Summary:  Gordon has friends who see Sam as a threat.
Warnings:  Spoilers up through "Hunted".
Disclaimer:  I own nothing from the world of Supernatural; Kripke owns all.

Sam and Dean Winchester smacked the ground with the flats of their shovels. It had taken most of the night, but they had successfully dug up, salted, and burned Jim Dyer’s bones before reburying them. The sky had lightened imperceptibly as they leaned on their shovels, the lantern almost superfluous. Sam’s right hand was aching. It still ached on occasion since he’d gotten the cast off only recently. The two looked down a moment more. Dean stooped to grab his duffle and their jackets while Sam shifted his weight from one leg to another to ease a cramp.

The early morning stillness was broken with a thunderclap. It wasn’t thunder or anything of a supernatural nature; it was a rifle shot. Both men dropped to the ground.

“Son of a bitch! What idiot is out hunting. . .?” Dean was furious. He lifted his head to see where the shooter was. He heard the roar of an engine; it sounded like a truck as he rose up to see if he could spot it. All he could see was the red glow of the taillights receding down the road. “Sam! You see anything?” Silence answered him. Dean flipped over to look for his brother. “Sammy!” He spotted Sam’s still form lying where he’d dropped. “No, no, no, no,” the words were a prayer of denial as he lurched over to Sam.

Lamplight was reflected in Sam’s eyes. He couldn’t figure out what had happened. He remembered trying to alleviate a stitch in his side when something had knocked him to the ground. Now, he couldn’t catch his breath at all. It felt like an anvil was sitting on his chest. He heard funny gasping sounds, wondered what was making them, and realized it was him. Dean’s face blocked out the sky as his hands grasped Sam’s shoulders.

Dean heard Sam before he could see what was wrong. He ran his hands lightly up and down his brother’s torso. Nothing on his front. He ran his hands underneath Sam and encountered something warm and sticky. He held his hand up into the lantern’s light. Blood. Sam’s eyes were open and blinking furiously. His breath was hitching in his throat. “What…” Sam coughed and started again. “What happened?”

“I don’t know but I think someone shot you.” Dean’s world had been shattered by that gunshot. Someone had deliberately tried to hurt, maybe even kill, Sam. No matter what, he’d find that person and he would pay. No one would hurt Sam.

“What could someone be hunting in a graveyard?” Sam’s words came out in a choked whisper.

Dean didn’t want to answer his brother’s question. He’d been afraid someone else would come after them like Gordon had. He was afraid that Sam, not some deer or elk, had been the target. “Not right now, dude. Let me see.” Dean pulled out his knife and slit Sam’s shirt in the back. “I’ve got to shift you Sammy; I need to see where you’re hurt.” Dean tilted Sam onto his right side and saw blood, too much blood. Dean wiped at it with the ragged ends of the shirt trying to see where it was coming from. He found the hole, high on Sam’s left side. It looked like he’d been hit in the lung; it explained the bubbly sounds. He eased Sam back to the ground. “All right, Sam, we got to get you out of here. Can you stand?” He knew it would be quicker to drive Sam in himself. He hoped that sitting upright would help his brother breathe a bit easier.

Sam was in a dream state. He knew he was hurt but the pain stayed at a distance. His fingers and toes were getting numb. He wasn’t sure if it was from lying on the cold ground or what, but he was getting a bit worried. “Dean?” Sam tried to control the panic he was feeling but he could hear his voice quavering a bit. He clamped down on his fear, for the moment, and tried to focus on breathing. It was like inhaling daggers. He felt Dean’s hands pulling him upright; his voice coaxing him to stand. He must have faded out because when he next heard his brother’s voice, he was seated in the Impala.

The car settled as Dean loaded the duffle in the trunk and climbed in himself. “You still with me Sam?”

Sam could only nod his head. He felt like he was smothering from a band tightening around his chest. His ears were ringing. His body was jostled as they drove down the road at a pace faster than it was built for. Dean cursed as the car bottomed out. He slowed down. If the car was damaged, he’d not get Sam to the hospital in time. He reached out and touched Sam’s chest to make sure he was still breathing. He was having a difficult time breathing himself. “Just stay with me, Sam. Stay with me.” He didn’t know if his brother heard him or not.

Dean hated waiting rooms. God knew he’d spent enough time in them over the years. He looked up as two sheriffs came into the room.

“Mr. Wilson. We need your account on what happened to your brother.” The elder cop felt bad about disturbing the boy; he looked ready to drop. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

While waiting for news of Sam, Dean had figured out his story which he spun for the sheriffs with consummate ease. He gave them a line about how they were looking for historical gravemarkers and collecting rubbings for a history book they were writing. No. He had no idea who would have shot Sam. No. He didn’t see anything other than the fact it was a truck. Yes. They were there awfully early but they had wanted to cover as much ground as possible and had planned to head to the next town as soon as they had finished. They thanked him for the report and said they’d return when Sam had awakened and they could take his statement.

Dean was jostled out of his contemplation of the wall by a voice calling his name. It was Sam’s surgeon. The prognosis was good. Sam would be okay. They had been able to repair the damage but he would have to stay for a few days to ensure that pneumonia or a blood clot didn’t develop. Sam would soon be moved to a room if he continued to recover as he had been. Dean closed his eyes. Sammy was still with him. All too often lately, he had been in danger. Dean, having lost his father, would not lose Sam. Or at least not long survive him. He’d come to that decision driving one night, Sam asleep in the car beside him. He was nothing without his family. He’d gone so far as admitted his decision to Sam. Sam had tried to talk him out of it. The ironic thing was, if Sam was gone, he couldn’t argue with Dean anymore. That thought always made Dean smile just a little; a sad smile with no humor in it.

Dean walked into the room and looked at Sam lying in the hospital bed. Face pale with dark circles under his eyes; he was hooked up to an oxygen tank to help him breathe. He should be waking soon according to Doctor Rosado. Dean settled back into a chair to wait. No matter how long it took, he’d be the first person Sam would see when he awakened.

Dean’s vigil was rewarded around one that afternoon. Sam had begun shifting in bed and when he finally dragged his eyelids open, the first thing he saw was Dean’s face. His haggard, unshaven, filthy face. Just like Dean to ignore his own comforts for Sam. Sam was intensely grateful but knew his brother would shrug off words of thanks.

Sam tried to talk but couldn’t get a sound out. His throat was dry, and his tongue felt like a stiff piece of leather.

“Hang on Sam. I can’t give you water yet. Let me get some ice.” Dean has kept a cup of ice handy for when Sam woke up. When it melted, he drank it and got more ice. He peered into the cup. Good, there were still some chips left. He offered one to Sam who opened his mouth like a little bird. Images of a toddler Sam popped into mind. His lips pursed to hide the fear of losing Sam that swept through him again. He rode that wave and surfaced.

“Dude.” Sam tried again and succeeded. “You look like crap. How long have you been here?”

“Not too long. You’ve been in this room since this morning.”

“What happened? I remember hearing. . .hearing something and then my chest was on fire.”

Dean really didn’t want to go into this right now. He didn’t want Sam to get frustrated and nervous at the thought of someone trying to kill him. He had hoped Sam would have been doped up too much to think but that hope was in vain. “Some idiot was out hunting and took you for an elk.”

“I don’t. . .” Sam was interrupted by the surgeon walking in. Dean was relieved to get a bit of a reprieve.

“Awake I see. How are you doing?”

“M’okay but it’s really starting to hurt. It . . .Dean?” Sam’s face grew paler if that was possible. Sam’s breathing began to catch and that caused his back and lung to flare with pain at every movement. His eyes reflected the pain he was in, pupils dilating until his eyes seemed almost black. He looked at the doctor who nodded to the nurse. She added something to Sam’s IV. Whatever it was, it worked wonders. Sam could almost take a normal breath. Eyelids weighted by lead, he reached a hand towards his brother, confident that Dean would be there. Fingers closing around his own were the last sensation he had before drifting off.

Dean’s eyes were frantic when he faced the surgeon who put up his hands to placate the older man. “He’s just come out of surgery. He’s going to be hurting for a while but all his vital signs are positive and, so long as he rests, he’ll recover completely.”

Dean looked down at Sam. In sleep, his face was relaxed, the pain no longer pinching it. A few days and Sam would be out of here. Dean settled back down to watch. His thoughts drifted back towards figuring out who the hunter might have been. They had spent their entire lives fighting evil; they were the good guys. Who else had known about Sam? Unfortunately, the list was growing. Sam should never have talked to Ellen. Dean’s frustration grew but he had no outlet which didn’t help. He almost pitied the next thing they hunted.

Dean was exhausted; he needed caffeine. The head night shift nurse didn’t like him. She’d taken exception to his insistance of staying with his brother. He couldn’t count on a nurse to help him. He’d slip out for a bit and find a cup. He’d only take a moment. “Sam. I’ll be back in a minute; I need to get something to drink.”

Sam was sleepy. He kept dozing trying to get the drugs out of his system. He’d told the doctor to cut back on the dosage of morphine. He was afraid to be unconscious but he couldn’t pinpoint what was making him so nervous. Pain radiated along his left side, but he hated feeling woozy. Dean wasn’t talking much and since they still didn’t know who had fired upon them, Sam wanted to be as alert as possible. Of course, alertness was hard to come by. He kept thinking he was closing his eyes for a moment and waking up to see that the shadows had shifted on the wall. Now that it was night, he had no way to track time. It would have been extremely frustrating if it didn’t feel so distant. “Sure, Dean, I’m not going anywhere.” He shifted in the bed and a stab of pain shot through him intense enough to bring tears to his eyes.

Jonas had been waiting a long time for this. The older Winchester was finally leaving his brother alone. He slipped in through the door of the hospital room. Sam’s eyes glittered from the sunlight slanting across his pillow. Jonas saw what he wanted to see. Just as Gordon had said, Sam was connected to a demon. “How are you doing today?”

Sam relaxed a trifle. The man was wearing scrubs and had an ID; it escaped his mind how easily obtained things like that were. He should know. Closing his eyes briefly in anticipation of pain, he took a tentative breath before answering. When a hand covered his mouth, Sam’s eyes flew open with shock. The gaze that met his was implacable. “I’m sorry I missed. It was supposed to be as painless as possible. You had to move.” Jonas noticed the boy’s eyebrows drawn downwards in confusion. Good actor. “Gordon told some of us about you. He may be out of circulation but there are others who think like he does. Guess you didn’t count on that.”

Sam tried to shake his head in denial. If he could keep this guy talking, Dean would return and he could take care of this guy. Sam attempted to lift his body off the bed; the man shoved him back down. Sam struggled but almost blacked out when the man dug his fingers into Sam’s back right where the bullet had penetrated. White lightening sheeted across his vision. He dimly heard the voice continue.

“It’s hard to believe that John Winchester’s son could be connected with a demon. What did you do? Make a pact with it while you were away at college?” Jonas’ thumb pinched the boy’s nose shut as well. Sam struggled under his hands but the struggles became weaker; the hands pulling at his arms loosened their grip before finally falling away. Sam didn’t blink. Jonas lifted his hand and a final breath was expelled from the boy’s lungs. He waited to make sure his job was done.

Dean had succeeded in his quest for coffee. That cheerful little redhead had wanted to talk to him some more since Nurse Ratchet was in another wing, but he wanted to get back to Sam. Pushing the room's door open, Dean noticed a nurse standing at his brother’s bed. His eyes narrowed, rounds weren’t for another hour yet in this hall. Looking at Sam, Dean noticed his eyes were only partially open but they didn’t move or blink. The man stepped back. Dean saw blood on his right hand as the left picked up a gun that was lying on the bed. Jonas was fast. Dean was faster. His gun still smoking, Dean leapt towards Sam’s bed. He wasn’t breathing. “Come on, Sammy, breathe for me.” Jostling Sam didn’t work so Dean began administering CPR. Not now. Not when Sam was getting better. Dean’s guilt for leaving his brother’s side consumed him. Only focusing on resuscitating Sam stopped his thoughts from yammering and deafening him.

A nurse, drawn by the gunfire eased open the door. “What’s going on?” she quavered.

“Sam’s not breathing. That guy did something.” Dean paused only long enough to spit out the words.

“Code blue” the nurse yelled over her shoulder before joining Dean at his brother’s bedside. Another nurse nudged him over and Dean reluctantly relinquished his spot next to Sam. He stumbled over against the wall and watched and pleaded silently. His intensity was finally rewarded.

Sam blinked his eyes and began to cough. “What? Dean?” His voice was barely above a whisper. The oxygen mask covering his mouth muffled sound.

“I’m right here, Sammy.” Dean stepped forward, ignoring the nurses, to clasp his brother’s shoulder.

“Guy. . .Gordon’s friend. . .said. . .I’m. . ”

“Relax, Sammy. He won’t be coming after you again.” The finality in Dean’s voice told Sam exactly what had happened. He closed his eyes. He hated the thought of Dean killing someone. Dean had once been amazed at what he would do for Sam. Not anymore.

Sam nodded before a spate of coughing took all his attention. Knives of fire lanced through his back, and he could no longer draw a full breath. Sam coughed again as spittle laced with blood dribbled down his chin. The doctor motioned for a nurse to assist in lifting his patient; the blood on the bandage told him the wound was open again. “Let’s get him back down to surgery.”

Before either Winchester realized it, Sam was whisked down the hall. Dean tried to follow but was stopped by a security guard who had followed the crash cart into the room. Gunfire had been reported. “You want to remove that hand before I remove it,” he growled. He needed to follow his brother, make sure no one else tried to hurt him.

“Look, son, your brother is going to be in surgery so whether you wait here or down in reception will not speed things up.” He watched the man to see if his words would have any effect. The floor nurses had reported how concerned he was about his younger sibling. “What the hell happened? Who is this guy? Your brother said the name Gordon. Is. . . was this Gordon?” He looked down at the body admiring the perfectly placed heart shot. The man had good aim.

“I don’t know his name.” Dean knew he had to tell something, so he told what he had seen from the moment he opened his brother’s hospital room door and then, “We had a run-in in a while back with a Gordon character. I pissed him off but we left and thought that was the end of it. Apparently not.”

“Do you know where this Gordon is now?”

Displaying his best poker face, Dean denied any knowledge of the whereabouts of Gordon Walker. He would be cooling his heels in jail for a long time.

“Well, if you can tell us anything else, let us know. Why don’t you head on down since this room is now a crime scene. I’m sure they’ll put your brother in another room when he’s out of surgery.” Dean brushed past the security guard, giving a nod to show that he’d heard. Time to wait again. Time to berate himself again. Watch out for Sammy. He hadn’t, and now Sam was hurt again. Dean ignored the redheaded nurse’s question about his brother, ignored her hand on his arm, ignored everything but how much he’d failed Sam.

Once again, Sam was in a room after recovering from surgery. There was no way Dean would leave his side until Sam was discharged from the hospital. Dean looked down at Sam’s wan face. His hands shook as he took out his cell phone and dialed Harvell’s Roadhouse.

“Harvell’s”

“It’s Dean Winchester. I need a favor,” he said with no more preamble.

“What is it?”

“I need you to tell anyone who Gordon considered a friend to stay the hell away from me and Sam.”

“What happened now?” Ellen was startled by Dean’s voice. It was shaking. As he continued to speak, she realized it was with rage and not fear.

“Someone shot Sam.” Dean ignored Ellen’s shocked exclamation. “He musta been a bad shot because he didn’t kill him. I got him to the hospital and he was recovering until…”

“What, Dean? What happened?!” Ellen felt her heart plummet. Those boys were good boys. She’d learn to respect their skills and liked them.

“I left to get coffee. When I came back, this guy was standing over Sam. Sam. . .his eyes. . .” Dean’s voice shook. “That guy smothered him. He pulled a gun on me and I shot him. The doctors were able to resuscitate Sam and then they had to take him back to surgery. That bastard had dug his fingers into Sam’s back where he’d shot him.” Dean pounded the wall next to him with his fist. It had been close. Sam’s unblinking gaze haunted him. Would continue to haunt him for a long time. “Just get the word out. I will kill anyone who tries to hurt Sam. Anyone! I don’t care if they’re a hunter or something evil; they will go down.”

“All right, Dean. I’ll pass it on but how do you know Gordon was involved?” Ellen hoped it wasn’t so but she had little faith in the matter.

“Sam spoke before they took him to surgery. He said Gordon’s name so I assume he had some part in all this.”

“He told that guy. . .about me.” Sam’s voiced croaked from the bed.

“Gotta go. He’s awake.”

“Tell. . .” The dial tone was her only answer. Ellen would wait to call and find out more information later. For now, she let the boys be.

Dean strode over to Sam’s bed. “How long have you been awake?”

“A bit. You killed that guy?”

“He had just killed you Sam! He drew on me. I wasn’t going to see if he could be reasoned with.”

One more death chalked up to him. Sam was so tired of it all. Sam’s gaze blurred. His mouth quirked in a mirthless grin. Dean could no longer deny that all the death surrounding Sam was not his fault. Guilty at causing his brother more pain, Sam closed his eyes in hopes of finding oblivion. He succeeded. Dean settled in to watch his brother sleep. The sounds of the monitors were his only companions.

“Dean?”

Dean struggled upright in the hard plastic chair. “What Sam?” he said, running his hands through his hair.

Sam smiled. It hurt too much to laugh but Dean looked so funny with his hair on end. “Dean, I want out of here. Get the AMA papers.”

“What are you talking about? You can barely take a breath on your own right now. What if something went wrong? They need to check. . .”

Sam interrupted. “What if he had a partner?”

Dean had thought about it but hadn’t wanted to give it credence nor tell Sam his fears. “I’m not leaving so you don’t need to worry. No one will get to you. Not through me.” Dean was implacable.

Sam sighed. “It wouldn’t take a gun. All someone needs to do is shoot this IV with air. There is no chance of me surviving that.” Maybe that would be for the best. No. Dean had made it perfectly clear in Rivergrove that he would not go on without Sam. Sam could not give up on himself since he would be allowing Dean to give up too. Dean was needed in the fight.

Dean sank back into his chair. He hadn’t considered that aspect. Someone using medical means to hurt Sam. Goodness knows that nurses were in and out of here all the time. He’d gotten to know most of them by face. “I know your nurses, dude. No one new will get by me. Security is keeping an eye out too.”

“Get the AMA papers.” Sam was adamant. He wanted away from this place. Only then would Dean be able to sleep.

Dean was saved from answering by the doctor walking in. “How are you doing today?”

“Fine. I want the AMA papers.”

Dr. Rosado blinked. “You can’t leave yet. There is still too much risk of. . .”

“I want out. I’m awake. I’m an adult. I want those papers.”

Older brother and doctor exchanged glances and headed towards the door ignoring Sam’s cry of indignation.

“If he leaves, you might not realize he’s in distress until it’s too late. I cannot deny his request but it could kill him. He could develop a blood clot or pneumonia. Why does he want out?”

“He doesn’t trust anyone and to be honest, neither do I. I hate to say this but can you dope him up for another day or two. Keep him so dopey that he can’t really do much? I am his brother. I'll keep watch over him, protect him.”

“I really shouldn’t go against a patient’s wishes but he could do himself harm. Give me a few minutes to get something but can you keep him distracted when I come back?”

“Sure.” Dean turned back towards Sam. “He’s going to get what you need.”

Sam sank back into his bed. If he was going to get out of here, he would need to draw on some reserves that he wasn’t sure he had. If he fell, Dean would pop him back into bed so fast it would make his head spin. Doctor Rosado walked in and handed Dean a clipboard with papers. Dean was writing while the doctor fiddled with the lines running from Sam to the various machines. Dean moved back towards the window, and Sam turned his head to follow. His limbs became cold, his eyelids heavy, and he realized he’d been tricked. He tried to shoot a glare at Dean but failed. The last thing he felt was Dean’s hand on his forehead. “Sorry, Sam, give it two more days and I promise we’ll leave. I’ll be here when you wake up. I’m not leaving your side.” Sam descended into the cottony darkness that was becoming too familiar. He wanted to rail at his brother. Something in the darkness scared him, called to him.

When Sam stirred next, Dean was dozing in the chair. His brother’s moan brought him back to consciousness quickly. “Hey, Sam, you doing okay? Another day and I promise, I’ll get you out of here.” He looked up as a nurse entered carrying a syringe that she injected into the IV port. "Perfect timing," she said.

Sam thrashed as he tried to sit up. “Dean. Don’t put me out!”

The pleading in his brother’s voice hurt but Dean knew he wouldn’t stay still to heal. He couldn’t risk losing him.

Sam’s eyelids were already starting to drop. “No…he’s here.”

“Who’s here, Sam? There is no one who will hurt you here. I promise.”

“In my head.” Sam’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “yellow eyes. . .can’t . . . escape…” His voice trailed off.

Dean’s heart was clutched with an icy grip. Oh God! What was happening? Was the demon in Sam’s dreams? He shook Sam lightly, but his brother could barely keep his eyes open. “Sam. I'm here. I’m not going anywhere. You hold on. Don’t believe it. Don’t give in. I will be here when you wake up.” Sam’s eyes did not open again. “Come back to me,” Dean whispered. What had he done?

Having promised that he would not leave Sam’s side, Dean waited impatiently for the doctor to arrive. He paced around the room, stopping each circuit to check on his brother. When Doctor Rosado walked in Dean didn’t even let him get a word out before he asked, “Can you give Sam something to wake him up?”

The doctor was taken aback. They’d decided that Sam wouldn’t rest unless drugged. “What caused this change?”

“Something Sam said when he was awake. He…uhm…he had a problem with nightmares a while back and I guess they are really bothering him while he’s been knocked out.”

“And how is that a problem?”

“If he can’t wake up, he can’t escape.”

“You make it sound like he’s in danger.”

You have no idea was Dean’s unspoken thought. “He saw his girlfriend die in a fire. She was on the other side of the flames, and we couldn’t reach her. I dragged him out but he still dreams about it. It’s tearing him apart. Please. Can you wake him up?” The last came out as a heartfelt plea.

Looking down at his patient, the doctor could see his eyes moving back and forth under his lids. The heart monitor showed an elevated pulse. He looked at the chart to see when the drug had been administered. “I can’t give him something for another two hours. The two drugs in his system might do more harm than good. I’ll order something for when it’s safe. I’m sorry it can’t be quicker than that.”

Dean sat down next to Sam and clasped his hand. He leaned close to his brother’s head and started talking to him. The litany was repetitive as he spoke of how strong he believed his brother to be, how much he needed him back. He didn’t even notice when the nurse finally came back and injected a new drug into his brother’s IV. The events of the past few days had taken a toll on the eldest Winchester and his head dropped onto his brother’s arm. Dean dozed off.

Movement under his head brought Dean upright. He watched Sam’s head shift on the pillow. “Hey, Dean.” Sam’s voice was barely loud enough for him to hear. “Long time no see.” He turned to face his brother and opened eyes that were no longer hazel but were a bilious yellow. A smirk twisted the corner of his brother’s mouth. “Miss me?”

Dean shoved his chair back from the bed in panic. This was all his fault. He’d lost Sam.

His heart pounding, Dean shot up from his brother’s bedside. Sam’s head was facing him, eyes still closed. A dream. It had been a dream. But what was that thing doing to Sam in his head? Would Sam wake up taken by it? He could tell that Sam was still dreaming. Dean settled down next to him again. If Sam was turned by the demon, would he be able to stop it? Could he save Sam? Or would he have to kill him?

When Sam dragged himself awake, he was furious and felt betrayed and terrified. It didn’t hurt quite so much as it had to breathe but he still found himself taking shallow breaths. The things he’d seen and heard made him shake. His mind had a hard time believing that he was really awake. What if. . .? He killed that line of thought.

A clipboard descended into view along with a pen. He looked up at Dean.

“Sign this.”

Sam jerked the pen out of his brother’s hand and signed. Dean pulled the papers away and handed Sam his clothes. “Are you all right? You said that you saw…” Dean didn’t know what to say. His nightmare was still fresh in his mind. “Don’t be mad at me Sam. The doctor said you would have complications if you had left when you wanted. Things like blood clots or pneumonia. Things I wouldn’t be able to handle.” He whispered, “Things I couldn’t handle. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Sam’s anger dissipated. He knew Dean was looking out for him but he needed to look out for Dean. The last time he’d looked this bad he’d had a heart attack and was dying. He bit down on the words he wanted to say as he glared at Dean “All right. I just. . .I need you to take care of yourself too. You were running yourself ragged.”

“Sam? Are you okay? The demon, did he hurt you?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it now. Let’s just get out of here.”

Dean nodded his head. “As soon as you’re clear here, we’re on the road. It’s not too far to Minneapolis. I figure it’s a big city and we’d be hard to trace while we hole up somewhere before searching for our next hunt.” He didn’t want to go to Bobby’s yard or the roadhouse yet. The chances of encountering someone who thought like Gordon at either place were too extreme.

Dean pulled out of the parking lot. Sam had his head resting against the window, eyes closed. He was still pale but his breathing didn’t seem too labored. While he’d been kept unconscious, Doctor Rosado had explained to Dean all the danger signs he’d need to look out for. He couldn’t give Dean any reassurances. Only time could heal Sam. He hoped they had the time. If Sam had a vision before he was ready, they’d learn what would happen when one was ignored. Hidden in his bag was some medication to slow Sam down if it became necessary. But now that he knew what waited for Sam in his dreams, he couldn’t drug his brother again. Although they hadn’t really spoken about it yet, Sam was still upset that Dean had lied to him about John’s final words. Now, Dean had helped the doctor drug him against his wishes. He’d been alone with the demon and unable to escape. Sam might snap if Dean betrayed him again. Their faith in each other was all they had. They could only survive together.

A/N:  I hope you enjoyed my version of other hunters coming after Sam. Please review and let me know what you thought.