Disclaimer: I own nothing that has anything to do with Supernatural or the characters, unless you count the DVDs. This is just for fun.

Hey folks! Two new fics in two days, go me!

I got a request from Samgirl19 for among other things, a fic about Sam with bipolar disorder.

For those who don't know what bipolar disorder is, here's a summary:

Bipolar disorder — sometimes called manic-depressive disorder — causes mood swings that range from of the lows of depression to the highs of mania. When you become depressed, you may feel sad or hopeless and lose interest or pleasure in most activities. When your mood shifts in the other direction, you may feel euphoric and full of energy. Mood shifts may only occur only a few times a year, or as often as several times a day. In some cases, bipolar disorder causes symptoms of depression and mania at the same time.

Although bipolar disorder is a disruptive, long-term condition, you can keep your moods in check by following a treatment plan. In most cases, bipolar disorder can be controlled with medications and psychological counseling (psychotherapy).


The Winchester family, John and his sons, twenty-two year old Dean and eighteen year old Sam were hunters of the supernatural, they saw the out of the ordinary every day, but the events of the following years were like nothing Dean or John had ever seen.

The first time it happened, Sam was in his final year of high school, and one day John was briefing his sons on the latest hunt he'd found when Sam did something completely unexpected, or rather he said something, "I love that word, knife, don't you love it? It's so great, words that have letters you don't say. It sounds so right, all wordy..."

Sam continued on rambling, Dean and John were too surprised to stop him.

But after listening to the youngest member of their family speaking complete nonsense, John shouted at Sam in frustration, they had already tried talking him out rationally, "Damn it, Sam! Shut up!"

Even that didn't deter Sam.

It took nearly an hour for Sam to settle, and then it was only because out of frustration John had crushed up a sleeping tablet, and slipped it into a drink, which Sam had gulped down.

The next time was a couple of months later, one morning Sam just wouldn't get out of bed, nothing Dean or John could say or do would make him move.

It went on for six exhausting weeks.

Then it was just before Sam was to graduate from high school, John was sitting at the table of the house he had been forced to settle down in as Sam's behaviour made him uneasy to move him around any more than needed.

He was going through the bills, gas, water, electricity, and finally the phone bill...

John ripped open the envelope and pulled out the paper. His eyes bulged out of his skull as he looked at the bill, which came in at over three thousand. "What the hell? This must be some kind of-" John was muttering to himself, but as soon as he flipped the page over to the bill summary, he was silenced.

It was five pages long. All bar three calls were 1-900 numbers.

"DEAN! SAMUEL! IN HERE NOW!!" John yelled at the top of his lungs, he hadn't made those calls, and he was damn well going to get answers.

Dean came running out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, Sam came out too, but he was much more leisurely, strolling out of the room he and Dean shared, and down the hallway.

To say John was fuming would be an understatement of epic proportions. He shook the bill in their faces, as he ordered, "Explain, now."

"What's going on, Dad?" Dean asked with question.

"I just got slapped with three grand worth of phone bill, and I know for a fact that it wasn't me who has been calling 1-900 numbers around the clock. And no one's going anywhere until I know who was calling phone sex numbers."

"I swear, Dad, it wasn't me. Anyway, how do you know they're..."

Dean had a point, and picking up the nearby phone, John dialled one of the numbers at random, and placed it on speakerphone just in time for a very seductive voice to resound through the room. Hanging up the phone, John questioned, "That proof enough?"

Sam was still in the clouds, he was staring up at the light, mesmerised.

Dean and John exchanged a meaningful look, they had known that something was wrong with Sam, and they were trying to figure out what to do about his bizarre behaviour, but this...

The kid blushed if he found Dean's magazines, the idea that their Sammy would have called a phone sex line was beyond their comprehension, let alone hundreds of times.

What was going on?

They got their answer two weeks later. Sam had taken to coming and going as he pleased, at all times of the day and night, despite John and Dean's efforts to stop him.

That night, when Dean had heard a knock on the door, he had thought that it was Sam, at least if he was at the door, he wouldn't be breaking another window to get inside, but when Dean opened the door, he saw two uniformed policemen standing on the doorstep.

"Good evening, sir. We are looking for John Winchester, we believe he lives here."
"I'm his son, can I help you?" Dean asked tightly, distrustful of the officers.

"Is your brother Samuel Winchester?"

"What's happened? Is Sam okay?" Dean's tone changes instantly.

"Sir, does your brother have any history of psychiatric illness?"

Dean was about to answer no, but then he remembered Sam's recent behaviour. "I don't know, he's been messed up lately... I swear he's gone crazy."

"Sir, your brother is at the hospital. He was found in the middle of the street, highly agitated and naked."

Their job done the officers left, and then John and Dean went to the hospital, they didn't rush, they both deeply cared about Sam, but after everything, they were hesitant to see him. What was happening to their Sammy? Where was that sweet kid they used to know?

John and Dean went to see Sam, but they didn't go into the room, he was screaming at the top of his lungs, and fighting against the restraints that the nurses had been forced to put him in for his own safety, they couldn't handle dealing with him in that moment.

Emergency room physician, Dr Simons treated Sam that day. After seeing Sam, John and Dean met with the doctor.

Dr Simons went straight to the point, telling John, "Mr Winchester, I am very sorry to have to tell you this, but we believe that from everything you've told us and what we've seen today, that Sam has bipolar disorder type one, I think that his recent behaviour is the result of a manic episode. With your permission we would like to admit him to the psychiatric unit."

John felt as though he'd just been sucker punched, he'd worked so hard to protect his boys, but when it came down to it, he couldn't keep them from harm. "Bipolar? No way, you don't know Sam, he's not, he can't be..."

"You can get another opinion if you wish. But please allow the admission, Sam needs specialized care, he could have been hit by a car today, until his condition is stabilized he needs to be in a secure unit."

"You want me to get my son committed?! No, not a chance!"

"Mr Winchester, I can't begin to imagine how difficult this must be for you. But it is in Sam's best interests to be cared for by professionals while he is very unwell."

John felt as though he had no choice, he committed Sam to the psychiatric unit. At first Dean had been furious with his father for doing it, but going to see his brother every day, seeing how out of control he was, he came to realise that it was for the best.

From the day Sam was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, the Winchester's lives were changed forever, it devastated John and Dean to know that their youngest was going to suffer going this potentially crippling mental condition for the rest of his life.

For Sam though it wasn't an illness, but a gift. He saw his energy, his creativity, his drive and focus as good things, and he couldn't understand why they weren't letting him be happy. Unaware that in reality he was out of control.

Sam refused to take his medications, he took the meds for the couple of weeks, but then when they started to bring him out of his manic state, he stopped taking them. Sure he would go to the medication counter twice a day, and put the pills in his mouth, and pretended to swallow them, but as soon as he left the counter, he would spit them out, then flush them down the toilet.

The staff knew what he was doing, they'd seen it all before, but they couldn't force him to take the prescribed medications.

Sam never went to groups; he spent his days out in the garden, dancing, singing, writing poetry, or painting, whichever he felt like at that moment.

But then he fell into a depressive episode, it was as though someone had flicked a switch. It happened while John and Dean were visiting, they were sitting in Sam's room, trying to talk to him while he was working on his latest masterpiece.

"We looked at another centre, in Missouri, they have a great program, the best psychiatrists, a high success rate," John told Sam.

Dean then added something that he knew Sam would be more interested in, "They have art programs, music sessions, all that sort of thing."

Sam ignored Dean as he put a pair of scissors through the canvas he was working on, suddenly bursting into tears, shouting out in despair.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered, "Sammy?! What're you doing?!"

"I'll go get someone."

After dinner that night, Sam acted on his thoughts, he couldn't stop himself, he didn't want to stop himself, he wanted to die, it felt as though nothing would ever be alright again.

John and Dean had reluctantly left when visiting hours ended shortly before dinner.

Sam numbly went into the bathroom, it was small, just the basics, a toilet, a hand basin, and a shower. He used the shower rail, it was secured to the wall, he took down the shower curtain, and fashioned a noose, which he secured to the shower rail.

He didn't even hesitate as he slipped the noose around his neck, he was tall, and the shower rail wasn't overly high, but that didn't stop Sam as he used his own body weight, pushing himself forwards to tighten the noose.

TBC... If you ask nicely