This is one shot based on a dream that I had. Obviously I don't own the show or the boys, but I wish I did. Reviews are encouraged to help make me a better writer. Anyways enjoy!
Set sometime in season 5.
Family Therapy.
"I hate this," the voice beside Sam grumbled, "this is a terrible idea," Dean sighed, "one of the worst ideas we've had in a while-"
"Can you stop, please?" Sam asked desperately, "if you have a better idea to investigate, I'm all ears," Sam added.
"Uh yeah, I have like a hundred," Dean replied, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the quiet rock music. "We could camp outside her house until she kills another family and then we could gank the son of a bitch," Dean suggested, shrugging. Sam just sighed, digging his fingers into his temples.
"You want another family to die? Isn't that what we're trying to stop?" Sam questioned, looking at his big brother. Sam was getting extremely frustrated with Dean. He never listened to anything Sam said, and he always thought that Sam's ideas were stupid. Dean just shrugged and stared back at the road.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Dean responded, "but this is pretty shitty, Sam," Dean complained.
"Listen, Dean. We have been researching this case for days, and we've ended up with jack shit. The only things we've found out is that the victims were all killed in families, and that only two of the families had Dr. Peter's for family therapy on record and some of the other families did therapy at this building too. It's the only lead we have, Dean. We just have to ask her some questions until it connects them all," Sam explained, annoyance running through his voice, "there were children, Dean-"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, sorry," Dean mumbled.
Sam saw the Impala pull into a parking lot to a big white building that Sam recognized as the therapy building. The two brothers got out of the car and walked up to the front door of the building. Sam stopped Dean before they walked in.
"Do not blow our cover," Sam started.
"Why would I blow our cover?" Dean questioned.
"You have to be open with this. Remember you and I are supposed to be struggling emotionally, with each other and ourselves," Sam stated.
"Great, I have enough emotional baggage for twenty other people. I think we're good," Dean retorted, beginning to move past Sam, towards the front door.
"Don't fuck this up," Sam warned him.
"Wow, calm down, Samantha. What's got you so stressed?" Dean mocked. Sam gave him an annoyed smile and followed his brother into the building.
The building was quite colorful on the inside. Sam guessed it was to help the mental health of patients, which was quite smart, but it didn't mean that Sam had to like it. There were colorful decals all over the walls, the furniture was bright, and even some of the walls were painted bright colors.
Sam looked at Dean and saw that he was squinting, as if he had just looked straight into the sun.
"If I had wanted a taste of the rainbow, I would've gotten a bag of skittles at that shitty gas station," Dean scoffed.
Sam laughed under his breath and Dean smiled brightly at his ability to finally make his brother laugh. Then Sam and Dean walked up to the front desk.
"Hello, we have an appointment with Dr. Peter's," Sam stated to the lady at the reception. She didn't respond to Sam at first because she was too busy making heart eyes at Dean.
"What are your names?" she questioned, never taking her eyes off Dean.
"Sam and Dean Winchester," Sam stated.
"Alright, Dr. Peters is in room 108," she told them.
"Thanks, sweetheart," Dean smiled, winking at the girl, and starting to walk down the hallway.
"You're annoying," Sam scoffed.
"Why? Because you don't have the experience to get bitches?" Dean retorted, smiling cockily.
Sam was taken aback, he didn't even know what to say. But, thankfully he didn't have to think about it because he was greeted with a female voice.
"Hello, Sam and Dean," a woman called from a room.
Sam and Dean walked into the room and was met with a cheerful but logical looking woman. She was tall and slender and moved gracefully. She had long black hair that was tied back into two braids and had kind, brown, doe eyes.
"Take a seat," she greeted, gesturing for them to sit at the couch that faced the large office desk but was far enough away to give them some personal space. Sam and Dean sat down on the couch right next to each other.
"Hello, my name is Dr. Peter's, and I have heard that you two have been having some issues lately?" she asked calmly, her voice filled with a tone of comfort Sam had only heard Dean use towards him. Sam was surprised that she had gotten straight to the point. He thought she was going to do some sappy introduction and activities for them to get to know her. He was honestly relieved that she didn't.
"Yeah, uh, we have. We've been fighting quite a lot," Sam told her, sticking to the details of the story that Sam and Dean had put together.
"And how do you feel about that?" she asked him. Dr Peter's eyes scanned over the two of them, like she was thoroughly examining them. It sent a chill down Sam's spine.
How did Sam feel about their fighting? That wasn't what he thought she was going to ask. He thought she was going to ask them what they had been fighting about and how they could fix it, but that wasn't the case.
"Well, I guess I feel upset," Sam responded, stumbling over his words.
"How about you, Dean?" she asked, turning her attention towards the older brother.
Dean looked at Sam, searching his eyes for an answer. "Yeah, I feel very upset," Dean told Dr Peter's, his voice a little sarcastic. Sam gave Dean a look to tell him to sound convincing. Sam looked back at Dr Peter's and saw her studying Dean, looking him up and down. She then looked down at her notebook and started writing things down. Dean glanced over at Sam and he swallowed nervously. Sam knew exactly what Dean was thinking, what was she writing about Dean?
"How often do you guys fight?" Dr Peter's asked them.
"Not a lot, but when we do it's bad," Sam replied, sticking to the story that they had created. But, to be honest it was pretty close to the truth of their relationship.
Dr. Peter's started writing more things into her notebook. Dean glanced back at Sam again. He shifted uncomfortably and searched Sam's eyes for what they should do next.
"Dr. Peter's, I have a question for you," Sam started.
"This is supposed to be about you two," she replied, not bothering to look up from her notebook.
"It's just a quick question. Did you know those families who were murdered?" Sam asked, his voice switching over to the tone he usually used for interviewing people as an FBI agent. Sam was leaning forward, in a way that was almost threatening.
"Yes. I knew two of the families," she responded after she had pondered the question, looking up from her notebook at last, "it was such a shame, they were lovely people," she sighed.
"Did any of the other families see any other therapists in this building?" Sam questioned, grilling for answers.
"I'm not sure, but enough about that. We're here to talk about you two," she deflected.
Sam sighed in defeat and decided he would push for information later in the session.
Dr. Peter's put down her notebook and looked at the two brothers.
"How much time do you two spend with each other?" she asked.
"We live together," Sam explained.
Dr. Peter's nodded and then asked another question, "have you two ever been separated?"
Dean visibly tensed beside Sam which caused Sam to frown and feel some sense of guilt.
"Maybe once or twice," Sam admitted, "I went to college for two years," he stated, "and one time Dean got really badly hurt, and I didn't see him for four months," Sam added. Sam heard Dean take a sharp intake of air.
"More like forty years," Dean mumbled under his breath, his voice quivering slightly, as he remembered his time in hell.
"But other than that, we stick together," Sam explained, his voice still thick with emotion because of the sudden upbringing of memories.
"And, Dean?" she started, studying the older brother, "how often were you left to care for Sam?" she asked.
"What?" Dean responded, taken aback. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, your body language directed towards Sam is very protective. I haven't even seen you take an eye off of him this entire time. It's almost as if Sam is your own son. This is very common in siblings who were left alone to care for the younger ones," Dr Peter's explained, giving Dean a sympathetic smile. Sam thought Dean was going to yell and scream or practically spit in disgust, but he didn't.
"Yeah, dad left me to look after Sam all the time," he started, his voice low, as if he didn't want to be heard. "I literally raised him," he added, his voice quieter than it was before.
"Alright, that's all I needed to know," Dr Peter's said, staring at both of them.
"Great, can we go now?" Dean piped up, speaking loudly for the first time in the entire session.
"No," she replied, "by your answers to my questions and your body language directed to each other, I've noticed something about your relationship," she started. Dean and Sam shared a questioning glance. "From what I can tell, I'd say you guys are codependent on each other," she explained.
Dean opened his mouth to say something but Dr. Peter's cut him off.
"Codependent siblings tend to blow up at each other more often because of how much you care for each other," she explained.
"We aren't codependent," Dean spat, laughing nervously. Sam joined in on the laughter. They weren't codependent. Or were they?
Dr. Peter's raised an eyebrow, "well from what I can see, you can easily understand and have full conversations with each other just through eye contact. And since you guys got here you have always retained some sort of psychical touch," she explained. Sam was now immediately aware that his knee was touching the outside of Dean's thigh, and they both moved away from each other.
"That's ridiculous," Dean laughed, shifting uncomfortably.
"Since you don't believe me, we will try an exercise. If you can complete it, I'll admit that I'm wrong," she replied, a smile on her face that Sam didn't like in the slightest.
Dr. Peter's stood up and gestured for the two brothers to follow behind her. Dean and Sam walked further away from each other than they usually did. Sam was now realizing that some of the things that Dr. Peter's said weren't wrong. Now that Sam thought about it, he and Dean always remained psychical touch. When they walked their shoulders usually hit each other and they usually sat with their knees touching or something to that extent. Were they codependent on each other? Sam didn't think so. He had been away from Dean for four months when he had gone to hell. Was that not enough? Sam knew he had been a complete mess and had wanted to end it all, but it was because his brother was dead. And if they were codependent, fuck anyone who thought less of them for it. They had been through too much together to let that bother them.
They followed Dr. Peter's into this hallway with two doors on either side.
"Are either of you claustrophobic?" she asked kindly.
Sam and Dean shared a curious glance, "no," the two brothers replied in unison.
"Okay, good," she started, "for this exercise you two will go into separate rooms and the doors will be locked. In order to pass the test you have to stay in the room for thirty minutes, do you guys understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," Dean replied with his normal amount of sass.
"Too easy," Sam added.
Sam and Dean then walked into the two different rooms that Dr. Peter's had indicated. She then closed Sam's door after whispering good luck to him, and he heard the lock click.
Sam looked up at a clock and it read 1:05. He would just have to be in this room until 1:35. He could do that.
Sam was completely fine for the first twenty minutes of the exercise. He sat and read one of the books on anxiety at the table, it was actually quite interesting. Most of the things Sam pretty much already knew. But he found out new ways to help someone with anxiety which he thought was kind of important.
But, after that first twenty minutes, dread started to make its way into Sam's stomach. He was wondering what Dean was doing. Was he okay? Was he panicking? Sam tried to reassure himself that Dean was alright, but he couldn't shake the feeling of dread. Sam knew that Dean was fine, and that he was probably just complaining in his head about how there isn't any food in the rooms. Sam found himself laughing at that thought, but little did Sam know that wasn't the case.
Sam continued reading one of the books on the table for five minutes, until he heard ragged breathing coming from the outside the door.
"Dean?" Sam called out, "are you okay?"
"Y-yeah, all good, Sammy," he replied, his voice shaking.
"Dean," Sam tried again, "what's going on?" Sam questioned, worry starting to seep into his voice as he heard Dean try to choke out words that he couldn't form. "Dr. Peter's let him out!" Sam screamed, when Dean didn't respond.
"Dean, you need to calm down. You're almost finished with the exercise," she said through the door. His breathing became more and more labored.
"Let him out!" Sam yelled.
"Okay," she replied, frantically. Sam heard the lock of his door click open. She then unlocked the room that Dean was in. Dean stumbled out of the room, and collapsed into Sam's arms, because his legs couldn't support his shaking body anymore.
"Sammy," he sobbed, taking sharp intakes of air.
"Why would you let that happen?!" Sam yelled at Dr. Peter's.
"I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't think it was that big of a problem," she replied, her voice monotone.
"Get the hell away from us," he warned. His voice was dangerous and Sam would make her pay for what she did to those families and his brother.
Dr. Peter's backed away from the two brothers and let them have their moment.
"Dean, you have to calm down," Sam stated, his voice breaking slightly.
"Sammy?" Dean choked out, as if he was just again realizing Sam was there.
"Yeah, I'm here Dean. I'm here," Sam reassured. Dean's breathing went closer to normal. His body then went almost limp against Sam's as he sensed he wasn't in any danger. He dropped his mask and let himself try and recover instead of trying to push himself to protect himself
"M'kay," Dean grumbled, his voice evening out a little bit. He sounded quite tired. Sam knew that these things always took the energy right out of Dean. But he hadn't had a panic attack since he was eighteen years old. Except that one time when his car had been stolen by Bela. Sam had been extremely worried when he had doubled over and his breath had caught in his throat. Thankfully. Bela had come to taunt them before it had gotten serious.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Sam said, determination and anger lacing his voice. Sam practically carried his older brother out of the therapy building and to the Impala. He carefully maneuvered Dean to sit in the back seat of the Impala, even though Dean insisted he could still drive. He could barely stand up by himself because he was so exhausted, there was no way in hell that Sam was letting him drive.
Sam got into the driver's seat and quickly drove to their motel. He told Dean it was fine if he fell asleep in the back of the car but Dean refused.
Once they got to the motel, Sam helped Dean out of the back seat and brought the complaining brother to his bed. Sam decided to ask one question before Dean went to sleep.
"Are we going to talk about what happened in the morning?"
"I'd rather not," Dean groaned, his face smashed into the pillow.
"What caused it?" Sam questioned, pressing for answers. He knew that if Dean was ever going to talk about it, it would be when he was vulnerable.
"Guess, I must be claustrophobic," he mumbled. Then his breathing evened out and Sam knew that he must have fallen asleep.
Sam sighed wearily and dug his finger nails into his temples. They were nowhere close to closing this case, and his brother couldn't even continue anymore. Well, Sam knew he could, but Sam wouldn't let him. He couldn't let the rest of Dean's remaining mental wellness be put to test. He wouldn't let Dean break himself over one case of murders. Sam knew it was selfish but his brother was all that ever mattered to him.
Sam collapsed onto the opposite bed, and started recalling the techniques he had used to help Dean with panic attacks when he was a little kid. Memories of when Dean had been at his lowest. These were the memories about Dean that Sam wished he never had to remember again.
Sam hadn't slept a wink all night. Around three in the morning he had stopped trying. Dean had been sleeping for a whole twelve hours, which was almost scary. Usually Dean got around two or three hours a night, while Sam was able to get around six hours of sleep. So, for Dean to sleep a whole twelve hours was almost frightening.
When Dean had finally awoken it was around seven.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Sam greeted, wearing his lips in an annoying smirk.
"Shut up, you're more of a princess than I could ever be," Dean groaned, taking his pillow and putting it in front of his eyes.
"Bullshit," Sam laughed, "you are so much more dramatic than I am," Sam empathized.
"Whatever you say, Sammy," Dean mumbled, taking the pillow away from his face. Sam would have started laughing if he was so mentally and physically exhausted from yesterday. Dean's hair was a mess and it was poking out at different angles.
"Wanna go out for breakfast? On me?" Sam suggested, hoping to relieve the stress of yesterday.
"Nah," Dean groaned, "can you pass me a beer?" he asked.
"Dean, it's seven in the morning," Sam stated, crossing his arms over his chest.
"It's happy hour somewhere," Dean responded, eyeing the mini fridge.
"I'm not giving you a beer," Sam said in an annoyed tone.
"You're such a baby, Sammy," Dean laughed roughly, standing up awkwardly, and crossing the room towards Sam.
Sam stood his ground and stood in front of it.
"So, is this what we're doing now?" Sam questioned, cautious of his brother's reactions.
"Doing what?" Dean asked, reaching towards the mini fridge.
"You're just gonna drink off what happened yesterday like it was nothing?!" Sam asked, raising his voice, and pushing Dean away from him. "You can't keep this away by doing that! You may be able to do that with your feelings, but this isn't something you can control and you know that!" Sam yelled, "I think Dr. Peter's was right, you rely on me too much!"
Dean stood there for a second, staring blankly at the younger brother. "You think I'm codependent?"
"Yes! We both are Dean! We can't do anything without each other! Dean, you sold your own soul for me, god damnit! I tried to kill myself when you went to hell! This isn't healthy!" Sam screamed, "we need help," Sam whispered, emotions coating his voice.
"I don't need help. Obviously you do, though," Dean snapped back.
"What are you talking about?" Sam questioned, feeling quite heated from the argument.
"After we get into another argument, are you gonna go find another demon and get hooked on blood again?" Dean asked, his face clearly showing that he thought he had won the argument. Sam's face contorted into a hurt expression.
"You know what? You're an absolute bitch," Sam replied, his voice dangerous. Dean furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at the ground. Sam knew he had hurt him, but he didn't care. "You're fucking needy, Dean! You always need me to hold your fucking hand! Grow up! You keep using that against me, when you know you've done worse! You can't keep your own emotions under control and you need me to keep you on the rails! I can't even take your shit anymore!" Sam screamed, instantly regretting everything he had just said. Dean looked down at his feet as if they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen.
Finally Dean looked up at Sam, his eyes glazed over, "let's just get this case over with, then we can go our separate ways if that's how you feel about me," Dean stated, his voice monotone. He turned around and grabbed their dad's leather jacket.
"Dean, god, I'm sorry-" Sam started.
"Leave it alone. Don't apologize when you don't mean it," Dean added, his voice shaking, facing his back towards Sam. He shrugged on the leather jacket and stormed past Sam through the door. Sam flinched when he heard Dean slam the door of the Impala.
Sam followed after him. He knew what he said was wrong and he didn't mean it entirely, but maybe Dean needed to hear that. Sam shook his head, cursing himself for being a jerk, and hopped into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean's eyes blazed as he started the Impala and drove away from the motel. They sat in silence, not saying a single thing to each other. They were both upset by what they had said to each other. Usually, when Sam was upset he would confide in Dean, but he knew that wasn't an option in this situation. Sam looked wearily at his big brother, and he could feel the rage emitting off of him. Sam felt guilty about what he had said to Dean, and he knew he should apologize but Dean didn't want to hear it. Sam knew he had hurt Dean and the tension in the car was almost deafening.
Trying to break the tension, Sam spoke up, "where are we headed?" Sam asked nervously.
"To Dr. Peter's, we have an appointment," Dean replied coldly, "we have to finish this case,"
"But, Dean, remember what happened last time-" Sam started.
"I know, Sam. I'll be fine," Dean snapped back, prompting Sam to shut up.
Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to calm himself down. But he couldn't shake the fear he had about going back to Dr Peter's. He didn't want Dean to freak out again, especially since they were fighting. But Sam had no choice because Dean was already pulling the Impala into the parking lot of the therapy building.
"Let's go," Dean grumbled. Sam nodded and jumped when Dean slammed the door of the Impala. Dean muttered a quick sorry to Baby for slamming the door before he stormed towards the door of the therapy building. Sam quickly followed his older brother, easily catching up because of his long legs. Dean walked up to the front desk and the girl was giving Dean heart eyes again. Dean only stared past her.
"We're here to see Dr. Peter's," Sam told the girl at the front desk.
"Sam and Dean Winchester?" she replied, never bothering to look at Sam.
"Yes," Sam replied quickly.
"She's in room 108," she said to Dean. Dean just brushed past her towards room 108. Sam quickly followed suit. Dean was starting to scare Sam a little bit. Sam could deal with angry Dean, when he yelled and screamed at Sam. Sam could deal with impulsive and reckless Dean when he was upset. But, he had no idea how to deal with a silent Dean. Dean usually had to be saying something. Yelling, or telling jokes, or talking just to fill the empty space. But now that Dean was dead silent, Sam was scared. Sure, Sam was pissed about what Dean had said to him but he would move on, but had what Sam said really hurt Dean's feelings that badly?
"Hello, Sam and Dean," Dr. Peter's greeted when the two brothers came into the room.
"Hello," Sam replied back, forcing a smile for her benefit. Sam sat down on the couch and frowned when Dean sat at the other end of it. Dean had his arms crossed over his chest in a gesture of protection.
"Did something happen between you two?" Dr. Peter's asked, clearly sensing the obvious tension. Sam swallowed nervously and looked at the side of his brother's face. Dean wouldn't even look at him. Both of them didn't answer Dr. Peter's question. "Dean? Did something happen?" she tried again.
"Ask Sam," Dean practically growled.
Dr. Peter's turned her attention towards Sam, "what happened, Sam?" she asked the younger brother.
Sam shifted anxiously until he remembered something. They're not actually here for therapy, they're here on a case. So, why did Sam feel so uncomfortable then? It was just a case. Sam didn't even know where to start until it hit him.
"After the exercise you put us through yesterday," Sam spat, venom coating his voice, "I tried to help Dean, but he's so stubborn," he continued, "he expects me to just leave it and not help him when he's obviously struggling. And I can't just watch him struggle, it hurts too much," Sam told her, feeling tears start to collect in his eyes, and staring at the side of his brother's face. Dean's jaw set and Sam watched his lip tremble slightly. Dr. Peter's expression softened and she nodded, encouraging him to keep going. "So, I said some things that I didn't mean, trying to get him to open up to me. But he's so damn stubborn and he thinks he has to suffer alone," Sam explained, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. "I don't know if it's because you hate yourself that much, or because you think you deserve to suffer alone. But, you need to stop," Sam begged. Dean's jaw set again, and he finally looked at Sam. His eyes were glazed over and his composer looked like glass, as if he was going to break at any moment. "Please, it's going to kill you. You don't deserve this. I don't deserve this," Sam explained desperately. Dean had a look of understanding on his face, or it was guilt, Sam couldn't tell. "You are always lying to me, and I can't take it anymore," Sam watched Dean's face contort into an angry expression once again. Sam had finally finished talking. He had nothing left to say.
But, Dean had one thing to say to Sam, "you should know a thing or two about lying," he said, before getting off the couch and marching out of the room.
"Dean-" Sam started to call out after his older brother.
"Let him go," Dr. Peter's said to Sam.
Sam collapsed onto the couch, and rubbed his face with his hands.
"Don't worry, he'll come back," Dr. Peter's told Sam.
"I know. He just needs to catch his breath," Sam explained, frustrated that his apology didn't get through to the older brother. Sam sighed wearily before he got interrupted by Dr. Peter's.
"Are you okay, Sam?" she asked.
"Yeah. I'll be okay," Sam replied instantly.
"Sam, is that really how you feel?" she asked him.
"No," Sam replied earnestly, "I feel frustrated. I'm frustrated that he won't tell me what's going on. I tell myself that he just needs to take a break or that he would feel embarrassed if I push him too hard. But I know it's all just excuses for how bad I'm failing him," Sam told her, looking anywhere but at her, and curling in on himself while he sat.
"You're not failing him, Sam," she started, "your brother is a hard case but you're doing the best that you can to help him, you just have to give him time," she continued, looking into Sam's eyes as if she was searching him for answers.
"Yeah, I guess-" Sam started, but got interrupted by the door knob turning and the sound of leather. Dean walked back into the room, looking a little less angry then he had before.
"Okay, let's get back to this. Get to the point, sweetheart, I don't have all day," Dean said to Dr. Peter's as he sat back down on the couch.
"Okay, well I was thinking that we should try the exercise that we did last time again," Dr. Peter's said.
"Absolutely not!" Sam objected immediately, "we are not doing that! There is no way-" Sam started.
"I say we do it," Dean said, interrupting Sam. Sam threw a worried glance towards his older brother but was met with an icy cold glare.
"Dean-" Sam started.
"I wanna try again," Dean stated, "and maybe after I can talk to Dr. Peter's privately?" he questioned, turning his direction to her.
"Of course, Dean. I'm glad that you want to try again," Dr. Peter's smiled. She stood up and started walking towards the door and both Dean and Sam followed suit. Sam quickly grabbed Dean's arm tightly, making Dean spin around to face his little brother.
"What are you doing?" Sam hissed.
"Solving this case," Dean spat, ripping his arm out of Sam's hold and turning sharply to continue walking down the hallway. Sam swallowed nervously. His brother was so unbelievably angry that it shook Sam to his very core.
Once they arrived at the two doors, she unlocked both of them and gave Dean a reassuring smile. "You boys know the drill. I'll come get you in thirty minutes," she smiled a cold smile before locking Dean and Sam in separate rooms.
As soon as the door was locked Sam began to panic. Was Dean going to be okay? Could Sam even help when Dean was this mad? Sam regretted everything that he had said to Dean so badly and he just wanted Dean to forgive him.
Sam paced back and forth in the room and listened intently to everything outside the door. He wasn't even sure if Dr. Peter's was still there. Sam was unbelievably stressed out and he should have never let Dean do this. By the time Sam was about to break down over stress he heard noise in the other room. Sam quickly ran to his door.
"Dean? Are you okay?" Sam questioned worriedly.
"Fuck off, Sam," Dean choked out, trying to sound strong. He was not okay and his breathing wasn't right.
"Shit," Sam muttered under his breath, "Dean, you need to calm down," Sam called out, "take nice even breaths," he added quickly, Sam's own anxiety practically bouncing off the walls of the room.
"I-I can't," Dean wheezed, an unknown tone of fear in his voice.
"Let him out!" Sam screamed, pounding his fists against the door, "let him out!" he continued to scream. But nobody answered Sam. Not a single soul. "Somebody help him!" Sam begged.
"Sammy?" Dean's weak voice sounded from across the hall, through desperate gasps of air.
"I'm here," Sam responded, "I can't get the door open," Sam hissed, pounding harder.
"It's okay," Dean reassured, his words slurring together, and his breathing becoming worse and worse.
"Dean! Stay awake!" Sam ordered. Sam knew that bad things would happen if Dean passed out in this state.
"Sammy," Dean said one last time before Sam heard the sound of a body drop to the ground in the next room.
"Damn it!" Sam screamed, backing away from the door, about to attempt to kick the door in. When a female voice chimed through the hallway.
"Aww Sammy," Dr. Peter's cold voice rang through Sam's ears, sending a shiver down his spine. "Isn't this unfortunate? Big bad hunter Dean Winchester is completely useless when he's cut off from his baby brother," her cold voice coating playful venom carefully over every single word, "who knew all it took to stop you two was keep you apart?" Dr. Peter's laughed hysterically.
"You bitch!" Sam screamed.
"I'm surprised you didn't suspect it was me, Sam. Maybe it was because you so desperately needed help with your brother that you'd believe anything?" she laughed, and her voice was right next to Sam's door now.
"So, this is your grand plan? To kill us?" Sam questioned, fear slowly rising when he could hear her breathing against the door.
"Oh no, no. I wish I could kill you boys. But Crowley is willing to give me something much more satisfying than getting the kill on the Winchesters," she stated.
"Crowley will never give you anything without consequences!" Sam screamed through the door, trying to get her to see reason.
"And why would I listen to a hunter who kills demon kind for fun? My own kind," she spat.
"So why did you possess Dr. Peter's to kill those families?" Sam asked, hoping Dr. Peter's would give Sam some information that he could use.
"To draw in you two, of course. To give you something to hunt without giving myself away completely," she replied, and Sam could practically see her smirking proudly at the other side of the door.
"Huh. Pretty smart for a black eyed bitch," Sam smirked, hoping to rile her up, "but I know most demon bitches like you are idiots so don't feel bad," Sam continued.
"What are you-" she started but Sam cut her off when he started chanting in Latin. She threw open the door to get Sam to stop, but that was exactly what Sam had wanted. Sam stabbed her in the chest with Ruby's demon-killing knife. She screamed in agony, and Dr. Peter's lifeless body dropped to the ground. But Sam didn't care about the body, the only thing he cared about was his big brother.
Sam swung his foot into the door to Dean's room but it wouldn't budge. He tried three more times until finally the door swung off its hinges. He quickly rushed to his brother's side.
Dean was pale and out like a rock. Sam shook him multiple times but Dean didn't move an inch. Dean's breathing was still abnormal even in his unconscious state, and Sam knew that this was serious.
"Dean!" Sam yelled, taking his brother's head in his hands and pulling him into his lap. When Sam pulled his hand away from Dean's head he was met with the sight of blood. Sam immediately paled when he saw the blood. "Fuck," Sam cursed. Sam looked around and noted that Dean had most likely hit his head against the desk to his right. "Dean?" Sam tried to shake his brother awake but Dean didn't even stir. "Come on, you gotta get up," Sam pleaded, holding his brother in his lap, and trying to hold back his emotions. His brother was alright. Dean was always alright. But that was a lie. Dean was never alright, he just always pretended he was alright. Sam didn't know anything else to do but pick Dean up bridal style, get him back to the motel and wait for him to wake up. Dean was a complete dead weight in Sam's arms, and Sam didn't realize how much muscle his brother actually had until he was knocked out cold. Sam managed to get back to the motel and he set his brother down on the bed as gently as he could.
Sam didn't know what to do. He wanted to sit next to his brother and break out in sobs. But he knew he couldn't do that. The least he could do was stitch up Dean's head, and just pray to God and every Angel he's ever encountered that his brother would be okay. Sam swallowed down his emotions and pulled out the med kit in the motel room and sewed his brother's head closed. After that Sam sat uselessly next to his brother, just holding his hand and praying. Praying like he had never prayed before.
"Dean. You've got to be okay. For me, okay?" Sam choked out, "please, I love you-"
"Woah, when did my life turn into a chick-flick moment?" Dean's weak voice interrupted Sam, squeezing Sam's hand despite what he was saying. And it was the best sound Sam had ever heard in his life.
"Dean!" Sam screamed, wrapping his arms around his big brother.
"What happened?" Dean asked groggily.
"You hit your head after you had another episode," Sam told him, still trying to swallow down his emotions.
Dean just nodded and didn't say anything for a while and just let Sam card his hands through the older brother's hair.
"I guess you were right when you said I was a little codependent," Dean laughed weakly, finally breaking the silence. "Yeah, maybe it's because I love you too," Dean added, and then quickly turned his head away from his little brother.
"Woah, when did my life turn into a chick-flick moment?" Sam laughed, squeezing his brother even tighter. Even though Dean's annoying comment was one of the best things Sam had ever heard before.
"Shut up, Sammy," Dean laughed slightly, returning his brother's embrace as tightly as his weak body would let him at the time. "Just don't leave me alone again?"
"Never again," Sam promised. And god did he mean it.