Summary: Outsider's POV. A young man is brought into the hospital in Joilet, Illinois and apparently has schizophrenia. After all, he was found wandering the side of the road, covered in blood, mumbling something about 'Lucifer'. What else could it be? Who knew I would be introduced to a whole other world and see the most remarkable relationship? Hurt!Sam. Brotherly!Dean. Some wonderful brotherly love.

Setting: Sometime Season 7, but before Bobby's death

Warnings: Mild language. Mild violence, could be considered mild torture. Minor AU in regards to Dean's amulet

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the characters that are not canon. Jasmine and Dr. Lauren are mine.

John Doe

I watched as the young man was wheeled into Room 4 and frowned. The man was completely restrained but appeared to be sedated. I turned to Susan behind the desk.

"What's going on with the new patient?" I asked.

"Was found wandering the side of the road, no shoes and no shirt," Susan said. "He was covered in blood and mumbling."

"He's dangerous then?" I said, glancing back at the closed door of Room 4.

Susan shrugged.

I knew it probably wasn't my business but, hey, I'm a nurse on duty. Every patient is my business. As such, I walked over and knocked on the door before pushing it open.

"Dr. Lauren," I said in surprise. Dr. Mona Lauren was the top doctor in our little clinic that barely passed for a hospital. She was never in the ER and never treated a patient personally unless there was something wrong. Either the patient was dying or there was something psychologically wrong.

I looked at the patient with another frown. The young man's long brown hair was plastered to his forehead. The man was pretty much catatonic except for the fact that his head was rolling to the sides and he was weakly fighting his restraints.

"Can I help you, Jasmine?" Dr. Lauren asked, looking up from where she was sliding a needle into the patient's arm.

"Oh, uh, I just wanted to see if you needed any help," I said, watching her get another needle and draw blood.

"I'm fine, Nurse, but thank you."

I raised an eyebrow at the second vial of blood being taken. "What happened exactly?"

"He was found wandering around and covered in blood," Dr. Lauren said. "I think he may be schizophrenic so we will treat him here and then send him to the psych hospital."

My eyes were drawn to the mumbling patient. His hands were in tight fists and he was now actively struggling against his bonds. His entire body was stiff as he arched and pulled, trying to get free. I winced at his cut up feet, probably from walking around without shoes.

"Who is he?" I asked. Surely someone was looking for this man. He wasn't local but maybe he was with someone.

"He didn't have any ID on him so he is currently a John Doe," Dr. Lauren said and gathered the—I blinked—three vials of blood. "Excuse me, Jasmine."

"Of course," I said and stepped aside to let her leave. When she was gone, I turned back to our John Doe. I looked at the two IV bags that had been set up. One was a heavy sedative and the other was—I walked closer and my eyebrows jumped up—for seizures.

Had John Doe had a seizure? I hoped so. If not, the drug could severely slow the man's heart and restrict his muscle movements.

A moan had me looking into the man's face for the first time. Despite still being extremely tense, the drugs were clearly kicking in because he no longer moved. I met his eyes. They were hazy, dull, and filled with...pain and fear? They were a nice hazel though and I was sure usually very expressive.

"Sir?" I said calmly and softly. I wasn't sure how he was still awake with such a strong sedative. "Do you know where you are?"

His mouth moved, clearly trying to form words, but he didn't speak.

"You're in Illinois. Joilet, Illinois," I told him. "You're in the hospital." I let a hand rest on one of his fists. It tensed further if it was possible and tried to pull away but the restraints made it impossible.

I watched him fight the drugs and lose. Even asleep and sedated, John Doe's hands remained clenched and his body taut.

"You're safe here," I said despite him being unconscious.

I frowned for the third time. Someone had to be missing this man.

I dropped my file in the one pile and grabbed another. I flipped it open and read through the patient's ailment. This night shift was oddly slow. A few drunks, a bar fight, and a one-car car accident.

It was Kate behind the counter and Misty was the other nurse working the shift with me.

I was about to go get the latest drunk and get him into a bed when I was startled by a shout coming from Room 4. I looked at the closed door, my eyebrows furrowing. John Doe was still here after two days and he was still a John Doe. I didn't understand it. How could no one be looking for this man?

I heard another shout and made my way to Room 4. I knocked and pushed the door open.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I said and tried not to panic at the scene.

From what I knew, electroshock therapy was not a part of this facility. However, I knew it when I saw it and John Doe was definitely going through electroshock therapy. The instrument was being held to his temples, the rubber mouth guard had clearly broken from the force of John Doe's bite. His body was arched off the bed, his body was tight, his fists were clenched. Blood was trickling out of his ears and nose. Blood was dripping through the fingers of his right hand. His temples were red and beginning to look burnt. He was drenched in sweat.

As I watched, the electricity was stopped and John Doe collapsed onto the bed, his body twitching in aftershock. While everything else released slightly, his eyes remained shut tight and his right hand clenched.

"Dr. Lauren, what is going on?" I couldn't not ask. I had to know why this man was undergoing such torturous treatment.

"He has a severe case of schizophrenia," she said. "This appears to be the only course of action."

"What brought this on?"

"He is hallucinating," she said, removing the instrument from the man's head. "He is raving on about angels and demons and Lucifer and some 'Dean'. He also refuses to open his hand." She gestured to his now bloody right fist.

"That is important?" Dean?

"He is holding something and it is harming him," she said and I couldn't argue. John Doe was bleeding. "Restrain him."

I watched the other nurses restrain his legs again and tighten the ones on his arms. I was surprised they weren't sedating him this time. He had been sedated for the last two days.

"The treatment will keep him compliant for the night," Dr. Lauren said as though hearing my thoughts.

"Right," I said. "Do you need anything?"

Say no, I said silently. Let me go find this 'Dean', see if he exists.

"No, thank you, Jasmine," she said and I tried not to breathe out in relief. "Continue with your night." And with a smile, she left the room.

I frowned at the uneasy feeling that had fallen into my stomach. I couldn't help but think something was going on, something wrong.

I turned to John Doe who was breathing heavily, his eyes still closed. I took a piece of paper towel from the wall dispenser and wet it in the sink. I slowly approached him. His head was turned away from me, giving me a clear view of the burnt temple and the blood trailing from his ear.

"Sir?" I said, not wanting to startle him with un unexpected and possibly unwelcome touch. "Sir, can you hear me?"

I thought I heard a quiet moan.

"Sir, I wish to help you. Can you hear me?"

I watched his head twitch and heard a clear sound, a whimper.

"You're all right," I said. "You'll be okay. You can get past this. Your condition does not have to rule your life."

"Nnnh."

"Sir?"

"D'n."

I frowned. What was he saying? Should I even be trying to reach a schizophrenic?

"D'n."

What did that mean?

"D'n."

"Sir, I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"D'n."

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry."

I wished I knew what he was saying. I wanted to help him. I wanted to get him better and home, wherever his home was.

"Raving on about some 'Dean'."

The comment filtered through my mind completely randomly.

"D'n."

I looked at John Doe's face. "Dean?" I said and watched the clear reaction.

John Doe's head turned to me and his eyes opened, looking through his pain and fear and confusion at me. Despite the tremors still racking his body, John Doe struggled against his bonds, fighting as hard as he currently could to free his right hand in particular.

"Sir, you must calm down." I went to place the wet paper towel on his forehead but he jerked away.

"D'n!"

"Dean?" I said. "Are you saying 'Dean'?"

His head jerked but I knew it was meant to be a nod.

"Who is Dean? Do you want me to find Dean?"

"D'n...f'n...D'n...'fer..."

"Who is Dean, sir?"

"D'n...b...er..."

My eyebrows came together as I tried to translate. "Brother?" I realized. "Is he your brother?"

"D'n."

I was so close to him that I felt it when he made the attempt to nudge my hip with his bound right hand. I looked down and watched his bloody fingers open stiffly. I leaned down in curiosity to see what he was holding.

I touched his fingers lightly, quietly apologizing when he flinched, and pushed them back carefully. It revealed a broken black rope with a bloody pendant. I could see the pendant was supposed to be gold. I could also see that he had held the pendant so tight it reopened a barely healed wound.

I gently pulled the necklace from his hand and, treating it like it was a precious gem, I carefully wiped some of the blood away with my thumb. I examined it. I wasn't sure what exactly it was supposed to be. It had a face and horns, but looked vaguely human. I thought it looked Egyptian or Zoroastrian or something exotic.

Glancing at John Doe's pinched face, I quickly rinsed the pendant in the sink and dried it. Then I returned to the young man.

"Is this your brother's?" I asked, holding it up.

"D'n," he said and I assumed it was confirmation.

"I will find him," I promised. I reached over to unfold his left hand and gently pressed the amulet into his palm. His fingers immediately curled around it. "Hold onto that for Dean. I promise I'll find him so he can get it back."

I patted that hand and then treated his right. The drugs and exhaustion finally pulled him under while I was wrapping his hand with bandages.

Once done, I commandeered the computer at the nurse's station and began a worldwide search for 'Dean'.

I yawned again as I skimmed through the information of another 'Dean'. I really should go home and go to bed—it was four-thirty in the morning after all—but I didn't feel right leaving John Doe. So, instead, I clicked on 'Dean Viscall' and read his profile.

I was reading about his five sisters when I spotted movement over the nurse's station which stayed well above me given my massive slouching. I sat up slowly and quietly to avoid attracting attention when the lamp nearby flickered violently and the computer screen went crazy. I made sure to keep my breathing steady and quiet as I peeked over the desk, just enough to have from my eyes up visible.

I felt my eyes widen comically as I spotted Dr. Lauren heading into Room 4. What was she doing? What business did she have with John Doe at four-thirty a.m.? Also important: did she know I was there? It would have been impossible to see me in the position I had been in unless one had come up to the desk and looked over.

I held my breath and didn't even twitch when Dr. Lauren's head cocked to the side. I fought against a gasp when the light briefly illuminated her black eyes.

Then the phone rang and I startled so bad I knocked over my chair and knocked the phone off the little machine.

I was paralyzed for a moment as Dr. Lauren spun to face me. Meeting the black eyes directly made me pick up the phone where someone was speaking.

"...me, goddamn it!"

It was a man's voice. That's all I took notice of before I began to talk really fast, keeping my eyes on Dr. Lauren as I backed up, aware the phone cord was stretching beyond its limits.

"Please help me. Someone's in the doctor. She's going to kill me and the patient. Help me, please help me," I said in a rush.

I screamed and the phone fell from my hand as Dr. Lauren leaped over the desk and tackled me. I could still hear the man on the phone as he screamed for a response.

The dark took me quickly after that.

I was much more aware waking up more than usual despite the fact that my head had been smashed into a linoleum floor. I blinked slowly, bringing the world into focus and attempting to stop the violent pounding behind my eyes. I was aware of the splintered chair and smashed computer. I was aware of my hair being damp and sticking to my head. I also became aware of a muffled male voice and I rolled my head to look dumbly at the phone.

I reached out with a hand that felt disconnected from my body and fumbled to grasp the plastic receiver. I managed eventually and pulled it closer, nudging it up to my ear so I could hear and talk without actually using the energy it would take to hold it up.

"...happened? Answer me! I'm looking for my brother!"

Brother?

"Yes, my brother! Sam! Where is he?"

"Who-who is this?"

"Who is this?"

I licked my lips and blinked again, trying to get some kind of bearing back. "J-Jasmine. 'M Jasmine."

"Jasmine. What's happening?"

Good question. What had happened? I had been on the computer, looking for...something. Then what?

"Jasmine? Jasmine!"

I jerked but said nothing as I continued to try and remember. Someone had come. Someone...a doctor...Dr. Lauren. She was going in a room.

Room 4. John Doe.

Eyes. Black eyes.

I fought nausea and spots in my vision and pain exploding in my head as I sat up quickly at the memories.

"I swear to God, if you don't answer me, I will shoot you!"

I picked up the phone at the very clear threat.

"E-eyes, her eyes! She was—there was something wrong. I-I don't—I don't know why she was here. Oh God, the patient! She-she was after him!"

"Who? Who was after who? Jasmine, I need you to calm down and talk to me."

I tried to listen. I tried to take deep breaths to slow my pounding heart which was not helping my pounding head. I curled up and placed my head between my bent knees, taking slow, deep breaths.

"Jasmine?"

I took a few more breaths and then turned my attention to answering the man on the phone.

"I'm here."

"You good?"

"For the most part," I said and lifted my head from between my legs to rest my forehead on my knee. "Who are you?"

"My name's Dean," he said.

Dean? Why did that name seem important?

"Why are you calling here?"

"I'm looking for my brother. He was in a car accident and I've been calling the nearest hospitals looking for him."

"You weren't with him?"

"No, I was in our motel room. He...sleepwalks. This time was intense. Took my car and everything. Found it in pretty much the next state."

"What state are you in?"

"We were in Kentucky. Found my car near the Indiana border but also close to Illinois. I've been trying the closest hospitals in the three states."

"Who's your brother?"

"His name is Sam. Is he there?"

"I don't know. I don't think we've got a Sam here," I said and made myself fumbled around the desk above my head, searching for the sign in sheet. "We've got a John Doe. He's been here for going on...three?...three days, I think."

"What's he look like?"

"Um." I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember through the pain.

"What's happening? Are you okay?"

"I think I was attacked," I said. "Yeah, the doctor. She-she attacked me. Her eyes...they were-they were weird. Black."

I heard a curse on the other end of the phone.

"Is she there?"

I frowned. "No."

"Tell me about the John Doe."

I frowned more at the abrupt change. "Around thirty. Hazel eyes. Long brown hair. Tall, really tall. Never seen him standing but I can tell he's giant."

There was a huff of laughter from Dean. "That's him, that's Sam. How is he? Is he okay?"

"They've kept him sedated, restrained. He doesn't seem to be injured, not like he had been in a car accident. He's got a wound on his right hand but it looks older."

"Yeah, he's had that for a couple weeks now. Thing keeps opening, won't heal. It opened again?"

I nodded then realized Dean couldn't exactly see a nod through a phone. "He was holding onto a necklace and it broke it open." I thought I heard a rumble through the phone and wondered how long it had been there.

"You said he's been sedated and restrained. How's he doing? He doesn't usually do well with restraints. What's been happening to him?"

I cleared my throat as it burned with a need for water but this seemed more important. "The doctor—Dr. Lauren—she said he has schizophrenia. He's been being treated for schizophrenia and seizures."

"What?" Dean's voice was tight and I heard the rumble increase in volume.

"He went through a session of electroshock therapy yesterday," I said. "He's been delirious and lethargic."

"He's been sedated for three days, of course he's lethargic. What else?"

"Been asking for someone," I said and realized then why the name 'Dean' was suddenly important. "Been asking for a 'Dean'."

"Me, he's trying to find me. He must've had a...dream. I usually help him through them. He must've been too far gone to wake me up. Is he okay? After the treatment?"

"Dr. Lauren did an excess of the treatment. It was extreme. His head is burnt and he was bleeding."

Dean cursed again, this time extremely loud. "I'll be there in thirty minutes. Keep an eye on him. Also—and don't ask questions—find salt. Go in Sam's room, close and lock the door, and pour a line of salt across the door and any windows. Do not leave the room. Do not open the door until I get there. Understand?"

My eyebrows furrowed at the odd request.

"Jasmine!"

I jerked and the movement made me aware of the pain in my head again. "Y-yes, I get it. I'll do it."

The phone went dead. I blinked at the receiver and then dropped it. I then dropped my head into my hands.

What exactly had just happened? What was happening?

Sam? Dean? Salt?

What the hell?

I made myself move, though, and eventually stumbled to the staff room. I threw open the cupboards, searching for salt. In my painfully confused mind, I was surprised to find a small canister hidden behind a box of three year old Ritz crackers. I snatched it and did my best to hurry to Room 4. My head was still pounding, making my eyes water, but it was at least semi-bearable for the moment.

I pushed the door to Room 4 open and charged in, only to stop in my tracks with wide eyes. There was a lot of red was the first thing my mind told me which could have meant various things. However, in this situation, it ended up meaning that there was blood, a lot of it. The next thing my mind told me was that the blood was coming from the large form of John Doe—excuse me...Sam. Finally, my mind told me that Sam was very, very still.

It took me longer than it should've as a nurse to react to the situation. For the longest time, I literally just stood there staring as though I was a thirteen year old girl with absolutely no idea how to handle such a situation.

I managed to make myself move, though, and was soon laying down a line of salt across the door. It was still so strange but I felt compelled to do it. I did a quick line on the windowsill and then put the canister on the little table next to the bed as I examined Sam-previously-known-as-John-Doe.

Whoever had done this—and I was pretty sure it was Dr. Lauren or whatever the hell she was—had been sure to make it last as long as possible.

The cuts were both deep enough and shallow enough to cause damage and eventually death but only after quite some time. There were three parallel cuts running vertically on both of Sam's arms and a small cut on either side of his neck.

I pulled open the drawers on the cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out gauze. It was all that was there. Someone—again, probably Dr. Lauren—had removed every other bit of medical equipment including needles, thread, and morphine.

I worked quickly, wrapping the gauze around Sam's arms and neck. It didn't do much, turning red almost immediately, but it was something. I looked at the rest of Sam. His face was beyond pale. He looked like he was already dead. His right hand was still clenched and I knew that necklace was still tucked away inside. His chest was jumping with his hitched, uneven, sporadic breaths as he fought to stay alive or even just fought to regain consciousness. His eyes were moving violently under his eyelids.

I jumped at the sudden pounding at the door. I grabbed the closest thing I could find to use as a weapon. Somehow I didn't think a little container of salt was going to do me much good.

There was pounding on the door again.

"Jasmine! It's Dean! Open the door!"

"How-how do I know it's you?"

"I threatened to shoot you if you didn't answer me on the phone."

I opened the door, disturbing the salt line at the same time. I looked at the man standing before me. He was tall, too, though probably not as tall as Sam. He was as good looking though, his green eyes bright even as they blazed with fear, anger, and determination. Until they landed on Sam, then the green lit up with adoration and love.

I had a brother myself and I don't think he had ever looked at me the way Dean looked at Sam. He shoved past me.

"Fix that line," was all he said as he carefully examined his brother. I did so and then turned to watch the brothers.

Despite the size difference, it was immediately clear that Dean was the older brother. You could see it in the way he positioned himself, keeping his body a shield to prevent anyone from even looking at Sam. You could see it in the way he touched Sam, gently and carefully and with knowledge that came from having looked after someone for a long time. You could see it in the way he looked at Sam, as though Sam was so precious and no one but Dean could or would ever understand it.

"Sam," he whispered. "What did they do to you?"

Dean very gently took Sam's head and turned it to the side to examine the other burn. He gazed at Sam's face, brushing the damp bangs back from his eyes. He moved on, pulling the hasty bandages aside to look at the cuts that hadn't stopped bleeding. He pulled the bandages off completely and pulled a small box out of the pocket on his jacket.

I leaned forward to catch a glimpse and realized it was a small first aid kit. I watched him pull out a condensed suture kit and ready a needle and thread efficiently, almost professionally. He pulled out a little bottle of peroxide and poured it on the cuts.

Sam groaned, clearly more aware than he should be for the amount of blood he had lost and the strong sedative still in his system.

"Sorry," Dean said quietly. "It's alright, Sammy. Just a little more."

He finished with the peroxide and then pulled out a tube of numbing ointment. He rubbed it around the first cut on Sam's neck and got ready to start stitching.

"Nnh."

"Sam?" Dean said, halting in his actions. He put his palm on Sam's cheek. "Sammy, you here?"

"Nnh."

"Come on, Sammy, open your eyes. I know you're tired," Dean said, moving his hand up to slide into Sam's hair. "Come on, Sam. Look at me, let me see you're here."

I couldn't believe it. It shouldn't have been possible. But Sam's eyes opened—a tiny sliver but they still opened—and focused right on Dean. Even through that slit I saw the recognition, the relief, the love. I saw the relief, the happiness, the love in Dean's answering smile.

"There you are," Dean said so quietly it made me feel I was intruding on the most private moment in existence. I felt my heart break when tears began to flow from Sam's eyes. "Hey, you're alright, you're okay. I'm here, you're okay." He continued to whisper to his brother as he put the needle and thread aside for a moment and used the hand not in Sam's hair to wipe away the tears and then settle on Sam's cheek.

I made myself turn away. I didn't think this was something I should be witnessing and the only reason I was was because we were trapped in the same room.

"Just going to stitch you up a bit, okay? Then we can get out of here," Dean said and picked up the needle again. He gently pushed Sam's head to the side so he had access to the cut and began to stitch.

He talked to Sam the entire time. He brought up what I assumed were memories, talked about girls, someone named 'Bobby' and someone else named 'Cas', and made comments that sounded rude but were clearly jokes between the two.

"Tell me about this doctor," Dean said and I was startled to realize he was actually talking to me this time.

"Oh, uh, it's Mona Lauren. She's the main doctor here, specializes in psychological disorders. Usually she's not around unless someone is dying or has a disorder. I assumed that was why she was seeing John—I mean, Sam. She said he was schizophrenic, that he had been found wandering the street covered in blood and mumbling about 'Lucifer' and hallucinating. I didn't really think much of it. I mean, he fought the restraints a lot but that's not surprising. Most people struggle against being restrained."

I watched Dean immediately work at the restraints on his brother's wrists and ankles, rubbing each to return feeling to the limbs and to give comfort to his agitated but still sedated brother.

"You said they treated him for schizophrenia?"

I nodded. "Electroshock therapy. Not exactly the first choice for treating schizophrenia but it is still used sometimes. She did too much though. As you can see, it burned his temples because it was done so much and for so long. He bled from his ears and his nose. He didn't stop twitching for hours even with the sedation. I'm surprised it didn't damage his brain."

Dean ran a hand down Sam's cheek again. "They know how to do the most damage without causing anything permanent."

I frowned. "What?"

"What about the eyes?" Dean said, ignoring my curiosity.

"It-it might've been the light but I could swear, last night, Dr. Lauren's eyes were completely and totally black."

Dean sighed and I saw he was about to speak when the lights flickered, just like last night. He stood, putting a hand on Sam's head when Sam stirred restlessly, and put his other hand inside his jacket. I frowned and then gasped and stumbled back when he pulled out a gun.

His eyes flicked over to me. "Calm down. Stay away from the door."

"Dean Winchester. I was wondering how long it would take you to show up."

I looked at the door in surprise when Dr. Lauren's voice drifted through. The door shook but didn't open.

"What exactly was the point of all this?" Dean said, still gripping the gun, still touching his brother.

"Just because I could," Dr. Lauren said and the door shook harder. "I wanted to see just how well little Sammy is dealing with his new buddy, Lucifer."

I saw Sam jerk. I saw Dean's face tighten. I saw the door shake so violently it nearly broke off its hinges. I jumped when Dr. Lauren's face appeared in that tiny window, her eyes solid black.

"Hello, Dean," she said with a really frightening grin. "You can't stay in there forever, Dean, not with Sam in that condition. There's only so much you can do with that tiny little first aid kit."

I looked back at Dean who gazed down at Sam. Sam's eyes were still open a crack and he was looking up at Dean. That was when both Dean and I realized Sam was trying to move his right hand. Dean looked down and opened Sam's curled fingers. I saw Dean freeze as he saw the necklace Sam had been holding onto all this time. I knew from Dean's reaction that there was more to that necklace than just that it was once Dean's. There was some other significance attached to it.

Dean curled Sam's fingers back around the amulet and met his brother's eyes with a small smile. "You hang onto that, Sammy. We'll discuss it when we get out of here and you're better. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathed out and I was amazed he was capable of speech.

"Good," Dean said quietly and then turned back to the door.

My eyes widened. Dr. Lauren was gone. I looked at Dean in panic.

"Stay with Sam," he said and walked up to the door. He unlocked it and opened it just enough to poke his head out. He pulled back in and looked at me again. "Don't leave this room. Do not leave Sam no matter what you hear. Got it?"

I really wanted to say no because then maybe he would stay. "Yes, I got it," I said instead. He nodded and left the room. I immediately locked it behind him.

I leaned against the door and looked at Sam. The pain in my chest increased when I saw the tears leaking out of Sam's eyes and overrode the pain in my head. I bit my lip and slowly approached the bed. I reached out to touch his hand but pulled back, sure the contact would not be welcomed.

"Um, Sam?"

His eyes slid over to me away from the door.

"I-I don't know what's going on but-but I'm sure Dean—"

I was cut off by a gunshot. Well, not just one. Seven shots rang out and I covered my head instinctually when the little window on the door shattered. The lights went insane, affected by something. Sam whimpered and tried to move, his body not cooperating with the drugs in his system. I turned around in panic when I heard the door open and I noticed the salt line was broken.

Whatever it was that had taken over Dr. Lauren clearly couldn't get in when that line was intact. Now, however, the shattered window had disturbed the salt and broken the line.

I stood by the bed in front of Sam as though I could protect him when I knew I probably had a worse chance of fighting than Sam. Another gunshot rang out but it didn't appear to do anything. The door swung open and Dr. Lauren with her black eyes walked in, looking smug. I stood tall but it did nothing as Dr. Lauren waved her hand and I was thrown across the room and pinned by an invisible force to the wall. I struggled to breathe as that invisible force pushed steadily harder on my chest.

"Hello again, Sammy," she said, walking up to Sam's bed. She reached out and dragged fingertips down his cheek even as he attempted to jerk away. "Are we alone? Or are we hosting Lucifer's company?"

I saw Sam's eyes flick to another part of the room and then back to Dr. Lauren. Whoever this Lucifer was, he was apparently present in Sam's mind. Maybe he was schizophrenic if he was seeing people that weren't there.

"He is here, isn't he?" Dr. Lauren grinned in satisfaction. "What fun it must be to have him around, in your head day after day after day..."

"Hey!"

My eyes shot to the door at the shout and Dr. Lauren turned.

"Get away from my brother!" Dean said and there was another shot. Dr. Lauren jerked, her eyes wide, and then she collapsed to the floor, unmoving.

The invisible force disappeared and I fell to the floor at the unexpected freedom. Dean lowered his gun and rushed to Sam. I watched him whisper to his brother, brush back Sam's hair, stroke his cheek, smile at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked me and I nodded, my eyes now locked on the dead Dr. Lauren. What in the hell had just happened? Why was the main doctor of our hospital now lying dead just feet from me?

"What-what—" I had no idea how to finish.

"I'll give you the shortened version, none of which you will believe," Dean said. He turned to face me while keeping a hand on Sam's chest. He jerked his head at Dr. Lauren. "She was possessed by a Demon. Demons exist. Angels exist. Monsters exist. We hunt them. Sam is not schizophrenic. He is suffering the effects from having a mental wall be broken inside his mind that had been protecting him from his memories of his stay in Hell. This Demon wanted to slowly drive Sam insane or kill him, whichever came first. It just wanted to have fun."

I blinked at him. He was right. I didn't believe it but I also felt I had no choice. After all, was there anything else that could possibly explain what had just happened?

"I don't know if there are anymore. For now it was just this one and I'm taking what I can. I have to get Sam out of here," Dean continued.

I swallowed thickly. "Can-can I help?"

"Sure. Help me get him out to my car," Dean said and I hurried over. He was already pulling Sam up and I helpfully grasped Sam's left arm. Together we got Sam to the edge of the bed and then on his feet, both of us under his arms to support him.

It was a slow journey from Room 4 to the car that was sitting nearly in the ER doors. Sam shuffled between us, hardly able to help at all. His size and the drugs that made him almost a dead weight made it exceedingly difficult for even the two of us to hold him and carry him. We managed it though. We eventually got to the black car. Dean was first trying to get Sam in the backseat but Sam was apparently aware enough to protest. So we manoeuvred him into the passenger's seat.

"Where will you go? He needs a hospital, a proper doctor," I said.

"We'll manage. In our line of work, we've learned to get by without hospitals and doctors unless absolutely necessary," Dean said, dropping a hand on Sam's shoulder when his brother shifted.

"I've never seen such a relationship between brothers," I said before I could stop myself. He gave me a strange look. "I have an older brother. The last time we stayed in the same room for more than twenty minutes was when I was two and he was three and we still took baths together. Sam was here for three days and basically tortured and oblivious to everything yet it was still your name he managed to say when it was supposed to be impossible for him to be even awake. It's your necklace he's been holding onto so tight it reopened the cut on his hand. My brother still acts like touching anything I own will give him the Plague."

Dean glanced at Sam and then back at me. "For most of our lives it's always just been the two of us. No disrespect to our father but I practically raised this kid. If anyone were to ever ask, he's mine. We've been through a lot, way more than you could ever believe or understand. We've had our issues, massive issues, as in blame the other for ending the world issues. We're just getting back to the way we used to be somewhat. We are all the other has."

I considered the both of them. "Well, whatever it is, take care of him, each other. It's nice to see that not all siblings have an aversion to each other."

Dean nodded and closed the passenger's door. "Take care of yourself."

I stepped back and watched Dean slide into the driver's seat. I watched Dean brush Sam's hair once more before Sam was lowered and I assumed laid out on seat. I watched the car start up and pull away. When it was out of sight I became painfully aware of all my...pain.