Summary:  Dean wakes up in the ICU only to learn that his nightmare has just begun as Sam clings to life.
A/N:  Okay, first off. Yes, this story has Ellen and Jo in it, but I’m not a fan of the Jo/Dean hook-up route, so don’t look for undying love happening here. But, I am however, a supporter of the roadhouse only because as much as I love the brother dynamic on the show it’s nice to know they aren’t completely alone in the world. They have a place to fall back on. Yes, “No Exit” sort of left it with the notion the boys may stay gone for a while after the parting words between Jo and Dean. But, having read spoilers and script sides … I know that at least Ellen is back for episode 10. Anyway, I don’t dislike the roadhouse, although, I don’t want to always have them there, and I’m very anti Jo and Dean becoming involved. Friends yes, maybe even confidants to a degree, but a relationship, nope, no way.
I base Ellen’s behavior with Sam in this story with her interactions with him in person and on the phone. Like in “Bloodlust” she called him ‘sweetie.’
Disclaimer:  The characters of Supernatural were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No Profit is being made.

Ellen wiped the bar down as the juke box blared on and the hum of activity filled the roadhouse. It was a busy night and the place was full. Hunters were eating, drinking; playing pool and poker, and some cleaned their weapons and shared hunting stories. Ellen looked at the calendar and her mind went to the Winchester boys, John’s boys. She had been angry with herself in telling Jo about what had happened all those years ago. It was wrong to put the sins of the father on the boys, but she had inadvertently done so anyway. Jo had been angry and had told Dean to ‘just go’ … Ellen remembered hearing the Impala start up and pull out. She hadn’t seen nor heard from either Sam or Dean in three months. She wished one of them would call or they’d come back. She worried about them and wished she could undo what had been said months ago. Dean had kept his promise. He had saved Jo. He got her back alive. Ellen glanced at Jo across the bar delivering some long neck beers. Her thoughts were broken by the bar phone ringing.

“Harvelle’s Roadhouse.”       

“Yes, may I speak to?” there was a pause as if the person on the other end was searching for the information or reading it. “I need to speak with an Ellen Harvelle, please.”

“This is she,” Ellen answered bluntly. She had things to do and this person was wasting her time by not cutting to the chase. “Look if this is a sales call…” she was cut off.

“No,” the voice assured. “I’m Dr. Rosen calling from Tempe Medical Center in Tempe, Arizona. Your business card was found inside the wallet of a trauma victim that was taken into surgery. I’m hoping you might be able to provide some information toward contacting his family. Ellen felt a cold heaviness fill her. She covered an ear to block out the loud music in the bar and focused on the doctor’s voice.

“Who?” Ellen barked into the phone. “Who’s hurt?”

“Do you know a Sam Connors?”

“Oh, God, Sam!” Ellen squeezed the phone. The last name was obviously a fake ID, but she knew who he was talking about. “How bad is he hurt?” Her voice was demanding. Her mind already spinning … why wasn’t Dean there to answers the questions about Sam.

“Are you family? I can’t provide specific information unless…” the doctor was cut off. Ellen thought on her feet quickly.

“Yes, I’m their aunt. I haven’t seen the boys for awhile. How badly is he hurt?” Jo had walked up to the bar and heard the worried timbre in her mother’s voice and listened.

“Sam,” the doctor began. “As I said was taken into surgery and we found your business card with his ID. He has some extensive internal injuries with internal bleeding. He is in critical condition. The surgeons are doing everything they can for him.”

“Everything they can?” Ellen barked. “That boy is only twenty-three years old. They better damn well be doing a hell of a lot more than their everything! His older brother,” Ellen’s tone was urgent. “Where’s Dean?”

“He’s been moved to the ICU. He was stabilized in the ER.”

“ICU,” Ellen hissed into the phone. “What’s wrong?”

“He suffered some severe contusions to the chest and abdomen. He is being watched for signs of internal bleeding, but right now his blood counts are holding. He suffered a head injury. He has a severe concussion, but there is no sign of skull fracture or hemorrhage, and that’s good. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet, but I’m hopeful he will once his body gets a chance to recoup.”

“What the hell happened?”

“The police and park rangers say it must have been a bear attack or something. There have been some deaths in the recent weeks of hikers at one of the wilderness hiking areas. They think there could have been more than one animal. I do know the park ranger said they found the remains of a burnt carcass of something, but it was mostly ash and bone fragments. They think one of the boys may have shot it with a flare gun.”

“Jesus,” Ellen hissed under her breath. She wasn’t stupid, it sounded like a wendigo, but she couldn’t be sure until she talked to one of the boys. “I’m taking the first flight out. I’ll be there soon.” Ellen jotted down some notes and gave the doctor her cell phone number should there be new information on the boys or if … God forbid one of them dies, her mind closed off to that idea.

“Mom? Mom what is it?”

“It’s Sam and Dean,” she began. “They’ve been hurt. It was a hospital in Tempe. Sounds bad.” Ellen saw the flicker of indifference cross her daughter’s face and then it was gone quickly replaced by an honest worry. “Jo,” she spoke softly to her daughter. “Dean and Sam … we shouldn’t make them carry the burden of someone else’s mistake.” Jo nodded. Dean and Sam had saved her life from Holmes and she knew that in truth her anger should have never been directed at Dean that day outside the roadhouse.

“I know. Come on,” her voice strong and sure. Ellen had announced that the place was closing up, and had left Ash strict instructions to not stray far from the bar in case his talents of research were needed for any reason at all.

Tempe Medical Center, Tempe, Arizona, Mid Morning

It was a short flight from Nebraska to Arizona. Ellen sat stoically next to Sam’s bed. He had survived the surgery, but the doctor’s hadn’t been very hopeful. Sam’s heart had stopped once during surgery and again last night in the ICU. He was barely hanging on. She watched the multiple IV lines pumping various fluids into Sam, and one tube she noted with trepidation. It was feeding blood into Sam. His counts were still too low, and they had found another slow bleed, but had to close up to wait until he was stronger to endure more surgery. Now they were merely trying to balance Sam’s life against some wait or proceed notion, and the doctor’s weren’t ready to go back in yet. Both of Sam’s surgeons had explained that it was a delicate dance of letting Sam gain some strength before going back in. They had discovered a laceration on the backside of Sam’s liver, and they were hoping it would clot itself off if given time, but if it didn’t they’d have to open him back up and go in. They had told Ellen they would have sutured the laceration while still in surgery, but Sam’s cardiac status had been tenuous at best during surgery and when he arrested that had decided for them. They pulled out and tied off the major bleeders and ended the surgery.

Ellen stared at Sam’s pale, lax face and she ached. She thought of John and despite everything she had told the truth to the boys that day they first met, John was like family once and now all that was left of him were his boys. She wanted to try building a bridge back to the boys and to work through the words said months ago. She had left Jo to sit with Dean two rooms down from his brother. He hadn’t regained consciousness yet, but the doctor’s had assured her that he was making purposeful movements and they expected him to wake up soon. She turned her attention back to Sam. “Listen sweetie,” Ellen spoke softly. “You have to keep fighting okay. Your brother needs you. And, well,” her voice trailed off. “You’re just too damn young, okay? You fight as hard as you can.”

Jo sat next to Dean’s bed and was sure she had memorized every subtle feature. Her gift shop bought magazine had long since been discarded in a chair alongside the wall. She sat back in her chair watching, but not touching Dean. There was a rustle and she leaned forward. She watched as Dean’s eyes slowly opened. He squinted against the overhead light on his bed. “Dean?” He turned his head toward the mention of his name. He stared at Jo for a long moment trying to process what he was seeing. She offered a rueful smile. “Yeah, it’s really me,” she replied with a soft voice. “Just take it easy, okay. You got pretty banged up and the doctor says you’ve got one hell of a concussion.” Dean still didn’t understand why Jo was here or how for that matter. He tried to remember what he was doing last that could have ended him up here, and then he remembered with horrific clarity … a wendigo on top of Sam. Blood. Sam screaming. Horrible screaming. And, he had managed to fire a flare gun at the beast before darkness had claimed him.

“Sam?” Dean tried to sit up, but the pain pushed him back down before Jo could. He turned desperate eyes toward Jo. And, what he saw in her face at the mention of his brother’s name caused a sudden fear to possess him causing a cold sweat to bead beneath his hospital gown. “Where’s Sam?” He rasped out as the pain flared across his chest and abdomen.

“Dean,” Jo’s voice unsure.

“Dammit! Where’s Sam?” He hissed as his heart hammered against his sternum.

“Calm down,” Jo raised her tone. “He’s two rooms down, okay? My mom’s with him.” Jo assured.

“How bad is he hurt?” Dean’s eyes were pleading. Jo debated on how much to tell him and then she wasn’t so sure she should be the one to do it. She stood up.

“I’ll get my mom, okay? I’ll sit with Sam until she’s done talking to you.” Dean reached a weak hand out to her and grabbed her wrist gently as she past by the bed.

“Please,” he hated that his voice sounded like he was begging, but he had to know.

“I’ll get my mom,” her eyes conveyed some hidden fear to Dean and he knew it was bad. So bad she couldn’t find it in herself to tell him. He released her wrist. Jo hurried down to Sam’s room. Ellen’s eyes shot up to meet her daughter’s.

“Is it Dean?” she asked urgently. “Has something happened?”

“Mom it’s alright,” Jo replied. “He’s awake. He wants to know about Sam.” Jo cast her eyes toward Sam’s still form in the bed. “You need to tell him. I can’t. I’ll stay with Sam.” Ellen hated leaving the young man’s side afraid he’d slip away while not under her watchful eye. Things hadn’t improved and his blood counts continued to drop and the blood transfusions and fluids seemed almost constant. Ellen stood up.

“Joanna Beth,” her voice assertive. “You stay with him and if anything at all happens you come get me understand?”

“Okay.”

Ellen walked to Dean’s room. His eyes were closed and his mouth drawn tight in pain when she walked in. Her motherly button was immediately pushed. “He needs some pain medication or something,” she barked to a resident filling out a chart. Dean opened his eyes when her heard Ellen’s voice and saw her pointing to his room. “Dean,” she spoke firmly. “Hun, they are going to give you something for the pain, okay?”

“Ellen, please…” his voice begged. “Sam? How is he?” He didn’t care that his chest and abdomen felt like a white hot poker was twisting inside him. She sat down and edged the chair up to the bed. Dean tried to move and hissed despite his best efforts.

“Stop Dean,” she barked. “Now you lay still boy,” she commanded. “You’ve been seriously hurt and moving around isn’t good.”

“I don’t care about me. Dammit, what’s wrong with Sammy?” Before Ellen could answer him a nurse came in and injected some pain medication into Dean’s IV.

“This should take the edge off. We’re trying not to sedate you until we’ve had your concussion reevaluated after waking up.” The young nurse replied softly. Ellen and Dean both acknowledged her with a nod.

“Dean,” Ellen began. She knew she had to cut to the chase with Dean. “Sam’s in rough shape. He had surgery for internal bleeding, but there were some complications in surgery and they had to close him up.” She watched Dean and could see he was hanging on every word, so she continued when he asked no questions. “They found a laceration on the back side of his liver, but they couldn’t suture it.”

“Why not?” Ellen took a steadying breath.

“Because Sam’s heart stopped during surgery and he was too weak for them to keep operating. They are hoping the laceration clots itself off, but things aren’t looking too great. His blood counts are still dropping and he’s still requiring blood transfusions. They’ll probably be taking him back into surgery at some point. I haven’t heard yet.” Ellen paused. “Dean when I got here this morning they told me that Sam’s heart had stopped again later last night once he was back in his room. But, he’s fighting.”

“I want to see him.” Before she could respond Dean and Sam’s doctor interrupted them.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible Mr. Connors. You’re in no shape to move right now and in doing so you could put your health at risk.”

“Call me Dean.” He replied. “And, you’re not hearing me,” Dean’s tone was deadly. “I want to see my brother. I don’t give a rat’s ass about myself.” The doctor offered a knowing smile.

“I understand the need,” he assured. “I do, but your contusions are quite severe. You’re being monitored for the possible development of internal bleeding and moving around could cause a complication that would send you to the OR, and that’s something I’m trying to avoid.” The doctor decided to use his trump card. “You won’t be any good to your brother if you send yourself into surgery.”

The doctor gave Dean a neuro exam at his bed. “Your aunt has been a task master while you were unconscious,” the doctor smiled at Ellen. “She’s been keeping the staff on their toes where you and your brother were concerned.” Dean shared a look with Ellen, but didn’t contradict the mention of her as their aunt. “I’m going to order another CT for you to be on the safe side.”

“My,” Dean began and paused. “My, Uh, aunt said Sam might need more surgery because his liver is cut or something.”

The doctor looked from Dean to Ellen and back to the young man. “It’s been decided that he will need the surgery and they will be prepping him within the hour to go back into surgery. His counts continue to drop. We had hoped his body would have more of a chance to recoup, but realistically it isn’t happening. His vitals are getting more erratic and weak.”

“Dr. Rosen,” Ellen interjected. She felt like a cold hard rock had just been dropped into her stomach. “But, if he’s so weak,” she stopped. “Are you sure?”

“No options really at this point. The abdominal ultra sound we did early this morning has confirmed some other problems, but I wanted to make sure and had the scans analyzed.”

“What problems?” Both Ellen and Dean asked in unison.

“His blood counts are low and he’s developing some clotting difficulties. We’ve detected signs that a few of the internal sutures are seeping and he is losing additional blood. And, the most recent scan from two hours ago indicated that there may be an immerging bleeding problem from his spleen.”

“Why was that missed before?” Ellen felt like she was about to go on the war path. If the doctors had missed something and Sam died … God help these people. Her mind was already plotting.

“It wasn’t really missed,” the doctor countered. “It was another hidden laceration that had successfully clotted off on its own before we opened him. Now, that his blood counts are dropping and with the constant transfusions the clot has apparently begun to degrade and he has signs of active bleeding from the spleen.”

“Doc,” Dean’s voice was firm. “Look, all this medical stuff I appreciate it, but I just want to know about my brother. He’s weak, but he’s going to be okay once he’s fixed up, right?”

“I’m not going to lie to you,” the doctor began. “Your brother is in extremely critical condition Dean. We’re doing everything that is medically possible for him.” Dean looked away knowing silently what he was saying. Sammy could die. He took a breath and met the doctor’s eyes.

“Doc, please is there some way I can see Sam before the surgery? It’s just…” The doctor knew that the odds weren’t with the younger brother surviving the surgery, and this brief visit may be the older brother’s last chance to see his little brother alive, albeit unconscious and on life support.

“Alright,” he conceded. “But, we’re going to have to move you carefully into a wheel chair, okay? And, you let the nurse and aide do all of the work. I don’t want you straining unnecessarily.”

“Whatever you say Doc,” Dean agreed. “I just want to see my brother.”

“I’ll go get your nurse and an aide to help. Now just stay as you are and I’ll be back to help get you to your brother’s room. The visit won’t be long.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Dean conceded.

Twenty Minutes Later, Sam’s ICU Room

Dean sat alone with Sam holding his cool slack hand in his own. “Geez, Sammy,” Dean smiled softly. “You get that damn cast off three weeks ago, and you can’t wait to get hurt again,” he chided softly as he stroked his brother’s hand. “I’m sorry I screwed up Sammy. It’s my fault you were hurt. It should be me in this shape and not you.” Dean stared at all of the equipment keeping his brother alive and tried to ignore the constant click and whoosh noise from the ventilator breathing for his little brother. He watched the unsteady blips crossing the heart monitor screen. He saw Sam’s heart rate fluctuate between 54 and 50. He knew Sam was clinging, he was fighting, but for how long. “Please, Sammy,” Dean’s voice caught in his throat. Large tears welled and broke rolling down his cheeks. “Sammy, I can’t lose you, too. You hear me? I can’t,” his voice pleaded and suddenly his tone dropped … urgent … angry … and then emphatically, “I won’t.”

“Dean,” Ellen’s voice was soft at the doorway. “They’re here to take Sam to surgery.” Dean cast his eyes toward the woman and nodded.

“You hold on Sammy,” Dean squeezed his little brother’s hand gently. He leaned forward despite the pain that laced through him as he did so and whispered into Sam’s ear. Private words meant only for the two brothers. “Don’t leave me, kiddo.” Dean ran a hand through his brother’s long and unruly bangs. Dean watched the OR staff take his brother away until he was out of sight.

“Dean,” Ellen hazarded a touch. She placed her hand on his shoulder trying to offer some kind of support. Dean looked at her, but didn’t withdraw from the tentative touch she offered. “The doctor wants you back in bed,” she encouraged. The nurse and aide walked in to wheel him back to his room. Dr. Rosen appeared in the doorway.

“Okay, let’s get you back to your room.”

Dean was resettled in his room. “I’m going to order an ultra sound and a new blood count just to be on the safe side. I want to make sure you didn’t do any more damage.”

“Doc,” Dean stopped the man before he left his room. “When will we know about Sam?”

“The surgery could take a few hours depending on the additional bleeders that may have developed. When I have any news I’ll let you know. The CT staff will be up in an hour to take you down on a gurney for a new scan.”

“I want to be here for information,” Dean complained.

“There won’t be any updates for a while and you need this.”

“Dean just let them,” Ellen encouraged from the door making an attempt not to sound like she was trying to dictate to him. Jo stood quietly behind her mother.

Two Hours Later

Ellen and Dean sat in a slightly tense, yet companionable silence. Jo had gone to get her mother a coffee in the cafeteria. “Dean,” Ellen decided to break the silence and tension.

“Yeah,” he answered absently. His CT scan had been negative and there hadn’t been any complications from his short visit to see Sam before he left for surgery. He was in a lot of pain, but had declined anything stronger until he had word about his little brother.

“This isn’t the time, but I’m not sure there ever would be,” she began. “Hell,” she grumbled. “This isn’t coming out right.”

“It’s okay,” Dean offered without looking at Ellen.

“No,” she replied. “Look, Jo took out her anger out on you, and I shouldn’t have told her, I… it’s just that almost losing her on that hunt. I just…”

“I kept my promise,” Dean answered quietly. Ellen smiled despite her best effort not to.

“Yeah, yeah you did,” she replied. “Dean, I was wrong to say what I did. You boys aren’t to blame for anything. And, if you hadn’t been there for Jo,” she paused. “I would have lost my daughter.”

“I lied to you back then. I should have hauled her ass right back to the roadhouse. It was my fault she was taken,” Dean offered.

“Yes, her ass should have been hauled back, but what is done is done. And,” Ellen looked at Dean. “If it happens again I will kick your ass into the next decade. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Dean answered. “Thanks,” his voice soft.

“For what?”

“Sitting with Sammy when I couldn’t and for bein’ there.”

“No thanks needed. Look I know I had a rocky history with your daddy, but I really did mean it when I said John was like family once. And, you boys,” Ellen met Dean’s eyes. “Your John’s boys and despite anything else … I got your backs. I know you and I haven’t exactly been like butter and toast, but I’d like to try.” Ellen paused a moment. “Trust doesn’t come easy for our kind,” she looked at Dean. He understood what she was implying. Trust didn’t come easy among hunters and family of hunters. “But, I’d like to try,” she offered. Dean nodded.

“How do you think Sammy’s surgery is going? It’s been two hours.” Dean changed the subject. He had allowed the small mental distraction of casual conversation, but now his mind returned to thoughts of his brother.

“I’m sure when there is some news Dr. Rosen will tell us.”

Meanwhile, the OR

“Dammit this kid’s lost so much blood volume. Increase the rapid infuser.”

“Dr. Paquet he’s bleeding out faster than we can replace it,” the young surgery intern replied to his mentor.

“The liver sutures are holding. The spleen bleeding is stopped,” the doctor was speaking out loud more of a mental check list. “Christ, here we go again. Friggin’ bleeders. He’s bleeding like a stuck pig. Just when I think we’re in the clear. Damn get some clotting factor in this kid.”

“His blood pressure is bottoming out.” The anesthesiologist called out.

“Lost his pulse,” the young intern barked out before anyone else could.

“Start compressions,” Dr. Paquet ordered. “I’ve got damage control with the bleeders. Just get his heart started again. Come on people hustle,” the doctor commanded.

The OR was a flurry of activity. One noise was heard above everything else. The solid wail of the heart monitor indicating that Sam Winchester’s heart wasn’t beating.

“He’s not responding,” the young intern panted as he continued compressions while his mentor continued to locate, suture and cauterize bleeders as he found them.

“Push another high dose Epi,” Dr. Paquet called out as he continued to work.

The room was at a fever pitch. The OR had turned into a battle ground for a young life. It was clear that Sam was slipping and Dr. Paquet hated to lose.

“Dr. Paquet, he’s still flat. I’m not getting anything.”

“Be more aggressive with your compressions. Push an amp of atropine. Circulate the meds.” The doctor barked as he continued to work. He finally felt like he was getting ahead of the snowball effect happening until another problem developed. “Damn the liver sutures are oozing,” the doctor complained.

“He’s in V-Fib,” the intern suddenly shouted.

“Give me the damn paddles,” Dr. Paquet yelled. “Set at 360. Clear!” He applied the paddles to Sam’s chest and watched the young man’s body jerk upward as the shock entered his body. Everyone looked at the monitor. “Dammit, come on kid. Charge to 450! Clear!” Sam lurched upward yet again.

“Holy crap, we got him. It’s a weak pulse, but…”

“But, nothing,” Dr. Paquet commented as he returned to his work inside Sam’s abdomen. “Something is better than nothing. Now you just keep his heart beating.” The doctor looked around Sam’s abdomen and sponged and suctioned. “How the hell,” the doctor barked to himself as he continued to examine Sam’s oozing liver.

“What?” The intern asked. “Maybe it’ll clot. The clotting factor we gave him seems to be slowly taking effect.” His mentor shook his head.

“This isn’t going to clot,” he lifted Sam’s liver and pointed to yet another laceration buried along the anterior side of a small part of his liver. “I’m going to have to remove a small portion of his liver.”

“His blood pressure is dropping again,” the anesthesiologist notified.

“Push an Epi bolus,” Dr. Paquet ordered. “I just need another thirty minutes. Keep him going.”

Thirty minutes later, Dr. Paquet surveyed his completed work and noted that he saw no new bleeding or oozing after the partial lobe removal. “I’m ready to close up. Looks good. How’s his pressure?”

“Well,” the intern began. “He’s got one.”

“That’s something,” the seasoned surgeon replied to his young intern. “I want a new blood count on this kid even before he goes to recovery. And, I want him to have type specific transfusions until his levels are stabilized.” The intern nodded. He drew a blood sample from an IV port quickly. Dr. Paquet continued to suture Sam’s surgical site closed.

Meanwhile, twenty-minutes later in the ICU, Dean’s Room

Dr. Rosen walked into Dean’s room. Ellen and Jo both looked up. Dean despite his best efforts to not fall asleep had done just that about an hour ago. “You have news?” Ellen whispered as she stood up. Dean even with the extreme fatigue of his injured body woke immediately at the sound of movement and Ellen’s voice. Once a hunter always a hunter.

“Sam? How’s my brother?” Dean cleared his voice looking at the doctor.

“He’s in recovery. His condition remains critical. They almost lost him in the OR, but were able to resuscitate.” Dean fought to control his emotions at hearing his brother’s heart had stopped yet again. Dean interrupted the doctor.

“The bleeding,” he began. “Was the doc able to stop it all?” Both Ellen and Jo listened intently.

“Yes, it appears so. They were able to give Sam some clotting factor and it finally began to help. Unfortunately, Dr. Paquet discovered another laceration in Sam’s liver that was hidden and he was forced to remove a portion of your brother’s liver.” Dean felt the bile creep up his throat, but he forced it back down. Dr. Rosen noticed the stricken faces of everyone in the room. “But,” he added quickly. “He’s not going to miss it. In fact, the liver can actually grow new liver tissue over time. And, given enough time his liver will be the way it was before the partial removal.” The tension eased only a fraction.

“You said,” Ellen started. “Sam’s heart stopped again,” she took a breath. “Has there been any damage to his heart?”

“Nothing permanent. He suffered a cardiac contusion in the animal attack, but it wasn’t severe. The cardiac arrests are almost assuredly caused from the blood pressure issues, and blood loss. He’s a fighter.”

“How long will he be in recovery?” Ellen asked and Dean felt glad for the woman’s presence. She was asking questions he wanted to, but he just couldn’t find his voice as often as he needed it.

“I suspect a couple hours or so. He’s had major surgery. They are monitoring his blood counts closely and they aren’t taking any chances right now.”

“But, he’s stable,” Dean hedged.

“I wish I could say yes to that Dean,” Dr. Rosen answered honestly. “He survived the surgery and he’s holding his own. He’s alive and let’s work with that for now, okay?” Dean felt like a deflated balloon. He was desperate and his emotions were griping his chest like a vise. Ellen could almost feel Dean’s fear and desperation as she reached out without really thinking and dropped a hand on his forearm patting it gently and then resting it there for a brief moment to offer a reassuring squeeze.

“Will he be taken back to his room after recovery?” Ellen asked the doctor as she gave one more quick squeeze and released Dean’s arm.

“Yes, once they feel he is stable enough for transport and his blood counts aren’t showing any signs of going down Sam will be returned to his room.”

“What if his counts drop again?” Ellen voice was insistent.

“Then they may be forced to take him back into surgery.”

“What? No!” Dean barked suddenly. “How much more do you expect him to take? He almost died in there. He goes back in there … he’ll die. You people will kill him,” Dean hissed violently as his own heart monitor beeped wildly.

“Dean, Hun, calm down,” Ellen tried to urge gently and when that didn’t work she had no other choice. “Dean!” she barked. “Calm down now,” she commanded. “You can’t fall apart now when Sam is going to need you,” she met Dean’s frantic eyes. “And, he will be needing you,” she asserted as her eyes softened. It had been a simple reassurance, but he’d take it. There was something in her eyes that made Dean believe and he clung to that hope.

“Dean,” Dr. Rosen began tentatively as he made sure his patients heart rate had adequately dropped into normal limits. “How about this…” the doctor offered. “Once Sam is back in his room I’ll see about letting you sit with him for a while. Your recent blood counts were good, and as long as you’re still willing to accept your physical limitations right now and follow my orders, or,” he paused with a smile and looked from Dean to Ellen, “or your aunt’s gentle direction then I’ll let you have some time with your brother. Deal?”

“Thanks Doc.”

“Deal?” Dr. Rosen needed to hear it from Dean. “You’ll follow doctor’s orders?”

“Yeah, whatever I gotta do to see Sam.”

“Good. Now get some rest. Sam will be in recovery for at least two hours I suspect if not longer.” Dean nodded.

The room was silent for a long moment and then Ellen spoke. “Jo Beth keep Dean company while I run to the bathroom.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Dean and Jo sat in silence. He didn’t feel like closing his eyes just yet, and Jo seemed entranced with picking at her fingernail cuticles. Dean just stared straight ahead and watched the busy activity in the ICU unit through the large window between his room and the unit.

“Dean?” her voice was soft and held no cockiness to it that he was used to, in fact she sounded nervous. Dean turned his head met eyes with Jo.

“Yeah?”

“About what I said,” she began with hesitation. “Back at the roadhouse … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken everything out on you. You didn’t do anything.” Dean squinted at her for a long moment and then proceeded to look around the room with an air of observation. “What are you doing?” Jo questioned as she looked wherever he looked. “Well?” she asked.

“I’m lookin’ for the candid camera,” Dean replied with a soft smile. Jo realized it was Dean Winchester’s version of an olive branch.

“Ha-ha very funny,” she complained. “So we’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered quietly. He was silently happy for the brief moment of levity her apology offered. “So how bad did that hurt,” he countered lightly referring to the apology.

“You have no idea,” she replied with a rueful smile.

“And, I thought I might have to referee when I got back?” Ellen mused from the doorway. Jo shrugged at her mother.

“Nah, Mom, we’re good.” Dean nodded.

Four Hours Later, Sam’s ICU Room

Dean sat watching his brother. He was glad they were all leaving him alone with his little brother. A nurse came in every 10 minutes or so to check various fluid levels, drains, and tubes coming from or going into Sam. “Sammy,” Dean’s voice was soft as he held his little brother’s hand. “The doc says you’re fighting,” his voice shook. “I know you gotta be tired little brother, but you can’t let go, okay? I can’t do this without you.” Dean ignored his own pain as he reached up to stroke his brother’s chestnut colored hair. He watched the mechanical rise and fall of his sibling’s chest. His face was pale and his lips almost colorless. He found himself staring at his brother’s dark eyelashes and wished desperately that they’d flutter and his brother would open his eyes, but nothing happened.

Dean held Sam’s hand tightly within his own trying to infuse some of his own warmth into his brother’s cold, slack hand. “This is so fucked Sam,” Dean choked as he fought to contain a sob. He felt his little brother’s light flickering and if that light was lost he knew he’d never find his way out of the darkness. Sam had always shown a light in his big brother’s shadows and kept the darkness inside him at bay. Sam was his hope, his light. Dean clung to his brother; he clung to the light that was Sammy. “I’m not letting you go,” Dean whispered to his brother as he fought back the tears. It was a losing battle against the wet tracks that cascaded down his face.

“Dean?” Dr. Rosen spoke softly from the door. He could feel he was intruding on a private moment between the brothers. Dean glanced at the doctor, but he returned his eyes to his brother. “We should get you back to your bed. You’ve been with Sam for a half hour now. You need to rest and I’m ordering another blood count for you. We need to do some things for your brother.”

“What?” Dean turned sharp eyes toward his and Sam’s doctor.

“We need to take new blood counts on Sam and the surgeon is coming in to check and change out some tubing and drains. Also, the nurse needs to do some things for him.”

“I want to stay.”

“I’m sure you do, but remember our deal. After I make sure you’re not doing damage to yourself and you get some rest … I promise you can sit with Sam again.”

“My blood counts are fine. They have been every time. Just let me stay.”

“Dean the last time I checked I’m the one that’s your doctor and I think you’re so focused on your brother that you could care less about yourself.” Dean interrupted him.

“Nothing wrong with that,” he hissed. “He’s my little brother. He…” Dean wasn’t aloud to finish.

“Dean,” Ellen’s voice spoke up over the two men. “Please, you know Sam wouldn’t want you to push yourself. And, what if he’s hearing all of this? You want him to worry about you while all his energy should be directed toward getting well.” Dean looked at her. When did she become so pragmatic? She smiled ever so slightly. “So, move your ass kiddo,” she chimed softly. Now that was the Ellen Dean was familiar with.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean cast one last look at Sam before they started to wheel him back to his room. “Hey Doc?” Dean asked suddenly.

“Yes?”

“When should Sam be waking up?”

“His body has been through a lot and he’s also been given a mild sedative to keep him out for a while. He has a lot of healing to do. It may be a couple days before he wakes up,” he paused. “Or longer, it’ll depend on Sam when it comes down to it.”

Dean nodded.

Two Hours Later, Dean’s ICU Room

Dean stirred and opened his eyes and saw Jo leaning into her hand with her eyes closed. He hated that he’d fallen asleep. He looked around the room briefly and quickly saw Ellen wasn’t there. “Where’s your mom?” His voice startled Jo.

“Sitting with Sam for a little bit. She told me to get her when you woke up.”

“Is Sam okay? Did something happen?” Dean struggled to try and sit up, but again the pain pulled him back down. “Dammit!” He pounded his fist against the mattress in frustration over how his body was betraying him and letting Sam down. He should be with his brother.

“Hey, take it easy there,” Jo stood up from her seat. “He’s the same. I’ll get my mom.” She left the room quickly and Dean recognized her coping mechanisms were close to his own. His theory being if you bob and weave enough maybe you can avoid the uncomfortable moments. The theory sucked, but he’d never admit it out loud.

“Dean?” Ellen appeared in the doorway alone. “I had Jo sit with Sam.” Ellen assured the older brother. She wanted to make sure that he knew Sam wasn’t alone.

“How is he? Jo said he was the same. I want to see him.”

“Yeah, well your blood pressure is lower than the doctor would like, so you’ve been grounded until it comes back up. So, you need to rest. You’re pushing too hard. Sam is holding his own right now.”

“Don’t you get it,” Dean hissed. “It’s my fault. That damn wendigo,” he paused. “It should be me in that shape. Sammy got its attention away from me. That fucking hunt was my idea. He’s lying in there fighting for his life. Don’t you understand,” Dean barked. “If something happens to him … I … I… did this to him.”

“Shut your mouth Dean,” Ellen warned. “That boy is alive because of you. If you hadn’t stayed conscious long enough to fire that flare gun he’d be dead and you right along with him. The doctor couldn’t even believe you stayed conscious long enough to do anything because your concussion is so severe. Sam is alive because of you, so no more of that self blaming crap, you hear me?”

“You call that living,” Dean replied with venom. “He’s plugged into so much shit you can hardly find him under it all. He’s not even breathing on his own … no a fucking tube down his throat hooked to a machine is doing that for him. And, his liver, hell, you heard the doc … they had to take out some. His liver for Christ sake! What if …” his voice trailed off as he felt his eyes begin to sting as he fought the tears. He wouldn’t cry in front of Ellen.

“Dean,” her voice softened as she saw his internal struggle play out across his face and in his eyes. “Look,” she sat down next to him. “No what ifs, alright? Maybe, there could be some set back, maybe not. And, you heard Dr. Rosen, he said Sam’s liver will heal given time.” She urged. “He’s alive now, and you still have your brother.” Ellen and Dean sat silently with one another for long minutes. In many ways they were being silent comfort for the other. He was silently glad she was here for Sammy and for him.

Jo appeared in the doorway suddenly. Ellen and Dean both looked at her and saw the distress in her eyes. And, the flurry of activity running by Dean’s room window set both Ellen and Dean’s heart’s racing. And, Jo’s fearful words shattered the tenuous moment, “Something’s wrong with Sam.”