So season 7 isn't my favorite, but I love 7x17 The Born-Again Identity. In an effort to add more angst to it, this is an extended version of Sam's psych ward stay where Cas doesn't save the day and Dean does absolutely everything in his power to fix things because he's a good big brother. Lots of h/c. Also told from an outsider's perspective because I find it neat to write in this format. I don't do it often, so please if you have a minute I'd love to hear thoughts on it. The story should be four chapters once it's been edited. Thanks for reading!

I don't own the show or any book titles/quotes that are referenced. (Also being cross-posted on AO3 since I have an account on there now, same username ;)

After nearly twenty years spent working in Northern Indiana State Hospital's psychiatric ward, Maryanne had seen almost everything. Psychotic breaks of nearly every sort, patients with a range of delusions that others on the outside wouldn't believe, people at their rock bottom trying to deal, you name it. There was a young girl, Marin, admitted almost a month ago because of a fire she may have lit (Maryanne learned early on to not judge outright without all the facts in one way or another, and the girl's case did seem strange) to kill herself. But beyond that, things had been as normal as they could have been in the ward.

Normal was, of course, relative, and even their low standards were put to the test in early April. Maryanne was helping the night staff, her second shift of the week, when they received a transfer from the hospital. She was given the paperwork to sign to accept the transfer, but looked at it quizzically.

"He was hit by a car and had drugs in his system?" she asked as she flipped through the patient's first few pages on file. It just didn't seem like their kind of case, was all.

The doctor, William Stevens, a knowledgeable, competent young man that had brought over the paperwork nodded and flipped to one of the pages closer to the back. "It's a new strain of depressants that's been hitting the streets. But with how much is in his blood, there's no way he should have been awake, much less mobile enough to be struck by a vehicle. And…"

"What else?" Maryanne looked up from the paperwork.

Stevens was young compared to Maryanne, thirties to her late fifties, but he still had experience, so if something had him tongue-tied then it must have been truly confusing. "We patched him up, but can't give him anything until the depressants are out of his system, a few hours at this rate," Maryanne nodded, following along, "but he's got this look in his eyes. Every so often he'll glance to an empty part of the room and flinch like there's something there. He's refusing to rest, even though he must be exhausted, it's showing on his features."

"Did he say when the last time he slept was?"

"He answered a few days, but didn't give a specific number."

"Emergency contact?"

"We called the most commonly referenced number by a long shot in his contacts, but there was no answer."

Maryanne sighed and nodded. Sam Smith they'd gotten from his wallet, and the poor man wasn't even thirty. About the same age as her Robbie, even. And imagining him going through trials like that…

She signed the required papers and handed them back to Dr. Stevens. "I'll be by to check on him as soon as I finish my rounds."

Stevens took the pen as well as the papers. "Night, Maryanne."

"I think you mean good morning," she smiled at him, to which she got a breathy laugh back before they parted ways.

Maryanne stole glances at the patient file that remained in her hands as she made her rounds. Sam Smith had been treated for a broken rib and several lacerations, as well as a possible psychotic break listed in the 'other' category. Insomnia was listed as an already existing condition. She found it was lucky that not only was he minorly injured, but that the driver had called emergency services after the accident.

Still, there wasn't anything lucky about a young man being stuck in a psychiatric ward. She glanced over the other notes, enough to know that he seemed to be agreeable, nonviolent, and prone to lapses in concentration, most likely caused by his attention being diverted to something that wasn't actually in the room.

By the time she had finished checking in with the nurses and other patients, it still didn't prepare her for what she saw when she entered his room. She tapped on the door a few times of course, even though it was open, before she stepped beyond the threshold of the room.

The man looking back at her didn't look like someone that had yet to turn thirty. His eyes, beyond the exhaustion, carried a weight behind them that she had seldom seen. His almost six and a half foot tall frame barely fit on the bed. But what was more surprising than that was how small he managed to look while on it. Sam's arms were protectively curled over his chest, legs slightly drawn up. The required white uniform did nothing to help his complexion. But more than just the physical, Sam's eyes were what caught Maryanne's attention.

He looked haunted. He looked like he had been through some sort of hell all his own that no one else understood. Maryanne wanted nothing more than to take some of that pain away, get him some rest, and figure out what was actually going on. But first things first.

"Sam Smith?" she asked, even though she clearly knew his name. His eyes focused on her more when she began speaking, which was a good sign for responsiveness, bad for the fact that he should have probably been unconscious. "I'm Maryanne, one of the nurse managers here at the hospital."

"Hi," was all he said, and it came out quiet and raw. She didn't doubt that it was from the lack of sleep.

"Do you happen to know why you're here, Sam?"

He took a moment before he replied. "In a hospital or in a psych ward?"

"Whichever you feel more comfortable answering." His level of awareness was still strong, which was positive.

"Was hit by a car and…" his eyebrows furrowed together like he was really thinking about something, "not sleeping. But it's just work stress, it'll pass."

Even as he was saying it, Maryanne could see right through it. His eyes shifted from his feet to her and eventually to something behind her, even though there was nothing else in the room. She'd even go so far as to say he recoiled. It may not have been noticed by a normal person, he did a good job of downplaying it, but she had plenty of experience with patients experiencing hallucinations, and knew what to look for.

"Sam?" she asked it quietly and kindly and made a show of putting down the clipboard and pen. It took a few seconds but finally he took a deep breath and focused back on her. "I want you to know this is a safe place. Free from judgement or anything harmful, even though it may be a bit disconcerting at first. Trust me, I've worked here long enough to know that."

He didn't look any less haunted, but she was rewarded for her honest efforts with a small smile. "Thanks, yeah, I know. Just…tired, lots to sort through."

Maryanne nodded. "Try not to think too much, alright? You could use the rest." She looked down to check her watch. She compared how much time had passed with when Sam had been brought into the hospital and the notes that had been previously made on his condition. "How about we try giving you some sedatives now that the depressants should have worn off so you can sleep easier?"

"I'll try anything." It was so quiet, like he was almost guilty or scared to admit it, that Maryanne almost missed it, but decided to not remark on it. "Thanks."

"Of course," she smiled back. "I'll be back in a jiff." Sam nodded slightly but other than that made no other movements. Maryanne left the room but had to take a few moments once she was back in the hallway to sort through everything.

He didn't appear dangerous, which was a relief, those cases brought with them another level of difficulty altogether, and they'd already have their hands full dealing with his insomnia and hallucinations. She took the papers back to the desk where she put in the information for the sedatives, hopeful that with them the poor young man could at least get some rest and they could figure out more when he came around.

Of course, hope only got people so far. And for Sam Smith, it got him absolutely nowhere. When Maryanne got in for her next night shift a day later, she was crestfallen to find out that nothing had changed with Sam's condition. The sedatives hadn't improved his state. He still had lapses where he was afflicted with hallucinations, but they appeared to be getting more physical in nature, like his facade keeping them at bay was crumbling. A psychiatrist had been sent in to talk to Sam and had come away with much of what Maryanne had already found out.

He did mention that the hallucinations were most likely brought on by some serious past traumas, most likely long-term due to how negatively they were impacting Sam even now. He had no past history with substance abuse, which was a relief, and other than his current state seemed like a healthy young man. But he wouldn't talk about his hallucinations, which was a hurdle they would have to get over eventually if Sam ever wanted improve.

There had been a development outside of Sam's state, though. His brother, the mysterious D that had been called the most on Sam's cell phone, had shown up earlier in the day and been briefed on Sam's condition by Dr. Kadinsky. Visiting hours were over, even though apparently Dean had put up a fight, and had promised to return first thing in the morning.

From what the other nurses had said, he had a definite protective streak over his four years younger brother, and some unresolved issues himself that they picked up on just by observing him.

She checked on each of her patients and Sam too, of course, but didn't make any progress aside from her deepening sadness for him. It was often that she felt people didn't deserve what they were afflicted with, and Sam more so than many others.

It wasn't until her next day shift two days later that she finally met the Dean that everyone had been whispering about. She paused outside the room before she entered, just out of eyeshot, but she could still hear what was going on inside.

Sam was talking to someone with a deeper voice and it didn't take a genius to guess that it was Dean. She didn't want to intrude on their conversation, but she was happy that Sam had someone to confide in and trust during this difficult time. Happy and still worried.

The arrival of his brother had improved his state, the other nurses had mentioned, but Sam still wasn't sleeping despite medications and his hallucinations were getting worse. Whatever he was seeing was intent on not letting him catch a break even for an hour or two.

"No scales."

"Yeah, a scale, give me a baseline to work from, huh? What are we dealing with?"

Sam let out a tired sigh that Maryanne could hear even from the hallway.

"Three."

"Sure, and I'm a fairy princess."

"Dean…" Sam trailed off, and Maryanne could tell the conversation was taking a lot out of him. "It doesn't hurt, not really, I'm just…"

"Just what? Sam?"

That little uptick in Dean's tone was Maryanne's signal to enter. She tapped on the doorframe and stood in the threshold before going any further, seeing what had caused Dean's worry. Sam was looking off into the corner of the room, body rigid and tense.

Talking to him, shifting his focus, was generally the best way to snap him out of whatever he was seeing. Dean had turned to look at her, helplessness written all over his face, as if the situation didn't break her heart enough already.

"Sam, I was just about to tell Dean here," she said as she walked into the room, perhaps making a bit of a show as she went to adjust the blinds on the windows that were perfect to begin with, "about how you were explaining the rules of chess to me the other day." It was true, even in his state, and Sam had seemed grateful for a momentary distraction.

"Oh yeah? Finally found someone to listen to your boring mumbo jumbo, huh Sammy? Got her wrapped around your finger already?" Dean looked between Maryanne and his brother. Thankfully the extra voices pulled Sam out of it faster than some of his other hallucinations and within a minute the tenseness had decreased and his gaze had fixed loosely back on his brother.

"You'll have to play her one of these days, just don't teach her all your tricks," Dean reached over from his chair to nudge Sam's arm with his elbow.

That little contact all by itself seemed to ground Sam in a way nothing else could, and Maryanne immediately knew that the boys, and their connection, were something special. Sam looked a little confused at first, but when Dean tilted his head towards Maryanne, he smiled slightly.

"Maryanne," she introduced after she finished 'fixing' the blinds. "I'm assuming you're the big brother Dean that Sam here doesn't stop talking about?"

"Gee, Sammy, makin' me famous already, nice work."

Sam actually rolled his eyes at that one, which made Maryanne smile.

"Mind if I steal him for a sec?" she asked his express permission, and was glad he was back with them enough to nod and gesture towards the door with his hand.

Dean looked back and forth between the two of them, reluctant to leave the chair the nurses said he seldom vacated except when hours were over or for a few minute breaks here or there.

"It'll be short, I promise," Maryanne assured both of them, and finally Dean agreed, stood up, and followed her into the hallway. She led them a few doors down to a quieter section of the hospital before she stopped. "It's good to meet you Dean, really. I'm one of the nurse managers here, I've been kept very up to date on Sam's condition, he really does mention you a lot."

Dean's gaze shifted to the floor and he shrugged, and Maryanne was close to saying that he may have been a bit uncomfortable with the praise, or just worried, because he quickly changed topics. "How bad is he? Really? I mean, I've spoken to the doc and some of the other staff, but I need all the opinions I can get."

Maryanne took a breath and sighed. "He's an…interesting case. A good man, as far as I can tell," Dean's interrupting nod helped confirm that, "that something awful has happened to. I'll be honest, we've tried everything we've thought to, methods that have helped others in the past with similar conditions, but he isn't improving."

Dean's face fell at that and he leaned a shoulder against the wall.

"He needs rest, real rest, not a scattered hour or two, but the hallucinations won't let him sleep, and he hasn't done much in the way of describing them, so we don't know what we're up against."

"They are on the hard side to explain," Dean said a bit to himself under his breath.

"Is there anything you know about them that could help us help him?" She was almost pleading with him, hoping there was some scrap of information he could give them that could help the staff avoid triggers, since they had established none, or ways to talk him down when he was seeing things. Still, it was a relief that at least someone knew what Sam was up against. That someone being Sam's brother, who he seemed to trust implicitly and wholly, had the opportunity to do Sam some good if he ever did want to open up about it.

Dean rubbed a hand across his forehead and when he dropped it, she could see the weight of the world in his eyes and on his shoulders. The weight of the world, for him, was his little brother, she saw that clear as day.

"No matter how little sense it makes, trust me, I have open ears."

He thought about it for a few more seconds before he looked at her. "Sam is a good man. Best I've ever known, and not just because he's my family," he said it with such conviction that she'd never disbelieve him. "Literally saving people from fires kinda guy. But a few years back…" Dean paused and shook his head, "he got captured by the guy he was trying to save people from. Tortured. For a while, too long, by his own personal devil, if you will."

Maryanne nodded slightly to show that she was still actively listening.

"And I couldn't save him." His voice broke, but he covered it quickly with a cough. "When I got him back, his mind set up a wall of sorts to keep the memories at bay, you've probably seen that stuff before."

Maryanne nodded again. She'd seen plenty of patients with repressed traumatic memories.

"A few months ago, it all came back. He started seeing that devil wherever he went. Then we uh…we lost someone close to us, then another, it got worse, and a week or so ago he started losing sleep over it."

He cleared this throat again and settled his gaze on the floor. Maryanne wanted more than anything to tell him that it would be alright, that Sam's mind would correct itself when he realized the devilish man was no longer a threat, something along the lines of what worked for the other cases. But this was no other case, not to this extreme. She soon realized, still looking at Dean, that she was also dealing with a man with an extraordinarily large guilt complex over having failed to help his brother.

If they weren't in their current situation, she'd be writing down the names of some well known therapists in the area for Dean himself. She'd set up appointments for them if that was what it took.

"Are there any triggers to it? Things the staff should avoid?"

Dean shook his head. "The guy's always there, constant harassment, nothing in particular sets it off."

"Any solutions you've tried? Even short term?" Anything he could tell them would help, and she was grateful he was even telling her this much.

Another head shake. "I'd say drink until he passes out, but you know," he tried for a smirk but there was nothing akin to humor behind his words.

Maryanne paused. No triggers, but also no current solutions. She ran through a mental list of other patients and what had helped them even in the slightest. "What about when you were kids?"

"Sorry?" he looked confused.

"You boys are very close, and you're extremely protective and responsible, I'd say you were there for him a lot growing up?" It took a moment but finally Dean nodded. "If Sam ever had problems sleeping as a child, would you do anything to help with that? Sometimes an ingrained memory like that, especially if it was repeated during the formative years with some kind of comfort associated with it, can be helpful when reapplied," Maryanne offered by way of explanation.

She could see the gears turning in his mind and hoped that maybe, just maybe, they'd found something that would work better than loading Sam up with medication.

"I'd read to him," Dean eventually said. "King Arthur, stories with monsters that get defeated in the end, heroes, that sorta stuff. Though he got more into the literary classics when he started school."

Maryanne smiled. Books they could definitely work with. "We have a small collection of books here for the patients, would you like to come see if he'd like any or if some of them sound familiar?"

"You think reading to him could solve his problem?"

"No, but I think it could be a real step in the right direction." Dean shrugged at that, seeming to take it as their best option, and let her lead him to the room where they kept the books.

He ended up picking a few. The Great Gatsby was the first on Dean's pile and after a moment of laughing to himself, Maryanne watched as Sam I Am became the second. A few more titles followed, The Odyssey being one that stuck in Maryanne's mind as an interesting choice. He'd asked if they had any books about King Arthur, but their library wasn't that extensive. Some classics from different eras and reading levels were present, but not much beyond that.

They returned to Sam's room after picking out the books, and Maryanne was happy to see that Dean appeared a little lighter even though the weight he was carrying was physically heavier. It was a miracle what a small spark of hope could do for a person's demeanor.

He peeked around the door to check if Sam was sleeping, the poor thing still wasn't, before he announced himself. "Yo, Sammy, this place has their very own reading rainbow," he said happily and placed the decent sized stack of books on the small table by the door.

"He raided the library," Maryanne pointed to him, and was glad when Sam smiled at Dean's grand gesture.

"He's not getting arrested, is he?" Sam's voice was broken, as it had sounded in the days prior, and he looked no less tired, but he seemed more content than before. If only everyone had a brother that could put a bandage over wounds such as these with just a few books.

Maryanne pursed her lips. "I haven't decided." She chuckled when Dean winked at her before he sat down in the chair. "I'll pop back in when visiting hours are up." Both boys nodded, though Dean was already eyeing the stack of books and choosing one.

"How about we start with Gatsby? Huh? You loved it in high school even though you read it in middle school. Overachiever much?"

Dean started with some bantering before he actually got into the reading, his rough but warm voice filling the hallway even as Maryanne walked down it and away from the room.

"In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice…"