Welcome to the Writers Guild

It had been a long day of driving for the two brothers in the black '67 Chevy Impala that made its way down a darkened highway in Ohio. The younger of the two sat at the wheel, listening to one of his brother's many cassette tapes as he drove the Impala towards the next town. The older brother was sitting in the passenger seat, slumped against the passenger door, snoring lightly. The younger man reached over and turned down the music on the stereo to a mere whisper, so as to hopefully not wake up his brother. He returned his gaze back to the road. They passed a sign stating they were about to enter 'Sterling, Ohio' in just under 10 miles.

“About time.” Sam grumbled under his breath. It's not that Sam couldn't have kept driving, but they had been driving all day and both he and his brother could use a rest. He slowed the Impala down as they entered the quiet little town. Sam kept his eyes peeled for a motel as the rain began to pitter-patter against the windshield. Not long after leaving the downtown area, Sam came across said motel and pulled into the parking lot. Having turned the car off, Sam got out of the car and closed the door as he headed towards the motel front desk to book them a room for the night.

Tap, tap, tap. Huh? What the hell was that? Dean thought to himself as he slowly awoke from his restful slumber. He cracked open his eyes and peered at his brother who was softly knocking on the passenger window.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm up.” Dean muttered as he opened his door and got out of the car and slammed the door shut.

“I got us a room already. Figured we could stop here for the night.” Sam answered as he opened the door and grabbed his duffel bag from the backseat. Dean rubbed his eyes and winced as he grabbed his bag from his brother.

Damn poltergeist had to throw me into a wall ... Dean thought sarcastically. Sam tossed the keys to Dean and told him the room number so Dean went on ahead and opened the motel door and went in and looked around. The motel room walls were cream in color, with two beds on the right side, and a small table by the far wall. There was a TV sitting on a small wooden dresser on the left side of the mini fridge. The bathroom was past the two beds, on the other side of the room. The carpet was a mash of different colors and had seen better days. Still, this wasn't the worst place they'd stayed in.

A slam of the motel room door brought Dean out of his thoughts as his brother walked past him and placed his duffel bag on the furthest bed.

“So... you want to get something to eat? I'm starved. Maybe we could head out to the bar after.” Dean asked as he tossed his bag at the foot of the table and laid down on top of his bed. Dean had slept the last three hours in the car and felt quite rested. Sam had insisted that he drive so that Dean could get some sleep, because after having been thrown into a few walls during their last gig, he was nursing bruised ribs.

“Yeah I guess so. You want to stay here for a few days? There haven't been any gigs on the radar and we could use a little break.” Sam wanted to stay in town for a few days. Not that he cared about the town in particular, but it would give them the chance to restock some supplies and give Dean the time he needed to recuperate from his injuries from the last hunt. That ghost had been a pain in the ass to get rid off. Before they had finished the job, Sam had been tossed down a flight of stairs, and Dean had been thrown into four different walls before Sam had located the bones and salted and burned them. Sam managed to walk away with only a few bumps and scrapes, while his brother hadn't gotten quite so lucky.

Dean didn't answer Sam's question right away. He knew the real reason why Sam wanted to stay in town for a couple of days and, to be honest, he didn't mind relaxing for a few days until his ribs healed, or at least until they found a new gig to work.

“Yeah I guess we can take it easy for a few days, so long as they have a decent bar and diner around here.” Dean could visibly see his brother's relief and couldn't help but sheepishly grin at his brother.

“Yeah. I think I saw a diner three blocks down the road.” Sam had remembered seeing 'Brian's Diner' as he had drove past looking for a motel that they now found themselves staying in. Dean grabbed his jacket and keys and headed out towards the Impala, with Sam closing their motel door and getting into the passenger seat. The Impala roared to life and they took off in search of some decent food.

They both entered the small diner and sat at the back, near the window. The small, petite brunette woman in her early 40's handed them their menus and left to go and serve other customers. After placing their orders, Sam pulled out his laptop and began checking some emails as well as looking for any jobs.

“No. Nothing that I can find.” Sam wearily closed down the computer and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Yeah sounds like. Well I guess we can have some fun at the bar tonight then.” Dean answered with a trademark grin. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, just as the waitress named Kate brought them their dinner. Sam watched in horrified awe as Dean nearly swallowed his whole plate of food in less than five minutes.

“You're going to choke on your food if you keep shovelling it into your mouth like that, Dean.”

Dean looked up at Sam with a mouth full of food and answered, “Nof I vont.” Sam let out an exasperated sigh and sat there picking at his food, while Dean continued to consume his at record speed.

“Ah now that was a good meal.” Dean stated as he rubbed his belly, which was content with the food he had just eaten.

The local bar was just like any other bar they had seen as they pulled the Impala into the parking lot. They made their way inside and were met by a haze of smoke and stale air as they took their seats at the bar. Sam took a good look at all the patrons inside the bar. There were fourteen in total, ten men, including the bartender, and four females who were all standing around watching four men engage in a game of pool. Three men sat at the other side of the bar, talking quietly to the bartender. The last two men were playing against one another in a game of darts.

Sam's eyes zeroed in on the four men around the pool table. They were a rowdy group, with two of the men being around their early 20's, while the other two were around their late 20's. Sam didn't know why, but he was getting a bad vibe coming from this group. He would be keeping an eye on them.

Dean noticed his brother's careful examination of the people in and around the bar. Sam was a stickler for detail. Dean also cast a glance around the room, taking in the number of people and their location. One of the ladies who had been watching the pool game moved away and Dean took one more swig of his beer and walked over to introduce himself. Dean had told Sam that if anyone asked, they were new doctors starting their own practice in Massachusetts. Sam had rolled his eyes at him and his brother's 'new occupation' which meant only trying to get some 'attention' from the ladies. Sam ordered another beer as he watched his brother flirting with the girl out of the corner of his eye.

Typical older brother. Sam thought as he took another sip from his beer. The bartender started making small talk with some of the other patrons in the bar before making his way over to Sam.

“So son, do you live here in town, or just passin' through?” Sam looked up from his beer and peered at the older man.

“Just passing through. I'm actually on a road trip with my brother.” Sam nodded his head in Dean's direction.

“Yeah we've done a bit of sight seeing and such.” The man nodded his head in understanding.

“Well nothings better than spending time with family, that's for sure.” Sam looked over at his brother, who was still conversing with the pretty blonde woman from earlier, before returning his attention to the bartender. With a quick smile, Sam answered, “Yeah, family is the most important thing.”

Dean was enjoying himself. Here he was with this lovely blonde woman named Shelly... or was it Shelia? It didn't matter, as they moved their way over to where four men had just finished their game of pool.

“Mind if I play a game with you guys? Maybe make the game more interesting by betting some money on the game.” The four men looked skeptically at the man before them. The oldest of the four men, Matt, acknowledged Dean and handed him a pool stick.

“How much are you willing to bet?” Matt sneered as he gazed at the new comer.

“However much you're willing to lose.” Dean replied with a mocking grin. Matt's other three friends looked towards their friend, wondering if their short-tempered pal would blow a fuse. Matt merely huffed in response.

“I'll bet 200.” Matt motioned for his friends to join in on the game. They hesitantly pulled out 200 each and placed it on the table. Dean reached into his back pocket and retrieved two 100 bills and added it to the pile.

Man, they never get any smarter. Oh well. More money for me. Dean thought smugly to himself as he took the first shot.

Sam had been talking to the bartender, Doug, for the last 40 minutes while the pool game behind him went on. He could hear the other people crowding around the table as the matches got under way. Three matches went on, back to back. Dean won all of them easily. After sinking the last shot, Dean stood up and collected his money after beating Matt.

“Well thank you ladies for the game, but I think my work here is done for the night.” It was nearing 1:30 A.M and Dean was ready to head back to the motel to get some sleep. His ribs weren't hurting too badly, which he was thankful for. Shelia, as it turned out, decided to leave the bar early, but not before giving her cell number to Dean. Sam finished his conversation with Doug and headed out the door behind Dean.

“No little punk comes in here and beats me at pool!” His friends merely nodded their heads in agreement. They were all pissed at being royally beaten by some random guy with a smart-ass mouth. Matt's face twisted into a grin.

“Man, you should have seen how badly I kicked their asses tonight Sam!” Dean was almost bouncing with unshed energy.

“Yeah yeah. I'm sure...” Sam was interrupted by the slamming of the bar door, with four sets of heavy feet coming up behind them.

“Hey! You think you can just walk away with that little stunt you pulled back there, huh!” Both brothers turned around to face the four men. Dean moved in front of Sam and stood there protectively and glared at the young man before him.

“I never lose!” Matt's voice boomed out around them in the empty parking lot. Sam tensed. The rain had started up again, coming down in a light drizzle, making the gravel parking lot a tad slippery.

Dean, why are you always getting yourself into stupid bar fights with people who have a preschool education? Sam didn't have anymore time to ponder that thought as Matt threw the first punch at Dean. Dean easily dogged the intended hit, and drove his fist into Matt's stomach, causing a grunting sound as Matt doubled over in pain. The other three advanced towards Dean. Sam stepped in and took on the first guy. The guy was about 4 inches shorter, but was at least 50 pounds heavier than Sam. The guy threw back a fist and aimed for Sam's face. Sam sidestepped the hit and threw his own punch which hit the guy squarely on the left side of his jaw. His head snapped back and he stumbled backwards a few steps. Sam followed up with two hits to the guy's stomach and another hit to the face. The guy was down on the ground and wouldn't be getting up for a while.

Sam looked over in his brother's direction to see how he was fairing. Sam was fuming as he made his way over to where his brother was fighting, as he watched one of Matt's friends hit Dean in the side of the head.

Dean had dispatched one of the other guys while Matt was still down for the count. He was just turning around, when Dean felt a fist connect with the side of his head.

“Son of a...” Dean muttered as he stumbled sideways a few steps. Dean turned towards the idiot who had just hit him and drove his fist into the guy's face and then kicked the guy in the chest, knocking him down to the ground. The last guy came up behind Dean.

“Dean!” Dean looked at Sam and ducked, just as Sam's fist extended through the space where Dean's head had been. His fist connected with the fourth man's face, knocking him flat on his back. Dean looked back at the man on the ground and chuckled.

“Next time you want to pick a fight, make sure it's a fight you can actually win. Now get lost.” Matt slipped on the wet ground as he tried to stand. He cursed as he and his buddies staggered back into the bar, each one glaring at the brothers as they passed them.

“This isn't over.” Matt growled under his breath, his gaze firmly fixed upon Dean.

“It is for you, buddy-boy.” Dean answered coldly. Dean and Sam waited till the guys were inside the bar before turning their backs and heading towards the Impala.

“The locals sure are friendly.” Dean said dryly as they got into the Impala and closed the doors. Sam merely shook his head.

“Whatever, dude.” Dean muttered as he pulled the Impala out of the parking lot and back onto the main street, while the classic mullet rock was blaring out of the stereo.

After reaching the motel room and slamming the motel door, both brothers collapsed into bed, not even bothering to change their clothes. Dean tossed his jacket onto the table and shut off the lamp on the nightstand and was soon fast asleep. Sam stayed awake a little longer, sleep not coming quite as quickly as it had for his brother. Finally he, too, succumbed to sleep.

The sun's rays came through the motel window, casting a glow across Dean Winchester's muscular back. Dean was just starting to wake up, when he heard the front door open.

Reaching for his knife that lay under his pillow, Dean looked up and realized it was just Sam, holding two cups of coffee and a bag of bagels.

“What time is it?” Dean asked as he sat up and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes, as Sam handed him his cup of coffee. Sam checked his watch as he dumped the bagels and his coffee down on the table.

“Uh... it's just after 7 A.M.” Dean nodded his head and drank some of his coffee. Groaning as he stood up, he placed his half finished coffee on the table and made his way to the bathroom.

“For once, can I just sleep in?” Dean grumbled as he closed the bathroom door. Sam just chuckled and sat down at the table and took a sip of his coffee.

After hanging around the motel till just before noon, the brothers decided to get down to work. Dean went ahead and restocked the first aid kit, purchased some ammunition at the town's local gun shop and got the Impala washed and filled up with gas. Sam spent a few hours at the laundromat, washing and drying clothes, a task that both brothers dreaded. The laundromat was only four blocks from the motel, so after finishing the laundry, Sam dumped off the clean clothes at the motel and hurried off to the grocery store that was a short distance away.

Thank goodness for small towns Sam mused as he picked up a big bag of much needed salt and some snacks and drinks. Walking back to the motel, Sam could see the Impala glistening in the afternoon sun and knew his brother was back.

Sam opened the door and kicked the door closed. He placed the grocery bag on the table and sat down on his bed. Dean was busy switching channels on the TV station. Dean suddenly spoke up, with a wicked grin on his face.

“Man, you should have seen this chick at the gas station. I mean she was totally hot. She told me she has this tattoo...” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Geez Sam, don't get your shorts in a knot. It wouldn't kill ya to have some fun once in a while you know. You know what fun is, right?” Sam just merely rolled his eyes, shook his head and sighed.

Some things never change. Sam thought to himself as he laid back on his bed and watched the TV with mild interest.

The brothers sat there in the motel room, watching some lame action movie and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“You wanna go grab dinner, Sam?” Sam took a look at his watch. It was almost 8 o'clock. This was actually somewhat early for the brothers to be eating dinner, but since they were on a break, it didn't really matter what time they ate.

“You know every time I get onions for you, I'm the one who ends up suffering the repercussions.” Sam muttered as he put on his shoes and grabbed his jacket.

Dean just grinned at his brother before replying, “Make sure they put LOTS of onions on then. Thanks!” Just before the door slammed closed.

The air was cooling off as the sun dipped behind the mountains. Sam zipped up his jacket to try and block out the cool wind. It was the end of September, and summer had given way to the beginning of fall. The diner was only three blocks from the motel he and Dean were staying at, so Sam decided to walk to the diner instead of driving the Impala so he could stretch his legs. Few people were walking on the sidewalk on either side of the road. Most had gone home for the night to be with their family, Sam surmised.

Sam walked briskly towards the diner as it came into view. He opened the diner door and closed it, the bell ringing, signalling his presence. Sam made his order and sat in the nearest booth waiting for his food to arrive. Twenty minutes later, the waitress handed the bag of food to Sam, who smiled at her and said a quick thank you before heading out the door.

Sam had not even walked a full block from the diner, when he heard a commotion coming from the small park to his right. Sam switched into hunter mode and moved to the side of the library building, just out of sight of the park. Sam made his way over to the corner of the building and peered over at the group of people standing around inside the park grounds. A woman's pleading voice reached Sam's ears.

“Please Matt. Just let me go.” Her pleading blue eyes searching desperately for understanding and compassion from the five men surrounding her. She knew only two of the men. She also knew that they were trouble and that they didn't like anyone crossing them. She hoped the other man she knew would try and reason with this group on her behalf.

“Joey? Please, make Matt understand...” Matt slapped the woman hard across the face, bringing tears to her eyes as she stumbled backwards. Joey didn't move to help her, but had a shocked look upon his face.

“Get up, bitch.” Matt hissed through gritted teeth. Sam had heard and seen enough. He recognized two of the men from the fight he and Dean had gotten into last night. His blood was boiling at the atrocious behaviour of these disgusting men. His father had raised both he and his brother properly, and no way was Sam going to stand by and let an innocent woman get attacked by anyone. Even though Sam disliked fighting, sometimes it was necessary and this situation called for it.

Sam wished he would have been able to call Dean so he could back Sam up. Dean's phone had gotten wrecked during their last hunt, so Sam had lent him his phone, which Sam had forgotten to get back from him. Dean hadn't picked up another phone yet. That was on his 'to do list'. Sam placed the bag of food on the ground by the corner of the library, and walked quietly towards the small crowd.

“We already smashed your car, why not just give us your purse and you can walk away from here, before...” Matt stopped as he saw a figure making its way towards their group.

“You won't lay another hand on her, you arrogant ass.” Sam said through gritted teeth as he reached the rim of the circle and moved past the four other men in order to stand protectively in front of the clearly terrified woman. Matt's face swelled in anger.

“You again?” Sam edged his way towards the edge of the park, his back now towards the street, keeping the woman behind him.

“I want you to take off and get out of here, alright? I'll handle this.” Sam said barely above a whisper to the distraught woman.

“You both are not going anywhere. You got lucky last time you little punk, but your buddy isn't around to help you out this time.” Matt and his friends moved towards Sam, beginning to enclose around him.

This is not good. I wish Dean was here to back me up. I've got to get this woman out of here before things get ugly. Sam thought as he moved himself and the woman back towards the park’s front gates, his eyes never leaving the group of men in front of him.

“When I say go, run. Get as far away from here as you can.” Sam spoke softly, but spoke with conviction. The woman merely squeezed his arm in response, too afraid to reply in words.

“Take him out Steve!” Matt yelled. Steve came at Sam fast, arms swinging. Sam yelled, “Go!” and the woman ran off towards the street, not daring to look back at what would only be a violent blood bath to follow.

Sam blocked the hit from Steve and drove his knee into the guy's chest. Steve dropped to the ground. Brandon was furious.

“That was my cousin you just hit, you little bastard!” Brandon yelled out, throwing a punch at Sam, who ducked, just in time to avoid the hit. Sam threw a punch to Brandon's stomach and then hit him in the face, knocking him to the ground. Joey had snuck up behind Sam and had pinned Sam's arms behind his head. Matt drove his fist into Sam's stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. Sam lifted his feet and kicked out, hitting Matt in the chest and sending him flying, before he came crashing down to the unforgiving ground. Sam managed to get an arm loose, and then drove his elbow into Joey's gut, causing Joey to release him. Sam was about to throw a punch at Joey, when he was tackled by the fifth guy. The guy hit Sam repeatedly in the face, splitting Sam's lower lip, causing blood to run down his chin. Sam threw his own punch which hit the guy's nose, causing a sickening crunching sound as his head snapped to the side. Sam pushed the guy off of him and made his way to a standing position. Sam felt himself swaying slightly before he found his equilibrium.

Sam was breathing hard. His heart was pounding in his chest. His muscles tightening. Even with the adrenaline surging in his veins, Sam was tiring. Matt, Joey, and Steve were all getting back up on their feet. Matt looked down right pissed off. Sam could hear groans coming from the man whose nose he had just broken. Brandon was just 12 feet away on Sam's left, in the fetal position, clutching his stomach and muttering curses to no one in particular.

“I'm gonna get that bastard!” Matt hissed as he lunged towards Sam. Sam began blocking his punches, but some of them were connecting. One snapping his head to the side, while another fist was driven into his ribs, causing Sam to hiss in pain. Sam managed to connect his own punch with Matt's face. Sam followed up quickly with a kick, sending Matt once again to the ground with a thud.

Steve entered the fight again and was trying a kick of his own, which connected with the side of Sam's left hip. Sam grunted in pain and slammed his fist into the left side of the Steve's face. Sam then swung his right leg sideways, catching the back of Steve's legs, making him land hard on his ass.

Matt was getting tired of this. No way could a single guy fight that good! But, here he was, holding his own against five guys? No. It wasn't possible. This guy's friend had pissed him off yesterday by beating him and his friends at pool, and then the both of them knocking Matt and his friends flat on their asses in a fight that they shouldn't have won. They were outnumbered 4-2. Matt was furious at these guys. They had made a fool out of him in his bar, and now the one guy was beating him in a fight? Matt wasn't going to stand for that.

Matt looked around and his eyes rested on his duffel bag that he had brought with him, after smashing up the woman's car. He knew how to fix this. Playing dirty didn't bother Matt.

Joey was facing off against Sam; both circling each other like caged lions. Joey struck first, catching Sam on the left side of his jaw, causing Sam to stumble back. Sam lashed out connecting his right foot with the lower part of Joey's thigh. Joey grunted in pain, clasping his hands around his injured limb. Sam was about to strike again when he heard a noise behind him. Sam had only managed to turn his head in the direction of the noise when the side of his head exploded in pain, as the crowbar connected with flesh and bone. Sam's head snapped to the side from the impact, and his body collapsed to the ground, unmoving. He lay there, on his left side, with his legs crumpled beneath him. Blood was running freely down the right side of his face. Sam was unconscious before he had hit the ground.

Matt dropped the bloody crowbar and observed the scene before him. Pure anger pumped through his veins as his vendetta against this man was not quite finished. He made his way towards Sam and began kicking him brutally in his lower back. Joey, Steve, and Brandon had finally gotten up. They also joined in and began hitting Sam in any spot they could find. Like a bunch of savage animals, the attacks continued, while Sam's body jerked in different directions as his body was exposed to vicious and repeated hits. His ribs cracked under the constant pressure and his left wrist snapped after having been stepped on repeatedly. Sam was kicked onto his back and Matt went to work on Sam's face, grabbing the collar of Sam's shirt and pulling him up. Matt punched him repeatedly, until Matt's knuckles were covered in Sam's blood. The wail of sirens broke through the frenzied activity. Matt looked down at the bloody and beaten man and then gazed back up to his friends.

“Damn it. Grab Joseph and let's get the hell out of here.” He hissed. He dropped Sam and he and Joey moved ahead, while Brandon and Steve helped Joseph to his feet, his nose still dripping blood after having had it broken by Sam. Their footsteps echoing through the chilled air as they moved towards the trails that would lead them away from the park, hidden and far away from the police, who would be arriving to the carnage that they had left behind.

Dean was channel surfing, waiting for Sam to return from the diner with their food. Dean couldn't explain what was taking Sam so long, nor the strange feeling he had in the pit of his stomach that had started about 15 minutes ago.

“Where the hell are you Sammy? You should have been back by now.” Dean was getting restless. He flicked the TV off and tossed the remote, which landed at the foot of his bed. Checking his watch, Dean noted that it was almost 9 P.M, almost an hour after Sam left. Dean was contemplating driving down to see what was taking Sam so long, when his thoughts were interrupted by the chatter on the police scanner sitting on the bedside table.

“We've got a call from a distressed young woman who says there's a fight going on down by Herrick's Park. Apparently a mugging interrupted by a young man who stepped in to help out this young woman. All are in their early to mid 20's. Send a car down to that location.”

“Roger dispatch, 10-4. We're nearing the park.” Dean's sat on his bed, staring at the radio, a range of emotions passing over his face.

“Herrick's Park... that's not even a block away from the diner... Sam.” Realization hit Dean so fast his head was spinning as he hastily grabbed his car keys, slipped on his shoes and jacket and slammed the door behind him.

The Impala roared to life as its owner stepped down on the gas. Dean knew that Sam had probably been involved. He knew his brother could take care of himself, but even Dean knew that he himself would have trouble fighting off a group of guys all at once, though Dean would never admit that to anyone. Dean hoped that Sam wasn't involved, but his gut feeling told him otherwise. Not to mention the fact that Sam should have been back quite some time ago. Dean pushed harder on the accelerator and made his way towards the park.

As Dean rounded the corner, he could see the flashing lights of the police car on the other side of the road, near the park gates. He pulled the Impala to the side of the road and parked. As Dean was getting out of the car, he could hear sirens in the distance. Dean ran over to the park, his heart pounding wildly in his chest with each step that he took towards uncertainty.

Dean made it over to where a small crowd was gathering, just outside of the entrance way to the park. Dean could just make out two cops stationed not thirty feet away, one kneeling down beside a figure and the other watching the growing crowd. Dean swallowed a lump in his throat and pushed his way past the small crowd, disregarding comments about being rude and being juvenile. The sirens were getting louder as Dean made his way over to the police officers. Dean's heart nearly stopped, when his eyes fell upon the figure lying between the two officers, unmoving. Dean's worst fears had been confirmed.

“Sammy!” The police officers turned around as a young man ran the short distance towards them.

“That's my brother! He's my BROTHER!” Dean yelled, as he pushed the one officer out of the way and knelt down beside his brother. The cops didn't try to remove him.

“Oh God. Sammy...” Dean felt tears stinging his eyes as he gazed down at his wounded sibling.

Sam was a mess. There was blood on the ground, around them, and all over Sam. Dean felt nauseous just looking at all the blood, his little brother's blood.

God, why didn't I just go with him to pick up some food? Why didn't I go look for him when he took too long to come back to the motel? Why didn't I make him to take a weapon with him? Why did this happen to him? So many thoughts of 'whys' danced through Dean's frazzled mind.

“Sammy? Can you hear me man? You gotta get up Sam.” Dean pleaded weakly to his unconscious brother, as he picked up his brother's cold hand and held onto it firmly. The Ambulance had finally pulled up and two paramedics were running towards them, pulling a gurney beside them.

The scene that greeted the paramedics was like nothing they had seen in their many years on the job. Even though it was a small town, they had seen their share of bad injuries. This, however, was one of the worst. The broken and beaten young man before them was covered in blood.

They could see another young man was holding their patients hand, whispering much too softly for either of the paramedics to hear. They carefully set their gear down beside Sam and the younger of the two paramedics, Gary, went over and spoke to Dean.

“Sir, can you tell us who your friend is?” Dean looked away from his brother and focused his hazel-green eyes on the paramedic.

“My name's Dean. He's my brother, Sam. Sam Whitefield.” Dean had to pause for a moment to remember what was written on their fake insurance cards. Gary nodded in response.

“Sam? Okay. Dean, can I get you to step back a bit so we can help your brother?” Dean looked towards the paramedic and returned his attention to Sam. He released his brother's hand and placed it gently on the ground and moved back to give Gary more room to help his brother.

“Sam, if you can hear me, can you open your eyes for me?” When Sam didn't comply, Gary set about getting Sam prepped for the trip to the hospital.

“Hey Gary? I'm going to call ahead and tell them to get the chopper in the air. Get him transported over to Broadview General.”

“Alright Rick.” Dean looked back and forth between the two paramedics. His eyes were wide in realization that they weren't taking Sam to the local hospital, where his brother needed to be.

“Excuse me? Don't you have a hospital here? Why aren't you taking him there?” Dean was practically yelling at this point. Gary could sense the fear and frustration rolling off Sam's brother in waves.

“Yes we do have a hospital here, but it is ill equipped to help your brother. His injuries are beyond what a small town hospital can tend to. Broadview is an hour's drive north from here and they have everything your brother is going to need. The chopper will come and pick your brother up and fly him over here. There won't be enough room for you to go with him, so you'll have to drive there. I'm sorry.” Dean was flabbergasted. Gary returned his attention back to Sam. He checked Sam's breathing, while Rick covered Sam's head wound with sterile dressings.

“We've got broken ribs here. Poor breathing sounds on the right. Left side isn't doing well either.” Gary spoke aloud to his partner.

“We've been given the all clear.” Dean watched in horror as Gary gently tilted Sam's head back and Rick inserted the tube down his little brother's throat. Sam was still throughout the whole procedure, not showing any signs of consciousness. Dean was terrified at both the idea that his brother needed a breathing tube, and that his brother didn't even twitch at having a tube shoved down his throat in the first place. A blue bag was attached to the end of the tube protruding from Sam's mouth.

“Dean? Can you help us here? I want to you squeeze the bag like this.” Rick squeezed the bag a few times to show Dean how fast and how hard to squeeze the bag.

“Y-yeah I got it.” Dean's quivering voice replied as he took over squeezing the bag, giving his battered little brother some much needed oxygen. An IV was embedded in Sam's right hand with a saline drip attached. Gary worked on wrapping up Sam's left wrist, while Rick finished covering up his head wound with a sterile bandage, then attaching a collar around Sam's neck.

“Okay, let's get him onto a backboard and get him to the hospital fast.” Dean finally came out of his stupor and helped Gary roll his brother onto his side so Rick could slide the backboard underneath Sam's tall frame. They lifted Sam on the backboard and placed him on the stretcher. Rick took a hold of the bag from Dean and continued to squeeze the bag.

“Dean, you should drive on ahead to Broadview. We'll let them know you are on your way. Sam will be right behind you and will probably get there before you do.” Dean's mouth felt like sandpaper. His mind was a complete blank. He only knew two things. Sam was hurt and Dean wasn't able to travel with Sam on the way to the hospital. Not trusting his voice, Dean nodded his head in confirmation and watched as his brother was loaded into the Ambulance and watched as Sam was taken away in a blaze of flashing red and blue lights.

Dean was on the highway not ten minutes after the ambulance had taken Sam away. He had raced back to the motel and grabbed their stuff and tossed the keys back on the motel front desk, before jumping back into the Impala and racing off towards the hospital.

Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably as the car sped down the highway towards his brother. The empty highway was a parallel to how Dean was feeling. An empty black void of existence lay on the other side if Sam didn't get through this.

“What am I thinking? Of course Sammy is going to be okay. He has to be. God knows I'll kick his ass if he isn't.” He chuckled weakly at the insanity of the whole situation. How had things gone so wrong? It was supposed to be a simple run to the local food joint to pick up some dinner. How had that turned into a gang beating on his little brother? Dean's fear for Sam also coincided with how seriously pissed off he was at the guys who did this to his little brother.

Those guys better pray they are locked up because if I get a hold of them, they’ll know the meaning of “painful death” explicitly. Dean thought venomously.

Normally if Sam had been injured, it was caused by some poltergeist or spirit or some other supernatural being. Something that Dean could run off and salt and burn its ass into oblivion. But this time, it was just plain ordinary people who had shattered Dean's reality in a mere 20 minutes. Tearing away from his haunted thoughts, Dean pressed down on the gas pedal harder as he neared the city of Broadview.

The loud whirling sound of the helicopter's blades could be heard from the roof of Broadview General Hospital as a team of doctors and nurses awaited for the arrival of one Sam Whitefield.

The chief practitioner and brain surgeon, Dr. Rowland, was already informed of Sam's initial injuries by the staff at the hospital in Sterling. Not ten minutes ago, it was informed that their patient's heart had stopped beating. There had been no more communication between the chopper and Dr. Rowland. He had assembled a team to wait with him to take their patient-to-be off the chopper. As the helicopter descended, the doctor had no idea if he would be trying to resuscitate a young man, or sending a body down to the morgue.

Dean practically ran into the hospital like the devil himself was after him. He disregarded the looks that other patients and staff members shot at him as he made his way over to the receptionist’s desk. A young brunette woman was munching on cookies staring at the computer screen, while drumming her manicured nails on the large oak desk.

“Can you tell me if my brother, Sam Whitefield, has arrived yet? He was being transported here by helicopter from Sterling.” He asked curtly. The nurse looked up from the screen and took a good look at the young man before her. She grinned sheepishly as she looked up the information on a Sam Whitefield. After a few moments, she relayed the information to Dean.

“Yeah he arrived here about 20 minutes ago. He was taken down to get an MRI. I'll page his doctor for you.” She practically oozed affection and at the present time, Dean just wasn't in the mood. He had to find out how is brother was doing.

“Yeah, do that.” His replied harshly as he made his way over to the nearest chair, listening as the PA asked for a Dr. Rowland to come to reception. Dean kept bobbing his knee up and down in nervous anticipation as he waited for Sam's doctor to hopefully give Dean some good news on his brother's condition.

When a man in a white coat appeared at the desk, Dean stood up and made his way over to the doctor. The doctor looked up and latched eye contact with a young man who was clearly distressed.

“Are you the brother of Sam Whitefield?” Dean got a good look at Sam's doctor. He was a man in his mid forties, with black hair that was beginning to gray along the sides. He was almost the same height as Dean, perhaps an inch or two shorter. A stern face was a mere cover for the softness that lay behind the deep blue eyes.

“Yes. I'm his older brother Dean. How is he?” Dean's voice quivered with unbridled fear. The doctor nodded his head in the direction of his office just a few doors down from reception. Once they were both seated, Dr. Rowland gave a sympathetic look before acknowledging Dean's heart wrenching question.

“Your brother's heart stopped beating about ten minutes before he arrived here. They were able to get his heart beating before they landed. He was rushed in here and was taken down to have a MRI done. The scans showed that your brother suffered a fractured skull, which is now causing bleeding in Sam's brain. It's called an epidural hematoma. Basically, it's pressure on Sam's brain tissue, caused by a bleed in the brain. Normally the bleed is from an artery, which causes bigger problems. Sam is unconscious and has been unresponsive since arriving here.” The doctor paused to allow the information to sink in. He watched as Dean deflated like a helium balloon that went up too high and suddenly exploded from the pressure. Dean's shoulders slumped and raw fear could be seen emanating from his expressive green eyes.

“We are prepping Sam for surgery now. He has multiple injuries, but the most serious injury is to his head. It looks like he was hit with some sort of metal weapon. Possibly a crowbar as that was one item found at the crime scene or so I've been told.” Whatever color had been in Dean's face drained away as he heard about the condition Sam was in. The doctor continued on with his explanation.

“We are going to perform a craniotomy. What that means is we are going to remove a small piece of Sam's skull and stop the bleeds in his brain. We then put the piece of skull back in place and hold it there using metal plates. After the bone fuses to the skull again, we remove the plates.” The doctor waited to let this all sink in for the man before him.

“Is there anyone else I can contact for you? A Mom or Dad perhaps?” Dean merely looked at him with haunted eyes.

“My parents are dead. It's just me and my brother.” He spoke quietly while averting his gaze with the doctor.

“I'm sorry to hear that. The surgery is going to take some time. Probably at least 4-5 hours and we'll start at about 11 pm. I'll get the receptionist to hand you the forms that you need to fill out. I'll come out and talk with you or I'll send my colleague to talk to you after the surgery is finished.” Dr. Rowland got up from his chair and opened his office door. Dean stood up on shaky legs and walked past the doctor on his way out. Dean took a few steps before he stopped and turned around.

“Doc, what are my brother's chances? Be honest with me.” Dr. Rowland considered what he should tell Dean. The look Dean gave him told him that he needed the truth, not half hearted lies and false hope.

“Dean. 15-20 percent of patients who receive this kind of injury die either on the table or a few days after. With all his other injuries to account for, I give your brother a less than 60 percent chance. I'm sorry I don't have better news.” With that, the doctor turned his back and headed towards the O.R to prepare for the surgery.

Once the doctor was out of sight, Dean leaned against the hospital wall and slid down to the floor.

The last two hours of worry, stark raving fear, rage, pain, and hopelessness were finally catching up with the elder Winchester. Silent tears rolled down Dean's cheeks as he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Sammy might not even make it off the table alive.

How could I have let this happen? Why Sammy? He didn't deserve this. Why the hell did this happen! Dean turned around and faced the wall and lashed out, punching it as hard as he could, leaving a rather large dent in the wall. Cradling his now tender hand, Dean picked himself off the ground and wiped his tears away with the back of his sleeve.

I can't fall apart now. Sammy needs me to be strong. I have to help him get better. He WILL get better. He told himself. With that resolution, he made his way back to the front desk, his momentary breakdown unknown to anyone. He picked up the forms from the flirtatious brunette, whose name was Laura as he stole a look at the name tag. He sat down on one of the many chairs and began filling out the paper work. He handed it back to the perky Laura, whom fluttered her fake lashes Dean's way, only to receive a glare. Today was not a good day for him. He sat back down and waited. The clock read 11:15 PM. Sam's surgery should have started by now. The only thing Dean could do was wait. Wait to find out if he would still have a brother at the end of four or five hours. He'd find out if he would still have a reason to keep fighting, to keep going, in the time that it takes for the doctor to come out and tell him of his brother's fate as well as his own.

Dr. Rowland knew he had a lot resting on his shoulders. He had been doing this job long enough to be used to this kind of pressure. He washed his hands and his nurse and good friend, Natalie, helped put on his surgery garments.

After the gloves and mask were on he made his way to the OR. Sam was lying on the table, a tube protruding from his mouth and his eyes taped shut. The oxygen machine beeping and swooshing as air was pumped into Sam's lungs. A tray of various utensils ranging from scalpels to gauze was placed two feet away from Sam's right shoulder. Dr. Rowland entered the room and everyone moved around quickly, trying to get everything ready.

Four nurses and one other doctor would be involved in Sam's surgery. Dr. Rowland walked over to the other doctor, Dr. Falcon, who would be assisting with the craniotomy. Dr. Falcon had been an apprentice for Dr. Rowland during his years in school. This was only his fourth craniotomy since finishing school just before summer finished.

The clock on the wall read 12:30. Sam had been in surgery just over an hour. So far, no doctor had come out to talk with him, so Dean took that as good news. The plain white walls and the smell of sterile equipment infiltrated Dean's senses. He had already mapped out the whole floor in less than 5 minutes. He had counted the ceiling tiles above the waiting room and took to memorizing the faces of the other people in the room, even though there weren't that many people in the room anyways. A couple sitting across from Dean were waiting on word of their 14-year-old daughter, who had fallen down the stairs and had broken her leg. An older man to Dean's left was waiting to get his shoulder popped back into place after having dislocated it running after his grandson around the house and slipping on the floor. A young mother was waiting on word about her 4-year- old son who had a bad case of the stomach flu. None of them had the fear and anxiety levels that Dean was experiencing.

Dean had already downed six cups of coffee before the hour was up and was working on his seventh. The coffee sucked, but it was a way to keep himself busy while he waited for Sam to be out of surgery. Dean contemplated what was going on back there in the O.R.

Is Sam even aware of what's going on? Have they finished taking the pressure off his brain? I wonder if Sam's scared. Hell I'm freakin’ terrified. Not that he needs to know that. He just has to come out of this okay. Cause if he doesn't, I'll have to kick his ass. Dean somberly chuckled at the thought.

A doctor appeared at the receptionist's desk. He looked around and locked eyes with Dean. Dean's heart began to race, pounding hard inside his chest.

Oh God! They said the surgery would take four to five hours! It's hasn't been that long. Please don't tell me something happened during surgery. The doctor walked towards him, and Dean's fear went through the roof. The doctor was just feet away when he stopped and talked to the man who had dislocated his shoulder. Dean let out a long shaky breath and tried to rein in his emotions. His hands were shaking badly and it was a good thing he had set his coffee down on the table in front of him or he would have spilt it all down the front of him. He looked over at the clock and saw that it was ten to 1 in the morning.

“Okay. I've got one bleeder stopped. That was one hell of a mess. Hand me another clamp.” A nurse handed the clamp over to Dr. Rowland. The tray was covered in bloody tools and gauze pads. Dr. Rowland had a bit of blood down the front of him as he fixed up the hemorrhage in Sam's head.

“Good. The kid doesn't need anymore problems. Chris, take over for me. Patch him up. I'm going to start on his...” A loud shrieking sound from the ventilator caught the doctor's attention.

“BP levels are dropping again. Oxygen levels are also decreasing.” His attendant announced grimly.

“Damn it. One of his ribs must have punctured a lung. Cut the oxygen levels down!” He took out his stethoscope and listened to each side of Sam's chest.

“It's on the left side.” A flurry of activity commenced as the doctor picked up a clean scalpel and began to make an incision on the left side of Sam's chest to try and alleviate the effects of Sam's damaged lung.

“Give him a shot of Epi. His body's going into shock.” Nurses were almost running into each other as they moved back and forth, trying to keep the young man before them from slipping farther into shock, while trying to prevent a cardiac arrest from ensuing. One nurse injected Epi into Sam's IV, while another brought in more utensils that were needed for the next stage of surgery.

“Come on kid. You gotta hold on a bit longer.” The doctor whispered as he inserted a tube into Sam's chest to alleviate the air collecting in his thoracic cavity. He still had a lot more work to do and the doctor was getting worried that his patient wouldn't be able to last the next two hours of surgery still ahead of him. The nurses looked at him and waited.

Dean thought he was going to be sick. He had at most, 2 ½ hours to go before Sam would be out of surgery. Dean rested his head against the plain white wall behind him and closed his eyes. He was now alone in the waiting room, save for the annoying receptionist not 10 feet away. Dean was now on his eleventh cup of coffee and vaguely wondered if you could OD on coffee. Not to mention he had to run to the washroom twice because his bladder couldn't hold anymore fluids.

Dean was softly humming “Enter Sandman” and singing along in his head in a vain attempt to calm down. He didn't know how much longer he could stand to wait. Waiting was not Dean Winchester's best quality. That was Sam's thing.

Dean pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and checked the time. 2:20 in the morning. It was times like these that Dean wished his father was around. It still hurt like a bitch to think about the fact that their father was gone because of him. Or at least that's what he thought. Trips to the hospital were never an easy thing, but this trip was a hell of a lot more difficult than the others had been.

Dean had been there for every single one of those hospital visits when his brother had been the one admitted. From a broken arm, to concussions, even a case of hypothermia once due to a nasty water demon in Massachusetts. He'd been there for Sam every time, and this time wouldn't be any different. That was just part of the job as a big brother. You look after your little brother.

No matter how big of a pain-in-the-ass that little brother is. Dean smiled at the thought. Now if only Sam would be done with surgery so Dean could go and take care of said pain-in-the-ass little brother...

Entering hour four, Dr. Rowland had managed to clean up the worst of Sam's injuries. The fractured skull, broken wrist, punctured lung, deep gashes, and some internal bleeding had been fixed. One more thing was left to be done.

“Alright. Let's fix the tear in his liver and then we'll be home free. Christine, watch his vitals.” Just as Dr. Rowland was just about to make another incision, the heart monitor started wailing.

“His heartbeat is over 120 and climbing. His brain activity is going through the roof.” Christine said quickly as she looked at the data on the machines.

“That doesn't sound right.” He took a look at the data and sure enough, Sam's brain activity had spiked. “Nick have you ever seen this before?” The younger doctor asked inquisitively.

“No I haven't. Damn it. Get the paddles ready. We have to get a steady beat or the kid is going to crash on us.” A nurse ran out of the OR and rounded the corner to grab the crash cart. Pushing the cart through the doors, the wailing of the monitors continued. Their patient just seemed to get worse and worse as surgery went on. Moving the cart over to the table, Dr. Rowland grabbed the paddles and squirted the gel onto the paddles and turned the machine on.

“Charging to 250. Clear!” Sam's body lurched upwards on the table as the surge of electricity coursed its way through his body.

“Vitals are still unstable. Heartbeat is 168 and still increasing.” Natalie read aloud so everyone could hear.

It was now quarter to four in the morning and Dean still hadn't heard anything. His nerves were shot, and nobody could update him on the condition of his brother. He'd asked a dozen times in the last hour as to when they might expect him to be out of surgery. Dean rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands.

Suddenly a doctor appeared at the receptionist's desk and talked with Laura, who pointed him in Dean's direction. Dean looked up when he heard footsteps approaching him. Dean began to stand up, only for Dr. Rowland to ask him to sit down. Dean's fear began to peak again. The doctor sat down on Dean's left, licking his cracked lips before opening his mouth to speak to the distraught family member about his brother's prognosis. Dean's gaze was firmly fixed on the doctor as he waited for the news on his brother.

“Mr. Whitefield. Let me just say first off that your brother pulled through surgery.” Nick could instantly see the relief rolling off the older brother in waves.

“Oh thank God. No problems in surgery then I take it?” Dean knew something was wrong by the way the doctor looked at him with pained sympathy. Dean felt a lump in his throat.

“What kind of complications?” He asked hesitantly. For Dr. Rowland, this was one of the hardest things about being a doctor. No matter how hard you tried, giving bad news to families was never easy.

“We were able to fix the bleeds in your brother's brain. That portion of the surgery was successful. Some complications that we encountered along the way was keeping Sam's blood pressure at a safe range. It kept dropping, even with medications. During surgery, one of his broken ribs punctured his left lung, causing it to collapse. We had to insert a chest tube to help drain the fluids out. His body slipped into shock about halfway through the surgery. We were able to negate the effects by accommodating Sam with more blood and some antibiotics. Near the end of the surgery, his heartbeat soared to dangerous levels, which we call tachycardia. This means a patient has a heartbeat over 100 beats per minute. His brain activity was at a level that I've never seen during a surgery before. We had to use a defibrillator to bring his heart back to a normal rhythm.”

Dean felt all the color draining out of his face. His jaw clenched in an attempt to keep his emotions from spilling out into the waiting room. Abnormal brain activity? Did he… no, he couldn’t have had a vision. Sam can’t be that unlucky. Dean didn’t want to think about Sam having a vision at this point. It couldn’t have come at a worse moment. He’d worry about that later.

“I want to see my brother.” Dean stood up and looked at the doctor with sharp eyes.

“It's Dean. Please, I want to see my brother.” Dr. Rowland took a deep breath and breathed out slowly. He hated seeing such misery and pain coming off of families that had learned about a patient’s poor health. This case wasn't any easier. What he had to tell Dean next would surely devastate the older brother.

“Dean. Your brother is in ICU. He's on a ventilator because he can't breathe on his own. He's in a coma son. I'm sorry.”

Dean stood just outside of Sam's room alone. The doctor had just told him that his baby brother was in a coma. Dr. Rowland had spent the last 15 minutes going over every minute detail about Sam's condition, but most importantly, Sam's chances of waking up from his coma.

On the outside, it had looked like Dean had taken his brother's prognosis well. On the inside, it was a completely different matter. Dean was shattered beyond repair. Dean took a deep breath, grasped the cool metal handle and opened the door.

Dean inhaled sharply as he gazed at the form of his younger brother. The lump in his throat seemed to constrict Dean's airway as he walked quietly over to his brother's side, afraid to make the slightest noise that may interrupt the whooshing, clicking, and beeping of the different machines hooked up Sam.

Dean grabbed the chair near the foot of the bed and moved it over and positioned it next to Sam's side. Dean sat down in the brown plastic chair and took his brother's limp hand in his own and held on tight. Sam's skin matched that of the pale white sheets that covered his battered body. Dean noted the bandage wrapped around his brother's head, covering up the fractured skull that hid behind the dressings. His face was an assortment of purple, black, and blue bruises, with a large black right eye mirroring his beaten state. The pale blue translucent tube protruding from Sam's mouth stood as a testament to the severe beating that his brother had succumbed to. Dean bit his lower lip to stop it from quivering as he took in all of Sam's other injuries.

“They really got the jump on you little brother. Getting rusty kiddo.” Dean chuckled weakly.

“Doc says he doesn't know when you're going to wake up. Says it could be a few days to a few months. But I know you're too damn stubborn to let a doctor predict your future, huh?” Dean tried to rein in his emotions as he recalled the last few minutes of his conversation with Dr. Rowland.

“Dean. I think the abnormal brain activity we saw during surgery may have something to do with Sam's coma along with his fractured skull. I've never seen the likes of it myself. I can't explain it really. Sam's coma is moderate. He could wake up anytime, but there is a slight chance that he may never wake up. All we can do is wait. I'm sorry. I wish I had better news to give you.” To Dean, all it seemed was that this doctor was giving him more and more bad news without anything positive to grasp onto.

“You don't know my brother. He's too stubborn to let some coma take him out. He'll get through this. He's been in worse situations before, trust me. He's going to prove you all wrong by waking up and getting the hell out of here. Now, can I go see my brother?”

“I know you can hear me man. That brain of yours just never shuts off, even if your mouth does.” He leaned in closer, mindful of the breathing tube.

“You just have to keep fighting Sammy. I... You know that I'll just cause more trouble for everyone if you're not around. Can't do research quite like you, geek-boy.” He chuckled lightly before continuing.

“You gotta prove these damn doctors wrong Sammy. You can't... you can't let this be what takes you down, man. Not like this, and not before me.” Dean's eyes welled as he tried to get the right words out. A sad chuckle escaped his lips as he sat back into his chair.

“Goes against the laws of the world Sammy. Older brothers die first. Before their pain-in-the-ass younger brother.” Dean rubbed a weary hand across his face.

“Look what you've got me doing. Damn 'chick-flick' moments. You always wanted me to open up and talk. Guess you got your wish, little brother. Although after you get better, I'm so going to kick your ass for all the stress you've given me, especially if you've given me gray hairs. I'm too young to have gray hair Sam. Definitely don't want to have to dye it every few months.” The whooshing of the respirator was the only response to Dean's rambling.

Exhaustion and stress had finally caught up with Dean. The sun was beginning to rise outside and Dean wearily laid his head down on the side of his brother's bed and closed his eyes.

His eyes snapped open as he heard a strange sound coming from one of the machines. As he realized what the sound was, Dean jumped out of his seat, the chair falling backwards as he grabbed hold of the call button and pressed it repeatedly, just as he heard shouts coming from down the hall.

“Sam? Sam!” Looking at the heart monitor, Dean felt his stomach twist in knots and his breath caught in his throat as a steady red line indicated his brother's lifeless heart. Dean's own heart slammed hard against the inside of his chest as he continued to watch the line stay flat. Doctors and nurses rushed in trying to contain the situation.

“Get me the crash cart, now!” One doctor yelled as a nurse ran out of the room to acquire the life saving machine.

“Start compressions.” One doctor threaded his hands over Sam's chest and began CPR. Dean watched helplessly as they tried to get his brother's heart beating again. A loud rumbling sound was heard as a nurse shouted in the hallway for people to get out of the way. The nurse from before had returned with the cart, and immediately the doctor started the machine up.

Don't give up now Sammy. You gotta keep fighting. Dean was pushed back and he watched in horror as the paddles were brought down to his brother's chest, causing him to arch his back from the electrical waves entering his body. He fell limply back onto the bed. The doctor looked at the monitor and shook his head.

“Charging to 350. Clear!” Another jolt, and still there was no sign of movement on Sam's monitor. Dean willed his brother's heart to beat again.

Please Sam. Again and again Dean watched in agony as Sam was continuously shocked, and still there was no sound from his silent heart. After the ninth shock, the doctor shook his head and placed the paddles down on the machine.

“Alright. I'll call it. Time of death: 6:22 A.M.” Dean's legs felt like pudding. His eyes were wide and a look of shock and disbelief shown through his expressive eyes. If it was physically possible, Dean could have sworn that his heart had shattered.

No, this can't be happening. No, no, no, no, no. His breathing hitched and hot tears ran down his face as he stared at his dead brother, who was already turning gray on the bed before him.

“No. Sam.” His voice caught in his throat as the emotions spilled out. Finding his voice, he screamed.

“Please Sam.” Again and again Dean watched in agony as Sam was continuously shocked, and still there was no sound from his silent heart. After the ninth shock, the doctor shook his head and placed the paddles down on the machine.

No, this can't be happening. No, no, no, no. His breathing hitched and hot tears ran down his face as he stared at his dead brother, who was already turning gray on the bed before him.

“No. Sam.” His voice caught in his throat as the emotions spilled out. Finding his voice, he screamed.

“SAMMY!” Dean's eyes snapped open as he pushed himself backwards from the side of Sam's bed. Dean's heartbeat was pulsating against the inside of his chest as he looked towards his brother and then moved his gaze to Sam's heart monitor. The rhythmic up and down motion made Dean's knees get weak as he sat back down in the chair and hastily wiped away the hot salty tears streaming down his face.

“It was just a nightmare. It didn't happen.” Dean told himself over and over again as he took several deep breaths to control his erratic breathing. Dean checked his watch. 6:32 A.M. Dean let out a breathless chuckle. Dean had slept less than an hour, and really didn't want to try sleeping again for some time, not with the latest nightmare too fresh and the emotions too raw to try again anytime soon.

He stood up and made his way to the window. Outside, the sun was just peaking over the mountains, illuminating the dark corners of the city and bringing a new day to the world. The orange glow came through the window and brought light into Sam's room. Dean glanced at his damaged sibling with a look of unbridled pain, fear, and determination. A new day had begun for the people of this city, but a battle for life had only begun for one Winchester, while the other had to fight to bring the other one back from the clutches of his own personal hell.

Throughout the day, nurses and doctors would come and go from Sam's room, poking and prodding his brother, checking his vitals and changing bandages. Dean inquired as to what all the equipment attached to Sam was for and learned what each individual machine did. Dean wanted to know everything that involved his brother's well being.

Sam was taken down to have a scan done to make sure there wasn't any further bleeding, so Dean took this time to check into a motel room and have a quick shower. He only needed the room to shower and to change clothes. A bonus was that he had managed to get a good deal on the room. Showered and changed, Dean raced back to the hospital where he awaited his brother's return to his room.

Sam was wheeled back in not 10 minutes later and was settled back in place. Dr. Rowland talked with Dean about the scan and discussed his findings.

“So far, no internal bleeding, but that doesn't mean it can’t show up later. Sometimes these things take a while to show up. Hopefully there won't be any bleeds or any further complications for your brother.” The Doctor closed his clip board and made his way towards the door.

“Hey doc? Do you think Sam will... um...” The doctor turned around and looked back towards Dean. He knew what Dean was trying to say.

“His brain activity is still doing well, considering. There's still some swelling, but hopefully that will come down with time. His coma is still moderate, Dean. It may take some time. All we can do is wait until he wakes up to see if there was any permanent damage done to his brain. If you need anything, give me a call.” With that, the doctor turned around and left the room.

Dean sunk back into his chair and watched as the machine pushed oxygen into his younger sibling’s weakened lungs.

The second day crawled by as Dean sat in the hard plastic chair beside Sam's bed. The nurses would bring food up for Dean from the cafeteria so he wouldn't have to leave Sam's side. Dean always asked how is brother was doing whenever a nurse would come and check his brother's vitals. The nurses obliged, and generalized the information so Dean could understand it all without the medical jargon added to the mix. The results had been the same as yesterday. No real improvements, but nothing that was setting Sam back in his recovery, so far.

Sam was having the chest tubes taken out and they thought it best that Dean wait outside, or go to the motel room and sleep. Well he wouldn't sleep as he hadn't really slept at all, but he could take a shower while he waited. Not 25 minutes later after having a quick shower, Dean returned to the ICU ward.

As he was about to enter Sam's room, Dr. Rowland appeared at the doorway with a small frown on his face. Not liking the look on the doctor’s face, Dean's worry increased.

“We removed the chest tubes, but infection has set in. The area is stitched but is quite swollen. We're giving him a round of antibiotics to fight the infection. Hopefully it’ll clear up in a few days.” Dean paled at the news. Sam was going backwards and really couldn't afford this setback, not with his life already precariously hanging by a thread.

“Hopefully? No offence doc, but I'm going to need better than 'hopefully', considering the circumstances my brother is in right now.” The doctor shifted weight from one foot to the other, squirming under the elder Winchester's glare.

“The infection isn't that bad. It will set Sam back a little bit in recovery time, but will leave no lasting damage. It will clear up in a few days, so long as his body doesn't have any further complications.” Dr. Rowland moved aside so Dean could enter Sam's room. He stood at the doorway and gazed upon his patient and his older brother. He had seen many family members shattered and broken waiting for their loved ones to come out of tough situations. Many cracked under the pressure. Some couldn't handle it at all. But the older brother before him was different. The doctor had never seen such commitment and utter protectiveness from a sibling in his entire career as he had seen from Dean. He hoped that if all the medical equipment and surgeries failed to help bring the young boy back, he hoped that his brother would be able to do what medicine could not. Checking his clipboard, the doctor sauntered off to go and check on other patients.

The next few days were anything but joyful for Dean Winchester. The stress and lack of sleep was wearing him down. Dark circles formed under his naturally expressive eyes. The emotional mask Dean wore and concealed behind many layers was slowly cracking and chipping away as he waited for his brother's condition to improve.

Dean sat down in his chair beside his brother's bed, keeping a watchful eye over Sam and the activity of all of the machines keeping his younger sibling alive. The bruises on Sam's face had faded to yellow and pale green. The infection had elevated Sam's temperature slightly, but otherwise no further complications. The doctor's tried to remain optimistic about Sam's recovery, but Dean could sense their doubt. Dean remained by Sam's side, leaving only to change clothes and to take quick showers at the motel room just down the street. Dean felt a pang of guilt every time he left Sam's side, even if it was only for 30 minutes. He would fall asleep in his chair, sometimes leaning his arms and head on the edge of Sam's bed. Exhaustion was the cause for Dean's erratic sleep patterns. The nurses would try and slip in unnoticed, not wanting to wake Dean's slumbering form, but their attempts failed as his piercing green eyes watched their every move.

Dean would talk to Sam about practically everything. Their Mom and what she was like. How Dad trained them growing up, and the hunts Dean went on when Sam had gone away to Stanford. He talked about everything, except what had brought them to their present circumstances. The incident was like an infected wound that he just couldn't force himself to try and clean. Six days of talking non-stop had made the eldest Winchester's voice hoarse and sore, but he continued on, hoping to reach his brother somewhere in the depths of his coma. He continued talking; finding the beeps of monitors worse than hearing his own strained voice.

“You know Sammy, talking to myself can only entertain me for so long. I know I have this amazing voice and all, but even I'm getting sick of listening to myself babble for hours on end. Conversations are better when they're not one-sided Sam.” The ventilator whooshed and clicked, mocking Dean's hidden plea. Dean clenched his jaw and looked away from his brother's bed with an array of emotions passing over his tempered face. He ran a hand over his face, an attempt to rub away the fear and anxiety slowly eating away at him. A knock at the door brought Dean out of his thoughts as Sam's doctor appeared at the doorway and made his way over to stand at the foot of Sam's bed and focused his attention on Dean.

“The police want to speak with you.” The doctor announced as he began writing information down on Sam's charts.

“They can wait until my brother is doing well again.” Dr. Rowland looked up from his charts.

“Dean. It's about the men that did this to Sam. The police arrested all those responsible and are holding them in custody back in Sterling.” The doctor immediately noticed the change in posture and the look of rage that crossed Dean's features. Nodding his head towards the door, the doctor continued.

“There are two police officers in the main reception area. They need to speak with you about the case.” Dean finally nodded his head and stood up and made his way to the doorway where he paused.

“If he wakes up or needs anything, we'll page for you Dean. Go speak with them. Sam will be fine.” Dean huffed in response.

“I'll only feel better when he wakes up and walks out of this damn place. Until then I won't stop worrying.” Dean then turned and walked briskly out of the room.

Even then I wouldn't stop worrying about him. Kid can't keep himself out of trouble. Dean chuckled weakly at the thought.

Dean returned to Sam's room roughly 40 minutes later, more furious than a grizzly that had been poked in the head with a stick. Sitting down in his chair, Dean's anger deflated like a popped balloon when he looked at the condition his little brother was in. Dean hesitated for a fraction of a second, before grasping Sam's limp hand, being mindful of the IV embedded in it and held onto Sam’s hand like a lifeline. Perhaps for Dean, it was.

“Hey kiddo. I went and talked to those cops. Man, you should have seen the one officer Sam, I'm telling ya. She was batting her eyelashes at me and everything. She totally has the hots for me.” Sam made no movement or sound, so Dean resumed talking.

“Anyways, they told me they found the guys who did this to you Sammy. They showed me pictures of them. I recognized two of those bastards, Sammy. The guys from the bar.” Dean's voice shook with anger.

“I told the cops if they didn't keep those guys locked up, I'd make sure they never lived to see the light of day again. That's your big brother for ya.” Dean chuckled softly.

“I don't know if they took me seriously though. You know damn well they should. I make good on my promises.” Dean had thought of all the ways he could torture these guys if they ever got out for what they had done to his little brother. There would be hell to pay to whoever injured a Winchester. Another Winchester was never far behind and a pissed off Winchester was as deadly as a loaded gun.

“They gave me a whole bunch of reassurances and crap about no bail and no way of them getting out. But we know better, don't we Sam?” The steady beeps of the heart monitor bounced off the walls of the small room, just as Dean's voice had.

“I saw the damage you had done to those guys Sam. Damn that was quite a sight to see. You kicked some serious ass, little brother. I'm proud of you.” Dean leaned back in his chair and blinked back moisture in his eyes.

The bustling activity of the hospital staff always made the doctor smile as he made his way down the familiar hallway.

No slackers in my hospital. The doctor thought jubilantly. Dr. Rowland had worked in this hospital since he had graduated from medical school. Heck, he had done all of his practicum’s here. These walls held many memories both joyful and heartbreaking. Though he was a neurosurgeon by trade, he loved being able to check up on his patients on a daily basis and do general duty when he could. He truly loved the job, loved the patients he cared for and gave comfort to families like they were his own.

As he rounded the corner to the ICU floor, the noise level dropped considerably compared to the rest of the ward. He walked briskly, his shoes squeaking on the faded specked floor, his white coat flapping behind him as he made his way to room 04. He quietly knocked on the door and walked in.

Dr. Rowland had been to this room many times, and it still warmed yet broke his heart every time he entered. His patient, Sam, was still in a coma. Tubes were protruding out of him from all over the place. He was hooked up to a ventilator, his damaged lung not yet ready to resume taking the task of breathing for the young man yet. His head was wrapped in white bandages, freshly changed, covering the fractured skull that lay hidden in gauze and dressings. His left wrist surrounded by a white cast, slowly mending the broken bones encased within.

Taking his gaze off his patient, he looked towards the young man sitting in the chair next to Sam. Dean, Sam's older brother that Dr. Rowland had met 11 days prior in his office, looked haggard and worn. The dark circles under his eyes had accentuated his inner turmoil and blatant disregard for his own health. Dean, for the past 11 days had become rooted to his brother's side. The doctor was pulled from his thoughts as Dean acknowledged his entrance.

Dean had been by Sam's side for the past 26 hours. He was getting ready to head to the motel to shower and change, when he heard knocking on the door and watched Sam's doctor come in, apparently lost in thought. Dean waited, and when he didn't speak, Dean decided to get the doctor to spit out what it was he wanted.

“Dean. We just got the results back from Sam's scans. The good news is that the swelling in his brain has gone down considerably. He could regain consciousness once the swelling goes down a bit more.” Dean had a slight smile spread across his face. He could hear the doctor sigh, and knew with good news, came the bad news.

Not that I'm getting sick of hearing bad news all the time or anything. Dean thought bitterly.

“There's a problem that has shown up on Sam's other scan. There's a small bleed in Sam's kidney that we've been monitoring over the passed two days. We had hoped that it would have healed itself, but it hasn't. We've put it off as long as it has been safe to do so. His body is still recovering and we didn't feel confident about putting him into surgery so soon after his prior surgery. Now, we really don't have a choice. Sam needs this taken care of now.” Dean sat there taking it all in. He rubbed his hand through his hair and let out a deep wary sigh. The doctor walked over and placed a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder.

“I know this is a lot to take in. Compared to his other injuries it isn't that bad. The laceration isn't deep, it just needs to be fixed. We're going to take him back into the O.R in about an hour. The operation should only take about 30-45 minutes. Then we'll bring him back here. I'll come out and talk with you in the waiting room when we're all finished. Your brother's strong and fighting hard. Don't give up on your brother yet son. I think he still has enough fight left in him for another surgery.” Dean finally looked up towards the doctor. The doctor smiled reassuringly, trying to give hope to the drowning young man in front of him.

“Someone will come and collect your brother in about 45 minutes.” The doctor patted Dean's shoulder and made his way to the door. He could faintly hear Dean’s words before he slipped out of the room.

I hate waiting rooms. Dean thought bitterly as he tossed the mechanics magazine back onto the coffee table. Here he was again, waiting on word about his brother. Dean despised waiting rooms.

If I never have to sit in a waiting room again, it'll be too soon. He surmised. The old style clock beside the receptionist's desk ticked loudly as Dean counted down the minutes until Sam's surgery was finished. Bobby had called earlier that day, asking if the boys were going to handle a poltergeist in Connecticut that had tossed a 40-year-old man through a two story window and onto a cement walkway. Bobby could sense a change in the tone of the eldest Winchester's voice and within 10 minutes had managed to get the whole story out of him.

Bobby was shocked, and offered to drive down to the hospital to help out with anything they might need, but Dean turned down the offer. Sam was his responsibility and his alone. He’d take care of his little brother, just as he always did. He did appreciate the offer, but needed to do this on his own. Dean promised to call Bobby if there was any change in Sam's condition. With some of his guilt gone and hope restored after a talk with Bobby, Dean returned his focus to Sam. The only one who could truly abate his fears and guilt was Sam. Now Dean just had to wait until Sam was ready to face the world once more. And Dean would be right there beside him, ready to help him stand strong again.

With some of his guilt gone and hope restored after a talk with Bobby, Dean returned his focus to Sam. The only one who could truly abate his fears and guilt was Sam. Now Dean just had to wait until Sam was ready to face the world once more. And Dean would be right there beside him, ready to help him stand strong again.

Beep... beep... beep. The hell is that? Sound was the first thing that came back to Sam as he peered into the surrounding darkness. Senses returning like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle fitting into place forming a completed picture. With sound, came the sense of touch. Rhythmic breathing sounds were off to his right side, with warm air brushing against his arm. He could feel the pressure on the same arm in which the puffs of warm air were coming from. A warm blanket covered him up to the top of his chest. As the rest of his senses came back, Sam tried to move his head, feeling the foreign object down his throat. Sam's eyes shot open as panic set in. His heart started to pound hard against the inside of his chest as he began to gag on the tube protruding from his mouth.

It was ten to eleven at night, just over 12 hours after Sam's second surgery. The doctor had told Dean that the surgery had gone smoothly, and Dean was relieved. He wasted no time making his way back to Sam's room. Dean had fallen asleep leaning on Sam's bed just after 9 o'clock. Dean was dreaming of girls in Leia bikinis, when gasping and gagging noises brought him back to alertness. Lifting his head off the side of Sam's bed, Dean's eyes widened and his mouth hung open as he watched his brother choking on the tube in his throat. Snapping out of his stupor, Dean jumped up and pressed the call button repeatedly, just as a nurse ran into the room.

“Sam! It's okay. The tube is there to help you breathe. It'll be alright Sammy, just relax.” Dean moved so that he could be in Sam's line of sight. Sam's panic filled eyes met Dean's equally distressed ones and concentrated on what Dean was trying to say.

“That's it Sammy. Slow it down.” A doctor came into the room and stood in Sam's line of vision.

“Sam, I'd like you to cough for me when I tell you to, okay?” Sam glanced over at Dean, before returning his gaze to the female doctor in front of him. Sam nodded his head in confirmation.

“Alright. On three. One...two...three cough.” Sam coughed and out came the endotracheal tube. Dean watched as Sam coughed a few times, struggling to gain an equilibrium. The doctor slipped a nasal cannula under Sam's nose and turned the oxygen machine beside his bed on.

“This will make breathing easier for you. Your lung still needs time to adapt to the change in pressure and oxygen levels. This will make the transition easier.” Sam nodded and let his head sink deeper into the pillow.

Dean waited impatiently outside while the doctor checked over his brother and asked him a few questions. A short time later, the female doctor came out and allowed Dean to go back inside. Sam’s eyes were closed, so Dean quietly walked in and sat down in his chair, assuming Sam was asleep.

“Hey.” Sam’s hoarse voice caused Dean to nearly jump out of his seat as he looked up and saw Sam’s hazel eyes looking back at him. Dean grinned.

“Yeah hold on.” While Dean went off to fetch a glass of water, Sam tried to sit up in bed, only to hiss in pain as his ribs protested the movement.

“Sam? Take it easy, man.” Dean came back into view with cup in hand, moving over to help his brother sit up. Sam took a sip of water and handed it back to Dean, the cup shaking in his unsteady hand.

Sam was perplexed. “So how bad was it?” Dean bit his lip and looked away from Sam.

“That bad, huh?” Sam surmised as he noted Dean’s change in posture. Dean returned his gaze back to his brother.

“Put it this way. I don’t scare easy Sam. You know that. But you scared the hell out of me.” For Dean to admit that he was afraid, well that wasn’t something that Sam was expecting. It must have been really freaking awful if Dean was admitting something like that. Sam didn’t really remember what had happened, just bits and pieces of fuzzy images, but nothing really coherent. It hurt Sam that he had caused his brother to worry so overwhelmingly about him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for Sam. I’m proud of what you did. Though next time Sam, don’t take five guys on at the same time, especially if they have weapons.” Dean said dryly with a trademark grin. Sam smiled and closed his eyes.

“Like you would have done any differently Dean.” Sam replied with a hint of amusement. Dean merely chuckled in response.

“Dude, go to the motel room and get some sleep. You look worse than I do. I’ll be fine. No arguing Dean. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.” Dean was about to argue when Sam raised his hand to silence him.

“Please, just do it Dean.” Dean took one look at his brother and sighed in defeat. Sam was giving that puppy dog look and Dean still hadn’t figured out a way to beat that.

“Yeah, alright. But I’ll be back first thing in the morning.” Sam nodded his head and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Dean watched as Sam’s breathing evened out and his face took on that peaceful look that reminded Dean of a much younger Sam. Dean smiled as the memory of a Christmas 16 years ago came to mind.

Dean was so excited for Christmas morning to show up. They didn’t have much money, but he had saved his allowance for the past month and a half in order to get Sam a few things that he had really wanted for Christmas. Dean had gone to the local shopping mall a few days prior to pick up his purchases and had hid the gifts under his bed the minute he had gotten home.

Christmas morning arrived by way of Sam jumping up and down on Dean’s bed yelling,

“Okay Sammy, I’m getting up kiddo.” Dean watched in amazement as Sam jumped off the bed and threw open the door and took off down the hallway into the living room in record speed. Chuckling, Dean climbed out of bed and made his way into the living room.

When Dean finally got there, he was surprised that not one of the Christmas presents had been opened.

“Wanted to wait for you Dean.” Dean ruffled Sam’s brown mop of hair affectionately before sitting down in front of their small barely decorated tree.

“Alright Sammy. You can start now.” Dean opened his Dad’s present first, finding the Swiss Army knife tucked neatly within the white wrappings inside the small box.

“I helped Dad pick it out for you Dean.” Sam announced proudly with his lopsided smile to go with it.

“Thanks Sammy. You chose well little brother.” Dean waited as Sam opened up his gift. Sam’s eyes went wide as the wrapping paper flew off, revealing the fairly new Ninja Turtles movie and the big monster truck Sam had been eyeing for the past month.

“Merry Christmas Sammy. Hope you like them.” Dean sat there on the floor for a few seconds, waiting to see what his brother would say, before he was wrapped in a tight hug by his little brother. A mantra of muffled “thank you” reached Dean’s ears as Sam repeated it into Dean’s shoulder. Dean gave Sam a hug back before Sam let go to wake up their Dad to show him what Dean had gotten him for Christmas.

A few minutes later a very tired and worn out John entered the room, followed by a bouncing Sam.

“Dad see! Look what Dean got me!” Sam grinned from ear to ear, causing smiles to appear on the other two Winchesters. Dean then noticed another small flat gift under the tree. Reaching out, Dean grabbed it and looked at the tag.

“To Dean. From Sammy.” Perplexed, Dean carefully unwrapped the delicate gift. The gift was a small painting of a blue stick man with a red cape, standing on a purple monster of some sort. A black bag was attached to the stick man’s hand, green and orange boxes falling out of the bag. Over the stick man read “Dean” in gold letters. In big bold dark blue letters at the top, it read, “Merry Christmas Big Brother.” Dean didn’t realize that Sam had left the couch and was sitting next to him until Sam broke the silence.

“Mrs. Levelston helped me wrap it. I worked on it all class on the last day of school before Christmas break.”

“If you don’t like it that’s okay. I’ll share my truck with you.” Sam looked up at Dean, eyes wide and sincere.

“Sammy this is awesome little brother. Thank you so much.” Dean wrapped an arm around his brother and gave him a one arm hug.

“Yeah Sam I do. I’ll always keep it Sammy. Now how about we watch your new movie?”

Dean pushed in the tape and sat next to his brother on the couch. John had gone to the small kitchen for a cup of black coffee before he sat down at the kitchen table to read the newspaper. Not 20 minutes into the movie and Sam was fast asleep, resting his head against Dean’s arm. Dean smiled at his little brother’s sleeping form, his face relaxed and peaceful. Dean sat there without moving till the movie was over, afraid to wake his slumbering sibling. Once the movie had finished, Dean shifted and then picked up Sam and carried him to their room, where he tucked Sam in, hoping that his kid brother would get a few more hours sleep, seeing as he probably hasn’t slept since the night before.

It was not lost on Dean that his brother had kept that youthful, innocent look, especially in sleep. It was that innocence that Dean tried so hard to protect all those years ago. Even now that battle still goes on, but for much higher stakes. “Don’t worry Sammy. I’m looking out for you.”

Dean navigated the Impala into a vacant parking spot, returning from the motel room where he had spent the last 8 hours catching up on some much needed sleep. Getting out of the car, the chilled morning air brushed against Dean’s face, causing Dean to zip up his jacket all the way to his chin. He walked briskly into the hospital, letting the hospital leech out the cold that had seeped into his skin. Dean made his way to the elevator and got in. Waiting for the doors to open, Dean cringed as he had to listen to the lame ass music playing in the background.

This is meant to be a hospital, not an asylum. Dean thought miserably. The doors opened and Dean quickly made his way over to Sam’s room.

“Hey Sam. How are you doing?” Dean didn’t even need to ask as Sam’s appearance was a dead giveaway, even if Sam would deny it.

“I’m fine. Hey, you look less like 10 day old road kill than when I saw you last night. Guess some actual sleep helped you then, huh?”

“Smartass. Road kill? Na, that’s you little brother. I was born perfect and I don’t need sleep to keep up my handsome appearance. Yep, I certainly had a peaceful sleep. I didn’t have my geeky brother’s snoring to keep me awake all night.” Dean quipped back as he sat down in his chair next to Sam’s bed.

“Shut up. God, it was horrible. Even Dad’s cooking was better and he burnt almost everything he touched.” Dean laughed.

“Must be bad if you’re saying Dad’s food was better.” Sam chuckled, which brought about a fit of coughing. Sam shut his eyes tightly against the pain in his ribs and stomach. Dean instantly moved and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder for support. Sam grabbed Dean’s arm tightly as the coughing intensified. Finally, the coughing subsided and Sam lay back down on his bed, exhausted. Dean stayed standing, watching his brother take deep breaths.

“Yeah, sure. Hold on.” Dean went off to the sink and came back with a glass of cold water.

“Here ya go Sam.” Dean handed Sam the cool glass and watched him take small tentative sips, the glass shaking in Sam’s unsteady grip. When the cup was empty, he passed the cup back to Dean who placed it on the small table beside Sam’s bed. Sam looked worn out.

“Why don’t you go back to sleep Sam? I’ll wake you up when your lunch comes in.” Dean suggested as he sat back down in his chair.

“Mmhm.” Sam had already closed his eyes and within minutes his breathing evened out and took on a steady rhythm.

“Now, where is that nurse?” Dean grinned mischievously. Dean made his way outside of Sam’s room and scanned up and down the hallway, looking for that gorgeous blonde he had seen earlier…

The first thing Sam thought when he came back to awareness was how cold the room had gotten. Earlier, Dean had woken him up just as his lunch arrived, but Sam had no appetite. He had fallen back asleep soon after. Now it was mid-afternoon and Sam couldn’t understand why it was so cold in his room. He opened his eyes and looked around for his brother. Sam was shivering so he pulled the blankets up to his chin to try and alleviate the chill that had taken hold of his body. He noticed the bathroom light was on, so he figured that’s where Dean was.

Dean was washing the remnants of noodle soup off his shirt. The hot blonde girl he had set his eyes on seemed to be a klutz in disguise. She managed to trip on her own feet and spilled half a bowl of hot noodle soup down Dean’s shirt. Dean cleaned it off as best he could and threw his jacket over top of it. He’d have to go back to the motel room and change shirts later. Opening the bathroom door, Dean looked over at his brother and could see that he was awake. With a closer inspection, Dean could see that Sam had pulled the blankets up higher, and that he was shivering under the covers.

“Dean, you th-think you could get me another bl-blanket?” Sam asked through chattering teeth.

“Uh, sure. I’ll be right back.” Dean took off towards the nurse’s station just down the hall. Something was wrong with his kid brother and he didn’t need to be a doctor to see that.

Dean followed closely behind the nurse into his brother’s room, carrying an extra blanket under his arm. The nurse took a look at his charts, before checking his monitors.

“Your temperature is elevated. I’ll page your doctor so he can take a look at you.” The nurse turned around and left the room, while Dean unfolded the blanket and covered his shaking brother in the warm sheets.

“You’re welcome kiddo. You never make things easy for yourself, do you Sam?” Dean’s grin didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“N-no. Make th-things difficult all t-the time.” Sam replied sarcastically with the traditional eye roll to accompany the remark.

The doctor walked in 5 minutes later and walked straight towards Sam’s charts. He then moved over to check the machines attached to Sam. Dean was no doctor, but even he could tell Sam was showing signs of an infection.

“I’m going to take some blood samples okay Sam? It looks like an infection has set in. A blood test will tell us what we’re dealing with.” Sam nodded his head and the doctor took out a syringe and withdrew some of Sam’s blood. Before the doctor left, he injected some medicine into the saline drip.

“It’ll help with his fever.” He added at Dean’s questioning gaze. He left the room, leaving the two brothers to deal with another setback.

“Yeah I’ll t-try.” Sam rasped out. Dean watched as Sam tossed and turned for what seemed like ages before he fell into an uneasy sleep. Dean rested his head in his hands. The stress, worry and fear from the past 11 days were returning with a vengeance. Dean was worried that Sam wouldn’t be strong enough to deal with another infection. But no matter what, Dean wasn’t about to give up on his brother and never would. He had to believe that Sam would pull through, just like he had done every other horrible situation he found himself in. Dean settled into his chair and let out a breath. It was going to be long night for the both of them.

The blood results came back just before the dinner cart had made it to Sam’s room. Dean studied the doctor’s every action, every feature, trying to decipher what news he had in store for both Winchesters. Dean’s insides coiled like tangled rope as he waited anxiously for the doctor to deliver the news. Seeing as Sam was still in a fevered sleep, the doctor spoke directly to Dean, a pitying expression spread across his face.

“The test results came back. Your brother has septicemia, or what you would call blood poisoning. It can occur to anyone after surgeries, but is more common with people that have weakened immune systems. Sam’s immune system was compromised a few days ago by a previous infection. We are going to start him on a round of antibiotics now to fight off the infection.”

Dean’s mouth was like sandpaper, too dry to have any words work there way out of his mouth. A nurse walked in and spoke with the doctor before administering the antibiotics into the saline drip above Sam’s head.

“What are his chances Doc?” Dean finally found his voice and hated the fact that he was asking the same horrible question about his brother once again. The doctor said nothing at first, contemplating what to say.

“This infection is very serious. Your brother’s immune system is fighting hard, but it definitely has an uphill battle to climb. It’s hard to say, it really is. His temperature has risen to 102.4, almost 2 degrees higher than it was an hour ago. His condition isn’t as good as we would like it to be. We will have to monitor his temperature closely. I wish I had better news to give you.” Dean didn’t say a word and the doctor took that as a hint to leave. Once they were alone again, Dean returned his attention to Sam.

“You’re going to give me gray hair before I’m 30, Sammy.” Dean chuckled as he adjusted the blankets around his brother.

“Just… promise me that you’ll get better, okay?” Dean turned his head away from Sam, somewhat afraid that Sam would see how close Dean was to the breaking point.

“You gotta keep fighting Sam. Can’t let a bloody infection take you down. You’re too good for that.” Dean didn’t really care that he was letting his emotions get the best of him. This had been going on too long to not let some walls break in the process. Dean gained some control back and resumed his watch over his brother, hoping he had the strength and the will to climb one more hurdle.

Returning to consciousness was not a pleasant experience as far as Sam was concerned. He could feel the heat of his fever rolling off his skin like heat waves off of pavement in the middle of summer. He felt like a piece of granite had been placed on top of his chest, making him work harder for air. His limbs felt heavy, as if weights had been attached to each limb. He felt truly miserable. As he opened his eyes, he couldn’t help but groan as he moved his head to the side, looking for Dean. His vision seemed to take a few seconds to catch up with his eyes, causing the nauseous feeling in his stomach to intensify. Shutting his eyes against the burning light above his head, Sam tried desperately to quell that churning feeling in his stomach.

“Dean.” Sam called out, barely above a whisper. Sam could hear Dean shift in his chair.

“Gonna be sick.” Sam grounded out before he leaned over the edge of the bed and brutally expelled the meagre contents of his stomach into the small bucket Dean had quickly placed in front of him. Sam wrapped his arm around his chest as his ribs protested against the abrupt action. Sam started to dry heave, so he gripped the edge of his bed tightly in an attempt to drown out the pain.

“Take it easy Sam. It’ll be okay.” Dean said quietly as he sat down beside his brother and rested a hand on his shoulder, trying to give comfort to his sick and injured sibling. Finally, Sam’s stomach calmed, allowing him to get settled under the blankets again. Dean quickly disposed of the offensive material and sat back down on his chair. Sam was pasty white, except for the flush of fever in his cheeks. Sweat trickled down the side of his face, the salty lines creating slick pathways all the way down his face and neck. Even the bandages around his head were damp with sweat. His breathing was ragged and pained. Sam’s eyes were shut tight against the pain reverberating through his head.

“Lights. Turn off the lights, please.” Noting the desperate plea in Sam’s voice, Dean quickly stood up and shut the halogen lights above Sam’s bed off, allowing the darkness to fill up the room. Dean went to the bathroom and found a clean washcloth. He quickly turned the taps on, and ran the cloth under the coldest water he could get. He turned the taps off and wrung the cloth out before switching off the bathroom light and making his way back to Sam.

“Here, this should help.” Dean said quietly as he placed the cool cloth across Sam’s forehead and eyes. His bandages were already wet, so the cloth wasn’t going to be doing anymore damage, Dean gathered. Sam felt the cool cloth hit his forehead and it sent a chill down his spine. After his eyes were covered and the coolness crept beneath his skin, the pain in his eyes and head retreated to a tolerant level.

“Thanks Dean.” He muttered breathlessly as his senses ebbed away as a restless sleep took hold once again. Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. A knock at the door pulled Dean’s attention from Sam to the door. Dr. Rowland entered and checked Sam’s monitors. Dean could tell whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“His temperature has gone up again to 103.9 degrees. I’m going to administer stronger antibiotics and add another IV line to help replenish the fluids he’s losing.” The doctor muttered, more to himself than to Dean.

“He was throwing up.” Dean said just loud enough for the doctor to hear him. Dr. Rowland glanced up at Dean as he scribbled some notes down on Sam’s chart.

“That does happen, unfortunately. It’s going to cause a lot of pain, but he should be alright. If you hear wet breathing sounds, push the call button. We don’t want a rib to shift and puncture his lung. People with septicemia tend to become sensitive to light, causing pain to build up behind the eyes. The medication I just added should help with the vomiting. I’m going to come back and check on him in a bit. I’ll have a nurse come in and hook up another IV line for fluids in a few minutes.” As quickly as he had come, the doctor left.

Dean got up and grabbed another wash cloth, rinsing it under cold water before returning to Sam. He quickly switched cloths, the cold one for the now warm one covering Sam’s forehead and eyes. Sam moved in his sleep but didn’t wake. Dean tossed the old one in the sink. He would use it when the new one needed to be switched. Until then, he would sit here and do what he could to help his brother survive this ordeal.

It was hot. Far too hot for Sam’s liking. He felt as if his body had been submerged in lava, his skin melting under its boiling touch with flames licking his skin, burning every inch of his body away. He called out to the one person he could always trust to make things right. “Dean.”

It was just after 8 P.M, just less than two hours since the doctor had last come in to check on Sam, when Dean noticed his brother was waking up. The last two hours had consisted of Dean going back and forth between Sam and the bathroom, rinsing the wash cloths in cold water and exchanging them for the old ones that were no longer cold. Even in the dark room with only the machines dull lights, Dean could tell his brother was getting worse. His breathing had quickened to the point where he was almost hyperventilating. He continuously tossed and turned in bed, as if trying to evade an unseen enemy. The bleary lights from the machines illuminated Sam’s worsening appearance. The gown stuck to his chest, drenched in a fevered sweat, leaving his skin impossibly clammy. The blankets were almost completely kicked off the bed by Sam’s continued restlessness. Dean instantly snapped to attention when he heard his brother call for him.

“Dean.” The tremble in his voice did not go unnoticed by Dean. His heart broke for his suffering sibling.

Sam hastily grabbed the cloth from his head and tossed it towards the end of his bed. He finally opened his glassy eyes, sluggishly looking around the room for Dean.

Where is he? He should be here. Did something happen to him? Sam’s frantic thoughts bounced wildly in his mind, each one causing more confusion and worry than the last. Sam could hear someone speaking to him, but couldn’t see anything but a blurred outline of a person. The voice was lost on him. Why didn’t anyone tell his brother he was looking for him? Couldn’t this person beside him go and get off his ass and find his brother?

“Where’s Dean?” His voice was hoarse and his throat tender. Everything looked fuzzy, fading in and out around the edges. Then he heard it again. That voice was talking again. Sam was starting to panic. What if the demon had gotten Dean? What if he had hurt Dean? He could be in danger. Sam needed to find his brother, now. Sam started fumbling with the IV lines, the pain in his ribs and stomach not registering with the prospect of a MIA Dean. All of a sudden, someone was holding him down. Sam groaned as the icy fingers wrapped around his arms, his strength seeping away as he tried to push the person away.

“Have to find Dean.” He muttered as he continued to try and pry the hands off of his arms. Soon, he couldn’t even muster the strength to keep fighting, the person holding too tightly and refusing to let him look for his brother. Sam tried one more time to fight back, but consciousness was again slipping away.

Dean watched as Sam wretched the cloth from his head and tossed it near the end of his bed. Sam finally opened his eyes, blinking slowly to try and clear his vision. Sam scanned the room, never gazing in Dean’s direction.

“Hey Sammy, I’m right here buddy.” Dean moved his chair closer to Sam, hoping to catch Sam’s attention. Sam turned his head towards Dean’s voice and Dean finally got a good look at his brother. Even in the dim light, Dean could see the glazed over look and lack of recognition in his brother’s normally expressive eyes. “Sam? What’s wrong?” Dean could see the hitch in his brother’s breathing and as he looked away, panic was evident on his face.

“Where’s Dean?” That’s when it finally became crystal clear for Dean as to what was wrong with Sam.

“It’s okay Sammy; I’m going to get help.” Dean jumped out of his seat and hit the call button repeatedly, just as Sam started trying to pull out his IV’s. Dean grabbed Sam’s arms and held them down at his sides. He cringed when his hands wrapped around his brother’s biceps, the heat radiating underneath his hands was unbelievable. Dean felt his heart clench when he heard Sam groan from the instant contact, knowing he was probably the cause for his brother’s agony.

“It’s okay Sam; it’s going to be okay. Just hold on little brother.” Dean watched brokenly as Sam’s head rolled back and forth on his pillow, eyes clenched shut in pain. A doctor came strolling in and on seeing the scene before him, whispered something to the nurse behind him who ran off down the hall. Sam was still struggling to get up, but Dean held him in place. The nurse was back with a small vile in her smooth delicate hands. She passed the vile over to the doctor who withdrew some of the dark liquid into a syringe. He stepped over to where Sam’s IV saline drip was and injected the fluid into the line.

“Sam? This is going to help you calm down alright? Just take it easy.” Almost instantly Dean could feel Sam’s struggles weakening under his grip.

“Have to find Dean.” Sam muttered as the drugs took hold of his system. Dean released his hold on his brother as Sam drifted off to sleep, but not before uttering one last, almost breathless word.

Dean stood off to the side, staring at the sleeping form of his brother. He really didn’t know what to say. Watching Sam call out for him and to see him panic when he thought Dean wasn’t there made him nauseous. Dean turned his gaze to the doctor who was checking the monitors, readjusting his glasses every so often.

“What did you give him?” Dean asked between clenched teeth, trying to contain his anger that was at near boiling point over the whole situation that had just transpired with this general duty doctor. The doctor met his eyes and retreated; somewhat unnerved by the murderous glare he was getting from the young man standing before him.

“I gave him a mild sedative. From what I’ve read on his charts, he shouldn’t be getting out of bed for some time. He was delirious and managed to pull out one of his IV’s before you were able to restrain him from getting out of bed. I did what was necessary. He’ll be fine. It’ll wear off in about half an hour.” Feeling justified, the young doctor tapped the nurse on the shoulder. “Jamie? Get me some ice packs. His temperature is still climbing and we need to get his temperature down.” The nurse muttered a reply and left the room, her shoes squeaking the whole way down the hall.

The doctor fumbled with the charts, making notes and generally keeping himself busy so he didn’t have to make small talk with the very agitated man on the other side of the room. For his part, Dean kept quiet and sat next to his brother, keeping a wary eye on the doctor. Dean knew deep down the doctor had done the right thing, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. Having to watch Sam be drugged like that made Dean’s heart bleed for his kid brother. Dean just hoped things wouldn’t get worse for Sam.

The young brunette nurse returned promptly, ice packs in hand. She moved over to Sam and placed the packs under his arms, ankles and on either side of his neck. She re-arranged the blankets and changed IV bags before leaving the room with the doctor.

“Just hang in there Sam. You can beat this, you just have to. We still have a demon to kill Sam and I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to do this alone, okay? So just keep fighting like I know you can. You’re the most stubborn person I know besides Dad, and I know how much you hate to lose.” Dean chuckled as the memory of a 7-year-old Sam pouting after having lost one too many games of crazy eights in the span of an hour in a dingy motel room in Nashville.

“You could never seem to beat me at crazy eights Sam. You’d get so mad when you would lose so many times in a row. Course, I might have changed the rules once in a while. But still. Guess we’ll have to find you a new card game that you won’t suck so badly at when you get better, huh?” Sam didn’t open his eyes, but the faintest flicker of a smile graced Sam’s tranquil face.

It was just after 11 when Sam pulled himself out of his half conscious state. He groaned as he felt the chill of the icepacks penetrate his skin. He struggled to open his heavy eyelids. Blinking owlishly, he gazed around the room, taking in the hazy look of all the machines situated around him.

“Sam? Your brother left to get some coffee. He’ll be back shortly.” Sam’s eyes shot open and peered at the short brunette nurse in blue scrubs, adjusting his saline drip above his head. Sam merely muttered an “Oh” before letting his eyes close.

Dean walked back to Sam’s room, a hot cup of sluggish mud the hospital called coffee in his hand. He passed a nurse on his way in.

“He was asking for you.” She addressed to him before she passed him in the doorway.

“Sam?” Dean asked cautiously from the foot of his bed, afraid to wake Sam up, but at the same time hoping he would get a reply. Two bleary eyes looked up at him and he had his answer.

“Hey. You’ve only been asleep for a little while. Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Dean suggested as he took his seat.

“Dean….” Dean was instantly on alert. He could tell by the tone of Sam’s voice that something was seriously wrong.

“Sam? What’s wrong?” Dean tried to keep the panic out of his voice but was unable to control the slight shiver to his voice.

“Help.” And that’s when all hell broke loose. Dean’s eyes widened in horror as Sam threw his head back, his back arching as if he had been electrocuted. Every muscle tightening and constricting, leaving them tense and rigid. Sam’s jaw clenched shut, blood slowly trickling out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes were shut tight against the pain and agony his body was in. Then in a split second, his muscles let go of there tension, causing his arms to continuously smack against the handrail while his legs twitched and jerked in different directions. His whole body shaking and twitching from head to toe as if he had hit an electric fence. The icepacks landed on the floor with a thud, while the machines continued to wail and beep away.

Doctors and nurses rushed in, trying to control the frightening situation. Dean stood there, gaping like a fish without water, too horrified to move. He wanted to scream, to help Sam in some way, but it was like his body had frozen in place while his brother’s moved spastically on the bed before him. A nurse grabbed him by the arm and started to pull him away from his seizing sibling.

“Sam!” Dean finally found a form of control over his legs and voice and tried to make his way back to his brother, but the nurse pulled harder on his sleeve.

“Let them work. They’ll help him, but you can’t stay in here.” Dean found himself pulled outside and watched as the nurse slammed the door shut, keeping Sam’s fate locked within that room.

Dean leaned against the wall and slid down, watching as nurses and patients alike go back and forth along the hallway. A few tears made there way down his cheeks, which he rubbed angrily away. Placing his arms on his knees, he rested his head on his arms. Now all he had left to do was wait for the door to open again, so he could find out what condition his brother was now left in and what fate beheld them both.

Squeaky wheels going past his room is what broke through Sam's dreamless sleep. His eyelid twitched in annoyance at having been woken up. He tried to drift off again, but a voice was calling him. Oh now what?

Sam was more awake now, but refused to open his eyes. That voice was calling to him again and Sam turned his head away and sought refuge from the endless chatter from the person on his other side.

“Come on Sam. Open your eyes buddy.” Dean? Sam turned his head back towards his brother’s voice. Like trying to lift 300 pound weights, Sam struggled to open his eyes. Finally, his eyelids cracked open and he looked at the blurry figure that was Dean.

“Was’ a guy to do to get some sleep around here?” Sam’s raspy voice sputtered out. Dean merely chuckled.

“You’re such a kill joy sometimes Dean.” Sam answered dryly, the corners of his mouth upturning slightly. Sam had to blink a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. Taking a good look at Dean, Sam was surprised to see that Dean looked like he was ready to cry.

“You okay Dean?” Dean didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stood up and leaned over and gave Sam a brief hug, to which Sam reciprocated awkwardly, before letting go and sitting down on the edge of Sam’s bed. To say that Sam was surprised would be an understatement. The Winchester men had never been a ‘hugs all around’ kind of family, only showing that kind of emotion when they had been badly injured or quite sick for the most part. Though he was surprised, the action spoke more than any words that could be said between them.

When Dean finally spoke, his voice was low and Sam had to strain to hear what he was saying.

“I’ll be okay Sam. But you ever pull something like this again,” He began, gesturing to the room and all the machines, “I’ll severely kick your ass Sam.” Sam laughed, his dimpled smile bright and full of life, just as it should always be.

“So what happened Dean?” Sam’s questioning gaze implored Dean to answer. Dean fidgeted, uneasy about the question and unsure about how much to relay back.

“Well, what do you remember?” Sam thought hard about it, trying to recollect the events that had taken place.

“I remember being cold and throwing up, but after that I don’t really remember anything.” Dean decided to fill in some of the blanks.

“You got really sick Sam. You had a high fever that kept rising no matter what the doctors did.” Dean paused, wondering if he should continue. Sam looked at him, nodding his head for Dean to continue.

“Sam? Tell me what’s wrong?” Sam’s breathing rate hitched, as panic set in across his features. “Where’s Dean?”

“Yeah, you were Sam. Tried to rip your IVs out and everything. Doctor had to give you a sedative to calm you down.” Dean was looking at the floor by now, avoiding Sam’s eyes. Sam was unnerved by this, but he couldn’t change it and he knew there was probably more to it, but decided to let it go for now.

“Well, he did what he had to. What else happened? Dean?” Dean looked up, still pulling on the loose string on the knee of his jeans. “You…ah… your temperature went up too high too fast. You had a seizure not long after you became delirious.”

“Help.” Dean’s eyes widened in horror as Sam threw his head back, his back arching as if he was electrocuted, every muscle tightening and constricting, leaving them tense and rigid. Dean saw the blood trickle down Sam’s jaw and land on his pillow before his body released its hold, causing his body to jerk and twitch in different directions, as if connected to a circuit board that fried itself with too much electricity. His arms continuously smacked against the handrail while his legs twitched and jerked in different directions. The icepacks landed on the floor with a thud, the machines wailing and beeping away.

“I did?” Sam’s voice held an air of shock and disbelief. He didn’t want to believe that he had been that bad off.

“Your fever broke almost 9 hours ago. Doctor said after a seizure like that, you were going to sleep for a while. If I had known it would have been this long, I’d have brought a deck of cards with me.” Dean grinned and Sam merely rolled his eyes with a small smile finding its way onto his face.

“You know, I don’t remember much about the fight Dean. Like I remember bits and pieces of it, but for the most part it’s a complete blank. And then there’re a few images that I can’t place anywhere.” Dean furrowed his brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Something about two girls and some run down building. I dunno. Just kind of weird, you know?”

Dean didn’t want to think that it could have been a vision. It would just be more guilt piled up on his brother’s already needlessly guilt-ridden shoulders. Though, the vision would explain Sam’s irregular brain activity during surgery… no. Dean wouldn’t ever mention that tid-bit of information to Sam. Now that he thought about it, there was a lot that Dean wasn’t going to tell Sam about, being that most of it stemmed from the last two weeks. Things like how he had seriously considered breaking into jail and beating the royal crap out of those guys and making it as severely painful as possible. Or that he had threatened one staff member with putting his foot up his ass when the intern had screwed up trying to get a needle in to start a new IV line for Sam and had to do it over gain. Or even how close he had come to losing it all. No, sometimes it was better to keep some things to himself.

An evil thought occurred to him and he couldn’t resist irritating his brother.

The next few days saw steady improvement in Sam’s health. With the infection finally gone, the road to recovery was already being well traveled upon. The metal plates that held the small piece of skull in place were removed, leaving tiny strands of hair in its place, already growing back. Dean teased him relentlessly for his partial buzz cut.

Sam’s first few steps out of bed since the attack would have sent him to the floor, his body unable to hold itself up from the lack of use of his muscles. He would have fallen, if it hadn’t been for Dean’s strong arms holding him up.

“You’re going in the wrong direction Sam. You’re supposed to walk, not sit on your ass.” He joked as he helped his brother to a standing position. Dean’s unyielding encouragement helped Sam continue to make leaps and strides in his recovery. At the end of the week, Sam’s regular doctor, Dr. Mortison, agreed to sign the release papers, allowing Sam to finally leave the hospital. Dean couldn’t contain his excitement. With papers in hand, Dean thanked Dr. Morison as well as Dr. Rowland, Sam’s neurosurgeon, who had come to say goodbye to both brothers. Dean walked into Sam’s new room. He had been transferred from the ICU and placed in a regular room a few days prior.

“You all ready to blow this popsicle stand?” Sam was struggling to get his white button up shirt done up, his cast proving to be a nuisance.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m more than ready to get the hell out of here.” Sam finally got the buttons done up and looked over towards his brother. His eyes narrowed and a deep frown replaced the grin of triumph from seconds earlier, when he saw the sight of the black wheelchair in his brother’s hand. At Sam’s disbelieving look, Dean grinned, pushing the wheelchair back and forth making car noises.

“Doctor’s orders man. Come on, your hot rod is waiting.” Sam glared and rolled his eyes at Dean before slowly making his way over to the chair and sitting down. Dean pushed his brother out of the room and into the brightly lit hallway.

“Hey Sam? Maybe we can do a few wheelies before we leave the hospital. Make a grand exit.” Dean said as they passed the nurses station.

“I thought you wanted me to leave the hospital Dean. Not have me put back in.”

“Geez, what a kill joy.” Dean muttered under his breath as they made their way out of the main entrance doors.

Dean helped Sam get into the passenger seat, and walked around to the driver’s side and got in. The Impala roared to life, and Dean gratefully floored it, leaving the hospital and the memories in the rear-view mirror. They were silent for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Dean decided to speak up.

“So I grabbed your prescriptions before we left, so we don’t have to run to the next clinic we come across. Though, clinics do tend to have the hotter nurses….” Dean grinned mischievously as Sam let out a breathless chuckle.

“You ever try thinking with your upstairs brain Dean? You should give it a try sometime. You know, clear out the cobwebs and other crap you’ve got stuffed up there.” Dean huffed, but couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

“Jerk.” Sam smiled too; glad to be back on the road again with his brother, ready to get back to a normal routine. Well as normal a routine as the Winchesters had. Though they couldn’t go back and see those guys go to jail and pay for what they had done to Sam because of the FBI on their tails, the woman would be testifying and would help put those guys behind bars for years to come.

Dean glanced over and saw that Sam was leaning against the passenger door, his head resting against the window. His eyes were closed and Dean could tell by the even steady breaths that Sam had fallen asleep. Dean smiled to himself. Sam was on the mend and back sitting shotgun in the Impala where he belonged. They still had a ways to go before Sam was back in hunting condition, but he was back nonetheless and Dean couldn’t ask for more. With one last glance at his still sleeping brother, Dean pressed harder on the gas pedal, the open road long and unending. With the Impala moving graciously over the highway with the sun’s rays casting its shimmering glow over the interior of the car, it brought with it a promising new day for the brothers. “Don’t Look Back” played loud and clear out of the stereo as the Impala drove away into the distance.