Dean was waiting for Sam in their usual meeting place in front of the school, lost in his thoughts once again. His father seemed to really like Sam too and for that Dean was grateful. He didn't know how his father would react towards his friend because well…he never had a friend before.

There always seemed to be something missing in Dean's life, something that he and is father both needed but he never knew what. He wished he could be closer to John than he was but there had always been this...missing thing that neither of them knew what it was.

But when Sam was with them last night, things just seemed so….right…so good. Dean found himself actually being able to joke and connect with his father for once and also with Sam. And Dean had never seen his father look so…content. John had actually complimented Dean on something other than hunting which was a first and the three of them watched some stupid funny movie.

When Sam finally had to go all three of them seemed glum at the idea. Sam had stayed as long as possible but Dean saw how tired he was getting. He was going to offer the kid to just stay at the motel but then he thought the offer would be kind of weird.

Dean frowned though when he noticed Sam wasn't showing up. Earlier last week he would have just thought Sam not showing up meant he was avoiding him. But now he was almost confident that Sam at least wanted to be his friend and wouldn't ditch him. Dean got an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. What if something had happened to Sam? He decided he'd wait until the bell rang. If Sam didn't show up by then, he'd stop by his foster house.

When the bell did rang and the kids hurried out of the chilly weather Dean was more than freaked out. He had the sudden unstoppable urge for a cigarette and pulled one out of his pack as he rushed over to the Impala. He smoked the whole time he was speeding over to Sam's place and squealed to a park in front of the unkempt house.

Putting out his third cigarette Dean went to open the Impala's door when he noticed someone lying sprawled out on the side of the house.

Sam.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit!

Not even bothering to shut the Impala's door, Dean leapt out and rushed over to the unmoving body of Sam. Upon seeing blood on Sam's head, Dean feared the worst as he quickly knelt beside him.

Sam's skin was a pale grayish color and his lips and fingernails were blue. Dean gently reached out a hand to touch his face but pulled back at the coldness of Sam's skin. Dean first feared Sam was dead. His heart started to pounce like crazy and tears clouded his vision. But then he touched Sam's neck and felt a weak but steady pulse. Relieved, that his friend was still alive, he noticed that Sam was shaking slightly. Dean didn't have to be a genius to know Sam had hypothermia. How long was he out here like this?!

Dean remembered that his father had told him never to jostle a person with hypothermia because it could stop their heart. Seeing as how Sam's shivering was barely noticeable, he most likely passed the stages of beginning mild hypothermia and was probably now at moderate. Intense shivering was supposed to be good, showed that your body was still fighting, but Sam was barely shivering at all.

"Sam? Hey buddy, can you hear me? It's Dean." Sam moaned, showing that he was somewhat conscious. Dean knew he couldn't wait any longer and needed to get Sam warm. With Sam's wheelchair nowhere in sight, Dean scooped him up into his arms as quickly but gently as possible.

Dean hurried to the Impala and carefully placed Sam's freezing body in the back seat so he was lying down. Rushing to the trunk, Dean grabbed the emergency blanket and wrapped it around Sam tightly. Dean then hopped into the driver's seat and cranked up the heat full blast. He wanted to drive fast, but he knew it could injure Sam so he bit his lip as he slowly made his way back to the hotel. One thing was for certain, when he found out who did this he was going to beat the hell out of them.

Sam was placed on Dean's bed in the motel. There was a heated blanket on the back of his neck and under his armpits. Dean had gotten him out of his freezing clothes and gotten Sam into some of his own clothes. But before he put the shirt on Sam, he remembered that his father told him skin-to-skin contact helped the victim warm quicker. Thanking his dad for what he had taught him, Dean took off his own shirt as he crawled into bed next to Sam and pulled the covers over them. He wrapped his arms around his friend and pulled him close in an attempt to save his life.

Shivering upon touching Sam's skin, Dean prayed that Sam would wake up soon. It was important for him to be awake and for Dean to keep him awake. Dean had a thermometer with him that he kept sticking in Sam's mouth to check his temperature. Sam was just so cold! The cut on his head wasn't large at all but it had proved to Dean that someone went to knock out Sam and had purposely left him alone outside. But he couldn't worry about that right now, he had to worry about keeping Sam warm.

Dean turned up the heating pads on Sam's body and ran a hand up and down his back to generate heat as he lay close to him. After twenty more minutes Sam's barely noticeable shivering got more intense. While it scared Dean, he knew it was a good thing that Sam was shivering more. It meant his body temperature was rising and that his hypothermia wasn't as severe. After ten more minutes Sam started to wake.

A low moan escaped Sam's lips that were now regaining their color. Dean put a hand on the side of Sam's face and sighed when he felt Sam's body heat returning.

"Hey, Sammy, can you hear me?" he asked. He checked Sam's temperature and finally settled down as he realized Sam was at least out of death's door.

Sam groaned as he awoke, the top half of his body was so cold unlike his legs which he of course couldn't feel. He didn't know what had happened or where he was. Why was he so cold? But as Sam started to awake more he noticed more things. There was the smell of cigarettes nearby and he felt a presence close to him; someone was also talking to him in a low voice. Connecting those three things together Sam could only come up with one conclusion. Dean. It was the only thing that made sense. But why was he with Dean? Wasn't he supposed to be back at the foster house?

Then suddenly a rush of memories flew by in Sam's head and he gasped. He remembered the older foster kids pushing him out of his wheelchair and dismembering it, he remembered getting hit in the head and being left outside...cold...

"Sammy? You awake buddy?" He heard Dean's kind voice calling out to him and he forced himself to open his eyes despite his fear. He saw Dean lying next to him in a bed, concern all over his face, and noticed that they were in Dean's motel room.

"Dea...?" he whispered, his throat hurting and scratchy.

"Wait, here, drink this Sammy." Dean grabbed a cup of what smelt like hot chocolate with a straw in it. He held Sam's head up as he drank the warm liquid, soothing his throat and his shivering body. "That's it Sammy. Small sips." Dean smiled.

Sam shook his head when he had enough and Dean put the cup back on the nightstand. Sam couldn't help the intense shivers that were wracking his body. "Dean...wh...what ha...happened?" he asked, teeth chattering.

"Shh...it's ok. I'll explain everything," Dean told him and laid back down. Sam didn't hesitate as he cuddled close to Dean, relishing in his warmth. He hoped Dean wouldn't pull away because he thought it was weird. But Dean wrapped his arms around his body and pulled him close. Sam was grateful because he was just so scared and cold right now, he needed Dean's protection.

"When you didn't show up at school, I went to your house to see what was wrong," Dean explained. "And then..." Sam saw how Dean tensed up and swallowed hard, anger and fright in his face. "I...I saw you lying on the ground. You were so cold...I...oh God, I thought you were dead." Dean's voice cracked at the end and when Sam looked up, he saw a single tear roll down his face. Sam didn't know why Dean had been so scared and worried about him. Sure they were friends but...

But when Sam thought about the alternative, if it was he who found Dean like that...oh god. He would've been crying too, if he lost Dean... No, no, Sam couldn't even imagine what would happen then. Even though they had only known each other for two weeks, Sam felt like it was for a lifetime. Dean was his best friend; he was like a big brother to him. Sam had never been so happy in his life before he met Dean. And now that Sam knew what it felt like to be happy and cared for, he didn't want to live without that. He'd rather die.

So maybe Dean felt the same way.

"It's okay. I...I'm still here," Sam said.

"I know. But you have hypothermia. I'm so glad my dad taught me what to do in case something like this happened. But...but someone did this to you Sammy. And I will not, I repeat, not let this happen to you again. I'm going to make sure whoever did this to you knows who they're messin' with because I won't...I can't lose you."

Sam looked up at Dean with wide eyes, still shivering.

"You're the only one that really listens to me, who tries to understand me. You're always there for me," Dean said truthfully.

"Same with you," Sam answered.

Dean smiled and they were both quiet for a bit until he spoke up. "Who did this to you?"

Sam was shocked at the anger that was in Dean's voice. "Dean, don't w...worry about it, it's not..."

"Don't you tell me it's not important because it is. Nothing is more important right now," Dean said sternly.

Sam swallowed; he didn't want to tell Dean because he was afraid Dean would get hurt. Those foster kids were pretty strong. "I don't want you to get hurt," he whispered.

"Sammy, trust me. You don't have to worry about that. I'm not going to get hurt. I've fought men a lot bigger than me and won every time." Sam briefly wondered why Dean seemed to be experienced in fighting. Dean wasn't the type to go around fighting people, but when Sam thought about it...he was probably protecting people. That seemed more of his nature.

"It was the two older foster kids that still live in the house. They...they pick on me all the time but it's never been this bad before. Th...they pushed me from my wheelchair and destroyed it before knocking me out." Sam shook somewhat from coldness and somewhat from horror. He felt Dean hold him a little tighter and he felt better.

"I'll make sure those bastards never lay a finger on you again," Dean informed Sam. "You're not going back to that shit-hole."

"Bu-but Dean, where...I can't stay here..."

"Yes, you're going to," Dean told him and his voice held no room for argument.

"But Dean, what about your dad? And you said you move around a lot. I can't..." Sam sighed sadly. If there was one place he would want to live it was right here with Dean. Who cared if they lived in motels and moved around a lot? Sam would love it as long as he had his friend.

"I'll find a way alright?" Dean said quietly. "You deserve to live with people who care about you."

Sam swallowed and tried to blink back his tears, he wanted to live with Dean so badly, to actually have a family. But he wasn't going to get his hopes up. It was too good to be true.

Sam had fallen asleep a while later and Dean had called John and left a message telling him what had happened. He was fuming with anger but he couldn't go beat those kids yet because he couldn't leave Sammy alone. Sam still had hypothermia and even though his body temperature had increased significantly, he still needed to be kept warm. He needed John to watch over Sam because he knew Sam was going to get a fever from being left out in the cold so long. He just hoped John would get home soon, he was scared.

When John arrived back at the motel about an hour and a half later he found both Dean and Sam lying in one of the beds. When Dean looked up at him, he saw that there were tears in his son's eyes.

"Dad..." Dean muttered, trying to hide the fact that he was about to cry. Dean's face turned red with embarrassment and he quickly got off of the bed and brushed past John to go outside.

"Dean?" Sam called out weakly, hurt written across his face. He thought Dean was upset with him.

"Give me a minute Sam, I' going to go out there and talk with him," John told the young teenager and left after he saw Sam's small nod.

Walking out into the cold, John found Dean leaning up against the wall right next to the door smoking. For once John didn't make a comment about the smoking and instead focused on the tears running down his boy's face.

"Dean, what's the matter son?" he asked, standing next to him.

"He almost died. I almost didn't make it to him in time," Dean stated dryly.

"But he didn't," John assured him. And you did get there in time."

"But...Dad...you should have seen him. I...I thought he was dead! He's like a brother to me and I thought I lost him!" Angrily, Dean pounded his head against the wall.

"Dean..."

"I thought I was going to fail him. Just like I failed my brother." Dean's eyes were lifeless as he stared directly in front of him. Smoking was his only movement as the rest of his body was stock still.

"Dean, for the last time, what happened to your brother was not your fault! You were four years old Dean! You were confused and scared! You tripped!" John wanted to get rid of the self-hatred that was flowing around in his son all the time.

"No! It is my fault!" Dean growled and angrily smashed his finished cigarette with his boot. "I should have been more careful! He was my baby brother for Christ sakes! I was supposed to make sure he was safe!"

"Dean, you were..."

"No dad, I don't want to hear it. I failed him. And I will not make the same mistake with Sam. I'm not going to fail my best friend; I'm going to protect him." Dean stared his father in the eyes before turning and walking away.

"Dean, where are you going?" John called out to his retreating son.

"To go beat those assholes that did this to Sam. You...you'll watch him right?" Dean turned back around a little.

"Of course I will. For what it's worth Dean...if Sam wasn't sick and needed protection I would be right there beside you, kicking their asses."

Dean smiled a little bit before heading back and getting into the Impala. John watched his son speed away and stepped back into the motel.

Closing the door behind him, John looked over at the bed and saw that Sam was crying as well, his fists clutching the blanket that surrounded him.

"Hey...Sam, what's wrong?" John asked attentively.

"He...he's mad at me isn't he?" Sam whimpered.

"What? No Sam! Why would you think Dean's mad at you?" John's heart was melting for this poor boy and he took a few more steps towards the bed.

"He...he left..." Sam whispered

"He left because he didn't want you to see him cry Sam," John tried to reassure the kid.

"What? He...he was crying?" Sam didn't seem to believe that Dean would cry.

"He was scared for you Sam," John tried to explain. You see...Dean likes to blame things on himself a lot."

"Why? This isn't his fault at all!"

"Sam...when Dean was just a kid...his younger brother and mother died in a fire." John realized Sam never knew this by the way the kid's eyes grew huge. "I gave him his baby brother to carry out of the house. But you see, Dean was only four years old and he was so scared. He ended up tripping and dropping his baby brother. Then when I came to grab them, in the panic I thought Dean was still carrying Sammy and I picked Dean up, not realizing he had dropped the baby. Sammy died in the fire and Dean thinks he failed him. He thought he was going to fail you today as well." John hoped that Dean wouldn't be upset with him for telling Sam this but the kid needed to understand why his friend had left and gotten so upset.

"Sammy...was his brother's name? Is that why he calls me Sammy then?" Sam looked hurt and John understood. Sam thought that Dean only wanted him to be his friend because he reminded him of his brother.

"No! Not at all Sam! Dean likes you, he cares about you. He's not using you to take his brother's place." John shook his head. He hadn't even known that Dean called Sam by the nickname. "But he did tell me that you're like a brother to him. You're his best friend and that's where the nickname came from."

"He...he told you that I'm like a brother to him?" Sam asked with a shy smile.

"Yeah he did. That's why he's so worried about you and so angry at the people who did this. That's where he left to - to go after those kids that did this to you."

"Ohh," Sam said. he was fidgeting nervously and John didn't know how to take it.

"You want anything to eat Sam?" he asked.

"Oh, no. I'm fine. I...I shouldn't even be here. I'm taking up space and time. I'm sorry." Sam sighed.

"Hey, you're not taking up any space or time! I like having you here and I sure as hell know Dean does. There's no way we're letting you go back to that foster home. Dean told me everything that happened. You're staying here." John sat on the bed that Sam was in. He didn't know what they were going to do when the time came for another hunt. Where would Sam go? But he didn't want to worry about that right now; he wanted to make the poor kid feel comfortable here. "Do you want to play a game of cards?" he asked Sam.

"Yeah, I'd like that, but..." He trailed off, shyly licking his lips.

"What is it, Sam?" John asked gently. He didn't have a lot of experience with kids, but something was definitely wrong. "You can tell me everything, you know."

"I..." Sam closed his eyes and his face turned red. "I have to go to the bathroom."

John cursed himself for not thinking of Sam's needs. He didn't know if Sam had control over his bladder or had to use a catheter or urinal, but he was about to find out.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Sam." He smiled. "You tell me what I can do to help you and together we'll manage, okay?" He lifted Sam up and carried him over to the bathroom. Gosh, the boy was a lightweight. They had to put some meat on that bony body.

A few minutes later Sam was back in bed. He had asked John to put a chair in the bathroom and told him that he was able to help himself. John had waited outside, impressed by the boy's determination to take care of himself.

"So," he smiled. "Now, what about the card game?"

"I...don't...don't know many card games..." Sam said sadly. John was touched by those sad looking puppy-dog eyes! Sam was just so sweet and kind, no wonder Dean wanted to protect him.

"Don't worry about it. I'll teach you." He started setting up the cards in-between them. "Have you ever heard of the game Rummy?"

Dean sat waiting in the Impala finishing the last of his cigarettes as he watched Sam's house...or rather Sam's old house. He'd need to stop by the local hospital later and buy a wheelchair that Sam would actually fit in. The kid was going to need it but first he was going to take care of these punks.

Finally two loud and rowdy boys that looked about his age came trotting out of the house...with what looked to be pieces of Sam's old wheelchair. Cigarette still in his mouth, Dean clenched his fists as he got out of the Impala. Oh yeah...this was going to be fun...