"Well I heard a quiet man's half a man

With no sense of pride

If I have to cry to keep you

I don't mind weeping

If weeping's gonna keep you by my side."

Ain't Too Proud to Beg by The Rolling Stones

The set of his jaw tells Sam as much as the narrowed and flashing green eyes that Dean is less than pleased with his brother as he is escorted into the family counseling room. Sam decides to ignore the look as he grabs Dean in a sneak attack hug, the narrow space not giving the older Winchester any way to physically back out of it. Sam hides his grin from his brother who is trying to throw Sam off without turning the embrace into a wrestling match the orderly needs to break up. Finally, Dean just stops, still and stiff while his younger brother hugs him.

"Hey, Dean, quit being a jerk," Sam says as he thumps him on the back and releases him, but then Sam has to grab his shoulders to steady him because Dean pulls away and off-balances. "Come over here and sit. Doctor Smith is going to be here in a minute. We've got some ideas that I think you'll be okay with." Sam feels good, not physically good…physically he feels like something the cat hacked up…but he feels better about Dean. Losing the gnawing pit of worry over his brother's mental health is a great relief. Talking to the doctor, well, let's just say it was therapeutic. Sam laughs to himself and thinks Dean should try actually talking to his doctor.

Dean slouches in his chair still scowling, but he contains his sprawl, refusing to touch Sam, giving his brother a terse, "Sam" as greeting. Dean doesn't do captivity well; and Sam knows that and isn't mad at the passive-aggressive nature of Dean's non-hug and sparse greeting. By the end of this session, Sam knows he'll have gotten his brother on board with the plan and moving toward recovery. Maybe, just maybe, the brothers Winchester will end up in a better state of mental health than either of them has been in before. And Sam knows Dean will agree to try it, or Sam is ready to plead, make puppy dog eyes, hell, cry if he has to. Dean'll give in because he always does.

The room is about the size of a large closet and it contains four upholstered chairs, two pairs facing each other, and Sam tugs him down beside him. The space is beige and undecorated except for a huge poster of an emotion wheel that lists primary and secondary emotions. When the door opens again, Doctor Smith enters carrying a knapsack which she places on the chair beside her as the orderly steps out of the room.

The body language from Dean is screaming how he feels, but the doctor decides to make him verbalize it. Recognizing what you feel – being able to put a name to it – is a step toward dealing with emotions in a healthy adult manner. "Hello, Sam, Dean. How are you feeling?" When Doctor Smith asks it, it's not a banal greeting; it's a request for information.

"I'm feeling like I should be released instead of incarcerated," Dean returns, voice dripping saccharine.

The older woman gives him a small smile. "We talked earlier …"

"You talked," Dean interrupts. She nods, "I talked to you about primary and secondary emotions. If you look at the inside of the wheel, you can see it identifies sad, mad, scared, joyful, powerful, and peaceful as the core feelings. Could you tell me which of those you most feel right now?"

"I'll take mad for $200, Alex," Dean snipes, and Sam starts counting under his breath to stop from wanting to smack his brother. Making references to television game shows is more deflection.

"I'd say I'm scared," Sam says, and watches anger get flushed out of his brother for anxiety. Dean pops into big brother mode. "What are you scared of Sam? I'm the one who's…" He glances over at the chart. "What's the opposite of powerful? I'm locked up, that's the opposite. But that makes me mad."

"Well, Dean. I chose scared because I feel anxious about you and your well-being, and rejected when you won't even hug me back. Then I feel insecure and discouraged, so, yeah, scared fits best right now."

Dean looks over to the chart. "Damnit, Sam. You saying stuff like that when I'm feeling pretty justified in my anger about you letting people lock me up makes me feel stupid and remorseful and depressed, and they all fall into the big sad category. And that makes me feel frustrated and hurt, so now I'm back in the mad category; and this whole thing is making me nuts, and I swear if you or the doctor smirk at me for making me talk about my feelings, I'm gonna get overwhelmed – and for some reason it's in the scared category. And I don't want to go there."

Sam is trying to hold back a smile because Dean is actually talking about his feelings; and, yeah, they're kind of jumbled right now and all falling in the negative zones, but he's talking. Instead, Sam says matter-of-factly, "So hug me back, so I don't feel rejected."

"What? Right now? In front of…" Dean trails off with a huff and a glance at the doctor. "You're both sneaky. Where does manipulated fall on the chart? 'Cause I'll tell you something, little brother, it's the opposite of powerful too." But even while he's grousing, Dean reaches for Sam's shoulder and squeezes, and Sam realizes those shoulder pats and squeezes his brother has given him for years are mini-hugs. Sam grins at his brother and barely refrains from pulling him into another bear hug. Baby steps, he tells himself. As long as they're leading to recovery that's okay.

Dean clears his throat and turns back to the doctor. "Okay, what was that supposed to accomplish?"

"It's supposed to help you be able to figure out where your negative feelings are coming from before you act on them because that mostly only leads to more of the same types of feelings. I'd like for you to tell me if there are any positive feelings you felt today and what you were doing when they occurred."

Sam watches as Dean's eyes flick around the chart on the wall. "You mean, like I felt kind of relaxed when I was getting the massage?" And Doctor Smith smiles. "Exactly like that, Dean. And I'm happy to hear that the massage was effective. You will need to find some ways to relax to help yourself when you leave here. Were any of the other therapies we tried today effective?"

Dean crosses his arms in front of him and snorts. "I want Sam to have to answer that question too. I, uh," and his eyes fly to the chart again, "feel insecure and embarrassed when I gotta talk about it but no one else does."

"Hopeful, Dean. I feel hopeful right now, like we can do this. Like I can stop worrying so much about you. Like if I get you out of here, maybe you'll take good enough care of yourself that you'll be okay. I want to hug you again." Sam can hardly contain himself, but holds off because Dean looks horrified.

"Hugs are important," Doctor Smith says. "Research show that people who get at least seven hugs a day are the most well-adjusted people. Hugs help cure depression and insomnia; they reduce stress levels and boost self-esteem too."

A strangled noise from Dean draws the other two's attention. "I can't find how I feel on the list!" He starts, voice cracking. He clears his throat and turns toward his brother. "There's no frikkin' way I'm gonna to be hugging you seven times a day, dude. That's, that's just too weird! And there's other ways to show someone you care. Seriously. Listen, man, I don't have to hang on you to be trying to help and take care of you. I can fix you breakfast or a sandwich, that's like hugs from me… Or when I go shopping a pick up the stuff you like without asking. Sam, I'm not, I'm not real talkative about it, but I always…" Dean's obviously becoming distressed, almost hyperventilating and unable to articulate his thoughts.

Sam leans over him and rubs Dean's back trying to calm the older man. "It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay." But Dean's words sent darts of shame through Sam because Dean has always done things like feed him and take care of him. Sam had just never thought of those that way, and it makes him realize he takes those actions from his brother for granted. He takes Dean for granted. The worst part of the feeling he gets, though, is thinking about how Dean has always bought food especially for Sam, things Dean doesn't even eat, like health foods and salad, and how Dean has done it without even waiting to be asked. In his mind, Sam contrasts that with how often, even when his brother specifically asks, Sam doesn't pick up any pie. It sounds petty; but added up the occurrences over the years; Sam realizes he has been guilty of withholding love in a form his brother recognizes.

Doctor Smith clears her throat to get their attention. "So, I think that went really well," she says, ignoring the choked sound from Dean. "And I think this is a good time to explain these journals I have for both of you." She holds up two notebooks, identical except for the colors. She flips one open to the front cover to show a small chart like the one on the wall. Then she opens it to a lined page.

"Each day I want to both to write down your overall primary positive and negative emotion of the day, and then what happened to make you feel that way. Besides that, I want you to note how many physical hugs you gave or received. I'm going to start you both out with a minimum of three per day. Find the time to do it privately if it's going to embarrass you." The doctor is in full lecture mode. "I expect, if you two are serious about wanting Dean to recuperate and not relapse, that you will do this every day for the next fourteen weeks; that's the length of time I would normally keep someone who had such a severe acute reaction to anxiety."

She fixes first Dean and then Sam with a firm look. "During these next fourteen weeks, I want liquor cut out of your diet. Additionally, I want you both to get at least thirty minutes of exercise, walking or swimming, every day – and I want what it was noted in the journal. I also want you to note what meals you eat and how many hours you sleep. I want you both to find a new hobby – not work related – and spend at least half an hour per day on it. And, finally, I prescribe at least one massage per week. You can have as many hot baths as you like between. You are not allowed to hide the journals from each other, and I expect them to be truthful. Am I understood?"

Dean looks at her with his forehead furrowed. "No, I don't get it. I mean, yeah, I understand. Emotions, hugs, eat, sleep, exercise, hobby and massage. That I understood. I mean, does this mean…? Are you letting me go?" When she nods her head, she is treated to the first full-blown Dean smile she has seen.

"Wait a minute," Sam interrupts. "What about pills? Shouldn't Dean be on some pills?"

Doctor Smith shakes her head. "Pills are never the answer for these things by themselves. They are just a stop-gap measure until the therapy helps, and it's dangerous to use them if you're not under doctor's care. Additionally, Sam, based on what you said about how dangerous your jobs are, I think the side effects could be detrimental." She looks at Dean. "As the older sibling, I want you to be the example here and follow doctor's orders. Your mental health is as important as your physical. Got that?"

Dean nods his head. "Yes, ma'am." He stands up, and holds his hand out to Doctor Smith. When she takes it, Dean pulls her up into a hug. "Thank you," he adds.

. . . . . . .

Things have not gone back to the way things were before, not completely. Sam and Dean are actually being more careful with each other and trying to follow the program the doctor gave them. Sam even tried to bake Dean a pie, with mixed results. It was completely inedible, but Dean walked around with a huge smile for hours.

A few days after that, Dean walks into the MoL bunker, back from a walk into town where he went to a massage therapist and then picked up some groceries and beer on his way back (because beer isn't alcohol in Dean's book) and he sits down to note his exercise in his journal.

Sam comes stumbling into the room looking disheveled from sleep and ill. Dean makes a crack about his hair and gets told to shut up. But it's easy banter, and Dean even tries to keep it light when Sam's reaction time is so slow a tossed beer flies past him to explode on the floor. He makes a mental note to himself, "How does that make me feel? Terrified."

The "You Have Email" notification pops up on the laptop, and Sam checks it. "It's from Charlie. 'In the neighborhood, found you guys a case.' Found us a case?"

"In the neighborhood?" Dean asks.

But they both think it'll be nice to see Charlie again, and maybe spread the hugs around a little.