This is another one of those "Let's fix canon" AU stories for Season 8 Episode 1. Like, most, I hated that Sam never looked for Dean. So in this Alternative Universe story of mine, I gave Sam a really good reason why he didn't. This is going to be a two-part story and I'll probably add other stories to follow along with this universe later on. I hope you enjoy it.

All Heart

When Dean arrived at the cabin, he was a little disappointed to see no Impala parked out front. He had just stepped back into their world forty hours ago and the only thing he had on his mind was finding his brother.

Being gone for the past thirteen months fighting for his life against every damn beast imaginable, Sam had been the thing keeping him going every day. Well, that and finding out what the hell was going on with Cas, but that situation was branded with its own special kind of crazy and he wasn't even going to think about that right now.

After following through on his deal with Benny, Dean had said his goodbyes and then stole the first burner phone he could find. He sent Sam a coded message with coordinates for the cabin. Then he sent the same message to any other number he could think of that would find its way to Sam. Sam's spare phones, Dean's own phones, glove box phones and even Bobby's phone that the man had on him when he'd gotten shot in the head. One of the messages would reach Sam. He had been certain of it.

Ditching the burner, Dean had hot-wired a car and set off for Montana.

Pushing open the door to the cabin, he called out for his brother, and even though he knew silence would be the only thing responding to his call, he still felt another pang of disappointment. That's okay though, Sam was on his way. Dean knew he was.

Looking around, Dean smiled as memories sprang up within his mind. Memories of him, Sam and Bobby, mostly. Other memories tried to edge their way into the mix. Sad ones. Ones of the days after Bobby had died, when it had been just him and Sam. They'd been so lost after the death of another parent.

Shaking his head, Dean cast the thoughts away and went over to the kitchen sink. He pulled out a few things from beneath it and set them on the table. Then he went back to the sink and turned on the hot water faucet as far as it would go.

Looking out the window, he grabbed the bar of soap and started scrubbing away as much of the muck and grime from that awful place as he could. He watched the thick lather spread across his arms and concentrated on the sight and smell of it, using his senses to keep himself in the present and far away from some of the darker and just completely fucked up memories of Purgatory. Cupping his palms under the steaming flow of water, he rinsed off the lather, wincing as the cuts burned and stung.

He was scrubbing a towel over his face when he heard Baby pull in. She sat and idled for a few seconds. Listening to her engine, his heart started purring right along with her. The engine cut off and Dean went to the window. Taking a peek outside, he grinned and then grabbed the few things he'd set out on the table.

The door opened, and then Dean pounced, tackling the familiar body to the ground with an arsenal of security checks. Sam bitched and sputtered through them all. But, he passed the test. He was his Sam. Not a shifter, not a demon, and he wasn't a leviathan either. Sam was trying to talk to him and, stubborn as always, refused to do the checks on Dean. Fine. Dean was all too happy to do it for him. Formalities out of the way, Dean pulled his baby brother off the floor, then grabbed him and drew him in for a crushing bear hug.

Sam seemed stunned at first, but then his arms wrapped around him and squeezed. Dean increased his hold and squeezed right back. He dragged out the hug for a few more seconds and then held Sam out at arm's length to have a look at him. He looked tired and worn ragged and a little thinner, but Dean could tell you that's what happens when your bother disappears, and you've got to pull out all your tricks and scour the earth to find a way to get him back. Because that's what they do for each other.

"Dean…" Running his hands through his hair, Sam had grinned, looking at him like he was a mirage. Finally, he said, "You made it back."

"Yeah," Dean matched Sam's grin and then pulled out couple beers from the fridge. Popping the top, he handed one to Sam, but he declined, and that seemed a little strange. There was something playing on his brother's face that Dean couldn't place. Taking a seat at the table, he brushed it aside, figuring they'd get around to it. Taking a drink from his beer, he asked, "So, tell me. Where'd you start?"

Sam looked at him a little distracted, "Start?"

"Yeah," Dean smiled. "Looking for me. You couldn't get to me, I know, but I'm curious what you dug up. Where'd you start?"

"Dean, uh," Sam hesitated, and the look Dean couldn't place earlier manifested in its entirety and Dean's gut churned a little even as he was telling himself he was wrong. But, Dean knew his brother. Knew him better than anyone else did—might know him better than Dean knew himself. And the look on Sam's face spoke of guilt and shame.

"Sam?" Dean asked, really hoping they weren't going down the road he thought they were headed.

"Dean, look… I need to talk to you about that."

"You didn't look for me?"

"Um, okay… it's not as simple as that."

Disappointment and disbelief battled it out in his heart over what he was hearing. It was all adding up to one shitty fucking answer. Sam didn't look for him? What the fucking hell.

Getting to his feet, he replied, "The hell it's not. Did you look for me or not?"

"Dean, please. I'm trying to tell you—"

"It's a yes or no question, Sam."

Sam's breathing kicked up a notch as he held out his hand, "It's not…, Dean, please. Listen to me."

Raising his voice, Dean ordered, "Answer the question, Sam."

Sam flinched, closing his eyes at the sound of his voice, saying, "I'm trying."

"No, Sam, you're not." Dean slammed his beer down and stood across the table from his brother. "You're beating around the bush—"

"I'm trying to—"

"You didn't fucking, look. Did you?"

"Dean—" Sam pulled a face that wouldn't register with Dean as a wince until much later. His brother's palms hit the tabletop and he leaned against it. And maybe if Dean's nerves weren't shot from playing the ultimate survival game for the last 13 months, he'd been able to tell that something was definitely wrong with his brother. But he wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders. He was beyond exhausted, he's got the low blood sugar shakes, and his heart was fucking breaking over what he was hearing. Slamming his fists on the table he shouted, "Did you look for me!"

It took Sam clutching his chest for Dean to finally snap out of his anger and clue into the fact that his brother was in trouble. Standing there in stunned silence, he watched Sam sink down to an elbow with a strangled gasp and then he was on the floor.

Dean's feet might as well have been encased in plaster. He saw Sam drop down to the floor and for a second, he couldn't move. His brother was just standing before him. All eight feet of him. Standing there and talking to him and looked fine. His mind reminded him of earlier when he noticed Sam looking a little tired and run down, but people who were tired and run down didn't normally just wilt and drop like that.

His shocked brain caught up to everything going on and then he was rounding the table. It took him two steps to get to Sam and he dropped to his side. Knees hitting the floor with a jolt, Dean took his brother's head in his hands, "Sam! What's going on?" Sam didn't answer. Still clutching his chest, he was twisting his shirt in his fist while cringing and wheezing and scaring the living shit out of Dean.

He had no clue what was going on with his brother, but he was certain it was a very bad, bad thing when someone clutched at their chest like that. Factor in how pale Sam had gotten in the last few seconds and how he'd managed to break out into a sweat in the time it took Dean to get to him, Dean was in full freak-out mode on the inside. On the outside, he remained calm and in control. "Easy, Sam; take it easy," he soothed when the wheezing got worse. "Hey." Dean tapped his brother's face, "Hey. Talk to me or I'm dragging your heavy ass to the nearest hospital."

Squeezing his eyes closed, Sam puffed through a few weak breaths, and then looked at him, saying, "It's okay," He dragged in a ragged breath and showing Dean his wrist, he said, "They're coming."

Dean grabbed the proffered arm. He was confused when he looked at the simple, black nylon bracelet on his brother's wrist. Dean gave him a quick once-over, "Who's coming, Sammy?"

"The car..." Sam's voice was becoming brittle and his words had dropped out over that last bit.

Dean leaned in closer to hear, "What about the car, Sam?"

Sam took a couple of deep breaths, sounding like he'd just run five miles. He looked at Dean and whispered, "O...2," then Sam closed his eyes and didn't open them again. Cursing, Dean reached for his brother's pulse.

"Mr. Winchester?"

The black wristband spoke, and Dean almost dropped his brother's arm from the surprise of it. Turning Sam's wrist, he took a closer look at it and wondered if sleep deprivation was finally tipping him into insanity. Then, he noticed the inside of the wristband had a slim plate, like the face of a watch, but it was shiny and black. Looking closer, Dean noticed a pulsing tiny blue light. Then, the wristband spoke again.

"Mr. Winchester, can you hear me?" Dean didn't speak. He didn't even breathe, almost feeling like he was going to get caught at something if he did. "Mr. Winchester, if you can hear me, hang on. I have EMS en route."

EMS? Dean frowned down at the wristband. He felt ridiculous, but he didn't like what his brother's pulse was telling him and, he leaned down to talk at Sam's wrist, "Hey... hello?"

"Mr. Winchester?"

"Uh, no—well, yeah—but not the one you're looking for. I'm Sam's brother. Look, what's going on with him?"

There was a pause and then the wristband said, "I'm sorry. I'm not at liberty to release that information. Can you tell me if your brother is awake?"

Dean brushed the hair away from Sam's face, "No. We were standing here taking—arguing—and then he was on the floor."

"Okay, that's okay. Just stay with him. Help is on the way. Was he able to start oxygen therapy before he lost consciousness?"

"Oxygen...?" Then the pieces snapped together. Dean looked down at his brother and then he was scrambling to his feet.

Tearing open the cabin's front door, he jumped the stairs and sprinted down the short path to the Impala. Dozens of questions were screaming through his mind. Why did Sam collapse? Why does he carry oxygen with him? How long has this been going on? Why does a stranger on the other side of a nylon wristband know more about his brother than he did? Dean didn't have any of the answers and he wasn't going to be getting any in the immediate future. He needed to let go of all the questions and just roll with it for now. Sam was sick. Sam was very sick. Get Sam to the hospital. Answers will have to come later.

Dean threw open the driver door. He ducked inside and searched the front seat. Diving in further, he looked on the floor, then he perched over the seat and looked into the back. He couldn't find anything that looked like... wait. He backed out of the front seat and yanked open the rear door.

That had to be it.

Lying on the floor behind the driver's seat was a small black backpack. At a glance, it looked like an ordinary pack. Nothing like what he had expected to find. He'd been looking for one of those portable oxygen canisters. As a matter of fact, he would have overlooked the backpack completely, if it hadn't been for the clear tubing peeking out from the side. To be sure, Dean took a look inside the main compartment and then he grabbed it and jumped back out of the car. He didn't even close the back door before making a b-line for the cabin.

"...llo? Mr. Winchester, are you still there?"

Sam's wristband had been talking to itself when he came bursting back into the room. Hitting his knees beside his brother again, he looked at the settings on the portable oxygen unit in the backpack and was relieved to see there very few buttons to choose from. He pressed the power button and then a faint hiss came from the tubing in his hand. Upping the airflow, he slipped the cannula into place and draped it behind Sam's ears. Gently cinching it a little tighter under his jaw, Dean frowned down at his brother and again reached for his pulse.

"Mr. Winchester?"

Dean threw a glance at Sam's wrist, "I'm here. I'm getting Sam on the O2 now." Dean leaned down and made a slight adjustment to the tubing at Sam's nose. His breathing hitched and Dean pressed his free hand to his brother's forehead. Without knowing what was going on with him made Dean powerless to help. The best he could do at that moment was monitor his vitals and try to offer what comfort he could. Dean knew how tight the HIPPA laws were. There would be no point in trying to coerce information from the person behind the wristband—whoever it was...

"Hey, who is this? What service is this?"

"My name is John and I'm a dispatcher for Life Guardian Monitoring."

So, Sam was basically wearing Life Alert. His brother was sick enough to actually employ the service of a company that could call an ambulance for him if he was unable, and Dean realized this must have happened before. Maybe more than once. How many times did Sam go through an episode like this when he was on his own. How bad did it get before Sam decided he needed help getting help?

The gentle thrumming beneath his fingertips changed. Adjusting his hold, Dean took a fresh reading. "Hey, um, his pulse isn't the greatest."

"I see that on my end. The bracelet your brother is wearing sends me readings on his vitals. Are you a medical professional, Mr. Winchester?"

"No, not really. Just field medic training."

"Okay. Just stay with him. Keep talking to him. Paramedics are almost there."

"How long?"

"ETA is under 10 minutes."

"His pulse is getting erratic."

"I'm seeing that. Do you know CPR?"

He broke out in a cold sweat at the question. Straight-up naked fear soaked up all the moisture from his mouth and he has to swallow before answering, "Yes."

"Okay. That's good." John responded calmly. "Do nothing as long as a pulse is present."

Dean nodded. He leaned in close and felt Sam's faint exhale on his cheek. He ran a hand through his brother's hair, telling him he was there with him. He made promises of getting him to help and told him he wasn't going to let anything happen to him. Leaning in again to feel for his brother's breath on his face, Dean was about to ask about Sam's oxygen levels, but then he lost the pulse in the wrist. "Sam..." Dean called out, fighting hard against the panic trying to surface and pressed his fingers against his brother's neck, "Sammy!"

"I show VFib on my end. Do you have a pulse?"

"No," Dean answered spreading Sam's jacket wide open.

"Counting down ten seconds… begin compressions now."

"I am," Dean grunted as he pressed the heel of his hand down on the center of his brother's chest and interlocked his fingers. He knew the trick of timing his compressions to the beat of Another One Bites the Dust or Stayin' Alive to keep him pumping Sam's heart at 100 beats per minute. He passed on his first option and started muttering the words to Stayin' Alive. He got to thirty and forced to breaths into Sam's mouth and then started compressions again. Humming and pumping and breathing, Sam's wrist was talking to him and telling him he was updating the EMS and how far away they were.

After a short eternity, Dean heard a vehicle in the drive and then someone ran up the porch steps and a dude showed up in the doorway, He and Dean exchange a glance and then he hurried to Sam's side. He looked closely at Dean asking, "Can you keep going for another minute?"

Looking at his brother, then back at the medic, he nodded and grunted, "I got him."

The medic went to work tearing open packages and then another guy was rushing in. Neither of them asks any questions and that seemed odd, but then Dean remembered John saying he was keeping them updated.

A few other guys dressed in blue with FIRE DEPT in red letters across their t-shirts came striding in. The first medic looked up and told someone to go grab the board while the other medic tears open a facemask and attached it to an amub bag. He pulled the cannula away from under Sam's nose and started bagging him. His partner worked around Dean's compressions, tugging up Sam's shirt and sticking pads to his chest and side. He got a portable defibrillator ready and watching the display, told Dean, "Okay, man, gotta pull back now."

The medic pulled Dean by the arms and letting him pull his hands away from his brother was terrifying and relief all in one big, fat emotional truckload. Dean held his breath. His eyes skipped between the display and Sam. The other medic squeezed the bag again and Dean was about to ask what they're waiting for when the machine whined long and loud. The medic giving Sam oxygen pulled back and then the whining stopped and Sam was given a jolt of electricity.

Sam's heart stopped fluttering uselessly and the display showed a flat line for a terrifying three seconds and then a decent rhythm started scrolling across the small screen. Okay, his heart rate was faster than it should be, but it was a good rhythm considering it was just a bunch of wavy lines a second ago. And that was it. No dramatic shouts of raising the current or calling clear. One jolt was all it took.

Breath sounds were verified and the amub bag got swapped out for an oxygen mask and the backboard was laid beside them. Sam actually moved, and that surprised the hell out of Dean. No way he expected him to come around so quickly. And, in all fairness, he hadn't woken up, exactly. But Sam was moving his head and when the medic started shouting at him, he scowled. It wasn't a perfectly alert response but it was an appropriate reaction. It was the most beautiful thing he'd seen all day.

Dean fell back onto his rear, feeling slightly detached as he watched the medics and firemen get Sam situated and strapped down to the backboard. Riding out an adrenaline crash, he wiped a shaky hand across his brow as they packed up. The AED display was still registering Sam's heartbeat as the paramedic set the unit between Sam's legs. On three, the medics and a couple firemen lifted the board with care and started taking Sam out of the cabin. Dean jumped to his feet, maybe a little too quickly because he stumbled to the side and his arm got grabbed by one of the other firemen.

"You okay, son?"

Dean closed his eyes and nodded as he waited for the dizziness to pass. "Yeah. Just got up too quick." The guy was looking closely at him and Dean gave him a smirk. He forced his Jello legs to take him outside just in time to see the guys placing the backboard holding his brother on top of the stretcher and then Sam was getting slid inside the ambulance.

He knew he wouldn't be able to ride with Sam, so he headed for the car. He saw the back door standing open and went to close it when he realized he didn't have the keys. "Hey!" He shouted at the medic as he was getting ready to close the back door. Dean ran the short distance and told the guy, "Hey, my brother's got my car keys on him." He got the okay and hopped up into the rig.

Ducking a little, Dean walked up on Sam and shot him a glance. Sam's eyes were closed, and he was breathing. It was going to be like ripping off an arm when he had to tear himself away from his brother's side. He made that a little easier to do by telling himself the longer he delayed them, the longer he was keeping Sam from treatment. And from the looks of it, it was going to be some serious life-saving treatment.

Padding down Sam's pockets, he found the keys. He started digging a couple fingers in to retrieve them when Sam moved, and then looked at him. Dean froze, then he smiled and said, "Hey, Sammy." He pulled the keys out of his brother's pocket and Sam grabbed his arm.

"Sam," Dean leaned over him, "You gotta let me go, dude, so they can get you out of here." His brother shook his head and his lips moved under the oxygen mask. Dean glanced at the medic and got the go-ahead, and in his head, Dean was telling himself the guy was letting him get in this moment because Sam was doing well enough, and not at all because it might be the last thing he got to say to him.

Dean took a quick knee beside his brother and his cheek brushed against Sam's as he leaned in close to listen. The paramedic pulled the mask away from Sam's face and his brother's words were soft and breathy and so fucking desperate that, when he'd said them, they'd sliced him right through his damn heart.

Dean sat up and looked at him and forced a smile onto his face. He patted his brother's cheek, saying, "It's okay, Sammy. I know. Okay? I know; I do." He patted his cheek again, telling him, "I'll be right behind you. Okay?"

Sam nodded, and Dean had to force himself to pull his arm from Sam's grasp. He shot the medic a look and then jumped out of the back. He was told, "We're taking him to St. Mary's," then the doors shut and the rig started down the driveway.

Sprinting to the Impala, Dean slammed the back door shut, slid in behind the wheel and cranked his car to life. Swinging it around in a cloud of dust, her tires chewed up gravel and spit it out the other side as he caught up to the ambulance. It was just pulling out on the road when the lights and then the sirens started up and he didn't even look to see if the way was clear as he butted up Baby's nose to within inches of the rig's rear bumper and pulled out right after it.

Gripping the steering wheel, the last fourteen minutes played out in his head in rapid, choppy sequences. He couldn't stop seeing himself standing there laying into his brother and the look on Sam's face right before he'd grabbed his chest. He'd been trying to get Dean to calm down. He realized that now. Sam had tried to get him to calm down. His mind replayed Sam dropping to the floor and then the last words he heard his brother say to him floated through his mind.

"I tried. I couldn't… I never forgot."

TBC