Trauma a Sabriel Highschool Au

1. Homecoming

Sam watched the second hand of the clock tick around and around. He was so close to getting out. To being free. He just wanted to get back to his life. He wanted to put all of this behind him. He checked his duffle bag for the 8th or 9th time, mentally checking things off his list as he touched them. Phone, check. Wallet, check. Clothes, check. House key, check. Journal, check. Medications, check. He counted all four bottles, making sure they were all there. He couldn't be bothered to remember the names of each one, bit he had them color coded in his Journal and on his med chart. 2 red pills in the morning and 2 at night, 1 blue pill in the morning, 1 yellow pill at night. And in case of extreme emotional distress, 1 white pill with instructions to be in a safe place and to sleep. He intended to not need the sedatives at all, but his doctor insisted he have them just in case. He hated that phrase. Just in case. Keep your pills with you just in case. Just in case he got upset. Just in case he got angry. Just in case the memories became to much and he completely lost his ability to function like a normal person. Just in case. Sam watched the minute hand tick again. 10 more minutes, then he would be free. Michael and Dean were picking him up at exactly 12:30. They had promised.

Sam picked up his duffle bag and took one last look at his hospital room. It was safe. He remembered the doctors telling him that when he woke up here the first time. He was safe here, this room was his safe place. Nothing could hurt him here. Not that anyone would try. There was no one who wanted to hurt Sam. That was what they all told him. No one would hurt him. They all just wanted to help him heal. They were of course talking about his mind, his emotions. They had no idea what trauma he had gone through. That was his fault though. He never told anyone what happened to him, what really caused him to pick up his pocket knife and slit his wrist, fully intending to end his own life that night. But it didn't matter now. Sam instinctively tugged down the sleeve else of his jacket, even though he knew the scars were fully covered since they were half way up his forearm. There was no risk that anyone would see them as long as he had on a long sleeve shirt or jacket, but he was still self conscious about it. With one final glance, Sam left the room behind, making his way to the nurses station of the psych ward that had been his home for the past 90 days.

He walked up to the desk, waiting patiently for the nurse to look up at him.

"Are they here yet?"

Sam asked, he glanced at the clock again 12:26.

"Not yet sweetie, why don't you have a seat while you wait for them? I'm sure they are going to be up any minute."

Sam nodded, crossing the room to sit in one of the hard, to small chairs. He wanted to go home. Sam felt the seconds tick by, feeling like an eternity. His thought started to wander. What if they didn't come for him? What if they left him here? Had they decided he was to much trouble to bring home? He glanced at the clock again, 12:27.

Sam shook his head, taking a deep breath and holding it, counting to 5 before letting it out. It was a technique his shrink had taught him, controll your breathing and calm your mind. He watched the elevator doors, willing them to open.

"Sammy?"

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Dean's voice behind him. He had forgotten about the elevator at the other end of the hall. When the panic subsided, Sam jumped out of his chair, wrapping his brother in a tight hug. Dean let out a soft laugh as he hugged his brother back.

"It's good to see you too. Are you ready to go home?"

Sam nodded, grabbing his bag.

"Where is Michael?"

Dean nodded towards the nurses desk where Michael was signing some papers, presumably checking Sam out. He turned and waved at his little brother, a smile on his face, though Sam could clearly see the concern in his eyes. Since their parents had died a few years ago when sam was only 12, Dean was 14, and Michael was 3 months shy of 18, life had not been easy on the eldest. He had tried hard to get custody of his brothers, but no judge would sign off on it while Michael was still legally a child. So they had to go through 3 months on the foster system until he aged out, then another 6 months while Michael got a job and proved he could support the three of them. Eventually, almost a full year after going into the system, Michael had managed to get custody of his younger brothers, moving them back into their family home. Now, at age 20, Michael had to ho through the pain of almost losing his baby brother, and then forcibly committing Sam into the psych ward for 3 months. It had all aged his brother a lot. He looked much older than he had just a few months ago. When Michael finished signing him out, he crossed the room, instantly pulling Sam into a hug. Sam gripped his brother tight, not having the words to apologize for what he had put them through.