A/N: I forgot to mention this last chapter, but it still applies-I don't pretend to have exact medical knowledge as it would pertain to this situation. Please don't harp on me if I fudged something for plot purposes. However, I am married to a med student, so I did reference him for as much as I could. I do my best.

Luck was on their side for the moment; they only had to wait a few days to schedule the OR. Sam's status as an inpatient and the necessity of the procedure helped their case. Unfortunately, it did nothing to ease their anxieties on the day of.

"It's gonna be fine, Sammy. I'll be waiting on the flipside," Dean rambled, not quite willing to let go of his little brother's shoulder. Sam's eyes were growing wild with fear. Reclined in the hospital bed, he tugged fretfully at his sheets and gown.

"What if…what if something goes wrong? What if it doesn't fix anything? What if—"

"Hey, what I tell you about talking like that? You're coming back out of this, and you're going to wake up, and get better from there. Don't let yourself think any different."

Sam clutched at Dean's arm with his IVed hand. "I'm scared. I don't think I've ever been this scared in my life. Well, I guess there was having to jump voluntarily into Hell…"

Dean ruffled Sam's shaggy brown hair. "You have every right to be. I'm scared too. But we can't let it eat us up. It's just like any other hunt we've been on, you're just…not the one doing the hunting."

A nurse and the anesthesiologist walked in. "I'm sorry, but we need to get started," said the latter.

"Can—can Dean stay until I'm knocked out?" Sam asked weakly. "Please?"

"It's not something we typically allow…but I suppose so. As soon as he's under, though, you'll need to leave. Understand?"

Dean nodded.

The nurse hung a bag next to the fresh dextrose Sam was given not too long ago. Sam focused on Dean, obviously fighting to control his breathing. The heart monitor beeped more and more rapidly. Anxiety tore at Dean's gut.

"Sam, I need you to relax," coaxed the anesthesiologist. "You're in good hands. Deep breath in, and let it out."

Dean kept his hand firmly on Sam's shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sam's heart rate slowly came back down. His hazel eyes remained locked with Dean's green ones. The anesthesiologist took Sam's auxiliary IV port in one hand, and the tube to the new bag in the other.

"You're going to start feeling sleepy here in a second. Don't fight it. It's all going to be over with when you wake up again. And you will wake up. That's my job. Here we go."

Sam's head slipped to the side as his eyes closed, every muscle relaxing into the soft mattress underneath him. Dean reluctantly pulled away.

"We'll take care of him," said the nurse. "Now, we need you to move to the waiting area. Once he's out of surgery, I'll take you to his recovery room."

Tension rendered Dean unable to speak. He watched them wheel his unconscious brother away, to have his head cut into. It took all the effort he possessed to do as the nurse asked and head to the waiting room. This one was noticeably more comfortable than the ER. Plush chairs and couches lined the space, flanked by sleek wooden end tables with magazines. Coffee, tea, and some packaged muffins sat in one corner. Everything focused toward a TV screen, though it was dark at the moment. He supposed this was all to help soothe family members' nerves. Only the receptionist and one other person was there, a woman rocking a two-year-old. She attempted to smile at Dean as he sat.

"Just saw someone off?"

"You could call it that," he answered hoarsely. "I thought my brother and I would be in Minnesota by now, but instead he's…in there."

"I wish I could say the same. This is my son's fourth surgery in two years." The woman blinked back tears, and held her toddler closer. "We've spent a lot of time here. He's battled a heart defect since he was six months old. This is his twin sister."

"I'm so sorry, Ma'am." And Dean truly was. He and Sam were close, all they had left on earth, but he couldn't imagine the pain of bringing a child into the world only to know they're going to die.

"He's taught us to treasure the time that we have," she told him.

A nurse Dean didn't recognize appeared. The woman shifted her sleeping daughter to her hip, and gathered her things. Dean helped her.

"Good luck to your brother. No matter what has happened, or will happen, always cherish the time you've shared. It's the greatest gift you have." She followed the nurse out.

If Dean had been a normal guy, he might have thought he had just met an angel. Except he had dealt with the Apocalypse, and unfortunately, angels weren't as comforting as this ordinary, human woman. Maybe there was hope for this miserable world after all.