Summary: Post Season 9 speculation. Sam ends up in the hospital and truths come out. Outsider POV

See end for Warnings

A/N This is how I cope with the season finale. Spoilers for Season 9 Finale and most of the series.

I do not own supernatural nor any characters depicted in it. I also only have cursory medical knowledge, so forgive any errors.


I was five hours into my shift when he walked in. Oh rather was carried in. The orderlies placed him on the bed and got him settled before signaling to me that it was my turn and left the room. It had been a quiet night so he was the only patient in the room. I walked over with the false nonchalance acquired by working in the psychiatric wing of the hospital.

"Hello, Mr.…" I quickly searched the chart. "Winchester." The tall man before me blinked in recognition, and if I wasn't mistaken, surprise. I got my first good look at the man; He was a fine specimen with beautiful hazel eyes that shifted with the light if a little too gaunt to be healthy.

"Can you tell me why you are here?" The answer was written on his chart and the needle marks on his arms, but I wanted to see how much work I had to do. His chart noted that he was suffering from extreme blood-loss and sleep deprivation but little else.

He gave a deep sigh that made him collapse into himself; so complete was his momentary collapse I could have sworn the giant of a man was transformed into a boy of ten for a second. Before I could cave into those puppy dog eyes, he started talking.

"It's about these, right?" he said, gesturing to his arm, "Would you believe me if I told you it's not what it seems?" I just stared him down, I had heard that before.

He made an aborted move with his arm, but the restraints stopped it and gave a halfhearted chuckle. "No such luck it seems." He muttered to himself. Then he straightened his back and his eyes went blank, "It was a moment of weakness it won't happen again. I have so much to live for and I realize that now. I thank you for your concern and efforts. I could've have done it without you." He said it with almost perfect intonation; the right mix of shame, regret and begrudging hope. If I hadn't seemed him with his defenses down I might have bought it hook line and sinker.

It's what every good psychiatrist wants to hear, but the blank eyes and the rather rote recitation let me know the man before me knew what was expected of someone that found himself under suicide watch.

I sighed, I hated the hard cases. They couldn't be talked down with reminders of how much good life had to offer because more often than not, life didn't have anything particular good to offer them and they knew it. They tell you never show your own doubts to a patient and I could tell by the slight pitying look he shot me I had failed to do that.

Stiffening my spine and softening my eyes, I prepared to try to save someone uninterested in his own salvation. Just as I was gearing up to speak there was a commotion in the hall distracting both of us. Before I could react, a tall man came barreling into the room frantically scanning for something he must have found as soon as his eyes lit on my patient he immediately wedged a chair against the door. After ensuring that he wouldn't be interrupted did he deign to look at me with narrowed suspicious eyes as if I were the intruder here.

My first look at him was a mess of contradictions, He was a handsome man with almost soft features but with eyes of hardened jade. His clothing was in good conditions but blood spattered. In other words he looked the definition of a mad man. I moved instinctively between this stranger and my patient.

Then I heard a whispered "Dean?" from behind me. That note of recognition was disconcerting because it was laced with hope not fear or resignation. That word was the first truly hopeful and sincere thing the man behind me had said since he had been there.

The madman in the leather jacket softened at the word and I disappeared again as he looked through me to the man struggling to sit up.

"Heya Sammy." He crossed the space between him and Sam in seconds. I was pushed aside without a thought into the periphery of both the room and their consciousness. I should have screamed, rushed the door, let security know the man was in here armed and dangerous. I could hear them looking, but my suriosity to unravel the mystery of these two men rooted my feet to the floor.

The human mind had always fascinated me which is why I volunteered here on my days off. I justified my stay with the mental acrobats only a psychiatrist has and made myself unobtrusive as possible; settling in the shadows and carefully keeping still.

In the time it took me to get settled Dean had made his way to Sam's bed, he didn't look like a Sammy to me. Sam was still hooked into an IV and was struggling to sit up despite the restraints. Though on second look it seemed Sam had already freed one arm and was making good progress on the second judging by its slackness. Dean gently lifted his brother into a sitting position, "I told you I could carry you little brother" he chided. The affection that laced that declaration eased my remaining fears for my patient momentarily.

Sam let out a weak chuckle. His mask was down and looking at him now I saw the little brother that Dean did. He was weak, and now that he was no longer pretending, he looked it.

"What were you thinking?" Dean demanded, anger coloring his tone.

Sam chin went up and his eyes filled with a strange mix of stubbornness and annoyance as stared his brother down. "You were dying; I did what I had to."

"Isn't that my line" Dean weakly joked. The angry glare that Sam sent his way told both Dean and I that Sam was far from being in a joking mood about it.

"Well you did it little brother, if you had some salt I could prove it to you right now. " His tone was light but his eyes were deadly serious. Sam's eyes got wide and moist; before I could blink away my own tears, Sam had pulled Dean down to bury his face in his shoulder and sob. I expected discomfort and/or grudging acceptance of his little brother's display, but instead Dean held on just as tightly and smiled. It was a strange smile, I haven't seen its like; it was filled with sorrow and even regret, but overwhelmingly with love.

As the brothers embraced, security reached our door and after trying the handle called in to see if I needed assistance. It would be so easy to remove the chair and let them in, while I knew my patient was safe with this man, I couldn't say the same thing for myself. I looked back from the door to see two sets of eyes on me, one resigned and the other pleading. If I had thought Sam's eyes were compelling before, they were downright impossible to withstand now.

Without a thought I found myself moving the chair and opening the door and blocking the brothers from sight. I assured the security guard that the door knob had gotten stuck and all was fine in here. Luckily for me and the brothers, I was far from petite and could easily block them from sight; no matter what I said, Dean's blood spattered coat would have had them barging in if they had seen it. I could tell Charlie didn't believe me, but since he also had a crush on me, he wasn't willing to risk falling from my good graces; so he just shook hid head and led the security team to the next door. After they left and I was able to close the door I collapsed against the door, sliding down until I hit the cold linoleum. I was far from a rebel and that lie was by far the most daring thing I had ever done.

As soon as the threat was over, the brothers had turned back into the world of two. Sam had let go but Dean remained crouched protectively over him.

"So Sammy ready to hit the road and head home?" Sam nodded and began removing the IV and undoing the remaining restraints with startling efficiency.

With a new sense of courage from my daring lie boiling in me, I heard myself demand:

"Why are you here Sam?"

My voice rang oddly in the room, almost painfully discordant, but I kept Dean's dark stare until he gave in and turned to Sam.

"Want to answer the lady?"

"Its complicated Ma'am, I can swear to you that I was not trying to kill myself nor am I relapsing junkie, I just wanted to save my brother and I wasn't as careful as I should have been". It was vague and I had a feeling I didn't want to know more but I still had one more question, one I had to ask to ever look myself in the mirror again.

"Maybe this time, but you have been on suicide watch before, haven't you Sam? I've seen the scars; the ones on your arms and your neck. " I asked as delicately but as pointedly as possible as I had a niggling feeling that Sam's answer would be a revelation to both me and his brother.

Sam shifted uncomfortable I could almost see when he decided to deny it all, but then Dean looked at his brother with devastated eyes and asked "You haven't, right Sam?" Sam might have been able to lie to me and probably usually could have lied to his brother, if only to protect him from unpleasant truths, but he was weak and emotionally drained so he crumbled. It hurt to see. The devastation revealed in those brilliant hazel orbs would have knocked me to my knees if I was already literally floored by my own daring.

Sam looked at me as if he couldn't bear to look at his brother. "I have been here, well not here here but um in this situation before. The last time was a couple years ago, my brother had been...MIA overseas and presumed dead." Dean flinched and I didn't call Sam on the lie in that sentence, I was too afraid to interrupt.

"I will admit I was a junkie once, but that was years ago and I have been clean for almost five years now. During one of the time the devil on my shoulder dared me to try and I was too weak to resist and believed his lies about a better world without me. It was only a momentary thing and once my brother got me I never listened to that devil again." Dean almost growled at Sam's revelation and I had a feeling that I was missing something. Dean's hand tightened from its position on Sam's shoulder before sliding down to pull up the sleeves of the gown and trace the scars with tumultuous recriminating eyes.

"The other times, well you see I have PTSD and sometimes it just get too much, but it's better now I swear. I haven't had a full on episode in months even years. "He finished with pleading eyes asking me to let it go. I knew I was hearing half the story, if that, but from the wounded look in both brothers eyes I knew that the full story was too private even for a a newly daring psychiatrist. So I nodded and shakily got to my feet. I should have kicked Dean out and scheduled Sam for intensive therapy; he had revealed more than I expected, and someone with that kind of record should not be left unmonitored, but I just couldn't.

"I will get your paperwork sorted. Give me fifteen minutes and you are free to go." I didn't give them time to respond before I shut the door behind me and let the tears I kept in flow. I couldn't quite figure out why I was crying I have heard stories of abuse that still keep me up at night, but the horror and hurt in those hazel eyes told me a story far more devastating than I had heard before. As I was gathering my thoughts I heard Dean's voice shout, " How could you Sam?" The anger in his voice scared me enough I opened the door enough to hear something I wasn't supposed and still can't fully comprehend:

"How many times could I have lost you? How many times did Lucifer save you before you stopped?"

" I don't know Dean. I just wanted it to end without taking the world with me. I swear I never deliberately tested his promise after that night."

"What about the PTSD episodes, SAM?" I could hear the strange emphasis he placed on the words.

"It was never intentional. Just sometimes I was so tired and he was always there making me remember, I just didn't care enough and continuing existence wasn't high on my priorities list. "

"Well it damn well should have been. I said it once and I will say it again there is nothing that comes before you, nothing. Screw the Devil, Hell Screw the world. Its not worth it, let it burn. Please tell me you believe me? Please Sammy."

" I'm trying to, but Dean remember it goes both ways. I can't lose you again. If I have to let you go, you will not go without me, I will die first because there's nothing left for me with you gone. That's what Purgatory and Hell and even Heaven taught me. Promise me that and I will promise to keep trying for you."

"Its you and me Sammy."

"Okay then."

A responsible doctor would have barged in there and preach the ills of what was essentially a suicide pact, but I just closed the door and let it be.

I watched them walk away fifteen minutes later, the older supporting the younger and I smiled, because no matter what they had been through or will go through in the future, they will be together.

Warning: discussion of suicide and past attempts

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