Polaris

Summary: The angels are pushing Sam out. Lucifer is pulling Sam in. Dean just wants to hold onto his brother before it's too late. Set post Lucifer Rising…might as well call it AU since that will happen with the season premier.

A/N: Please see Chapter One. And thanks for reading and reviewing…I will respond if ffnet plays nice!

Beta: Gidgetgal9 and Bayre…thank you ladies!

Chapter Three

More than four weeks had passed since Dean had taken off to deal with the mess Sam had made and his brother's absence weighed more on Sam than the physical remnants of his sickness.

Ruby had claimed that the demon blood hadn't poisoned him but that, as well as most of what she'd told him, had been a lie.

He'd read up on cravings and withdrawal and expected something – a clawing, tearing, screaming need for blood – but that had never materialized. Instead he'd been left with kidneys that didn't want to function. Something about foreign bodies in his bloodstream clogging up the works. Demon blood definitely fit the bill.

Sam didn't want to share that bit of news with Dean but he'd vowed to himself that he'd tell his brother the truth from now on. The doctor said until his readings were abnormal for three months, he wouldn't be classified as in kidney failure. He had some small amount of hope that his body would pull out of this. He was, after all, one of the special children with all sorts of physical upgrades.

The weekly trips to the hospital for dialysis were something Sam tried to put out of his mind. They were just a little inconvenience. Dean being gone was like a huge hole in his life.

He cringed when he thought of what he'd put Dean and Bobby through, the horror of his detox. Especially Dean. He could have sworn before that his brother was disgusted with him – his choices, his behavior, his being alive. But now Dean treated him like he had when they were kids.

Like Sam was someone special. Like he mattered.

Sam's own self esteem had been knocked off its axis and if the guns and knives hadn't been secured, there were times when Sam knew he'd succumb to the temptation to end his existence. Before he left, his brother seemed to sense when that mood was upon Sam and he stayed close. He did things like encourage him to have something to eat and remember to drink plenty of fluids. Even ran a bath for him – said it helped with withdrawal, according to the internet.

When Castiel had come a-calling over a month ago, Sam tried not to resent him. Dean was important to the resistance. Dean was the resistance. It had been foretold that his big brother would slay Lucifer.

So Sam had stood back and watched as the warrior angel, clad in a trench coat, whisked his brother away. Little did Sam know that his brother would be gone so long.

A soft whoosh filled his ears and Sam looked up from the computer to find Dean and Castiel standing in the middle of the living room, the angel's hand on Dean's shoulder.

His brother said some choice words that made Sam smile and when he blinked, the angel was gone.

The smile slid from Sam's face as Dean tottered on his feet, fighting to keep his balance. Rushing forward to steady his brother, he could see dark smudges on the left side of his brother's face. Dean's usually lively green eyes were dulled with pain and more than a little out of focus. Exhaustion? Concussion?

"Dean, you okay?" Dean reacted to Sam's voice, turning toward him, grabbing on to his shoulders like a lifeline.

Bobby burst into the living room, a softly bitten out, "Shit,' muttered as he made for Dean's side. "Let's find you somewhere to land before you face plant. Someone smack you in the head, boy?"

Sam followed Bobby's lead, taking Dean by the arm and guiding him to the couch. Bobby's couch had seen a lot of use since the brothers had started bunking with the seasoned hunter and Sam for one was grateful – it sure beat the Impala for comfort. Not that he'd disparage Dean's baby out loud.

His brother allowed himself to be manhandled, which told Sam far more than words could of how out of it he was. Dean submitted to Bobby's head injury exam, shaking the older man off when the hunter proclaimed, "No sign of damage…course you'd need a brain in order to suffer the effects of a concussion."

He'd always envied Bobby and Dean their easy banter and comfortable relationship and that hadn't changed between them. Since they'd shown up at Bobby's this last time, the hunter treated Sam like he was fragile, damaged goods, and didn't ask anything of him. However, that was better than being ignored altogether and was more than Sam thought he deserved.

Lilith might be dead but Lucifer wasn't. That was all on Sam.

Dean chose that moment to exercise his right to speech. "Little love tap, Castiel said I'm fine. Just a little tired. Freakin' angels kept me running around. Useless pieces of…hey, Sammy, how are you doing? I only thought I'd be gone for a day. Told Castiel that's what I wanted. How long was I gone?"

Traveling with the angels screwed with the passage of time, much like Dean's trip to hell, and it didn't surprise Sam that his brother didn't realize he'd been gone for over a month. It also didn't surprise Sam that the angel had misled his brother about how long he'd be gone. Angels and demons both seemed to have an affinity for deception.

Maneuvering his brother back until his legs bumped the couch, Sam pushed his index finger into the middle of Dean's chest and watched him tumble back. An overtired Dean could ramble for hours and the least Sam could do was make him comfortable.

Bobby was moving around the kitchen, probably getting Dean a painkiller and water. Sam busied himself by spreading a blanket over his brother. "Let's just say you were gone a while. Why don't you close your eyes and relax? We'll catch up later."

Dean snagged his arm, tugging him close. "How are you feeling? And don't give me that fine bullshit."

Sam's mouth quirked into a semblance of a smile. He'd missed Dean. Missed his fussing and brotherly clucking. Sam sunk on to the couch next to his brother as Bobby appeared with a glass and some pills. The older man cleared his throat, shooting Sam a guarded look. "How about you take these pills and you and your brother can talk later?"

The exhausted man next to him swallowed down the tablets with a gulp of water. Fingers captured his hand as Sam gathered himself to stand up. "You'll be here when I wake up, right? You're not gonna pull a disappearing act on me?"

Squeezing Dean's hand, Sam rose to his feet. He opened his mouth to assure his brother he wasn't going anywhere but he caught the troubled look on Bobby's face and the way his friend shook his head no. Closing his mouth and swallowing, Sam replied, "Just get some rest. I promise I'll be back and you can fill me in on what's going on in the trenches."

His brother grunted but let loose his hand.

Sam knew Dean wouldn't take his news well but there wasn't much he could do about it. He had to be at the hospital in thirty minutes for treatment and although he wanted to cancel – Dean needed him here and Sam owed him that much – he knew Bobby would kick his ass. Hell, Bobby had practically frothed at the mouth when Sam started having problems and insisted he go to the doctor. The fit Bobby had pitched when there was no way to get in touch with Dean would have been comical if not for the stress the older man was undergoing.

It was all Sam's fault. The consequences of his choices always bit other people in the ass.

He could only hope that his brother remained asleep until he got back.

-0-

Dean roused from his nap, snapping his mouth shut. He hated sleeping with his mouth open like that. It made his throat hurt and it gave Bobby and Sam fodder for teasing him.

Thinking of Sam, Dean sat up and looked around. He'd been pretty out of it when he'd arrived via angel express but he had a vague memory of his brother looking different. His hair was longer, brushing his shoulders and that's not something that happened in a week. The skin under Sam's eyes was shiny and bruised looking. He didn't expect Sam to be in the prime of health after all he'd gone through but the way the clothing hung on his brother told Dean they needed to have a serious talk – Sam had to take better care of himself.

Although if Dean had been here, where he'd wanted to be, he would have looked after his brother himself.

Sometimes it sucked being heaven's bitch. He'd vowed to serve them but a lot had changed since then and he wanted out. Let them find someone else to go toe-to-toe with Lucifer. Not that the onetime angel was causing much in the way of problems. It was quiet out there. Spooky quiet.

Pushing to his feet, Dean hit the bathroom. A long hot shower eased the kinks in his neck and loosened his muscles. A quick shave took care of the stubble dotting his face and the toothbrush took care of that something died in the mouth taste.

He rifled around in the bag someone had thoughtfully left inside the door. Finding clean clothes, Dean donned them quickly and then went in search of Sam.

His brother wasn't in the living room, or Bobby's library, or the kitchen. He knew he wouldn't find him in the basement…kid never went down there anymore. Too many bad memories.

He bumped into Bobby who was coming out of the basement. "Do you know where Sam is? I've been looking for him."

His friend mumbled something and brushed by him, refusing to make eye contact. Agitation burned in Dean's stomach. If Sam was up to his old tricks…

"Damn it, Bobby! Where is he? I know I was gone for more than a day, but still, Sam can't be trusted on his own. What if he…" Dean broke off his sentence furious with himself. Sam was leaning against the door jamb looking miserable.

His brother had a lightweight jacket on which told Dean he'd been outside; outside on his own was a bad idea in Dean's opinion. He hadn't meant to imply that Sam couldn't be trusted. Actually, he hadn't meant for Sam to hear him say that. The trust thing was still an issue due to the addiction thing. Addicts would say or do anything…Sam had proven that before.

Swallowing audibly, Dean tried to salvage the situation. "Listen, I'm sorry. I woke up and you were gone and…"

"It's okay, I get it," Sam said, slipping out of his jacket. He moved to the kitchen table, dropping into a chair. The jacket twisted between his hands as he worried the fabric. "There's something I need to tell you. Will you have a seat? Bobby, you might as well sit down, too."

The older man harrumphed but did as Sam asked, taking the seat at the head of the table.

Dean didn't like the way this was shaping up. Why did Sam look so serious and why wasn't he flipping out over Dean's implied accusation? Only one way to find out. He took the chair directly across from Sam and took a deep breath, fortifying himself for the talk. The muscles in his back and neck tightened and he rolled them, a wasted effort since there was no way he would relax until he knew what was going on.

"I had to go to town for an appointment and I'm sorry I didn't get to talk to you about it first. But you were strung out and exhausted and needed some rest." Sam set the jacket on his lap and put his hands on the table. As he began to speak again, his thumb picked at a hangnail on another finger. Dean didn't think his brother was even aware that his nervous ticks were showing. "The demon blood left a little damage behind, at least I think that's what did it. My kidneys aren't working at capacity so I've started dialysis. The doctor said it's too soon to call it kidney failure though."

Bobby snorted and Dean's attention shifted from the weary gaze of his brother to that of his friend. "What?"

The older man took off his baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair before depositing the cap back firmly on his head. "Only reason the doc hasn't called it kidney failure yet is because Sam's numbers haven't been bad enough for three months running. But his kidneys ain't working worth a damn."

It was a lot to take in and Dean was trying to process what was going on. Sam was in kidney failure? Did that mean he was going to…, "What does that mean, exactly? Dialysis. Kidney failure. You're gonna get better, right?"

His voice had risen and without realizing it, so had Dean. He now towered above the table, willing Sam to tell him this was just a joke. That he was fine. Payback for being gone so long or something. But Sam didn't say anything, could only stare at him, stricken.

Now that he was a little rested, Dean pinpointed some of the changes in his brother. Sam's skin didn't have that golden glow that he picked up whenever he was outside; instead his skin was darker, almost had a purple hue. Sam's face was puffy; it was more noticeable around the eyes. The way Sam's clothes hung on him and the hollows in his cheeks…in contrast it looked unnatural how full his face looked around the eyes and forehead.

Sam's hands were still tangled up on the table, picking at the hangnail and sure enough Dean could see even his hands were swollen. His brother suddenly gave a little yelp and leaned over, vigorously massaging his right calf. Bobby shot out a hand and steadied Sam's shoulder and his brother gave him a grateful look, wincing as he rubbed his leg.

Dean walked around the table and knelt next to his brother. He noted where Sam was kneading and brushed his hand aside, using both his own hands to massage the tight muscle. "Sam, come on, you gotta tell me…this kidney thing is just temporary, right?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see that Sam's shoulders were hunched and his head drooped low on his neck; his body language was screaming that he wasn't going to be okay.

His brother cleared his throat, dragging a hand through his too long hair. "The dialysis helps. Right now I go twice a week and it takes about three hours. It seems to do the trick." Sam reached down and stilled Dean's hands, tugged them upward until Dean looked him in the face. "The doctor said right now that's enough to keep me going. Look, I signed a form so you can talk to the doctor yourself."

Dean's knowledge of medicine was geared toward battlefield dressing and triage. He was familiar with the term dialysis and knew what kidney failure was but he needed to know more. He needed Sam to be okay.

Rising to his feet, he grabbed Sam by the biceps and pulled him out of his chair. His brother momentarily stiffened but when Dean drew him into a hug, he relaxed. "I knew I should've killed that bitch when we met her. She was bad news from the start."

At one time, Sam would have argued, maybe tried to defend his actions. This time he whispered a soft, "Yeah," and dropped his head on Dean's shoulder.

Bobby's chair scraped back and he made himself scarce. Dean was past the point of caring who saw him hug his brother.

Every time Dean thought they'd turned a corner, some nifty little surprise reared its ugly head. Kidney failure…there was no way something as mundane as that was going to get its hooks into his brother.

-0-

Dean was gone again, doing reconnaissance with Castiel, and Sam was lonely. Bobby was good company and had even taken to driving Sam to his treatments but he missed his older brother. His sense of humor and his childlike happiness over simple things like a good slice of pie and working on the Impala made him a joy to be around.

The only time Sam wanted to run for cover was when Dean lost his temper. The last time that had happened was right before he left and Sam was still sad that they'd parted on less than good terms.

When Sam's Glomerular Filtration Rate had nosed up again, Dean volunteered to donate a kidney. He'd even gone so far as to meet with Sam's doctor and do some preliminary tests.

A bittersweet feeling filled Sam when he found about Dean's plans – his brother wanted to help him and that meant so much but what the hell was Dean thinking? He was their only hope and he needed to be in top shape when the time arrived to take out Lucifer. Being laid up, minus a kidney, wasn't in anyone's best interest.

The fight had been epic with Dean accusing Sam of not wanting to live and Sam getting down and dirty, telling Dean he wasn't the boss of him and it was Sam's decision. It was the age old battle between Sam's selfishness and Dean wanting to micromanage every aspect of Sam's life.

Sam loved his brother so much for wanting to help him but saving the world was more important in the scheme of things. They'd learned that lesson at the knees of their dad.

Now that Sam continued to worsen and no extra demonic activity was popping up on the radar, he was reconsidering Dean's more than gracious offer. If he wanted to be around to support Dean then they might have to resort to drastic measures.

Sam could have dialysis every day despite the monotony of being hooked up to the machines and tubes for hours on end, and at the rate he was going that was a distinct possibility, but the treatments didn't seem to be working anymore. A donated kidney from a family member would most likely match what his body needed.

He'd even had a heart to heart with Bobby about maybe pursuing a kidney transplant. His friend had pretty much laid it on the line, told him off for being so stubborn, told him that Dean wasn't the only one who wanted him around.

When Dean got back, he'd talk to him.

-0-

Dean returned in a mood – after another fruitless search with Castiel he was wrung out and tired of playing at finding Lucifer. Despite all the doom and gloom predictions of Zachariah, nothing seemed any different than before the Morningstar had appeared.

Sure, demons still played around with humans and other supernatural creatures made themselves known but it was business as usual.

The other thing weighing on his mind was his brother. They'd said some pretty nasty things to each other before Dean had left and he didn't know how to make things better because he meant what he said. He knew Sam didn't take well to being ordered around and that's what their little discussion had degenerated into – Dean telling Sam what he had to do.

There had to be another tact. He just hadn't figured it out yet.

After a hand shake that turned into a hug, Dean asked after his brother, "Sam around? How's he doing?"

Bobby gave a half hearted shrug before answering, "He's not doing so great, has to go five times a week now. That's where he is right now. In fact, let me give him a call."

Much to his surprise, Bobby pulled out a sleek black cell phone and called up a number like an expert. Bobby, who hated new fangled technology. You only had to look around his house to figure out that the hunter was a bit old fashioned. He had a computer but it was big and clunky. His kitchen wall was full of landlines. That his brother had persuaded their friend to use a cell phone was really something.

Then again, Sam always was persuasive. Dean admitted his brother would have made an excellent lawyer.

Dean missed Bobby's conversation, lost in thought about his brother. "Why don't you get cleaned up," the older man said, crinkling his nose, "I'm gonna go get Sam."

Nodding in agreement, Dean walked toward the bathroom, plucking his shirt away from his body and giving it a sniff. He wasn't too ripe. Bobby interrupted him, "Oh, and Dean, I think Sam wants to talk to you about his health. Don't give him a hard time, okay? This isn't easy for him either."

How did Sam manage to do that? He had a way of getting people to watch out for him. Most people assumed Dean could and did take care of himself but there was just something about his brother…shaking it off, Dean headed to the shower.

By the time he had freshened up so as not to offend Bobby's delicate sensibilities, Sam and Bobby were pulling into the patch of mud in front of Bobby's porch. He watched in dismay as the older man made it to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door, helping his brother out. Even from the window, Dean could see Sam wasn't doing well.

Moving like an old man with arthritis, Sam walked slowly up the porch steps. Bobby had a hand on his elbow and Sam wasn't shaking him off. He could hear the older man was giving Sam what for. "Should've stayed there. Dean would have come to ya."

Dean could see the act of walking up the stairs left his brother breathless but despite it, a small smile graced his face. "I'm sorry. They said they'd call me and I wanted to see Dean here, away from that place."

Bobby rolled his eyes but under the good natured ribbing, he could see the older man was worried.

He moved from the window to open the door, unprepared for the sheer joy that lit up Sam's face. "Dean!"

His brother shuffled forward and launched himself into Dean's arms. Dean shouldn't have worried about his reception, it was obvious Sam wasn't holding a grudge.

Dean hugged his brother tight and rubbed his back before pulling away to study Sam's face. His hair had finally been cut although it was still too long for Dean's taste. Large blue-green eyes with that slight tilt stared back but up close Dean could see that the whites were not so much white but yellow. The puffiness was gone but that only meant that he could see how much weight his brother had lost, the skin pulled tight over too sharp cheekbones.

With a crooked smile, Sam punched him on the arm. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

He appreciated the humor but there was a forced breathy note to Sam's voice, like the air was getting pulled from somewhere distant. Dean wanted to get his brother off his feet before he passed out. "Funny. Seems to me I have a collection of pictures of you already – mouth open, catching flies. Like the one with the plastic spoon, I think I still have that somewhere. Come on, let's have a seat."

He hadn't been quick enough. Sam stumbled forward but Dean was ready, absorbing the extra weight into his arms. "Sorry…sorta dizzy…"

His brother was more than dizzy. Dean could hear him working to pull in air. Bracing an arm behind Sam's back, he caught him behind the knees with his other arm and swept him off his feet. Concern turned his voice sharp, "Why didn't they keep him at the hospital? What's wrong with him?"

Bobby's eyes were wide and worried but he could only shrug. "They wanted him to stay but you know your brother, he wanted to talk to you here."

The weight in his arms should have been staggering but it wasn't. Sam had dropped a lot of weight and holding him was no strain at all. Dean couldn't believe this was happening. "Sammy, what were you thinking? We need to get you some help."

His brother's head was nestled against Dean's shoulder but he could see his face, crinkled with upset. "Missed you…wanted…see you…sorry we…fought before…"

The words were stuttering and weak. But the worry moved to panic when Sam began to pant his breaths. His eyes closed to slivers, the yellow whites barely visible. And Sam's body was completely lax now. "Bobby, will you drive? The keys should be in my jacket pocket." With a look at Sam in his arms, "Come on, Sammy, don't give up now."

-0-

Sam was floating and it made him dizzy. Not floating, he was being carried.

The creak of metal and then he was sliding along slick vinyl.

"That's it, steady breaths. I've got you, Sammy."

He was sitting up but that didn't help him draw breath any easier. He was shifted back, his head resting more comfortably now. "I'm sorry about our fight. I know it's your body, it's just…it's hard seeing you like this. You have to get better, you hear me?"

Warm arms folded over him. Dean was holding him. Dean was sorry, too. He could relax now.

Calloused fingers rubbed his cheek. "Hurry, Bobby, he's so cold."

Sam wanted to tell Dean not to worry, that he was okay now. When he opened his mouth the only sound that emerged was a moan.

"It's okay, Sam, you're gonna be okay. Just stay with me, okay? Sammy, hey, stay with me!"

He tried to nod his head. He wanted to stay with Dean.

-0-

Dean didn't know what to do. There was nothing he could do.

Sam's heart and lungs were failing and the doctor wouldn't even consider a kidney transplant with his brother in this condition. Said Sam wouldn't make it.

There were no deals left to be made and although he'd summoned Castiel, the angel had remained absent. Apparently there was nothing to be done except wait.

Dean sucked at waiting.

He sat in the burgundy padded chair next to Sam's bed and watched the ventilator move up and down, listened to it whoosh as it forced air into his brother's lungs.

He remembered holding a dying Sam in his arms at Cold Oak and this feeling, watching Sam deteriorate, was every bit as bad.

A man pushed back the curtain and entered the room. He had dirty blond hair and eyes such a light blue that they seemed to cut right through everything.

He wasn't in scrubs or the white coat he associated with hospital personnel. Dean rose to his feet, sensing danger. "Sit down, Dean."

Pressure pushed him down despite his best efforts. "Relax, I will not hurt your brother. Nor will I harm you. That would displease him. I am simply here to heal him. The next time you see your angelic friends, why not ask them why they did not do this service for your brother…after all, he acted as they wished so they should recompense him for that, is that not right?"

The man's voice had a lilting rise to it which made Dean think of England or Ireland or somewhere like that. But no, this was no man. This was the reason their lives had been blown apart. Lucifer.

The creature moved his hands over Sam's body, up and down, parallel to him but not touching. The thought of this thing being so close to his vulnerable brother filled him with nausea.

"While I heal Samuel, I will give you a little riddle to distract you…if I am the Bringer of Light and Sam guided me back to earth, what does that make him?"

Dean pushed against the invisible bonds holding him to the chair. His muscles flexed and his blood pressure shot up but he remained immobilized. Bile threatened to choke him.

The creature straightened to his full height which easily rivaled Dean's. Still towering over Sam's still form, it smiled at Dean, humor making those light blue eyes twinkle. "I have restored your brother to perfection again. I do hope you will reconsider the company you keep. Samuel needs you more than the heavenly bodies do, at least for now." He turned his attention away from Dean and bent over, pressing lips to Sam's forehead like a mother would kiss a baby. "When you are ready I will come for you, my special child, and we will rule together."

Lucifer strode away from the bed with a lingering look. He paused before Dean, staring at him with such intensity that Dean would have flinched back but for the pressure holding him still. "As the sailors used the North Star to guide them across the ocean all those years ago, so your brother is my Polaris."

TBC