A/N: The last few days, or should I say month, have been rough. It seems readership is down, just like my mood. Give me a shout if you're out there reading. Let me know what you think. I value your opinion whether positive or negative. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review, and I hope to see you back for the conclusion.


It took everything in Dean's power not to start shaking Sully right there. He pulled him to his feet as he continued to tremble and cry.

"He was drunk!" He heard a woman scream, and he looked over at the police tape. He realized it was the one holding the baby. "He could have killed my daughter," she sniffled, holding her close, while her husband tried to soothe her as well.

Sully realized this was just like in his vision, but different now because Sam was dead. Sam had been right. He had made everything worse. The woman's family was okay, but now Sam had paid the ultimate price. He'd much rather Sam be in jail, than be dead.

"This is just like what I saw, but only not the same because it's not supposed to be Sam," Sully mumbled. He'd never been so happy to spot someone he knew, that could see and talk to him than when he saw Dean, yet at the same time, he was terrified.

Dean continued to push his way through the crowd, feeling that Sully wasn't making much sense. In fact, the very idea of Sully being here at all didn't make much sense. However, he ignored all of that for now, trying to see if he could see Sam, but there was too much going on around him.

"Tell me what happened," Dean said to Sully, anxiously. The crowd was moving so slowly and he needed answers now.

"I had this vision and there was some people and a car and they were going to die," Sully rambled. "Then Sam ran out into the street and now he's dead."

"Sully, pull yourself together!" Dean yelled.

Sully looked stricken.

"For Sam," Dean said, softening, placing a hand on his shoulder, incredulous that he was calming someone else down when all he could think about was that his baby brother might be dead. "Tell me what you saw."

"It was awful," Sully whimpered. "Sam flew through the air over the car and finally the ambulance came."

"Why do you think he's...he's...," Dean trailed off, unable to speak, let alone fathom, the words.

"There was so much blood and they said they couldn't find a heartbeat and then they were shocking him with these paddles and he flopped on the ground. They did the same thing with Audrey...but...but...," Sully stuttered, tears spilling down his face.

Dean turned away from him, and continued to press on. Maybe Sully was wrong and it wasn't as bad as he thought. He refused to think otherwise. From what he could understand there had been a drunk driver based on the woman's comments and somehow Sam had been hit. He decided he'd focus on that for now until he knew more.

He followed the trail to where he knew Sam was, afraid of what he would find. He spotted Sam's laptop bag on the side of the road, the laptop hanging out of it, smashed. He stopped short and just stared, as Sully bumped into him. The screen was dangling off of it, wires hanging out. It was damaged beyond repair and Dean could not shake the thought from his mind that maybe Sam was too. He finally snapped out of it and kept walking further, until he saw the car. The windshield was caved in, and the bumper hung off like a severed limb. He could see the hood and roof were dented as images of his brother ricocheting off the car danced across his mind.

Maybe Sully is right. Maybe Sam is-NO!

Dean waged war with his brain until he banished the idea from his mind.

He finally made it next to the ambulance but was stopped by a burly police officer who restrained him with a hand to his chest.

"You can't go back there."

"He's my brother!" Dean snapped.

The officer looked skeptical but then he motioned him forward. They weaved through people and around some law enforcement vehicles until Dean saw his brother.

It was just as awful as Sully had described it, even if he hadn't been entirely clear in the details.

Sam lay on the ground, his shirt sliced open, an array of medical supplies surrounding him on the ground. His shoes were gone and he realized that Sam was probably thrown right out of them. Dean shivered in sympathy as the temperatures had continued to dip and he imagined his brother to be freezing. There were electrodes affixed to his chest, as a paramedic pumped on his chest. Another gave Sam breaths with an ambu bag. Dean could see massive bruising on the left side of Sam's stomach up to his chest. They had placed him in a neck brace and blood from a head wound dripped down the side of his face on to it. They'd applied some type of tourniquet to Sam's arm which looked distorted and was bleeding profusely.

"Clear," a female medic yelled, and suddenly Sam was arching unnaturally off the ground.

Dean instinctively jumped and now he held his breath, hoping to see something, anything.

"Still nothing?" One of the medics asked.

The mood was completely grim, like a spectre looming just over the scene, and Dean felt his fear intensify.

"We've given him everything we've got. I'm thinking serious abdominal and chest trauma," the other medic replied, staring at the screen which displayed an irregular line.

Suddenly Dean rushed forward, as if he could do something to assist them.

He knelt down next to Sam and grabbed his arm, which flopped there lifelessly. His features were lax, lips blue in color, and besides the head wound, he had multiple cuts and abrasions from making contact with the asphalt.

"Sammy?"

"Sir, you need to move away." He was being pulled back by one of the medics.

"He's my brother!" Dean yelled into the night, nervously running his hand through his hair.

"We are doing everything we can," the medic told him.

They were pumping Sam's chest again, an EMT pausing to check Sam's pulse, then glancing at the screen.

Dean watched as the female medic shook her head gravely.

"Cease compressions."

Suddenly everything froze, all the frenzied activity surrounding Sam stopped, and the screen now displayed a flat line.

"Asystole," the other medic said. "Dead on scene?"

Dean was aware that Sully was still nearby, weeping uncontrollably next to him.

Dead on scene. Was that was his brother was now reduced to? Some vehicular accident code? No.

"You can't just quit!" Dean yelled.

He rushed at Sam again, but was held back for a second time.

"Sir, your brother had no breath sounds, no pulse, and was in cardiac arrest when we arrived. We've provided every lifesaving measure possible and he hasn't responded."

Dean ran at his brother's still body again and this time no one tried to stop him.

"Come on Sam!" Dean yelled, lifting Sam's upper body off the ground, his arms dangling by his sides. Dean realized Sam felt ice cold and he was deadweight, as he clutched him close.

On the last hunt, you were a deadweight, and I'm the one who paid for it! His words from earlier echoed in his ears and came back to haunt him. He had mistreated his brother, and now Sam was paying for it.

"They are giving up on you, but I'm not, okay? Doesn't matter what happened," Dean continued, as a tear rolled down his cheek. A silent hush fell over the crowd as if they united in his grief. Even the couple with the baby had approached the scene to see what was happening and had closed their eyes in sadness. He placed Sam back down carefully and stayed there, his knees digging painfully into the ground but he didn't feel it. Then he was aware he was being pushed aside again.

Suddenly he heard medical jargon being called out as the medics asked for another amp of epi, and another. He didn't know if his display of emotion had moved them to resume their life saving measures but it didn't matter. All that mattered was getting Sam back.

"I don't believe this. V fib!" the female medic shouted. Dean wasn't sure what that meant but he hoped it meant that there was some sign of life.

Then Sam was shocked over and over.

"V tach!"

"Let's hit him again," the male paramedic commanded.

Sam's body seized upward off the ground as he was hit with the electrical current.

"Again," the medic said.

The other medics still looked skeptical but Sam was shocked again.

Dean heard the word "holding" as he waited anxiously for some sign.

"We got something but it's irregular and fading fast. We need to move. He's cyanotic. He's barely breathing."

"Let's intubate and see if we can stabilize his airway to improve his oxygenation. If he doesn't get more air, he's just going to crash and we won't be getting him back again," the medic instructed.

Dean watched as Sam's head was tilted back and a tube snaked down his throat. They secured Sam on a backboard and got him on the stretcher, covering him with blankets. They continued bagging him as they pushed towards the ambulance.

"I'm going with him," Dean called, as they wheeled his brother away from him.

"You'll have to sit in the front," the medic said. "We need a team back here to be prepared for anything."

Dean hopped in the front of the cab, reluctantly, knowing that "anything" meant the very real possibility of Sam slipping away again. He tried to keep his ear to what was happening in the back, behind him. He could hear faint beeping in the background as the medics rambled off medications and complicated medical terminology, so he knew Sam was still alive at least. Other than that, he had no idea what was happening.

They moved at breakneck speed, cars moving to the side of the road to let them through. Red lights were not a hindrance as they raced to the hospital. When they arrived in the emergency bay, there was already a team waiting for Sam.

"Male. Early 30's. Vehicle versus pedestrian. Complete arrest when we arrived on scene. Expected abdominal and chest trauma. Open compound fracture of the ulna and radius. Vitals are all over the place," the medic rattled off to the doctor.

One of the doctors put his stethoscope to Sam's chest.

"I can barely detect any breath sounds," he said, as they began jogging down the hallway, pushing Sam on the gurney at a fast clip. "We are going to need portable x ray. Look at this," he said, gesturing to Sam's bruising. "I'm thinking pneumothorax and I can guarantee he's hemorrhaging somewhere."

Dean barely noticed when he was dragged aside, as Sam went rushing by him. He caught a glimpse of just how awful Sam looked under the harsh overhead lights of the emergency room. His skin looked gray and translucent, the bruising standing out in even more startling clarity.

He looked up to see who was pulling him away and it was a male nurse this time.

"You can't-"

"I know, I know okay?" Dean said, interrupting him. He couldn't be here, which made no sense because this is where Sam was and Sam was dying so this was the only place he should be.

"The waiting room is out there. Someone will take your information shortly."

Dean walked through the double doors, glancing one last time down the hallway where they'd taken Sam. He found a seat and nervously sat down.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up to see Sully then and jumped in his seat. He'd forgotten all about him.

"It's really bad isn't it?" Sully asked.

"About as bad as it gets," Dean answered honestly.

A disappointed look crossed Sully's face, as if he was looking for Dean to reassure him.

"I stayed with Sam in the back of the ambulance because I knew you couldn't."

"Yeah," Dean grunted, without looking up.

"They were poking Sam over and over because they said his veins-"

"Stop!" Dean yelled, suddenly, cutting Sully off. He realized he didn't want, couldn't bear to, hear anymore. He'd already seen Sam's battered body endure more trauma than he needed to see in a lifetime.

A janitor mopping the floors looked over at him to see what was going on, but then resumed his work.

"Sorry," Sully said, sheepishly. "I held Sam's hand though, so I hope it helped."

"Thanks," Dean said, sincerely.

"Dean, I...I have to tell you something."

"Please Sully, not now," Dean said, placing his head in his hands. "Wait until we talk to the doctor."

Dean got up after 30 minutes of sitting, realizing the unforgiving chair had renewed the ache in his hip. He shuffled along again, painfully, as Sully's eyes darted back and forth watching him. He spoke to a receptionist briefly to give them Sam's information and now he couldn't even remember what he told them.

Finally a doctor emerged from the doors.

"We're getting ready to take him up to surgery. His injuries are vast. I think we can talk in more detail about the nature of those injuries if your brother pulls through."

"If?" Dean questioned, angrily.

"He's bleeding into his abdominal cavity and we're doing all we can just to keep him breathing. We'll talk after the surgery," the doctor said, calmly. "If it's any consolation, he's in capable hands," the doctor added, before rushing off again through the doors.

"He didn't say much did he?" Sully asked, once he was gone.

"It's usually like that," Dean replied, honestly, sitting back in the chair.

"Sam...he...he's been hurt a lot, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, in more ways than one," Dean said, digesting this himself. Sam was broken now both mentally and physically.

Sully was at a loss for words. He could see Dean was hurting, and he wanted to desperately tell Dean this was all his fault but he wasn't sure if it would just make everything worse. He didn't want Dean to demand he leave. What if he left Dean without a brother, just like he'd left Reese without her sister?

They sat in relative silence for several moments before Dean got up to pace some more. Sully could see he was in pain.

"What happened? Why are you walking like that?"

"Dinged my hip," Dean said, simply.

"On a hunt?"

"Yeah, church poltergeist. Sam was...distracted," Dean stuttered, looking for the right word.

"I noticed Sam seemed like he wasn't-"

"Sam?" Dean finished for him.

"But then he saved those people and I was looking at the same old Sam all over again," Sully said, changing the subject.

Sam saved them. He used himself as a human shield.

Dean had no idea why this was just dawning on him now. Of course. The mother and father with the baby. A drunk driver. Did he think his brother was now incapable of saving people just because he was going through something?

"I didn't realize Sam saved them," Dean admitted to Sully, and to himself that he had doubted Sam.

"Of course he did. Sam is a hero."

Dean nodded, and then felt a hitch in his chest as emotion suddenly struck him.

Does Sam know that? Dean wondered.

"But Sam doesn't think so," Sully said, sadly, as if reading Dean's thoughts.

Dean realized then that he hadn't been giving Sam much credit lately either. For a moment, he'd even felt surprised that Sam saved anyone because he'd just been so unfocused lately.

"Is that why you're here? To comfort him?" Dean asked.

"Um, well.." Sully hesitated. "I'm not really supposed to tell Sam's secrets, but he's so sad, Dean. Not the kind of sad you get when your bike gets stolen, but the kind that comes from right here," Sully said, gesturing to his heart.

"The cage...it just...he hasn't been the same."

"He told me no one cares," Sully said, almost in a whisper.

Dean looked stricken.

"Sir, is everything okay over there?" Someone asked, interrupting their conversation.

Dean realized it was a doctor or someone who looked like one anyway.

"Is Sam okay?" Dean asked.

"Sam?" He asked confused.

"He's my brother. There was an accident."

"I'm sorry. I'm Jamal, one of the physician assistants here. I'm not familiar with his case. However, I just noticed you were limping somewhat and having a conversation with someone, but I didn't see anyone there."

Dean felt his temper flare, but the last thing he needed was to get in an argument and get kicked out of the hospital. He hadn't really been dwelling on the fact that he was the only one who could see Sully, and how that might look to someone else.

"Were you in the accident too?" He asked, concernedly. He pulled out a penlight and Dean backed up.

"No, I'm fine. Must have slept funny and I was just thinking out loud, helps calm me down," Dean replied, as an excuse.

"Let me know if you need anything," Jamal said, looking like he wasn't entirely sure if he should believe him. However, he retreated back down the hallway and Dean continued his pacing, until Sam's doctor appeared before him.

"I didn't introduce myself before. I'm Dr. Emilio," he said, putting out his hand.

"Dean," Dean said, as he shook it, wondering if the doctor could tell how much his palms were sweating.

"I apologize for my brusqueness earlier but we had to get Sam into surgery as soon as possible."

"How is he?" Dean asked nervously.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the one Sully was sitting in.

Dean felt his heart skip a beat. Being told to sit down was never a good thing in his eyes. Plus, Sully was sitting there looking terrified, and he couldn't exactly tell him that.

Dean looked at the doctor anxiously, who pointed again at the chair.

"I'll stand, thanks," Dean said. "How's Sam?"

"He survived the surgery," the doctor began.

Dean took a breath, all memory of the pain in his hip gone, even though he was leaning heavily on it.

"When Sam was brought in, we thought he had a pneumothorax or a collapsed lung because of his low oxygen levels. However, thankfully we have some smart doctors here who figured it out," he said, with a small smile. "We discovered Sam had a ruptured diaphragm, a muscle that sits just below the ribcage and plays a vital role in breathing."

"So you fixed it and he'll be okay, right?"

"There were complications," the doctor said.

Of course.

Dean wasn't surprised to hear that. There was always something else to deal with.

"Due to his injury, Sam suffered a traumatic diaphragmic hernia, which means his abdominal organs were pushed up into his chest cavity. You can only imagine the strain and pressure that puts on a patient's lungs, not to mention the strangulation of the organs."

Dean felt dizzy and sick. Strangulation? He visualized the amount of pain Sam endured and him physically suffocating before he stopped breathing all together. He realized Sully had vanished again, and he was grateful because he believed he was going to need to sit down.

"In addition to his most serious injury, Sam lost a large amount of blood. He was hemorrhaging into his abdominal cavity due to a ruptured spleen. Normally we'd try not to remove it. However, it was necessary to get the bleeding under control as fast as possible and repair the tear in his diaphragm."

"So he lost his spleen too," Dean croaked out.

"Unfortunately," the doctor said, soberly. "He also suffered that open compound fracture to his left arm. One of the bones nicked an artery which caused blood loss as well. It was touch and go, and frankly right now it still is. We almost lost Sam again on the table and from what I know, Sam went several minutes without oxygen before he arrived here. We have to monitor Sam closely for infection, brain and other organ damage, as well as other complications. What is most pressing right now is Sam's level of unconsciousness."

Now Dean knew he really needed to sit down. He plopped down in the chair, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

"Are you okay, Dean?" The doctor asked. "Would you like some water?"

Dean shook his head, even though his mouth was completely dry, his tongue like sandpaper.

"Do you want me to continue?"

Dean nodded, unable to form coherent words at the moment.

"Con...consciousness?" Dean squeaked out.

"Your brother is in a coma."

TBC