"Bobby", Sam called the older man over. "Take a look at these..."

Bobby took one look at the healing cuts and scars on Dean's arm, and frowned.

"Please tell me it's not what it looks like," Sam felt sick.

Bobby looked as heartbroken as Sam. "I don't wanna believe it either, but it's not all that surprisin'. We shoulda seen the signs earlier."

"Yeah," Sam couldn't believe that his big brother would take a blade to his own skin. He always seemed so strong. He couldn't imagine what hell had been like. It had definitely changed Dean. Sam watched him sleeping. He noted the dark circles under his eyes. How thin Dean had become.

They were together 24/7! He knew something was wrong. He'd seen the drinking and nightmares, but he never saw this coming.

Dean had been self-destructing for months, and Sam hadn't done anything about it. He felt so guilty...

Dean awoke from a tortured sleep filled with dreams of Hell. The first thing he became aware of was the pain. His arms were burning...maybe he was in Hell after all. Bu then he heard the familiar sound of a heart monitor beeping steadily. Smelled the hospital-antiseptic scent.

Fuck. He was still alive.

He groaned and blinked against the harsh white light.

"He's waking up. Dean!"

He heard Sam's voice. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw his brother and Bobby hovering over him, concern evident on their faces.

"Hey," He said hoarsely. "You gank the ghouls?"

"Yeah. Not before they did a number on you though. But it looks like you did a number on yourself first..."

Dean started to panic. Sam knew? He looked down, and saw that the bandages didn't cover all the scars. His weakness was visible for everyone to see. The heart monitor started beeping faster as his anxiety climbed. Sammy couldn't know. No one could know...

"Hey, hey, calm down." Sam grabbed Dean's hand. "It's okay, you're okay. I'm not mad."

Dean shook his head. "You don't understand."

"Help me understand, De!" Sam looked like he was close to tears. "Why would you do this to yourself?"

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "How I feel...this...inside me, there aren't words."

"You can't just shoulder this thing alone...let me help."

"How? Do you really think a little heart-to-heart, some sharing and caring, is gonna change anything? Somehow...heal me?" He laughed bitterly. "I deserve it. I deserve it all. Cas should have left me in Hell."

"Don't say that. We need you, Dean. I need you." Sam's voice broke.

"I'm sorry, Sammy." Dean whispered. "The things I saw in Hell...there is no forgetting. There is no making it better. Because it is right here," He gestured to his head. "Forever. You wouldn't understand. And I could never make you understand."

"We're gonna get you help, boy." Bobby said determinedly.

"I don't want help. Dean declared in a quiet but firm voice.

As if on cue, the doctor came in. "Sam? May I speak with you?"

"Sure thing."

Sam stepped out into the hall with the doctor. "Have you thought about admitting your brother to our psychiatric ward?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Doc. What if he didn't mean to cut so deep? I mean, what if he wasn't trying to kill himself?" Sam was in denial. After all, it had been the ghouls who'd sliced his wrists open, not Dean himself.

"Those cuts looked really deliberate. They were almost certainly intended to be fatal. But even if your brother wasn't trying to commit suicide, he still needs help. From the looks of it, he's been self harming often, quite possibly every day, for months. He's probably addicted to it." The doctor paused. "Also, his blood-alcohol level was unusually high. My guess is that he numbs the pain by drinking as well."

Sam felt overwhelmed. He knew Dean needed help, but admitting him to the psych ward was not gonna cut it. If Dean started talking about Hell and monsters, they'd never let him out.

"I don't think he'd do well in a psych ward. I think I'll just find him a therapist he can meet with one-on-one."

The doctor smiled. "Of course. Whatever you feel is best for your brother. We do have a 48-hour suicide watch policy though, so he'll need to stay here for the next two days."

The nest two days seemed to drag on. Dean was dying for a drink. He was dying to cut. He was dying in every way except the way he wanted to.

Hi guys! Next chapter is gonna include some Castiel. (I don't ship Destiel, so sorry, but none of that.) Ideas are welcome! Please drop a review :) (also, still working on Carry on my Wayward Daughter. Check it out.)