Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to Kripke and the CW.
I have very little medical knowledge. Please excuse any mistakes in treatments or medical terminology. I am not a therapist. Don't even know one. Everything I could find about Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome said to get medical treatment and stopped there. So I'm just making it up as I go.
Previously on Supernatural- The sun was beginning to come up when John finally drifted to sleep his hand still clutching Sammy's. And that's just how Bobby found them the next morning.
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Bobby quietly slid into the room and walked over to the bed. He stood watching the youngest Winchester sleep for a few minutes. Leaning down he gently swept the hair out of Sammy's eyes and kissed the little boy's forehead before taking a seat in the chair by the couch. Bobby glanced over at John who was still sleeping and then turned to the couch to find Dean watching him intently. "Morning, Dean" he whispered.
"Hey, Bobby. What are you doing here?" Dean asked as he sat up and stretched.
"Your daddy called me. Said something had happened to Sammy and that I needed to get here fast." Bobby explained. "What's going on, Dean? What happened to your brother?"
John woke to the sound of hushed voices. He stayed perfectly still and listened to gauge the threat if any to his boys. Recognizing his old friend's voice John opened his eyes and spoke up. "Morning, Bobby. How'd you get here so fast?"
Bobby couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. "Well, see there's this new fangled invention out called an aero plane. It has a huge belly and wings and a tail and it flies just like a little birdie."
"Good one, Bobby" Dean got out between chuckles. He quickly stopped laughing and focused on the floor as both men's attention was drawn to him. Squirming in his seat Dean struggled for a way to divert their attention. Finally formulating a plan he whispered, "Umm, I'm just gonna go to the, uh, bathroom now" before racing into the bathroom and out of sight.
"Sorry Bobby. It's been a long couple of days." John apologized gazing at Sammy's still form.
"What happened Johnny?" Bobby asked. "You weren't making much sense on the phone."
John stood and walked over to the window. He kept his eyes locked on the view and began. "It started two days ago at supper. Sammy and I had an argument when I told the boys we were leaving Saturday. We both said some things we shouldn't have. He got so upset he ran away. Dean and I searched for him all night and couldn't find him. We even called the police but they didn't have any luck. Then yesterday we get a call for one of his friends' housekeepers saying that he's at their house and to hurry. By the time we got to the house the police were already there."
Bobby waited quietly for John to continue. He knew better than to try to push John into talking.
Stepping back over to the bed John sat on the edge taking Sammy's hand once more. "Sammy's friend's mother and older sister were murdered and they think Sammy saw it happen."
"Oh God!" Bobby blurted out. He took a few moments to wrap his head around the idea that little Sammy had seen something so violent. Once he'd regained his composure he asked, "Has Sammy said anything?"
John shook his head. "Not about that. He woke up a couple of times and he. . .he. . .he called me dada! The doctor says Sammy's suffered some kind of emotional trauma. Wants him to see a shrink. I told him no. That we'd handle it as a family. But I don't know what to do. What am I gonna do, Bobby? How do I bring my Sammy back?"
Bobby sat there stunned as his tough as nails friend fell apart before his eyes. He really wished Jim was here. Jim was great at dealing with feelings and stuff like this. Not him. Bobby had avoided "chick flick" moments since his wife's untimely demise. But looking at his friend's crestfallen face he knew he'd have to give it a shot. As he worked to come up with the right thing to say he took off his cap, ran a hand through his hair, and then replaced the cap. Then clearing his throat he laid out what he hoped was the best solution. "Alright, here's what we're going to do. First you're gonna pull yourself together. You've got two boys that are depending on you to make things better." Seeing John's nod he continued. "Now we need to get all the information we can from the doctor about Sammy's condition. We'll decide what to do after we have all the facts." Standing up he walked over and put a hand on John's shoulder. "Hang in there Johnny. We'll get Sammy through this."
Dean stepped out of the bathroom and worriedly ran over to his dad. "Dad! What's a matter? Did something happen to Sammy?"
John took hold of Dean's arm and drew him into a hug. "He's fine, Dean. Sammy's gonna be just fine. I want you to go get some breakfast in the cafeteria with Bobby." He said as he reluctantly let Dean go.
"But dad" Dean argued.
"That's an order, Dean." John commanded.
"Yes sir" Dean replied. "Come on old timer. Let's go."
"Old timer my a." Bobby grumbled as he followed Dean out the door. "I'll show you who's old."
John smiled and shook his head at Dean and Bobby's antics before turning his attention back to Sammy.
At the station
Officer Lloyd looked over all the case notes accumulated so far as he sipped his latest cup of coffee. Hearing a knock on the door he yelled, "Enter" not even looking up from his work.
"Sir, Mr. Brooks is here to see you." Officer Hardy said.
"Great. Just what I need." Lloyd mumbled. He carefully put away the notes and glanced up. "Okay. Send him in."
Hardy disappeared out the door. A few minutes later a very angry Mr. Brooks stomped in the room. "I demand to know what's taking you so long to catch my family's killer!" he hollered. "Why hasn't that Winchester man been brought in? He was at my house arguing with my wife the night before her murder! He even threatened her! He must have done it! Why isn't he in jail already?"
"Calm down Mr. Brooks" Officer Lloyd soothed. "My men have been working on your case nonstop since it happened yesterday. I'm sorry but I cannot go into the specifics of the case with you. Just rest assured that we're doing everything we can to bring their killer to justice."
"Well that's not enough! Maybe I need to talk to my friend the mayor about your lack of effort on this case. I'm sure he could find another officer to look into it properly." Brook threatened.
Lloyd glared at the man before him. "Don't you dare threaten me! He growled. "You wanna run to your friend go right ahead. It won't help. This case will be treated like any other case. I will not jump the gun just because of your status in the community."
"You just made a big mistake, officer and I'll make sure it's your last." Mr. Brooks spit out as he tromped out the door.
Officer Lloyd sat silently gathering his thoughts for a moment. Then he buzzed the intercom. "Send Officer Hardy in." he ordered.
At the hospital
Bobby and Dean walked back into Sammy's room to see John attempting to get his youngest to eat some breakfast. Sharing amused glances they went over to stand beside John. "Need some help there, dad?" Dean asked.
"Here Dean. See if you can get him to eat." John instructed offering Dean his spot on the bed.
Glancing down at the runny eggs and plain grits Dean made a face. "Ewww! No wonder Sammy won't eat. It looks like something Caleb cooked." Dean joked.
"The kid's got a point, Johnny." Bobby chimed in.
"I know. But he needs to eat something." John pointed out.
Winking at his little brother Dean reached in his pocket. "Maybe Sammy would like this instead." He said as he pulled a small box of Lucky Charms out of his pocket and held it up for his brother to see. "What do you think, Sammy? You want it?"
"Charms!" Sammy squealed reaching out for the box and almost spilling his milk in the process.
"Easy there, sport!" Bobby called grabbing the carton. Taking Sammy's spoon he scooped the grits onto the eggs before dumping the cereal in the now empty bowl and pouring milk on top. "There you go, Sammy. Eat up!"
The three watched smiling as Sammy dug into his cereal cleaning the bowl in no time. When Sammy was finished, John picked up the discarded napkin and cleaned Sammy's hands and face. Just as he was moving the tray table out of the way he heard a knock on the door. "Come in." he called as he set the table in the corner.
An older woman came into the room glancing curiously between John and Bobby. "I'm here to talk to a Mr. Winchester."
"I'm John Winchester." John said putting himself between the stranger and his boys. "What can I do for you?"
Walking over the woman held out her hand. "Mr. Winchester, my name's Janet Webster. I'm the child therapist Dr. Chaplin told you about."
John stepped up and shook the offered hand stopping the doctor from coming any farther into the room. "Let's take this outside." John stated. He ushered the therapist out the door calling "I'll be right back" before shutting the door behind him.
Dr. Webster led John to an empty conference room and motioned for him to take a seat. "Mr. Winchester, Dr. Chaplin filled me in on Sammy's case and asked me to talk with you. He said you are refusing to let Sammy talk with a child therapist. Is that correct? And may I ask why?"
John scowled at the woman in front of him. "Listen Mrs. Webster. I'll tell you the same thing I told Chaplin. My son doesn't need a shrink. He has his family and we will see him through this. So stop the analysis crap and tell me what I can do to help my son."
Sensing the man's hostility Janet decided to try another approach. "Sir there's no way for me to make a diagnosis of Sammy's problem without talking to your son. If you'd just give me a few minutes of his time"
"Not a chance in hell, lady." John cut in. "I'll be going back to my family now. I should have known this was a trick."
"Mr. Winchester, wait! Please!" Dr. Webster called. Seeing John hesitate she seized the opportunity. "Please come sit back down. I promise we'll only talk about what Dr. Chaplin believes is wrong with Sammy."
John stood and weighed his choices before walking back over and taking a seat. "Alright I'm listening."
Smiling Dr. Webster set a pamphlet in front of John. This is not a firm diagnosis but Dr. Chaplin believes that Sammy is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD for short." Seeing John about to interrupt she raised a hand. "I know what you're going to say. Yes, it's the same thing many soldiers experience. But it's also common in children who have witnessed or suffered a traumatic event. PTSD can manifest in a variety of forms from nightmares and aggressive behavior to withdrawal and regression which is what I'm told has happened in Sammy's case." Pointing to the long list in the pamphlet she continued, "Sammy may start displaying more of these symptoms."
John's head was reeling from all the information he was attempting to absorb all at once. "So what can I do to help him?" he asked.
"Well, there are several things you can do. Sammy needs to feel safe and secure again. Try to stick to your daily routine as much as possible. Do whatever you normally do. Don't make any big changes such as redecorating a room or moving. And watch for triggers for any sudden behavior changes. It could be anything such as a noise or a movement."
"Yeah, we've already seen one of those. When I yelled at the doctor, it terrified him." John informed her.
"Good, that's one trigger you can definitely avoid." Dr. Webster stated. "Now I know this is a lot to take in all at once so why don't you take the pamphlet and read over it and then we'll talk again? And I hope you'll reconsider letting me help Sammy. He needs all the support he can get right now."
"Don't worry. Sammy's support is on its way here as we speak." John assured her as he picked up the pamphlet and headed to the door. "Thanks for the information."
Sammy was sitting up coloring with Dean when John returned to the room. Walking over he looked down at the picture and barely managed to stop the gasp that came to his lips. Sammy was clutching a red crayon and heavily scribbling all over the people in the scene. He had pressed down so hard on parts of the picture that the paper was torn in several places. Closing the book John carefully took the crayon from his son. "I think that's enough coloring for one day, champ." He softly said. His heart broke as he watched Sammy curl up into a ball with his knees pulled up to his chest. Moving the table out of the way John sat on the edge of the bed and scooped his baby boy up and slowly started to rock him telling him story after story about things they had done together. When John ran out of stories, Dean took over recounting the boys' adventures. Finally after an hour of rocking and memories, Sammy began to uncurl himself. He slowly relaxed in John's arms.
Bobby watched as the small family rallied around its youngest member. Wanting to give them so time alone he quietly made his way to the door. With one last look at his family he opened the door and came face to face with an extremely angry Mr. Brooks.