A/N- Anybody willing to go to work for me so that I can stay home and work on these chapters? LOL! Any volunteers?

Chapter 11

"…You're blaming yourself," Sam quietly whispered against Dean's shoulder, finally breaking the silence in the hospital room. More silence followed and Sam could feel Dean's shoulders tremble slightly, despite his best effort to hold it back,

"You are, aren't you?"

"No, of course not, Sammy," Dean lied, closing his eyes tightly as he only held onto his brother tighter. He felt Sam nod his head reluctantly against his shoulder and he ran his fingers through Sam's hair carefully before continuing,

"What else do you remember, kiddo?"

Knowing that his older brother was purposely changing the subject, Sam's heart pounded rapidly as he heard Dean return the topic back to himself. The last thing he wanted to do was remember was the past year; everything from being caged, starved, sexually assaulted and then finally blinded. How did one go about really talking about it without having a complete mental breakdown?

"Nothing," He finally replied, hoping Dean would just drop it. With a gentle pull, he pulled out of his brother's grasp and turned his head away again,

"Just drop it…"

Sighing, the older Winchester nodded reluctantly and looked down at his lap,

"Alright, Sammy…"

Awkward silence once more filled the room before Dean reached for his little brother's left hand and opened it to retrieve the amulet still sitting in it limply,

"But just so you're aware, little bro…" He unraveled the amulet and reached forward and slipped it back around his brother's neck, letting it lay against his chest,

"I'm not gonna give up." He watched as Sam's hand trembled slightly as it reached up and grasped the necklace lying there and held onto it tightly,

"I'm not gonna give up on you; whenever you feel that around your neck, just know that I'm nearby, alright?"

Sam's lower lip trembled against his will, wishing with all his might that he could force the tears back but he cursed himself silently as he felt them roll underneath the bandages and down his face. Not saying a word, he allowed his brother to reach out for him once more and pull him back to his chest. All the while, Sam held tightly to the amulet with one hand while the other held onto his brother's shirt in a death grip,

"I'm sorry." He whispered, his voice barely audible.

"None of that," Dean interrupted, stopping his brother from apologizing more,

"I don't want to hear any of that anymore from you."

Pain sliced through Sam like knives as he nodded again, not saying a word. He knew that was what Dean believed with all his heart; he believed that none of it was Sam's fault, and instead it was all on his own shoulders. But the younger Winchester couldn't bring himself to believe any of that. He was permanently damaged for the rest of his life and nothing could change that; it was because of this that Dean's life was now never the same. He had just returned from Purgatory for Pete's sake and now the weight of Sam was on his shoulders once again.

As Dean gently rocked him back and forth like he had when he had found him the other day in the cage, Sam uttered weakly,

"Now what?"

"Now," Dean replied, suddenly remembering the apartment Garth and his friend had promised for he and Sam,

"I take care of you."

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Dean glanced back into Sam's room as he slept restlessly, holding his cell phone up to hear as he waited for an answer. He glanced back up and down the hallways quickly and breathed a sigh of relief at not seeing any hospital staff nearby; if they caught him, he'd be a dead man. After about five rings, a gruff voice answered on the other end of the line,

"Harper."

Dean's eyebrows raised an arch at the answer, suddenly reminded of how Bobby used to answer the phone when he was alive,

"Yes, this is Dean Winchester, I got your number from a mutual friend, Garth-"

"Dean Winchester, Johnny's boy?"

The older brother felt his eyebrows raise even farther up his hairline at that question, taken aback,

"Yeah. You knew my dad then-"

"He was a great friend of mine before he became an asshole, so yeah, I knew him," Michael Harper huffed with a chuckle,

"I take it Garth told you about my offer?" His voice became serious, once again just like Bobby's,

"Garth didn't say much about what happened, but that you desperately needed to relocate because of an accident."

"It was no accident," Dean growled, somehow feeling quite at ease around this fellow; it was just like talking to Bobby Singer all over again,

"It's Sam…"

"John's youngest?" Michael's voice sounded surprised, as if he wasn't expecting this,

"Tell me what happened, boy."

Dean frowned slightly, wanting right then to make sure this was all for real, that this guy was for real. It didn't seem possible that a friend of his father's appeared right when they needed him the most, and he and Sam had never even heard his name mentioned,

"Tell you what, Harper," Dean glanced back down the hallway and just as he saw some nurses making their way his way, he ducked back into Sam's room and headed straight for the bathroom but keeping the door slightly ajar,

"You tell me what my father did for a living and how my mom died, then I'll answer that question."

Michael Harper snorted sarcastically and replied,

"The supernatural, you moron," He snapped,

"And your mother was killed by the Yellow-Eyed Demon because she got in the way. Happy now?"

"Thrilled," Dean grinned sadly, leaning back up against the wall, his eyes never leaving Sam's sleeping form,

"As I said before…It's Sammy."

"And?"

"I'll give you the cliff-notes version, Harper, alright?" Dean tiredly started, closing his eyes,

"My little brother was kidnapped by some hillbilly freak while I was in Purgatory for a year; he went blind and had to have his eyes removed. Are you happy now?" His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke.

Silence filled the other end of the line as Michael appeared to take it all in. Just as Dean was starting to wonder if he had made the worst mistake of his life, the older man sighed in what appeared to be a sad manner and spoke,

"I'm so sorry, boy."

"Yeah," Dean choked out, lifting a hand and wiping away the tears that started to form in his green eyes, refusing to let them fall,

"Me, too…"

With another sigh, Michael seriously continued,

"It looks like you could use more then just a year's worth of free rent, don't you think, Dean?" As he was greeted with silence on the other end of the line, the older hunter continued,

"I'll tell you what. As a favor to Johnny for saving my sorry ass back in the day, you and Sam can stay as long as you need to. You just need to take care of your own selves, like food and whatnot, alright? Everything else is all on me. You can't be out working a full-time job when your brother's in this condition."

Dean chuckled slightly through the tears that refused to stop,

"You sound like my dad…"

Michael snorted again and relied,

"He may have been an asshole, but he was a smart asshole. He talked enough about his sons back in the day long before he croaked and he knew how protective you are of that brother of yours."

"Damn straight," Dean growled, moving slightly forward back into Sam's room as he saw his baby brother slowly starting to move around in the bed, soft moans coming from his mouth,

"Listen, Michael, I'm gonna have to call you back-"

"Of course," He replied,

"Call again when you know when Sam will be released and I'll go over more of the details. Until then, take care of your brother."

Feeling like it was his father speaking those words whenever he left on a hunting trip when they were young, and even as they got older, Dean moved a hand until it was resting on Sam's shoulder and answered,

"It's my job, Harper, what else would I do?"

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Michael Harper hung up the phone with a sigh and shoved the phone aside with a grunt, narrowing his eyes and glaring across the desk at the man standing in front of him,

"There. Done. I hope you're happy now…"

"Oh you have no idea," The dark-haired figure replied with a chuckle, stepping closer and laying his hands on the desk facing the older man,

"Now on to the other part of our deal-"

"What other part of our deal?" Harper snapped,

"You agreed that if I got the Winchester brothers, specifically Sam, then you'd let my granddaughter go. THAT was our deal, remember?"

Tilting his head to the side, the figure smiled dangerously,

"Maybe so," The smile never left his face,

"But you have to remember something. Not everyone tells the truth, you know?:" He held up his hand as Harper started to object,

"Missy Bender was my friend and she gave me strict orders on what to do if anything should ever happen to her at the hands of Sam and Dean Winchester."

Michael Harper glared in outrage, his gut churning with anger at those words,

"So what are you gonna do? You're gonna kill me? Is that it? You're gonna kill my granddaughter-"

"Oh no, that would be way too easy," The figure smirked, folding his arms across his chest,

"I know everything that happened to Sammy Winchester back in the barn during those 10 months; I helped Missy with some of it. Your job, if you chose to accept it, is to get Dean's trust. That shouldn't be too hard, right?"

Michael's nostrils flared with anger as he rose to his feet and stared the other man in the eye,

"And if I chose not to?"

With a shrug, he answered nonchalantly,

"Your granddaughter dies. But then again, she'll die either way, you know-"

"You son of a bitch!" Michael growled, moving around to the other side of the desk and stood in the man's face. Just as he was about to speak more, however, he let out a strangled gasp as he felt a pain pierce his chest. Looking down, he gasped as he saw the knife, still in his gut; he gasped again as he knife dug in deeper into him and he moved his hands to his chest, his hands coming away with nothing but blood on them,

"Son of a bitch…" He mumbled weakly, pain slicing through every fiber of his being before he was unable to stand anymore. His last thoughts only on his granddaughter and what he had just done to betray the Winchester brothers, Michael Harper collapsed to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

With a grin, the figure knelt down and pulled the knife harshly out of the older man's chest and held it up to inspect it,

"Perfect," He smiled widely as his Leviathan form suddenly changed into the very man he had just killed.

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TBC