A/N: Okay, here's my next multi-chapter fic! It's written in the same style as As Brothers Will Stand so for those of you that liked that one...here you go. It picks up from When the Levee Breaks, as if Cas had never opened the panic room door and let Sam out. However, it is now several years into the future. More details on that later. The Sarah in this fic is the Sarah from the show.

Warnings: These fic does deal with drug addiction and discussions about suicide. Please take note that none of the characters are suicidal but the topic does get brought up. If this needs to be bumped to an M rating later on, it will be, but right now, I don't think anything is going to get too graphic.

Today I felt a switch in my vein,
Today I made them all afraid.
Used to be a shadow,
Now a shadow scream my name.
"Ordinary Human" -OneRepublic

The security guard confiscated Dean's keys and his wallet and then questioned him for five minutes about why he kept a penknife hidden in his boot.

"Look, I didn't know I was going to be coming here," he said, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. "I didn't mean anything by it." The guard rolled his eyes because he saw oblivious idiots like the guy in front of him every day, but eventually stuck Dean's accessories in a row of lockers and then gave Dean a ticket instead of the key.

"Okay, you're good," the guard said. He had a red moustache that trembled when he spoke and his breath smelled like rancid meat. Dean tried to give a smile but failed.

"Thanks," he said, shoving his feet back in his shoes and doing up the laces. "Uh, this is my first time here…"

"Just follow the hall and you'll come to a desk. You here to visit someone?" Dean nodded.

"My brother."

"Good luck, man. It ain't pretty in there. I don't envy you."

"Thanks," Dean muttered. Unlike the rest of the hospital, the Psych Ward was quiet with no bustling nurses, at least not in the entryway. The silence made Dean uneasy as he started down the hallway. There was only a white linoleum floor and no pictures on the beige walls and he couldn't help but wonder why they would put crazy people in such a depressing place.

"The front desk sat beside a pair of double doors that wore a sign declaring 'AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY' in red block letters.

"Can I help you?" The bubblegum pink scrubs didn't match the nurse's severe expression. She looked like she'd been sitting behind the desk for the last ten years, like a dragon guarding her hoard of treasure.

"Hi, I'm Dean Winchester. My brother is here."

"What's his name?" she asked, turning automatically to the computer.

"Sam Winchester." Dean rubbed the back of his neck as she typed fiercely then made a couple clicks.

"There's a Sam Winchester that was brought in yesterday."

"That's him."

"Well, he's allowed visitors. Are you on the list?"

"What list?" She sighed and pointed to a list of rules taped to the desk. NO WEAPONS was the first one that he saw; that explained why the guard had given him such a problem about the knife. "Each patient has a list of approved visitors. Only they can add and remove names. Are you on your brother's list?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted, scanning over the rest of the rules (NO OUTSIDE FOOD, NO MONEY, NO CELLPHONES, NO UPSETTING NEWS TO BE DELIVERED WITHOUT DOCTOR PRESENT). "I should be though."

"Dean, you said?" She turned back to the computer and pulled up a new screen. "No, sorry. There's no one on Sam Winchester's list."

"I'm his brother," Dean said unnecessarily. "I have to be on the list. He would want me here, trust me." Her expression softened just a little at his obvious confusion.

"Unlike other parts of the hospital, our patients make a list of people that might be beneficial toward their health. Your brother hasn't named anyone yet so we can't let you in there without his permission. You might upset him and he's in a very fragile place right now." She was clearly repeated something she had learned from a typed transcript.

"I know," Dean said. "Which is why I have to be with him."

"Mr. Winchester, I'm sorry, I can't let you back there."

"It must be a mistake then," Dean insisted. "I practically raised the kid. He wouldn't refuse to see me. Maybe he just doesn't know I'm here. I live a ways out so he might not to have thought to put me on the list or whatever."

"I still can't help you. But it sounds like you love your brother very much. If you give me your cell number, I can give you a call if he says anything about adding you." Dean took a long steadying breath and put on his most charming smile, the one that could get a waitress out of her apron faster than he could take a shot. Which was pretty damn fast.

"Look," he said, leaning against the counter as if to tell her a secret. "I know you guys have your rules and I get that, I do. But is there any way you could maybe just ask Sam?"

"I'm not sure…" she said. "That's against protocol." For all her stodginess, she was losing her battle against Dean Winchester's natural charisma. "We aren't supposed to interfere with set schedules."

"All you have to do is ask him," Dean cajoled, leaning an inch closer. "If he says no, I promise I'll leave." His grin broadened. "Scout's honor."

In the next second, she was on the phone and a minute later another nurse was coming through the double doors.

"Harriet, could you please tell Sam Winchester that his brother Dean is here. See if Sam wants him on the list?"

Harriet swiped a key attached to her scrubs to get back through the doors and disappeared without saying a word.

Dean took the next few minutes to decompress. If he was going to be allowed to see Sam, then he had to look calm. Which wasn't exactly easy to do after the past twenty-four hours. He'd been working a skinwalker case in Mississippi when Sarah had called from the hospital. It was a lucky coincidence that he'd forgotten to turn his phone off like usual or else he wouldn't have even fielded the call.

His wife of seven years had found Sam in the basement after picking their daughter up from school. He was unconscious and bleeding from a head wound and she'd had no choice but to call an ambulance.

"He's using again," Sarah had told Dean. He'd been wiping blood off the Impala with a spare rag but froze at her words, every inch of his body tensing at the three words. There were enough to stop his heart, to make his toes curl in fear and ultimate disappointment.

"Are you sure?" Dean was careful not to let his words waver, not to let his swelling emotions creep into his tone.

"I'm at the hospital," Sarah said. "He overdosed." The 'O' word. The one that was almost taboo in an addict's world and therefore the world of his family. Overdosing didn't exist, he didn't happen to the people you knew and loved.

Until it did.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled, slamming the driver door of the Impala as he started her up.

"He hit his head and got a couple stitches but they say he'll be fine on that end."

"I'm on my way."

"Dean…" There was something she wasn't telling him, he could hear the hesitation before and after his name, stretching like the physical difference between them.

"They're holding him for forty-eight hours."

"I thought you said his head wasn't that bad."

"Not for his head," she said quietly, almost whispering. "They're holding him in the Psychiatric Ward."

It was a seventeen hour drive from Mississippi to Colorado where Sam and Sarah lived. Seventeen straight hours in the car and then he'd had to wait until two that afternoon before the guard would let him through because visiting hours didn't start until then.

"Mr. Winchester?" He turned back to the doors, rubbing his thumb along his jaw, a nervous habit he'd picked up from his father when he was still a teenager. Harriet had come back and was holding out a visitor badge to him; he took it and clipped it to his shirt pocket, brushing at the remaining food crumbs littering his collar.

There was more activity beyond the mysterious double doors. They walked into an open space, the focal point immediately making itself known as the nurses' station in the center where no fewer than five nurses were seated. Rooms were situated around it in a circle, some open to reveal bedrooms, some closed off.

"Your brother is in his room," Harriet said, glancing back at Dean who was taking everything in. "He's in a room by himself at the moment but please keep the door open and I'll be standing just outside if you need anything." Dean wasn't sure how someone who looked like she ate air for breakfast was going to help him out with Sam but he thanked her anyway.

She swiped her key again and the door in front of them opened and Dean realized they had Sam locked inside. With bile gathering in the back of his throat, Dean walked in, not sure at all what to expect.

It wasn't set up like a regular hospital room but a bedroom with a chest of drawers in one corner, an armchair in the other. A twin bed was set up in the middle of the room and sprawled across it was Sam.

His brother looked rough. There were bruises underneath his eyes, and the left one was swollen where the cut above his eyebrow was bandaged. His hair was stringy and when he glanced up at the door opening, Dean's heart dropped at the clouded gaze Sam turned on him.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, bud, it's me."

"They said you were here." Each word was costing Sam effort, Dean could see him focusing on pushing each one out, stringing them together like beads on a necklace. "Wanted to see me."

"They got you on something?" Dean asked, pulling up the one folding chair in the room. Sam's back was up against the headboard, his hands folded in his lap, legs stretched out, almost hanging off the end of the bed. He was dressed in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of thin hospital pants.

"Yeah," Sam said. "I yelled." His voice grew smaller at the confession, turning contrite as if he were a child again. "Dean, I yelled." That's when Dean noticed the whiteboard hanging by the door. Sam Winchester. 6'4". 215 pounds. Opiate Overdose. Violence Tendencies.

Was this the right Sam? Violent Tendencies? The guy who liked to hug people at the bar when he'd had too much to drink?

"Sammy, did you hit someone?" Dean asked, knowing they wouldn't have sedated him for simply yelling. Sam ducked his head and his fingers began twisting together in his lap, his anxiety palpable even through his lack of energy.

"I didn't mean it," he said to his chest. "Dean, I didn't mean to."

"Okay," Dean said, leaning back and exhaling a deep sigh. This was a lot worse than he had thought. He hadn't visited in six months – not since Christmas – but the last time he was in Colorado, Sam had finally seemed normal again. Dean had thought they were over this.

"Sam, let me see your head." Ever obliging to his older brother, Sam turned toward Dean and let Dean peel back the bandage to reveal an angry cut with four stitches. "Does it hurt?"

"Nope," Sam said. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"They took away my pills."

"I know."

"Will you get them back for me? Please?"

"I don't think so," Dean said, watching Sam's eyes widen. His sat up, fighting the tranquilizer he'd obviously been given too much of. There was no way Sam would be this loose-tongued if he wasn't half asleep. Dean had to wonder what else they'd given him.

"I need them," Sam said, reaching for Dean's hand. Dean gave it to him and was startled to find his brother's hands felt like the inside of a freezer.

"Jeez, Sammy," Dean said, unfolding the blanket from the foot of his bed and spreading it out over his brother. "You're freezing."

"I need them," Sam repeated. "There's a doctor here. Will you find him and tell him?"

"Sure," Dean lied. "Hey, how come you haven't put Sarah on your visitor list?"

Sam actually shrunk back as if Dean had slapped him, wrenching his hand from Dean's grasp where he'd been trying to warm it up.

"Easy," Dean said, alarmed. "It's okay, I was just wondering."

"I didn't want…" Sam trailed off, gaze fixed over Dean's shoulder.

"Sam?"

"Why are you here?" Sam asked.

"Sarah called me," Dean said in his most patient voice. "She was worried about you. Said you took too many of those pills."

"No," Sam said, shaking his head and wincing at the pain it caused, letting his fingers brush against his new injury. Dean pulled them away before he hurt himself more. Sam's arm dropped like a dead weight. "I didn't."

"I think you did. Do you remember how you hurt your head?"

"Fell."

"Yeah, you did. Because you took too many pills. Probably got dizzy, huh?" Sam shrugged but didn't answer.

"I haven't been doing it, Dean. I've been good."

"Alright," Dean said. "Don't worry, we'll get you sorted out."

"Dean," Sam hissed, pulling his brother closer with surprising strength. "I didn't drink any."

"Okay," Dean said, glancing behind him at the open door.

"No demon blood," Sam said. "Not even a little."

"Shh," Dean said, frantic to keep Sam's voice down. If they heard Sam talking like this, they really would think he was crazy and they might find reason to keep him in the place for even longer. "Let's talk about it later."

"Don't tell Sarah," Sam begged. "I didn't mean to."

"Are you hungry?" Dean asked, noticing a bag of crackers was on the dresser and trying to change the subject. "Do you want something to eat?"

"Don't tell Sarah," Sam said again. "I don't want her here."

"I figured that," Dean said. "But she's your wife, man." To his horror, Sam eyes spilled over with sudden tears, running down his cheeks like a trickling waterfall.

"No, Dean. I just want you. I don't want her to see me."

"Okay, bud," Dean said, getting out of the chair and sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing Sam's shoulder. "Let's just concentrate on getting you better." Sam scooched down on the bed until his head was lying against Dean's thigh, his legs curled up under the blanket. He let out a soft sigh when Dean brushed tender fingers through his hair, sweeping his bangs away from his face. He was comforted by Sam's warm breath floating by his knee and almost missed the quiet whisper.

"Are you mad at me?" If Dean's heart was heavy before, it then became an anchor rooting him to the spot. He hand still overtop of Sam's head and his brother turned to look up at him, confused by the silence. "Dean?"

"No, Sammy," Dean choked out, swallowing down his emotion. He had to be strong, for his little brother. "No, I'm not mad." Satisfied, Sam closed his eyes and Dean resumed the soothing motion, listening intently Sam's already slow breaths evened out and became deeper, and Dean couldn't help but wonder how the man laying on his lap was the one who used to want to save the world.

xxx

Dean stayed until visiting hours were over at four. Sam was asleep until then and when Harriet came back to kick Dean out, he tried to slip off the bed without waking his brother but Sam's eyes blinked open as soon as he lost contact with Dean.

"D'n?"

"Right here." Sam wiped a string of drool from his cheek and sat up, rubbing his forehead.

"Where are you going?"

"Visiting hours are over. I gotta go home but I'll come back tomorrow, maybe talk to your doctor."

"You can't talk to his doctor unless he signs a form," Harriet told Dean while bringing Sam's shoes over to him. "Sam, put these on. I'm going to take you to group. Do you need help?" He blinked at her, unable to process the fast pace at which she spoke.

"With what?" She motioned to the shoes and he flushed.

"No. I don't – I don't so."

"He's fine," Dean said. "He can do it by himself." But Sam was moving as if encased in water, his limbs seemed to float through the air with no destination in mind.

"Sir, you need to leave," Harriet said. "We'll take good care of him."

"You're leaving?" Sam asked, one shoe half on.

"How much of that stuff did you give him?" Dean asked. "He's a person, not an elephant."

"I'm not at liberty to say," Harriet said, crouching down and jamming the shoe all the way onto Sam's foot.

"I'll help him," Dean said, brushing her aside and tying the laces of Sam's shoe before reaching for the other.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said, both relief and exhaustion clear in his voice.

"No problem, buddy. We've done this before, right? No big deal."

"Yeah," Sam said as Harriet stepped away with her arms crossed over her chest. She couldn't deny that Dean Winchester had a way with his brother. Sam had caused nothing but problems since they brought him in yesterday; sedatives were the only thing that were able to calm him down and even on those he was largely unresponsive. Now, with his brother, this was as interactive as she'd seen him so far.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Dean said, still squatting in front of Sam. "Okay?" He waited for Sam to nod. "Sammy, be good for these people. Don't hit them."

"They took away my pills," Sam whined.

"I know but that's not a good reason to hurt someone. I'm going to be back tomorrow to see you and maybe talk to your doctor if you'll let me."

"But not Sarah."

"We'll see," Dean said. "It's up to you. Why don't you think about it?" Sam nodded again. "So, when am I gonna be back?"

"Tomorrow." Dean stood and winced as his spine cracked. All the time in the car and then sitting on the bed for over an hour wasn't helping his already-sore muscles.

"That's right. Um, have fun at the group thing. See you later."

"I'll be right back," Harriet told Sam and then ushered Dean out the door and back down the hall. She practically pushed him back through the double door and then he was standing in the quiet again, being scrutinized by the front desk nurse. He gave her a wave of recognition, which she ignored and then went to collect his possessions from the lockers.

"How'd it go?" the guard ask, tugging his belt over his belly as he stood to hand Dean back his stuff.

"Fine."

"How's your brother?"

"How do you think?" Dean snapped. The guard raised those ginger eyebrows but didn't look offended.

"Yeah, it's rough, man. Any idea how long he'll be in there?"

"Not long," Dean said.

"That's what they all say," he heard the guard mutter at his back as he left the hospital.

xxx

When Sam had gone back to find Sarah after the demon blood withdrawal, she had acquired some property in Colorado that left to her by a relative. The house was a good size but cozy and sat on an impressive twenty acres of land. Gravel crunched underneath the Impala's tires as he drove down the lane to the house. It sat on an open space with a large front lawn encompassed from all directions by a thick forest. It was, Dean had to admit, a pretty darn nice place to live. Privacy was guaranteed but fifteen minutes in any direction would get them to all the necessary shops and stores. The hospital was twenty-five minutes away but the time between the two places gave him time to think.

He had no idea what he was going to say to Sarah or what he was supposed to say. The two of them got along for the most part, bonded by their unconditional love for Sam. But Dean had made himself scarce as the couple settled down, married, and then had a kid. Sure, he checked in on Sam often enough but whenever he visited for more than a couple days at a time, he felt like an intruder, or worse: someone playing house in a make-believe world. The domestic life had never been for Dean and probably never would.

Still, he appreciated and respected Sam's decision to leave hunting behind. Hell, it was all he ever wanted for him. Even in the early Stanford days when Dean had been too stubborn to pick up Sam's phone calls, there was a fierce comfort deep inside him knowing that Sam had escaped.

Real life, though, still had its demons. They found that out pretty soon.

The front door was locked because Sam had taught Sarah to be cautious and paranoid all at once so Dean had to ring the doorbell. It was a modest house that they had landscaped themselves with bushes and flowers decorating the walk up to the door. The last time he had been here, everything was covered in a foot of snow but now the flowers were bright with color, orange marigolds the color of the sunset, red geraniums peeking out shyly from hanging baskets.

Sarah opened the door after a minute, throwing it wide to let him through.

"Hey, Sarah," he said, setting his duffel down.

"Hi, Dean," was all she said before she threw her arms around him. Surprised at the gesture, it took him a moment to wrap his arms around her but he did so with care, rubbing her back for a minute as she turned her face into his shoulder.

"Sorry," she said, pulling away and wiping one hand across her face, looking ashamed.

"Mommy, was that Daddy?" Sam's daughter came running around the corner, skidding on the wooden floor in just her socks and a yellow sundress. It would have been comical how fast her face dropped when she saw Dean if it wasn't so incredibly sad. In an instant, she turned shy, ducking her chin and shifting from foot to foot.

"It's Uncle Dean," Sarah said because everything had just dropped ten degrees in friendliness. "Don't you want to say hi?" The little girl was the spitting image of her mother with a pretty face and curly dark hair that was held back by pink sparkly barrettes. But her eyes were Sam's and they blinked out at Dean with reproach.

"I want Daddy to come home," she said and then ran back the way she had come.

"She's not taking it well," Sarah said and sighed. "Obviously."

"What'd you tell her?" She shrugged and led him into the kitchen, pouring a glass of wine and then offering him a beer.

"That he was gonna be gone for a couple days. She doesn't know he's sick. I don't know how to explain that to a six year old."

Dean took a sip of beer so he didn't have to respond.

"How was he?" He dropped the beer onto the table and rubbed both hands over his face, trying to pull his thoughts together.

"They have him sedated. They can't tell me anything unless he signs a release form and he wasn't signing anything today." It was difficult to be this candid with Sarah when her eyes kept widening and the worried look on her face turned into fear. But she deserved to know, as much as Dean didn't want to tell her. "They have him down as being violent."

"Sam?"

"I know. He must have been pretty upset."

"I was there for a while yesterday," Sarah said, "But he wouldn't – he didn't want me to see him. I couldn't get in." Her voice dropped and she whispered the last sentence, fiddling with the stem of the wine glass, rubbing at it with her thumb as if that would change the situation. Dean was already halfway done with his beer.

"He's really messed up. I don't think he wants you to see him like that."

"I'm his wife," Sarah implored, raising her gaze to meet Dean's. "Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Of course it does," he said, growing uncomfortable. One reason he didn't like hanging out with Sarah and Sam was this. He didn't doubt Sam loved Sarah but at his core, he still relied the heaviest on Dean and that put the older Winchester is a tough spot with his brother's wife. They all knew it was true but no one like to think about it. "Sarah, I think he's just scared. He probably doesn't want to let you down."

"Well, he did," she said, tone clipped. "When he took those pills."

"How long do you think?" Dean asked. "How long has it been going on?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe a couple months but he's so good at hiding it. You know that."

"Yeah," Dean said remembering how Sam had been so careful when he was sneaking around with Ruby. Sarah still didn't know about that and Dean found no reason to tell her now.

"Hey, sweetie," Sarah said as Lucy came into the room, holding a stuff animal under her arm. She climbed onto her mother's lap and Dean slid the wineglass toward him so that the little girl didn't knock it off. "Are you getting hungry for dinner?" Lucy nodded, eyes on Dean.

Unlike Sarah, Sam's daughter had never taken to Dean. He supposed he intimidated her but then again, other kids liked him well enough so he didn't know what her problem. She was only six years old but it made him feel like there was something wrong with him.

"You know," Dean said to the little girl. "I saw your Daddy today." She sat up taller in her mother's lap and glanced up at Sarah and then back at Dean.

"You did?"

"Yeah. He said to tell you hi."

"He did?"

"Yep," Dean said, nodding emphatically.

"Is he gonna come home soon?" Lucy wanted to know.

"I think so," Dean said. "But he definitely misses you."

"I drew him pictures," Lucy said. "Do you want to see them?" Dean found himself nodding, surprised as he was that she had asked him. She was a shy child to begin with and then with the whole not-liking Dean thing…well, the two of them didn't spend a lot of quality time together. None, actually.

She ran down the hallway, dress fanning out behind her and he followed at a slower pace. As they climbed the stairs to her room, he paused to look at the pictures scattered along the walls. There were the usual family portraits taken at studios and Sam looked uncomfortable in every single one of them. Dean could just imagine Sarah forcing him to put on a sweater and tie for the occasion and thanked God right then and there that he wasn't married. The pictures were nice, he had to admit, but he liked the candid shots the best. Sarah had a knack for photography and that meant a great deal of the photos were of Sam and Lucy. One in particular caught his eye.

Like the majority of themm it featured Sam and Lucy together. Taken sometime when Lucy was a toddler, it showed her sitting on Sam's shoulders, his hands raised up to steady her. Her chubby fingers were grasping fistfuls of his hair and there was a look of pure delight on her face as Sarah had snapped the picture mid-laugh. Sam was smiling too, and not one of those posed, fake smiles but a genuine one of real content.

"I thought you were happy," muttered Dean to the Sam in the picture. "Why'd you do it?"

"Uncle Dean?" Lucy's head popped around the corner, dark hair swinging. "Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah, I'm coming," he said, taking a last glance at the picture, wanting to cement the old-Sam in his mind for the days to come. He didn't know what they would bring but he knew there was going to be trouble.

That's just how things went for the Winchesters.

A/N: Hey guys, let me know if you want me to continue this. It's a little different, I know, but maybe y'all are interested? I don't know but tell me if you are!