. He had never figured Daemon for a homophobe. Sam didn’t know what was going on. He still didn’t know a few minutes later when he was seated firmly in the Impala’s front seat with the stern warning:

“Don’t you dare turn around.”

Sam was too stunned to do anything but sit there. Back at the motel, Dean had bandaged Sam’s face and ribs with the utmost tender care. He deemed the ribs only bruised, but still kept Sam home for the next week and a half, waiting on him hand and foot.

Sam ignored how Dean had had to through out his clothes from that day because it had been so badly stained. They’d moved a few days later.

Sam was eighteen the first time he realized that he was in love with his brother.

Sam wasn’t exactly surprised. He did some reading and was even less surprised. Growing up the way they had, well. It didn’t matter. The problem was that he knew Dean would do anything for him and what if Dean just pretended to feel that way to make Sam happy? Sam couldn’t take that chance.

So he went to Stanford.

Dean let him go, not speaking to him for a few months then calling him every day before ignoring him for another few months. Sam never asked about the months he didn’t call and Dean never volunteered. He didn’t need Sam to know just how much he was falling apart without him.

Dean didn’t mention how he was only taking his meds sporadically.

Sam was twenty the first time he drunk dialed his brother

It would have been fairly unremarkable except the end of the conversation. Sam had just confessed to missing his brother so much and how he felt really bad about everything and his grades were slipping and he was afraid he’d lose his scholarship.

Dean had listened silently.

“Sammy. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.”

Sam had believed him. He’d also heard the six gunshots in a row and a lot of shuffling noises. He could hear Dean’s heavy breathing from his pocket where Dean hadn’t shut his phone all the way.

“Don’t look so sad there. It’s gonna be okay. You’re going to be helping my Sammy. Aren’t you so proud of him? See what he’s doing? But he’s having a little trouble, needs our help a little bit, so we’re gonna help him and make sure everything is gonna be okay cause that’s our job right?”

Dean continued crooning long after Sam had passed out, phone still pressed against his ear.

Sam was twenty two the first time he lost someone he really loved

He couldn’t remember Mom so she didn’t really count. It was funny because he really loved Jess. Truly. And he hadn’t heard from Dean in a year. Not too long after the drunk dialing night, a huge sum of money and a bunch of textbooks had come in the mail for him, along with a new sweatshirt. The sweatshirt had smelled like Dean and the textbooks were for law school, something he didn’t remember telling Dean he was considering.

Sam didn’t want to know where the money had come from.

It wasn’t too long after that that he’d met Jess and Dean had stopped calling and his number got disconnected. Sam was wrecked. He could barely function. The only reason he kept going was for Dean, figuring something had to have gone wrong.

He didn’t find out until much later that Dad had finally broken down and sent Dean to a hospital. Or that Dean had broken out of there and was actually on the run from Dad, not looking for him at all when he came to get Sam.

Sam was twenty four the first time he realized that hunting monsters wasn’t the only reason their family moved around so much.

That maybe there was a reason that everyone he’d ever cared for or been sexually attracted to died. He reasoned with himself, statistically some of it was accidental. Or a mistake. It wasn’t like Dean would ever hurt him. Or that he even realized what was going on a lot of the time. It was the time when Sam had to start watching Dean every morning and cajoling him to take the pills. When Sam had to be there whether Dean took them or not.

When he had to make up stories about bar fights to explain away injuries and nights Dean couldn’t remember.

It was also the time when he realized that Dean was it for him and anyone else he got involved with would just end up dead. Like everyone else. Except for Dean. Never Dean.

That’s why he didn’t think twice about using Ruby. Why, after a little while of forgetting himself, he went back to Dean after Amy.

That’s why he could never stay mad at Dean for very long.