Just a bit of a tag/missing scene to faith. Sam in the hotel before Dean staggered in, and how he found out about our favorite 'specialist'. Don't own anything. R&R.
"Of Habit and Hope"
Stress and dreariness showed themselves in Sam's taut expression; his lips pursed to omit the stream of words that may have flowed out into the hotel room otherwise. By habit he had asked for a two double beds at check-in, which had eventually proved useful because, although it was unoccupied by the elder Winchester brother, the second bed now held home to the several stacks of paper and books Sam had acquired over the previous three days that Dean had spent in that god forsaken hospital.
The time that passed between their last road trip, their typical bickering and teasing, and now seemed as if it were far more than just four days ago. The three days, maybe, that Sam had spent scouring the internet since his brother's accident, would be believable, because Dean was already sick. But the time between him telling Sam about the thousand volt taser and now had to be much, much longer than that.
The youngest couldn't even remember the last time he'd eaten, let alone slept, but his tiredness had been overruled by the urgency to get help for Dean before it was too late. He had been on hundreds, if not thousands of websites, searching for the information he needed; favoring those few sites that supported his move, against those who did not—because the dead should stay dead and the dying should stay dying—Dean had said that himself over the years. But it wasn't true, couldn't possibly be. New feelings of guilt arose in Sam, because maybe, just maybe if he hadn't gone to college, spent those wasted years with Dean instead of rifling through old library books, they wouldn't be in this mess. And that was why he had to find an answer, because, somehow, this was his fault. He should've taken the gun, gone after the raw head himself, and let Dean take the kids back to safety, it wouldn't have matter so much then because he'd be the one dying, not Dean.
He jumped, brought back to reality as his phone began to ring. And, possibly for the first time since he was a kid, he laughed when Jessica Simpson's "I Think I'm in Love" blurted out from his speakers—Dean had evidently changed his ringtone. Again. A quick glance at the screen before he answered told him that Joshua was calling him back, and he suddenly felt a weight lift from his shoulders—after all, the older hunter had promised to do some research for him, said he'd call Sam back if he found something.
"Joshua," Sam was glad to have silenced his new ringtone.
"Sam, I've found something for you—a way to fix Dean up. There's a faith healer, Roy Le Grange, up in Nebraska. He can help you, but you gotta listen to me. He's trading—" Click.
Sam cursed, the line dropping dead—but he'd at least gotten his answer. Even if the rest of Joshua's words had held a warning to him, Sam didn't care—that was just something he would have to live with.