So, hands up who is happy to have season 11 on our screens? :P

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ALWAYS KEEP FIGHTING

"Ouch!"

"Sam! I told you. Stop putting pressure on that ankle. It needs to stay elevated."

"I'm bored."

"Yeah, wanna be not bored? Count the holes in the wall"

Sam flung himself dramatically back on the bed and let out a deliberately loud sigh. Dean stared at him.

"Dude! You get to laze around in bed all day. Enjoy it while you can. I'd kill for a day or two of doing absolutely nothing."

Sam glared at his brother "The TV is ion the blink and there's not one book in this place."

"Seriously? Not even the Bible?"

"Does it look like the kind of place that would keep the Bible?"

Dean rolled his eyes, feeling both annoyed and amused at his brother's restlessness. Sam was twelve and was already developing a smart attitude... and he was no good at being trapped. Or being told what to do.

"Has Dad been in touch?"

Dean sighed. "No."

"Figures."

"Hey!" Dean's voice was sharp. "You know why. He'd be here if he could."

"Yeah? He leave any food this time? Any money?"

Dean didn't answer. Sam rolled over and faced the wall. Dean watched, a pang of helplessness running through him. He wished he could give Sam some good news. Jesus, he wished that their Dad would at least just give them a sign that he was alive.

"Hey!" Dean sat on the edge of the bed. "You're lucky you have an awesome big brother. Hit me. What do you want to eat? Anything in the world. Watch me- I'l get it."

"McDonalds."

"McDonalds" repeated Dean. How the hell could he swipe McDonalds?

"That's what I want most in the world. Normal kids go all the time."

"You got it" Dean grinned. "Can you hold tight for five minutes?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Really? McDonalds?"

"Yeah. Happy Meal, squirt?"

He dodged the pillow- but only just.

Dean ran a hand over his eyes. He was back in the waiting room. The doctors were doing tests. When had he last slept, eaten, hell, done anything normal?

Always the same. Always the same focus. What else could he do?

The doctor was out quicker that he thought. He had been speaking to Sam... Dean was next to hear the results.

He stood up, towering over the doctor.

"Well?"

"Inconclusive."

Dean turned away... it was better than hitting the guy.

Dean approached the McDonalds, his stomach already rumbling at the smell elevating out the door.

He swiftly checked what he already knew. No way of swiping any food and running here... not unless he wanted to get locked in a deep fat fryer.

He sighed and dug into his pockets. $10. His birthday money.

He'd been saving it.

"Inconclusive? Meaning?"

"Meaning I don't want to speculate before another test is done."

Dean turned and faced the doctor.

"Oh, you're going to speculate... cause I need something damn it."

The doctor sighed.

"There isn't any good news... but I would like to remind you..."

"...that it's inconclusive. Yeah. I know... so... this is... I mean it could be permanent?"

"Quite possibly."

"Thanks for the detailed analysis."

"I told you..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay...so. Where do we go from here?"

"Hey, Sammy!"

Sam was sat up in his bed, a huge smile filling his face.

"No way! Is that..."

"A Big Mac. Yep. Like you wanted."

Sam's face fell slightly. "You got me a Happy Meal?"

"Na, dude. That's mine. I told you- Big Mac with extra fries and extra everything else for you, you little pig."

Dean passed over the food and caught sight of his brother's face. Sam looked... ecstatic. God, a kid shouldn't be so happy about a McDonalds... it shouldn't be such an unlikely concept.

"Here. No plates. I can't be bothered to wash up tonight."

Sam took a huge bite from the burger, ketchup immediately spreading across his face. Dean sat on the end of the bed, opening his Happy Meal. Geez, they didn't put much in the crappy box. Still, it was all he could afford and it was better than nothing.

"Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you get a Happy Meal?"

Dean put a fry into his mouth. "You not heard? They're the latest thing. Just keeping with the times, bro."

Sam stared at him for a while. He held out his burger.

"Here."

Dean looked at him. "You don't want it?"

"No."

Sam had always been a bad liar.

"It's fine, Sammy. Eat up, yeah? I'm cool with this."

Sam shuffled closer to his brother.

"Thanks, Dean."

Dean grinned and ruffled his brothers hair. "You want the toy?"

Dean stood outside the hospital waiting room.

"It's just a theory... there are no real answers yet, so don't stress..."

Nothing sounded good. Nothing sounded positive.

Still... Sammy had been through worse, right?

A few days ago Dean would have killed for this... Sam may not be able to walk but he was here and he was still him.

And that meant everything.

He just had to make Sam see it.

Sam had his eyes closed but Dean knew he wasn't sleeping.

"Hey."

Sam opened his eyes. They met Dean's.

"The doctor told you?" Sam's voice shook.

"He told me the results were inconclusive"

"And when you asked again?"

Dean didn't answer. Sam's eyes filled with tears and Dean watched, just for a second, as his little brother fought with his emotions.

"It would have just been easier..." Sam started and Dean was at his side, leaning over his brother.

"Don't you even think of finishing that sentence. Not to me. Ever. You hear me?"

Sam shook his head, his shoulders shaking as he tried to keep the tears at bay.

"Now... you listen to me, Sam. I want you to cry, scream at the walls, hit me, hell, leave a bruise... but you don't give up. Right?"

"But..."

"No. I ain't going anywhere. If it means I push you round for the rest of your life... then we better get thinking of some new nicknames, right?"

Sam gave a tiny smile and Dean, encouraged pulled his brother into a hug.

"Don't you give up. 'Cause I ain't."