Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

Chapter Three

Dean had ridden nonstop for a day and a half, and he had finally arrived. He charged up to the apartment he knew belonged to Sam and pounded on the door. When he got no response, he became worried but instantly kicked himself. It was the middle of the day. Sam was probably in a class or something.

'Easy, Dean. No reason to panic. Sammy is fine.'

He took a deep breath and began picking the lock, figuring that if Sam could scare him to death, albeit inadvertently, by not answering, he could scare him by waiting for him inside his locked apartment. However, when he opened the door, he instantly knew that something was wrong.

For one thing, the keys to the apartment were clearly visible on a small table by the door. Another thing off was Sam's abnormally long legs sprawled out in the hallway from the bathroom.

Dean was kneeling beside him in an instant. "Sammy, come on, man, wake up," he pleaded, checking desperately for a pulse. It was there, but weak, and growing weaker. He reached for his cell and dialed 911. As soon as he knew the ambulance was on its way, he glanced around for signs of anything that could have attacked Sam, despite the fact that there was not a mark on him. And then his saw the empty bottle…

'Oh, God, Sammy, no…'

He picked the bottle up. According to the label, it had once contained painkillers, the actual name he could not pronounce. Where had Sam gotten them? More importantly, why had he tried to kill himself? Because that was obviously what had happened. Sammy was smart enough not to mistakenly overdose on painkillers.

Tears came to Dean's eyes and threatened to spill over. He could not help but think that this was his fault. As he cradled Sam's head and waited for the ambulance, all he could think about is that he should have gotten here sooner. Maybe he could have prevented this. Sammy…

OoooOoooOoooO

Sam opened his eyes groggily and all he could see was white. He blinked a few times and the sound of a beep beep floated into his foggy mind.

"Where am I?" he asked, not realizing he had spoken aloud.

"The hospital," a voice replied, causing him to start and look up. Besides his bed stood his brother, and he was pissed. Now, an angry Dean was usually a very scary site, but Sam knew the look on his face. It was a magnified variation of the look he had when Sam had left for college. It was Dean's way of dealing with pain, and Sam felt guilty because he knew that he had caused Dean a lot of pain.

"That's where people who attempt to kill themselves after calling their big brother for help go," Dean continued bitterly.

"Kill themselves…? Dean, I didn't—" but Sam couldn't finish that because he didn't know what he had done.

"You didn't what Sam?" Dean asked wearily, dropping the act and letting his pain show through. He had nearly lost his baby brother, and he had to find out why.

Sam did not know what to tell Dean. Therefore, he told him the only thing he could. The truth.

"Dean, this is the fourth time this has happened. The first time I nearly bled to death, the second, I barely got out of the noose that had ended up around me neck, and the third I nearly did a swan dive from the top of my building. I don't remember doing any of it. I come to my senses a few seconds afterwards. So far I've been lucky, but today… Dean, if you hadn't shown up…" Sam closed his eyes to try and control his emotions.

Dean, in a somewhat out-of-character move, sat on the side of the bed and pulled his brother into his strong embrace.

"Shh… Sammy," he said, trying to ease his brother's now sobbing form. "It's okay."

"No, it's not, Dean. Am I going crazy? Why am I doing this to myself? Why can't I remember it?"

"It doesn't matter, Sammy, because I'm here now. I will make it okay."

Tbc…