Dr. Krohn rode down the elevator in silence, still annoyed at how that other doctor talked to her. Her jacket hung off of her messenger bag as she walked out of the elevator, walking towards her two original patients. She opened the door and looked in as Dean sat next to Sam like a watch dog. She checked her watch; 11:25. That kid should be tiring out by now; her nephew was out cold at 8 o' clock when he was about 9 and Dean couldn't be much older than that.

She opened the door, noticing that the portly doctor from before was standing in the other room, watching them. Karen walked in, smiling at Dean, and followed where his eyes kept evading to: the doctor in the other room. His head turned towards her, and he could tell from her eyes that he wasn't going to be seeing his father soon. His eyes found refuge in the tiled floor.

"Hey Dean. How 'bout you get some sleep?" she said, moving closer to him, hoping that he would allow her near him. His eyes watched as she started to move closer, causing him to tense up, moving a little closer to Sam as she neared. Dean saw the sadness in her eyes, but he still couldn't trust her.

"I just want to see my dad," he answered, looking between Karen and the doctor watching from the other room. He couldn't sleep; he had to watch over Sammy. His father was counting on him to make sure that Sam was safe. He wasn't about to disappoint his father now.

"I know, but you really should get some sleep." She paused, realizing that he seemed to be Sam's watchdog. "If you're worried about Sam, don't be. I won't take him away from you. I promise."

"No," Dean's answer was quiet, but forceful. It ended the conversation; Karen was confused as to how such a young child could act so mature. She looked over at the doctor in the other room and decided to ask why she was taken out of John's room when they asked her to evaluate him.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours, alright?" she stated, reaching out to rub the top of his head, but his hand swatted it away before she could. She looked sorrowfully at Dean as she walked away; I can't push this; he'll just clam up.

"How'd it go with their father?" the doctor asked; he was always more understanding than the other doctors. His plump hands closing the door behind Karen, trying to block out as much noise as he could from the Winchesters. He took one more glance at them before turning to Karen to talk.

"It didn't. Someone called another psych counsel on me," her words were bitter as she accused the doctor; her eyes never leaving Dean's as he brushed some hair off of Sam's face.

"What? I didn't call anyone." He looked at the ground, thinking if he knew anything about the psych counsel being called. His hand met the top of his balding head, rubbing it while he thought. "Who was it?"

"What?" Karen answered, not realizing she hadn't been paying attention.

"Who was the other psych counsel?"

"I don't know. I've never seen her before," she thought long and hard. No, she hadn't seen her before. Karen's head started to swim with the reasons that they would hire a new psyche counsel without telling her; Just testing her out, maybe they needed someone quickly and forgot to tell me, maybe they didn't want to tell me. I need to know the truth.

"I hope you didn't do anything that would cost you your job," the doctor said, looking back to Sam and Dean in the other room. Dean had laid down next to his brother, but still had his eyes open. The sleeping form next to him stirred and Dean's lips moved, comforting Sam back to sleep.

Karen shook her head, realizing that she had been lost in her thoughts. There was a faint buzzing that she located to be coming from her bag. She dug through it, trying to find her pager; Not the best invention guys. The buzzing monstrosity hopped in her hand as she dug it out; it said 9-1-1. "What the hell is going on now?"

"What?" the doctor asked; Karen placed the pager in the doctor's line of view, allowing him to see with his own eyes. His pocket started to chirp with life as his own pager began to buzz. The pager emerged from his chubby hand, showing the same numbers that Karen's had. Both of their eyes met, knowing that they only shared one patient.

"What? No hello? No how are you doing?" the demon possessed doctor said, Lucie according to her nametag; although technically I wasn't talking to Lucie, but I'm not going into details.

"I'm not much of a talker," I answered back, turning my head so that my eyes had full view of her. Her stride was confident and strong as she took a seat in the chair that Dr. Krohn had just vacated. Her elbows rested on her knees as her head stayed on her palms, looking at him with wonder.

"Oh, well if you don't want to talk then you can just listen." She changed her posture so that her back was against the chair, but she was slouching. A smile curled her lips as she watched me. I gritted my teeth, I wanted to strangle her. I can't let her near my boys, never. "You'll listen as I tare you're little family apart. Listen as your boys scream for their father, scream for each other as they are dragged off to foster homes. They'll probably never see each other," she looked down at her fingernails, as though she was bored with the torment she was putting me through.

My eyes must have shown it all, since Lucie chuckled at me. I just wanted to scream; scream out of anger, for help, death; anything, but this. My throat closed up as I couldn't think of any response.

"Speechless?" her eyes grew tiny as her pleasure grew. She stood up, taking a few steps closer to my bed. She bent down, her face close enough that I could feel her breath on my face. I closed my eyes against the heat that radiated off of her, turning my face away as she bent in closer. Her lips were brushing against my ears, "And I won't even be the one that ruins your life. You are."

I felt the grip of bounds around my wrist loosen as she whispered; it loosened enough for me to slip one hand out. My hand pushed her away, causing her to fumble backwards a couple of steps. She smiled at me as my free hand found my other wrist, ripping my other hand free.

A few steps and Lucie was next to my bed, trying to grab hold of my hands, but to my surprise I was about to force her back into the chair that was only a few feet from my bed and into the wall. I tried to get to break free completely, but shouting came from the hallway as the door was pushed open. Three abnormally large men in white outfits rushed at me, grabbing my arms as I fought for freedom. I guess this is what the British felt like, so close to victory, and then the rug gets ripped out from underneath them for they were being too lazy, too careless; careless enough to forget that doctors carry panic buttons when seeing a 'mentally unstable patient'.

There was a small pinch to my arm as the needle was inserted into my skin. My vision blurred and my muscles became unresponsive. I knew that I was going under, but I still fought to stay awake. The last thing I heard the Lucie's voice: "This man can't take care of children!"

"Dean, where are we going?" Sam's hands were pawing at his eyes again as Dean dragged him down the hallway. Dean's head moving every which way in search for something in particular. They rushed past nurses and doctors, hoping that none of them would try to stop them. It wasn't likely they would care, they all seemed to busy going upstairs.

"Dean," Sam whined, he wanted to go back to sleep. He didn't like walking around the hospital, it was cold and when someone rushed past another gust of cold air would knock into him, sending a chill up his spine. His brother's eyes shot to their corner to look at Sam, determination in his eyes. His voice was even and smooth as he spoke:

"I just need to call Pastor Jim." His eyes went back to the hallway, almost as though he was driving and had to keep his eyes on the road (or hallway in this case) at all times. Dean didn't want to wake his brother up, but he couldn't leave him there. He had to watch after Sam and he needed to call Pastor Jim. A phone wasn't going to magically show itself so he had to find it himself. He couldn't leave Sam alone, and he knew he wasn't capable of carrying him down hallways. Naturally, after a long debate with himself he woke Sam up and was now dragging him down hallways.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, Sam bumping into him, not realizing that his brother had stopped. Sam's mouth was wide as he yawned while Dean moved towards the pay phone, digging his hand into his pocket, searching for change. His hand surfaced from the pocket without treasure, making him frown at his empty palm. He reached up and grabbed the phone; hearing the dial tone, he paused. It took him a minute to remember Pastor Jim's number. Dialing the number, waiting to see if the phone would actually ring and luckily it did. It rang three times before a groggy voice answered:

"Hello?"

"Pastor Jim, where are you?"

"Where I'm supposed to be. Who is this?" There was a pause, "It's 12 in the morning."

"It's Dean…Winchester," he said his last name in a whisper, "I need you to come to

Aurora, South Dakota. Sacred Heart Hospital."

"Dean? What? Why? Where is your father? Is he alright?"

"I don't know, just get here as fast as you can," Dean looked down at Sam, who had sat down next to the pay phone. His eyes were closed as his breathing evened out, signaling he was asleep. Dean smiled at how innocent Sam looked, but turned his eyes back to the pay phone once he heard Pastor Jim's voice again.

"Alright Dean. I'll get there as quickly as I can."

There was a click as the phone call was terminated. Dean hung up the phone and looked around; the hospital staff seemed to have calmed down in those last few moments that he was on the phone. Dean sat down next to his brother, not wanting to wake him up, and rested his head against the wall as he pulled Sam tight. His eyes felt heavy, but he kept them open, knowing that he couldn't rest until Pastor Jim got there.