"We're gonna have to tie him down for his own safety. Dean? You with me? Dean! Before he has another fit."

"Yeah. Yeah. Let's just get it over with."

SPN SPN SPN

"All right, let's get him up on the cot." Bobby said. He took Sam's feet, Dean hooked his hands under Sam's arms and together they lifted him onto the cot.

Sam was still choking and whimpering, biting into the leather belt so hard Dean was surprised he didn't bite it in two. The whole length of his frame shook in waves of tremors, sweat poured off of him, and the fear in his eyes drove one more spike into Dean's heart.

"Move him up Dean, or his feet'll be over the rail."

"I want his head on the mattress."

"We need his feet on the bed to tie him down."

Sammy was spinning off into death or insanity - and with their luck both - and they were arguing about how to best lay him on a cot.

"Then give me the blanket. He needs something under his head." Sam was so long, there was no way to fit all of him on the mattress and Dean kept his hand between Sam's head and the bedrail as they slid him up. Bobby tossed him the blanket.

"You keep him still, I'll get the cuffs."

Dean folded the blanket one more time than it already was and slipped it under Sam's head. Then he kept one hand pressed onto Sam's shoulder and with the other he made a physical sweep of Sam's body, looking for damage, hoping he didn't find any. Everything seemed sound but his bruised hands, scraped knuckles, and torn fingertips. The damage of escape.

"Sam." But it was only a whisper. Sam was breathing hard, tossing his head, sweating, still whimpering but the choking had stopped at least. "Sam."

"D-d-d..." The sound stuttered out of Sam around the belt. Beseeching. Scared. His eyes focused on Dean.

"You in there Sammy? That you?"

"D-d-d-d...p-p-p-p." Sam brought his hands up awkwardly. One brushed Dean's arm and he twisted his fingers in his sleeve. The other hand tugged weakly at the belt, but his teeth were still clamped too tight around it to pull it free.

"Sam? Sam - I'll take this away, you gotta relax. Okay? Sam? Relax." Dean put his hand over Sam's and gently pulled. "Relax Sam. Relax. Okay? Okay?"

"D-d-d-d...p-p-p-PLEASE." The word burst out of Sam as soon as the belt was gone. His eyes were wild "Please. Dean please."

"Take it easy Sammy." Dean used his hand to wipe the spit and sweat from around Sam's mouth. "I know this is hard. I know this is torture. Just hang on. Please Sam. Hang on."

"Got the cuffs." Bobby said. His sudden appearance made Sam gasp and jerk away, pressing hard against Dean.

"Pleasepleaseplease."

"It's okay Sam, it's okay. We won't hurt you." Dean said but he didn't know if he was promising Sam or himself. "Bobby, you got padding for those?"

"Padding."

"He's gonna fight and he's gonna hurt himself." Dean shouted. He felt Sam's shaking fingers in his sleeve twist harder. "I don't want him hurt."

Bobby looked down and it was then that Dean saw the handful of wide strips of what looked like old blanket that Bobby held. He hadn't been questioning the need for padding - he'd been confirming it.

"M'sorry." Dean said. He bent his head down to Sam who was still pressed against him and ran his hand over Sam's hair. "M'sorry."

"Don't be. C'mon and let's get this done. You keep him still. I'll get these on."

Bobby worked fast; he seemed a little more experienced in this than Dean would've thought. Sam didn't seem to notice, he didn't react, he didn't pull away or try to fight Bobby off. He seemed to have drifted off somewhere that Dean could only hope was peaceful.

"How's he doing?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know. His eyes are open but - I don't know."

"I'm almost done, then we can let him get some rest."

"Yeah."

The last cuff Bobby put on was the hand Sam still had twisted in Dean's shirt sleeve. He touched Sam's hand and gently pried his fingers open and away from Dean's arm. Then he wrapped the blanket strip around Sam's wrist and slipped the cuff on.

Sammy was tied down to the cot.

"Well that's done." Bobby said. He didn't sound happy about it. "We should get back upstairs...Dean?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Just - give me a minute. Will you?" Dean couldn't keep the exhaustion out of his voice.

"All right. I'll - I'll take care of that."

Bobby picked up the table, pitcher of water and glass that'd gone flying when Sam did. The lid had stayed on the pitcher and most of the water had stayed in, so he just set everything back the way it was.

Dean waited until Bobby was done, waited until Bobby sighed like he knew Dean was waiting, waited until he said, "I'll be upstairs," and left the panic room. Left Dean alone with Sam.

"Sammy? Can you hear me?" Dean waited but Sam didn't answer, still didn't react, didn't look at Dean, even when Dean put his hands on Sam's face. He twitched and whimpered and then seemed to settle. His eyes closed and he let out a shuddering breath and seemed to settle into the thin mattress and makeshift pillow. Dean didn't dare let himself hope it was a good sign.

"Dammit Sammy. I hate doing this to you, but I have to. When this is over, I hope you understand. I hope we can fix this. But even if we can't, I would still do this. Okay? You get that? You can hate me for the rest of your life, but I am doing this for you."

Finally, there didn't seem to be anything else to say, nothing else to wait for. Dean pressed a hand over Sam's chest, over his heart.

"I'll check back with you in awhile Sammy. I'm not leaving you alone, I promise."

Dean walked to the door, and had a long look back at Sam before he swung it closed and bolted it shut. He thought was harder to walk up the stairs and away from Sam than it had been to get out of hell.

The end.