Hello, My name is Sam…

"And I'm an alcoholic." He said. It wasn't too much of a stretch really. All he could think about was his next drink. Never mind that it wasn't something that any one had ever fermented in a barrel. He had all the hallmarks of a functioning alcoholic after all. And it didn't hurt that some of his gear really did smell like stale booze. He didn't have to worry about being found by angels or demons (not that he cared much if they did find him) so checking into rehab at this point wasn't as dangerous as it could be.

"this isn't an AA meeting, Sam, but thank you for your honesty. " The councilor over seeing the group session told him.

Sam blushed deeply "Oh" he said his massive shoulders seemed to shrink in on themselves "Sorry"

"You have nothing to be sorry for, why don't you start by telling us what brought you here to us. Usually there is a …Genesis … for this kind of thing. No one spontaneously decides to give up an addiction. "

Sam shifted uncomfortably "I lost my family. People were hurt, and my family doesn't trust me any more… I don't trust me any more."

The woman nodded "okay. So this is genuinely your decision to be here. "

"Yeah. " Sam answered and nodded. "it's where I have to be right now." Dean hadn't even paused for more than a second before sending him off. No hug, no request for a phone call… Dean was done with him. That had been more devastating than the 'I don't trust you' conversation. That he had just … seemed relieved. He knew his brother loved him. He had offered him the car after all.

Either that or Dean was planning to die and didn't want his precious baby with strangers.

Oh there was a thought. One that set his heart racing, made his chest feel tight. In that split second he wanted out of there to go chase his brother down. Because in that moment it made more sense that Dean was taking care of the impala, than it did that he was telling Sam he loved him.

"Its gonna be okay, Sam." The councilor said gently. It wasn't hard to see that the young man was having a panic attack "We aren't here to judge you. We are here to help you learn how to get through this, and move on."

Sam nodded and fell silent. He had to pull himself together and get through this, learn how to deal with the addiction, before he could go and find his brother again. There was no other way it would be safe.

He listened to other people talk about their addictions, crack, weed, pain killers, others who really were alcoholics. He didn't contribute much to the conversation. How could he relate his own situations to these people, who had just gotten over whelmed and needed to escape. He had wanted power. He had wanted control over things that were so far out of his control that he couldn't see straight any more. They had made mistakes…he had done terrible things. It wasn't the same.

He headed back to his room after the session and closed the door. He couldn't lay down salt lines, or draw symbols on the floor or walls. He knew if he did they would transport him from the rehab center to the mental health facility on the other end of the campus. So instead he pulled out his book and started reading, anything to keep his mind off of what he had done, what he had lost. If he let himself dwell on that he would lose his mind and do something really stupid.

The door to his room opened, and a nurse peeked in. "Sam Hetfield?" She asked, confirming who she was speaking to, and smiled at him warmly when he nodded "Time for your meds"

"Meds?" he asked, getting up and setting his book aside.

"Mmmhmm." She said producing a small paper cup. "The doctor is prescribing an anti-anxiety medication for you. It helps with the symptoms. " she handed him the cup and a bottle of water "Its alright" she added seeing the suddenly worried look in his eyes. "Everyone has them. Anxiety attacks are pretty common around here." She stood there watching him intently until he took the pills and drank the water "good job. I'll be by later with your next dose"

Sam sighed and took up his place on the bed again. His thoughts ran toward Dean, was he safe, was he taking care of himself or just going off doing what the angels wanted now that his useless pain in the ass little brother was gone? Bobby had enough trouble of his own. Maybe he would go to Ellen when he needed help now. He had to think that Dean would get more support from the hunter community now that Sam was gone.

"I can't keep thinking about this" he said and got up off the bed and headed out of his room. He wasn't going anywhere. He just needed to be walking, to be doing something or he would end up going off the roof or something.

"Sam… everything alright?" came a calm soothing voice.

"What ? Oh… yeah… I'm fine. Just… antsy, ya know. Thanks for asking Doctor."

"Oh, call me Nick, please. I believe in a casual atmosphere. There is a gym you know. Doesn't do any good to get the mind together if the body isn't following suit. Come on… let me show you where it is."

"Thanks" Sam said. He figured it couldn't hurt. What else did he have to do? Sit and worry about Dean?

"So are you settling in alright?" Nick asked as he opened the door to the gym.

"yeah… didn't know that drugs were involved with the program. Not sure it's a good idea… in my case anyway"

"Its not drugs, Sam. Its medication. Administered by professionals. Its just

to help you get past the rough patch in the beginning. "

"yeah… well… I'm not sure you would really like it if I lost control … you know… stopped worrying about things and just let go."

"That is exactly what I want, Samuel." He said as he walked over to a punching bag. "Give it a try. I'll spot for you. "

Sam shivered a little, and looked around trying to figure out what it was that was bothering him in that moment. "You probably have a lot of other patients to check on…"

"The other patients get their fair share of my time, don't worry about that. I'm here for you, Sam." He said it with an almost casual firmness. It held none of the anger or desperation that Sam associated with those words. It was merely a statement of fact that held no expectation or demand. There was something relaxing in that tone.

Sam took his position and waited for the psychiatrist to position himself behind the bag, then started to strike the bag, starting out slow, holding back. He knew the amount of damage he could do with his fists. He wasn't exactly looking to make that known.

"When did you first start drinking?" Nick asked. He held the bag firmly in place, never once taking his eyes off of Sam's face.

Sam frowned then, striking the back a little harder "I don't know that it really matters."

"Of course it matters. People don't become addicts because they were having a good time. Most addicts are trying to escape something. Sometimes its nothing more than wanting to escape being bored to death with their banal existence… but they are always trying to escape, or cope with something they cant begin to understand.

"My brother was murdered" He said striking the bag harder still, but Nick didn't budge.

"So you have two brothers then?"

"what?" Sam asked, pausing in his workout. "oh… yeah… I have two brothers. Dean and Adam." It wasn't a lie. Wasn't what the doctor meant but it worked out. "Adam is dead… Dean… isn't." He hoped.

"So your brother was murdered…I can see where that would be hard to take…were you two close?" he asked.

"We were" another truth strangely enough "We used to be inseparable… all of us" He said knowing it would eventually come back to his relationship with Dean. It was a minor lie. One to make it so he could talk freely. He had to be truthful if this was going to work. Yet how could he? He was starting to think all this talking was a bad idea. Maybe this was why Dean had always hated talking about things.

"What was it that made this so hard for you to deal with?"

"thought individual therapy happened in your office, Doc… Nick" he corrected himself at a look from the doctor.

"It happens where ever its needed. "

"Yeah… ahm… you know… I'm gonna go back to my room now… get a nap in before the next session." Sam said, "I'm not used to the meds I think. Kinda tired" He lied. The first one he had told other than his last name. But was that really a lie? Had he ever really been Sam Winchester?

"Sam… if you want to go back to your room, you can. But don't lie to me"

He took a step back at something in the man's eyes; something that made Sam's gut clench in apprehension.

"you look anxious, Sam. I think maybe we will have to up your medication."

"I'm fine. " Sam felt suddenly cornered and very much out of control of the situation.

"if you were fine, you wouldn't be standing here looking like you just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. " Nick said "Its okay to feel, Sam. They aren't right. They aren't wrong. Feelings simply are. Right now you are scared. Scared of going with out … another drink, scared you are never going to feel the way it made you feel again. You are afraid of opening up to anyone because the brother you depended on, the man you thought loved you unconditionally has repeatedly rejected you. You'd have to be less than a man not to have those thoughts. "

Sam shifted a little uncomfortably from foot to foot for a moment "Right… so… I'm gonna go now. " he turned to walk out of the room.

"Sam" Nick said and waited for the young man to face him once more. "Why did you start drinking when your brother died?"

"Because it was my fault." He said and left the room, not looking back. It had started with alcohol. Worked up to demon blood. Even now it was tempting. Calling to him without so much as a demon in sight.

Dean was gone. He had let Sam go so easily that it had almost felt like he had been kicked to the curb. He was doing what he had to do, why shouldn't Sam? Why shouldn't he fill up on demon blood and just start sending the bastards back to hell.

That wasn't logic talking. Sam knew that. He really did. Just as he knew that his fixation on the blood had nothing to do with the good he could do with it. It had to do with the power. When he was tanked up, he had the illusion that he wasn't hells bitch boy. He could take all comers. He felt in control and he liked that feeling.

Here he felt almost as out of control as he had the day Dean had died. But that was reality. Sam had to face that and he knew it. He was out of control. That wasn't going to change… ever. He had lost everything for the illusion of it. It had to stop. Before he lost what was left of himself too.

"Ah, there you are" the nurse said with a smile. "I have your lunch and your next does of medicine. "

"I'm not hungry." He said.

"I'm sorry Mr Hetfield, this isn't a request. You have to follow the program completely if you want to succeed. That includes meals."

Sam sighed and took the small paper cup that contained the pills, and washed it down with the tomato juice from his lunch tray. "can I get some coffee?" he asked as he took the rest of his tray over to the table in his room.

"I'll have an aid bring that in for you" she told him her smile returning.

"Thanks" He said. He pushed the food aside and picked up the phone. He was allowed 10 minutes of phone time a day. He had tried to call Dean to let him know where he was, but had gotten voice mail and a lot of static. He doubted the call had gone through. He would try his brother later.

He dialed Bobby's hospital room and smiled hearing the mans gruff voice over the phone. "Hey… you ahm… you doing … okay?" He asked.

"No, but I'm not any worse either. Where you at, Boy?" Bobby sounded concerned. Sam figured he had talked to Dean and heard that they had split ways.

"rehab" He answered honestly. "told them I have a drinking problem."

Bobby snorted. "Well that's one way to put it. It doin' ya any good?"

"Hard to tell. Haven't been here long. You heard from… Ahm… Ellen and Jo?" he amended. "They had a pretty rough time of it."

"They're alright. Worried about you two idjits. You're brother's still kicking if that was what you were gonna ask ."

"good" Sam said. "you know… just … checking. Checking in" he corrected himself "When do you think you'll be going home?"

"About as soon as I can sneak pass Nursezilla. " Bobby said "This damned Chair is about as quiet as a steam engine. " there was a pause "Are you sure you're alright, Sam? Neither one of you boys is worth a damn on your own. You know that."

"We're not on our own… We've got you. " Sam said choking back the emotions again. He picked up the tomato juice and finished it. Damn it tasted good. "Not sure how this is gonna work with out being able to … you know… give all the details… but I'm gonna stick it out." He paused a moment "So should you."

"since when did you start dispensing sage advice." Bobby said sharply, not intending to take it out on Sam but damn it he had his own issues at the moment and couldn't be expected to keep them in all the time.

"yeah… you're right… but… think about it anyway. Even a broken clock is right twice a day." Sam said and sighed. "Look I gotta go, another session. Not sure what group hugs are gonna do for me but they say I have to go. I'll call later this week." He hung up before the emotion could show in his voice. He'd give anything to make it right for Bobby, but he couldn't. He knew that. No deals, no special powers nothing. Even Castiel couldn't fix it and the others wouldn't because Dean wouldn't become Michaels vessel.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair again. And that was all his fault. His own damned fault. "Should have never fucking been born" he muttered and tossed the plate of food at the nearest wall.

"you know… other people do have to clean that up" the aid said as she came in with his coffee. She sighed as she set his coffee on the table and went into the bath room to get a towel to clean things up with.

"Sorry" He said with a sigh of his own "Look… I can clean that up. Really. I didn't mean to make a mess for you."

"Sit down and drink your coffee. " she said with a smile "Its not your job. you aren't the first to object to the Caesar salad here. It really does suck rocks… but do me a favor… don't throw it at the wall next time. Makes my job harder and believe me they don't pay me enough for this job to get harder."

"Sorry" he said again with a weak smile

"And you can start by getting rid of that word. No more Sorry's. Not around here. " She said as she gathered up the tray and the remains of the dishes "Boss doesn't like it."

"the Boss? You mean Nick? Ahm.. the doctor? He's the boss around here?"

"Oh yeah. Nick is the boss. But hey, he seems to have taken an interest in your case. That cant go badly for you. Do yourself a favor and let him help you. He's good at what he does. "

"And what is that?" Sam asked.

"Helping people find their place in the world. "

Things were sounding weirder by the minute as far as Sam was concerned but he didn't really care. He figured it was the pills. Anti anxiety meds could mess with you if you didn't need them. But there was no convincing Nick he didn't need them. It was part of the program. And Sam needed the program. Of that he had do doubt.

SPN…

"Hey, Bobby! Whats going on ?" Dean asked when he answered his phone. He had missed a call early but hadn't been able to make out who had been on the line when he had listened to the message.

"You're brother called." Bobby said.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, his tone tight. He didn't want to talk about Sam. Didn't want to know that the kid was in trouble and he had let him walk right into it. Didn't want to hear Bobby call him an idiot for going at this alone.

"just thought you might like to know, he's alright. Got himself into rehab."

"they have a rehab for that ?" Dean asked dubiously.

"He says he told them he has a drinking problem."

Dean actually laughed even though there was no laughter to his voice.

"He asked about you."

"Yeah… what ever"

"Dean-" Bobby sighed.

"what do you want me to say, Bobby? You think I like this any more than you do? Its what we have to do and Its not going to do any good for me to get all emotional about it."

"Just cover your ass. No ones got your back right now."

No one had it before, Dean thought and sighed "Don't worry about that." He said and ended the phone call. "I got it covered."