A/N: We just had a massive snowstorm here and I couldn't resist another blizzard fic, although this one has a bit less to do with the snow. This takes place after 10x11, There's No Place Like Home, and is also a sequel to my other blizzard fic, Lessons From Nemo. If you've never read that one, it's not really necessary but I'd love it if you took a look ;) This fic does again reference a Disney movie but the title is twofold. It not only comes from a song in that movie but also from a line in a song by Bastille called The Weight Of Living Part I. I do hope you enjoy reading and that you will take the time to review.

Let It Go

There's an albatross around your neck,
All the things you've said,
and the things you've done,
Can you carry it with no regrets,
Can you stand the person you've become..

Your Albatross, let it go, let it go-Bastille

Sam Winchester watched as his brother picked at the food on his plate. He had one elbow up on the table, his cheek propped on his fist. He still sported the remnants of the bruising on his face that he had obtained in his fight with Charlie, even though over a week had passed.

They had both been cooped up in the bunker, as Dean had refused to go out or take on any hunts. They diligently researched the mark to see if they could find anything on it, going over everything and then going over it again to see if there was something they'd missed. They hadn't heard from Charlie about the book yet so they were going it alone. Truthfully Sam didn't mind this. He had meant what he said and would do anything to save Dean. He felt he owed it to him.

It pained Sam to see his brother this way, so quiet and withdrawn. He was still on his "detox," obediently drinking green shakes every morning and had become pretty skilled at cooking healthy options for everything. However, even some of the concoctions Dean created made Sam's stomach roll. It was as if his brother thought eating anything with a high fat content would be embracing the heart of darkness. Sam supposed, for Dean, it did mean that.

He recalled his brother's comment that what he ate was what "geekboys" like him ate and he was stunned to think that Dean was trying to be more like him. Frankly Sam couldn't understand why. He was hardly a paragon of virtue himself or someone to emulate. In fact, Sam always thought of Dean as the role model. He knew Dean didn't feel like that though and still felt tremendous guilt over what happened with Charlie.

"Hey, I, uh, found a hunt," Sam said, hesitantly. He'd been looking for something simple, something that could restore his brother's faith in himself, and a way to get his brother to trust himself again. Sam had told him that they could overcome the mark together but he suspected his words were not enough. Sam surmised if Dean could successfully complete a hunt, he'd feel a lot better about himself.

He was pretty sure that what he read about online was a spirit that couldn't move on. He'd found out about it on a message board and after some digging, he figured it was actually legit. Sam knew this hunt wouldn't involve any killing and that was just what Dean needed. He needed to ease back into it and see himself as a competent hunter. Ideally, a simple salt and burn would take care of the matter. The hunt was out in Sandwich, Massachusetts and Sam also figured the long drive there would also do Dean good.

"Yeah?" Dean grunted, pushing some peas across his plate. "Not really in the mood."

"Well this spirit has been causing wrecks out on the road, one was fatal a few months back. Last time, a young family had an accident and they're pretty freaked, just minor injuries but still scary for them. I did some research and seems there was a hit and run that happened on that stretch of road years ago. Guy was killed and the driver took off. I guess this family saw the ghost crossing the road and swerved to avoid him. Description seems to fit the hit and run victim. No one has really helped these accident victims out. As a last resort a few of them have turned to this message board." Sam winced slightly at his words because he felt like he was laying another guilt trip on Dean and the last thing Dean needed was more guilt, but he knew he also needed Dean to say yes.

"Well it's New England, maybe they could call those TAPs guys," Dean said, pushing his chair in and putting his dish in the sink.

Sam practically gasped in shock. Dean was hardly a fan of ghost hunters, especially ones with their own reality television shows and after what they went through with the Ghost Facers with all the mischief they caused.

"I think they did reach out to them, but they haven't responded yet," Sam admitted, looking down at his laptop, and clearly seeing a mention of the Ghost Hunters show. "But you know, Dean. They investigate, collect evidence, and don't get rid of the problem."

"Sandwich huh?" Dean asked. Then he sort of chuckled. "I like the name of that town."

"I thought you might," Sam said, good naturedly. "So do you want to go?" Sam asked, hopefully.

"I don't know," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe. I mean, we could use a break. I think I have enough papercuts to last a lifetime, Dean said, referencing some of the paperwork they'd been studying and looking at the bandaids on his fingers.

Sam hid his jubilation and slammed the laptop closed.

ooooo

"I gotta admit Sam. You were right. That was pretty easy," Dean said, as they left the health conscious restaurant after their successful trip to the graveyard. "Gave me feelings of nostalgia," Dean said, jovially. "Kind of nice not to get thrown around like usual too, although that might have added to the fond memories."

Sam couldn't help but smile at seeing his brother perk up like this.

"But that food in there was awful. I mean the chicken was completely undercooked."

"It was not," Sam countered. "It was lean and baked. You wanted it that way."

"Sam, it was practically raw. I think the thing fought me on the way down. I probably have claw marks on the inside of my throat."

"Just because it wasn't charbroiled to a crisp and slathered in barbecue sauce, then topped with bacon," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "Plus all that ice cream you ate must have froze it and put it out of its misery anyway."

"Correction Sam, it was Froyo."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you wouldn't have the ice cream either."

"That was a sacrifice too, believe me," Dean remarked. "Just because they give it a clever little name, it's still frozen yogurt which never was, nor ever will be as good as or a substitute for ice cream. I mean think about it. Ice cream. It has the word cream in it so you know it's good."

Sam just shook his head, putting his hands in his pockets, noting how the temperature had dropped and that a few flakes were falling from the sky. Just then Dean's phone dinged and he looked down at it in disgust.

"We have to get out of here, Sam," Dean said, sounding panicked.

"Why what's wrong?"

"Blizzard warning. Look!" Dean said, holding up the phone and sticking it in his face. "Didn't you check the weather?"

"Yeah I did but that was a couple days ago and they thought the storm was moving south and out to sea."

"Well we have to go before it hits."

"Don't you think we should hang around for another day and make sure there aren't any more sightings of that spirit?"

"No, I'm sorry. We need to go now."

Sam meekly followed Dean back to the hotel. The minute they walked inside, Dean started packing his bag while Sam turned on the TV. He sat on the edge of the bed and listened intently to the forecast.

"Uh Dean, it looks like Juno is already upon us."

"Juno? Wasn't that a movie about a pregnant chick?"

"Yes, Dean," Sam said annoyed. "But it's also the name of the storm."

"Oh my God, don't start with that, Sam. Storm names again? This is ridiculous," Dean said, throwing clothes on the bed. "What's next? Rain storm Fred? Cloudy Bill?"

"Dean, listen. This is serious. It's apparently bombogenesis in play this time too."

"Bomb what?"

"Bombogenesis," Sam repeated.

"So the storm is called a Bomb? Now that is a far cooler name than Juno," Dean admitted.

"No Dean, it's still Juno. Bombogenesis is like cyclogenesis or when a cyclone hits."

"So now this storm is a cyclone?" Dean asked, shocked.

"No, that's not what I mean," Sam said, growing impatient. It's a term for when the pressure drops rapidly by 24 millibars over a 24 hour period. The warm and the colder air collide creating this crazy storm."

"Thank you for the lesson, weatherman Sam. I never knew you had meteorology career aspirations," Dean said, sarcastically.

"Whatever, Dean," Sam said. "Basically it's similar to what happened with Nemo."

Sam saw Dean stop in his tracks and his face fall.

"Don't even mention that name, Sam," Dean said, instantly dropping his sarcastic tone and casting him a serious look.

"So that's what this is," Sam said, realization dawning on him. "Dean, I'm fine. Nothing is going to happen to me."

Sam hadn't even thought about what had happened two years before when they were in Connecticut during the blizzard Nemo and a shoveling mishap had caused him to be a victim of carbon monoxide poisoning. He knew Dean had felt incredibly guilty about what happened to him then. It hurt him to think of how much guilt Dean had built up inside him. Now he was afraid for him and thinking history would repeat itself.

Sam looked outside the window to see that the flakes were falling steadily, accumulating on the ground.

"Dean, I think for our own safety that it would be better if we stay put. There is going to be a driving ban in effect in a couple hours. I saw it on the news. You could get arrested for being out on the road."

"Damn it, Sam!" Dean cursed. "I knew this was a bad idea."

Sam felt his stomach drop. Dean's reaction made him feel even worse about his decision to get Dean out of the bunker.

"Okay," Dean said, at last. "We'll stay until the storm is over but consider your ass on lockdown. I don't want you leaving this room."

"Dean, don't you think you are overdoing it?"

"No, Sam. I told you last time that I hated snow and I wasn't kidding."

"Fine," Sam said, petulantly, grabbing the remote and turning on the television.

ooooo

It was past ten at night when Sam saw the storm was picking up speed. He saw Dean grabbing his coat and bundling himself up.

"What are you doing Dean?"

"Going outside to shovel the car. I don't want it encased in snow like last time."

"Let me help," Sam said, getting up from the bed.

"No, no way!" Dean exclaimed. "That's the last thing I want you doing," Dean said, heading outside.

Sam followed behind as the flakes fell from the sky. They were so simple and delicate, but yet when they worked together, they could get a lot done.

Kind of like us, Sam mused. He just wished Dean saw it that way.

"I just want to get a head start on shoveling. That way if the storm ends early enough and they drop this stupid driving ban, we can get out of here that much faster."

"You'll get done faster if I help you," Sam pleaded. "You need me."

"No I don't need you Sam, okay? Go back inside," Dean said, gesturing towards the door.

Sam stood there, watching Dean cross the parking lot. He knew that maybe Dean was just referring to the shoveling but a part of him wondered if Dean felt he didn't need him at all, didn't believe he could help him with the mark. He couldn't blame him because he hadn't exactly been helpful lately. He pondered it for a few seconds more until the cold chilled him so much that he begrudgingly went back inside the room.

Once he was safely inside, he felt it. He couldn't explain it, but there was a twinge in his chest and a tickle in his throat. Sam coughed to clear it but then he felt like his entire chest went into spasm and he couldn't breathe. It was as if an invisible entity was sitting on top of his chest, limiting his breathing capacity.

No, no, no, Sam thought desperately. It couldn't be, could it? He felt the room starting to swim before him as black spots danced before his eyes.

Have to stay conscious, Sam thought, mentally cheering himself on as he fought for air. Don't panic, he told himself. He knew that panicking was the worst thing he could possibly do and would restrict his breathing even more. He felt like his airway passages were narrowing quickly and he imagined his breath fighting its way through the congestion like a car fighting its way through a traffic jam. He stumbled across the hotel room, trying to make it over to his duffel but suddenly, as if an optical illusion, the room seemed impossibly big and as if the short distance to his bag was miles away.

Finally, he made it to his bag and started to yank things out of it. He was sure they still kept an emergency inhaler on hand. He continued to gasp and wheeze as he looked but then he felt weak, his arms tingling, his legs feeling like they could no longer support him.

Dean will come, he told himself. It was his last thought as he fell to the floor, taking his duffel with him.

ooooo

Dean first shoveled out the back of the car because that was what he was supposed to do the last time when he found Sam passed out and practically near death in the car. He knew he had been short with his brother but frankly he wasn't going to feel too bad about it. If Sam didn't get the seriousness of the situation, then too bad. There was no way he was going to risk Sam's health.

"Shit," he cursed again, when he realized he forgot the windshield scraper. It had to be back in the room. He marched back toward the hotel room, seeing that the parking lot was already rapidly filling up with snow. He could only imagine what it would look like the next morning.

The minute he walked in, he noticed that the television was turned on. It was a nonstop weather report with listings of school cancellations across the bottom of the screen. Some reporter was pointing at the snow accumulation as if no one knew what snow was. However, where was Sam? He walked around to the other side of the bed and that's when he saw his brother. Sam was curled on his side, his eyes half opened, his face contorted, gasping for air.

Instantly he raced into action. He grabbed Sam, picking him up, noticing that Sam's duffel contents were spread across the floor around him.

Sam was barely conscious, his breath coming in quick fast wheezes, like the sound of the ignition on a car with a dead battery struggling to get started.

"Sammy," Dean said, shaking him. "Come on, look at me!"

Sam's head bobbed and his hair went into his eyes so Dean moved it so Sam could see. This was all too reminiscent of the other storm, of so many other times, like the time outside the church.

Sam became more alert then, clawing at his chest as if he could yank the oxygen out.

"Can't…can't breathe," Sam choked out.

"What happened?" Dean asked. For a fleeting moment, Dean wondered if somehow carbon monoxide was in the hotel room or maybe he should look for hex bags.

"Asthma," Sam said in a practical whisper but Dean heard it loud and clear.

"Hold on, Sammy, okay? I got you," Dean said, his hands shaking as he propped Sam against the bed.

He rifled through their belongings until he found it, an inhaler. He grabbed it and held it against Sam's lips. However, it was jammed. Nothing came out. Either it was empty or broken but it would not provide the relief Sam so desperately needed.

Instead he grabbed Sam and began dragging him out the door to the car. The snow was slightly deep but not so bad that they couldn't make it on their own. He was thankful that he had taken the time to shovel out the car. The windshield was still icy but he was sure he could still see. He pushed Sam along, not really noticing whether he was doing most of the work or not. He just knew he had to get Sam to the hospital.

He placed Sam into the car, comforted by Sam's gasps because at least it meant he was breathing. Then he screeched out of the parking lot. He knew the roads would be blissfully clear but that he was risking arrest. However, he didn't care. He'd take cuffs if it meant saving Sam's life.

He hit the highway hard and fast, debating why he didn't just call an ambulance but somehow he thought he'd be faster. He saw some plows already out and skidded around some of them in his urgency to get to the hospital. Then he heard sirens behind him and he didn't know what to do, whether he should stop for them.

Then he dialed 911. He had no clue where the thought came from but he thanked whoever it came from, because he could barely think given the situation. He told the operator where he was, how he was rushing his brother to the hospital, and how he was being chased by the police. He knew they could then relay the information to the officer. Dean looked behind him and saw the officer speed up behind him and go around, taking the lead. Suddenly Dean realized he was giving him an escort as the officer's sirens blared.

oooo

They pulled up in front of the emergency room and Dean could see Sam was still conscious but that his lips were turning blue around the edges, his skin a pale pallor.

"We're here, Sammy. You're going to be fine," Dean reassured him.

Dean jumped out of the car while the officer jumped out of his cruiser. Dean ran over to the passenger side and grabbed for Sam. The officer came over to help, grabbing Sam's legs so they could carry him in. Dean realized Sam had closed his eyes and he sped up his strides in a rush to get Sam into the hospital.

When the staff saw the commotion, they rushed over with a stretcher and he helped place Sam on it. Dean gently placed Sam's head down as Sam managed to open his eyes again and look gratefully at him. An oxygen mask was placed over his face and Sam's eyes drifted closed. Then a nurse asked him what happened.

"Asthma, I think," Dean said. He didn't really know for sure but he was positive that Sam probably knew. He'd never forget when Sam had been hit by his first attack when he was around 12 years old. He'd carried Sam in his arms into the ER himself, tearfully begging his brother to keep breathing. However, Sam had seemed to outgrow it and it had been years since he had anything that even resembled an attack.

"Status Asthmaticus!" He heard someone call out as Sam was whisked away. "Pulse ox is 90."

Dean tried to follow behind but they ushered him to the waiting room. Dean thanked the officer who had to get back to his duties but he wished him the best.

Dean sat down on one of the chairs and looked up to see that the TV was still discussing the weather and how the storm was only going to intensify over night. However, he didn't have time to think about that. His only thought was Sam and how he'd screwed up big time. Sure it had been Sam's idea to go on another hunt. However, he had agreed to it and he had been the one to leave Sam alone in the room while he fought for breath for God knew how long. His mistakes had landed Sam in the hospital again.

He couldn't believe they were dealing with asthma. He looked down at the mark on his arm. They had this to deal with and now Sam being sick too. It was just another itch to scratch, another impossible one to reach.

"I can take you to your brother now," a voice said in the distance.

Dean looked up in shock, surprised with his short wait. He knew he'd been waiting less than 30 minutes.

He was taken into the ER where he found Sam, propped up on pillows, an oxygen mask affixed to his face as vapor spilled out the sides. He was hooked up to a heart monitor, a clip on his finger measuring his oxygen. Dean also noted he was on an IV drip.

Sam gave him a small wave.

"Nice and slow, okay Sam?" The doctor instructed.

Sam just nodded, closing his eyes.

"I'm Dr. Nevica," the doctor said, extending her hand. "I'm the doctor on call."

Dean shook her hand back, watching Sam breathe in and out. He saw Sam's lips were no longer blue and he looked a lot more relaxed than before, breathing coming much easier.

"How is he doing?" Dean asked.

"A lot better. He was barely passing air when he was brought in. We gave him a shot of epinephrine to open up his airways and have him on a nebulizer treatment right now. He's also getting some fluids. I wouldn't doubt he's feeling a bit shaky right now with all the steroids in his system but it seemed to be a classic asthma attack. How long has Sam had asthma?" She asked.

"Well, he had it when he was young but then he…and now…" Dean said stuttering.

The doctor nodded her head as if she understood anyway.

"This happens a lot. People have asthma as a kid and they think they've outgrown it. They don't keep an inhaler on hand. It can be brought on by so many things."

"Like what?" Dean asked.

"Well, the cold for one thing. Was Sam out shoveling?"

Dean shook his head.

"I kind of banned him from that," Dean admitted.

"Stress can certainly be a factor too. Has Sam been under any stress lately?"

Sam looked at his baby brother dozing in the hospital bed, medication being fed into his oxygen starved lungs and he felt like his heart would burst. Stress? How could he describe the stress Sam had been under?

"Maybe, yeah," Dean said, at last.

"We'll probably keep him here tonight," Dr. Nevica continued. "We'll run some tests just to confirm it's asthma. Plus we don't want Sam out traveling tonight in this storm, especially in his condition. Once he's released, we'll get him on some daily steroid medication, an inhaler, and a portable nebulizer to control it."

Dean nodded.

"As soon as a bed becomes available, we'll have Sam moved upstairs. Shouldn't be long," She said, patting him on the arm.

ooooo

An hour later, Sam was moved into a room after he'd had x rays. The doctor said they showed bronchial inflammation which was consistent with asthma. He had a nasal cannula on, just as a precaution the doctor reassured him and an IV drip giving him some medication. He was dozing off and on as if the ordeal had taken a lot out of him. He had finished his nebulizer treatment but the doctor said she'd return to check if Sam might need another one. Dean looked up at the TV above Sam's bed and there seemed to be another Disney flick playing. However, he wasn't watching but instead staring at Sam.

Sam looked peaceful, his face relaxed, as he breathed evenly in and out. Dean saw his eyelids flutter as he woke up again from one of his slumbers and looked over at him.

"Hey," Sam said, tremulously. His voice was shaky from the treatments and raspy from the lack of oxygen he had experienced.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean said, automatically.

"For what?" Sam asked, a confused expression of his face.

"For freaking out about the storm, for telling you to stay in the room, for this," Dean said, gesturing to the hospital room. "And for this too," he said, pointing at the mark on his arm. "It's why you're here."

"The mark of Cain didn't put me in the hospital, Dean."

"You heard the doctor. She said stress can bring on asthma again."

"She also said the cold can too, Dean. Did you hear that?"

"No, Sam. You were fine before this. Now you have me to worry about, never knowing when I might snap."

"I'm not worried about that, Dean," Sam said, sincerely. "Please don't add to your guilt. I'm sorry that I keep adding to it too. It's like Dark Charlie said about me being the albatross."

"The albatross?"

"Yeah a symbol for a burden you have to deal with. Your guilt is your burden and I'm part of that."

"Sam, you aren't an albatross."

"Regardless, your guilt is. You need to stop. I'm worried for you, about how I can help you. You need to stop worrying about me and let me worry for a change about you. You need to let me help you."

"I can't stop protecting you. You know that."

"I do and that's how I know that you are still you. You know something, Dean? The whole time I was sitting there in the car as you drove, it hurt to breathe. It felt like my lungs were on fire, like some poisonous vapor was stealing my breath."

"It sounds horrible, Sammy."

"It was, but I wasn't afraid. I knew my brother would get me help just like you always do."

Dean stayed silent, not responding.

"You keep trying to be someone else Dean. I mean, algae shakes? No burgers? That's not you."

"That's because I'm not me Sam. I can't be me. I have to let go of who I am, do the opposite of what Dark Charlie did. She embraced her darkness."

"Don't listen to her. Listen to me, Dean. Let me be of assistance. I've been there. You are still you," Sam repeated. "You need to embrace that. Do the things you usually do. Eat burgers, make fun of me, keep on being my big brother."

Dean looked away from Sam then, tears threatening.

"Do you want to go downstairs and get a burger right now?" Sam asked, to break the tension.

"Even hospital food would still probably taste better than this health food crap," Dean quipped, regaining his composure. "What's this?" Dean asked, pointing at the TV screen.

"Oh it's Frozen," Sam said, just a hint of excitement in his voice.

"Frozen?"

"Yeah it's a really good movie. It's about these two sisters."

"I don't know, Sam."

"Well you liked Finding Nemo."

"Yeah but this seems like a total chick flick. More your speed."

"Nah," Sam said, propping himself up on his pillows. "It's about family. I think we can relate," Sam continued, winking.

Dean nodded, looking at the screen.

"I do need to say one thing though Sam. We are only taking hunts in warm climates during the winter. I never want to see snow again."

"I figured," Sam said, with a laugh. "I have to warn you though that this movie is filled with snow."

"Where it belongs Sam, where it belongs."

They sat and watched the movie and Sam watched Dean's reaction. Sam hoped Dean could understand that like Anna, he'd do anything to save his sibling. He also hoped that Dean would shed his albatross, his guilt, and in the words of Elsa, let it go.

The End