Wisdom Reigns … Denial Remains

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with the CW or the producers, cast and crew of Supernatural nor do any monies pass hands. I do however love to play with two certain brothers and return them in relatively good health.

Author's Note 1: This fic will contain very dark themes and violence, if it offends then don't read.

Author's Note 2: I will be posting updates of my other two stories over the next week, sorry for the delays but RL is … well yeah a bitch on a good day and while feeling a little low my confidence took a little side-swipe from a careless reviewer. But I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Mmmmwahahahahaha… You have now been warned! I am back with a vengeance.

Dean is 27 and Sam is 23 this story is set around season 2 but probably will not follow canon to the letter, so can be classed as AU if you like.

What happens when the brother you can see is not the brother you know?

S-D

CHAPTER ONE: One life to lead, one life to follow.

How long can a man survive without feeling any emotions whatsoever?

Dean Winchester cut a lonely figure as he sat on the hood of his classic Chevy Impala sipping on his now warm beer. He stared out at the landscape without seeing anything that resembled the rolling hills, the tall graceful trees or the lush green of the fields. He could only see in black and white it seemed, the only other colour in his life was blood red. Idly he ran the pad of his right thumb over the lip of his beer bottle but didn't do anything else. He wanted to cry, to scream to shout at the nameless, faceless so-called God at the unfairness of it all, of his life but the words stuck in his throat like swallowed gum, refusing to go anywhere but choking him just the same.

His father, his hero, his idol was gone … dead and dusted. Dealt the deal he wanted and was gone in return for Dean's life. His cowardly father could no long live up to the perceived notions of vengeance, violence and superstition. The mantle was once again thrust upon his shoulders bowing them even more with the weight. As his father did twenty-three years ago to a terrified toddler he did again to an equally terrified young man. He laid the responsibility for the life of another on his son, cloaking him in with the obligation and duty until it was suffocating and claustrophobic.

'And then I fail miserably daddy dear.' The bitter thought had him cringing and wanting to hide away, shame covering him in a leprous rash and marking him for life.

Sliding off the bonnet Dean pulled his arm back and threw the bottle as hard and as far as he could, a raw, guttural scream accompanied the throw as he sank down onto his knees and sobbed dry tears. "Sammy!"

S—D

ONE WEEK EARLIER:

Two tall and well groomed young men strode confidently along the footpath towards the small office of the local sheriff. The younger but taller man had manila folders tucked under one arm and was chatting animatedly on his cell phone. The older and slightly shorter man kept up with the long strides as he had a heated argument on his own cell.

They walked in unison cutting an impressive sight through the lunch time crowds, receiving unnoticed looks of approval and openly lustful glances from both men and women they passed by. Single-mindedly focussed on the job at hand neither took the time to receive or to return the glances and looks.

In unison they disconnected their calls and paused long enough in their trek to turn and to exchange identical looks of disgust and frustration.

"No luck?" They spoke at the same time; their voices blending together.

"So Dean, how you wanna do this?"

"Short, fast and furious?" Dean grinned in an attempt to lighten their oppressive moods. "Seriously Sammy, we go and talk to the Deputy, get as much info as possible and then get the hell outta Dodge."

"Sounds like a plan to me Dean, I dunno I have a bad feeling about this case." Sam scratched the back of his neck and looked down at his older brother, "was their much more in Da … the journal?"

"Nope," Dean shook his head and then without another sound strode off, effectively shutting his little brother down once again.

Sam sighed sadly and rubbed his aching forehead again, yet another headache was looming and Dean's 'I'm pissed off at the world and my brother' attitude was not helping to dispel it at all.

"You coming or what Sam?" Dean stopped in front of the sheriff's department and turned to look back at his brother, impatience clearly etched on his ruggedly handsome face. "Today would be good Sam."

Heaving another sigh Sam pushed himself towards his brother and tried to swallow down on the rising pain, living with a 'grieving' Dean was bad enough without adding a 'pissed off' Dean to the mix. "Yeah I'm coming, don't get all bent out of shape."

S—D

The interview with Deputy Sheriff Ted Whittaker did not help the brothers at all, he was obviously lying or hiding something and his condescending attitude only served to fuel Dean's growing temper.

"Just calm down Dean before you have an aneurysm." Sam finally ground out as he watched his brother let his temper build while he paced the small area between their motel beds. "We'll just have to go with what we've got."

"Which is jack-shit Sam," Dean said as he sat down on his own bed, "did Bobby have anything we could use?"

"Nope but he said that he'll keep looking and for us idjits not to rush in half-cocked like we normally do."

Dean pulled out his hip flask and took a long swig of his whiskey before looking at Sam again, "so what do we have?"

"Ahh okay there's been three deaths in the last three months all on the eleventh of each month, which mean if there is to be another one it'll happen in two days." Sam paused and glanced at Dean for a second before continuing his case-rundown. "From all of the signs so far they could be either ritualistic sacrifices or the victims of a Gorathic moth."

"A fucking giant moth." Dean shook his head and then took another mouthful from the flask.

"Well, that is generalised but yeah, it has moth like wings, and a body shaped like a man but with the antenna and stuff of a normal moth. They're ancient and considered legend only until now."

"And they just happen to appear here, when we arrive." Dean shook his head and then stood up suddenly startling his brother. "I'm going on a food run."

"Want me to come with?"

"What? No, nah man it's alright I'm just gonna go down to the diner and then to get some beers I'll be right back."

"Dean…"

"Shut it Sam." Dean growled as he pulled his leather jacket on and slammed out of the motel room.

Sam stared at the door for a few more minutes after Dean had left; he had a look of utter devastation on his pale face, unshed tears shone in his moss-green eyes but he refused to let them fall. He was done crying for his father's passing and for his brother's inability to deal. He had reached the end, the bottom of a very big barrel. Swaying slightly as he scrabbled to his feet Sam lurched towards the bathroom hoping that a long, hot shower would help ease his now thumping headache.

S—D

Dean dropped the six pack of beer on the passenger seat before climbing in behind the steering wheel; he had procrastinated long enough and had to get back to Sam.

"Dammit Sammy why do you have to make it so hard?" He said startling himself by speaking out loud, "you're losing it big time Winchester." Dean knew that he was not being totally fair to Sam, it wasn't his brother's fault for what happened to their father, to any of them for that matter it was just that he had such a deep anger and no where to let it out. Yawning widely, Dean slowly reversed out of the carpark and headed back to the small motel where they were currently holed up in.

As he got closer Dean sat up and was suddenly stone-cold sober and wide-awake when he saw the flashing lights from too many police cars to count and a crowd forming around the motel's carpark.

Pulling up down the block Dean locked the Impala carefully before heading back to the motel to try and to find out what was going on and to find his younger brother without alerting the police of their presence. 'Easier said than done.'

"What happened?" He asked an older looking lady who was clutching a small dog to her chest.

"Not too sure, but it sounds like a young man just went crazy in one of the rooms, he started smashing everything and attacked the clerk when he went to see what was going on. That's when the police were called. Such a shame he looks like such a nice young man."

"Thanks ma'am." Dean muttered he could barely hear himself over his now thudding heart, he froze though when he heard the next words out of the woman's mouth.

"It seems as though he was screaming about a giant moth, poor boy."

Dean broke into a run and tried to get closer to Sam, his brother needing him now more than ever, 'ah Sammy what happened? Did the moth come to take you?' The thought made his stomach start to roil as he dry heaved. Taking a deep breath Dean pushed his way through the crowd just as he saw the police dragging out his baby brother. They had him in shackles and surrounded by four of them as they tried to manhandle him into the back of a waiting ambulance. The look on his brother's face nearly broke Dean's defences completely, his eyes shone darkly with pure terror but his face held a wild, almost feral look as he fought desperately against the hands and chains holding him captive.

"Sorry Sir you have to stay back." A uniformed woman tried to block his way making Dean almost growl at her in frustration.

"You don't understand, that's my brother …" Dean blurted out, his concern for Sam obliterating any logical thought or story from his mind. "Please let me go to him, he needs me."

"He's your brother?" The officer regarded Dean warily.

"Yeah I'm Dean Singer and that's my little brother Sam … please I can get him to calm down but I have to get to him."

"Sheriff Waite …" the officer called out to the sheriff, "we've got his brother here."

"Let him through then," the middle aged man turned and stared at Dean for a few seconds, "can you get through to him?"
"He'll listen to me Sir," Dean nodded willing to agree to just about anything as long as he was able to get to his brother. With the sheriff next to him Dean was guided towards the back of the ambulance where they were trying to manhandle Sam onto a gurney and to strap him down with the soft restraints. "Back off dude." Dean snarled as he pushed the attendant away and settled down next to Sam. "Sammy, hey dude what's going on?"

Sam turned towards the familiar voice, for some reason he was not sure why but he felt safer. "M-moth coming … flames … burning … no … no … no." Sam screamed hoarsely as he fought the restraints, 'help me please have to find Dean."

"Sammy hey Sammy calm down, it's me, it's Dean I'm right here dude." Dean cupped Sam's cheeks in his hands and forced him to focus on his face. "Look at me, right at me dude I'm right here."

"Dean?" Sam blinked and squinted up at the face floating above him, "you-you real?"

"Yeah dude I'm real but what's going on with you?"

"The moth … had to fight … sacrifice … can't let it get Dean."

"Sam … where the hell did these bruises and cuts come from?" Dean demanded when he caught sight of the fresh bruises forming on Sam's face.

"He put up a helluva fight." One officer said as he flexed his fists, "someone had to try and knock some sense into the freak."

"My brother is not a freak." Dean said his voice pitched low and sounded too calm, almost lethal.

S—D

Six hours after they had admitted Sam to the psychiatric ward at the local hospital, Dean was finally allowed to see his brother again. During his six hour wait, he had to answer a barrage of questions, fill out forms and give a formal statement all before he could contact their Uncle Bobby Singer, their only living guardian and family member left to come and to help with finding out what was happening with Sam.

"Sammy?" Dean said softly as he entered the private observation room, he sucked in a deep breath and stopped suddenly when he saw his sasquatch of a brother stretched out on a bare bed, his ankles, wrists, waist and throat all constricted and trapped by leather restraints. Dressed only in thin cotton pants, Sam's upper body was completely bare save for the electrodes attached to his chest. A light sheet covered his lower body to his waist but his feet remained uncovered and an IV line protruded from a cannula fixed in his right wrist and wrapped tightly with gauze. The bruises now marred most of Sam's colourless face, his left eye was swollen shut, and he his lower lip was swollen and split. "Oh God Sammy what did they do to you?" Dean whispered as he continued to mentally catalogue the rest of Sam's injuries, including a spongy looking bruise on his lower left side and the split knuckles on both of Sam's hands though the fingers on his left hand were all misshapen, swollen and discoloured.

A soft groan brought Dean's attention back to his brother's face, as he watched him try to return to consciousness. "That's it Sammy, come on back to me dude." Dean coached him softly as he tenderly palmed Sam's cheek, "time to wake up now Sam."

"M-moth … giant … mo … mother … no … argh … " Sam cried out before he started to giggle uncontrollably, "big wings and it flew in … whoosh …"

"Sammy, hey look at me dude I need ya to calm down." Dean whispered as loudly as he dared, "we've gotta get ya outta here."

"Whoosh … into the room … straight through the wall … hissed at me … it hissed … argh head hurts." Sam said as he started to thrash his head about trying to stop the pounding headache once again take up residence in his head.

"Sam hey come on … snap out of it bro we have to get you outta here."

"Dean?" Sam blinked and stared up at his brother, recognition shining bright in his eyes, "what happened?"

"You've gotta tell me dude, you're the one strapped down and in here. What went on when I went to get food?"

"Yes Mister Singer I'm sure that we would all like to hear that." An unknown voice interrupted the brothers, growling softly Dean turned around to see the sheriff come into Sam's room accompanied by an officious looking man dressed in a grey suit, grey tie and white shirt.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean stepped between the new arrivals and his brother's bed effectively cutting off their view of Sam.

"I'm sorry Dean," the sheriff said with a genuine look of regret on his face, "this is Doctor Felix Underwood, the DA wants him to examine Sam, he's their psychologist."

"Psychiatrist Sheriff … I am not a mere psychologist." The man sniffed with obvious disdain.

"I am here to assess Sam Singer to see if he is to be committed without trial or if he is fit enough to stand trial."

"Whoa now just wait a minute, what the fuck are you on about?"

"Your brother's psychotic break may be real or a clever ruse to cover up …"

"Cover up what exactly?" Dean asked his voice icily calm as he took a step closer to the arrogant man.

"His involvement in the recent disappearances and murders here …"

"You are fucking kidding me … Sammy hasn't killed anyone."

"Ah so if that is the case then how has he knowledge of the so-called Moth-man, that information has not been released to the public."

'Oh fuck.' Dean scrubbed his hands over his face as he tried to put all of this into some sort of logical thought but he was brought back to the moment when he felt a slight tug on his jacket. Turning slowly Dean looked down to where Sam had twisted his good hand into the hem of his leather jacket and then up to his brother's face. He almost lost control himself when he saw the lost look on his brother's face and the confusion and fear reflecting in his eyes but it was all counteracted with the look of sheer trust and faith when their gazes locked.

"Get the hell out of here Doctor whatever your name is." Dean snarled without turning around, "yer not getting near my brother in a blue fit."

"Now see here Mister Singer …"

"Get out, Sam is not speaking to anyone of you bastards until our uncle gets here and we can organise a lawyer." Dean turned a stony face towards the psychiatrist, "someone beat my brother to a pulp, did something to him to make him lose it and to see giant moths, he is not a killer and does not deserve to be committed."

"I can force the issue if I have to Mister Singer."

"What the hell is goin' on here?" Bobby's familiar voice helped shatter Dean's anger fuelled defence. "I'm Bobby Singer, the boys' uncle what the hell is going on and what is … what the hell are you doing to Sam?"

"He …"

A primal raw scream from Sam silenced the arguing and they all turned to the bed just as Sam tried to crawl up the mattress but couldn't move because of his restraints. "No, no he's here please let me go … let me go."

"Sam? Sam? What's wrong? What's happening?" Dean tried to get his brother's attention but Sam's gaze was firmly fixed on the corner of the ceiling nearest the door, his eyes wide and unblinking, as he tried to escape from his invisible attackers.

"Sam dude you hafta calm down," Dean tried to regain his brother's attention but it was useless whatever Sam was fixated on as he continued to stare at the corner, whimpering incoherently, blood and foam formed on his lips when he bit his tongue. Flinching he pulled away from Dean's touch only to recoil when their connection was broken. He was so confused, the strangers were all so angry and the non-strangers were all angry and sad at the same time.

"Sheriff get that idjit outta here now," Bobby shook his own shock off and took control of the situation before it spiralled even further out of control. "Dean has there been any other doctors in to see Sam?"

"Ahh yeah a Doctor Sara Griffin, she was the first one to see him. I dunno who ordered the restraints."

"They're because your brother attacked two of my deputies when they tried to arrest him. He broke the nose of one and fractured two ribs in the other man. Until we know for sure that he won't attack anymore people they are to stay on." The sheriff said slowly and clearly, his hand resting on the heel of his gun.

"Aint good enough Sheriff, that kid has been beaten to hell and back again … who did that to him?"

"He resisted arrest and had to be subdued." The sheriff stammered slightly.

"I want to see that doctor in here now," Bobby said, "is she another shrink or is she a medical doc?"

"Another shrink Bobby," Dean answered for the suddenly silent men, "these been no medical doctor to see Sammy yet, his fingers haven't even been reset."

"His fingers?" Bobby moved closer to the bed, mindful of Sam's skittishness and looked down at the battered digits, 'that is reasonable force is it Sheriff?"

S—D

After spending a rough night at a new motel Dean and Bobby headed towards Sam's room in the hospital bright and early in the morning, the only thoughts on their minds was to get Sam out of the locked ward before they got too much information out of him and then to find out what was really going on.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" A nurse asked Dean and Bobby as they came to a stop at the nurse's station.

"Yeah we've come to see Sam Singer," Dean said impatiently.

"Would you like to take a seat in the waiting room and I'll page Doctor Griffin for you." The nurse said as she quickly read the computer screen.

"Where's my brother?" Dean asked a feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Dean, Mister Singer please come to my office so we can talk," Doctor Griffin said as she hurried towards the two men, she hated this part of psychiatry.

'What the … what is going on Doctor?" Bobby asked placing a restraining hand on Dean's shoulder as they sat down in the well-appointed office.

"What have you done with my brother?" Dean asked as he fought to control his own emotions.

"The DA decided to lay charges against Sam last night, they had a court order to remove Sam to the psych ward at the prison, I'm not sure how he did it all but they took your brother in the middle of the night."

"How did they get him out of here without him freaking out?" Dean asked unable to really process what the doctor had just said.

"Sedation, that Doctor Underwood was with the officers when they served the papers he had Sam sedated before the nurses could let me know. I am truly sorry gentleman but the paperwork was all in order, there was nothing I could do."

"Where's this prison?" Bobby asked leaning forward slightly but he still managed to keep his hand anchored on Dean's shoulder.

Sara pulled a small notepad out of her drawer and quickly wrote down the name of the prison, directions to get there as well as the name of the doctor in charge and the warden's name. "I wish that there was more I could do."

"Can you tell me if they managed to reset his hand?"

"Yes, I can assure you that a medical physician examined Sam, reset the fingers and strapped them as well as attending to his other wounds."

"Thanks Doc." Dean said as he stood up and strode out of the office, not waiting for Bobby or to turn back to the doctor. He was a hunter on a hunt, but this time it was to save his brother's life and his sanity.

TBC