A/N: And then there were three. Three chapters left that is. Thanks for all of the support. I hope you enjoy what's left of the fic.

Also please see previous chapters for other notes.

Chapter 10

Dean couldn't believe what was happening. Sam lay limp and motionless against the padded white floor. His chest wasn't moving. "No! Sam, come on. Don't quit on me now."

Dean raced over to the door and hit the buzzer. He heard the door click and hit it with his shoulder, tumbling out into the hallway. "I need some help! He's not breathing!" Dean screamed at the top of the lungs. Holding the door open with one hand Dean leaned farther out into the hallway. He could see Brian pounding across the floor and then he slid to a stop in front of Dean.

Brian took one look at Dean's face, peaked around him to see Sam lying on the floor, and knew they had a problem. "Nat! Call a Code Blue, stat! Grab the ambu kit and get your ass down here." Brian pushed past Dean and entered the padded cell.

Dean sagged with relief. He wasn't sure what was going on at the so-called Mercy Sleep Clinic but at least Brian wasn't in on it. He needed his help to save Sam.

Dean toed off a shoe and stuck it in the door. He didn't want to be at the mercy of someone else if he needed to get Sam out of there quickly. He stumbled over to where Brian knelt next to Sam. Sam's head was tilted back and Brian was gently blowing air into his mouth while pinching his nostrils shut.

"Joe, get over here. Check him for a pulse!"

Dean paused for a moment and then realized Brian was talking to him. He tried to shake off the shock. Sam needed him.

Dean knelt next to Brian and took Sam's left wrist in his hands. There. Was that a pulse? It was slow but it was there. Dean raised his head to the heavens and said a silent thank you. "He's got a pulse." Dean frowned as finished timing the beats on his watch. "40 beats per minute," he announced to Brian. Dean knew that was too slow.

Brian's face paled. "Where's fucking Natalie? Where's the code team?!" Brian sounded frantic.

Footsteps rapidly sounded down the hallway. Natalie appeared with a kit in her hands. "The code team is on the way. Here's the ambu kit. What do you need me to do?" Natalie was trying to catch her breath. During her time here she'd never experienced such an emergency.

"Inadequate ventilation," Brian said between puffing air into Sam. "Let's get the mask on him."

Dean was trying to get his own hammering heartbeat under control as he watched Brian and Natalie work on Sam.

Natalie tore open the package and handed Brian a mask. Brian tilted Sam's head forward a little and placed the mask over his mouth and nose with his right hand. Brian placed his left hand under Sam's jaw and lifted up. He began to compress the bag with his right hand.

Sam's chest began to rise in conjunction with each compression of the bag. Dean was so relieved he wanted to collapse on the floor. Sam was getting oxygen again.

"He doesn't look good. What's the pulse ox reading?" Brian, however, was still worried.

"He's at 88 and dropping." Natalie also looked very concerned, her forehead crinkled in concentration.

"Here, Joe, take over for me. I'm going to see what's taking the code team so long."

Brian grabbed Dean's right hand and placed it on the bag, squeezing twice to make sure "Joe" had the rhythm down. He then placed Dean's left hand under Sam's mandible so that the mask was tightly sealed to his face and his head was tiled for an open airway.

Everything faded into the background as he concentrated on giving Sam the lifesaving oxygen he needed. Dean had always felt responsible for Sam. Hell, to be honest, he'd been the one to raise Sam. But the last time Dean felt this responsible for Sam was when his dad had thrust the baby into his arms and told him to leave the house. The night he had carried Sam out of their burning house.

Dean focused on the bag. With each squeeze he could see Sam's chest move up and then down.

Suddenly a cart and four people spilled into the cell. Brian tumbled in after them and moved behind Dean. "Come on Joe, they'll take over now."

Dean silently remained on the floor kneeling next to Sam. He didn't want to relinquish his task. At least this way he was doing something to keep Sam alive.

Brian grabbed one arm as Natalie took the other, drawing Dean with them.

One of the newly arrived staff took over the mask. Someone else began snapping orders. "I don't think we can wait. We need to intubate him now."

Dean didn't like the look that Brian and Natalie nervously exchanged. "What are you waiting for? He's turning blue!" Dean cried out. He didn't know what was going on but even he could see Sam was in trouble. Dean stepped forward, ready to do something, anything when one of the team finally spoke up.

Dean clearly heard him say, "Salt."

Dean didn't know what was going on but in a moment he was going to start cracking skulls open. Someone needed to help Sam now. Why were they yammering on about salt?

"S for suction," someone in the room said. Dean's view was partially obscured by the code team but he could hear a suctioning sound.

"A for airway," someone else said. Dean saw one of the team, the guy who seemed to be in charge, use something to lift Sam's tongue out of the way. If this was happening to someone other than Sam he would be fascinated by the events unfolding before him. Right now he was scared spitless.

"Laryngoscope," the guy in charge said. He was the one performing the actual procedure. Dean saw a lighted instrument placed down Sam's throat.

"This is the hard part," Brian murmured. Dean flinched. What could possibly be harder than what Sam had already endured?

"Tube," a code team member said slapping a tube into the charge person's hand. Dean saw the guy move Sam's tongue to the side and slide the tube down his throat.

"Damn, I think I nicked his vocal cords." Dean didn't know what they meant but it sounded bad. He was worried because Sam's chest hadn't moved again in while. His face was a dusky blue. Dean was barely breathing himself, solely focused on Sam, watching for signs of life

"Connect the bag and begin ventilations by hand." The guy in charge placed a stethoscope over Sam's stomach and listened. "Placement sounds good. We need an x-ray to make sure. And a CAT scan. What the hell happened to this guy?"

The code team lifted Sam onto a gurney that had materialized out of nowhere. "Let's move people. He's not out of the woods yet."

Dean began to follow the group. Stumbling slightly he looked down and saw his discarded shoe. He didn't lose a beat as he scooped it up and followed Sam. He didn't want Sam out of his sight.

"That was one helluva first shift for you. I can't believe that just happened," Brian said to his co-worker 'Joe' as Dean tried to brush by him.

"Hey, Joe, where are you going?" Brian asked Dean as he grabbed his arm.

Dean shook Brian off. "I'm going with my brother," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Dean continued to follow Sam leaving a stunned Brian in his wake.

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Dean found himself hustling after Sam and his entourage. The elevator closed before he could get there so he sprinted down the stairwell. Since they'd spent some time in the ER Dean knew where to go. He burst into the ER and the girl at the front desk buzzed him into the back by the cubicles. Dean had forgotten he was wearing scrubs.

Dean glanced around looking for his brother. Suddenly the gurney bearing Sam slammed through the double doors at the other end of the ER and was guided into an empty cubicle. Dean ran to the door, mind focused on getting to his brother. But his progress was thwarted.

"Excuse, you can't go in there," a young, pretty nurse said in a bored voice.

"He's my brother, I need to see him," Dean replied, trying to push past her.

The nurse wasn't budging from her post at the door and crossed her arms before responding, "Oh, in that case we need to have you sign some consents and get some information from you."

Dean tried to look around her but all he could see were Sam's feet. Dean jerked a hand impatiently through his touseled hair. "Listen, I'm not signing anything until you tell me what's going on. What are they doing in there?" Dean wasn't sure how much he could trust these people and he felt anxious being separated from Sam. He'd left him alone once and look what had happened – beaten, thrown into a straight jacket – he wouldn't do it again. How could he protect him if he couldn't see him?

"They're hooking your brother up to a mechanical ventilation device." She turned her head and glanced into the cubicle. "They just took a portable chest x-ray and it looks like the intubation tube was placed correctly. Once he's stable they'll be running more tests and then you'll be allowed to sit with him." The nurse still wasn't giving an inch.

Dean's patience had hit its limit. He exploded, "Listen," Dean paused as he read the nametag on the nurse's scrub top, "Sheila, I'm not leaving my brother. I left him at the Sleep Clinic and now look at him!" Dean saw several heads turn and look at him. He needed to get a grip or else they'd throw him out. He couldn't watch over Sam if they threw him out of the hospital. He took a deep breath.

"Okay, so your brother was being seen at the outpatient sleep clinic. Did something happen to him in the parking lot?" Sheila realized that Dean was upset and tried to hang on to her own patience.

"What do you mean outpatient? Dr. Osmond admitted Sam to the sleep clinic yesterday." Dean watched Sheila purse her lips in thought.

"Look," Sheila paused as she saw the nametag on Dean's chest, "Joe. We just brought your brother over from the inpatient psychiatric unit. Now I don't know what's going on here but by the looks of things your brother is in very serious condition and I need you to start being straight with me."

Straight, as in straightjacket. Dean felt as though he had been gut punched. Inpatient psych unit? Sam didn't belong in a psych unit. What the hell was this chick talking about?

And then it started to dawn on him. Someone had set them up. But who?

Tremendous guilt crashed down on Dean. He had admitted his brother, albeit unknowingly, into a psych ward. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and all that. Dean knew one of Sam's secret fears was being locked up and accused of being crazy. And what had Dean done? Practically had Sam committed.

"Listen, my brother was admitted yesterday by Dr. Osmond for a sleep study. He told me I couldn't see my brother for seventy-two hours. I managed to get in to see him tonight and found him in a straight jacket, in a padded cell, with the crap beat out of him. Now you tell me what's going on." Dean folded his arms over his chest. He didn't like this. Not one little bit.

"Joe, please sign the consent forms so we can treat your brother. I don't know what happened but we'll have to figure it out later." Sheila handed Dean a clipboard and waited expectantly.

Dean took it suspiciously. This time Dean thoroughly read everything before signing it.

"Here," Dean thrust the clipboard into Sheila's hands, "I'm going to go in and see my brother now." This time Dean managed to brush by Sheila only to run into the guy who had been in charge of the code team.

"Who are you? Only family is allowed back here." Dean was once again blocked from Sam.

"I'm his brother. I need to see him. Is he okay?" Dean stepped around the guy and stopped in his tracks when he saw Sam.

Sam's face was mottled with deep bruises. A tube was taped to his mouth and Dean could hear the swish of the ventilator. Dean moved closer to the gurney so he could catalog Sam's injuries. Split swollen lip, barely visible around the tube. Left black eye. White gauze taped to the left temple. Bruises up and down both arms as well as the neck. The right hand and arm were heavily bandaged.

Despite the injuries, Dean had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. Sam was a complete mess but he was alive.

Now that the doctor knew Dean was family he mellowed a bit. "I'm Dr. Larsen. I'm a trauma doctor on staff. We're going to take him for a CAT scan and then take him up to the intensive care unit. We're very concerned about his head injury."

"What about the ventilator? How long will he have to be on it?" Dean had so many questions he didn't know where to start.

"He's not able to breathe on his own right now and we don't know if the head injury has something to do with that or if there are some internal injuries. It also looks like he has an infection on his surgical site." Dr. Larsen looked to Dean as if for an explanation.

"Sam was in a bad car accident a while ago. He had internal injuries and his right kidney isn't functioning right now. He also had an infection that started in his arm." Dean wiped a hand shakily across his forehead. He didn't want to tear his eyes away from Sam yet it hurt to look at him.

"We'll need to get those records," Dr. Larsen said as he, too, turned to look at Sam. "We think he has a broken wrist and it looks like his IV was torn out of the back of his hand. That did some damage but it should heal." Dr. Larsen shook his head, not believing that the young man before him was still alive. "We're doing everything we can for him. It looks like we're ready to move him."

Dean took Sam's left hand in his own. "Is it okay if I stay with him?" He didn't want to leave Sam's side.

"Sure. Come on." Dr. Larsen himself helped guide Sam's gurney out the door and down the hallway.

"By the way, nice job with the mask. You probably saved your brother's life," Dr. Larsen said.

Dean sure hoped so. He'd already lost his father. He wasn't about to lose Sam.