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A psychotic break.
That’s what the doctors say.
One brother in the cuckoo’s nest.
Dean gives a hysteric little chuckle at that one, because Sammy’s in the cuckoo’s nest now, and this time it’s for real. The drugs don’t put him to sleep, and that’s what Sammy needs, is to sleep. It’s killing him not to, but Dean’s a good son, he’s a good big brother.
Dean’s gonna help Sammy sleep.
That’s all he’s got, is Sam, his little brother. Mom burned up by fire and turned to ash, Dad yanked down into Hell for a stupid cause, Cas swallowed up by water because he wasn’t strong enough, and Bobby beaten down with a bullet to the brain.
All he’s got is Sammy, and now Lucifer’s got his claws in his brain, digging out all the good stuff, devouring his soul like all evil does. Lucifer’s probably sitting there in his cage, licking the blood and brain from his fingers, smirking because he’s still won, even if the world’s not burning.
Except Dean’s world is.
He remembers the fire, the heat, but he doesn’t remember which fire. Which one made his skin peel and which one stole his mom and which one stopped all the hauntings.
It’s like the world’s on fire, but no one else can see it. This is all he’s got. Sammy’s all he has left, and all he really needs is to sleep, and Dean can do that. Dean can help Sammy sleep.
He sits there on the edge of the bed and watches Sammy, who’s staring out the window with a weird kind of look on his face. Dean wonders what he’s thinking. He remembers he always used to wonder what kind of thoughts a baby could have, and his mom, she’d tell him all these stories, make up all kinds of things for Sammy to be thinking about.
Dean knows they weren’t real, but sometimes he likes to pretend that all Sam really ever did dream about was lollipops and candy canes.
Dean hopes that when Sammy finally goes to sleep that’s what he’ll dream about. Puppies and ice cream and rainbows and all those stupid little happy things on birthday cards.
“It’s gonna be okay, Sammy. I’m gonna get you help.”
The pillow’s soft in his hands, and Dean thinks it’s a good pillow for sleeping.
Perfect for his brother.
At first nothing happens, and Dean thinks maybe he’s put Sammy to sleep already. But then he starts to move.
And he’s a big buy, his baby brother, and he struggles a lot, so Dean sings “Hey, Jude” and thinks maybe that’ll calm him down because he can’t remember any other song right now but it’s a good one and Mom liked it. But it doesn’t seem to work, because Sam starts scratching at him like when he was still a chubby little kid who threw fits and had tantrums about not getting candy, so Dean starts talking.
“It’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay. You’re gonna go to sleep now, and it’s gonna be okay.”
It takes a little while, and Dean’s gotta press and push and hold, because his baby brother’s a big guy, but eventually he stops, goes all limp like he does any time he’s sleeping, and Dean smiles.
He lays down next to Sammy, pulls him in close and pets his hair, murmuring nonsense against the top of his head.
—-
He gets a text message that comes from an unknown number. It’s just a bunch of numbers with the name ‘Winchester’ at the end, but it’s all organized, so he thinks it’s supposed to mean something important.
It takes him a few days to figure out that they’re coordinates. The coordinates take him to a hospital, where he asks for ‘Winchester’. The nurse gives him a suspicious look and asks why he’d want to know about them.
He doesn’t like lying, but it feels important, and he has to know, so he tells her that he’s family, that he’s a cousin and someone told him to come to this hospital.
Her eyes soften at that, and he wonders what that means, but he doesn’t have to wonder long. She tells him that they had no idea they were the Winchesters, that they were actually criminals. She says they were real sad, and it’s not much of a shock, considering everything.
She tells him that Dean showed up to visit, just like normal, but that this time he was saying he knew what would help Sammy sleep. They didn’t think anything of it. She says when the orderlies came in to check on them, Sam was lying on the bed, suffocated with a pillow, and Dean was laying right there next to him with his wrists cut.
She’s got tears in her eyes by the time she finishes, says it’s all tragic, but that they’re in a better place now.
He feels unsettled and sick the rest of the day, wonders why someone would send him coordinates to a hospital with the name of two dead brothers.
He calls the number and an automated voice tells him the line’s been disconnected.
When he finally thinks to search the phone number, he doesn’t know what it means.
He types the name into Google, but only a few articles show up.
The most recent one says that Robert Singer passed away not too long ago after having been shot in the head.
After that, Emmanuel never really gets the story of the Winchesters out of his head.