The day that both Sam and Dean had been dreading finally arrived. It was the day that Sam was going to the doctor's to get his stitches removed. It would be the first time, since they arrived at Bobby's, that Sam had stepped outside. Dean felt that he should be thrilled that Sam was getting out into the world again, but his brother still seemed so scared of everything. Dean almost decided not to go. Almost. But he knew Sam needed to see the doctor. Dean hoped that his brother would feel better once he had his stitches removed and he could take a real shower.

"Sam, we gotta go," said Dean. "Your appointment is for 10 and we don't want to be late."

Sam stood at the bottom of the stairs, with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his brown hooded sweatshirt, looking very much like a scared little boy. He wasn't ready for this. Please, don't make me do this, he thought.

Turning around, Dean saw that his brother was not moving. He walked over to Sam and gently grasped his arm. "Sammy?"

"Please, don't make me go."

Sam speaks to him for the first time in days and Dean felt his heart shatter at the words. "Sammy, I know you don't want to go, but we have to."

Not responding to his brother, Sam just stood there, his body trembling slightly.

"Sammy, I will be there with you the whole time. I swear I won't leave your side unless you want me to."

Safe, Sam always felt safe with Dean. If Dean was going to be there, maybe, just maybe, he could do this. Nodding his head slightly, he let Dean lead him out of the house.

Not wanting Sam to slip into his head again, Dean kept up a steady stream of conversation the whole ride to the clinic. It was one-sided, but at least it seemed to keep Sam's attention.

"Look Sammy, a Starbucks. Maybe, after your appointment, we could swing by and get one of those fancy schmancy mocha latte frapp things you like so much.


The Sioux Falls Medi-clinic was located downtown in a two story building that was once a warehouse, but had been converted into an office building in the nineties. It had a rather spacious waiting room and after signing Sam in, Dean found them a place to sit that was away from most of the other people in the room. They had arrived a couple of minutes early and Dean hoped that meant that they wouldn't have to wait long.

Less then five minutes later, a tall blonde haired woman, dressed in nurses scrubs and jacket with pinks hearts on it, stepped into the waiting room. "Sam Singer?"

Bobby had told the boys to use his last name and have the clinic send the bill to him. He'd take care of it. Dean had tried to protest, but Bobby insisted.

Following the nurse, Sam and Dean were lead down a short hallway to an exam room. After handing Sam a blue exam gown, the nurse left. Allowing Sam his modesty, Dean waited in the hallway until his brother had changed. After getting changed, Sam took a seat on the exam table while Dean took a seat in one of the two chairs in the room.

The room didn't look all that much different from other exam rooms the Winchesters had been in over the years. The walls were painted a soothing cream color. There was a poster extolled the virtues of not smoking. Also there was a framed lithograph of a Norman Rockwell painting. The one of the young boy, pants dropped reading the doctor's diploma on the wall.

The brothers weren't in the room long when the door opened and the doctor walked in. Her name was Susan Graham and she stood about five foot six with hazel eyes and curly brown hair that fell to her shoulders.

"Hi, Sam, I'm Dr. Graham." The doctor smiled at her patient.

Instead of responding, Sam turned his gaze to the floor.

"Sorry, Doc. My brother's not much for talking these days," said Dean.

The doctor nodded. "And you are?"

"Dean. I hope it's okay that I'm here. I told Sam I would stay with him."

"That's fine." Dr. Graham could tell that Dean's presence was what was keeping Sam from fleeing the room.

"I don't know if Dr. Spellman told you about us. He's the one that recommended you."

So these were the brothers that Jack told her about. "Yes, he mentioned you, but didn't give me any of the details."

"He didn't?" Dean had wondered if Dr. Spellman would call his friend and mention that they might come to see her.

"HIPAA regulations prevent us from sharing information on patients without their consent. Also, Dr. Spellman wouldn't violate doctor/patient privilege. He just said that he recommended me to a patient of his."

Dean nodded.

"Okay, I'm going to draw blood for the STD testing first."

After drawing blood, Dr. Graham called in a nurse and handed off the vial of Sam's blood so that it could be sent off to the lab for testing.

"It will take a couple of days to get the results and as soon as we have them, one of the nurses will give you a call."

Next the doctor checked Sam's wrists which looked a little red and puffy, so she instructed Sam to continue with the antibiotic ointment.

Then came the part of the exam that Sam had been dreading the most, the removal of his stitches. The doctor had Sam lay back and put his feet up in stirrups. She went about removing the stitches trying to be as gentle as possibles. Dr. Graham knew that this was bound to be a reminder of the horrible rape her patient suffered.

Seeing tears form in Sam's eyes and the way he was shaking ever so slightly, Dean moved in closer and picked up Sam's hand. Sam gripped his hand tight and Dean hoped that his presence would be able to ground his brother. However, after a few moments, Sam's gripped tightened even more and his breathing sped up. Dean could tell Sam was losing his battle to keep it together. I have to do something, but what? wondered Dean. Suddenly an idea struck him.

"Sammy, remember when you were six and your first grade teacher read Mr. Popper's Penguins to your class. Man, you couldn't stop talking about penguins for months afterward. Remember that stuffed penguin Dad bought for you? What did you call him?"

Dean's voice was soothing and it help to distract Sam from what the doctor was doing. "Captain Cook."

Sam spoke so softly that Dean almost didn't hear him. "Right, you named him after one of the penguins in the book. You carried him everywhere. How many times did you put him in the freezer because in the book, Captain Cook slept in the ice box. That stopped once I told you that he would get hypothermia and die if you kept doing that. You cried so hard after that I thought for sure Dad was gonna tan my hide."

Dr. Graham was in awe of the way that Dean was taking care of his brother. She knew, without a doubt, that if it weren't for Dean's comforting presence, Sam would be having a much harder time with having his stitches removed. She wished that all rape victims could have someone like Dean by their side.

Once the stitches were removed and the exam completed, Dean followed the doctor into the hallway so that Sam could have some privacy while he changed back into his clothes.

"Dean, I think these might be of some help," said Graham as she held out some pamphlets.

Accepting them with a grateful smile, Dean stuck them in his pocket. "Thanks for everything, Doc."

"You're welcome," replied Dr. Graham. "Your brother is very lucky to have you taking care of him."

"Thanks." Of course, if I had been taking better care of Sam, this wouldn't have happened in the first place, thought Dean.

On the way back to Bobby's, Dean stopped at Starbucks. Luckily, they had a drive-thru as the visit to the doctor had taken a lot out of Sam and he just wanted to be back at Bobby's. Dean ordered a mocha latte for Sam and a regular coffee for himself. For once Dean didn't tease his brother about his choice of beverage.


The moment they arrived at back at Bobby's, Sam headed to straight for the bathroom for a much needed shower. He turned the water up as hot as he could stand it. Once again, no matter how hard he scrubbed, Sam still felt dirty.

Forty-five minutes later, Sam emerged from the bathroom, skin rubbed raw. After getting dressed, he headed downstairs to find Dean sitting on the sofa half paying attention to a Jim Carrey movie.

"Hey, Sam. Did you have a good shower?"

Sam was silent as he sat down on the sofa. Grabbing the green throw blanket, he pulled it up to his chin.

"How about I bandage your wrists?" Dean had everything he needed to take care of Sam's wrists laid out on the coffee table.

Nodding his head, Sam pushed the blanket down. Pulling up the sleeves of his shirt, he held out his arms. Once his brother was done, Sam pulled the blanket back up to his chin.

"I'll be right back." Jumping up Dean ran into the kitchen. A couple of minutes later he returned carrying a bowl of chips and couple of drinks.

Sitting down, Dean placed the bowl and one of the drinks on the coffee table. The other drink he handed to Sam. "Here's your latte, Sammy. I heated it up for you."

Sam accepted the drink and took a small sip.

"Want some chips?" Dean wasn't surprised when Sam shook his head. His brother still wasn't eating much. "Sam, you did real good today."

"Not good." Sam spoke so softly that his brother didn't hear him.


"Not good. I'm not good."

Dean was confused. Was Sam saying he that he didn't feel good or was he saying that he was bad. The thought of Sam feeling that way about himself made Dean's heart clench. "Sammy."

"Don't wanna be good. Don't wanna be a good boy."

"Sammy, you are not a bad person. What happened to you doesn't make you a bad person. You are a good person."

"No. He said I was a good boy, such a good boy. Don't wanna be his good boy." Tears started to fall down Sam's face.

In that moment, Dean felt like his heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. Damn that bastard! Damn him to hell for what he did to Sam!

More to Come

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