Warning: mentions/implied non-con

This chapter: Dean finally breaks...

Chapter 10

Dean walked slowly back to her bed with the assistance of the nurse. She tried to hide the pain she was in. She just spent the last twenty minutes in the bathroom crying silently as she attempted to use the facilities for the first time since her capture. The aches and soreness were almost unbearable. As the nurse helped lift her fragile, tiny body back onto the bed, Dean groaned slightly.

"Do you need any pain medicine, Dean?" The nurse kindly asked.

"Sure." Dean nearly moaned as she tried to find a comfortable position. She took deep breaths to try to fight back the tears after the nurse left the room. A few minutes later, she looked up to see her brother and father walk in.

"Hey, Dean." Sam said, trying for a cheerful tone. "The nurse said you were up a bit this morning. How did it go?"

Dean clenched her teeth. "Fine," she nearly ground out. The last thing she wanted to do right now was answer questions.

"Did you already have breakfast, Dean?" Her father asked.

"Yes." Dean responded without looking at them.

"I talked to your doctor this morning," Sam began, "he said we could put you in a wheelchair and take you outside." He was concerned when it appeared Dean was not listening. "You know? To get some fresh air?" His eyes narrowed. "Dean? Did you hear me?"

"What?" She asked in a clipped tone.

Sam gazed at his dad for a moment and then took the chair by her bed. "Dean, you need to talk to us. We're worried about you. The last two days since you got out of the ICU, you've barely said anything."

She looked at them with accusatory eyes. "What do you want me to say?"

John hesitated, but spoke. "Dean, if there is anything you need, just tell us so we can help you."

"Anything I need?" Dean's voice rose. "The only thing I need is to find out when I'm getting out of here." Her face was red with anger.

Sam tried to remain calm. "If you want to talk about what happened..."

Dean interrupted. "There's NOTHING to talk about, Sam. I don't remember anything." Her tone was venomous. "I'm just tired! I can't get any rest in a hospital and everyone is asking me a million fucking questions all the time! I'd probably be better if people left me the hell alone!" She panted as her rage seeped through her. Why can't they just leave her be? "If you want to talk to my doctors so much, then ask them when I can go."

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the room. Sam and John did not know what they could do to reach her. With each passing day, Dean was becoming more agitated and despondent.

Dean took a deep breath. "I just want to try to sleep. Okay?" She asked in an almost pleading tone.

John took a good look at her. "Alright, Dean. We'll come back later." He motioned to Sam to follow him out, although Sam clearly wanted to stay.

When the two left the room, Sam turned to his father. "Why did you want to leave? Dean needs us, Dad."

"I know, Sammy. But Dean is stubborn and hovering around will just make it worse."

"I just don't know what to do." Sam said as frustration and worry for Dean overwhelmed him. "Her doctor mentioned that a counselor was going to talk to her today."

John frowned a bit. "A counselor? I don't think Dean will be too receptive to that."

"I know..." Sam responded, "but, after what she's been through? It's worth a shot. She's so angry and I don't think she's even sleeping much." Sam rubbed his eyes. "He...she...God this is so messed up. I don't even know what to say anymore."

John placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "As soon as Dean is released, we'll have time to find a reversal, Sammy. Things will get better after that." John said in a reassuring tone.

Sam turned inquisitive eyes towards his father. "Are you sure, Dad? Do you think that's all it will take?" Sam saw the doubt on his father's face. He looked back at Dean's closed door and then silently followed his dad back to the waiting room.

Dean was flipping through the TV channels when she heard a knock on the door. She did not bother acknowledging it, because she knew it would not make a difference. She looked out of the corner of her eye to see a middle-aged woman walk through. She had not seen her before. Dean ignored her and continued to watch the television.

"Hello, Dean. I'm Miranda Russell." The brunette smiled at Dean. She waited for a response and when she did not receive one, she continued. "I'm the hospital counselor."

Dean rolled her eyes slightly as she shook her head. "You're a shrink?" She asked with disdain in her voice.

"No, I am not a psychiatrist. I'm a licensed crisis counselor."

"Great." Dean sarcastically mumbled to herself.

"I thought I would come talk to you...see how things are going."

"Peachy." Dean replied softly and sighed. "Look, do we really have to do this?"

"I'm here for you, Dean. I wanted to let you know that after suffering the kind of trauma you have, it sometimes helps to talk about it with someone."

"There's nothing to say." Dean replied tensely. "I don't remember."

"That's alright. We don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to."

"Fine." Dean said as she turned her attention back to the TV. After some time, as she flipped through more channels, she spoke again. "Are you just going to sit there? Let me repeat: I. Have. Nothing. To. Say." She was beginning to feel angry. 'Who does this chick think she is?' Dean thought to herself.

"Well, Dean," Miranda stood, "I'll come visit tomorrow." She smiled warmly. "It was nice meeting you." She walked out of the room.

"Oh, you too." Dean spit out after she left the room.

Dean sat in a wheelchair as Sam pushed her through the corridors of the hospital. Sam was rambling about something, but Dean did not pay attention. They entered an elevator and went to the ground floor. Sam wheeled her through a set of glass doors and into a garden. Dean hands went immediately over her eyes. The sun shone bright above them. After she adjusted to the glaring light, she tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and felt the warm southern California rays seep through her. Unfortunately this feeling was short lived; she was interrupted by Sam's voice.

"Dean?"

She slowly opened her eyes. "What?"

"I asked you a question."

"Sorry, I didn't hear you."

"I said, how do you like finally being outside?" Sam was really trying.

"It's good." Dean looked away from her brother.

"Dean, please talk to me."

"What's with this need for everyone to talk, Sam? You, dad, that god damn counselor."

"We're just concerned about you. We want to know how you are doing." Sam's puppy dog eyes watered slightly.

"Jesus, Sam." Dean chuckled bitterly. "I'm in a hospital. Apparently, according to the doctors, I was in a coma and almost died. How do you think I am?" She paused. "I'm dealing. Everyone just needs to leave me alone."

"Dean..."

"Just stop. Okay? Stop." Dean's eyes pleaded with her brother. "Look, Sammy. I'm tired. Can you take me back to my room?" Dean crossed her arms signaling the end to the conversation.

Dean found herself drifting to sleep in the late morning the next day. She heard a knock on the door. 'Not again', she thought to herself.

"Hi, Dean." The counselor said with a cheery voice as she walked into the room for the second day.

"Unbelievable." Dean muttered. She was ready to punch someone.

"How are you today?" Miranda asked as she sat next to her bed.

Dean mustered some fake enthusiasm as she smirked, "Great!"

"Look, Dean. I don't want you to think you have to act a certain way around me. I just want to help you deal with what happened. That's all. I've been helping people with this sort of trauma for almost twenty years. It's hard and difficult at first, but talking about it helps in the long run."

"Look, I'm sure you're nice and all, but there's no reason to talk about that. I don't recall anything, so what's the point?" She said as she gazed away.

"Well, we can talk about something else if you want." She paused. "I met your brother and father." She stopped when Dean's eyes widened.

"You talked to them about me?" She panted slightly.

"No. Whatever we talk about is strictly between you and me, Dean. I simply introduced myself to them." She watched how Dean calmed. "They really care about you."

"Yeah." Dean said quietly.

"It's probably hard to share your feelings with them, though. Isn't it?" Dean hesitated for a time, but then reluctantly nodded. "But you do realize that they are just worried about you?" Dean nodded again.

Dean bit her lip. "Sammy keeps asking me to talk to him. But, I just..." She looked down as she trailed off and began to stare at her hands.

"Are you two close?" Miranda asked after some time. Dean nodded. "Who's older?"

"I am...by four years." Dean answered quietly. "He keeps pushing, wanting me to 'share'. He doesn't understand that there isn't anything say. I got hurt. I'll get over it. I don't need him fussing over me all day. "

"It isn't always that easy, Dean. He was probably scared for you. He's worried."

"It's just not right. I'm the one who supposed be worrying about him." Dean began wringing her hands.

"Does that bother you? As the older sibling, having your younger brother in a caregiver role?"

Dean looked up. "What? Why would that bother me? That's just psychobabble, lady."

"I don't want to upset you, Dean. Many siblings have certain defined roles and once one steps outside of it, it can be hard to handle."

"Whatever." Dean answered. She did not feel like talking anymore. The two sat in silence for the next fifteen minutes. Miranda cleared her throat and stood.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow." Dean glared at her back as she walked away.

Sam and John sat in the cafeteria the next morning. Dean's doctors had just informed them that she was to be released tomorrow.

John looked at his youngest. "I talked to Phil Bartlett yesterday." He noticed Sam's furrowed brow. "Phil is a demon hunter in the midwest area."

"Oh? Are you going there for a job?" Sam tried to hide the concern in his voice. His dad was leaving again. His stomach was in knots.

"He has a vacation lake house near Travers City, Michigan. He said we could use it indefinitely while Dean recovers."

"We?" Sam asked with hope in his eyes.

John nodded. "It should be a good, remote region for Dean to get her strength back and hopefully find a reversal."

"I thought you would leave; return to the Demon trail."

"Eventually, I will, Sammy. And you two will understand why I have to do it alone." He held his hand up when Sam was going to interject. "But for now, we need to get Dean well and back to normal. Together. As a family." John heart warmed when Sam genuinely smiled at him.

Dean had spent another night awake. Her nightmares were so vivid that she forced herself to not fall asleep. She felt weary and tired as she stood by the window. Suddenly, she heard a knock on the hospital door. 'That's one persistent chick', she thought to herself when the counselor walked in.

"Hi, Dean."

"You don't give up, do you?" Dean asked without turning around to greet her.

"Like I said, I just want to help." She took her customary seat. "I hear you are being discharged tomorrow. That's great news."

"Yeah." Dean answered softly.

"Once you leave, I can suggest a few outpatient counselors for you to see." Dean did not answer her. "Whatever happens, Dean, find someone to talk to. You may need it." She paused. "Eventually, I hope you will realize that what happened was not your fault. And that one day, it is possible to heal and move on."

Dean's eyes teared as she clenched her fists at her side.

"Just leave." Her voice wavered.

"Dean, please." Miranda stood and walked over to Dean. She kept enough room between them to not crowd her. "It's okay to talk about it."

"Please. Just go away." Dean whispered as a tear escaped her eye.

"No one will judge you, Dean. What happened was not your fault."

"But if I hadn't gone off then..." Dean trailed off as she shook her head. "No...no...I can't..." She covered her face with her hands.

John and Sam finalized the plans and walked back to visit Dean. Sam was about to open the door to Dean's room, when the nurse stopped them. She informed them that the counselor was there. They nodded and stood by the door to wait until the session was over.

"Don't be afraid, Dean." Miranda spoke softly and gently. "They can't hurt you anymore. The police took care of that. Let us help you. It doesn't make you weak; in fact, it takes strength to allow people to help you. Especially those who love you the most."

"I can't...I can't..." Dean started crying and shaking. "Just go...JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" She screamed at the top of her lungs.

John and Sam startled when they heard Dean yelling. They both had panicked eyes when they burst into her room. They saw Dean's hands covering her face, sobbing. She stood by the window, her tiny body dwarfed by the hospital gown. John stepped towards her.

"Dean?" He said with concern as he tried to reach for her.

Dean gasped and took a hasty step back. Her bloodshot eyes were wild as she tried to focus on her father. She sounded like a little girl. "Daddy? I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." Tears continued to pour down her face.

John tried to remain calm. He was not sure how to comfort her. "Sorry for what, Dean?"

"I tried...to fight them...but I couldn't...not like this..." she gestured at her now female body. "Not like this...I couldn't fight them..." She tried to take deep breaths, but she started hyperventilating.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Dean. They hurt you. It wasn't your fault."

"I was so scared..." Dean felt weak as she reached out to the window ledge for support. She found herself sliding down until she was kneeling on the floor. She wrapped her thin arms around herself as she looked down. Sam took a chance and knelt beside her. "Sammy..." She whispered as she felt his presence.

"I'm here, Dean. I'm here." He reached out and grasped her hand.

"I was so scared..." She softly spoke as Sam felt her hot tears falling onto his hand. She forced herself to swallow and she began quietly. "I-I got a flat tire. This couple tried to help me and I said I didn't n-need their help. S-someone else stopped...but I-I couldn't see with the bright lights." Her breathing started to pick up. "I think they hit me over the head. Next thing I know...I was in some house..." She stopped for a time. Sam squeezed her hand tighter to let her know that he was still there. "I can still hear them laughing...taunting..." Her sobs returned in full force. She let go of Sam's hands for a moment as she lightly grasped her neck. "Their big hands on my neck...they said they were going to kill me, but not until t-they'd h-had their fun..." She closed her eyes and shook her head, as if that would make all the memories disappear. "T-they...they..." She could not form the words. "They...again and again..." She whispered. She wanted to look up at her brother and father but was too scared to. The shame and fear she felt was almost too much to bare.

Sam's lips were clenched tight as his face became a crimson red. Tears poured from his eyes as he heard her talk; John's eyes had a murderous glare to them.

"I can still feel them...it won't go away...every time I close my eyes...they're there...I don't want to remember!" She looked up, her eyes pleading. "I've tried! But it won't go away!" She was becoming hysterical. "I couldn't fight! I wasn't s-strong enough!" Sam inched closer to her and she fell into his chest. "Sammy...make it go away! Make it go away...please..." Sam clutched her to him like his life depended on it. There was nothing he could say to comfort her at that moment. He gently stroked her hair and rocked her as she cried.

TBC...