Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kirpke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure.

Synopsis: Set at the start of Season One, Dean had been in a wheelchair since his father disappeared more than a year ago and he finally has to tell Sam… There'd been an accident that night and Dean had paid a very high price….one he still doesn't understand. The story will have some hunts from season one and possibly into season two…the brothers will continue their search for their father…there will be alterations to the hunts to accommodate Dean's new situation. I have every intention of returning Dean to good health before this ends…but getting there is going to be bumpy.

Please keep in mind that I do not have a Beta, so all grammatical errors are my own. Not Slash. Brotherly love and Angst only…

Please Review: They make me feel guilty and write faster...

Chapter 3

Rock Salt and Forced Honesty

Dean didn't know what he'd expected but this wasn't it…he was rolling down a long hallway toward where he been told, by those two kids, that his brother had gone…apparently because he'd called him. Only he hadn't…Dean hadn't called Sam and now who knows what had gotten to his younger brother. He inhaled sharply as he rolled through a large set of heavy doors, his wheel chair catching on the hinge and bringing him to a halt as he tried to untangle himself. "God damn-it!" He swore as he jerked the wheel, it finally rolled away from whatever had jammed it up and he pushed the door open to finish getting through it. He was currently missing the automatic doors that most places had nowadays. "SAM!" he called as he rolled over garbage and decades of dirt and crap, his nose wrinkled against the smell. "Sammy!" he tried again. He heard something move behind him and he spun around only to come face to face with Sam. "Sam!"

"Jesus Sam…answer me next time I'm calling you man..." He said as he quickly ran his eyes over his brother, looking for injury. "You know that wasn't me that called your cell right?"

"Yeah…I think something lured me down here." Sam's voice was calm and a little off, but Dean couldn't be positive…since he hadn't seen Sam for years, this might just be how Sam is now…how the hell would Dean know the difference?

"Yeah and I think I know who…Dr. Ellicott, that's what the other spirits have been trying to tell us. You haven't seen him have you?" Dean responded quickly as he looked around the room he'd just rolled into.

Sam continued to stand stoically, staring down at Dean his voice calm and far more controlled than it had any right to be. "How do you know it was him?"

Dean shifted his shotgun on his lap as he listened for anything that didn't sound right. "Cuz, I found his log book. Dr. Ellicott was experimenting on his patients…awful stuff. Makes lobotomy's look like a couple aspirin."

Sam tilted his head, "But…it was the patients who rioted…"

"Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of extreme rage therapy…he thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it…but instead it only made it worse and worse and they just got angrier and angrier. So I think that his spirit is doing the same thing, to the cop, to the kids in the seventies, making them so angry that they become homicidal. Come on we gotta find his bones and torch'em." Dean started rolling through the narrow hallway.

"How? The police said they never found the body." Sam said matter of factly as his eyes narrowed and he tracked Dean's movements carefully.

"Well, the log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere, where he could work on his patients…so…I mean if I was his patient I would've dragged his ass down here and done a little work on him myself. " Dean finished as he rolled around the edges of the room, looking for evidence of a hidden door or something.

"I don't know…it sounds kind of…." Sam's voice dropped off as he watched Dean roll, looking in all the right places.

"Crazy?..." Dean finished without turning around and never seeing the look of anger that was settling on Sam's face. Dean saw a metal door as he neared the end of the corridor…he pulled it open carefully, readjusting his flashlight and rolled through.

Sam narrowed his eyes as he watched his brother search. "I told you I looked everywhere and I didn't find a hidden room."

Dean snorted. "That's why they're called hidden…you hear that?" There was the distinct sound of air whistling through a small opening behind them. Dean listened more carefully, ignoring Sam's 'bitch-face'.

Sam rolled his eyes, his irritation with his brother rising rapidly as he watched Dean dismiss his already thorough search of the area. He inhaled as he saw his brother pause, exactly where the door was hidden behind massive layers of dirt and an old cabinet.

"There's a door here…" Dean never even glanced over his shoulder; he just called out the information to Sam.

"Dean…move away from the door." Sam's rage was increasing exponentially as he stared at his older brother…the same brother that had done everything that their father had ever asked. The brother that hadn't even contacted him about his injuries and then had made him feel like the bad guy because he hadn't known. He could feel the ball of rage getting bigger and bigger the longer he stared into his brother's slowly widening green eyes as he put together the puzzle pieces. Sam lifted the shotgun and pointed it center mass on Dean's chest. At least this way his brother wouldn't have to suffer anymore and he could back to school and his real life…there would be nothing to make him feel guilty about walking away this time. Dean would be in a better place…

"Sam put the gun down." Dean said, his fear rising as he watched the blood start to trickle down from Sam's nose.

"Is that an order?" Sam asked calmly…but it didn't look like his little brother was the one in control at the moment.

"No…it's more of a friendly request." Dean answered through his teeth as he stared at the gun trained on his chest.

"Cuz I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders." Sam brought the gun up slightly so it was pointed more at Dean's head than his chest as he stared angrily at his older brother.

"I knew it…Ellicott did something to you didn't he?" Dean asked as he watched his brother closely for any indication that he was getting through the 'ghost whammy' that that bastard Ellicott had put on Sam.

"For once in your life just shut your mouth…" Sam ground out through clenched teeth, his anger nearly vibrating through his body as he looked at his brother, the gun dipped a little so it was back to chest level.

Dean's eyes widened to the size of saucers as he saw the expression on his brother's face and that the gun that was pointed directly at his chest…there was no way. Sam wouldn't shoot him…not even with the rock salt that was their current ammunition. "What're you gonna do Sam? The guns filled with rock salt…it's not gonna kill me."

The look of certainty on his older brother's face faltered and faded all together as he squeezed the trigger…Sam watched with a sense relief…and almost glee…as Dean was knocked backwards from his chair, the momentum taking him through the thin plywood door. He landed with a loud 'Umph…' his head cracking loudly against the concrete. His body going completely still immediately after hitting the floor…knocked unconscious.

Sam smiled and stepped forward looking at his handy work. "No…but it'll hurt like hell." He said simply. He watched as Dean started moving a few moments later, his head rolling to the side as he coughed loudly, bringing his hands to his head. There were pieces of plaster and dirt caught in his blonde hair and a thin stream of blood trickling from one ear as he looked up at his brother…the blatant betrayal in his green eyes was so plain that Sam felt his rage gather even more energy.

"Sam…we gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this'll be over…you'll be back to normal." Dean managed through gritted teeth as he tried to focus around the pounding in his head. And the unbelievable knowledge that his little brother had just 'shot' him with rock salt…at point blank range.

"I am normal…I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean why're we even here Dean. Cuz you're following dad's orders like a good little soldier…oh wait, that's right he left your worthless ass…" Sam gestured toward Dean's splayed body with the shot gun and then to his own temple in emphasis. "I have a mind…I'm not pathetic like you…and I've got two good legs. What've you got Dean…Hunh? Nothing. You are nothing…daddy's blunt little instrument. Even he knew how worthless you are Dean… You're nothing but an obedient little soldier, always doing exactly as you're told! But you can't think for yourself Dean…and now…well you're just a tiny twisted piece of the hunter you used to be… "

"Sam…this isn't you talkin…" Dean said softly. His own heart was breaking a little more with every venom filled word that was spat out of Sam's mouth in hatred. Dean had never even suspected that Sam had so much hatred for him buried inside himself.

"Shut up! " Sam cried as he stepped forward and pointed the shot gun at Dean again.

The same brother that he'd beat up bullies for, given up the last bowl of every box of cereal that they had as kids, that he had defended to their father…and finally that he had taken the beatings for…when Sam's choice pissed off their father…all so that Sam wouldn't have those awful memories. The hatred that was blasting out of Sam's normally jovial eyes was cutting Dean to shreds internally. He'd never known that Sam felt that way…he knew that their father thought he was a waste of perfectly good oxygen…but it had never occurred to him that his brother might be thinking the exact same thing. He brought his hand up to rest on his chest as the wounds from the multiple pieces of imbedded rock salt burned painfully. But they were nothing compared to the tattered remains of his heart.

Dean tried to assess the damage, he figured that he probably had a couple of bruised ribs…maybe a broken one and definitely a concussion since he was having a hard time focusing on what was happening right in front of him. "Okay…" he pulled his Taurus from his belt and held it up to Sam, watching as his brother pointed the shot gun more forcefully and then thinking better of it…dropped his gun and reached for Dean's pistol. Taking a clean aim at Dean's head.

"You hate me that much? You think you can kill your own brother? Then go ahead…pull the trigger…" Dean's voice was soft and resigned as he stared up at his baby brother." He watched with a sinking heart as Sam re-gripped the gun and then immediately pointed it more forcefully at Dean's head. "

Sam shifted his weight forward so the gun was less than two feet from Dean's face. Dean's expression shifted to one of complete acceptance, his eyes tracking Sam's movements.

"Do it!" Dean yelled and then visibly flinched, his eyes reflecting his soul rending disappointment and betrayal, when he heard the hammer slam home as Sam pulled the trigger not just once but four times…four distinct attempts at fratricide. Dean watched with a shattered heart as Sam stared at the gun in complete confusion.

It was Dean's gun and that thing never jammed, not in all the years that they had hunted with their father.

Dean used the distraction and grabbed for the gun with the last of his remaining strength, then he pulled Sam's surprised body toward himself, slamming his fist into his brother's face. Sam caught Dean's knuckles on his chin and was immediately out cold, his heavy body collapsing on top of Dean's smaller frame.

Being pinned to the floor by his enormously heavy little brother wasn't anywhere close to Dean's idea of a happy ending. He pushed with reserves of strength that he dredged up from god knows where, finally rolling Sam off to the side.

"Man…I'm not gonna give you a loaded pistol…" Dean said, his normally sarcastic tone shining through unintentionally, as he looked for his damn wheel chair. He finally saw it on the other side of the smashed door. "Damn-it!" he swore as he pulled his pain racked body across the cold concrete floor, his chest burning with every inch he gained, the rock salt jamming deeper into his abused flesh. After what felt like days he was finally able to reach for his chair, he grabbed a hold of the metal wheel, pulling the chair closer, then shifting his fingers to the armrests and pulled himself into the waiting contraption. Dean grunted in agony as white hot pain went shooting through his chest; he could feel the shift of the rock salt and the tickle of blood as it seeped from the larger holes, dripping down his chest only to soak into the waistband of his jeans.

Dean rolled around his unconscious brother; as he shifted himself in the chair, leaning down to check Sam's pulse…which was strongly thrumming along. Thank god.

"Sorry Sammy…" Dean whispered as he moved away from his brother's prone body and toward the hidden room. He looked around the place seeing a few places that would have been large enough to hide a body. As he reached the white metal cabinet, he thought he felt something whoosh past his back; he spun his chair and scanned the room for anything unusual. Although that's kinda relative considering that we're hunting a ghost. He thought.

Dean didn't see anything, but he was too well versed in the supernatural to believe that 'if you can't see it…it isn't there.' He inhaled deeply and then turned back, reaching out to pull open the doors, he saw tufts of hair sticking out of the corner…Gotcha…you bastard! He thought as he reached for the salt and the lighter that were in his bag on the back of his chair. He sprinkled the salt over the body, holding his nose with one hand trying to avoid breathing in the intense stench that always surrounded a decaying body. He felt the bile travel up his throat and threaten to spill itself all over the dirty floor. He bit it back down…he could throw up when the job was done. Sam needed him to take out this son of a bitch…he had to save Sammy…

"Oh…that's just gross…Soak it up…" he said as he poured lighter fluid onto the body, striking his lighter just as he felt that strange 'something' again. He was just turning his head when two hands shot out and knocked him out of his chair again…they were trying to latch onto either side of his face.

"Don't worry…I'm gonna make it all better…" The ghost was pretty hideous, it looked as though the patients had given the good doctor a lobotomy of his own before they killed him and stuffed the body in the metal cabinet. Dean thrust his hands up and pushed at the ghost's arms, trying to loosen them from his face. Dean struggled, his chest burning with pain and the lack of the use of his legs making him want to just give up…but he couldn't…Sam…gotta save Sammy…

He felt his fingers slip across his lighter; he pulled his hand back and finally grabbed the little silver lighter. Dean flicked it open and turned his head as he struggled with his other arm with the ghost; he struck the lighter and tossed it onto the corpse. He watched with tremendous satisfaction as Ellicott sat back, held his hands up and started to turn to ashes in front of Dean's eyes. When it looked like the ghost might actually 'explode' Dean pulled himself into a small ball and watched through his fingers as the ashes fell and broke apart on the cement floor moments later, instead of exploding.

He glanced over at Sam, grateful to see that his little brother was starting to regain consciousness…because, otherwise, they were going to be down here until he did. It's not like Dean could carry his brother's heavy ass out of this Asylum. "You're not gonna try and kill me are ya?"

Sam's face was confused; he was holding his chin open in pain from the blow Dean had landed there earlier. He held his hand up to his face as he came into a seated position, "No." he said as he tried to pull the disjointed memories together. He watched as Dean again hauled himself back into his chair, a groan of pain escaping as he settled once again into the chair and turned so he was looking at Sam.

"Good…cuz that'd be awkward." Dean said as he concentrated on breathing through the pain that was shooting through his entire body.

Sam didn't know what to say…he remembered everything. Every horrible, awful thing that he'd said to his brother…he had a clear recollection of…and he'd never been more ashamed or carried more self-loathing than he did at the moment as he watched Dean roll toward him and reach to help him to his feet. Dean then leaned over and grabbed his pistol from the floor, setting it on his lap he started rolling out of the room. Sam bent over to pick up his rock salt gun and followed along slowly, his brother leading them out of the old hospital. The two kids had already left ahead of them, after Dean had told them to 'stay out of haunted asylums'…they'd both agreed whole heartedly.

As they got back to the Impala, Sam looked over the front of the car at his brother, "Dean…I'm sorry. I said some really awful things."

Dean glanced up, pulling his hand from his chest to open the passenger door…he didn't think he should drive…not with a concussion. Not to mention the fact that he was having a hard time focusing his thoughts…they kept wandering. "You remember all that?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it…any of it."

Dean cocked his head and his lips twitched. "You didn't huh?" He didn't believe that for one second…there was no way that Sam didn't mean it…those feelings had come from somewhere. The ghost didn't create ideas; he simply removed the filter and allowed the anger to surface in all its raging glory. All those ideas…they had come from somewhere deep inside his brother, and he'd meant every damn word of it.

"No, of course not….do we need to talk about this?" Sam asked as he saw the look on his brother's face. Dean didn't believe him…he could see it plainly written on his older brother's face.

Dean raised his eyebrows, slammed his wall into place and settled himself into the car, folding his wheelchair and watching as Sam walked around to put it in the back. "No…I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep."

XXXX

Sam tried to get Dean to take the first turn in the bathroom once they got back to the motel…but in the typical fashion of his selfless older brother…he had refused and told Sam to go ahead. Sam had crawled under the spray of the hot water, he had allowed it to cascade over sore muscles and tried not think of the look on his brother's face when he'd shot him…shot him! Sam had shot his brother…at close range with rock salt…Sam felt his knees buckle as that memory slammed into his head. He'd remembered saying all that horrible crap to Dean…but he hadn't remembered shooting him. He felt the tears spill hot and fast down his cheeks, he took about two minutes to try and pull himself together before he was reaching up to turn off the water and scrambling out of the shower to grab a towel. He quickly threw on his boxers and a pair of jogging pants as he rushed from the bathroom scanning the motel room for his brother.

"Dean?" he called into the dim room.

He heard a muffled groan from the bed closest to the wall; he rushed over and looked at Dean lying on the bed, his chair pushed up against the wall. Dean's hands were clutching at his chest in obvious pain and there was a thin sheen of sweat glistening off his forehead. "Dean!" Sam cried as he flipped on the lamp next to the bed, he leaned over Dean and couldn't help but notice the blood that speckled his dark grey t-shirt, which explained why he hadn't noticed it before, and had soaked into the waistband of his jeans. Sam reached out to gently feel Dean's forehead for signs of fever and didn't have to get close to feel the heat rolling off his brother. He could see the way Dean's eyes were shifting back and forth quickly beneath his closed eyelids.

"Damn-it Dean! Why can't anything ever be easy with you?" Sam said in exasperation as he sat down near his brother's hip and gently pulled the soiled shirt up…getting his first good look at the damage that he had caused. Dean's chest was a multi-colored spectrum of purples along with still un-dissolved pieces of salt imbedded in the bloodied wounds. Sam sat back and brought his fist to his mouth as his emotions threatened to over whelm him again…God…I did this to him…He swallowed and then steeled his nerves to deal with his brother's obvious injuries.

He stood up and walked back to the bathroom removing several washcloths and wetting a bunch of towels…he also grabbed the emergency first aid kit and walked tiredly back into the room to deal with Dean. He hadn't even sat down before Dean's head rolled from side to side and he started mumbling…things that Sam couldn't hear clearly…but that sounded like 'No dad…I'm sorry…I tried…Sorry I'm not Sam…' Sam stopped cold in his tracks and stared at his brother in disbelief. He couldn't' have heard that right. Dean, we are soooo having a long talk when you wake up. He told himself. Sam closed the distance sitting down quickly and pulling his brother's dirty t-shirt off as carefully as possible. He wasn't quite prepared for the numerous white scars littering his brother's torso…he'd known that Dean had gotten hurt on several hunts when they were kids…but he'd never thought that it had happened this often.

There were white lines criss-crossing Dean's chest…almost like someone had marked him intentionally. That he had been hurt on purpose…Sam was pulled from his musings as Dean's eyes suddenly stopped moving and his brother's upper body went rigid in what Sam could only describe as a seizure rocketed through Dean.

"DEAN!" Sam called frantically as he tried to keep Dean's head from smashing into the headboard.

TBC…

Author's Note: So cliff hanger I know…they suck. But It will get the next chapter up quickly and I did warn that this chapter would veer off course with the episode, because of Dean's wheel chair issues. So I'll hurry. If you're worried that Dean is going to turn into some kind of victim in this fiction, don't be...I wouldn't taint the amazing characterizations that Jensen Ackles has brought to that character that way. Dean's a strong character that has to deal with this shitty situation and most of that will happen internally...just like it does in the series.

Please Review: It'll make me write faster…promise.