Okay, I have another chapter for you all. I am overwhelmed once again at the response I've received for this story. Thank you all so much. Enjoy.

Cindy.

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Sam liked it here. Here he wasn't in pain and he didn't have some psycho perv touching him. He could recall that his family hated him, but here it just didn't seem to matter. Sam wanted to stay here where he could remain numb to everything that hurt him, but these faraway voices kept talking to him, keeping him from sinking further into the abyss, further away from the pain. And now the numbness was beginning to fade and was being replaced with dull pain. He wished those voices would just leave him alone. He felt he should know whom they belonged to and had even thought they sounded somewhat like his family, but that was ridiculous. Dad and his brothers didn't know where he was and even if they did, they certainly wouldn't be there talking to him. His family never talked to him. They talked at him, but never to him.

Sam couldn't quite make out what the voices were saying, but he could sense the weariness and desperation behind the unknown words. Why were they talking to him? Didn't they have someone else they could bug? The dull pain was fast becoming an aching throb and the voices were getting more insistant. Sam was starting to pick out some of the words now.

'Wake up S..my'

'...need you...up'

"No! I don't want to wake up!" Sam thought. "Go bother someone else!"

'm sorry Sammy.'

"What? Is that Dean?" Sam strained to hear now, certain the voice belonged to his brother. But it couldn't be Dean. Dean didn't apologize to anyone, especially to him. Maybe it was a demon trying to trick him. That made more sense than Dean telling him he was sorry. But why would a demon be trying to make him think Dean was sorry?

'Sam, we need you. Please wake up.'

"Dad? No way, Dad doesn't need me. None of them need me." Now Sam was really confused. It sounded like his dad, but Sam knew for a fact that he wasn't needed. His dad made sure he knew that every time he told him what a screw up he was and when he told him he would never measure up to his brothers. But God, it sounded like his dad. And what he wouldn't give to find out his family needed him. That his dad needed him.

The pain was building in Sam's head as he strained to hear and understand the voices, now nearly convinced that they did belong to his family. He fought his way to the surface of the emptiness he was drowning in, even though the closer he got to the surface, the greater the pain became.

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Dean leaned against the bed, his weary eyes fixed on Sam's still lax face. He, Daniel and John had been here talking to Sam, watching over him for nearly seven hours now and still Sam slept on. 'The kid's stubborn even in unconsciousness,' Dean thought absently. He held Sam's hand in his, unwilling to break that connection for even a moment. Daniel sat to Dean's left, his hand resting on Sam's leg. John was on the other side of the bed, his fingers gently brushing through Sam's hair above the bandages.

"Wake up Sammy," Daniel softly pled as he gingerly squeezed Sam's leg. "We need you to wake up."

Dean glanced at Daniel with tired, sad eyes then turned back to Sam. He stood from his chair and leaned over the rail before speaking quietly into Sam's ear. "I'm sorry Sammy."

Dean flinched a little as he felt a slight twitch in Sam's fingers. He jerked his eyes to John who had also risen as he too had noticed a slight movement. Daniel followed the men and rose, his eyes searching Sam's face for a sign that he was indeed waking up. John looked to his two older sons, then back to his youngest.

"Sam, we need you. Please wake up," he pled, a slight quiver in his voice.

Sam's eyes began to move under his lids, and his head began to slightly rock from side to side. The three men watched, whispering words of encouragement as Sam slowly fought his way to the waking world. Without warning, his eyes flew open wide, the right one restricted somewhat by his still swollen face.

The moment his eyes opened, Sam began to gag and choke on the vent tube. Panic filled his eyes as they darted from one man to the next, pleading with them to help him. He tried reaching up to pull the tube out, but between his utter lack of strength and his father and brother holding his hands down, he was unable to do anything but panic. Then he heard a soothing voice, coaxing him to calm down.

"Sammy, it's okay. Calm down, it's helping you to breathe. Just calm down and the doctor will take it out."

Sam's eyes turned to the voice, and he began to calm when he saw Dean's concerned face peering at him. He caught movement beside Dean and was just able to catch a glimpse of Daniel as he rushed to the door to call for help. Sam turned his eyes back to Dean, listening to his voice instructing him to let the machine do the work for him. He could hear another voice on the other side of him, but couldn't tear his eyes away from his brother. A soft caress on his face forced him to turn and his eyes fell on his dad's relieved and worn face, a smile curving his lips as he spoke.

"God Sam, you had us so scared. We've been so worried. We thought we lost you son."

Sam stared at John, then his attention was jerked away when a strange man pushed past his dad, causing Sam to press into the bed in fear. The man leaned over him and Sam once again began to panic. Daniel's voice cut through the panic, it's gentleness immediately calming him.

"It's okay Sam. This is your doctor. He's going to take out the tube. Calm down little brother."

"Sam, I'm Dr. Drake. I'm going to remove your breathing tube but you need to relax. Can you do that for me?" the doctor asked kindly.

Sam slowly nodded and closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow it's frantic pace.

"Okay, that's good Sam. Now, when I say to, I need you to cough out as I pull out the tube. Do you understand Sam?"

Sam opened his eyes and nodded. He waited for the doctor to be ready and when he gave the go ahead, Sam coughed out and Dr. Drake pulled the tube from his throat. Sam broke into a coughing, gagging fit. Flecks of blood speckled the sheets around him as well as his face. The three older Winchesters glared at the doctor in shock.

"What's that doc? Is he okay?" Daniel spat, worry creasing his forehead.

"It's perfectly normal. Just irritation in his throat from the breathing tube," Dr. Drake said as he began an examination of the still coughing Sam.

As the doctor went to examine Sam's eyes, Sam moaned, trying to roll to his side. "Sick..." he croaked before he began to heave bile and fluid all over his chest. Dr. Drake gently rolled him to the side as he continued to heave and Dean rubbed circles on his back in a comforting motion. Finally, the retching stopped and Dr. Drake gently rolled Sam back onto his back. He noted Sam's pale, sweat soaked face and placed his hand lightly on Sam's forehead.

"You're a little warm Sam. Now you rest and I'll get a nurse to come in and clean you and the bed up, then we'll get you something for that fever. Oh, and how about I take out that feeding tube?"

Sam weakly reached up, his fingers touching the tube running from his nose. He slowly nodded, then closed his eyes once more.

"Okay, this is going to be a little uncomfortable, but nothing like the breathing tube."

Dr. Drake grasped the tube then pulled it from Sam's nose in a steady, even line. Sam winced slightly then relaxed when the tube was free. He sank into his pillow, his brow furrowing as he squeezed his eyes shut. Dr. Drake looked at him with concern.

"Are you in a lot of pain Sam?"

Sam nodded and swallowed, wincing at the pain in his throat.

"Where do you hurt?" John asked, rubbing his youngest's arm.

"M'head," Sam rasped.

"Is that your only pain Sam?" Dr. Drake asked.

"No...mmm...'vry where," Sam moaned as all his injuries began to make themselves known.

"Okay. I'll get the nurse in here with some fever reducer and something for the pain. How's that sound?"

Sam groaned and nodded his head as tears squeezed out from his tightly shut eyes. His brothers and father eyed Sam with concern, then Dean turned to the doctor.

"Please hurry, he's in so much pain. Do something!" he cried.

"It'll only be a few minutes Dean," the doctor said then hurried from the room to give the instructions to the nurse in charge of Sam's care.

Daniel moved to Sam's side, taking his hand gently. "It's okay Sammy. We'll get you some medicine real soon and you'll feel better."

Sam opened his eyes and smiled softly at his oldest brother, then hissed through clenched teeth as a sharp jab of pain lanced through his head. He writhed on the bed, bringing tears to the eyes of the older Winchesters. Finally, the nurse arrived with two syringes in hand and proceeded to inject them into Sam's IV line, then she went about removing Sam's soiled gown and the upper sheets, replacing them with clean ones. Within seconds Sam had ceased writhing and had settled more comfortably into the bed. As his eyes began to close, he turned to John and smiled tiredly then whispered, "I'm sorry Daddy."

John took Sam's hand and gently replied, "Sorry for what Sammy?"

"I'm not like Dean and Daniel. Umm...I'm me. Not who you want Dad, and...mmm...'m sorry," Sam slurred as the pain medication pulled him further under.

"Oh Sammy, I don't want you to be like Dean and Daniel. I'm sorry I made you feel that way," John replied sadly, but realized that Sam was deep in sleep. He collapsed into his chair and dropped his face into his hands. He looked up to Daniel and Dean, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"I don't want him to be like you. I just want him safe. He's so...good. He can't see the bad in people, in the world. I want him to be Sam, but I want him to be safe. I can't lose him."

"Neither can we Dad, and we won't," Daniel said, once again taking his seat next to the bed. Dean sat too, his eyes trailing from John to Sam.

"Dad, Sam's always gonna be...Sam. And, he's tougher than any of us knew. He saved himself, I'm sure of that. Between all of us, we'll keep him safe. We just need to make him believe it's okay for him to be...him. That we want him to be the same old Sam."

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Soooooo?

Cindy.