Disclaimer: I do not own Dean (drool) or Sam (a lot more drool)

Author's Note: Alright, so this is officially AU. If you're reading this, just remember, this was my personal version of the season one finale. This is picking up where I would have season two start. (I LOVED the season finale, though)

God, my head hurts like a bitch, was the first thought that crossed Dean's mind as he painfully returned to consciousness. He was aware of the sticky feel of the blood on his scalp and he knew that something big must have happened to cause this much blood.

It all came flooding back in a rush. The demon. Bobby. John. Meg. The Colt. The semi. His car.

Sam.

He was suddenly aware of the gasping sounds he was making to get air in and the pain each breath caused him.

"Dean?" A familiar voice reached his ears. He could barely feel any of his body, but he could roughly tell he was on a hard surface and someone was cradling his head in their arms, gently, so as not to cause any more damage.

His heart soared for a few seconds. Still delirious, to Dean's ears the voice sounded too familiar. Forcing his airway to open up further, he croaked out "Sam?" Oh, god, that hurt. Sam had saved his life, but he hadn't managed to get very far from the Impala when the damn semi crushed it.

"No, Dean. It's John. Can you open your eyes for me?" Dean mentally winced. His stomach sunk even lower. Of course it wasn't Sam. Sam, who had sacrificed himself for his older brother.

How long had he been out? Sam could be anywhere by now. And he had no means of transportation. But he didn't have time to mourn for his car right now. He needed to get to Sam. Oh, well look how that turned out last time, Dean.

"Dean, come on, open your eyes." Dean's eyelids felt heavy and he didn't want to open his eyes. His body was telling him that he should let the darkness consume him again. But he knew that opening his eyes was just the first step. Once he got past that he should be fine.

He took a deep breath---which hurt like hell—and pried his eyes open.

Even in the darkness he had to squint. Any light nearby burned into his retinas. He braced himself against the barrage of dizziness and pain, which was to be expected judging by the damage. He couldn't complain, though. He was alive.

As the speed to the spinning came to a stop, his eyes came to focus on his father's face, which held more concern than Dean had seen him with in awhile.

"Take it easy, Dean. You're looking pretty bad." John pushed Dean back down as he tried to sit up suddenly. Dean struggled weakly. He didn't have time for this.

"I look worse than I am. Trust me. Let me up. I'm fine." John warily let go of his grip on Dean's shoulder and scooted back. Dean noticed he was still outside; he could still see the building in the background.

Dean shot up a little too fast. With a curse he felt his world spin. He couldn't see anything. Lights were popping before his eyes. He had the sensation of pitching face forward and someone catching him.

"What'd I tell you?" John said. "Take it easy. I come out here, find the car crushed,"--- Dean mentally winced. He hadn't gotten the chance to look at the damage; he didn't think he could handle it right now.—"and you pinned under a door. What the hell happened?"

Dean, still leaning against his father's chest, found himself still gasping for air. He had to hurry and explain. "Semi--- crashed---- Meg----- had to find-----Sam."

"What do you mean? Where is Sam?" John's voice immediately turned grave.

"Meg. Made a deal with him. He told me not to come after him." John stiffened. Dean's vision started to clear and he unsteadily pushed himself onto his hands and knees.

"He thought he could save us. She promised to leave us alone as long as he cooperated." Dean's chest tightened at the memory. John looked blank, staring at the ground.

"I tried to stop him, dad. I did. But he's never listened to me. He made up his mind." Oh great. Here came the tears. He couldn't afford this.

"And now, I think it's too late." He felt dizzy all over again. He quickly lowered his head into his hands. He had always been able to protect Sam. It was in the job description as an older brother.

Dean could handle himself. He didn't need Sam sacrificing himself for him. He had thought it was an unspoken rule that it would never come down to that.

But Sam had totally thrown that rulebook out the damn window.

Sam had made up his mind. But so had Dean.

Dean was still half out of it as John helped him inside the dilapidated shack. Dean groaned. He never wanted to come back here ever again. His and Sam's blood was still stained on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked. John was digging through his bag, looking for something.

"I'm calling an ambulance." Dean felt a pang of panic.

"No!" He shouted and immediately regretted it. He tried not to wince in front of John. "We're already far enough behind. I'm fine!"

"Dean, they're far gone enough. If they don't want to be found right now, they won't be found, especially with you in your condition."

"I told you, I'm fine! Sam's not, though! He needs me! He needs us! I'm not leaving him!"

"Dean, the only thing you'll accomplish with this is getting yourself killed. Sam didn't make his decision for that!"

"So you're saying we should abandon him?"

"Of course not, Dean! He's my son!"

"Then let's go!"

"We can't help him!"

"Don't you give up on him!"

"I can't lose both of you, Dean!"

They both sat in silence. John stared at Dean, waiting for a response. When none came, he turned his back, putting the phone to his ear. With another pang, Dean recognized Sam's phone. Dean's phone had been in the Impala.

Realizing this fight was over, Dean lay down in the most comfortable position possible and closed his eyes. He kept having to open his eyes because his vision was always assaulted by the last look Sam had given him. He had been pleading with Dean not to do what he knew Dean's programming told him to do. As if he could disrupt Dean's very thought process with a look.

It almost worked. But nothing could stop Dean's older brother instincts in full swing. It was burned into his genetic code the second Sam was born and had been increased tenfold 22 years earlier when he had carried his baby brother out of a burning building. Ever since that fateful night Dean had felt it necessary to get Sam out of any other 'burning buildings' as it were, sometimes more literally than others.

He had started to drift off when he heard the ambulance in the distance.

They--- the Demon, Meg, all of them--- had officially declared war. And Dean wasn't going to give up until he had his brother back by his side. These sons-of-bitches were going down.

I'm coming for you, Sammy.