A/N: EEK! I meant to post this earlier--I really did. But somewhere between repainting my kitchen, hanging out with my husband, and dealing with a headache, I kind of forgot. So, my apologies! I'm kind of curious to see how you all respond to this chapter...Anyway, as always, everything good I write comes from Gem, who alone is the only person who could make me write humor and stay away from speculation on S2, both of which are impressive feats :)

Chapter Sixteen

Dean could already navigate Sam's ward with ease, and found his baby brother's room quickly after leaving the doctor's office. He had felt somewhat reassured after talking to the doctor, and had hoped that his own reassurance could assuage some of Sam's doubts and fears.

When he entered Sam's room, though, all thoughts of conversation were replaced with the need to act. There were people in Sam's room--one leaning over his kid brother and giving him some sort of shot while another, clearly larger man, was forcibly restraining the him.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Dean asked, charging forward.

The burly nurse who had been holding Sam moved toward Dean as he approached, holding him at bay. "Please, sir, just let us work."

The answer hardly satisfied Dean. "Work? What are you doing to him?"

Another nurse he didn't recognize recapped a syringe before disposing it. She gave Sam a brief look before moving back toward Dean. "It's okay, Alex. Let him go."

Alex relaxed his grip, moving away slightly, but standing protectively by the other nurse's side.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"

"Mr. Clarke, don't worry. Sam became agitated as we prepared him for bed--"

"Yeah, and that's why he's here. To help him get his grip back on reality," Dean said, straining to glance over their shoulders to get a glimpse of his baby brother. Sam had stilled on the bed, his chest still heaving, but slowly falling to a steady rhythm.

"He was insisting on leaving and we were worried he may hurt himself so we sedated him."

Dean's gaze shifted angrily back to the nurse. "Sedated him? Why? He needs therapy, not drugs."

"We can't help Sam if he's hurting himself."

"He just felt anxiety at being left alone!" Dean exploded. "He just needed someone to talk to him, to calm him down--"

"Such irrational anxiety will hinder his progress. Keeping him well rested is a vital part of his recovery plan, the plan that you agreed to."

"I didn't agree to anyone giving my brother drugs!"

"I assure you, this was just a mild sedative. He'll be asleep for a few hours, and there won't be any side effects. This is a normal procedure."

The nurse's voice was soothing, and while Dean felt his flash of anger subsiding, his worry reasserted itself steadily. "Well, I'm not really a huge fan of normal." Dean paced to Sam's bed, putting an anxious hand to his brother's face. Sam's eyes had slid shut and his head lolled off the pillow. Dean gently pulled the pillow back into position and settled the covers higher over Sam's chest.

He was starting to doubt if bringing Sam here had been the right choice at all.

Dean let himself be guided back to the hallway, where he found Dr. Ness moving toward him. "Is there a problem, Mr. Clarke?"

"Yeah, they're drugging up my kid brother."

Dr. Ness glanced at the nurse, who held out the vial. "Just the sedative. Sam was becoming agitated, trying to leave. It's well within operating procedure."

Dr. Ness nodded and smiled. "Thank you, Wendy. Let me have a word with Mr. Clarke alone, please."

She nodded politely and continued down the hall.

Dean was staring hard at the doctor, waiting.

"I promise you, the sedative your brother was given was mild."

"I don't care. I never said you could drug him."

"I understand that. However, you did give the hospital discretion to use the means necessary to help your brother heal from his emotional trauma. I am more than happy to discuss his treatment with you, but you have to trust in the staff's judgement regarding Sam's care. You brought Sam here because you felt it was best for Sam."

"Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong," Dean snapped.

The doctor breathed evenly. "I understand your frustrations. Watching a loved one go through this is difficult. And I didn't know you or Sam felt so strongly against drugs."

"The kid...has always had nightmares. He needs to be able to wake up," Dean explained softly.

Dr. Ness nodded. "Okay. Why don't we see how Sam sleeps tonight and revisit this conversation after I assess Sam tomorrow? Sedatives are a temporary way to help Sam relax so his body can recuperate. Right now the physical toll of Sam's condition is negatively effecting his psychological condition. I apologize if you object to the sedative, but you've seen what happens when Sam doesn't get the rest he needs."

Dean thought about Sam on the bathroom floor, convulsing, and his will softened. "I think I should stay with him," he said, glancing back through the small window on the door. "Just for tonight, to make sure he's okay."

Dr. Ness smiled sympathetically. "That's a common sentiment in this kind of situation. But I guarantee you, Sam will be just fine. Our facilities are secure and we will have staff monitoring consistently. Sam needs to get better, and he's not going to be able to do that on his own. Trust me."

Trusting anyone outside of his family came about as naturally as letting Sam drive the Impala. He ground his teeth. Sam did need to be here, that much was certain. Dean could barely give voice to a real emotion and handling a nervous breakdown or brief reactive psychosis or whatever fancy name they gave it seemed more than somewhat out of his league. Still, he couldn't just leave Sammy here, especially when he couldn't trust the staff to know all the details of Sam's...condition. "Fine. But I want to see him for a few minutes before I leave," Dean said purposefully. He leveled his gaze at the doctor. "Alone."

Dr. Ness seemed to weigh his options. "Okay. Visiting hours are over, so it has to be short," he agreed. "We really are going to look after Sam. You have to believe that."

Dean said nothing and brushed passed the doctor into Sam's room.

Once inside, he pulled the door shut behind him and sighed heavily.

He needed to keep it together, for Sam's sake.

Luckily, he wasn't out of options. He moved to his brother's bedside once again, assuring himself that Sam was asleep.

"It's okay, Sam," he said softly, letting his hand run lightly through Sam's hair. "I can't stay, but I'm not leaving you alone, okay? So you can just rest easy."

He moved to his bag, which was still deposited in the chair. Sifting through it, he retrieved the surveillance camera with a satisfied smirk. "Told you this wouldn't be a waste. Night vision and all."

Quietly, he dragged a chair to the corner, standing on it to mount the camera discretely. Maneuvering the cables, soon he had it set up.

He would have liked to check it, make sure it was transmitting, but he didn't have the time for that. So he checked the wires again before dismounting the chair.

Going through his bag again, he pulled out a protection charm. It wasn't salt, but he couldn't very well salt the doorways of Sam's hospital room without arousing some suspicion. But his father had acquired this particular charm from a contact on the East Coast, and Dean could remember it hanging many nights on the window in the room he would often share with Sam. It looked like a sun catcher, with small panes of stained glass. He didn't know what each pane represented, but he knew that it repelled a wide array of nasty things, which was exactly the kind of coverage Dean wanted, just to be sure. After all, Sam never was very good at avoiding problems, and the last thing he needed was for something to find his brother alone and doped up in a hospital room.

He positioned it carefully over the window on Sam's door. Besides, it would be something Sam recognized as safety, which would help provide the security of mind that Sam needed to recover.

Moving to Sam's side again, he tried to smile at his brother's sleeping form. "See? I can watch you all night long."

His attempt at a smile faded with Sam's lack of response. He sighed, and gathered his bag together.

"Sleep well, little brother," he whispered, ghosting his hand over his brother's forehead again before heading toward the door. He turned and gave his brother one last look before exiting the room and shutting the door quietly behind him.

With a request for the hospital staff to call him if there was any change at all with Sam, he left.

OOOOOOO

Manipulating the controls, Dean worked the equipment until the view of Sam's room came into focus. He felt a surge of relief at the sight of his brother, still secure and sound in the dark hospital room. Sam was still asleep under the covers.

A sliver of light filtered through Sam's door, catching the tinted glass of the protection charm hanging from the window frame.

The soft colored light splayed across his brother's sleeping form, assuring Dean again of Sam's security and illuminating his brother's even breathing.

Feeling his anxiety dissipating somewhat, he settled back into the chair, taking a sip of his coffee. It occurred to him that he hadn't thought through his plan for the night.

It hadn't necessarily been his intention to keep watch over Sam throughout the entire night, but he knew it was going to be impossible to sleep. The room felt empty without Sam and his mind refused to calm down with the thought of Sam in a foreign bed, drugged and alone.

However, staring at the small screen all night was hardly something his sleep-strained eyes could handle, so he pulled out his father's journal and began perusing, looking for nothing in particular, and prepared for a long night.

As much as he tried to focus on his father's words, his eyes kept straying back to the picture of Sam on the bed. It had not changed much; apparently the drugs had kept Sam's sleep unusually deep and his brother slept without tossing and turning.

Only an hour or two had passed, and Dean spent the time with the journal open on his lap, but his eyes on the screen more often than not. It made him feel connected to Sam, helped him not feel the void in the motel room where Sam should have been. And the peacefulness of Sam's sleep eased his conscience somewhat, helped relieve the doubt that the hospital was in fact the best place for Sam.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, he noticed something was off.

Sam seemed to stiffen in the bed, his body becoming somewhat rigid under the sheets. His head jerked to the side and Dean could see his brother's chest hitch. Dean swore. He'd been worried about Sam having a nightmare while sedated.

Sam's forehead creased as he tossed his head from side to side. This was not good.

Just as he reached for his phone to call the hospital and have someone check on Sam, something flashed on the screen.

Dean blinked, trying to gauge if he had imagined it. It wasn't there now, but as he studied the screen, he noticed Sam's breathing slowing and his features relaxing back into sleep.

Nightmares didn't pass that quickly. Something else was off.

He paused his recording, switching the reel to rewind. He played again, his eyes trained carefully on the screen.

There it was again--a brief flash, a flicker by Sam's bedside.

He rewound it again, this time playing it in slow motion.

"Son of a…." Dean's voice trailed off as he re-watched the footage. There, beside Sam, was a distorted patch of air. It was nearly imperceptible, and he almost missed it, but as he watched it again, it was unmistakable.

Something was after Sam. The truth hit him like a punch in the gut. Given Sam's reaction to the presence in the room, he could only deduce that that was responsible for Sam's erratic behavior.

Dean swore again. Sam was being attacked by something and Dean had had him committed. His failure to accurately treat the situation cut Dean deeply, as did the knowledge that he had betrayed Sam on a level he couldn't even comprehend. The defeat in Sam's eyes--all because he hadn't believed him, he hadn't done his job.

He couldn't change what he'd done. But he sure as hell wasn't going to leave Sam in there a minute longer.