Out of his hands
Title: Out of his hands
Genre: Gen (wincest if you squint)
Warnings: None.
Word count: 1,057
Summary: When Sam breaks down, Dean needs to let the professionals take over, but can he?
Sequel can be found here
This moment was inevitable. Like many other thoughts that Dean Winchester didn’t want to entertain, he had buried it deep and moved on, pretending that his brother was fine and coping. Therefore it shouldn’t be surprising that his little brother is now officially a patient in a psychiatric hospital. The voice that whispers you knew this was coming certainly doesn’t make it any easier. Preparing for this moment had not been an option. This moment should not be an option. But here Sam lies on his side, his back to Dean, fast asleep in room 685 of the 3rd floor ward.
This is supposed to be Dean’s farewell to Sam because for once in Dean’s life, he is helpless to take care of his brother. The job he’s had for a lifetime is being passed over to the experts and this, Dean thinks, might be his greatest failure yet. He can deal with letting down himself, but letting down Sammy is the reality that he doesn’t want to face.
Dean takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his mouth as he watches the slow expansion and contraction of Sam’s back as he breathes evenly in his sleep. Having seen Sam truly break under the weight of psychosis the last few days, Dean finds himself unwillingly to wake his brother from the reprieve, even if this is the last time he’ll be seeing him for God only knows how long; not that God ever cared enough to pay attention to things like that.
He’ll wake Sammy up eventually, though, simply because Dean is selfish and he can’t bear not saying goodbye. He doesn’t actually know if he can say goodbye.
The room is cold, the walls are stark; a general feeling of discomfort cloaks the room. How will Sam get better in a place like this? Dean begrudgingly knows that Sam will be in good hands, it’s just hard to accept that those hands are not his own. This is beyond him and he hates himself for it.
The hospital gown Sam wears doesn’t suit him, seems entirely wrong in fact. Dean wonders vaguely why they didn’t put him in sweats and a shirt, like years back when they admitted themselves at a different asylum to hunt a wraith. Would the food here be just as bad as the other place? He hopes not. Dean can at least feel confident that this hospital meets his standards. He thoroughly researched it and made sure it would be fit and safe for his brother; no wraiths or experimental doctors to be found. It’s the only consolation.
Dean’s suddenly aware that Sam’s breathing has changed. He waits on pins and needles, debating if he should say something, approach his brother or just wait. He doesn’t want to upset Sam or himself, for that matter.
“Dean?” Sam asks quietly.
“Yeah, Sammy, I’m here.” Dean speaks in a short, deliberate way, not trusting himself to keep the emotion out of his voice.
Sam doesn’t turn over to face Dean, just continues to lay in the fetal position, looking so young and broken from behind. Dean thinks that like this, you wouldn’t believe Sam to be the giant Sasquatch of a man that he is.
The silence is heavy and Dean feels himself on the verge of panicking. But he has to keep it together for Sammy. He swallows audibly and rises from his seat to place a hand on Sam’s shoulder. His brother doesn’t flinch which makes Dean feel better. But he still doesn’t turn to look at him.
“I’m sorry it came to this Dean, I’m sorry.” Sam says in that still too quiet voice. Dean is dumbfounded for a moment. Why on earth is Sam apologizing? This is Dean’s fault.
“Hey, what are you talking about, Sammy? Why are you sorry? This is out of your hands, man. I’m the one who is sorry.” He takes a shallow breath, feels his voice quivering, “I’m supposed to take care of you; I’m supposed to make this better.”
“You are making it better… you brought me here.”
Dean bites his lower lip and looks up at the ceiling to prevent the newly formed tears from spilling. This is the most calm Sam has been in awhile, and he speculates on just how hard Sam must be trying to make this easier for them both. The thought depresses Dean even more.
“You’re gonna work past this, kiddo.” He squeezes Sam’s Shoulder. Dean is acutely aware that he must choose his words wisely. Sam has been looking up to him since they were children, and he has to be strong for Sammy, he has to say the words that will keep his brother fighting for his sanity.
“Like I’ve said before, Sammy, you’re stronger than me. You just need a little help this time, that’s all.” The bravado is back in Dean’s voice and he’s grateful he’s managed it for Sam’s sake. Sam nods his head in acknowledgment, closing his eyes tightly while he does.
“Sammy… Hey, Sammy, look at me please.”
Sam rolls slowly onto his back and meets Dean’s eyes. Dean has loved those eyes for longer than he can remember. He sees an uncertain child in them looking for help, but his hurt runs too deep, and Dean can’t fix it. Dean can only offer comfort now. He brushes a few strands of hair from Sam’s forehead and smiles at him. He rests his hand against the side of Sam’s face, reluctant to break the contact.
Sam faintly smiles back.
“You’ll be feeling better before ya know it. I’ll try to visit when I can, okay?” Dean has to wrap this up now or else he may never leave his brothers side. Sam nods again before saying, “Thank you.”
Dean can’t speak. He nods at Sam, pats him briefly on the shoulder and walks quickly out the door of room 685.
Once he’s safely out of ear-shot and in the stairwell he breaks into tears. He makes a few ridiculously loud chocking noises before mentally berating himself. He evens his breathing then continues his descent down the stairs.
He thought the night Sam left for Stanford was his worst memory, but as he steps out onto the main grounds of the hospital, he realizes that memory has just been replaced.