So, you know you haven't updated in a while when you get an e-mail asking if you're going to continue the story. Valerie and Friendly, thanks for the kick-start. Sorry that it's been so long since an update.

Hope everyone enjoys this chapter. It's a littleless dramatic.

Sam's stomach was tied in knots. He had never been forced to talk to a psychiatrist before, but he knew that under the current circumstances, it would be anything but good. His brother still stood next to the bed, keeping him company, but he knew it wouldn't last. There was no story that he could tell the doctor, that he would believe. 'Sorry, doc. See, I was being controlled by this girl who killed herself twenty-five years ago.' For now, he would be forced to go along, to tell them that he was sorry and that he would never try it again. Yeah, that would work, almost as well as the truth would. Dean flashed him one of his hundred watt smiles, before leaving the room to go see where the doctor was. He could leave. Sam just knew that the second he set his foot outside of the room, alarms would go off and security guards would come running. Checking his watch for the fiftieth time, he noticed that it had only been about a half hour. Funny how things seem to drag on, to take so much more time than they actually did, when you were anxious. Moments later, Dean was back, his smile turning into a frown when he saw his brother.

"Relax, Sammy." He instructed, and it wasn't until that moment that Sam realized his breath was coming in jagged gasps. This was what hyperventilation felt like then, the lightheadedness that he was feeling now.

"Dean, I don't want to be here. You have to help me come up with something to tell them so that I can leave with you today." Sam begged, burying his fingers in his eyes. This waiting was killing him; if they already knew they were taking him upstairs, then why did it take so long for them to come and get him?

"It will only be for a couple of days, and then I'll come and get you. I promise. Just don't tell them you see dead people, Haley Joel." Dean said, his face lighting up with a signature smile.

"Screw you." Sam snarled, his voice lending a vivid picture to his brother of just how upset he was.

"It's gonna be okay. Sammy, man, you don't have to be worried here. I can honestly promise you that nothing bad is going to happen this time. You're better."

"It's not that. It's just...I don't wanna be trapped here, Dean." The words had barely left his mouth when a woman wearing a long white coat came through the door.

She smiled at Sam warmly, and he let out a huge breath. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he had thought. "How are you feeling today, son?" Her voice was a heavy laden southern accent, and she was treating him like a child. There was no way he was getting out of this.

"A lot better. I don't know what I was thinking." Sam stumbled over his words for a few seconds, and finally left off with a little smile.

"Okay. And who's this guy?" She asked him, clearly trying to not hear his words for the time being.

"That's my brother, Dean. He watches over me." Sam said sadly, wishing and not for the first time this evening, that he had allowed him to do just that after they'd left the dorm building.

"Does he live with you?" She asked, taking down a few notes.

"Yes, ma'am."

"And where was he tonight?" Sam felt his stomach tighten at the unintentional accusation that was found in her words.

"I locked him out of the bathroom." It sounded stupid, even to him, and he was sure that she wasn't too thrilled with that. After all, hadn't all little boys learned how to open bathroom doors with a credit card? Dean just wanted to give him some space. They'd been...crowded, lately.

"Can you tell me what happened tonight?" Her voice was still calm and gentle, but it gave promise that it could change.

"I made a mistake. I was really upset, and I went and swallowed all my medicine. It was just really stupid of me," he tried to explain, to be humble and maybe she would see that he was sorry. If he would have looked up, he would have seen Dean grimace in response to his words before turning to face the other way. That was the worst thing that he could have said.

"Which is exactly why you're going to be spending a couple days with us. If you were that impulsive a couple hours ago, what's to say that something doesn't happen in the next couple of hours that causes you to try it again?" In the presence of his words, her voice had turned stern and commanding. He knew too late that what he had said was wrong. Sam's eyes shot directly to Dean, who was looking away, trying to avoid seeing the panic in his baby brother's eyes.

"I don't... I promise I won't try it again." Sam tried again, only to be stopped.

"Why should I believe the words of someone who tried to commit suicide this evening? You have no idea how many young people I see who come here who have tried to commit suicide. Yet they all have the same promises and they would all go try to do it again if I let them out the same night. Whatever drove you to do this is still there, nothing has been resolved and until it does, I don't feel right letting you out. So, here's what we're going to do: give us two days, talk to our people, attend a few groups, maybe try taking some anti-depressants if that's what the staff psychiatrist thinks is the best, and then you can go home. While you're with us, you can still call this guy, and he can still call you." She told him this, eyeing Dean. "I promise you that it will work itself out if you let it."

He nodded, knowing that there was no escaping this. Dean wouldn't even really face him right now, and Sam felt even worse as he considered what all of this must be doing to his brother. After everything that had gone on in previous months, and then this being their first hunt back from what amounted to hell...it had to be killing him just as badly. Just finding him in that bathroom had to have been horrible. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then nodded his head again.

Dean faced the wall, not wanting to see this, to feel the anxiety rolling off of Sam. This needed to happen so that he could get rid of this bitch before she had a chance to hurt his brother again. He needed to do this alone, make sure that his brother wasn't in any more danger. When he heard the doctor tell Sam that she was going to go start the intake papers, he let out a breath that he had been subconsciously holding. He knew that Sam had agreed. There would be no need for a fight.

"Dean?" The quiet voice of his brother broke through Dean's heavy thoughts. He turned and was at Sam's side in a second.

"What's going on?"

"You'll keep in contact, tell me what's going on?" Sam was taking this seriously now, and Dean had to stifle a laugh.

"You'll be here for two days, dude. You're making it sound like I'm just going to let them lock you away here for the rest of your life." There was a chuckle in his voice.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, and allowed himself to relax. "Ah, you're probably right. I just... and did you catch that woman's attitude?"

"Yeah, I thought I was going to have to go find some holy water and dad's journal. She went from 'how are you, son' to snapping like a turtle." Dean kept the banter up, knowing that it was keeping his brother calm. Five minutes later, a nurse came and helped Sammy into a wheelchair to go upstairs. When they had left, Dean went and got the number for his floor from the nurse's station. Determined that he was done slacking, Dean walked out the door with the will to go find and kill Rachel's spirit.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'm going to try to put another chapter up for this story and for "Wrecked" by this time next week, maybe earlier. Please feel free to review anyway that you would like, whether it be praise, constuctive criticism, or a question. Thanks for reading this chapter. Happy hunting.