What if Sam was transferred to another facility?
A/N Bobby is not in a wheelchair in this story because I didn't want him to be
The doctor walked into Sam's room where he was strapped down to the bed. "Sam, I warned you if there was another outburst, I would have to send you to a facility that will not be so lenient.
"Please, give me another chance," Sam asked, half-heartedly. After what Dean had said to him, he didn't really care. He wanted to be sent away from him.
"No. Your transfer is ready. We're going to sedate you so we can put a straitjacket on you."
Sam sighed as a needle was injected into him. Ah, the nice colors again. He smiled as they undid his restraints, put the straitjacket on and led him out to the van. He was glad to be putting as much distance between him and his brother. How dare he blame everything on him? Dean had broken the first seal. He never took any of the blame.
Dean wondered what was going on. He was seeing things. Sam was flipping out. That was too much of a coincidence. He went to see Martin.
"Where's Sam?" Martin asked.
"Lock down," Dean replied, remembering Sam's crazy outburst earlier in the day room. He didn't know who Sam thought he was fighting, but it looked pretty intense.
"What?" Martin asked.
"Yeah, we're both going crazy," Dean said. "I think crazy is the clue."
"What do you mean?"
"This wraith we're hunting must be making us go crazy. How would it do that?" Dean asked.
"Well, there is lore that says a wraith can affect your mind through a touch or saliva," Martin said.
"Wendy," Dean said, thinking back. "She kissed both me and Sam. Let's go."
"I can't go," Martin protested.
"You have to. I'm in no shape to do this myself," Dean said, darting looks around the room. They were being watched. He knew it.
Martin sighed. He realized he was going to have to come out of retirement, briefly anyway. He and John had hunted together for years. He couldn't leave his son hanging. "OK."
They walked down the hall towards Wendy's room. "What are you doing?" Martin asked. Dean was walking strangely.
"I can't step on any of the lines. They're land mines, the building will blow up."
Martin rolled his eyes. He had spent the last five years living among crazy people, but Dean seemed over-the-top.
They opened Wendy's door and saw the nurse hovering over. She turned around.
"It's you," Dean said in surprise.
"That's right, Sugar," she smiled. She lunged at Dean. Martin took the letter opener Sam had handed him the other day and plunged it into the wraith. She screamed and sizzled. Dean immediately regained his senses.
"You have to get Sam and get out of here," Martin said, knowing that the scream would attract security. A murdered nurse was bound to make security beefed up.
"I don't know exactly where he is," Dean fretted.
"I'll show you where they stash the violent patients for transfer," Martin said.
"Yes, they don't keep violent patients here. As soon as they find out you murdered the nurse, you'll be out of here, too. You guys gotta leave tonight."
They reached the padded cell that Martin thought Sam would be in. Dean picked the lock. The room was empty. "Where is he?" Dean asked.
"How can we find out?" Dean asked.
They snuck over to the office, ducking past the guards that were milling around, looking for them. "Here's Sam's file. He's been transferred to Forest Glen. Let's get out of here, and figure out how to rescue Sam later," Dean said.
"I'm not leaving," Martin said. He didn't think he could function out there anymore. It was scary out there. He could hurt someone again.
"You can't stay here. You weren't in your room when they searched. They'll transfer you out, maybe even put you in jail. You'll be fine," Dean said quickly.
"If Martin wouldn't come of his own accord now, Dean wouldn't be able to help him. Sam was his first priority."
"Fine," Martin said. He knew Dean was right. They slipped past the guards and ran the two miles to where Dean had left his car. Martin was huffing and puffing pretty heavily by the time they got there.
Sam's drugs had worn off by the time he arrived at Forest Glen. He felt differently than he had when he left the other asylum. He wasn't sure how, though. He could still remember those awful things Dean said to him. "Leave me alone," Sam yelled as hands reached to bring him out of the van. He kicked and struggled.
When they finally got him inside, the doctor came out. "Looks like you'll have to be kept heavily medicated," the doctor noted.
"I checked myself in voluntarily. I want to leave," Sam said. He knew his rights.
"Once you turned violent, you lost the right to do that," the doctor said. "Your last doctor declared you to be a danger to yourself and society."
"I want a lawyer," Sam said. Having a pre-law education sometimes came in handy.
"Sure, we'll have one here tomorrow morning," the doctor lied. His job was to help people and in his opinion the courts just got in the way. He never reported when his patients did something illegal and he never helped them to get out before they were ready. He decided when they were ready for discharge and nobody else. He had already decided that this patient would need to be heavily medicated for his own good. By tomorrow morning, he would forget that he had ever wanted a lawyer.