Yep, another tag to ‘Jump the Shark’…couldn’t resist. Plus it would have been nice to see Sam in a hospital bed for a change. But alas if the Show writers won’t give me what I want and the CW won’t give Kripke an extra five…ten…thirty minutes, I’ll simply write it myself.

Thank You

The sound of Sam yelling his name didn’t stop Dean from continuing to bludgeon Adam’s…no, the ghoul who ate Adam and took his form…brains out. It was the barely above a whisper sound of his name being called again that stopped him. The bloody, brain splattered stone figure fell from his hand as he hurried to his brother’s side. His heart nearly stopped when he saw the amount of blood in the bowls below Sam’s outstretched arms and how close to unconsciousness he’d slipped. Dean pulled out his knife and cut through the ropes around Sam’s right wrist. A slight groan came from his brother when he gently touched him on the bicep. He breathed easier when Sam groaned louder, rolled his head and moved his arm down to his side.

Cutting the ropes wrapping his brother’s left wrist Dean saw him lift his head and grimace in pain. He moved further down the dining room table and sliced through the duct tape across Sam’s chest. Dean swore under his breath when he noticed a small puddle of blood above Sam’s waist. Checking the younger man’s side, he found a blood soaked slit in his t-shirt. Before he could check the wound, Sam was grunting in pain as he tried to sit up. “Here,” the older man quickly reached out and wrapped his arms around a trembling back. Muttering, “come on, come on, come on,” Dean pulled his brother up.

Sam felt even dizzier sitting up and his stomach rolled when he finally got a good look at the long, bleeding slashes on his forearms. “Hang on,” Dean said wrapping linen napkins around bleeding, trembling arms, “alright, here we go, here we go.” A pain-filled hiss left Sam’s lips, all the while his brother is murmuring reassurances, “hang on buddy. All right, all right.” Barely able to open his eyes he quietly thanked his big brother for saving his life. “That’s what family’s for right?” Sam’s arms were pressed together and he heard, “keep pressure on that,” before the calming presence of his brother disappeared.

Staring at the duct tape stretched across his knees, Sam cataloged the injuries inflicted by the Goa’uld…no wait not Goa’uld…something that sounds.…ghouls, that’s it ghouls. ‘Gotta stop hanging out on GateWorld.’ Blinking rapidly and shaking his head, he started over. ‘Okay, first up are my arms,’ briefly glances at his lap then back at the duct tape, ‘yep still attached…hands are numb though. Uh…next is my cheek,’ he scrunches his face up a little and wiggles his nose, ‘bruised not broken. Ankle’s turn and it feels…sore. Next is…uh,’ his thoughts grew fuzzier.

Slumping down he took a stuttering breath when the stab wound sent sharp spikes of pain shooting through his side. Fatigue relentlessly swept over him and he was unable to keep his eyes open any longer. The dizziness in his head and the ringing in his ears increased as the world spun around him. “De...” The table lurched and he fell backwards, cracking his head and right shoulder hard against the tabletop. Whimpering, he pulled his burning arms across his chest and didn’t fight the waves of pain and dizziness pulling him down into murky depths.

Rummaging through the kitchen drawers for more towels, Dean heard the unmistakable sound of bone hitting an immovable surface. “Sam? Sammy? crap,” he grabbed dishtowels out of the open drawer along with a ball of kitchen twine and rushed back into the dining room, “Sam,” Dean whispered. Dropping the towels and twine next to Sam’s body, he gently rolled his head towards him. Pressing two fingers to Sam’s neck he checked for a pulse, “damnit Sammy, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he said when he finally felt a slow throb. Tightly wrapping two towels around a blood soaked linen clad arm he then secured the towels with the twine and repeated the procedure on the other arm. When finished, he sliced through the duct tape across Sam’s knees and the ropes around his ankles.

Pushing Sam’s bangs off his damp forehead, Dean tapped a cool, pale cheek, “wake up Sam, it’s time to go.” He pulled him up into a seated position, sliding behind the kid to support his back he could feel tiny shivers running through Sam’s large frame. His head lolled and his arms flopped while a pained groan made its way out of his parted lips. “Sam I don’t want to drag you but I will if you don’t wake up.” Dean unbuckled his brother’s belt, yanked it out of the belt loops then cinched it tight around Sam’s waist; securing the last dishtowel against the knife wound.

Jerking his head up Sam whined, “D’n h’rts,” while ineffectively swatting at the leather belt and his brother’s hands.

“I know Sam but it has to be tight to stop the bleeding. Now up and at ‘em.” Sam whimpered while being pulled off the table to his feet. He swayed as one of his bandaged arms was draped around his brother’s shoulders then steadied when Dean wraped an arm around his waist. “One foot in front of the other, okay Sammy?” He tried to follow Dean’s orders, he really did, but it felt like he was walking through molasses. His legs and feet didn’t want to cooperate and he stumbled along as the older man propelled him through the kitchen.

Sam cracked his eyes open and the world spun while fading in and out of focus, “’m tired..sle’p.” His eyes slid shut again.

“Uh-uh no sleeping yet bro. You need a hospital.” Dean maneuvered his unwieldy, Sasquatch sized kid brother out the kitchen door onto the enclosed side porch.

“No hosp’al.”

“Yes hospital. Your arms are shredded, you’re leaking like a sieve and you’re going into shock. We’re letting the professionals handle this,” Dean replied. ‘No matter how much I want to drive in the opposite direction.’

“De’n”

“Sam.”

“Don’ let ‘em pu’ me ‘n psy…psyc…nut h’se. Sc’rd.”

Opening the passenger side door, he gently laid Sam down onto the backseat of the Impala. “I won’t let them put you in the psych ward Sammy,” Dean assured him pulling the younger man’s knees up and crossing injured arms over his chest, “put pressure on your arms dude,” hazel eyes barely opened when he tucked a jacket around a shivering body.

“C’ld…h’rts”

“Stay awake Sam. You hear me? You stay awake.”

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

“You’re not sticking my brother in the psych ward!”

“Your brother almost succeeded in killing himself! His blood pressure barely registered on our monitors when he first arrived.” Dr. Shen Quan tried to keep his voice down and not be argumentative but the tall man’s pigheadedness brought out his temper in the worst way. “Mister Campbell can’t you see? This is a serious call for help! Sam cut himself so badly he might have impaired the use of his hands.”

“And I told you he was tortured!” Dean retorted. “Are you blind as well as deaf? Didn’t you see the bloody ropes and burns around his wrists or the bruising around his ankles?” The younger man stepped right into the doctor’s personal space. “Or are you seriously saying Sam stabbed himself in the side, cut his arms open then tied himself down?”

“Mister Campbell, I know you don’t want to believe your brother is so desperate to die he would try…”

“You DON’T know me,” he said pointedly, “and you sure as hell DON’T know my kid brother. That god-damn half-brother of ours and his psychotic mother did this to him. All YOU need to do is get him patched up and topped off.” He poked a finger into the man’s chest, “if you come near him with restraints or I hear you say anything; anything at all about a psych consult to Sam….you will regret it.” Giving the doctor one last -try anything and I will end you messily- glare Dean turned around and stalked back to Sam’s room, ignoring the frightened glances of patients, their families and hospital staff.

Since he’d already reported Sam Campbell’s suspected suicide attempt to the Psychiatric Department, Quan knew the older brother was going to cause trouble. He shook his head as he walked towards the break room for a well-deserved cup of lethally strong coffee. Dean was so deep in denial, as evidenced by that whopper of a story; he couldn’t see the forest for the trees. As for Sam, he shook his head, it had been a long time since he’d seen anyone that young so intent on killing themselves. Hospital security was going to be in for an very interesting day.

Still fuming, Dean walked into his brother’s room. Sam was still pretty much out of it from the blood loss, anesthesia and pain meds. “Thirty-four percent,” he muttered, shaking his head; he still couldn’t get his brain wrapped around the volume of blood Sam had lost. Looking at the IVs of blood and clear fluids affixed to veins in Sam’s neck and thigh, reminded him of how much blood Sam had lost at the house and in the backseat of the car and how mad he was with himself for allowing the ghouls to get so close to the kid.

He sat down and rubbed his eyes, the anger he felt towards Sam ate at his stomach - the lying, the unexplained disappearances, the secrets and lastly going against Dad’s wishes by telling Adam about the family business. Okay, so Adam was actually a ghoul, but still. -What makes Adam so special?- Sam had asked. He was one of us Sammy, our lost baby brother.

A low groan pulled his attention back to the pale, dark haired man lying in the bed. “Sammy?”

“Dean?”

“Right here buddy. How you feelin’?”

Sam blinked and slowly looked around the room his eyes lingering on the IV bags before shifting over to Dean. “Tired…numb.” He face contorted slightly when he adjusted his sprained ankle. “What’s the word of the day?” he quietly inquired.

“Campbell.”

He nodded then lifted his head, staring at the bandages extending from the palm of his hands to his elbows. “They’re still here,” he sighed, head falling back against the pillow.

“What? Your arms or the cuts?”

“My arms in general. I was hoping this was all a freaky dream.”

“Been there, done that…”

“Got the t-shirt,” they said in unison, laughing. Suddenly Sam made a strange sound, grimaced and pressed an elbow against his bandaged side.

“Sam?” Dean jumped up and placed a hand on his brother’s trembling shoulder, “what’s wrong?”

Tears in his eyes Sam replied, “hurts to laugh,” before shifting and gingerly taking a deep breath.

“Do you need the nurse?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” He relaxed back against the mattress and yawned, “so when can I get out of here?”

Anger flooded through Dean again, “I don’t know but the sooner the better.”

Startled by Dean’s vehemence, Sam stared at him, “what’s wrong? Dean, what happened?”

“That damn doctor,” Dean turned and started to pace the room.

“Dean?”

He gestured towards the door, “Doctor Quan wants to lock you up in the psych ward and place you on a suicide watch! He said that,” he clenched and unclenched his hands, “he said your ‘suicide attempt’ was a cry for help. That you’re so desperate to die you’ll try again.”

Sam lifted a bandaged arm and moved his fingers slightly. Wondering how long it would be before he was tied down…scratch that, not PC enough…restrained for my own protection, he asked, “what did you tell him?”

“‘Tell him?’ I told him he was off his rocker if he thought you’d ever try to kill yourself.”

“No I mean, did you tell him what happened to me.”

“Oh. I told him a psychotic Kate and Adam tortured you.”

“The truth huh?”

“Up to a point.”

“Okay,” he glanced up at the ceiling before kicking off the bedclothes. “You’re going to have to pull the IVs Dean,” Sam pivoted, grunting as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and held out an arm, “help me up.”

Dean reached out, grabbing his brother’s upper arms, “what in the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

“I’m getting out of here.” Swallowing a groan of pain while being pulled upright, he closed his eyes when the room started to spin and black spots crossed his vision. Sam pressed his forehead against his brother’s shoulder, “don’ wan’…” his body went slack and he fell heavily against the older man. Staggering slightly, Dean gently laid Sam back down onto the bed.

“What are you doing?” a male voice yelled out.

Not even bothering to turn around Dean sarcastically answered, “what’s it look like? I’m trying to get a passed out Sasquatch back into bed.” A light haired man dressed in green scrubs and a white lab coat rushed over to the other side of Sam’s bed, helping Dean straighten out limbs, and tangled IV lines. “Thanks. Now who the hell are you?”

“Doctor Egon Thomassen, Psychiatric Resident,” he held his hand out to Dean.

“Get away from my brother!” growled Dean.

Dr. Thomassen put his hands up and tried to look harmless, “Mister Campbell I need to…”

“I said stay away from my kid brother.” Dean got into the doctor’s personal space and started walking forwards forcing the man to move back towards the doorway. “I told that other doctor my brother was to be left alone. He DID not try to kill himself and you people are NOT putting him in the psych ward!”

Dr. Thomassen stopped and stood his ground. “Mister Campbell…Dean, if you don’t calm down I will be forced to call Security and have you escorted from these premises. When, not if, but when you are caught sneaking back in, you will be handed over to the police and charged with trespassing. While you cool your heels in jail, your brother will be in the psych ward under a suicide watch. Sam’s obviously in a weakened condition, do you really want to put him through more stress?” Dr. Thomassen waited for his words to sink in before continuing, “it’s hospital policy to have all suspected suicides evaluated by the Psychiatric Department, your brother’s attending had no choice, he had to report it. Dean, my job is to evaluate Sam’s mental state, that’s all. We just want to make sure he’ll not harm himself further,” he held up his hand when Dean started to sputter, “if he did so in the first place. Alright?”

“Fine,” he spat, “but if Sammy doesn’t want to talk to you, that’s it…end of story. He gets topped off and we leave, no repercussions.”

“That’s all I ask. Now let’s get a nurse in here to check his IVs,” he pressed the nurse call button, “I’ll schedule Sam’s evaluation for two o’clock this afternoon. Here’s my card. Call me if you or Sam have any questions okay?” Getting an affirmative nod from Dean, he informed the arriving nurse what had transpired then left the room.

TBC

great story! please keep going, can't wait to know how the boy's are going to get out of this :o

Thanks Dianacp8 :)

Thank You - Chapter 2

-Restlessly Sam shifted, kicking off his sheet and blankets. Something touched his forehead and he jerked away then something gripped his shoulder, looking down he saw a grey, withered hand…a GHOUL! Yelling, he flung out his arms, ignoring the burning pain shooting from wrist to elbow. More grey hands grabbed his upper arms and held him down. Adam and Kate’s grey, emaciated faces loomed out of the darkness; dirty, lifeless hair hanging in clumps, smiling lips smeared with blood and the knives in their hands waiting to slice open flesh and muscle. He screamed and thrashed harder; lashing out with his fist, he struck Adam in the mouth, knocking him down. “You won’t get far Sam,” grinned Kate holding up a dripping, gore covered hacksaw and pointing at Sam’s legs. His gaze followed her finger and his mouth dropped open in horror, his legs were missing below the knee! Kate cackled with glee, soon she was joined by a joyful Adam holding Dean’s Glock in one hand and a blood-splattered leather cord with a dangling golden pendant in the other. “Dean isn’t going to save you this time Sam.”-

Courtesy of Sam’s wild right hook, blood dripped from Dean’s nose and mouth spotting the white sheets as he shook his brother’s shoulders, “SAMMY STOP! WAKE UP!” Sam had always been a restless sleeper so he hadn’t taken much notice when the bedclothes were kicked off, beyond placing a hand on Sam’s damp forehead to check for fever. Therefore, he’d practically levitated off the floor when Sam yelled and started to thrash around. Dean held the younger man’s shoulders down, concerned he might tear his stitches. When the high-pitched screaming started, Dean couldn’t hit the nurse call button fast enough. Which meant he wasn’t paying as close of attention as he should have and ended up knocked on his ass by an unconscious kid brother.

Dr. Quan, a nurse and a medical student ran into the room in time to hear Sam scream, “NO! DEAN NO! STOP!”

“Sam!” Dean ducked and caught a flailing arm.

The med student and nurse grabbed Sam’s legs while Dr. Quan ran to the far side of the bed and held down Sam’s other arm, “Lynae, one hundred milligrams of pentobarbital and grab the restraints,” he yelled at the nurse standing in the doorway. “What happened?” he demanded turning back to Dean, giving him a suspicious look.

“Nightmare,” Dean snapped, smearing the blood running from his nose with his hand. Sweat ran down Sam’s face as he gasped for air. “Damnit.” Dean grabbed his brother’s face, leaned forward and ordered in a deep growl reminiscent of their father, “Sam! Wake. Up. NOW!”

“Sam have many like this? Gemma!” he yelled and gestured as blood streamed out of the gash on the young man’s thigh created when the IV ripped out. She pressed her hand down on the wound, her whole body lying on Sam’s leg trying to keep it still.

As Lynae entered the room carrying a syringe and the restraints, Sam’s eyes flew open; he choked on a scream and started coughing. Tears welled up in his eyes as he continued to cough and gasp for breath. Pulled into a seated position, he felt a warm hand rub circles on his back. “It’s okay Sammy. Slow, deep breaths. You’re doing good. That’s it…slow and deep,” his brother’s voice was calm and soothing. “You’re not coming near him with those restraints doc,” he heard Dean say when he opened his eyes. Feeling the doctor’s eyes on him Dean looked over at the man, a questioning look on his face. “What?”

“Does he have many nightmares like this one?” Quan waved Lynae over to him, after a whispered conversation she left the room with the syringe and restraints but soon returned with triage and suture kits.

Sam felt Dean stiffen slightly, “it’s okay Dean,” his voice muffled by his brother’s shirt.

Sighing Dean answered, “it’s been a couple of years but they were never this bad.” When the coughing stopped he helped Sam lay back down on the bed then wiped the blood from under his nose.

“Sam are you alright?” Quan asked taking his penlight from his pocket, leaning over he flashed the light in his patient’s eyes.

“Y…yeah.” He flinched, the light spiking a headache. Getting his breathing under control, he rolled his eyes at his brother when the doctor took his pulse. Sam watched Gemma set up the suture kit and prepare a syringe while the med student, Josh, examined the IV port in his neck.

Quan gently examined the slowly bleeding gash on Sam’s thigh he said, “you’ll feel a burning sensation but that should go away in a few moments,” before Gemma injected the contents of the syringe into several spots around the torn flesh. Sam gasped, the liquid felt as if it was burning a new hole in his leg. Meanwhile, Josh having finished his examination of the IV moved down and started to prepare to suture the gash. “Sam, are you sure you’re alright?”

Sighing and closing his eyes he replied, “I’m fine Doc, it was just a nightmare.”

Acquiescing for the moment, Quan picked up Sam’s right hand and turned it palm side up, “move your fingers please.” Sam flinched as he wiggled his fingers. “Now your other hand.” Sam repeated the wiggling. “Good, good. Any numbness or tingling?”

“Some of both.”

“On a scale of one to ten, one being normal feeling and ten being entirely numb, how would you rate the numbness and tingling?”

“Uh…three.”

“Sammy.”

“Dean,” he turned and stared at his brother. Dean crossed his arms and stared back. Sam blinked first. “Fine…five.” Dean cleared his throat. “And a half.” His brother nodded and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Notating Sam’s answers in his file, Dr. Quan turned back and removed the bandages on the left arm, examining the condition of the stitches. Dean sneezed, causing his nose to start bleeding again, when Sam pointed this out Quan looked up at the taller man, “Lynae would you please take Mister Campbell next door and check his nose and mouth please. Looks like his brother clocked him a good one.”

“I’m not leavin’,” Dean replied, sniffling then running his fingers through the blood on his upper lip.

He reiterated, “Mister Campbell do you know how many communicable diseases are spread by human blood alone? Please, let Lynae clean you up then go get a cup of coffee. We’ll be done soon and if there are any complications, I promise to send someone to get you. Alright?”

“Go Dean, I’ll be fine.” The boys silently communicated before Dean nodded then left the room, Lynae trailing after him and closing the door.

Using sterile gauze, Quan wiped away the droplets of blood oozing here and there from between the stitches, and then inquired softly, “Sam, during your nightmare you screamed, ‘No. Dean no. Stop.’ Did Dean do this to you?” he gestured at the stitched vertical cuts on Sam’s left arm. Receiving no reply, he looked a shocked Sam in the eye, “we can help you Sam,” he continued while gently cleansing and examining the dark rows of stitching, “Dean won’t be able to hurt you anymore if you tell me the truth.”

Finding his voice, Sam responded in disbelief, “you think Dean did?…that he?…that I?…No,” he shook his head, wincing as the forgotten IV pulled. “Dean didn’t do this,” he glanced down at his arms, “he would never deliberately hurt me. Never.” Exasperated with Sam’s refusal to tell the truth Quan finished his examination and wrapped the arm in fresh surgical dressing, observed Josh’s suturing technique while offering a few pointers then moved around the bed and started to unwrap Sam’s right arm.

When he finished his examination and taped down the surgical dressing, he supplemented his previous file notations then said, “I’m ordering a painkiller, a heavy duty antibiotic and a sedative for you Sam.”

“No sedative.” He hated how out-of-control they made him feel.

“You need quiet and rest, otherwise you’re risking infection and the possible amputation of one or both of your forearms; maybe even death. And no matter what your brother says, I will have you restrained if you refuse to follow my orders.”

Clenching his jaw tight he repeated, “no sedative,” before staring at the ceiling and ignoring the medical staff’s ministrations as much as he could until they left the room. Quan tried once more to get him to admit Dean was behind his injuries before he too left for other duties. Sam blew out a large breath and tried to find a comfortable position. The IV in his thigh wasn’t replaced, thankfully, his arms and side throbbed and a headache pulsated behind his eyes with every beat of his heart. A nurse bustled in with his medications and a bag of saline, he reluctantly put up with her care and was relieved when she left without sedating him.

Exhausted, he fell into a light doze until the door to his room opened, startling him. “D’n?” he said sleepily, blinking his eyes slowly.

“Yeah kiddo it’s me.”

In a voice hoarse from screaming he asked, “you ‘kay?”

“I’m fine Sam,” Dean answered walking over to the bedside table. Pouring water into a cup he pushed the button to raise the head of the bed then steadied the cup in Sam’s shaking hand so he could drink. Coughing as the water tickled the parched tissues of his throat, he found himself bent forward against Dean’s arm while being patted on the back. “Ready to try this again? Preferably without the coughing and sputtering.” Sam nodded, leaned back against the pillows and swallowed the water without coughing…too much.

“Thanks,” he coughed once more, “I really need to get out of here dude.”

“Look how well that worked last time,” Dean countered. “Sammy,” he rubbed his hand over his face, “you lost thirty-four percent of your blood volume; it’s going to take awhile to get you topped off.” He pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. “I almost put my back out hauling your dead…” Dean blanched at the word, looked down, swallowed then looked back up, “out of it heavy ass to the hospital. I’m not planning to do that again for a very long time. So just lay back and suck up those fluids bro.”

“Dean it’s just…” Sam looked down at his bandaged arms, took a deep breath then let it out. “To these people,” he gestured with his head towards the partially open door, “I’m either a failed suicide who’s minutes away from trying to off myself again or I’m being abused by my older brother and I refuse to admit it - so either way I’m screwed. In fact, I’m probably this close,” he held his pointer finger and thumb an inch apart, “to being certified and doped ‘til my eyeballs float.”

“Sam they aren’t gonna dope you and.…wait a minute…abuse you? Who says I’m abusing you?”

“Guess.”

The chair fell over backwards hitting the floor with a loud bang when Dean abruptly stood up, “SON - OF - A - FREAKIN’ - BITCH!”

A man wearing a lab coat stood in the doorway and cleared his throat, “am I interrupting?”

The boys turned as one, staring at the newcomer. “Doc we’re not in the mood,” Dean growled as he glared at the man with an intensity that would initiate fear and panic in most people. Puzzled, Sam glanced back and forth between the two men.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you two…”

Interrupting, Dean said sarcastically, “yeah I’m sure you tried real hard not to listen, right Doc? Are you here because Quan ran to you with his latest pet theory?”

Walking further into the room he answered, “yes, Doctor Quan and I spoke about his opinion of your brother’s injuries.”

Sam frowned at the memory and stared at his brother’s back. “Well speaking for my brother and me, we are fed up to here,” Dean held his hand above his head, “with other people’s preconceived notions about us.”

“I always try to keep an open mind Dean,” Thomassen countered.

Dean snorted in disbelief as Sam asked warily, “who are you?” leaning to see around his brother.

“Your brother didn’t mention our appointment?” Sam shook his head. “Okay, I’ll start over,” he held his hand out to the younger man, “I’m Doctor…” he was blocked from coming any closer to his patient by a six foot - one inch, one hundred and seventy-five pound protector. Adding the over protectiveness of the older brother to the list of topics to discuss with Sam the doctor continued to introduce himself. “Doctor Egon Thomassen, the Psychiatric Resident assigned to your case.”

“No.”

Confused he replied, “sorry?”

Dean leaned back against the bed with a smile when Sam answered, “no, I’m not interested in talking to you.”

“Sam I understand this might be diffi…”

“He said no Doc…so see ya,” he waved the man away.

“Dean I know what I said earlier and I’m sorry but I’ve spoken with both my supervisor and the Director of Psychiatric Emergency Services about what you,” he nodded at Dean, “said and what Doctor Quan reported before and after Sam’s ‘nightmare’.” He looked Dean directly in the eye, “they’ve concluded that if Sam refuses a psychiatric evaluation then the attending doctor’s observations will be used to determine fitness.”

Uneasy green eyes turned to stare into worried hazel ones. “I don’t like where this is heading.”

Thomassen glanced back and forth between the brothers, watching but not understanding their silent communication. “The Director has determined Sam Campbell’s life is in immediate danger and he will be involuntarily admitted for a seventy-two hour psychiatric evaluation.”

“Son-of-a-bitch.”

“Crap.” Sam closed his eyes, let his head fall back onto the pillow, sighed then opened his eyes. “Fine. I’ll talk to you.”

“Sammy?”

“Dean, it’s better than being doped and strapped down in the psych ward for three days.” He looked down at his hands and winced as he moved his fingers, “hopefully,” he added quietly. After Dean had reluctantly left the room, a decidedly uncomfortable Sam waited for Thomassen to ask his questions.

TBC

oh no! :o they're gonna put Sam into the psych ward, or they're gonna separate him from Dean because they think he's abusing him; :bang now, how could they think such thing when he cares so much about his brother.
I'm loving this story, and how protective is Dean with Sam :wub:
please write asap :cheer

Okey-dokey

I know nothing about either psychiatry or psychiatrists but I play one on TV. ;-) No, I’m not going crazy during the hiatus….I’m perfectly sane. Bwahahahaha!!

Thank You - Chapter 3

Thomassen righted the chair Dean had knocked over, sat down and crossed his legs. With his pen poised over a blank notepad, he referenced the notes he’d prepared earlier, “Sam relax, I’m just an unbiased observer; it isn’t my job to judge you.” His patient didn’t visibly relax at all. “I’ve read the reports from your admission to the ER; I also have copies of the report your brother gave the police, the surgeon’s findings and Doctor Quan’s assessments,” he watched Sam’s face closely, trying to decipher his emotional responses. “I would like to hear your side of the story. How did you become injured Sam?”

“I got sliced up by my newly discovered kid brother and his psychotic mother.”

Thomassen gave Sam a firm look, “for this to be considered a proper evaluation I’m going to need more than that Sam. So why don’t you start at the beginning? How did you meet your brother…” he ran his finger down the police report, “Adam?”

He stared up at the ceiling for a minute, ‘actually it was a ghoul who’d taken his form after eating him - alive’, he thought before taking a deep breath and letting it out. “It started with a call from this kid, Adam Milligan, looking for John…our dad,” he added when Thomassen raised his eyebrows. “Dean told him John died two years ago and that’s when he stated he was John’s son.”

“What did your father die from Sam?”

“A massive heart attack.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Sam nodded, his bangs falling in front of his eyes, hiding them, “anyways, we were a bit stunned so we agreed to meet. Adam told us how his mom, Kate, and our dad met, showed us pictures of dad and them on his fourteenth birthday and told us what they would do when dad swung through town,” he said with a pained look on his face.

“Sam, how old is Adam?”

He thought for a moment, “uh…eighteen.”

“And Dean?”

“Thirty. Why?”

“Just wondering about the age range, that’s all,” he answered writing on the paper, “please continue.”

Sam looked at him skeptically before continuing, “so I asked why he’d called and he said his mom had disappeared and he needed dad.”

“For support?”

“I guess,” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Naturally we asked what happened and what the cops had said.” Thomassen nodded. “He asked if we’d help him search the house for clues.”

“Didn’t the police already do that?” Thomassen asked.

“Adam said the cops didn’t find anything so they thought she’d just left on her own accord - maybe taking a vacation. He thought some fresh eyes might help because as he put it ‘the cops are full of crap’, his mom wouldn’t have just up and left without letting him know first. So we looked around and Dean spotted some deep scratches in the floor under the bed in Kate’s room that led to a grate covering a floor register. Dean made a crack about mutant dust bunnies…”

Thomassen interrupted, “not the most appropriate thing to say to a kid whose mother is missing.”

“Dean was being Dean,” Sam shrugged, “he cracks jokes when situations get too tense. Although this time it backfired on him because it ticked Adam off and he told Dean to stick his head into the duct and take a look around.”

“Did Dean stick his head into the duct?”

Sam laughed, “yeah he did…after loosing three rounds of rock, paper, scissors, Spock, lizard.”

“Did he see anything?”

“Nothing, the duct work was mutant dust bunny free.”

Not even cracking a smile, Thomassen cocked his head slightly, “what happened next Sam?”

“Adam called the detective in charge and they came out to take a look. After they showed up we felt like we were in the way so we left,” he caught the look in the doctor’s eyes and the feeling of being a specimen under a microscope grew, “the neighbors came over when they saw the cops and with everyone milling around, staring at us and whispering…Adam agreed it would be for the best so Dean and I left.”

“What did you two do then?”

“Uh,” swallowing dryly he looked at the pitcher of water next to his bed, “could you help me with…” he tilted his head at the pitcher and cup.

“Oh, sure,” Thomassen said rising to his feet. He was even able to locate a plastic wrapped straw laying forgotten in the drawer of the bedside table so Sam could drink without further assistance.

“Thanks,” Sam said trying to relax his sore back muscles.

Sitting back down Thomassen prompted, “did you two talk about Adam?”

“Yeah, we did…eventually. We went back to our motel room and relaxed a bit…talked about why dad never mentioned Adam…what made the scratches on the floor. I fell asleep while Dean was debating between man-eating rats and mutant arachnids.”

“Sounds like Dean doesn’t taking things very seriously,” he said sitting back and crossing his legs.

Thomassen’s clinical attitude was beginning to tick Sam off. “He does when it’s necessary,” he replied firmly, defending his brother. “Adam called the next day asking us to come over. He showed us the cop’s report; Dean wasn’t impressed and while he wandered around the house, Adam talked about dad and his mom. I told him about life with dad. Then he asked about our mom, I couldn’t answer many of his questions so he asked Dean, which didn’t go over well. Dean answered Adam brusquely then snapped at me before abruptly stating he needed a drink and left.”

“How did his desertion make you feel Sam?”

“He didn’t desert…” he started to retort before catching the swiftly hidden calculating look on the doctor’s face. Sam worried his bottom lip with his teeth before beginning again, “Dean doesn’t talk about…it’s hard for him…dad being with another woman, having a child with her and not telling us about it; then you add in mom…” he tilted his head and shrugged, “Dean can remember her, and also what dad was like back then, I can’t.”

“Why can’t you remember your mother, Sam?”

“She died when I was a baby. Anyway,” he looked down at the water cup and smiled, “Adam and I talked about this sudden brother thing. He was glimpsing what it’s like to be the youngest and I was having fun being an older brother for a change,” the smile on his face disappeared as he continued. “We heard a door open and a woman’s voice calling Adam’s name. He yelled ‘Mom’ as we ran down the stairs,” Sam paused and cleared his throat, “I remember seeing a short blonde woman wearing scrubs standing near the kitchen table,” he hissed slightly when the stitches in his side and thigh pulled as he adjusted his position. Glancing at Thomassen, he cleared his throat again. “Then I woke up tied spread eagle to the dining room table with the side of my face hurting like a son-of-a-bitch. While I’m yanking on the ropes the blonde woman walks over and stands over me holding a knife.”

The doctor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Adam’s missing mother I presume?”

“Turns out yeah, but at the time I wasn’t sure. So I yell for Adam to run, instead, he comes walking over to me and,” Sam takes a deep breath, “he’s holding a knife too.”

-----~~-----~~-----~~-----~~-----~~-----

“Adam what’s going on?” Sam asks, twisting and pulling at the ropes binding his wrists and ankles to the table. “Why am I tied up?”

“Mom wanted to meet you.”

Sam’s eyes shift back and forth between the two people looming over him. “You’re Adam’s mom?”

Smiling, she replies, “yes sweetie, I am,” while running the point of her knife along Sam’s jaw.

“Then what…this is a set up?” The blonde woman nods. “Why? To trap dad? AAAH!” Kate suddenly cut horizontally across Sam’s right arm, grinning when he cries out from the sudden pain.

“Looks like we’ve got a screamer honey,” she laughs pushing the point of her knife into the open wound, watching Sam grimace in pain while he tries, unsuccessfully, to pull his arm away. Sam opens his eyes when the knife is removed and tries to calm his breathing as Kate and Adam circle his prone body like sharks circling an injured diver.

Pulling at the ropes again he asks, “what did my dad ever do to you?”

“This isn’t about him, Sam, it’s about you,” Adam replies before shoving his knife into Sam’s left side. The bound man screams and tries to roll away from the hot pain radiating from his side. The knife twists, his back arches against the duct tape holding him to the table while his hands clench spasmodically.

“DEAN!”

“Don’t worry sweetie, he’s next,” Kate whispers in his ear. Her hair tickles his face as he gasps for breath when the knife is removed from his side and he looks blearily up at her. “John promised to love and protect me, Sam,” she gently strokes his bruised cheek, “his work took him all over the world so he’d be gone for weeks at a time but he would always call or come see me every chance he got. When I told him I was pregnant he was so thrilled, he showed up on my doorstep four days later with a dozen red roses and we didn’t leave the house for two days,” Kate smiles at the memory. “After Adam was born I asked John to marry me. Do you know what he said Sammy?” He shakes his head. “He broke down and cried, saying he couldn’t marry me. At first he said he couldn’t risk the wrong people finding out about us then he told me the truth…his sons would never accept me as their new mother,” she spat, “he wanted us in his life but he couldn’t go against his children’s wishes. Because of you and your brother we weren’t his real family.” She grabs Sam’s hair, yanks his head up then smashes it back down against the table. Pain explodes in the back of Sam’s head and he sees stars. He could barely hear Kate through the roaring in his ears. “I pleaded with him to acknowledge Adam…to give him his name. I said his older sons would come to accept it once they understood it was fait accompli. But he said no, he couldn’t; only Mary’s boys would carry the Campbell name.”

Sam swallows back the nausea that threatens to make an appearance. “But we…dad didn’t…”

Kate cups Adam’s cheek lovingly and kisses his forehead. “Adam loved spending time with his daddy.” The teenager smiles slyly, running his thumb slowly along the sharp edge of his knife. “Adam and I put up with a lot - the missed birthdays, anniversaries, special family moments - to keep the peace between John and his two spoiled brats.” The Milligans stand on either side of the table looking down at Sam with hate in their eyes; Kate bends down and runs her knife blade along the collar of Sam’s t-shirt. “When John didn’t come to Adam’s high school graduation, after promising he wouldn’t miss it, I knew you two selfish sons-of-bitches had a hand in it. When John called me later and said he wouldn’t be able to see us ever again,” Kate’s voice hitches then steadies and deepens into a growl, “that was the last straw. I knew then the only way for John, Adam and I to be together forever was for Dean and Sam Campbell to go away…permanently.”

Using just enough pressure to break the skin, she pulls the knife vertically along Sam’s forearm, “we researched and planned every step. When it was time to put our plan into action we couldn’t find either of you, it was like you both fell off the face of the planet.” Sam’s breath quickens and his fear continues to rise as Kate rambles insanely on. “We had to put our plans on hold and try to go on with our lives without John’s presence. Needing to hear John’s voice, Adam dialed one of John’s old numbers and lo and behold, who answers? One of the Campbell brats. Who then proceeds to tell my son his father…his father is dead. When he broke the news to me,” tears filled her eyes, “you and your brother took John away from me - from us, Sam. You stole our hopes and dreams.” She nods to Adam. “You stole our lives!” Kate brutally slashes Sam’s left forearm from elbow to wrist, followed by Adam slashing the right. Screaming, Sam rolls his head and screams louder when they slash his arms again. He uncontrollably twists and pulls his arms, trying to escape the fiery pain. Whimpers emanate from his lips as the pain and terror shift his brain into overdrive.

Sam watches his blood flow down his arms and over his wrists. Blood pools in his palms, warming them, before dripping out between his fingers and falling to the floor below. He can hear angry voices behind him, he knows he should be worried but he just can’t seem to bring himself to care. His hands slowly go numb, the world goes out of focus and black creeps along the edges of his vision. Panting, Sam thinks he hears a familiar voice shouting his name at the same time a loud blast of sound startles him. Crying out as a fresh waves of agony crawl up his arms, gentle hands cup his face and when he opens his eyes he swears he sees worried green eyes staring back at him. But before he can force his cottony brain to concentrate on what he’s seeing, the darkness roars back in with a vengeance and everything fades away.

TBC

great chapter, please keep going. I wanna know what's the doc gonna write about Sam's sotry and if he's going to belive him or lock him down :unsure:
It's really good that you post dayly ;)

I don't post until I have the story completed, which is why I haven't posted anything in a long time. I'm up to chapter 5 on another story I started back in 2008 and I'm not even close to being done.

Don’t know about anyone else but if corpse-eating ghouls tried to kill me, I would lie to the psychiatrist too. Although knowing me, I’d still end up in West Unit Behavioral Sciences Unit (rampaging PCness) with an IV full of fun psychotropic drugs stuck in my hand.

Thank You - Chapter 4

“You’re lucky Dean returned in time to rescue you,” Thomassen’s pen moved swiftly over the notepad.

“I guess. I really don’t remember much about it,” Sam admits, exhausted from reliving the events and altering them into something suitable for the doctor to hear. Remembering how his blood flowed unimpeded from his arms had started his stomach churning again. Sam closed his eyes and concentrated on not hurling on the floor…or on the doctor, even though there was a tiny voice in the back of his head, which sounded suspiciously like Dean, urging him to do just that.

Thomassen nodded as he flipped through his notes. “Has anyone told you the condition you were in when you arrived at the hospital?”

Sam tapped his fingers against his leg, “Dean said I’d lost thirty-four percent of my blood volume.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the medical term is a class three hemorrhage. When you were admitted you were in hypovolemic shock and your systolic blood pressure was under a hundred. You were losing blood as fast as it was being pumped into you.”

“He didn’t mention that part.”

Glancing up Thomassen continued, “if Dean hadn’t found you when he did, if he’d delayed getting you treatment, it’s more than likely you would have never recovered from or possibly have died from your injuries.” The young man snorted and mumbled something without opening his eyes. “Sam?”

“Nothin’.”

The doctor shuffled through his prepared notes until he found the page he wanted, quickly read it then flipped to a fresh page. “Sam, I’ve noticed how…over protective Dean is of you and considering your ages, it’s unusual and unsettling. So I’d like to propose a few hypothetical alternatives to the events in your story.”

Sam looked sideways at the man then stared at the far wall, “unbiased my ass,” he said under his breath.

The doctor clicked his pen a few times then wrote a few words on his notepad. “I’ll grant you Adam called looking for his father. Discovering you two instead, he invited his newfound brothers up to meet him and his mother. Used to having you all to himself and unable to dominate Adam, probably because of his mother, Dean soon became jealous of your interaction with your new kid brother.”

The dark haired man grumbled, “time to blame the older brother.”

“To get you back under his control he had to get rid of his competition. He tied the Milligans up then lured you to their house. Dean forcibly tied you to the table and made you watch as he killed Kate and Adam; while repeatedly saying it was your fault he had to do this. After removing Adam’s body he punished you further by slicing your arms open. Dean made you beg for your life, didn’t he Sam and he waited almost too long to get you medical attention, a few more minutes and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Leaning forward Thomassen asked in concerned tone, “why are you protecting a man who tortured you Sam? Does Dean tell you that you are worthless and weak without him? Does he hit you when you don’t do what he wants you to do? That’s psychological and physical abuse Sam.” His voice turned gentle and pleading, “I can help you get away from him. The police can put Dean where he can’t hurt you anymore. Sam, please, let me help you.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open in shock as he listened to the doctor’s theory then he barked out a strangled laugh, “my god man, lay off the Hallmark Channel movies would ya. You’re starting to sound like that crazy psych prof I had in college. He wrote letters to the University paper declaring that all the evils in this world are caused by rock ‘n roll music, the bikini and HBO.”

Not appreciating the analogy Thomassen wrote down a few more lines of observation before continuing with his psychoanalysis. “It isn’t unusual for an abused person to deny any abuse has occurred, even protecting their abuser, while they’re lying in the hospital with broken bones, cuts and bruises.” Thomassen hesitated, moving his hand towards the bed as if he was going to lay it on Sam’s arm. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of Sam; men are abused by spouses and family members too.”

He growled low in his throat before retorting, “I’m only gonna say this one more time doc so listen carefully, Dean is not abusing me - he did not cause my injuries. I don’t give a flying rat’s ass if you don’t believe me.”

“I’m sorry if I upset you Sam, but as I outlined before, you were in bad shape and I need to know who caused your injuries two nights ago. Now, I’ve seen family members try to cover up a relative’s suicide attempt…”

“DAMNIT! I DIDN’T TRY TO KILL MYSELF!!”

“Please calm down; let me explain.”

Sam glowered at his blanket covered feet, his arms loosely crossed over his stomach.

“As I was saying, family members have been known to cover up an attempted suicide because they see it as a personal insult. Dean found you with your arms cut open and not being able to blame you, he latched onto the only other targets he had, the Milligans. He killed them, removed Adam’s body then set about framing them by staging the house so it would look like they tortured you. Unconsciously he was punishing you by delaying medical treatment until it was almost too late.” He sat back and waited for the young man’s answer, knowing there was a possibility, however slight; he was telling the truth about the Milligans setting them up. His professors had emphasized that the first story told usually held a great number of truths, warped though they may be, and it was his job to ferret out those kernels of truth. The hardest part was placing the truths in the correct order and filling in the blanks, creating a complete and rational story.

Dog-tired, Sam closed his eyes; the painkiller he’d received earlier was wearing off and his muscles started to cramp from the pain spreading from his forearms up to his shoulders. He thought he could pull off the ‘crazy relatives tried to kill me’ routine. But it looked like he’d drawn a fresh faced doctor eager to save the world from itself and nothing was going to stand in his way until he’d wrung the last bit of hopelessness out of everyone he came across. Sam thoughts jumped from one subject to another - the demon blood snaking itself around inside him, the Apocalypse, Lillith, the Seals breaking left and right, coming clean with Dean about Ruby and his fear that if he didn’t learn to control his powers they would control him. He finally fell into a fitful doze thinking about what Dean would do to him if he found out what really happened to his favorite Metallica tape.

TBC

Last chapter.

Thank You - Chapter 5

“Sam…..Sammy.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Sam quietly whimpered while trying to roll over onto his side.

“Sam wake up, we need to get out of here.” Dean shook his sibling’s shoulder again, being careful not to jostle his bandaged forearms. He’d returned to Sam’s room a few hours earlier to find his kid brother in a fretful doze, pain evident on his face and Dr. Thomassen writing in his notebook. Sending the doctor a deadly glare he hurried to Sam’s bedside and placed his hand on the younger man’s head while whispering words of comfort and pressing the nurse call button with his other hand.

The on-call nurse administered a painkiller, sending Sam into a drugged doze then removed the IV from his neck. After he’d left the room, Dean turned to the psychiatrist and growled, “didn’t you notice Sam was in pain Doc or were you just ignoring him?”

“I was observing him Dean.”

“Observing…ignoring - whatever. Sam was in pain and you did nothing to help him,” Dean reiterated as he pointed a finger in Thomassen’s face.

Thomassen cocked his head to the side, “has he been acting moody or depressed lately?”

“He was born moody,” Dean answered in an irritated tone, “haven’t you asked enough questions?”

“I just have a few more. You’re close to Sam, I might even say, a bit too close to him. Why is that?” Doctor Thomassen watched Dean expectantly, “did Sam tell you he didn’t want to continue your special relationship anymore? Did he hurt himself to get away from you? Or did you carve your brother up so he couldn’t leave you?”

Dean’s mouth gaped open in shock for a moment before snapping shut. His face became devoid of emotion and his eyes grew hard as he pointed at the door and demanded in a low, deep voice for Thomassen to leave. When the doctor didn’t move, he found himself unceremoniously shoved out the door and before he could turn around to argue the door slammed shut and the lock clicked into place.

Thomassen found Dean’s reaction interesting yet considering Sam’s complete lack of fear when in his presence, he’d come to the opinion that the older brother hadn’t been responsible for his patient’s injuries. He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of Sam’s explanation, the murderous half-brother story not with standing, an additional session or two discussing his personal and work relationships would help further his decision. Nonetheless, with the Terrance Fuentes abuse and murder case still in the forefront of the media and the lawsuits filed against the hospital and law enforcement, he had to err on the side of caution. Hospital security would have to be alerted and arrangements made to move Sam to a secure ward, then it would be time to call the police and have Dean Campbell escorted out of the hospital, against his will if necessary.

“Sam wake up,” Dean said in a tense voice, placing his hand on Sam’s chest and shaking him vigorously while glancing out of a window in his brother’s room at the lovely view of a dimly lit parking lot. With a grumpy groan, Sam shifted away from his tormentor. “Damnit.” He stalked over to the door and unlocked it, opening the door a crack, Dean watched a few hospital personnel walk down the corridor, none of them paying any attention to him. Opening the door wider, he glanced up and down the corridor then checked out the nurses’ station at the end of the corridor. A lone security guard leaned casually against the station counter talking to the nurses on duty. Only someone well versed in body language would’ve noticed the surreptitious tightening of the man’s shoulders and the straightening of his back when he caught sight of the elder Campbell brother.

A tired voice called out behind him, “D’n?”

“Sam.” ‘How can a twenty-five year old sound so much like a lost six year old?’ the older man thought hurrying over to the bed, ‘and look like one too,’ he added, his kid brother blinking slowly up at him. Sliding an arm behind Sam’s back he pulled him up into a sitting position, “come on dude, we gotta get out of here. Your shirts are gone, the doctors had to cut them off,” he said taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his long sleeved flannel shirt, “this is yours.”

“Dean,” he said quietly, shutting his eyes when the room started to whirl.

“Your jeans are toast too.” He reached down and pulled out a plastic bag stuffed between the bed and side table. “I snagged a pair of your sweatpants.” Dean glanced around the room, “where are you socks and…there they are. Come on, you need to get ready Sam - Todd and Josh have a divers…”

“Dean!” Sam winced, pulling back from his brother’s ministrations.

He stopped trying to gently push a bandaged arm into a sleeve. “What?”

“I gotta go.”

“That’s what I’m trying to help you do if you’d stop pulling away. We have to be…”

“No!” Sam answered in frustration, “I gotta go to the head. I’m about to explode here.”

“Oh…oh! Okay, let’s get your other arm into the shirt first.” He helped Sam slide off the bed and stand up then quickly caught him when his knees buckled. “Whoa! Forgot how to stand there Sammy?”

“Just a little light headed,” he replied, feeling self-conscious with his inability to stand and walk unaided, as Dean helped him the few feet to the bathroom door.

“Need help in there?” Looking at his brother’s face Sam saw only the honest need to help reflected in Dean’s green eyes. Sam nodded, embarrassment coloring his pale cheeks.

By the time Sam was fully dressed he was hot, sweaty and ready to pass out. He felt as if he’d just ran fifteen miles with a full pack…in Louisiana…in the middle of summer…at high noon…while being chased by a herd of rabid Aussicus Crocodillio Huntii. “Man they gave me some weird crap,” he mumbled, hanging his head down and wiping the sweat off his forehead with his shoulder.

“What are you being chased by this time Sammy,” Dean asked, laughing while opening the door a crack and waiting for Josh to answer the phone. “Wendigas Cavernus Hanguptus, Blincus Bearicii or Weevillus Foresticus Eatuuptus?”

Sam took a deep breath then let it out in a long put upon sigh, “I should never have told you.”

“Who else but the resident geek boy would make up Latin terms for the supernatural critters we…” -Hey Josh we’re ready.- Dean quickly glanced over his shoulder at Sam before looking back out into the corridor. -Sam’ll be fine once we get away from this damn hospital. Just one guard at the nurse’s station…he keeps tensing when he…no, I can take care of him. Alright, five minutes and we’ll meet you guys at the northwest entrance. Don’t get caught. Yeah, yeah I know who I’m talking too.- He snapped his cell shut. “Okay…show time in five minutes Sam.”

The younger man looked up, shaking his overlong bangs out of his eyes. “Smoke grenades?”

Grinning, Dean replied, “something better.”

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

“The clean-up continues at Mount Davis General Hospital. It’s still unclear exactly how the fire suppressing foam was released…”

Dean turned the television off when Sam restlessly groaned in his sleep again. He double-checked the salt lines at the motel room windows and door before sitting back down at the table. Picking up his steaming cup of coffee he stared unseeing at the open laptop, he knew he was supposed to be researching rehab techniques for Sam to utilize in the upcoming weeks to rebuild the strength and stamina in his forearms but his mind kept wandering to back to Adam - a kid brother and a baby brother. A toddler with unruly chestnut hair and slanted hazel eyes stared back at him when he closed his eyes. He tried to imagine Adam at the same age but the only thing he could see was dead eyes staring out of a bloodless face, a body torn apart…consumed and the leftovers discarded like garbage in an abandoned crypt. The older man walked over and placed his hand on Sam’s sweaty forehead, he was warm - not feverish, thankfully. He pulled back the comforter and his brother quieted down almost immediately. ‘Wish everything could be just as simple again.’

Josh and Todd helped him salt and burn Kate’s body. The elder hunters looked at him strangely but asked no questions when Dean requested them to leave Adam’s body alone. He thanked them for cleaning and staging the Milligan’s house and for burning the male ghoul’s body, so it looked like Adam had been responsible for the carnage before taking off.

“How’s Sam doin’ Dean?” Josh coughed and moved up wind from the nasty, eye-stinging smoke, leaning slightly on his shovel.

“He’s doing as well as can be expected.”

“Do y’all need any of the harder to get a hold of antibiotics or painkillers? I have a friend…”

Laughing, Josh asked, “imaginary or invisible?”

“She’s a veterinarian,” the bulky hunter shoved his friend off balance, “she has this sweet set-up in the backroom for injured hunters,” Todd handed Dean a business card, “she’s good Deano and discreet, so if Sam has any problems go see her.”

Taking the proffered card, he glanced at it then shoved it in his jacket pocket. “Thanks man.”

“Why don’t ya go check on your brother Dean,” Josh laid a hand on the younger hunter’s shoulder, “we can handle the mop up.” Dean nodded, thanked the older hunters for their help again and walked back to the Impala. Driving back to the motel he considered taking Sam to Bobby’s place then driving back to take care of Adam’s body; he knew Sam would fight it, immediately thinking Dean didn’t trust him. In the end they both stayed.

Several days later, after Sam was able to stand and walk without keeling over from lightheadedness, they stood near the shrouded body of their younger brother, both caught up in private thoughts. “Ya know, I finally get why you and dad butted heads so much,” Dean said grabbing the container of butane from Sam’s hand and spraying it over the already salted body. He threw a lit match on Adam’s body then stepped back from the flames to stand next to his brother. “You two are practically the same person. I mean, I worshipped the guy…I dressed like him…I acted like him…I even listened to the same music.” His anger kept him from looking at Sam to see how he was taking his words. “But you are more like him than I’ll ever be and I see that now.”

Sam shifted, feeling slightly dizzy from the heat put off by the flaming pyre. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” A year ago he would have protested the comparison but now, he embraced their similarities.

“You can take it any way you want.”

FIN

Thanks to Supernaturalwiki.com for the transcription of the boys’ ending conversation.

Can’t believe how long it took me to write this tag. I got the giggles when Dean said he had to go to the ‘head’ in Swap Meat since I’d written Sam saying the same thing a couple of days before the episode aired.

PS: Kid here, Mom you need to take some anti-crazy meds. :wizard

Loved this story! hope you post some other one soon ;)

Great Job! :hi5