Standard Disclaimers apply.

Okay, does anybody else feel like they won the lottery this morning? I tried to post this chapter on Thursday and I am so glad that the site is back up.

Thank you for all the people that reviewed my story. It makes me happy to know that people are reading the story.

Well, on with the next chapter...

Dean had been searching for about forty-five minutes, for any news articles on the girl who had originally killed herself in that building. He hadn't gotten much in the way of why this would be happening or how she was doing it, because his attention kept on being drawn to the bathroom door his brother was behind. As soon as they got back to the hotel, Sammy had locked himself in there. For a while, Dean had been able to convince himself that he was taking a bath, but the nagging feeling that something was wrong wasn't being shaken. Following the feeling that he was having, Dean went over to the door. That girl, Amanda, came back to his thoughts, and the adrenaline pumping through his body made him able to push the door in with little resistance. She had killed herself away from the site, by slashing her wrists. Where were Sammy's meds? The first thing that Dean saw was his brother on the floor. He was convulsing, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"Sammy!" He yelled, rushing to come to his brother's side. The pill bottles were on the sink, and as he picked them up, he saw that they were empty. It took every bit of willpower that he had to pull himself from his brother and run to the table where he had left his cell phone. He dialed 911, and waited while they answered.

"Emergency 911, what's your emergency?" The female voice on the other end of the phone answered.

"This is Dean Johnson. You have to come quick. I'm at the Thunderbird Hotel. My brother, Sam, has overdosed on some prescription medications. He's having convulsions. Please, you got to come. I don't know..." Dean's voice shook with emotion. He had never felt this much stress, even when Sam was laying in that hospital bed. Then, he had known somewhere in his heart that they would help him, would bring him back. This time, the paramedics might not even get to them in time. His baby brother could very well die on the cold tile floor in the bathroom of some random hotel.

"It's gonna be okay, Sammy. I'm gonna get you help. Everything's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. They're gonna come and help you." Dean was on the verge of crying, the fear tearing him up in a way nothing else could. His baby brother had chosen this. Checking his brother's breathing again to make sure that he hadn't checked out, he noticed that it was getting more ragged, sounded harder for him to get the breath into his lungs. He knelt down on the floor, and tilted Sam's head back, held his nose, and breathed into his mouth. They continued this way, until the door was being opened, and the paramedics took over, giving him oxygen through a bag.

Dean leaned back on the wall, watching Sammy, not feeling anything in his own body. This couldn't be happening. He knew that there were other people who had gone down that hallway, and nothing had happened to them, but that the people who were vulnerable had done this. Sam was still weak, still trying to recover both physically and emotionally from the illness, and he shouldn't have let his guard down. He should have been watching his little brother. Wasn't that what he had always been taught to do? This time, he had neglected his responsibility, and Sammy was going to pay the price. He heard the medics talking through the deep haze that had taken over, and it didn't sound good. They were trying to get him on a stretcher and to the hospital as quickly as possible, but he was having a second seizure, and Dean could feel himself hyperventilating. The tears escaped from his eyes, and he felt absolutely lost.

Someone was grabbing his arm, pulling him from the room, and trying to talk to him. "Son? Can you hear me? Son, we need to know what happened. How long ago did he take the pills? Are these the only ones? We need to know, so that we can help him!" A middle aged man with red-hair stood before him, and only about half the words he said were really coming through to Dean.

He heard the man tell him that they needed the information so that they could know how to help Sammy, though. Struggling to find the words, even though his own throat was closing up, he stammered out what he thought was needed. "He...we... went over to that dorm. He seemed fine. We came back and he just- he locked himself in the bathroom, and I didn't try to stop him. I didn't know what he was going to do. I just thought..."

The boy's voice trailed off, and Jeff, the paramedic, knew he had to get him talking again. They didn't have all the information yet to help this kid's brother, and so he tried again. "How long ago did he take the pills? Are they the only ones?"

Dean shook himself from his thoughts, and looked at the man. "I don't... about an hour. He has Leukemia. He's in remission. Those pills were supposed to help him. They were supposed to make him better."

"Are the ones on the sink the only ones that he took?"

"Yes, those are all of them. This is a mistake. He just was probably tired and took too many." Dean tried to reason. He knew that this was not going to end well, and the more he made it seem like an accident, the less chance his brother had of not being locked up in a psych ward. In his mind, he knew it wasn't an accident, but he also knew that Sam would never have done this if he weren't being controlled by that bitch. Sammy needed to be okay.

Jeff was about to say something to the distraught young man standing in front of him, when they saw the stretcher carrying Sam being brought out. Dean tried to ride in the back of the ambulance, but was held back by one of the paramedics. "Sorry son, you can't ride back here. Take your own car and meet us there."

Dean was incredulous, and he stumbled back. Aside from the time that Sam had spent in college, this was the most cut off he had ever been from his brother. The doors to the ambulance closed, and it sped away, sirens blaring in the night. Dean was alone.

Hope you liked the chapter. Please feel free to leave whatever kind of review you would like: praise, constructive criticism, or question. I am entirely open to constructive criticism because it's a writer's best friend. It helps show us where we can improve.