Echoes of Hell (Supernatural Fanfiction Book 4)

Breaking Point Plan

Sam's Point of View

I'm trying to avoid everyone, to stay out of the way and let them focus on what really matters—Dean's recovery. But it's hard to ignore the tension in the air, the way everyone's eyes dart toward me whenever they think I'm not looking. It's like I'm the elephant in the room, and they can't pretend I'm not there anymore.

I know I'm not helping myself, but I can't seem to shake the feeling that eating is pointless. After the incident in the hospital, when I passed out from not eating, I thought I'd gotten the message. But it's not that simple. The food seems like a cruel joke, and every bite feels like a betrayal of everything I've been feeling.

I'm in the living room, trying to pretend like I'm not starving and tired, when Dean rolls in from his room. He's still using the wheelchair, and it's a constant reminder of how far he has to go to fully recover. His leg is still in bad shape, and every movement seems like it takes every ounce of his strength. Yet, despite all that, he's up and about, and now he's heading straight for us, determination etched on his face.

"Sam," he says, his voice unusually firm. "Come on. We need to talk."

I glance around at the others—Castiel, Bobby, Ruby, Ellen, Jody, Rufus, and Gabriel. They're all watching us closely, and I can feel the weight of their concern. Dean's eyes are locked on mine, and there's a fire in them that I haven't seen in a while. It's the kind of fire that says he's not going to let me get away with this any longer.

"What's going on?" I ask, trying to sound casual, but I know my voice betrays the tension I'm feeling.

Dean doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he rolls his wheelchair toward the kitchen, and the room falls silent. The others exchange glances, and I can sense their collective anxiety. I know this is important, but I don't know what to expect.

Dean's Point of View

I've had enough. The worry and the sleepless nights have finally taken their toll on me. Seeing Sam like this, refusing to eat, it's tearing me apart. I know I've been dealing with my own demons, but watching him suffer like this—it's unbearable.

"Sam, let's go," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. I'm pushing my wheelchair towards the kitchen, and I can feel everyone's eyes on us. I want to fix this. I need to fix this.

"What's this about?" Sam asks, his tone defensive. But I'm not in the mood for games. I'm done waiting for him to come around on his own.

"We're having a meal," I say, as firmly as I can manage. "And you're going to eat it."

Sam looks at me like I've just suggested something absurd. "I'm not hungry."

"Not an option," I say. "You're coming with me."

I can see the hesitation in Sam's eyes, and I know he's about to refuse. But I'm not letting him off the hook this time. I roll into the kitchen and gesture for Castiel and Gabriel to come over.

"Guys, I need your help," I say. "We need to get Sam to eat. He's refusing to take care of himself, and it's got to stop."

Castiel and Gabriel nod in agreement, their expressions serious. They've been just as worried as the rest of us, and I can tell they're ready to do whatever it takes. We set up at the table, and I can see the panic start to rise in Sam's eyes as he realizes what's about to happen.

"Come on, Sam," I say. "Sit down."

"No," Sam replies, shaking his head. "I don't want to."

I can't keep the frustration out of my voice. "Damn it, Sam! This isn't a negotiation. You're going to sit down, and you're going to eat. I'm tired of watching you throw yourself away."

He looks at me with a mix of anger and hurt, but he finally moves to sit at the table. I can see that he's struggling with every movement, but he's here. That's a start.

"Castiel, Gabriel, can you guys help keep him here until he eats?" I ask. "We're not leaving this table until he finishes a meal."

The two of them step forward, their presence a silent promise of enforcement. Sam looks between them and me, and I can see the battle raging inside him. He wants to fight, but he knows he's outnumbered.

"This is ridiculous," Sam says, but he picks up the fork. He pokes at the food on his plate, but it's clear he's not really into it. I can see the effort it takes him just to move the fork to his mouth.

Sam's Point of View

Dean's frustration is palpable, and I can see the toll it's taking on him. His leg is still healing, and he's using the wheelchair because it's too painful for him to walk. He's pushing through his own pain to force me to face mine, and I can't help but feel a mix of resentment and gratitude.

The food in front of me looks like a mountain, and every bite feels like a battle. I know I should be eating, but the act of doing so feels like a betrayal of everything I've been feeling. I take a few bites, more out of obligation than anything else, and I can see the relief in Dean's eyes.

When I finally push the plate away, Dean's expression softens just a little. "Thank you," he says quietly. "I know it's not easy, but we need to take care of ourselves."

I nod, feeling a lump in my throat. "I know," I say. "I'm trying."

Dean's hand reaches out, and he places it on my shoulder. It's a small gesture, but it's enough to remind me that we're in this together. We've been through so much, and despite everything, we're still fighting.

I look around at the faces of the people who care about us, and I realize that we're not alone in this. It's a small comfort, but it's enough to give me hope.

Dean's Point of View

As Sam finishes his meal and the tension in the room starts to ease, I feel a wave of relief wash over me. I've been worried about him, and seeing him finally take a step towards recovery is a small victory. But I know it's just the beginning. There's still a long way to go, and I'm not letting up.

We've been through hell and back, and there's no way I'm letting Sam slip through the cracks. Not now, not ever. We've got a fight ahead of us, and we need to be strong, for each other and for the battles to come.

As the group starts to relax, I know we're not out of the woods yet. There's still so much we need to do, and the road ahead is uncertain. But for now, I'm grateful for this moment, this small victory. We're still standing, and that's what matters.