Disclaimer: Would I be writing FANFICTION if I owned them....?

Wow! I certainly didn't expect quite a response! I guess I'm continuing...

This story actually isn't planned out that well (it was something I came up with on a whim), so I hope the story does start to get boring after a while...

Enjoy chapter two!


"What?" Sam whispered disbelievingly.

"We think that when you were young, you created an older brother named 'Dean,' to comfort you while your father abused you. To you, this 'Dean' was a mother-figure, father-figure, and friend. All of which you were lacking while growing up."

"I don't believe this..."

Dr. Ackles looked at Sam for a few moments. "I expect that your memory will start to return, now that you're no longer comatose and hysteric. I just hope this time we'll be able to help you cope better." He got up and left, leaving Sam in a slight state of shock.

What the hell is this...!? Sam got up and started to pace, thinking of all the possibilities of the situation. Unfortunately the only situation that Sam could think of that he could do anything was if this was some sort of nightmare, supernatural-induced or not. He could then try to kill himself. Unfortunately, it might not be some sort of nightmare, in which case killing himself would be stupid. Unfortunately, any other possibility means that Sam just has to sit back and wait for Dean to somehow figure this out.

Sam sat back down and closed his eyes. The gravity of the situation catching up to him, Sam quickly feel to sleep.

---

Sam's wrists were on fire. The metal of the handcuffs were cutting in so deeply, thin lines of blood were trailing down his arms and torso. The cuffs were nailed high on the wall, so he was forced to stand unless he wanted the entire weight of his body on his wrists against the torturous metal. His feet were burning and his legs were going numb. His father turned off the heater so not to have a large heating bill, so the room was freezing. With only a pair of tattered jeans on, he was trembling violently. At some point he wet himself, the liquid quickly cooling off and making Sam all the more colder. The cuffs jiggled against the sensitive cuts, breaking them back open and allowing more blood to fall. Always the pain, the cuffs, and the blood.

How long had his father been gone now? Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? An hour? Two hours? Sam had no idea. When his father left, he made sure Sam was secure in the cuffs on the wall. He had to make sure Sam wouldn't get into trouble while he was gone.

God, it hurt so much...

The door open and his father stumbled in. His face was sagged and his eyes were watery and unfocused. He was obviously drunk.

"St-till sssstandin' braaat...?" John slurred out. He squinted at his son, sizing him up. "'Pressive...." he mumbled. Sam's breathing quickened when he realized his father was frustrated. Apparently, Sam wasn't supposed to have been able to stay standing. John walked up and kicked Sam's legs out from under him. Sam screamed as his wrists slammed against the cuffs, fresh blood squirting out, staining the metal dark red and dripping onto the floor. Vomit spurt from Sam's mouth as the intense pain increased tenfold. Unfortunately, it landed on his father.

"Ugh! Fff'thy li'l bassstard!" He slammed a knee into Sam's stomach. Sam let out a pained grunt as the pressure increased on his wrists. As much as Sam tried not to cry, tears started to roll down his face. John usually hated it when Sam cried. It made him so much angrier. But now he didn't notice as he dug into his pockets for the key to the cuffs. After he finally found them, it took six tries until the key finally made it into the hole and the let Sam's left wrist free. Seven tries for his right. Sam fell limply to the ground, curling up into a small ball, quietly sobbing.

"Paaathhhh-etic...." John stumbled to the bed and fell on it, unconscious.

Sam remained motionless on the floor, afraid of what might happen if he were to move and his father saw him.

"Dean..." he whimpered out. "M-monst-ter's gonna get me..." He stared into space tears falling down the side of his face onto the floor.. "'You pr-romise...?" Another moment before he nodded. "Okay... 'night, Dean"

---

Sam woke with a start, sweat gluing his hair to his head, panting heavily as if he was running. His body trembling hard.

It was so vivid! Sam could feel every pain, emotion, and thought. It felt as though it actually happened. As if it was memory of his...

Sam shook his head. No. This was just a figment of some demon or... something's imagination! Playing some sick game with him.

But that didn't calm down his body. It was still trembling, sweat still soaking him, and his breathing was still hard and wheezy. He felt jumpy and scared. It bewildered him. No matter how many times he told himself that it was all just a nightmare, just a part of some damned illusion, he found he was doubting himself.

Feeling more claustrophobic than ever, Sam pulled hard on the sleeves of the straitjacket, not quite believing that they haven't even loosened. Sam squirmed and pulled, squirmed and pulled, but the buckles held steady. Irrational fear starting to take hold, he slammed his body against he padded wall in some hope of making the restraints loosen.

"Samuel Winchester!" an intercom boomed. "Calm down or we'll have to give you a sedative!"

Sam stopped. He was leaning forward, his head almost reaching the ground as he panted hard, trying to catch his breath and calm his nerves down. The jacket felt impossibly tighter, constricting his lungs and squeezing his arms tighter around him.

As soon as he caught his breath, Dr. Ackles walked in. He was accompanied by what looked like a security guard. Sam could see a gun, handcuffs, a baton and tazer in his holster. Sam's stomach involunarily flipped at the sight of the cuffs.

"It's time for me to give you your meds, Sam," Dr. Ackles said, waving a loaded syringe in the air.

"Hell, no!" Sam said indigently. "You ain't getting anywhere near me with that thing!"

"I'm sorry, Sam. But it's for your own health. If you don't cooperate, Alex here will have to restrain you."

Sam looked back at the guard, Alex, who had a slight smirk on his face. "I don't care what you do. You ain't gunna stick that needle in me!"

Dr. Ackles sighed. "As happy as I am you're much, much less submissive, it's is a bit more troublesome than when you were just hysteric. Alex."

Faster than Sam thought possible, Alex had his arms around Sam's chest and his knees pinning Sam's legs down. "No!" Sam yelled. He bucked and launched his head back, smiling at the crunching sound when his head made contact with Alex's nose. Alex's grip loosened and Sam was able to get free. But he didn't get more than two feet when a surge of electricity crippled him. Sam fell to the ground, stunned. Another shock ripped through him, momentarily sending his legs flailing and his body twitching. He lay limply on the ground looking up at the bright ceiling, trying to regain his senses. When Dr. Ackles came into view, Sam weakly shook his head. "No... Don' need..." The doctor stuck the needle into Sam's neck, slowly pushing the plunger in. All at once, the room blurred and the noise around him sounded garbled.

"He's more dangerous now." Sam recognized the voice of the doctor. "We're gonna have to move him to a more secure unit, for his and the staff's safety."

Sam couldn't hear anymore after that. Everything was garbled. Nothing made sense. And for a while, he lost himself.


FEED THE DRAGON! ALL REVIEWS ARE HELPFUL AND MUCH APPRECIATED!!!!