Please review, and let me know if I should keep going with it and make it more than just a ficlet. All reviews are welcome!
I do not own Supernatural or the characters in any way, shape, or form. All rights to respective owners.
Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably in a stiff fold-out chair. He glanced around the room. He didn't belong here. These people had real mental issues, they needed real help, they didn't have a job to do, a planet to save, an apocalypse to keep in check, a brother whom he hadn't heard from since he was admitted, and certainly none of them had Lucifer screaming at them 24/7.
Out the window glittering snow fell thick on the ground. It was overcast and windy, the coldest day of the year so far. The freezing temperatures took their toll indoors, too. Despite countless radiators the bitterness was always there, easily cutting through his thin hospital clothing.
Sam Winchester sat silent, not even pretending to listen anymore. Right now, Lucifer was reciting his thirteen times tables up to, and including, one hundred. It had taken twenty minutes for him to get this far and Sam's vision was blurred because all he could think about was repeated number patterns. Once in a while he would shut up for a few seconds, making Sam believe he was finished, but he never was.
"Sam, would you like to tell about your weekend?" one of the more involved doctors asked. Sam didn't move, didn't react. He continued staring straight ahead because all Sam could hear was twenty six, thirty nine, fifty two…
"Uh, Sam?" The doctor repeated.
Sam snapped back to reality after faintly hearing his name. "Huh? Yeah?"
"Would you like to tell about your weekend?" The doctor asked once again. Sam sat poker straight and intensely stared at the doctor to try and keep his focus on him.
Slouching down a bit now and refolding his arms over his stained shirt, he answered.
Swallowing and clearing his throat, Sam said monotoned, "Uh, no. Thanks." He settled back and didn't even attempt to block out Lucifer anymore.
"Sam, you haven't spoken to the group at all since our first meeting. Please tell us a little bit about yourself." The doctor said, refusing to cut him a bit of slack.
Sam breathed an exasperated sigh, annoyed that the doctor wouldn't give up his case. He didn't even want to be here. Glancing around the room he noticed the other patients, all older, stared at him intently.
"I-I'm Sam Winchester." he mumbled.
After a moment had passed of silence, the doctor continued prompting him. "Good, good. What else?" The doctor asked.
Sam heard him this time, and pretended he didn't. It was easier listening to math equations than spilling your life story to a bunch of nut jobs.
Later that day, Dean came in for a visit. He looked nervous. Dean didn't sit down upon entering Sam's hospital room and stood there awkwardly, eyeing his little brother. Sam understood that his brother had been busy. Just like Bobby was. Castiel was apparently busy too. Despite their apologies and endless excuses, Sam couldn't help but feel like they didn't visit because they honestly did not want to. Truth was, it was too hard. Too hard for his family to see him this way.
It was especially hard for Dean, and despite trying to hide his protective instincts, Sam could tell he was uncomfortable here. Didn't blame him. If Dean and Sam switched places, Sam wouldn't show up. His face would bring back too many memories of the wrenching pain soullessness caused the brothers.
Sam knew all the shit he put his loved ones through. He hated himself for it. He wanted to kill himself, bleed out bright crimson thick across the damned hospital tiles. When they found his cold, stiff body, the nurses wouldn't shed a tear and immediately call his closest family. Sam pictured Dean getting the call and barely flinching. In Sam's mind, Dean would calmly let Bobby know and Cas would just, well, know. They would go about their lives without him as if he wasn't a part of them in the first place.
Sam could no longer feel happiness. The guilt was too strong.
After a minute that felt like an eternity, "How ya feeling?" Dean asked, obviously uncomfortable.
"Ok, I guess.." Sam replied, sitting on his old mattress. He wasn't ok, he knew that, but he didn't want to worry Dean. Too late anyways, Dean was pacing the room biting his lip.
"Sam, what's happening in here? You're not like yourself, has Lucifer dug that far into your head?" Dean said stepping closer to Sam.
Sam swallowed. "Dean, they-they say I'm sick. That I see things that aren't there, hear things that aren't there," Sam explained, tears glistening in his eyes. "but Dean, they are so real for me."
He stopped. "Can you hear-him-right now?" Dean asked.
"He's right over there." Sam pointed to the left of him.
"Sammy? What's he doing?" Dean pushed further, desperately seeking any answers from Sam. He tried to understand just how much of a mess his brain was.
Dean sat on the farthest edge of the bed and stared at him intently with forest green eyes, looking straight through Sam and into his soul.
"He's- He's…." Sam choked. Couldn't get the words out. He stared wide eyed where he had pointed. Sam's breaths were rapid, his heart raced.
Sam was in a different place now. Dean realized this immediately. Sammy never choked or swallowed so much, he never stared at a wall, unblinking. Dean searched frantically in his eyes directly in front of him but Sam stared straight through him as if he wasn't even there. This killed Dean on the inside.
"What's he doing, Sammy?!" Dean demanded inching closer, fearing for his brother's life.
Sam stopped. Unblinking, he calmly turned to his big brother, tears glistening in his eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.
Staring at his brother, he told the truth.
"He cut himself," Sam said monotoned, looking intently at his brother. "and he's drinking the blood."
As horrifying memories flooded over Dean he stared disbelieving at his baby brother, shaking his head. Thoughts of demons, angels, Azazel, and his mother washed over him as a single tear fell down his cheek.
Just as Dean got up, terrified, Sammy passed out back on his bed.