A/N: I was going to wait until tomorrow to post but it's clear that I have no self-control, so I'm posting now. Much gratitude to Gem who really doesn't have time to be online checking fic as she needs to be focusing on her OWN writing (hint, hint!).

Chapter Fifteen

Sam didn't resist this time when Dean took him to the hospital. He followed his brother without a word, his head hung low. Dean checked him in, watching him turn over his meager personal belongings before he was assigned a room. The nurse acquainted them both with the ward and its procedures.

Throughout the instructions, Dean tried to be attentive, tried to look interested, but could not stop from noticing the way Sam's eyes had hollowed out and his gaze was as vacant as the lot where he had imagined the pawn shop.

When they were finally left alone, Dean gave the room a more careful look, pausing at its features. "Good view here," he commented, lingering by the window.

Sam was perched on the bed, staring at his lace-less shoes.

Dean swallowed, moving on, fingering the generic furniture. "They say they get cable. HBO even."

Sam said nothing, kept his gaze downward.

Dean chewed the inside of lip, moving around to look at his brother. "Sam, look at me," he said. When Sam didn't move, he squatted, trying to look up into his brother's obscured face. "Sam, you have to listen to me, okay? You're going to be okay. We'll beat this."

But his reassurances sounded weak even to him, and they had no effect on Sam. Sam held his gaze for only a moment before his eyes drifted sadly to the wall.

His mind fumbled for the right thing to say, words to make this easier for both of them. Part of him wanted to apologize, to tell Sam how sorry he was, but it was a lie that he knew wouldn't help his brother. He felt terrible that Sam was in this state--and more than a little guilty for not recognizing the signs and getting Sam help sooner. After all, he was Sam's big brother, his self-proclaimed protector. Sam was his domain, and he of all people should have nipped Sam's breakdown before it happened.

He knew he had failed Sam in many ways, knew he should have offered Sam far more emotion, demanded far more conversation from his kid brother. But that wasn't the betrayal that stung Sam now. And it was an apology that maybe he needed to make, but not now. Because Sam needed to know that he was resolute about this, that Dean had no doubts that bringing Sam here was the right choice.

Sam may have felt betrayed, may have resent his brother, but that was something Dean was willing to swallow if it meant Sam could get better. And he could only hope that Sam would understand in time, that Sam would see that Dean was just trying to make this right.

Dean sighed as he stood, pacing back to the window. "I know this is the middle of nowhere, but the facilities are good. I looked them up online, they've gotten good reviews. And the staff--they seem...nice."

Sam still wouldn't acknowledge him, but he watched as Dean paced the small confines of the room.

"This isn't permanent, Sam. Just temporary. Just until..." his voice trailed off and he turned back to face his brother. "They have visiting hours every day. And you can call me anytime. Day or night. No matter what."

Sam merely laid back on the hospital bed, his faced turned to the wall.

"I'll be back first thing in the morning, Sam. Just...just get some sleep, okay?"

Sam just nodded again, keeping his eyes fixed on the blank wall in front of him. Dean paused awkwardly, wishing there was something else he could say, something to make this easier, something to ease that look of betrayal and emptiness he saw in his brother's eyes. But the words eluded him.

Sam hadn't moved. He lay without speaking, refusing to look or speak to his brother.

Dean sighed. This was going to be harder on both of them than he had anticipated.

OOOOOOO

Dean didn't know how to help Sam, but that didn't mean he intended to sit idly by. After asking a few nurses, he managed to find Dr. Ness in his office.

Dr. Ness greeted him cordially. "Mr. Clarke, I'm very glad to hear that you brought Sam back in."

Dean couldn't quite bring himself to smile. "So what exactly are we looking at here?"

"We'll do a more thorough psychiatric evaluation tomorrow, to fully assess the severity of Sam's condition."

Dean tried not to flinch. "How bad do you think he is?"

"Hard to say without a complete evaluation. But given Sam's lack of self-motivation, the agitation, the unbalanced behavior, I think we're looking at a fair amount of unresolved grief and anxiety. Sam was clearly traumatized by the incident involving his girlfriend, and it is fair to assume that the psychological impact of that event has only begun to assert itself. But there is a reason it's called brief reactive psychosis. Sam's episode will likely not last long and it is purely his mind's way of dealing with the grief that he's refusing to process. However, he needs a safe and stable environment to move away from his delusions, and then he needs prolonged therapy to help him cope. The first few days are likely to be difficult and I think we can expected some outbursts from Sam within the early weeks here, but with intense therapy, I think Sam can live a happy and productive life."

Dean barely contained his wince at the man's words. Happy and productive? Who knew what that meant to the doctor? Dean doubted it would mean the same for Sam.

"I'd also like you to come in and see someone in the clinic. Do you and Sam have any other family?"

"Our dad--but he's, uh, not around."

The doctor didn't let Dean's glossed over version of the truth slide. "Is there a reason behind that?"

"Well, he's just got...some stuff to take care of."

The doctor nodded. "What about your mother?"

Dean swallowed hard. There was another issue he didn't want to go into. "She died. When Sam was a baby."

"Mmhmm," the doctor noted. "Are you close to any extended family? Any close friends?"

"It was pretty much just the three of us growing up." Alone in the car and ramshackle motel rooms, learning to shoot and dig up graves.

"And does Sam keep in contact with anyone from school? Anyone related to his girlfriend?"

Dean shook his head tightly. "We've been on our own since...the fire."

"Well, then I think it's especially important that you also be active in Sam's recovery process. He needs a support system, something more than what's he had. I realize that's not always easy, but Sam will need you if his recovery is to be successful."

The idea of seeing a shrink himself sounded about as appealing as having his fingernails removed with tweezers. But this wasn't about him, he reminded himself. This was about Sam. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Whatever is best for Sam."

The doctor smiled. "Good. When you come by tomorrow, we'll see about getting you a consistent appointment, and eventually maybe even some group sessions with you and your brother."

Dr. Ness sounded hopeful, even upbeat, but it made Dean nervous, tore him up inside. Therapy wasn't exactly going to be easy. Any slip of what they really did with their lives, and both he and Sam would be carted off. But Sam needed to deal with Jess' death, and Dean was willing to take that chance if it meant Sam could move on with his life.

He asked the doctor about visitation and learned what Sam's daily schedule would be for the next few days. The doctor promised him a briefing after Sam's first therapy session and told Dean he could call the nursing staff at any time to find out how his brother was doing. He left the doctor with a humble thanks and plans to return to Sam's room one last time, hoping that Sam might say something, that they might part on better terms, before Dean left for the night.

OOOOOOO

Sam didn't like the wall color. It was too nondescript to be soothing and the uneven layers of paint seemed to suggest a faltering facade of peace and safety.

The thought of safety made Sam scoff. He wasn't any safer here than anywhere else. Whatever it was, it was still out there.

No, it wasn't real.

Sam's mind tried to reconcile what he felt, what he saw with the sad knowledge in Dean's eyes. It felt so real--the pawn shop, Dominic, the voices...

But Dean would never lie to him, not when it mattered. Sam trusted his brother completely and implicitly, and had relied on Dean in nearly every possible way during their time hunting together.

He had never understood the depth of Dean's devotion before he left, but in the months that had followed since Jessica's death, he had seen a new side of Dean emerge. A vulnerable side, a scared side. Dean didn't show it often, and he tried to cover it when he did, but Sam could feel it now, sense it under the interactions they shared. Dean wasn't as different from him as he had once thought.

He had always struggled against being the baby of the family, and all that it entailed. Dean had been constantly overprotective of Sam when he was a teen, often trying to keep Sam from harm either by throwing himself in front of his kid brother or by relegating Sam to some sidelined role, both of which Sam had always resented. But more than that, Sam had resented his brother's ready acquiescence, his ability to give up everything for his father and obey without question. He had thought it a weakness for years.

But Dean didn't obey for his own sake. He obeyed for the family, for the greater good, for him.

Dean always had his best interests at heart, even above his own. In the past eight months, Dean had saved him countless times. From Bloody Mary, the shapeshifter, the poltergeist in Lawrence, the tulpa, the shtriga. He trusted Dean with his life day in and day out, and Dean had never failed him.

So if Dean believed that this was all a delusion, that Sam needed to stay here, that it wasn't real...

Sam drew a shuddering breath. "It's not real," he whispered to the wall. Dean wouldn't lie to him.

Betrayer.

He didn't flinch, just squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw tight. It's not real, it's not real, it's not real.

You are the betrayer.

The voice was louder more insistent. He could feel it inside of him. His breath quickened. Dean said...

The voice let out a low cackle. You are mine.

This wasn't happening. They weren't real. Dean had shown him, Dean, Dean. He needed Dean. notrealnotrealnotreal...

You cannot escape.

Sam tried to deny it, tried to convince himself it wasn't there. "No. Not real."

The laughter encompassed him, filled him, and he felt himself panicking. Real or not, he had to get out of here. He had to find Dean.