Part 2.

The EMTs come rushing through the bar doors, and Sam steels himself to be pushed away from Dean's side. No matter how many time he's had do to this, it never gets any easy to accept that he wasn't the person Dean needs the most right now. He had since slipped his thighs out from under Dean and laid him flat on the floor in hopes of making breathing a little easier.

He looks up at the EMT who kneels beside him with a stricken face. The man is smaller than him, not that that was saying much, young, but not young enough to be inexperienced. When he wordlessly places two fingers on Dean's throat without comment to Sam's closeness, the younger Winchester immediately likes him.

"There's an abnormality on his torso," Sam says quietly, "I think it's a cracked rib."

The EMT sends him a mildly surprised glance, "You are...?"

"Uh," Sam nearly stammers, afraid this man will send him away from Dean's side after all. "Sam Winchester, Dean's," he points to his prostrate sibling, "my brother."

"Alright Sam," he says easily, "Can we trade spots?"

Sam nods eagerly and makes way for the more seasoned man. The EMT runs confident hands down his brother's sides and then listens to his breathing and heart with his stethoscope. He nods, lips pressed together, forehead creased in a frown.

"You're right. It probably started out as cracked, but it's broken now, it's deflated his right lung. Get the gurney in here!" He yells through the door that has been propped open.

Sam bites his bottom lip, listening at Dean's wheezing breaths, he squeezes his hand trying to make sure his brother knows he's still there, makes sure he knows to still fight.

"Sam?" The EMT asks, then when Sam looks at him, "My name's Lance, I'm going to lift Dean's upper body, okay? If you can support his middle, then Garret down there," he points to a bald, young black man on Dean's other side, who smiles widely at Sam and waves. "Garret will support his legs and feet, okay?"

Sam nods vigorously, so glad he's being allowed to help, so glad he wouldn't have to fight for his right to be by Dean's side.

"Alright," Lance says, hands snaking under Dean, "Up on the gurney on three...one, two, three."

Sam braces himself and lifts. Dean practically floats onto the gurney with three full grown men lifting him. Sam had forgotten how easy it was to transfer someone with help. He was used to do doing it on his own.

Sam sighs in relief with his brother on the rolling bed and Lance asks him to help push Dean outside.

With the EMT at the head of the bed and Sam on the right side they push Dean out of the bar's doors and to the waiting ambulance. How many times has Sam been here and done this? How many times has he felt the fear, the fear that once in the ambulance, once at the hospital Dean would never leave? It was so hard to know that his best chance was the same place Sam felt like was the Winchester's own person little hell.

Sam jumps up into the ambulance after they hoist Dean in and holds his hand calmly as Lance fixes an oxygen mask over his face, and begins to take his blood pressure. Garret is the driver's seat tearing out of the bar's parking lot and speeding down highway, lights and siren going full blast. That scares Sam even more.

"Hey man," Lance says, noticing Sam's looking a little more white now, "You're awful good at all this."

Sam gives him a stressed smile, "Lots of practice."

"Your brother break a lot of ribs?"

Sam snorts a laugh, "He breaks a lot of everything."

Lance laughs too, nodding his head, "I know the type."

"You got any brothers?" Sam asks curiously, honestly just wanting to pass the time.

A dark shadow passes over Lance's face, his shoulder slumping a little, "Not anymore."

Sam finds himself biting his lip again, the EMTs words bringing back the agony and terror of loosing Dean, his hand tightens around Dean's, telepathically demanding his brother not die on him.

Lance cocks his head to one side, watching the shaggy-haired man watch his brother's still face. He doesn't know these men, or their story, but he would know that haunted look anywhere.

"But you already know what that feels like, don't you?" He asks softly, and Sam looks up at him, tears glistening in his eyes.

"I can't do this again," he whispers, eyes downcast to where his and Dean's hands lay together.

Lance places a confident, but gentle hand on Sam's shoulder, "It's alright Sam, we're well on our way to helping your brother, he'll be in good hands at our hospital."

Sam nods quickly, tucking some loose hair behind his ear, "I know it's just...you never get used to it you know?" He gives Lance a tremulous smile. "No matter how many times I see him like this, no matter how many times I have to let other people save him, it never gets any easy."

Lance has seen a lot of pain, he's seen a lot of blood, he's seen fear and hate. But he's never seen just clear, unadulterated love like that which shines in this man's eyes. If he hadn't had been a brother himself he would have supposed them lovers. But as it is Lance does know. Knows how when things go sour there's really only one person you want. Your brother. Your sister. Your family.

He can also see Sam has been without that before, he knows that's what Sam's fear is. To be left alone again. He knows the pain, the hurt. But it's not about hurting, it's about not being by his brother's side, it's about being ripped away from the person you need. Yes, Lance could relate.

Dean eyes flutter and Lance waits to watch them react to each other. Sam had tensed and leaned over Dean twenty seconds before Lance had noticed him waking. He smirks. These two were so in tune with each other it was sweet. All though they both looked fit to take on an army, looked like they had with their worn clothes and expressions and calloused hands.

Dean's lips move under the oxygen mask, and Lance watches vibrant green eyes come into view and widen panicked, until they light on Sam, then the man's whole body relaxes. Lance watches as his fingers tighten around his brother's and the other hand, which had been resting on his chest, starts to skirt down his shirted torso.

Sam's entire face lights up, Lance knows he doesn't imagine the happy flush the washes over the giant of a man at being sought out first by his brother. His fingers tighten around Dean's hand too. He's watching his brother's face, waiting for the words he knows are coming. Before Lance even realizes the wounded man's intentions, Sam's hand has shot out lightening fast and jerked his brother's hand away from the fractured bone.

"Hey there big brother," he soothes, "Let's not touch that, okay?" He lays Dean's hand on the gurney by his side and pats it, trusting his sibling will do as instructed. He frowns as Dean continues to fight the oxygen mask and try to talk.

"Dean, hey. Don't talk, okay? Just let the mask breathe for you and rest. We can talk about how much of an idiot you are later."

Lance smiles at the snorting laugh that gains from the wounded man, even though it results in a hacking, dry laugh. He grimaces, arching forward a little, the hand by his side coming up to his chest. He lets out a rather disturbing sound from his throat and Lance watches his lips move under the mask.

"What's wrong with you?" Sam asks.

Dean nods weakly, not much movement.

"The cracked rib you failed to tell me about?" Dean nods, having the grace to look a little guilty. "It broke, punctured your lung, hence the trouble breathing."

Lance watches the two curiously, how they take all this information in stride, the younger one evidently used to this, the older one even more used to being in an ambulance going to a hospital with an oxygen mask. He wonders what these boys lives have been like, wonders where they're going, what they plan to do. They tickle his curiosity like patients rarely do.

Sam gives Dean's hand a last pat as they arrive at the ER entrance at the hospital. "We're gonna get you some help okay, Dean? Don't freak out I'm gonna be here, you just might not be able to see me."

Sam smirks as Dean whispers to him, "I know you're not a baby, but we know hospitals creep the hell out of both of us so just keep your chill, alright?

Dean nods and rests back against the gurney as the back doors swing open and Garret appears with a trauma team, they're wheeled into the hospital and right into a trauma room. Sam thinks the hospital must be quiet tonight. He steps back out of the way as an IV is inserted into Dean's arm, and a nurse is immediately shooting something into.

Dean is relaxing into the bed a few seconds later as his shirt is cut away from his chest and the doctor's latex-glove-covered-hands skate down his sides feeling the break and the extent of the damage. She glances up at Sam for a moment.

"What's he doing in here?" She asks bluntly.

To Sam's surprise Lance is still there, "Sam is Dean's brother, he's fine, I can vouch for his presence of mind."

The doctor only nods and then she's barking orders out. "Get me an x-ray, and an OR booked, let's go, let's get this man stabilized."

"What are they going to do?" Sam asks, leaning towards Lance, who pulls him out of the way by the arm. They watch the goings ons from the window to the trauma room. Sam sees Dean, long asleep from the drugs they'd already pumped to him, being shifted onto another bed. He hates when his brother has to have all the tubes going into him.

It's still wraps his heart in fear, still reminds him of the times the doctors told Sam Dean wasn't going to be leaving with him, wouldn't be getting out of the hospital. That his beautiful, passionate, heroic Dean would meet his end in a cold, white-washed hospital. That wasn't the end for Dean, he deserved something better. And if he wasn't going to bite it from a dead heart, or a coma, he definitely was going to die from a silly punctured lung.

Lance walks Sam through what Dean was about to go through, "Usually with a punctured lung you wait to see if the tissue will prepare itself. But with the severity of your brother's symptoms it seems he probably can't wait for his body to heal itself. They're going to insert some tubs down his throat and repair the lung that way. His throat will be sore for a few days, but other than that...keep those ribs wrapped up, try and keep him off his feet and he should be good."

Sam takes a seat after Dean is wheeled past him to go down for his x-ray. He lets his fingers run down his big brother's arm as he passes and bites his lip nervously. He looks back over to Lance.

"So how do you know so much about all this, anyways?" He asks.

Lance laughs, "I'm a nurse too, just an EMT on the side."

Sam raises his eyebrows, "Wow, that's a lot."

"Your telling me," Lance huffs, but laughs. "It's my life, I love it."

He hops up as a nurse approaches and takes the paperwork from her. He sits back down next to Sam. He raises an eyebrow at Sam and flourishes the pen professionally.

Sam just laughs tiredly.

"Dean Winchester got insurance?" Lance asks.

"Uh yeah," Sam grunts and pulls out his wallet, a copy of Dean's information with him at all times.

Lance raises his eyebrow, but doesn't comment. He takes the card from Sam and starts to fill out the forms. Sam watches him numbly for a moment. "What are you doing?"

Lance shrugs, "This is the worst part. I'm doing it so you can sit there and imagine all the terrible ways this could go wrong and your brother could die."

Sam laughs, "Sorry, I know spaced out there for a minute."

"It's okay, I see it in a lot of people. In the heat of the moment they're amazing, couldn't find cooler people in the military, and then as soon as their loved one is taken care of, they fall to pieces."

"Wow," Sam laughs nervously, "Please don't let me fall to pieces."

"Course not," Lance says easily, "Alright, I'll ask you questions and you answer, I'll jot the information down on your brother's chart."

The next hour passes quickly for Sam with Lance keeping him company and distracted. They laugh over Dean's a bit bizarre chart (what with all his multiple previous hospital visits) and Sam's thankful Lance doesn't seem worried or curious as to how Dean gets into so much trouble. A nurse comes in and takes them back to a smaller waiting room.

Sam relaxes, knowing this means Dean's being taken care of and hopefully in a room soon so he can see him. Lance is still by his side and Sam doesn't really understand, but is more than thankful when Lance supplies coffee seemingly out of thin air.

"Perks of being a nurse too." He says smirking, "They always have a good, hot brew in the nurse's stations."

Sam all but melts into his cup of coffee and could have kissed Lance.

Instead he observes him for a moment, wondering what the story of this ordinary, but drastically different human being was. There's those people you meet, Angels that touch your life for a split blink in time, but they're there when you need them. Lance was one of those, and Sam was infinitely thankful.

"What?" Lance asks, from where he's leaning on his knees breathing in the steam from his coffee cup held in his joined hands.

Sam realizes he'd lost himself for a moment and Lance had caught him staring.

"Just," Sam motions around with his hands, "As you know, me and Dean have seen the insides of more than just a few hospitals and in most of those cases we came in contact with EMTs, you're a little different, I mean after you get to the ER the EMTs job is done, right?"

Lance nods and looks away like he's a little embarrassed, "Uh yeah, well sometimes I like to know what happens to the people I bring in."

Sam raises an eyebrow, "Sometimes?"

Lance shrugs, chewing on the inside of his mouth for a moment, "Patients I identify with, I guess."

Sam nods thoughtfully thinking about his brother, thinking about how he's like a magnet to good people, people who place their faith and trust in him. It was a part of Dean's curse, to never be able to have the chance to do right by those good people...they died first.

"So you identify with Dean?" He asks, but Lance shakes his head.

"It's you, Sam."

Sam thinks vaguely this should feel really creepy.

Lance holds up his hands, "Let me explain myself." Sam nods and Lance takes a deep breath.

"My brother, Warren, used to be an EMT with me, we worked nights together for a long time. I was a nurse here at the hospital every other day, and Warren worked with the fire department in his free time.

"I never really thought about it, but the job wore on my brother. He was the big, brave, macho type you know? Big thick skin covering his massive soft side." Sam nods laughing, thinking about Dean, Lance chuckles fondly as well.

"I think Warren just couldn't handle all the suffering, he felt more and more responsible. Felt guilty he couldn't save everyone, couldn't help everyone.

"My brother seemed to get crazy high on danger, loved to press his luck, didn't mind when he got hurt as long as the victim was saved." Sam nods, can totally relate it that, it was like Dean in one sentence.

"After a little while, I noticed he wasn't looking like himself, seemed like maybe he was getting sick or something. It was the next day I was riding the ambulance by myself and we got a call. Except it was an address I knew...Warren's."

Lance shudders in his seat, glances over at Sam with wet eyes.

"There he was out cold on the floor, turns out he'd been at a fire two days before that when a board from the house had fallen on him. The medic had checked him out, advised him to have some x-rays but Warren had insisted he was fine, and that he'd go in himself if he felt weird and he went home."

Lance wiped a tear off his cheek that had snaked down from his eye, "The stupid bastard bled out, a huge internal bleed in his stomach...see Warren didn't wanna die, it just made him feel a little better if he suffered like the people he helped, the people he saved. He couldn't see that his job was already enough, couldn't see how much of a difference he made by just saving them."

Sam was silent, sitting in shock beside his newfound friend as he cried. Lance sniffed and manfully wiped his face clean.

"Sam," he started determinedly. "I don't know you, or your brother, don't know what you do for a living, but your brother was hurt, he was in agony, cracked ribs are no joke. He didn't say anything until he couldn't breathe."

Sam stares at him, tears coming to his own eyes with the implications of his words.

"Your brother was hurt and he knew he was, and he wanted to suffer...don't make the same mistake I did. Make Dean understand, let him know that what he does is enough, make him understand he doesn't have to feel guilty, doesn't have to suffer."

As Sam sits in shock, Lance rises and disappears into the crowd, going back to his ambulance, hoping he's done some good today.

Sam wrings his hands, mind racing jumping to frightening suspicions.

His brother didn't want to die, Sam knew that. He guesses it's not surprising that Dean felt guilty, that was expected, that was common knowledge. And he knew Dean wasn't often concerned about taking care of himself, he didn't really care if he hurt.

Sam knows Dean would have long been dead if he didn't look after him.

But that being said Sam had never suspected Dean punished himself by letting his wounds sit and torture him. Was this a way Dean got release? Was this the reason for Dean's sudden change in mood? He felt his load lighten when he was hurting, because he felt like he was paying for something?

Sam buries his face in his hands. How had he not seen this before? How could he let his brother do this to himself year after year. How many of their before-mentioned hospital trips been the product of Dean's needing himself to suffer? To pay for everyone else's pain, to give penance for not being able to save everyone?

Sam's heart aches it's so full, so miserably in awe of his big brother. He doesn't want to believe it, but it makes sense...it is so Dean. It explains why when things go bad for them Dean gets so reckless, because he needs the aches and the pains to live with himself.

But how could Dean, Dean Winchester believe he was so worthless? How could he suppose he was worth so little when so many people lived because of him? Sam knows Dean didn't see himself as Sam saw him, but he'd hoped, apparently foolishly, that Dean had recovered some self respect.

Sam knows how hopeless Dean has been feeling, because the same feelings are mirrored in his own heart. But what he doesn't know is how Dean feels so guilty, bears all the responsibility. Dean isn't Sam, isn't clever enough to tell himself that it's not his fault. That's what Sam tells himself, because this is his brother he's talking about. His almighty big brother, Dean can't deal with their lives like this...he can't think he deserves to suffer.

Even as he sits there in denial he knows where all this began. After Dean came back from hell and he tortured all those souls. He knew his brother would always feel like he needed to do penance for that. And Dean probably felt he could make it right by feeling all that same pain. And as the years progressed that was how Dean Winchester dealt with things. He let himself suffer in order to pay for whatever he felt guilty for.

It was why he drank. He was miserable and it was right to feel miserable. Sam knew that was what Dean told himself.

A nurse approaches him and he lifts haunted eyes up to her.

"Mr. Allen?"

He nods, finally Dean picked a halfway decent name to put on his insurance.

"Your brother is being settled in a room now, I can take you to him, if you like?"

He nods and follows her a little numbly.

How did he convince his brother that he didn't need to suffer. How did he prove to him that he had nothing to atone for, that he shouldn't just leave his wounds alone so he can suffer. That he didn't need to pay for other people's wrongs, that he didn't have to hurt just because other people were?

How do you convince Dean Winchester of his self-worth?

tbc...

PLEASE REVIEW! ;)

thank you

I meant for this to be only two parts, but it ran away with its self. I'll post the last part tomorrow hopefully. See ya then! ;)