Summary:  The ending of "Devil's Trap" never happened, and this is a what if, what would have happened if the demon had gone after Sam after it had been expelled from John.
Spoilers:  AU: "Devil's Trap"
A/N:  Hey guys... I have already broken my two resolutions for the New Year, I haven't been writing three chapters a week... And well who can stay away from Ice Cream? Stupid resolutions anyway! Except for the chapter one... I really did mean to do that, just been busy I guess...
First of all this idea has been running around rampant in my brain since Devil’s Trap first aired, and I suppose it’s because I’m a fan of Limp!Sam that it was even there at all...
I just wanted to write a story where when the demon left John, it did a good amount of damage to Sammy also, and because I don’t think there was enough Sam angst in the last episode of the first season... (Ha! Maniacal laughter is inserted here...)
Oh Yeah... DAMN! I think I'm allergic to the computer, every time I get near it, I start sneezing... Ahh man... Always allergic to the good things in life... I can't drink milk either...
Anyway onto the story...
Disclaimer:  I own nothing to do with Supernatural... That's Kripke's, the lucky bast- man...   Title from song by Flyleaf.

You can only move as fast as
Who's in front of you
And if you assume
Just like them
What good will it do
So find out for yourself
So your ignorance
Will stop bleeding through
-Flyleaf (Breathe Today)

“You shoot me son! You shoot me in the heart!” John yelled at Sam. Sam looked at Dean his heart and mind tearing him in two different directions.

He couldn’t shoot his own father, and when he looked to Dean who shook his head no, telling Sam not to do it, Sam lowered the gun.

John yelled out, and a black cloud poured from his mouth, floating towards the ceiling. Sam watched the cloud, and then looked back at his father. The man gave his a disapproving glare, his features laced with defeat. Sam turned away from him, and watched as the black cloud drifted towards them again.

The cloud seemed to form a grin, but before Sam could do anything it shot towards him. He heard his father and Dean call out for him, but there was nothing he could do, as the cloud reached him, and threw him across the room. He hit the wall hard, and fell to the floor gasping for air.

The cloud shot for him again, but he was too dazed to even move. He was once again picked up, and this time he was thrown at the door. The wood splintered around him as he hit, and the door broke off its hinges, sending Sam to the ground outside. Sam felt his shin snap as he landed on it, and he let out a weak scream.

Seemingly satisfied, the cloud dissipated, leaving every one of the Winchesters broken in its wake. As the cloud left, Sam lost his fight with consciousness, and waded into the welcoming darkness.

John watched helplessly as his youngest son was thrown across the room into a wall. As Sam was picked up and thrown again, this time into the door, which broke, sending Sammy onto the ground outside, John was already moving, dragging himself closer to both his sons. He watched as the cloud that was the demon faded into thin air, and then looked down just as Sam’s eyes were closing.

John pulled himself closer to Sam, but stopped as he got close to Dean. His oldest waved at him to go check on Sam, and haltingly he pulled himself closer to the mess that was Sam. As he stopped at Sam’s side, John reached out, feeling Sam’s neck for a pulse, ignoring the rest of him, until he felt the unsteady twitch under his fingers.

Realizing that there was no way in hell he was going to get his sons out of the cabin and to the hospital by himself, John reached into his pocket for his cell phone, as he took stock of Sam’s injuries. As his hand hit the small phone, John dialed with one hand and with the other, he checked Sam’s pupils for a concussion. The reaction he got was sluggish, telling him that Sam definitely had a concussion.

“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?” A peppy voice from the other end of the phone asked.

“My sons and I were in a hunting accident. One of them fell trying to help the other, and while they were fighting a-” he thought for a second, and then said, “-a bear, one of them accidentally shot me.” ‘Good one John’ he thought. “We need help really fast, please they aren’t doing good. If you don’t get here soon, I don’t think they’ll make it.” With that John stated where they were, and asked them to send someone as fast as they could, his son’s lives depended on it.

Afraid of moving Sam, John pulled himself back through the doorway and over to Dean, who was long past unconscious. Feeling safer moving his eldest, John got a grip under Dean's arms and dragged him over closer to the door, where he could keep an eye on both his sons.

He didn't know how long it took, but as John heard the sirens grow closer, Dean's breaths grow raspier and Sam's shallower; John gave into the darkness that had been pulling at him, since he had forced Sam to shoot him.

Dana Davin and her partner, Jake Dumas pulled the ambulance into the dirt driveway of the hunting cabin and shutting off the engine, both grabbed their medical bags, and ran towards the cabin. They first came upon Sam, lying unnaturally still, leg twisted in an odd angle, blood running freely from his head, and shallow breaths grating through his lips.

Dana knelt next to him, and Jake, seeing the two older Winchesters went inside to help them. Seeing the damage done to all three of the men, Jake called for back up; knowing that there wouldn't be enough room, or supplies to help all three of them in the ambulance. Both Dana and Jake worked on the men, trying to stabilize them enough to travel.

Just as two more ambulances were pulling up, Sam took a few more grating breaths, then stopped breathing all together.

Dana was securing Sam to a stretcher, and felt her throat go dry as Sam’s breathing stopped. She reached her hand up to his throat and felt for a pulse, gasping when she felt none.

“I need help here, now! He’s not breathing, and I can’t find a pulse!” Dana tilted Sam’s head back, and placed a translucent blue oxygen mask and bag over Sam’s nose and mouth, while another paramedic, readied to start compressions.

One... Two... Three... Squeeze!

“C’mon son, breathe!” Dana chanted as she and the other medic continued CPR on the young man laying unconscious and not breathing before her.

After a few minutes they found a pulse, but Sam still wasn’t breathing. Checking, Dana found no gag reflex, and she and the other medic prepared to intubate the young man before them. They moved the stretcher with him on it into the back of the ambulance, where they had the equipment to properly get him on the ventilator.

Dana threaded the tube down Sam’s throat, and the medic beside her attached the tube to the ventilator. After the machine was turned on, the click and whoosh sounded through the ambulance, as Sam’s chest rose mechanically.

Dana attached a blood pressure cuff, while the other medic started an IV. Sam’s BP was low, and Dana cut off his shirt, to try and see where Sam was bleeding. Wicked looking bruising lined Sam’s abdomen and side, and even without the help of machines, Dana could tell the man in front of her had massive internal bleeding.

Not wanting to cause any further damage, without knowing just where Sam was bleeding from, Dana didn’t feel for broken bones. She attached heart monitors to his chest, and moved to get a look at his eyes, to gauge the severity of his concussion, knowing without looking, just from the blood, and the bruises on his face and neck that Sam had a concussion.

Sam’s pupils were sluggish, and way too dilated, for her liking, and she knew that with the amount of head trauma Sam sustained, he could easily slip into a coma.

Five minutes later they pulled into the hospital’s back drive, and Dana and the other medic prepared to move Sam to the ER. The ambulance stopped, and the doors opened, doctors and nurses at the ready to help in any way they could.

As Dana and the other medic unloaded Sam, with the help of the others, Dana immediately started spouting information. “Male, early to mid twenties, sustained massive head trauma, has severe internal bleeding, and a multiply fracture to his shin. Has been unresponsive since we arrived, and he stopped breathing at the scene. We managed to get a pulse back, but we couldn’t get him to breathe on his own.”

The doctor nodded at her, and told her and the other medic that they could take it from there, allowing Dana and the other medic to take a breather. Dana watched as Sam was wheeled away, feeling an odd pang of regret at what had happened to him. In her ten years of being a paramedic, she had seen a lot of things, but for someone so young to be hurt that badly, it always broke her heart.

John woke to find himself staring at a blank white ceiling, knowing immediately he was in a hospital. When he remembered what had happened to put him in the hospital, John immediately tried to get out of bed to find his boys. He had almost made it when a nurse and a rather big orderly walked into the room, the nurse giving him a smile, and the orderly gave him a glare.

“Ah, Mr. Scott, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” She asked as she walked closer to him, checking his vitals and then looking him in the eye.

“I’m fine, but my sons, where are my sons?” John asked, and when the nurse shared an uncomfortable look with the orderly, John’s panic peaked. “Are they okay? What’s wrong?” He asked, afraid of the answer.

“The two younger men brought in with you?” The nurse questioned, and John nodded. “Well the younger one, Sam I think his name was, he’s in ICU. He had to undergo extensive surgery, for internal bleeding, and he is being given blood, for the extensive amount that he lost. Pins and a metal plate had to be placed in his shin, to repair the break, so he’ll have to use crutches for a few months after he gets out of here.” The nurse took a deep breath, looking as if she was dreading to tell the oldest Winchester the rest.

“Due to severe head trauma, Sam slipped into a coma, it could take days, weeks, or months for him to wake up, if he does at all. He also stopped breathing at the scene, and though we got a pulse back, Sam isn’t breathing on his own.” John felt as if someone had taken his heart and squeezed it in a vice.

“And Dean?” He choked out, “What about Dean?”

The nurse looked at him sympathetically, and said; “We repaired his chest, though it looked as if someone had tried to rip his heart out from the inside, and all his vital signs have been holding, so he should be fine, marring any complications.” John felt better that Dean would be okay if nothing drastic happened, knowing that at least one of his sons would pull through.

“Can I see them?” He asked.

“Well we need to get you checked out first, but if you’re okay, you can see Dean. Sam isn’t being allowed visitors at the moment, his immune system can’t take anything more. Even the common cold could really hurt him right now.” The nurse said solemnly, and John nodded; feeling as if his heart was breaking, but knowing at the same time, that it was what was best for Sammy.

John had allowed himself to be poked and prodded by his doctor to the breaking point, before he finally decided that he had had enough, and that he was going to see his sons. Signing out AMA, John limped down to the ICU, a nurse telling him that he could see his son through the glass window of the room he was in, and John was going to take anything he could get.

He wasn’t fully prepared for what he saw when he reached Sam’s room though, and sucked in a deep breath when he looked at Sam. His youngest son was dwarfed by the equipment surrounding him. There was a tube down Sam’s throat, and though John knew it was there to help his youngest son, he shuddered when he looked at it.

IV’s ran piggy backed on Sam’s right hand, one sending antibiotics and pain killers, and the other sending blood, to replace what Sam had lost. Wires ran under the neck line of Sam’s hospital gown, there was a blood pressure cuff on his arm, and a clip on heart monitor was attached to one of his fingers.

John’s heart clenched painfully at the sight. He placed his hand against the glass window and sighed.

Oh, Sammy...

John walked into Dean’s room and though his oldest son looked better than Sam, John couldn’t help the pain that shot through his heart, seeing his son broken like this.

Dean lay in the hospital bed unmoving, his skin on a few shades darker than the sheets. An IV ran into the back of his hand, feeding him antibiotics and pain killers, and a heart monitor was attached to his finger. A blood pressure cuff was attached to his upper arm, and wires ran under the neckline of his hospital gown. The only thing helping Dean breathe was a nasal canula and John was just happy that Dean didn’t have a tube down his throat like his youngest son.

Taking Dean’s hand, John sighed and did something he hadn’t done in a very long time.l John Winchester prayed.

John sat at Dean’s side for hours, before he finally gave in to the urge to sleep. With both his son’s hurt and his own pain to deal with, John was exhausted. So when the urge to sleep became to strong, the hunter let himself fall into it, being careful to make sure he slept lightly incase anything happened.

That’s how Dean Winchester found his father hours later. Slumped over the side of the bed, with Dean’s hand held lightly in his own. Dean pulled his other hand to his chest, massaging the sore wounds through the gown and bandaging. Being careful not to wake his father, Dean looked around the room; in search of anything to tell him what had happened after the demon had begun its torture.

Keenly feeling the absence of his younger brother, Dean struggled to remember what had happened. He could see flashes of Sam being thrown around, and he could hear the cries of his younger brother. Panic began to build in him, as the images in his mind played through, and Dean shook his father awake, needing to know what had happened to Sam.

“Dean? Wha’?” John asked, as he snapped awake, mentally kicking himself for not being aware when Dean had first woken up.

“Where’s Sammy, Dad? What happened to him?” Looking into Dean’s eyes, John could see the panic building, and the broken edge to Dean’s voice, told John he needed to calm his oldest son, and he had to do it quickly before he hurt himself further.

“The Demon hurt Sam, Dean. He hurt Sammy real bad.” John waited for his words to sink in and when he was sure his oldest was giving him his full attention, John continued, “When he threw Sam into the wall, and through the door, Sam sustained major internal bleeding, and a severe concussion. His shin was also broken so badly, a metal plate and pins had to be placed in the bone to fix the damage.” John took a deep breath when he heard Dean stifle a choked sob.

“At the scene, Sam stopped breathing, and while they were able to get his heart started again, Sam’s still not breathing on his own. Also with the concussion Sam sustained, and the major trauma to his body, Sammy slipped into a coma during his surgery.” John finished and seeing the tears in Dean’s eyes, John turned away, knowing his oldest son, wouldn’t want him to see him crying.

“But he’s gonna be okay, right?” Dean’s voice was small, but John could hear it, and he could hear the despair it held.

“The doctors don’t know right now, and they won’t let anyone in to see him.” John saw the hit his words had on his son, and he added; “But you know Sammy, he’s stubborn as a mule, and you know he won’t let some little old demon take him down.” Dean nodded, and looked relieved, but John could see the shimmer of worry settled in the depths.

“Well… Since geekboy’s out of commission, when can I get outta here?” Dean asked, trying hard and failing to hide his fear with sarcasm. If John noticed he didn’t mention it.

“Well the doctors want to keep an eye on you for a little while to make sure you’re really okay, but other than that, you should be sprung in a few days.” Dean looked happy at the prospect that he wouldn’t have to stay that long, but the lingering worry stayed in his eyes.

“When did they say we could see Sammy?” He asked, hope shining clear in his tone.

“Well, the doctor said that even the common cold could cause severe damage, to Sammy’s already weakened immune system, so they won’t let us see him until his system is a little stronger.” Dean seemed to deflate at that, seeing the severity of his brother’s injuries.

“Why don’t you see if you can get some more sleep and I will go check on Sammy, see when we can get in to see him.” John said, and stood starting to walk out the door. He looked back to see Dean nod, and could already see his oldest son’s eyes drooping. Smirking John walked out the door.

John walked into the ICU ward of the building, afraid and excited at the same time. Excited that he was going to see his son; even if was through glass; and dreading the news the doctor would give him about Sam’s condition.

Walking over to the nurses desk, John prepared himself for the worst, while he hoped for the best. “Can I speak to Samuel Scott’s doctor?” John asked the petite nurse standing behind the desk. Said nurse flashed him a smile, holding up a finger, indicating for him to wait a moment, and then pointing to the phone she was holding.

“Okay, well you have a great day!” The nurse said enthusiastically, and John mentally sighed, wondering why he always got the perky, way too damn happy ones. “I’m sorry sir, what can I do for you?” She asked, in that same fake perky voice, that made John want to tear out her vocal cords.

“Can I talk to my son’s doctor?” John asked again, already annoyed with this girl he hadn’t known for more than five minutes.

“Name?” She asked, hunkering down in front of the computer, putting a game face on, as she was about to go ten rounds with Ali.

“Samuel Scott.” John answered, restraining himself from hurting her, it wouldn’t do for him to be thrown out before he got the information he wanted.

“Yep, right here!” Her perky voice came again, and John found himself twitching, at her tone. “It says here that Dr. Cook has been working his case. She should be working down the hall right now, but I can page her if you would like to speak with her.” She turned large eyes up at him, and John ground his teeth.

“Yes that would be nice, thank you.” John ground out, giving her a fake smile of his own, to get her off his case.

“Right away sir!” John groaned, as her voice got even higher, and he turned around as she dialed the hospital switchboard. “Hi, can I have Dr. Cook paged for ICU please?” John heard her ask, and felt relieved that he wouldn’t have to deal with her for much longer.

John walked away just as soon as she told him that the doctor would be with him as soon as she could. He walked to his youngest son’s room, placing his hand on the glass just as he had before, trying to retain any connection to Sam he could. Sam didn’t look any better than he had the last time John had gone to visit him, and worry sparked brighter in John.

He watched his son for a little while, half waiting for the doctor to show up and half just needing to be as close as possible to his youngest. Just as he heard the echoing footsteps coming down the hall, a shrill beep sounded throughout the ward as Sam coded.

John’s heart stopped as he heard the heart monitor tell him that Sam’s heart wasn’t beating. A flurry of motion started around him, as everyone ran around him, to get to Sam. John watched as the ventilator was unhooked from the tracheal tube down Sam’s throat and a translucent blue bag was attached to the end of the tube.

The doctors began CPR to try and restart Sam’s heart, one of them pushing on his chest, while the other fisted the bag to get Sam air. This routine went on for a few minutes, but after two minutes, with no response, one of the doctors called for the defibrillator that had been brought in the room.

“Charge to 250,” one of the men called, and after placing pads on Sam’s chest, he called; “Clear!” Sam’s body jerked as the electricity raced through it.

The doctor pulled the paddles away, and while looking at the heart monitor’s flat line, he pressed his fingers to Sam’s neck, after a second he pulled away, and shook his head saying, “Still no beat, charge to 300.” The man at the defibrillator nodded that it was ready, and the doctor again said; “clear,” while placing the paddles against Sam’s chest once more.

Sam’s body jerked again as the electricity shot through him, but this time, the monitor showed that Sam’s heart was beating once more. John and the doctors all sighed in relief as the youngest Winchester’s heart beat once more.

John turned and leaned his back against the glass, dropping his head into his hands, an unexpected sheen of tears lining his old eyes. After a few moments John raked his hands through his hair, and looked up, to find himself face to face with one of the doctors that had been in the room with Sam.

Startled by the man’s presence, and how sneaky he had been to creep up on the experienced hunter, John jumped. The man smiled at him, and held out his hand, “Hi, I’m Dr. Jared Cook.” John looked at the man’s hand, then he warily took it, watching the doctor’s every move.

“John Scott.” John answered gruffly, letting the man’s hand go.

“Well Mr. Scott, I’ve been treating Sam since he came in, and till now, when his heart gave out for a few minutes, it seemed as if he had been improving. Even now, it seems that his health and immune system are improving, despite the fact that his heart just stopped, Sam’s vitals are still improving.” The doctor let John have a minute to absorb the information.

“So you’re saying that even though Sam just ‘died,’ he’s getting better?” John asked disbelievingly.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. There is no way to explain it, other than saying it’s a miracle. But despite the little setback just a minute ago, Sam is doing a lot better than expected.” Dr. Cook looked John straight in the eye as he talked letting John know he was telling the complete truth, that Sammy, though his heart had just stopped was getting better.

“When can I see him?” John asked, taking the man at his word.

“Well if Sam keeps improving, you may be able to see him by tomorrow.” John nodded, a smile pulling at his mouth.

“Thank you Dr. Cook.” John said, really meaning it. ‘Thank you for saving my son.’

“Your welcome, and call me Jared by the way, Dr. Cook makes me seem way too old and stuffy.” When John nodded, Jared added, “If you need anything just have the nurse page me, and I will get back to you as soon as I can.” John nodded again, and the doctor smiled, turning away.

John turned back to look at Sam, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw a familiar blond face staring back at him. ‘Mary?’ His lips moved but no sound came from them. The spirit came at him, and just as it floated past him whispered words floated to him.

“Take care of my boy John, both my boys.” Then she was gone, and John nodded, if only to himself, the knowledge already wrapping itself around his heart. Mary had saved Sam, now it was his turn, to make sure that Sam stayed ‘saved.’

John stayed at Sam’s window for a while longer, until the image of his son laying so still on the bed became too much for him. He really wanted to spend time just sitting with Sam, touching him, making sure he was still there, not standing behind a plate of glass, making himself feel so useless as he stared at his broken son. He wanted to help Sam fight, wanted Dean to be there, to help Sam fight.

John turned around and headed back to see Dean.

As soon as John placed one foot in the room, Dean was alert and reaching for the knife that was always beneath his pillow, except this time it wasn’t there, and Dean’s hand came up empty. He looked confused for a moment, before looking up at the doorway and seeing his father there, then remembering what had happened with the demon, and the fact that he was in the hospital.

Sammy? It was the first thing that came to his mind, as it always did. Sammy was his priority and he had to make sure he was okay.

“Sam?” He asked, and John smiled, really appreciating the bond his sons had with each other.

“He’s better.” John said, hoping it was enough to placate Dean, but of course Dean wasn’t satisfied and his expression told John just that, so he continued. “Well his heart stopped while I was there, but his doctor got it started again, thanks to Mary,” John paused, watching as Dean’s eyes widened, and he nodded. “The doctor said Sam was still improving, even though his heart let out.”

“When can we see him?” Dean asked, accepting what his father told him.

“Well his doctor said that if he kept improving, we might be able to see him as early as tomorrow.” John answered, and watched as Dean’s eyes lit up.

“Really?” Dean asked, wanting to believe what his father told him, but not wanting to let his hopes get to high without proof.

“That’s what his doctor told me, and he said if we had any questions, that we could just page him, so I think it’s a safe bet that we can believe him.” John said, and Dean smiled.

John pushed Dean down the hall towards Sam’s room. They had gotten the okay from Sam’s doctor to see him this morning, with the stipulation from Dean’s doctor that Dean stay in the wheel chair, and try not to overtax himself. Dean had readily agreed, as long as it got him to his brother’s side.

So now John and Dean were both on their way to Sam’s room, both quietly anxious, and afraid of what would happen when they entered the room. Both were allowed to be in the room at the same time, since Dean himself was still a patient, and the fact that Dr. Cook had thought it would be good for Sam to be near his family.

John pushed Sam’s door open, and wheeled Dean through the doorway, trying not to look at his youngest son, until he got Dean settled. Seeing Dean‘s face lose some of it‘s color, John knew he had done the right thing by not looking. He pushed Dean to Sam’s left side, and locked the side of the wheelchair, so Dean wouldn’t take any unexpected trips backwards. He walked over to Sam’s right side, and pulled a chair over to his side.

When he sat down, John finally looked at Sam. There was a little more color in Sam’s features, and John felt relieved at that little improvement. His blood pressure and heart beat looked stable, and though the ventilator was still helping Sam breathe, his youngest did look like he was doing better, and John smiled a little, taking Sam’s lax hand in his own, needing to feel him there.

Dean wasn’t faring as well as his father. Having not seen Sam since the cabin, Dean didn’t notice the little improvements that his father did, all he saw was Sam unconscious on the bed, with a tube down his throat to help him breathe, and hooked up to so many monitors it wasn’t funny. All he saw was the paleness in Sam’s face, and all he felt was the way that Sam’s hand was limp in his own.

Dean unconsciously held his brother’s hand tighter, and pulled it to his heart, whispering to himself and to Sam. Words of encouragement and apology left Dean’s mouth in a repeating cycle. Words for both himself and for Sam.

“Sorry I wasn’t there to help you little brother, I’m so sorry I broke my promise.”

“C’mon Sammy, you’re gonna get better. All you need is a little rest and some time to heal up, and you’ll be just fine.”

John saw his oldest son’s distress, and though he wanted to help Dean and comfort him, his own inadequacies were being cruelly thrown back in face. His own words added to the mantra of Dean’s.

“Shouldn’t have pushed you. The last thing I did was tell you to kill me.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect you son, I shouldn’t have let that bastard hurt you. It’s my fault you’re lying there, if I had taken the demon out when he was possessing me, then you would never be in this mess.”

Sam felt like he was floating in the darkness that overtook his mind. He couldn’t remember exactly what had happened to bring him here…Why couldn’t he remember?… but he knew that whatever it was wasn’t good. Sam just knew if he pushed the darkness away, he would be left feeling the full brunt of the pain he must have been in, rather than feeling the dull throb he could now.

He could here voices around him, talking to him maybe, and he wanted to go towards the voices, but at the same time, he didn’t want to feel the pain that would inevitably accompany consciousness.

The pull to go towards the voices became stronger when he could hear the worry, and the sorrow those voices held.

Dean felt Sam’s hand tense in his own, and he his head immediately shot to Sam’s face. He saw his father shoot him a look, and he said, “I think he’s waking up, Dad; he just squeezed my hand.”

John looked at Dean, and then to Sam, looking for any indication that Dean was right. As if on cue, Sam stirred on the bed. Stirring, Sam crinkled his face as he felt the pain he had been expecting, though more muted than he would have thought.

Sam started to panic when he tried to breathe, and found that he couldn’t. Something was in his throat, and he choked, trying to get whatever it was out. He tried to reach for it, but found both of his hands being firmly held down.

Sam opened his eyes, and looked around, choking and gasping as the tube down his throat didn’t let him breathe. Sam could see Dean and his father on either side of him, Dean in a wheelchair, and his father standing over him. Dean was yelling for help as he saw Sam choke, while his father tried to calm him down.

“Sammy, it’s okay son. The tube is there to help you. Just calm down, and let it do its job.” Sam stopped choking, but fear still shone in his eyes at the sensation of not being able to breathe. Both Dean and his father’s reassurances made it easier to handle, but Sam wasn’t used to not being in control of such simple functions in his body, and though he tried to calm down, gasps and tremors shook his body and the tube jutting out of his mouth.

Dean was running his hand through Sam’s hair, something that had become habit when they were children, and Sam had been afraid. The action still seemed to calm and help his brother, and Dean was willing to do whatever it took to help Sammy.

Jared Cook and three nurses came running to Sam’s door when they heard Dean’s cries for help. When they saw Sam’s eyes open, and both his father and brother trying to calm him, they immediately went to help. Jared walked over to Sam, and said; “We’re going to give you a mild sedative to keep you calm. The tube has to stay in for a little while longer, to help take stress off your lungs, and the rest of your body.

Sam looked to Dean, and then to his father, and gave the smallest of nods, to let the doctor know it was okay. Dean squeezed Sam’s hand, and didn’t loosen his grip, until the sedative had taken effect, and Sam was too out of it to care that there was a tube down his throat.

John talked with Jared a while longer just outside Sam‘s door, the doctor still not able to believe Sam’s recovery. It was nothing more than a miracle, but it was a miracle that every doctor and nurse in the ICU was thankful for. Dealing with Dean and John if Sam had died would have been a nightmare, so every employee in the ICU was glad to still have the buffer between them and the Winchesters.

Jared left a while later after making sure that everything was still good with Sam, leaving the small family alone. When Dean’s doctor came in and told them that Dean needed to go back to his room to get some rest, Dean fought tooth and nail against her until she told him that she wouldn’t allow him to see Sam unless he went back with her now.

John wanted to snap at the doctor. Couldn’t she see that his sons needed each other, now more than ever? But he could also see the reasoning behind the doctor’s actions, and knew that Dean did need his rest, that he was still recovering from his own run in with the demon, so he let Dean’s doctor take him back to his room, hearing the, ‘But Dad’s,’ and ‘You are so going to pay for this,’ John knew he would be getting an earful later from Dean.

John just wanted both his son’s to get better, and if that meant getting a lecture from his son, then he would just have to take it.

Three Weeks Later:

It took two days for Sam to be taken off the ventilator, though he still had a nasal canula stuck under his nose to help him breathe. There was another three day wait for Sam to be able to lift himself up without Dean or his father’s aid. One more day and Sam was ready to be moved to a room in PCU.

Finally, three weeks after Sam had woken up, his doctor had given in to the thought of letting him out of the hospital. So after recovering for three and a half weeks after Sam had first arrived at the hospital, he was being given his walking papers.

The only stipulations Sam was given to be let out of the hospital were, he would have to take it easy for some time, he was to use the crutches for five weeks, and then go to a hospital or treatment center to receive physical therapy after the cast was removed. Other than that, the doctor said Sam was fine to go, and Sam was never happier to get out of a place in his life.

Sam got dressed slowly, struggling to get his pants over the cast that ran from just below his knees to three quarters down his foot. He buttoned up his shirt, and grabbed for his boot, but after trying for five minutes, he called his father in to help him get his boot on and tied, a blush lining his cheeks.

"It’s okay to need help Sam, especially after being in the hospital for close to a month. It will take a while to get used to, just give it time." Sam nodded, still embarrassed that he needed help to get a boot on, and glad that Dean hadn’t been the one outside the door when he called; his brother never would have let him live it down.

A few minutes later, a wheelchair was brought in, and after Sam glared at it and the same preppy nurse he had in ICU, he hobbled over and got into it. But when the nurse went to push him down the hall, he growled at her, and his father laughed, telling the nurse that he could get Sam out of the hospital just fine, if she wanted to leave.

That had been one of the things John and Sam had agreed on while he had been in the hospital. The preppy nurse was a nuisance to both of them, and neither of them would put up with her and her squeaky voice for any longer than they had to. When Sam had been moved to PCU both had been relieved, that they wouldn’t have to see her any longer.

Dean had been the odd man out, he thought the nurse was cute, and loved that she could be so happy from day to day. John and Sam had kicked him out of the room when he had reprimanded them for being so mean to her. Having been properly cowed, Dean hadn’t said another word about the nurse, and for that both Sam and John had been happy.

Dean walked into the room, eying the petite nurse in front of him the whole time. As she finished with Sam’s vitals, and was walking out of the room, Dean winked at her, eliciting a deep blush from her.

Dean turned around to see Sam and his father glaring at him, and was at once confused. “What?” He asked, the confusion he was feeling, evident in his voice.

“How can you stand her?” Sam asked, while his father just shook his head and added, “Don’t encourage her, Dean.” Dean’s brow wrinkled in response, not seeing why the two men didn’t like the nurse.

“But dude, she’s hot; and you can’t help but like her attitude.” Still confused, Dean just about jumped when Sam growled at him.’

“OUT!” Sam yelled.

“But Sam-” Dean started.

“Don’t you but Sam me, get out! And when you come back you better have a change in attitude. There is no way for anyone to like someone that…chirpy!” Sam ground out, and Dean turned around and left, feeling both the youngest and oldest’ Winchester’s glares on his back.

chirpy

That had been two weeks ago, and they hadn’t had a problem with the nurse or Dean since then…

It seemed though, that the nurse had been floated from the ICU to PCU for her shift that day, and Sam had the luck to get her as his nurse. When she had first walked in the room to see Sam there, she had paled and done her work as fast as was possible, and then she had hightailed it out of the room, Sam glaring at her the whole time.

Dean pulled the Impala to the cul-de-sac like curb outside the hospital entrance and walked through the doors, a smile quirking at his lips the whole time. Sam was getting out of the hospital, and he couldn’t have been happier. Sam was finally well enough to be let out, and for that fact Dean was relieved.

Dean walked towards his brothers room, meeting his father pushing a glowering Sam half way. He smirked when he saw the look on his little brother’s face, about the fact that he had to be pushed in a wheel chair.

"What’s the matter Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice condescending, and Sam growled low in his throat. Dean smirked at Sam’s reaction, just knowing that Sam didn’t like having to give up control, or show weakness, and the wheelchair was symbolic of both.

"You really wanna find out?" Sam asked, his tone low.

"You PMS’ing or something little brother?" Dean turned away when he saw the nurse from the ICU, and Sam lifted a crutch and whacked him in the stomach with it, effectively capturing Dean’s attention, and shutting his brother up.

When they neared the door, Dean walked a little faster, getting out the door before Sam and their father, to open the door to the Impala. Sam stood from the wheelchair with his father’s help and hobbled on the crutches to the car, sliding gratefully into the front seat.

John watched his youngest with pride, and a small smile adorned his lips. "I’ll follow you two with the truck to the hotel." Dean and Sam nodded, Dean walking around the car to get in the driver’s side.

As they drove away from the hospital, Dean looked over to Sam, to see his brother leaning his head against the glass, his eyes closed. He couldn’t help but feel relief and happiness at having his brother back where he belonged.

After having Sam be out of commission for a month, with the passenger’s side seat empty… Dean was just glad that Sammy was back with him, where he should always be.

Right beside him…