Sharon completed her rounds as usual. Being a psych nurse at this hospital had its benefits. Thanks to a recent, large donation with very specific directives she was able to spend more one-on-one time with the patients on her floor. Her most recent patient addition was a sad one. Samuel or "Sam" as he was referred to by his brother was a quiet, gentle (or so it seems, so far) giant. His brother was incredibly dedicated to Sam's recovery. Dean, Sam's brother, visited every day except Sundays. Sharon's guess is that he works to pay the bills when he's not here and he needs at least one full day to devote to work or whatever else he does with his rare time away from Sam, or "Sammy" which he lets slip now and then.
When she checks in with Sam, especially in the rare moments without Dean, Sharon notices a definite "disconnect". Sam isn't "present" most of the time. She does her best to get Sam to focus. He's in there at least a little bit. He doesn't fight meds or the feeding tube that was placed shortly after his arrival. Sam also doesn't seem to be sleeping. He's losing weight, even with the addition of the feeding tube; and his labs and blood draws have been deteriorating.
The first time Sharon hears Sam's voice, he is alone in his room. She's walking by on her rounds, when she hears him begging. "Please… don't. Jus' please." His voice sounds like he's been swallowing glass. When she walks into the room to check on him, she has a brief, amazing moment of eye contact. Sam sees her.
"Sam, are you doing okay? Is there anything you need?"
He clears his throat. "No ma'am. I'm fine, thanks."
Sharon smiles and before she can help herself, she gently runs her hand along his forehead checking for fever (he has none). "Okay hon, you just let me know. I've just got three patients to keep an eye on this evening."
Sam looks into her eyes, and for a brief moment, a warm smile passes his lips. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone. Sam jerked away from her and placed his hands on his ears. He began moaning and rocking. The only words she hears through the cries of pain are "please" and "Dean".
She decides that an update call to Dean can't hurt. After all, Sam seems to be the center of Dean's world (and vice-versa). The phone is answered by the first ring.
Before she can ask for Dean, she's interrupted. "Is he okay? I'm on my way."
"Dean, everything is about the same. I was just calling with an update. Sam spoke to me today and even had brief moments of eye contact and lucidity."
As though he were choking back tears, Dean asked, "Can I come visit? Just for a few minutes? It's been so long since… I just need to see him, please Sharon."
Visiting hours were long since over, but a benefit of the lower ratio of patients to nurses allowed her some flexibility. "Sure, come on up. I'll let them know I'm expecting you."
SPN**SPN**SPN**SPN
When Dean arrived, Sharon updated him on Sam's deteriorating labs, but she sounded so damn hopeful after their brief conversation, she was feeling pretty positive about Sam. They walked to Sam's room where the lights were dimmed but Sam was (as always) awake. He was scratching at his feeding tube; the tape had begun irritating his skin.
Sharon stood in the doorway. "If you need me, I'm at the desk." She watched for a moment, unsure if Dean heard her, but realized that it didn't really matter.
Dean sat on the edge of Sam's bed. "Sammy?"
Sam didn't respond, but Dean noticed the small scratches on his face were beginning to bleed. He gently grabbed Sam's hand and held it in his own. They sat that way for quite a few minutes, Sam staring off into space and Dean staring at Sam. Every now and then Sam would jolt, as if an electric shock pulsed through his body. Dean knew what Sam was seeing and/or feeling. It killed him that he couldn't help. He could feel how skinny Sam was getting, how paper-thin his skin had become. His dark circles under his eyes had dark circles. He was losing his brother. Slowly. Painfully. It had been several days since Sam acknowledged Dean's presence. He was jealous of the nurse, for just those few moments of Sammy-time.
Minutes became hours. Sharon checked in on the brothers, but there was no change. Dean was so tired, but if Sam wasn't going to sleep, neither was he. Sam jolted once again, this time he broke his hand free of Dean's and tried to rip out the feeding tube.
"Sammy no!" Dean yelled. Sharon came to check on them, but Dean waved her away. "I've got this. I've got 'im." With Sam's hand safely back in his, Dean gave into a moment of weakness; at least he felt weak. He held Sam's hand against the mattress with his own on top. Dean bowed his head and rested against their hands, quiet tears falling on both of them. They stayed this way for long enough that Dean was almost asleep. Just as he was about to give in to the exhaustion, he felt a hand on the top of his head.
"Shhhhh….shhhh. Dean, s'okay." Sam's voice was tender, yet strained.
"S…Sammy?" Dean raised his head to look straight into his little brother's eyes.
Sam's shaky hand continued down to rest on Dean's shoulder. "He's not 'ere right now. S'okay." As if the short conversation had completely drained him, Sam leaned back against his pillow and allowed Dean to continue to support his hand. He didn't, however, look away.
"It's good to hear your voice, man." Dean realized just how important and precious Sam's lucid moments had become. "Sammy, I'm gonna find you help."
Sam looked deep into Dean's eyes. "I know you'll try, Dean. Jus' know that I don't regret getting back my soul. Don' blame yourself for this. I'd rather die being me than being that soulless ass. I'm okay to die bein' me."
Dean could feel Sam's grip on reality slipping away and it killed him. Sam's gaze slowly went to the corner of the room and every now and again he'd flinch.
Dean got himself together, with a renewed purpose. He gathered Sam's face in his hands and forced him to look in his direction. Sadly, Sam seemed to stare right through him at this point.
Sharon walked in just as Dean fiercely promised his brother that he was going to fix this; no matter what.
She stepped aside as Dean began to leave. Stopping and giving her a fierce stare, Dean asked, "take care of him for me, Sharon. Okay?"
Understanding his intensity, Sharon grasped the locket around her neck. "Of course I will, Dean. You do whatever you need to." Dean's face softened for a minute and then he was gone. Sharon walked over to Sam and pulled his covers up to his chest. She smoothed his hair away from his eyes and walked out of the room. She unclasped the locket from her neck and opened it to see a photo of her and her sister taken long ago. Overwhelmed with memories of her own, she repeated… "You do whatever you need to do Dean. I understand."