Summary:  The Winchester family is faced with something it never saw coming not even in their worst fears, especially Dean's.
A/N:  Yet, another take on the events following “Devil’s Trap.” This will be AU because this story will not follow the likely outcome of the season opener.
Disclaimer:  The characters of Supernatural were created by Eric Kripke. The show is owned by the CW network. No profit is being made.

It had been a few hours since Dean had opened his eyes and his nurse had explained to him about the accident with the semi-truck. He knew his Dad was a couple rooms down from him, and was expected to make a full recovery. He had a severe concussion, but had regained consciousness in the ER and had even had the strength to explain the gunshot wound to the questioning staff. He had broken four ribs, and dislocated his shoulder. He was in and out of consciousness, but Dean had been assured that his father was doing well. The doctors couldn’t believe his father’s luck at not dying in the crash. They had been in the hospital a full 30 hours now give or take, and Dean had only seen his brother once, and even then it hadn’t been in person. He had seen Sam talking to his nurse outside his room, but he never came in. He stared at the ceiling of his ICU room. His chest hurt, and he had been told he had undergone surgery to repair a punctured lung and a nicked artery. He had also received two blood transfusions, and had a mild concussion.

A noise at the door pulled him from counting ceiling tiles. “Hey,” Sam stood hunched in the doorway.

“Finally decided to crawl out from whatever rock you’ve been hiding under, huh?” Dean’s tone sounded harsh. Sam walked in a stood a couple feet from Dean’s bed.

“You look better than you did in the ER,” Sam commented. He decided not to address Dean’s irritated comment. Dean looked at Sam and saw the stitches peeking out from under his hairline and ran down to part of his right temple.

“You okay?” He couldn’t help himself he had to ask.

“He should be in a hospital bed like you,” Dean’s nurse commented as she entered the room to check his fluid levels and vitals, and felt compelled to comment on the younger man’s health.

“I’m fine,” Sam groused. Dean looked at Sam his jaw line was tight and his lips were thinned out in what Dean surmised was either exhaustion or pain, maybe both.

“What’s she talking about?” Sam didn’t comment, so Dean turned to the source. “What do you mean he should be in a bed?”

“He was diagnosed with a severe concussion and you shouldn’t fool around with those.”

“I had an MRI, they didn’t find anything wrong.”

“That’s true, but your concussion should be monitored properly in the event you have a complication.”

“I’m fine, and I don’t remember asking your opinion.” Sam’s head was killing him, and this headache felt like it was going to push his brain from his skull. He idly wondered if it would begin to ooze out his ears from the pressure.

“Well, whatever,” she commented. “Your brother needs his rest and since you signed yourself out AMA you’ll have to leave ICU when visiting hours are over and that’s in five minutes.”

“Whatever,” Sam grumbled.

“Have you seen Dad?” Sam shook his head. “What? Why not?”

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Sam commented sadly. “He blames me for not …” Sam didn’t finish his sentence. They were in public and there would be no demon talk, but Dean knew what he wasn’t saying.

“That’s nuts Sam.” Dean was angry.

“He was right though,” Sam replied “It could have been over, if I had done what he asked.”

“Kill him, Sam,” Dean hissed under his breath. “You think you should have? He’s our father.”

“I couldn’t do it anyway,” Sam said quietly. Dean was tired and in pain, so his temper was getting the better of him.

“Where the hell have you been anyway? I know you haven’t been sitting with Dad, and I saw you a while ago out in the hallway. What is it? Dad and me crimp your lifestyle or something? I know,” he complained. “We aren’t a part of that normal life, right?”

“Dean… you know that isn’t true. You said I was selfish back in Jefferson City only cared about revenge. It’s not true you know, I sided with you in that cabin, and I put you and Dad first above killing the demon.”

“What? You want a cookie? It’s one damn moment out of a lifetime Sam,” Dean hissed. “Just get the hell out, I don’t need you!”

“Dean,” Sam tried to placate his older brother. “What that demon said was a pile of bullshit, you know that right? I’m not Dad’s favorite. And, we do need you,” he paused. “I need you. You’re my brother.” Dean leveled his brother with a hard glare.

“I said get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see you right now. Just go!” Sam dropped his eyes from Dean’s glare, and stepped back to leave.

“Okay, I’ll be back later,” his voice defeated. He turned and made it to the threshold of the door and stopped. He reached his hand out to steady himself. His head was suddenly exploding in a red hot pain, and he could feel the room start to shift.

“Don’t bother,” Dean barked. “What you need to be thrown out?” He sat watching Sam’s back as he stopped in the doorway. Sam slowly rotated to his side, and Dean watched his brother hold on to the door and slowly slide down the door threshold to a seated position. “Sammy?” His voice held no anger only concern. Sam shifted his eyes toward his brother. And, Dean saw pain and fear, raw fear. All of his anger evaporated like a morning fog in the hot afternoon sun. “Hey! Help! I need some help!” He was hitting his call button. He was wired to so many IV’s and machines. And, his sutures prevented him from getting up. “Sammy!” He tried to get up, but he literally couldn’t, and it filled him with an unequaled rage.

“Dean,” Sam looked at his brother his voice a pained plea. His eyes rolled back into his head, and just as he began to pitch sideways Dean’s nurse grabbed him before his head connected with the floor.

Staff poured into the room from the ICU department. They laid Sam out on the floor while Sue, Dean’s nurse began assessing Sam’s vitals just as an ICU doctor pushed his way in to examine Sam. “His pulse is weak,” Sue commented. “He was an AMA from the ER a few hours ago. Severe concussion.” Sue pointed out. The doctor proceeded to pull out a pen light to examine Sam’s pupils. “Jesus,” the doctor said under his breath. “Kids these days think they’re immortal or something. Get his file from the ER, and have it waiting in the MRI for me.

“What’s happening?” Dean shouted.

“You need to stay calm Dean,” Sue urged from her place beside Sam. “You need to keep your blood pressure down.”

“Screw my blood pressure!” He yelled. “What’s wrong with him?”

The doctor opened Sam’s first eye, “sluggish response on the right,” he commented. “Get a back board in here now. We need to get him to a trauma room.” He opened Sam’s other eye. “Dammit, his left pupil is blown. Call MRI we have a stat case coming down. Get a damn pulse ox on this kid. He’s looking hypoxic. Bag him.” He put a stethoscope on Sam’s now exposed chest as his t-shirt had been cut off of him. “Diminished respiratory effort.” Dean watched a technician place a mask over his brother’s face and begin squeezing a bag. There was a flurry of activity as a heart monitor was attached to Sam, and was rolled onto to his side and a board placed under him. Then he watched him picked up and placed on a gurney. The doctor peeled a swab out of a sterile wrapper, and opened Sam’s mouth. “No gag reflex. We got to intubate this kid before he gets to MRI.”

Dean watched in horror as he saw a metal device placed into his brothers mouth as his head was arched back and he saw the doctor thread a tube down his little brothers throat and attach it to a bag that another nurse began squeezing to help Sam get oxygen.

“Somebody tell me what’s happening!” Dean yelled. He was being ignored.

“Sonofabitch,” the doctor yelled. “Push a bicarb bolus. He’s got a run of PVC’s. This kid is going to code on us.”

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice could not mask the sheer desperation he was feeling. God, why did I say those things to him? I didn’t mean a word of it Sammy, not one damn word. Come on, little brother jokes over, you win, okay? Dean’s internal conversation ricocheted in his skull.

“Push an amp of epi. Okay, the bolus brought him into a workable rhythm. We got to get him to MRI, now! Clear the hallway and the elevator. Tell MRI to have the scan ready for a red line.” And, before Dean could say one more word he watched them literally run with the gurney Sam was on and head for the elevator.

“Sam!” He called out to the all ready out of sight gurney.

Dean had been replaying his last moments with his brother over and over in his head. He had been angry that Sam hadn’t come in earlier when he been outside his room, and he was more angry at the entire situation with the demon and the cabin, and that he had actually believed some of what that evil bastard had said to him. He wasn’t angry with Sammy. God, how could I have said those things to him? Dammit. He berated himself silently in his head. He had stopped trying to get someone in his room to answer his questions. It seemed like hours since they had wheeled Sam away, but looking at the clock in his room it had only been ten minutes.

“Dean?” Sue, his nurse was at the door.

“What’s wrong with my brother?”

“I don’t know,” she offered. I saw him down to the MRI lab, and just got back. He was still in the scan when I came back.

“Look, I know you know something,” his tone serious. “I want some information,” he barked.

“Dean, the chief of neurology is with him in the MRI right now, he’s the best in this hospital. If your brother is in his hands then he’s all ready off to a good start.”

“Chief of neurology? God, what’s wrong with his brain?” Dean felt the bile creep up his throat.

“There should be some information soon Dean, and as soon as I know something I’ll tell you,” she comforted. “But, you need to stay calm,” she urged.

“Screw being calm! If he was so hurt why the hell didn’t you people force him to stay in a bed?”

“I told you that your brother signed an AMA paper. That means…”

“I know what the hell it means, ‘against medical advice’ but maybe you people should have said, hey, you might drop over any minute.”

“He was told that with the severity of his concussion they wanted to admit him for twenty-four hours, but he declined. He was given an MRI and it came back clean.”

“Really?” Dean’s sarcasm was as thick as molasses. “So, why did he collapse, huh?”

“Sometimes complications don’t present themselves right away,” Sue answered. “And, had he been admitted we might have been able to treat him in a more controlled manner than the way we had to when he passed out here in your room.”

“Don’t you dare stick this on my brother,” Dean warned. Sue didn’t reply. “My dad, does he know?”

“Not yet,” Sue answered. “He’s still in and out of it from his head injury. He may not be able to be told for another day or two. They’ll have to gauge it on his level of alertness.” Dean glanced at the clock with irritation.

“They have to know something by now.”

“I’ll call down to the lab and see if I can get an update for you.”

“Thanks,” Dean’s voice was quiet.

Meanwhile, the MRI Lab

“Damn look at the size of that hematoma. The blood needs evacuated.” Dr. Kendrick, chief of Neurology commented. “There,” he pointed to an area of Sam’s scan. “It’s a shift. Man, if this kid didn’t have bad luck he wouldn’t have any luck at all.” The shift in brain position indicated to the doctor that there was increased pressure inside Sam’s brain. “Okay, get him out of there I’ve seen what I have to. He needs a red flag to the OR. Has the family been told?”

“No, but they are all patients here in the hospital. They were all in the same accident,” Dr. Greg Masters, Dr. Kendrick’s intern answered.

“Man, is this family cursed or something.” Dr. Kendrick commented. “Are they stable to be told?”

“I know the older brother is awake, but their father is in and out.”

“Talk to the brother. Be straight with him Greg, you know what we’re looking at.” The young intern nodded solemnly. “Start the kid on a mannitol drip,” Dr. Kendrick’s ordered to another staff member as they prepared Sam for transport to the OR. The lab phone rang and the technician picked up.

“It’s the ICU nurse for his brother. He wants an update.”

“Tell her Dr. Masters will be up in a few minutes to talk to him.”

Dean glanced over to his door as Sue walked in. He looked at her with expectant eyes. “Well, how’s Sam?”

“Dr. Masters is coming to speak to you.”

“Is that the Chief?”

“No, his intern, but he’s an excellent doctor and is training under Dr. Kendrick the Chief I told you about. He’ll be here shortly.”

A few minutes later a young late twenties looking doctor walked in. Dean idly thought they were probably the same age give or take a year or two. “How’s my brother?” Dean cut right to the point.

“Mr…” he hesitated realizing he didn’t know the patients name.

“Dean, tell me about Sam.”

“He’s headed into surgery. They are prepping him right now.”

“Surgery! You’re not talkin’ brain surgery,” Dean felt nauseous.

“Sir, your brother is in extremely critical condition. He developed an extremely large hematoma on his brain,’ he paused. “I mean it’s like a bruise of sorts that has left a large amount of blood sitting on his brain. And, unfortunately it appears that the intracranial pressure in your brother’s head that has most likely been increasing steadily over the last few hours since his initial head injury, and the development of the hematoma has caused a dangerously high pressure in his head.”

“What does that mean?” Dean had a death grip on the bed sheet beneath him. “Is my brother going to …” Dean’s throat threatened to close. “Could he die?”

“He’s very unstable at the moment and with all surgeries there are risks.”

“That’s not what I asked you,” Dean was blunt. “Could my brother die?”

“Yes,” Dr. Masters was matter of fact. “There is a strong chance that he may not make it off the table.” Dean closed his eyes for a brief moment trying to reign in his emotions that were pushing forward. He was scared, and guilt ridden. He needed for Sam to live. He couldn’t die.

“If he survives surgery,” Dean’s voice shook at saying if. “He’ll be okay, right?” The look on the doctor’s face filled Dean with a gripping cold. He actually shivered.

“The brain injury your brother has suffered according to the MRI scans is a catastrophic injury. The swelling has caused a shift in his brain, meaning it has actually pushed his brain slightly over in his skull pushing it against the inside of his skull. The blood gathered from the hematoma has further compromised your brother’s brain.” Dean’s mind had been reeling at the words catastrophic injury being used in reference to his Sam.

“What are you saying?” Dean’s voice was harsh. The doctor took a deep breath; he always hated this part of the job.

“Should your brother survive surgery there is every indication based on current scans and test results that he will suffer from severe brain damage.” Dean felt the sickness rise in his throat and the doctor must have noticed as well, he stepped up and handed Dean a small basin just in time for him to vomit into. There wasn’t anything on his stomach which made the effort of being sick even more painful. Silently he thought he deserved this pain. “Better?” The doctor moved the basin away and offered Dean a small cup of water. Dean offered a shaky nod.

“But, you don’t know for sure, right. I mean he could be fine,” Dean rushed ahead while he trusted his stomach not to rebel once again. He had to be strong for Sammy.

“The brain is a complex thing and I have seen some surprising results in the past,” but the doctor was hesitate to provide any false hope. “But, your brother’s case,” he hesitated. “I don’t want to give you false hope. It is a devastating injury. He was all ready in a deep coma before he went into the MRI. He is unresponsive, and isn’t breathing on his own.”

“What kind of damage are you talking about?” Dean was back to business now. He hated people telling him about his brother, and what to expect from him when these people didn’t know his little brother. They didn’t know that Sam was brilliant, that he was special. He had so much to offer, and he wasn’t going to let them define or limit him.

“His scans showed brain activity, but it was of a diffused nature which is indicative of damage. Based on what the scans provided downstairs the damage will most likely leave him unable to care for himself, possibly not communicate beyond infantile responses. But, we can’t say for any certainty the extent of damage until he wakes up.”

“So, he could be fine.” Dean knew he was grasping at straws, but he wasn’t giving up on Sammy.

“It’s unlikely, Sir. If your brother survives the surgery and comes out of the coma there is little chance that he will emerge from this brain injury without damage.” Dean felt like a deflated balloon. He decided in that moment that he would take what he wanted from the medical mumbo-jumbo he was hearing and forget the rest. No one was making him give up on his little brother. Part of him was happy that their dad was still out of it and had no clue what was happening.

“What about the surgery?” Dean questioned. “Are they shaving his head and cutting into his head?”

“No, Dr. Kendrick is working on a new technique that he thinks will be safer for your brother. He’s certain that an open skull procedure right now would be a death sentence for your brother’s all ready critical condition. He his going in through your brother’s left temple with a small drill into the skull bone where the blood has collected, and plans to drain it with a small catheter that can be entered into the brain cavity to drain the blood. And, ideally this should release some of the additional pressure. However, they have started him on some IV medications that are designed to help reduce and/or control brain swelling. But, should the pressure continue to build it may become necessary to open a piece of your brother’s skull to allow the brain a place to expand to in order to prevent brain death.”

“How long until I hear something?”

“The surgery is delicate. It may be a while.” Dean nodded, although he would have been happier with some kind of ballpark figure. “I’ll be going into the OR when I finish speaking to you and I’m sure either myself or Dr. Kendrick will be back to talk to you.” Dean nodded. “Do you have any other questions?”

“No.”

“Well, if you do don’t hesitate to ask. I’m a brother, too. I know you must be climbing the walls. But, you need to concentrate on yourself too. You can’t afford any set back for your own health.” Dean nodded silently. The doctor excused himself.

Meanwhile, In the Operating Room

“Dr. Kendrick his cardiac status is showing distress.” An OR tech called out from the telemetry station.

“Push an amp of epi.” He ordered the tech manning the IV administrations. “There’s just so much damn blood.” He commented to another colleague that joined him for the procedure. “Dammit,” he grumbled. “This kid’s brain is a mess.”

An alarm sounded with a steady wail. “He’s arrested.” The anesthesiologist called out.

“Start compressions,” Dr. Kendrick barked. “I’ve almost got the blood drained. While Kendrick continued to work his colleague took over the resuscitation efforts with the rest of the OR staff.

“Start the clock,” Dr. Jaffey barked. A nurse leaned back and started the clock that would keep track of how long Sam was in arrest while they tried to resuscitate him. “Push another epi,” Dr. Jaffey called out as he continued to administer compressions while the anesthesiologist handled respirations. “What’s his rhythm?”

“Flatline.” Dr. Jaffey shook his head.

“Come on kid give us something to work with.” He continued to administer compressions. “Down time?” He called out.

“Six minutes.”

“Push an amp of lidocaine.” He ordered. He pushed vigorously against Sam’s chest with his compressions trying to circulate the drugs in an effort to stimulate his young heart into beating. “Holding compressions” he called out. “Rhythm?”

“Still flatline.”

“Dammit, come on!” He continued compressions.

The machines continued to wail indicating Sam Winchester’s silent heart.

“He’s in V-Fib,” a nurse called out.

“Charge the paddles to 360,” Dr. Jaffey ordered. He placed the paddles against Sam’s bare chest. “Clear!”

“No change.”

“Charge to 450. Clear!”

“We got a rhythm.” The anesthesiologist answered before the nurse could respond. Dr. Jaffey allowed himself to exhale a sigh of relief. “Stewart,” he spoke to Dr. Kendrick. “You better get out of there soon. If this kid arrests again I don’t think we’ll get him back.” He looked at Sam’s heart rate and blood pressure readings shaking his head. “He’s literally circling the drain, Stew.” Dr. Kendrick gave him a curt nod.

“Almost done, Mark.” He spoke to Dr. Jaffey. “Increase his mannitol drip”, he ordered the IV tech. He closed the small opening in Sam’s skull, and stitched the wound closed with a handful of small sutures, and covered the wound with a small gauze flap. He installed an intracranial monitor, so that the pressure could be monitored. And, if the pressure crisis improved then the monitor could be removed by removing a couple stitches and pulling the thin tube out. “That’s it. How’s his heart rate and pressure?”

“Well,” Dr. Jaffey began. “At least he has a heart rate and pressure. That’s something I guess. How long was he down?” he questioned a nurse. She glanced at the clock that they had stopped the moment they got his heart restarted.

“Twelve minutes,” she answered. Dr. Jaffey shook his head with concern.

Sam was moved to recovery and was surrounded by machines and monitors. He was so pale and still under all of the equipment that he didn’t even appear to be living, but the machines beeping and whooshing around him told a different story, Sam Winchester was alive.

Dean looked up as Dr. Kendrick walked into his room. “I’m Dr. Kendrick, Chief of Neurology. Dr. Masters was called to the ER, so I came to speak to you about your brother.”

“How is he?”

“He made it through surgery. We almost lost him,” the doctor began. Dean felt his stomach drop. “His heart stopped during the procedure and it took us a few minutes to get him back.”

“But, he’s okay, right? I mean the pressure in his head. The blood is off his brain.” Dean was trying to remain calm. Now, was not the time to lose his cool. He had to maintain for Sammy’s sake.

“He’s in recovery. I was able to extract the blood and remove the large hematoma. However, the pressure inside his skull is still elevated, but has been reduced. I have him on some IV medications that I hope will control further swelling and help reduce it.”

“What happens from here?”

“Once he leaves recovery he will be moved to this unit. And, they are preparing his ICU room right now to accommodate the equipment he’ll need. Your brother isn’t breathing on his own right now and will be on a ventilator. And, the coma is deep.”

“But, when will he wake up?”

“He may not,” the doctor answered simply. “But, until he does we won’t know the extent of the brain damage he suffered. Until he wakes the level of damage can on be speculated on.”

“So, he could be okay then?” Dean was suddenly hopeful.

“I’m sorry; perhaps I should have worded my response differently. I thought Dr. Masters told you about the probable damage.”

“Yeah, but he could still wake up, okay?” Dean was in denial.

“If your brother wakes up,” he began tentatively. “Even that won’t be a quick process. He will have different levels of consciousness as he surfaces from the deeper coma. He may even open his eyes now and again, but he won’t be focusing on anything, he won’t really be seeing. The coma could last days, weeks, months even, or as I said he may never wake up.”

Dean decided he was going to utilize his earlier plan to only listen to what he wants to hear and shut out the rest. “The swelling,” he began. “You said you have him on some drugs to help, but if it gets worse that other doctor said you may have to go in again. What happens?”

“I’m hoping I won’t have to. I really don’t think your brother would survive the surgery. But, if the pressure were to increase to the point brain death is imminent I’ll have open a portion of his skull to allow his brain to expand without crushing itself against the inside of his skull. Let’s just cross the bridge if we come to it,” the doctor suggested.

“Look, I gotta know about it. If Sam needs this…” The doctor held a hand up and Dean closed his mouth.

“If he needs this surgery and it comes to that there will be a tough decision to make.”

“What decision? If the surgery will help him you’ll do it.” It seemed so simple to Dean if something was broken in his brother then by god someone was going to fix it if he couldn’t.

“If he needs the surgery I can almost guarantee that he will likely die on the table based on his current status.” The doctor saw the stricken look on the older sibling’s face. “I know this isn’t easy to hear, and I wish I didn’t have to say it. I’m a surgeon and I’m supposed to be able to fix your brother, but sometimes the body has just had enough and sometimes the only answer is to do nothing.”

“Nothing!” Dean hissed. “You’re a damn quack,” he huffed. “So, what you’re saying is he has the surgery he’ll die, but it comes to that I’m supposed to say do nothing if the pressure in his head goes up, and he’ll die, too, right? The pressure will go up until his brain dies, and then I have to pull the plug on my little brother because he’ll be brain dead. I mean that’s what you’re saying, right?” Dean’s voice was harsh. “You’re all fuckin’ nuts in this place!”

“Sir, I understand…”

“You don’t understand squat.”

“It’s not an easy decision to make,” the doctor was used to family members yelling and making harsh statements. He could sympathize with their dilemma, he was human too after all, and had his own family. But, he wasn’t in this young man’s shoes and hoped he never would be. “At this point we’re in a waiting game to see if his pressure rises. We have an intracranial pressure device monitoring his pressure. We’ll keep an eye on it.”

“When will you know if the drugs are working?” Dean took a breath and tried to reign in his temper.

“The next 48 hours should show a reduction or increase. By removing the hematoma we did relieve some of the pressure, so that is a good thing. I’m also monitoring his brain activity, as well.”

“That other doctor said he had brain activity, so that’s good, right?”

“Yes, but I’m sure he explained that your brother’s activity is diffused in nature which is indicative of brain damage. Most likely severe to profound.”

“Yeah, he said something like that,” Dean didn’t want to get into all of that again. These stupid bastards couldn’t find their asses with both hands, let alone tell him his brother’s injury was hopeless. What did they know? They didn’t know Sammy and that was for sure. Dean thought to himself.

“Well,” the doctor was taking the cue that Dean had heard all he cared to hear for right now. “I will maintain handling your brother’s case, so I will give you daily updates either personally or through my intern Dr. Masters whom you’ve all ready met.” Dean nodded.

“When is Sam going to be out of recovery?”

“Most likely another couple hours, and then he’ll be a couple rooms past you. Well, I’ll leave you now. If you have any questions or concerns I will leave contact numbers with your nurse and either myself or Dr. Masters will be available to answer them for you, okay?”

“Thank you for keeping my brother alive.” The doctor smiled and nodded there was something about saying ‘you’re welcome’ that just felt inappropriate in this particular moment.

Two Hours and Forty Minutes Later in ICU

Dean had started to squeeze his hands into fists on his blankets over and over to control his anxiety over not seeing Sam arrive in ICU within the two hours the doctor had predicted. And, then he heard the voices of staff filter into to his room and watched to see if he could catch a glimpse of his brother go by as they took him to his room. First he saw the two nurses guiding two IV poles each all filled with IV bags and tubing. Then he saw Sam, just a brief glance. He saw another nurse walking beside the gurney holding and squeezing a bag attached to a tube he could see was down his brother’s throat. He heard the various monitors beeping. And, another couple staff members were pushing Sam. His chest tightened at the brief glance he was given. Sam was white as a sheet, and the dark circles under his eyes had a sickly pale brown hue to them and the contrast of dark against the paleness of his skin couldn’t be missed.

He saw just a hint of the bandage covering the other side of his brother’s head over his temple area. And, then he was gone again out of sight. Dean wanted so badly to be with him and he internally raged against his broken body that wasn’t permitting him to be at his brother’s side. That was going to change. He didn’t care if he had to tear out his IV’s and open sutures crawling to his brother’s bedside he would see Sam.

“God, Sammy,” Dean choked out loud as the gravity of what he was seeing sunk in and resonated with him. It became too real in that brief moment of his little brother passing by his room. He saw how close his brother is dancing toward the edge. He knew his little brother was too close to the darkness, and he had to be there to keep him from slipping into the shadows. The dark was no place for his brother, not his Sam. Sam was made of light and didn’t belong in shadow and dark. Please, God, Dean thought quietly to himself as he closed his eyes trying to center himself. Look, I know I’m not the prayin’ type, but Sammy didn’t deserve this. Please, God, if you’re listening … you don’t have to do this for me, but do it for Sam. He’s always had enough faith for the both of us. He still believes in the good stuff you know? Make him, okay. Dean felt at a loss, and despite his best efforts he felt hot tears stinging his eyes. I’m so sorry Sammy, I didn’t mean a damn word I said to you. Please, be okay. You can’t leave me little brother.

“Dean?” Sue’s voice from the door startled him out of his private inner monologue. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she offered with a small smile as she stepped in.

“You didn’t. How’s Sam?”

“I came in to tell you they have him settled in his room now, and I took him on as my patient, so I can give you updates whenever you need them, okay?”

“Thanks Sue.” He paused for a second. “I want to see him.”

“Not tonight Dean. You’re in no shape to be moved let alone put in a wheel chair.”

“Then put my ass on a gurney and roll me in. I’m seeing Sam.”

“I’ll talk to your doctor and see about tomorrow, but that’s the best I can do.” Dean nodded tersely, but offered a smile. He knew Sue was just doing her job.

“How is he?”

“Holding his own.” She offered. Dean’s eyes glinted ever so slighlty.

“That’s my boy.” He said quietly more for himself, but Sue had heard nonetheless. She smiled.

Sue excused herself after checking Dean’s vitals and changing the dressings on his chest. She had given him a mild sedative to help him sleep knowing that he would fight rest with the knowledge that his kid brother was fighting for his life two rooms away. Before Dean succumbed to the pull of sleep his only thoughts were Fight Sammy. Stay out of the dark. I won’t let you go. Just fight. And, sleep pulled Dean under and his head lulled to the side, but even in sleep there would be no escape from the worry and the fear of loss for Dean, as his dreams came knocking.