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"Dean!" His father called to him from the doors of the hospital. Dean had called Bobby about two hours ago and he was once again outside getting some fresh air. Dean knew that there must be some news on his little brother so he made a mad dash to where his dad had gone. He was standing in front of a short middle-aged man in a white coat.

"Doctor?" He panted out. The man gave a confused look.

"This is my son Dean." The man nodded.

"I am Dr. Pellago." He extended his hand for Dean to shake.

"How's my brother?" Dean didn't have time for decencies. He needed to know where his brother was and how he was doing. And he needed to know in that instant.

"Sam is lucky to be alive at this point." The doctor was about to go on when Dean interrupted.

"What do you mean 'lucky to be alive'? He was fine before he passed out!" He was fine. Dean had seen him with his own eyes jump onto the black dog and kill it before it got to them. He surely couldn't have done that if he were that severely injured… Could he?

The doctor seemed to have a lot of patience. He'd need it when dealing with the Winchesters. "Well, he came in with severe lacerations along his abdomen which led to internal bleeding. We had to go in and repair the damage. He coded twice on the table before we could even get him stabilized. We had to give him over a pint of blood to try to make up for the blood lost. To go along with it, he received a concussion, a fractured wrist, dislocated shoulder, and a couple of cracked ribs." Dean's vision started to get blurry around the edges. "He's not out of the woods yet. Sam has gotten an infection from the wounds on his side so we have him on antibiotics. He was slightly hypothermic when you got him here, but that is being taken care of. We are getting him settled into a room in ICU. Since he hit his head pretty hard, we're not sure if he will suffer from any permanent damage. And to be honest… There is a chance Sam still might not survive. It is a miracle in itself that he was able to last this long. We are doing everything we possibly can..." Dr. Pellago trailed off.

The quack obviously didn't know Dean's brother. Sam was a fighter. He'd make it… Unless he didn't want to make it… Dean thought back to what Sam had said before about how he'd almost ended it all. What if Sam didn't want to make it out alive? Was going after that black dog himself some sort of kamikaze mission? Did he go in without the intent of leaving? His father speaking tore him from his dark musings.

"With all due respect, Dr. Pellago… You don't know my son. Sammy is tough; he will pull through, just you wait. I'd ask for a second opinion, but I know I won't need one once my boy wakes up. So you can send someone for us when my son is in his room." His father's confidence helped Dean from thinking too darkly. He could almost feel it radiating from him. His father never even waited for a response from the doctor, he just turned and went back to the seat he'd occupied before. Dean kept his head up and followed his father. He refused to think negatively. Dean needed to be strong for his little brother. He would not fall apart.

He and his father hadn't spoken since they made it to the hospital with the exception of him being called inside to talk to the doctor. Dean was itching to talk to his dad. He needed to know what was going on in his head. "Dad?"

"How could he be so selfish? So irresponsibly stupid?" His father turned his shining eyes over to Dean. He seemed as if he'd aged over the past few hours. His dad seemed so tired and frustrated.

"Selfish?" Dean had remembered how Sam reacted when he'd called him selfish. Remembered what Bobby had said to him and now his dad needed to hear it. "Sam is the farthest thing from selfish, Dad! Don't you understand? He-"

"Dean! John!" Bobby's voice carried over the dwindling crowd of people. He stood and greeted his friend with a fierce hug. Dean was never so happy to see Bobby in his life.

"You… Uh. Did you bring…?" Dean didn't exactly want his father to know that he'd asked Bobby to break into their motel room just to grab Sam's duffle. He noticed Bobby wasn't carrying it with him and was disappointed he didn't have it.

Bobby picked up on the fact that he didn't want his dad to know about Sam's bag. He handed him his truck keys and pulled him into another small hug, just long enough to whisper, "It's in the back ya idjit. I'm old, not stupid." Dean smiled.

"You two probably have a lot to go over… I'm going to take a walk around the block to clear my head. Call my cell with any news, okay?" Dean spoke mostly to his dad. Bobby already knew where he was going.

His father seemed confused. "We're going to be able to go see Sam soon… Why would you go out now?"

Dean stuttered, he couldn't think of any good reason for him to bail out before he could see Sam. Bobby stepped in, seeing his distress. "John, can't you see the boy is shaken up? He just needs a few minutes to get his thoughts together before he can see Sam. Y'all have been through a hell of a lot. Cut 'em some slack. We'll call him when Sam's ready to have visitors." Bobby risked a wink in Dean's direction. "Anyway. I need to know what's going on with Sam and I know he won't want to listen to that again…"

"Guess you're right… Well, the doctor said that…" His father began. Dean used that moment to step out and get to Bobby's truck. He really owed him one, though he knew that Bobby would never hold him to it. Bobby was too good a man to do that, especially to family.

Dean made his way through the early morning light to the rusty old pick up truck. It was easy enough to spot. He slowed his pace as he approached the truck. His stomach was turning in knots. Dean knew what he was about to read and the nerves kicked into high gear. Brushing the chipped, copper colored paint, Dean reached into the bed of the truck and heaved up Sam's duffle bag. He then unlocked the driver's side door and hopped in, dropping Sam's bag on the seat next to him and shutting the door.

Running a hand down his face, he carefully unzipped Sam's bag so slowly someone might have thought he were opening a bomb. The first thing he saw was a plain white shirt, digging deeper he found what he was searching for. And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie. That was the book he had bought his brother for his fourteenth birthday. He remembered how much Sam enjoyed reading the book for school, but he was getting picked on for having a ratty second-hand book. So for his birthday, Dean went out and bought him a new edition of it. Sam had been so happy…

He grabbed the book by the binding and turned it so that he could see if anything would fall out. An old, worn piece of paper fell onto his lap. He set the book aside and gently pinched up the note. It was grayed and faded, the edges ripped. The paper was soft and wrinkled, as if folded and unfolded hundreds of times. That worried him, knowing Sam said he'd look at the letter whenever he felt like he might do something to himself. With a deep breath, he gingerly opened the letter and stared at his brother's handwriting. The words were neatly written, unlike his usual scrawl. Dean bit down on his lip and began to read the words his baby brother had written as his last goodbye to him so long ago.

Dean,

I know that this is going to be hard for you to understand. I wish that… Honestly, I wish I never even existed. I need you to know that I wanted none of this. I never wanted this life, so why do I have to endure it? You and dad will be fine without me around. Actually, I bet you will be better off. Dad never wanted me anyway. You were the son he wanted. I was just some kid who tagged along with you two that he could never get rid of. Well, I'm doing that part for him. I'll get rid of myself. No matter what I do, I will never be good enough for him. I will never be what he wants, so I don't even know why I try. And damn it Dean, I try so hard… I tried so hard. I'm done trying, it doesn't matter anyway… I guess Dad has every right to hate me since it's my fault Mom's dead. If I were never born, none of this would have happened and the three of you would have lived a long and happy life. I know that we never say this… I just want you to know that I love you, Dean. You're the best big brother anyone could ever ask for, and I'm sorry you were saddled with me. I know you're going to end up letting Dad read this… I'm sure he'll hate me even more for doing this. But I just can't take this feeling anymore. This feeling of being worthless… It's tearing me apart from the inside and I'm not strong enough to keep it together anymore. None of this is your fault, Dean. I want you to remember that… And I also want you to remember that this is for the best.

I'm sorry,

Sam.

Dean wiped furiously at his leaking eyes. He had never known Sam felt that way. Sam had never even shown signs of being depressed! He clutched the letter in his hands and let his head fall against the window releasing choked sobs. His baby brother wanted to kill himself and he's been too blind to see his pain. Awful images flashed through Dean's head. He could see Sam's lifeless body lying broken in the tub of some shitty motel bathroom soaked in blood, the gun still in his limp hand. He could see himself working feverishly to revive his brother, reaching for the note he had in his hands and seeing it splattered with blood.

He shook his head, banishing the images from his mind. He vowed at that moment, that he would never let Sam feel the way he did when he wrote that letter. No matter what Sam said, he knew it was his fault… Maybe not all his fault, but he was to blame nonetheless. Dean read and reread the note, memorizing each word. The sudden shrill ring from his cell made him flinch.

"Y-yeah?" His voice thick.

"Sam's in his room, they're bringing us there now." Bobby stated. Dean slammed the phone shut and shoved the paper into his pocket.

"I'm coming, Sammy."

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The nurse was waiting with his dad and Bobby. Dean joined the group and kept his head down. His father didn't notice, but Bobby placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder as they stepped into the elevator that would bring them to Sam.

"Now, I would just like to let you know that he does have oxygen to help his breathing. He had to be intubated earlier, but he just recently started breathing on his own. That is a good sign. Also, be careful of his left arm and his right side. If you need anything, don't hesitate to press the call button. Since he's in ICU, there is only supposed to be one person in at a time. The doctor thinks that it might be good for Sam to have all of you around, so he made a special exception for you." She smiled and went on her way.

Dean didn't even hesitate. The second the nurse walked away, Dean was inside, sitting next to Sam. He didn't even care that the other two men saw him pull Sam's hand into his own. "Sammy? Sam, you have to wake up now little brother. I need you… And I found what you told Bobby about… in the book I got you." Tears pricked behind his eyes and he didn't bother stopping them from falling. "Please, Sammy. Please. You saved us, and a lot of other people too. You were reckless and I never want you to put yourself in danger like that again…" He lightly scolded. "But I need you to wake up so I can… So I can tell you how proud I am of you."

An indignant snort sounded from the doorway. Dean turned to see his father's dark eyes watching his two sons. "Proud?"

"Yes, proud. He saved both our asses." Dean scowled.

"Proud for almost getting himself killed to prove a point? You're proud of him for being a selfish, reckless child?" His father raised his eyebrows, challenging him.

Dean stood. "Yes I am! Damn it. Can he ever do anything right by you? Why is everything he does wrong? Do you even hear yourself when you're talking?"

His dad stood up straighter. "Don't take that tone with me Dean Winchester."

Dean ground his teeth together. "Now everybody needs to calm down before we get our fool asses kicked out of here. We are here for Sam." Bobby was yet again the voice of reason between the Winchesters. Each stood down from their defensive posture but the fire never left their eyes. "John, maybe you should go cool off. I'll come get ya if there's anything new." Bobby practically shoved his dad toward the door.

"Here." Dean reached into his pocket and handed his father Sam's note. He knew it was meant for him, but also knew his father needed to read it. He felt justified in the fact that in the letter, Sam said that he knew he'd let his dad read it.

His father huffed. "What's this?" He held the paper in his hand.

"Read it and then come back after you think about some shit. Just so you know, it's almost two years old." Dean turned away from him and kept his attention on his little brother. He could hear his father's footsteps dissolve down the hall and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"What was that?" Bobby's gentle voice calmed him a fraction.

"A suicide note Sam wrote a while back… He wanted me to read it just incase he didn't survive the hunt." And there's still a chance he might not survive… Dean added to himself. "I'm hoping it'll knock some sense into that hard head of his."

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Damn, Dean was getting on his nerves. He'd have a good mind to give the boy a nice whack upside his head. John knew he was being hard on Sam, but that was only because he loved him. He always wanted Sam to be able to protect himself, but what he did was beyond reckless. If he didn't know better, he'd say Sam was trying to go and get his dumb ass killed. Sure he protected himself and Dean, but at what cost? He'd taught him better than that.

John looked at the withered paper his son had handed him. He'd walked down to the small cafeteria to grab a cup of coffee, so he might as well see what was inside this note. The first thing he noticed was that the letter was addressed to Dean. So why did he give it to him then? He could also make out that it was in Sam's handwriting, though it was not as messily written. John began reading the note.

Though usually, John might have gotten angry with Sam for trying to do something so stupid… Once he was finished reading, John Winchester, hardened hunter that he was… cried. He damn near bawled at the words his youngest son had written. The thought of not having his baby boy with him was beyond words.

Dean's words rang in his head, "Just so you know, it's almost two years old." He never knew how much he'd neglected his son… John never wanted Sam to feel worthless or unwanted. He just wanted Sam to be able to protect himself when he wasn't able to protect him. His own son wanted to kill himself because he thought he wasn't wanted by his father… What had he done?

Well, John wasn't going to let this happen. He would let his son know when he'd done well and treat him like any decent father would. Mary would be so disappointed that he'd let their son down. How he'd let himself get this way, he'll never know. He needed to have a serious talk with Sam about some of the most worrying things he'd read. Especially about how he blamed himself for Mary's death… It wasn't his fault; he shouldn't be carrying that guilt around with him.

Most importantly of all… John had to let Sam know that he wanted him. He and Mary always wanted to have another child and Sammy was more than he could ask for. Sure they were always at each other's throats, but he would never give him up. Not for anything.

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I hope everyone liked this chapter. It was so difficult for me to write! Please review.