Huh. The pitfalls of technology. I apologize for the delayed posting even if it hasn't been my fault. Seems like FF has some technical troubles and along with me everyone else isn't able to post anything. One big THANK YOU goes out to BranchSuper at this point because she helped me out, so thanks to her I'm able to post again.

And because you guys had to wait so long and I am just so happy to update and because I want to reward my new hero BranchSuper (one big huf up to Cape Breton Island!), I'm going to post two chapters now. So, this is number one...and hopefully I'm able to post number two right afterwards...

Oh, and before I forget: once again I have to say you guys are amazing, you know that, right? I'm blessed to have you around with all your lovely reviews and encouragements. Thank you so so much!

Hope you like this one! Enjoy!

Chapter 21

When Sam stepped carefully into the room he could feel a set of suspicious eyes drilling holes into his back.

That damn nurse. Next time he was going to give her a few dollars more, providing that she stuck her nose into a fashion magazine or took a cigarette break. Sam could only hope it had been enough to keep her from calling Salinger and report that Mr. Rodgers' psychiatrist was here for a little meet and greet with a patient who was absolutely none of his business.

The room looked exactly like the one Dean had lain in – the same layout, the same smells and noises, the same machines. Only that these were turned on, making their beeps and wooshs and hisses. Approaching the bed Sam was relieved to see the figure laying in between the sheets turn his head to him, albeit slow and obviously pained.

So he was awake. Good.

Sam smiled at the kid and lowered himself on the chair next to the head end. He was glad he didn't wear the suit this time. It would have built up an unwelcome poisonous distance.

Julian watched him warily with one good eye, the other swollen shut and hard to find. His whole face was hidden under countless dressings and medical strips, only parts of his cheeks, his nostrils and lips visible.

Sam cringed at the sorry sight. Okay, Dean had been pissed off. Royally.

"Who're you?" the fragile person asked, and Sam leaned closer. Julian's voice was barely above a slurred whisper, almost no strength behind the words. But at the same time, those slurred syllables held everything Julian must feel right now. Distrust. Confusion. Caution.

"I'm Sam", the younger Winchester answered softly, "I'm sorry I have to bother you. How are you feeling?"

Julian made a noise that might have been a snort and turned his head away.

Okay. So much for a soft approach. Maybe no beating around the bush then.

"Look, I know what happened to you", Sam began, "those...differences you had with the other patient, Dean Rodgers..."

The way Julian jerked his head back at him was so surprisingly fast Sam flinched. "Differences? The asshole almost beat me to death."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Did your sister tell you about him?"

Julian's heated glare turned into wide-eyed astonishment. The dressings on his face sagged the tiniest bit, along with his features.

"What?" A whisper, even quieter than before.

"Your sister, Sadie, she knows Dean. She met him, am I right, Julian?"

"My sister's dead..."

"Yes, I know. Look Julian, I know about her. I know what happened to her, that she killed herself. That she's in hell."

Julian flinched at the mention of the place, but held Sam's gaze. "Who are you? What are you up to? Are you one of Salinger's new secret weapons? A new kind of psycho-doc, trying the 'I'm your friend, you can trust me'-way?"

Now it was Sam's turn to snort. "None of the above, that's for sure."

"So? What is this about, then? You have no right to..."

"I believe you, Julian. I know you're in here because no one else did, but I believe you because I know that it's real. Hell? I know that it exists. Trust me, I know. I've seen what it does to people. The connection between your sister and you? I know that things like this are possible. I've read your files and I never doubted a single thing I've read in there."

Julian didn't react, just continued to stare at Sam. The Winchester could see the other man's eyes water.

"That's actually good for you", he sobbed defiantly, biting his upper lip, "but now that you read my files why are you here? Everything interesting's in there."

"Because I want to hear it from you. In your words. Without any scribbled opinions and notes from some shrink suggesting that you might have this kind of therapy or that kind of medicine." Sam smiled his most genuine smile at the kid. "Please. Just humor me."

Julian averted his eyes and wiped angrily at them. He became silent, seemed to withdraw back into himself.

Sam couldn't blame him. There he was, a complete stranger, telling that kid that he knew about the very things that had landed him on the funny farm, on top of that believing him! Wanting to know the crazy story from him, in technicolor and Dolby Surround.

Maybe that was too much to ask. Maybe Sam should consider himself satisfied with the story he had read in the files, figuring out the last bits that were missing in this puzzle on his own. He was about to stand when Julian raised his head and took a feeble breath.

"Sadie and me, we had such a strong bond", he began shakily, almost inaudible, "I was her baby brother but I was her rock all the same. From the cradle. But when she got that job...and got those problems...not even I was able to help her. I tried so hard, but..." He stopped, raised a fine-boned hand to his face and wiped gingerly at his eyes.

Sam leaned forward, considered to touch Julian's shoulder in a gesture of sympathy but decided to let it go. He remembered the circumstances of Sadie's death from the reports and swallowed. When he had read about her in Julian's files the fate of Sadie Todd had shook him to the core.

A young woman, a freshly graduated police officer, the first job. She might have had the right attitude, the right education, the necessary passion for it. The only thing that had been wrong with her had been her sex.

Her co-worker's bullying had went on for months. A wide range of crap, from sexist remarks up to denigrations and rough treatments. Sadie's superiors hadn't intervened. Her request to be transferred to another precinct had been rejected over and over.

In the end Sadie had been demoralized. Destroyed. Ashamed. And she had seen no other alternative.

"It had started a few weeks after her funeral", Julian went on, calm and collected now, "I saw her in my dreams. She talked to me. I thought it were only dreams, but at some point I realized it weren't." He looked up, a dull but excited sparkling in his eyes. "We were able to communicate. In real-time. I read books, searched the internet to find a way to talk to her and...it worked. The only thing I had to do was to sleep.

"And then I made the mistake to call our parents. To tell them about the connection between Sadie and me. That's how I landed in here. They thought I had lost my mind."

Sam frowned. "You could've backpedalled. Could've told them and your therapist that you've been wrong about the whole thing."

Julian looked sadly up at him. "And deny my sister? I'd never do that."

A silence ensued between the two men. From the corner of is eye Sam saw the nurse pace her little office, obviously nervous and displeased about the duration of Sam's stay.

"I can see only her, never her surroundings", Julian continued, "She knows exactly where she is. She told me about the place, told me she's in hell, told me about the demons and all the creatures. That she isn't alone down there, that there are so many people, souls, some deserving to be there, some not. She was never happy but from one day to the other she changed. Suddenly Sadie was scared, agonized, in pain."

Sam's breathing hitched. He knew what was about to come.

"What she told me...I almost couldn't stand it. I didn't want to hear it. But I listened. Every night. Every midday nap, I listened. Falling asleep meant to see her battered body, her blood-soaked hair, her shredded skin. I even reached a point I didn't want to sleep anymore because I just couldn't hear Sadie talk about the things she endured, couldn't see her destroyed frame anymore.

"She changed so much. She got angry with me, she screamed at me for not helping her, for leaving her down there, for knowing what went on and not doing a single thing. But what were I supposed to do? Huh? What in the world could I have done to help her?"

Now it was Sam's turn to avert his eyes. He looked to the floor, feeling slightly nauseous. If it was so hard to listen to this, how must it have felt to actually be there?

"She got away then...I don't know, a different spot in the pit, I don't know how it works. And she healed. Physically. But the things she had gone through? Those are etched on the memory, hers and mine. And I think she never got over it that I didn't come to help. She's still angry at me, I guess. And I can't blame her. But there came the day it crossed my path. That one soul that had changed over to the opposite camp. Had tortured and martyred not only Sadie, but hundreds, maybe thousands of others down there."

Another small pause. Time for Sam to realize that Dean had indeed caused havoc in so many terrible ways he could have ever imagined.

"How did..." he rasped, pausing and clearing his throat, "how did you know that? Known that it had been another soul? And that it...I mean, him had been here?"

"Sadie had felt him. The moment he had been brought in here, she had felt him. She told me to look out, that I would recognize him. And I did. I felt him. I can't describe it, I just knew it was him."

Julian dropped his head back, sank into his pillow. His voice had grown hoarse during the last minutes, the story having exhausted him visibly. He closed his eyes with a frown.

Sam chewed on his bottom lip. He had heard things from Julian he couldn't find in any report or patient file. Things he wasn't sure he had wanted to hear.

He had been shocked by Dean's confessions, back then, leaning against the Impala. He had felt his brother's pain and regret, had connected the dots for himself and had imagined how it had been down in the pit. But hearing all this was almost too much, even for him.

It was partly shock over the things Dean was obviously capable of. But it was also shock over the enormous ferocity towards his brother that had led him to do things like that. What Dean had gone through those thirty years, Sam could only surmise. But knowing that Dean would never ever harm an innocent person or even animal and now learning how others had suffered from what he'd done in hell...

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, searching for something to say.

"How come that you believe me?" Julian beat him to it, looking at him with glassy tired eyes, "Do you have a connection? Is there someone in hell talking to you?"

If the situation wouldn't be so fucked up, Sam would have laughed out loud at the question.

"Something like that, yes", he answered sadly, feeling his own eyes watering up. He felt the sudden urge to see Dean. Needed to look after him. Talk to him. Tell him that he was there and not leaving him alone with this. Ever again.

As if on cue the sound of someone clearing a not very phlegmy throat sounded from the door. Sam and Julian looked over to where the nurse stood, waving a hand at them.

"Doctor, I think it's enough. Mr. Todd needs to rest now", she admonished Sam, nodding towards the exit.

Sam gritted his teeth. "Julian, I need to go now", he said, raising from the chair, his limbs protesting against the abrupt movement, "I'll get back to you."

"So, you're a doctor after all?" Julian asked, disappointment clearly audible in his tone.

"It's a long story. There's..."

"Doctor Larsson. Now."

Pursing his lip's Sam send a scowl over his shoulder before he composed his features once more, addressing Julian. "Take care of yourself, okay? Thank you for talking to me."

Julian blinked at him, puzzled and obviously confused, but didn't say another word. Sam turned and passed the nurse on his way out, presenting her an icy smile. "Thank you", he muttered with a curt nod, ignoring her raised eyebrow and the nervous twitching of her nose.

Damn. He hated to leave that kid in there just like that. He owned him at least an explanation, or a few more details to his identity. Otherwise, what on earth could he have said? Hi, I'm the brother of the guy that beat you up and I'm curious to hear how you know that he's been to hell.

Walking through the long hallway leading to the other units of the facility a deep sadness came over him. Wow, this was a whole new level of fucked up. That kid, his and his sister's fate…

He didn't know if he would have been able to cope with such a 'gift'. Him in Julian's position, sharing a connection with Dean in hell, having front seat tickets for his brother's torment.

Sam had suffered during those four months without his sibling. He had been scared for Dean, the knowledge of what his brother had to endure unbearable. The fact that he wasn't just dead, but at a place of perdition, violence and barbarism, mentally and physically, almost killing him. He had tried everything to get him back, had searched under every stone. Sure, if he would have had a connection to Dean, would have had the possibility of talking to him…maybe things would have been different.

Maybe Sam would have been able to prevent Dean from turning into the person he had become down there.

But then, he had no right to judge over his sibling. Dean had held on for thirty years. The full extend of his agonies was still beyond Sam's knowledge, but he was sure no one else would have held on that long.

Reaching the door leading to the solitary confinement unit Sam gripped the door handle and paused for a moment. He didn't know what was waiting for him behind these doors. In which condition he would find his brother right now. If Phillip was right, it was possible to find a pathetic, depressive bundle in that cell. A stranger. A person, broken and destroyed, in dire need of care and help.

Sam took a deep breath and clenched his jaw, steeling himself.

Everything was numb and dull and muffled. The beige-colored cell padding swam in and out of focus, the dark rectangle at the other side of the cell morphing into different shapes right before his eyes.

Dean stared ahead through tired, burning eyes. His body unmoving, slumped into the corner on the floor that had become his favorite spot. Yearning for sleep. Craving for peace. Held captive in a never ending nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

Seemed as if they had given him the good stuff today. Problem was that it only shut down the body. Not the brain. That stupid, little thing just kept on working. While his body felt as if it was floating in a viscous liquid, every move a slow, awkward task.

The rectangle on the wall morphed into another shape. Funny that it never morphed back to what it really was – a door to mock him. An exit, smirking at him, beckoning him to freedom. But that would only work if he'd really wanted out, right?

Which he didn't. He just wanted everything to stop. He was a freak, so why bother with him? Sam had left him, so for whom should he go on? He was a killer, so he deserved it.

The shape had changed it's M.O.. It wasn't just shifting into all kinds of forms anymore, it came closer. Dean blinked, tried to pull his head up from it's position against the wall, failing miserably. He watched the shadow approach him, becoming clearer. A few inches before it almost stepped onto Dean's outstretched legs, it stopped.

And presented a sickening grin.

There you are. Wakey, wakey, Dean-o. Up for another chat?

To be continued...

Author's notes: What happened to Sadie is actually a real case – a young police officer here in Germany comitted suicide after she was bullied by her male co-workers. Unbelievable. To say it with Dean's words: "Monsters I get. But people..."