Just a little something I came up with during writer's block from another story I am writing (for an entirely different show...) I love Sam, and am one of these odd people who loves their favourite characters to suffer and cry, 'cause hey, it's cute! And apologies if there are some mistakes in my attempt at Americanisation... I'm Scottish but wanted to make the story American as that is where it is based :) It's a bit long, but Sam goes through a lot of shit! Hope you enjoy and don't worry Sam will be OK - he has Dean! ;)

Set during series 5 sometime (damn being British, I have only seen the first half of series 5 and won't find out what happens until September, really wanna know...). Reviews welcome, I am new to this writing malarky,

Disclaimer: I guess I should make it clear that I don't own any of the characters and these characters and many plot references are down to the wonderful creators of Supernatural.

Warning: Horribly cheesy ending, but it seemed fitting to end it chick flick style! :P

Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. It took almost all of Sam's strength to break the prongs off the plastic fork he managed to swipe from the prison canteen. He looked over at his snoring beast of a cell mate. The bastard had destroyed him, made him weak and pathetic. But not any more you son of a bitch. I won't let you have me anymore. Sam rubbed his finger along the ragged edge of the fork, and winced as it made a small incision on the tip. Perfect, Sam thought, that's sharp enough. Tears stung at Sam's eyes as he whispered into the air "I wish things didn't have to end this way. I'm sorry Dean. Goodbye." And with that, Sam dug the sharp plastic into his left wrist and made a deep incision up the length of his forearm. He repeated this motion on the right arm, the cut more jagged. He watched as the warm crimson liquid trickled onto the floor of his cell, feeling a sort of relief as the evil blood that flowed through his body was finally leaving. After what seemed like hours but could have only been a few minutes, Sam's vision became fuzzy and he was light headed. He desperately wanted to close his eyes and fall into the darkness, but it was as though his body refused to give up. He slumped to the floor into a puddle of his own blood, and eventually his body gave up the fight and allowed him to be swallowed by the ever growing darkness.


Sam wearily opened his eyes to be met by a white ceiling. He shivered, finding the place rather cold. Funny, thought Sam, I thought Hell was meant to be red hot flames, and blood and agony. He allowed his gaze to scan the room, a white cube with strange equipment. He tried to move to get a better look at the equipment, only to find he couldn't due to the restraints holding him to what appeared to be a bed. In his left arm he spotted a needle attached to a long tube and an IV bag. Ah, makes sense now, a hospital. Sam detested hospitals – they reminded him of death and suffering. Nothing good ever happened in a hospital. A fitting punishment really. He softly chuckled to himself, despite his growing terror. What did Hell have in store? What kind of sick torture would he have to endure? As he pondered his impending fate, he spotted a figure in the corner of the room.

"Hello Sam," the figure said softly.

"Huh? Castiel? What are you doing in Hell?" it only took Sam a few seconds to realise, "Oh hell no Cas, you ain't dragging me outta Hell! I'm done – you said yourself that Dean was the one that had to stop the apocalypse, not me, I can't do shit! All I was meant to be was Lucifer's vessel, and I refuse to be brought back to let that happen!"

"Sam, you're not in Hell." Castiel seemed sincere.

"What? But I can't have gotten into heaven, surely God would never allow that after all the horrid stuff I have done –"

"Sam, you are not dead. You were found in time. Besides, even if you had died, you know Lucifer would have just brought you back."

Sam groaned. "You have got to be kidding."

Castiel looked confused. "Why would I be kidding?"

"Figure of speech Cas. OK so I am alive. That still doesn't explain why you're here."

"Dean's been looking for you and asked for myself. I have to say Sam you are a hard one to find."

Sam laughed, "yeah right, sure Cas. Now tell me why you are really here." Castiel said nothing, instead just raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Last time I spoke to Dean, he said he never wanted to see me again. He didn't trust me after I went off with Ruby to kill Lilith, and he is convinced I am still on the demon blood and will go dark side. In fact, he is convinced I'm gonna say yes to Lucifer and he'll have to kill me."

"I'm just the messenger. But despite what you think he is looking for you. He's worried."

"Worried I've gone dark side?"

"No. Worried for your safety."

"Well you can tell him I'm just peachy. I've been locked up for a crime I didn't commit and can't kill myself properly so I ain't dying on him. All in all everything is great!" Sam immediately detected the bewilderment on Castiel's face "Sarcasm Cas. You really have to learn that."

"Right. Oh about your incarceration – I overheard some police officers outside: apparently another murder happened and they caught the guy who did it. Seems the evidence brings them to conclude he commit the murders you were arrested for, so as soon as you came to they were going to officially release you. Of course they won't return your weapon bag..." Castiel paused as he saw the rage on Sam's face.

"WHAT? They're releasing me? FUCK! If only I had thought to wait a couple more days, I wouldn't be stuck in here with your ugly mug!"

Castiel seemed to ignore the insult. "So... it was prison that made you attempt suicide?"

"I'm not talking about it. Look, just tell Dean all is well. If he wants to see me, he's welcome to, but I'm not expecting a happy family reunion." And with that Sam turned his back on Castiel (or at least partially as his movements were somewhat restricted because of those damn restraints). The angel promptly disappeared from the room.


Dean almost dropped his coffee as Castiel appeared in front of him. "Fuck! Cas you scared the shit outta me!"

"Sorry." Castiel stared at Dean, who was rather uncomfortable.

"Uh... Cas? Remember, personal space?"

"Oh right, sorry." The angel took a couple of steps backwards. "I found Sam."

"Oh thank God! Where is he? Is he all right? BOBBY! Cas found Sam!"

"Well that's a relief!" the old man sighed as he wheeled his way into the room. "So where is that boy?"

"St Catherine's hospital in Virginia." Castiel replied solemnly.

"Hospital?" shrieked Dean. "Is he OK?"

"Physically he's fine. But emotionally he isn't doing well."

"What happened?"

"He..." Castiel paused for a moment, not sure how to tell Dean the news. "Dean, he tried to kill himself."

This time Dean did drop his coffee. Castiel jumped and Bobby jolted as the mug smashed on the floor. "SHIT!" Dean cried, "Oh what have I done? I made my little brother –"

"It wasn't because of you Dean." Castiel interrupted. "Something happened while he was in prison, but he wouldn't tell me. I had hoped someone else knew, but apparently no one knows what caused his... depression. But he said that he wouldn't have tried to kill himself if he had known he was being released from prison the next day. So it can't have been because of anything you said."

"Wait, woah there a minute, prison?"

"Yes. Seems Sam had gone to investigate a series of murders to see if there was anything Supernatural going on. Turns out it was just some serial killer – a human – but while Sam was leaving one of the crime scenes he was caught by a policeman. They searched his bag and found the weapons, put two and two together and threw him in jail. It wasn't until they had to find evidence to get a proper conviction that they realised he wasn't guilty. Took 2 whole months though..."

Dean was baffled. "Aww Sammy, how do you get yourself into these messes? Cas, can you take us there? Virginia is a hell of a drive and I wanna see Sam now!"

Cas nodded and grabbed Dean and Bobby's arms.


Dean looked over at his brother's sleeping form and a wave of guilt swept over him. Shit Sammy! I should never have let you go! His brother was pale, almost grey, with sunken eyes and a near emaciated body. Dean gasped when he was able to make out a couple of ribs underneath the hospital gown. "He hasn't eaten," he mumbled. He walked over to his brother's seemingly lifeless form and winced in sympathy as he saw the bandages around his arms, knowing what must have loomed underneath the blood stained fabric. He sat on the edge of Sam's bed and gently shook his shoulders.

"Sammy? It's Dean. Wake up for me bro." Sam responded vaguely by fluttering his eyelids, but swiftly shut them in an effort to stay asleep.

"Come on Sam, please wake up." Dean was more forceful, but still retained a soft edge to his voice. This made Sam open his eyes fully, only to recoil in horror at the figure looming above him and started to thrash about in blind panic.

"Hey, woah, calm down Sammy! It's me, it's Dean!" But he may as well have been talking to the wall as Sam continued to struggle beneath him. "No, please," he whimpered, "no more, I can't, don't make me, please..."

"Sam!" Dean started to yell, scared for his brother. "Sam it's OK, it's just me, I'm not going to hurt you. Come on now, look at me!" He gently grabbed his brother's chin with one hand while still pinning him down with the other, making his terrified brother look at him. After a while, Sam stopped shaking as he finally recognised the figure above him. "De-Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy it's just me. You with me?" Dean couldn't hide his relief that the panic attack was over.

"What y' doing ere?" It appeared to take Sam a lot of effort to speak.

"Cas told me you were sick, so I came to find you." Dean spoke in a comforting way, gently stroking his brother's bangs out of his eyes in an effort to calm him. He decided that he wouldn't ask Sam about the attempted suicide just yet.

Sam looked around the room and saw a concerned Castiel and Bobby staring at him. He returned his gaze to Dean. "But... thought you d'n't w'na see m?" Sam murmured groggily.

Dean was struck with guilt. "Those were just angry words Sam, but I'm not angry now. I'm sorry to scare you like that. I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. You're my little brother and of course I want to see you." Dean ignored the voice in his head warning him of a possible chick flick moment. Much to his relief, Sam smiled.

"Th'nks Dean. Missed you..." his head swayed a bit and Sam eventually passed out, probably exhausted from the panic attack.

Tears stung at Deans eyes, but he wouldn't cry. He had to be strong for Sam.


"Silence bitch! Stop yellin' or your face is gonna get nicely splattered on the floor!"

Sam promptly shut up, but continued to squirm under the larger man's weight. He had him pinned to the ground on his stomach, arms sprawled to his side.

"Better. Now, let's get down to business!" Sam cringed as the man grabbed his pants and yanked them off along with his boxers. Within a few seconds, the man had removed his own attire and penetrated Sam.

"Urgggggh..." Sam moaned, trying to get free.

"That's it Sammy, fight me! I love it when you struggle."

Sam cried as the man forced himself into Sam. It hurt like hell, yet at the same time he got an embarrassing moment of pleasure when the bastard's dick hit his prostate. But he wouldn't have an orgasm. No, he wouldn't give the son of a bitch that satisfaction. Sadly, he had managed to do that every night and it never ended well for Sam.

After what seemed like hours, the beast came inside of Sam and pulled free. He swiftly turned Sam onto his back. "What's the matter Sammy? Not exciting enough?" Sam spat in his face. "Don't call me Sammy." Mistake. The brute was outraged and smashed Sam's head against the floor, and then began punching him several times in the face.

Sam jolted awake, covered in sweat and panting. He remembered the wonderful dream he had, the one where his brother was with him and had forgiven him, and he wished he could go back to that dream. More importantly, he wished it was real. It took a while for Sam to clam himself, but eventually he relaxed back against the bed and scanned the room. Much to Sam's surprise, he saw his older brother asleep in the chair next to him. What? Is this... am I still dreaming? Or is this real? "Dean?" he said cautiously.

His brother awoke immediately, as though he was never really asleep. "Sammy? You awake?"

"Yeah. Is it... is it really you? Or am I dreaming?"

"It's really me Sam. How're you feeling?"

"OK I guess," he lied. "Where's Bobby and Cas?"

"Talking to the nurses, trying to convince them to let you come with us as soon as you have healed."

"Doubt that'll happen, they even have me chained to a bed..." Sam moved his arm to prove his point, but was astonished to find that he could move his arm freely.

Dean grinned. "Not anymore. I insisted they removed the restraints, said they made you even more of a pain in the ass than normal." Dean hoped this crappy attempt at humour would make his brother smile. Sadly, it didn't.

"Oh, 'k, thanks." Sam settled back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

Dean sighed. "OK, Sammy. When would you like to tell me why the hell you pulled a stunt like that?"


"Don't give me that." Dean was serious but he made sure he didn't come across as angry – he didn't want Sam keeping this bottled up. "You tried to take your own life. Why would you do something like that?"

"I... I don't want to talk about it."

"Please Sammy, let me in. I know I said some harsh things and you probably don't trust me, but you're my brother and I want to help."

"It's not that I don't trust you. It's just... I'm ashamed. I feel so – so weak, so pathetic." Sam looked down to his lap, trying to hide from Dean's gaze.

"Hey, you are anything but weak and pathetic; you have nothing to be ashamed of. What's wrong?"

Sam said nothing. Dean thought for a moment that he had gone back to sleep, till he saw Sam's shoulders tremble.

"Sammy?" Dean moved over to the bed and sat on the edge. He put a comforting hand on his brother's arm. "You OK?" It was a stupid question. Of course Sam wasn't OK, but he had to get the kid to talk. Kid, Dean thought, this "kid" towers over me and is in his mid-twenties...

"Please Dean, I – I can't..." Sam whispered, his voice shaking, as though he could burst into tears any moment.

"It won't get better if you don't talk about it. I won't think you're weak or pathetic, I promise. Just tell me please."

Sam sat silently for a while and finally nodded. "'K. Well... um... my cell mate... guy's some psycho murderer, carrying out God knows how many life sentences, adding up to well over 200 years. And, well... he has a high sex drive. With no women around, he has to settle for his own sex... the guy was huge... I said no but... he wouldn't back down... I yelled for help, but the guards... they just ignored me... he did this every night for the whole two months. Rape, beatings, torture. He even ate my food, saying that if I gave it to him he would leave me alone that night, but he never did... he never did Dean..." Tears were flowing down Sam's face at the horrific memories. He turned his head away from his brother, so that Dean couldn't see how weak he was. "I couldn't fight him off. Hell, I can fight demons, ghosts, vampires, but I couldn't fight him. The more I tried, the worse it got... he seemed to be turned on when I tried to resist... oh God, I just couldn't take it anymore. I thought I was in there for life and... and I couldn't handle that forever... I... I know it was stupid but I didn't know what else to do, I felt so helpless..." Sam couldn't talk anymore and he broke down into uncontrollable sobs.

Bile rose up in Dean's throat as Sam described what that bastard had done, and that none of the guards had even bothered to help him. "Oh God, Sam... I'm so sorry..." he grabbed his broken brother and pulled him into a hug. He let Sam's head collapse on his chest and ignored the pain of Sam clinging onto him for dear life as he wept. Dean rubbed his back, occasionally stroking his hair, whispering soothing nonsense into his ear and gently rocking him back and forth. Fuck this, Sam needs this chick flick moment and I'm damned if I'm gonna bail on him now. "Shhh... it's all right, you're OK. He won't hurt you anymore. Shh, hey, it's OK Sammy. I'm here." Sam started to relax and his grip on his brother loosened slightly, obviously getting slight comfort from the hug, but he didn't let go.


Dean didn't know how like they sat like that, but he didn't care. Sam needed him, and if it took the whole night, then he would be there. Sam's sobs had died down, apart from the occasional hiccup and sniff, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away from the comfort of his older brother. Dean was fuming, desperate to find the son of a bitch who did this to his brother and put a bullet in his skull, but he knew that it was unlikely to help Sam, especially if he ended up going to jail for life himself.

"Hey, how you doing there kiddo?" he whispered.

"Better..." Sam mumbled shakily. "Thanks Dean."

"Don't mention it. You don't have to hide anything from me now OK? I'll help you as much as I can from now on. Chick flick moments are a-ok!" Dean smiled as Sam chuckled.

"Woah Dean, don't go all fruity on me now!"

"Tough Sam, I'm already there!" Both brothers laughed, but never once broke the comforting embrace. They never even noticed Bobby and Castiel and a couple of nurses staring at them through the glass.

Dean knew that Sam was nowhere near over this, and it would take a hell of a long time, but he was going to be there with Sam every step of the way. He knew that everything would be OK. For they were the Winchesters, and nothing would ever get in their way.