I do not own Supernatural. There will be typos since I don't have a beta, English is not my mother language and I have a broken wrist wich makes it hard to type. Anyway, enjoy this one guys.

With love, Kim.

WARNINGS: graphic violence, strong language, gore. A lot of gore.

It's set in an alternate season 9.

9x01: Don't stop believin'.

Dean took Sam's huge, limp body in his arms and manouvred him into the backseat of the Impala. No way in fucking hell he was going to drive to the nearest hospital. There would be way to many questions and they'd probably end up in jail. No, Dean would nurse Sam back to health himself. He started the roaring motor of the Impala, heard a moan from the backseat and pushed himself to drive to Kansas as fast as humanly possible. The bunker was only three hours away. Dean promised himself a whole liqour store if he made it in two. And he did.

"C'm on Sammy.. Stay with me a little longer." Dean said when he heard something alive on the backseat. He parked the car, got out and almost ran to the other side to get his little brother out. "Sam, can you walk? Or at least with my help?" Dean asked when he opened the door and swung Sam's legs out of the car. Sam nodded weakly and tried his best to keep his eyes open. They were large, red and had deep dark circles beneath them. Dean worried even more now that he saw Sammy in the light of the streetlight opposite of the bunker. Dean hoisted up Sam, took his limp right arm and swung it over his own strong shoulders. Dean placed his free hand around Sam's wrist to support him a bit more. "Okay now Sammy, easy and step by step. It ain't long." Sam trusted Dean blindly right now. Step by step, they came closer to the bunker and Dean had actual hope that they would make it.

This all made Dean go back down memorylane. He had done this countless times from the first time that Sam had come on a hunt and got hurt when he was 6, and now, the 30-year-old Moose who had been talked out by his brother on closing the Gates of Hell and killing himself in the proces. Dean was afraid Sammy might still die from what the trials did to him, but he'd find a way. Damn sure he would find a way.

When they finally were inside the bunker, Dean had noticed that Sam couldn't walk one step more. So he did what Sam had done with him countless times as well. When Dean had been serverly injured on a hunt and he couldn't walk anymore, Sam would scoop him in his arms and carry him all the way to the Impala. None of the brothers would ever mention it again. And so now it was Dean's turn to carry his brother to his bed.. Which was further down than Deans.. "Yeah you're sleeping in my bed kid.." Dean said when he looked at the Moose he was about to carry down a fleet of stairs. Praying to whatever that he was strong enough, he picked up Sam and set his feet on the first step. "Damn Sammy, how much weight did you lose man?!" Dean asked. Sam felt as light as when he was 16. "Not that much." Sam murmerd. Dean took mental notes to check absolutely everything checkable when Sam was safe in bed.

Not too long after, Dean settled Sam in his bed and started to undress him. The boots and socks were the easy part. When Dean started to peel of the shirts, he saw Sam in pure pain. Every muscle tensend in Sam's body. He was sweating, glowing with heat and looking downright scary. "I know, I look like shit." Sam whispered. "Shit doesn't even begin to touch it bro." Dean said firmly. "First I'm gonna stitch up that cut in your hand, then I'll check the rest. Try to stay awake, please." Dean waved through Sam's hair before leaving. Sam closed his eyes, and had already almost passed out when Dean returned not two minutes later.

Dean had taken everything he could find and had thrown it into his duffel bag. The bag hung heavily on his shoulder when he ran into his room. "Sam! Wake up, Sammy.. Gotta clean the wounds and stuff." Sam opened his eyes and searched for his brother. Dean sat down next to Sam on his bed and took Sam's injured hand in his own and wrapped off the bandana that had been a makeshift bandage. Dean's eyes widened at the sight that revealed itself. "Damn it Sam, how deep did you cut it?!" Sam didn't reply. The cut was very deep and red around the edges. A small river of blood dripped down and it all looked really irritated. Dean took a clean washcloth soaked in rubbing alcohol. He started rinsing out the wound, making sure he was as gentle as he could.

This also sent him back in time. Stitching his baby brother up, taking care of him. "You ok?" Sam nodded. Dean took the needle and thread in his free hand and started to pierce it through Sam's skin. Dean was glad that because Sam was in so much pain already, he didn't really feel the stitches. Sam was numbed by pain. His tense muscles eased with every passing breath. He was on his way to the beautifull world that was called painless sleep. Dean finished up stitching and shifted on the bed. He took the thermometer he had purchased after Sam started getting sick due to the trials. Dean had did the drill almost every night since he found Sam's bloody napkin in the trash.

Dean turned the already overused thermometer and slipped it into Sam's mouth. Ten seconds passed, twenty, thirty... A minute later the stupid thing still hadn't shown Sam's temperature. "You got to be kidding me." Dean sighed and took out the thermometer. "If you feel this in any way possible, and tell anybody about it, you're a dead man, Winchester." Dean said seriously while bending over Sam's head. It looked peaceful and fast asleep, so Dean didn't waste precious seconds of sleep and pressed his full pink lips to Sam's hot and sweaty forehead. He closed his eyes and counted to five. He knew it didn't need more than five seconds, but he didn't let go.

Dean did not know why, but he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He sat back up and took in the look of his brother. His baby-little-huge-moose-brother. Damn, he looked bad. He looked small and fragile. And Dean actually felt like he messed up. He really messed up. He couldn't protect Sam. Now saw was burning up with a fever, his insides were damaged and he looked like actual Hell. Dean was already mentally locating the nearest crossroad.

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Sam was still asleep after 48 hours, and only left him alone for 6 hours to take care of something. Dean had picked up Crowley from the church and tied him in the bunker's hidden dungeon. On his way back, he had stopped by a liqourstore and bought it almost empty. He was going to need the damn stuff.

Dean had re-taken his seat on the edge of the bed and swiped away the sweat from Sam's forehead with a damp washcloth. Dean took the bottle of Jack he had sitting on the nightstand and took a large gulp. Suddenly he felt movement beneath the washcloth. Sam's head turned to face Dean, eyes blinking and searching for the green eyes belonging to his older brother. "Sammy! Hey.. Hey how are you doing?" Dean said, smiling. Sam tried to say something but his throat was way to sore to produce words. "Oh.. Want me to get you some ice? I'll get you some ice." Dean sat before padding Sam's shoulder and running of to the kitchen. He returned to a wider awake Sam which did Dean good. Dean slipped some ice chips into Sam's mouth. He was really grateful for that, because damn his throat stung like a bitch. Once the swelling had settled down a little he tried again. "I feel like crap." Sam's word were almost whispers, but Dean almost jumped from happiness. Sam was alive and talking, hells yeah.

Sam tried to sit up, but Dean stopped him. "No way, little bro. Stay down just a little longer. You just woke up from the mother of naps." "How long was I out then?" Sam asked confused. "Almost two-and-half days. I've been gone for about six hours to get Crowley and locked him into the dungeon. Kevin's also fine, although he really isn't keen on the idea the king of Hell is in the bunker." Sam's eyes opened even wider. "Dude, so long? And you just let me sleep?" His voice contained a soft touch of anger, but he also knew that Dean would never leave him alone is there was another way. And Kevin was here, so if something had happened he wasn't really alone. "I've tried to wake you, but you just didn't." Dean motioned his head towards Sam's left arm. "It's not like I let you die anytime soon." There was a needle in Sam's arm, attached to an IV bag filled with a transparent liquid. "You smartass." Sam whispered in awe.

"How's your hand?" Dean took the nicely wrapped hand in his own and started to take off the bandages. The wound looked actually quite clean and the stiches weren't irritating. "Fine, I guess. Stings a little." Sam said while looking down at his hand. "I had to re-do your stitches only hours after I stitched it up first. Everything was red and irritating.. Somehow I was glad you were out, you slept through the worst." Dean looked Sam right in the eyes. Sam felt a unconfortable by that. Then he started to take in his surroundings. This wasn't his bed, it was Dean's. He saw a picture of him, Dean and both his parents sitting on the nightstand, right next to the almost empty bottle of booze. That sure wasn't Dean's first and only. "Why am I in your room, Dean?" "Well, passed out before we got down the stairs, and I wasn't going to carry you all the way down to your room. So I put you here." Dean smiled. "You carried me? You? I'm a head taller than you!" Sam couldn't believe what he just heard. "Well, you also weigh just about as much as when you were 16 dude.."

They heard a knock on the door, and Kevin appeared in Dean's room. "Sam, you're awake! Thank God!" Kevin almost yelled. It hurt Sam's head. "Keep it down a notch, will ya?" Dean hissed as he wrapped the bandage around Sam's hand. Kevin looked down for a moment. "But, ehm, Dean.. Crowley won't shut up. I can hear him in the library.." Dean rolled his eyes. "I'll go and take a look. You sleep some more, Sammy." Dean sqeeuze Sam's shoulder and even smiled a little. Sam nodded and smiled back. "Wake me for dinner." Dean laughed. "No way." And with that, Dean and Kevin left the room to give Sam his deserved rest.

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Behind two huge cabinets in the archivesroom, Crowley was whining about absolutely every simple little thing. He was in demonic handcuffs, there was a Devil's trap made out of concrete and steel, the whole place was warded against any supernatural being and it was packed with torture supplies. Dean sometimes dared to come close enough to hit him square in the face, but he couldn't bring it to himself to start torturing again. Not with Kevin around and Sam in the condition he was in now.

"Can't you shut the fuck up for just one little hour?" Dean said while he brushed through the hidden door in the cabinets. Kevin wasn't allowed back there, so it was just Dean and Crowley. "Really, Squirrel, can't you be nice for once. You're just downright rude to me." Crowley said in his typical accent. "Nah, I've got enough on my mind. Being nice to a fucking demon isn't on my list." Dean came a little closer, the Colt hidden in his waistband. "Now, Dean, don't go down that road. I've done a lot for you and the Moose. I gave you the Colt to kill Lucifer, what didn't work ofcourse, but what the hell. I've given you Dick on a Stick by donating my blood. Well, that got you into Purgatory.. Anyway, I was about to give my life for the entire human race and even that didn't work out for you. Man, man, Dean. You really suck at everything, don't you." Crowley smiled while metally torturing Dean. It was that what made Dean human. His guilt. He felt guilty for absolutely everything, and right now, his baby brother was fighting for his life. Also Dean's fault. "It's always your fault. You started the Apocalyps by breaking the first seal in Hell. You broke after 30 years in the pit and started torturing souls. You are too weak to ever be a good hunter again. Not like before Hell. Before your daddy sold his soul for you and died."

Sickening. That was the sound that came from the dungeon. Sickening. Dean had picked up a blade and started cutting into Crowley. He strung him up six ways from sunday and took Ruby's knife out of his waistband. "Too bad I can't kill you yet. You may be useful, you fucking son of a bitch." Another hit in the face, another stab in Crowley's side. Dean had flashbacks: Hell, Alastair, Lucifer.. Dean decided it was enough after a full hour of beating, stabbing and swearing and took out a bullet from the Colt. With a knife, he carved a Devil's trap in it and put it back into the Colt's magazin. "You gonna shoot me, Dean? It's not much use you know.." Crowley spat out some blood. Dean pulled the trigger and hit Crowley in his shoulder. "Well now there is just no possible way for you to get out of here ever again. And that was kinda the point." Dean said with a smile that would scare the living shit out of normal people. It didn't scare Crowley, not as far Dean could see. "Just keep hanging in there, Crowley." Dean left without another word, and closed the door through the cabinets.

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Hey guys ! Hope you liked this one. Part 2 is coming up very soon, I promise !

xxx