A/N: My apologies for the long delay in updating. Real life had not been kind as of late and just seems to get in the way at the most inopportune times. You know what they say about making lemonade when life throws you lemons? I say, keep in mind that lemonade will rot your teeth faster than a can of Coke…and don't even start me on the tainted tomatoes! Anyway, please enjoy!!

Chapter 21

If the blindingly bright light boring into his skull wasn't enough to wake him up, the constant, repetitive droning of his own name in his ears over and over again as he tried to sleep most definitely had done the trick; the voice it spoke to him in alternating between softly sweet and gruffly anxious. Forcing the eyelid someone was so rudely holding open that were supposed to be covering the current victim of a vicious penlight assault closed; he realized that the throbbing in his head had nothing to do with the mini laser beam someone was shooting into it. No, that headache had probably been there long before the voices nagging at him had tried dragging him out of his blissful slumber that had left him totally and blessedly unawares, even if it was only temporary.

"Sam," that sweetly innocuous voice spoke again and when Sam thought he recognized it, he opened one eye, then the other, and tried clearing the haze out to look at Sophia's gentle features barely inches from his own. "Good, you're awake. How do you feel?"

She spoke soothingly to him and Sam couldn't help but be astonished at her amazingly calm bedside manner. 'Bedside manner… what am I doing in bed? And why am I wearing a hospital gown?' He asked himself, his head still in a fog as his eyes drifted over to Bobby's worried face and noticing for the first time that he was no longer wearing his blood stained clothes. 'Blood … where did all that blood come from?' Yet another question he couldn't quite figure out at the moment as his head continued beating to the rhythm of its own drum.

"What happened?" He finally decided to question as he brought his heavy hand up to his forehead to rub at it, but wincing when his fingers found not just skin but a rather oversized goose egg with what felt like a couple stitches dead center of it at his hairline and he couldn't hide his growing frown.

"You hit your head pretty hard when you passed out Sam, split it open enough to warrant a stitch or two, but nothing too serious," Sophia told him in that mellow tone she always seemed to be able to speak in.

'Mellow tone… she didn't have such a mellow tone earlier. No, she was yelling at someone before I … yelling something about crashing and then…Dean, wait a minute, she was yelling something about Dean… no, he can't be… "Oh god, where's Dean? Where's my brother?" He nearly leapt from the bed when the memories finally bombarded his already pounding skull, the sounds of the flat-lined heart monitor attached to his brother's chest echoing harshly in his head and it took nearly all the strength Bobby had to force him back down again, the sudden back and forth movement making him somewhat dizzy enough to readily comply.

"Relax Sam, he's still alive," the gruff voiced, older hunter told the slightly panicked younger man who started to relax slightly when he felt Bobby's strong hand practically pinning him to the bed underneath him. The words were exactly what he wanted to hear as he let out a relieved sigh, but the faces that went along with them weren't as hopeful and he just decided it would be better to close his eyes again; not only because the room was spinning slightly but because he couldn't stand to see the long looks that stared back at him like a man on death row ready to take his final walk.

"You have a slight concussion from that instrument table you took out with you on your way down to the floor and you were really starting to get dehydrated. When was the last time you ate, drank, or slept Sam?"

"I can't remember. The last few days have all blended together into one really long one," he answered her and if that wasn't the closest he'd ever come to the truth in regards to talking to her, he didn't know what was. "How is he? How is Dean? Can I see him? Please?"

The near begging tone he unleashed his barrage of pleas for his brother to her in with almost broke Sophia's heart when she heard them, all the emotional agony Sam was feeling painfully evident in his words alone and equal only to the physical anguish his brother was going through at the very same time. She dreaded having to tell him what she knew so far, but she also knew she had no choice. She had taken on this burden and she fully planned on seeing it through until the end.

"Sam, your brother's still up in surgery…" she tried to explain, not getting very far on her first attempt.

"What do you mean 'still' up in surgery? How long has he been in surgery? Surgery for what?" He cut 

her off after she had barely finishing one sentence and Bobby tried to remain calm as Sam's anxiety started to rise.

"Calm down and let her explain everything Sam," Bobby half growled when he saw Sam's panic start to show again, his lack of patience rendering him nearly unable to listen. The lack of windows in the room only seemed to fuel his fears even more when he realized he had no concept of time whatsoever anymore.

"How long have I been sleeping? What the hell time is it anyway?" He demanded to know and this time it was Bobby's turn to answer a question.

"Let's just say that if it was summer, the birds would be chirping along with the sunrise and leave it at that. Now, do you wanna get some answers to all your questions from the pretty lady that is very patiently trying to give them to you or do you wanna keep ignoring the only person that can tell you how your brother is like she ain't even there just because you need to hear yourself talk?" Bobby knew what he had said was harsh, but he also knew that sometimes it was the only way to get through to Sam's stubborn mind. All the Winchesters were alike in varying degrees, and Bobby was convinced at times that Sam was by far the worst of the three.

It didn't take Sam long to calculate how much sleep he must have gotten when he heard what Bobby had just told him and counting the hours that must have elapsed between the time they had climbed from the ambulance at nearly five in the afternoon the day before, he slumped back down hard into the bed and closed his eyes again, this time in total defeat and ready to listen. "Twelve hours? I've been out for twelve hours?" He asked, guessing at the time and vaguely remembering when the sun had risen the day they started down the road on this fated trip to make his calculations.

"Damn near twelve," Bobby confirmed what Sam had already seemed to figure out on his own.

"Has Dean been in surgery that long?" He had to ask, his concern growing. Why would Dean need to be in surgery that long in the first place?

"No Sam, he hasn't," Sophia quelled Sam's concerns with just four words. "We couldn't do anything until we got his temperature down from the 106 it spiked to after he, umm …" she paused for a minute, not really sure what words to use. She didn't need try and sugarcoat it though; Sam already knew what she was going to say.

"After he arrested again… I know, I remember that much before I hit my head."

She gave him a warm, caring smile when she saw the sadness and fear held in check behind his eyes and just kept going now that he seemed to be actually listening. "Then you don't need me to remind you just how sick your brother really is, do you?"

She continued with her explanation when Sam just shook his head in response. "It took us nearly five hours to bring his fever down to just under 104 and I really wanted it a little lower then that before we began but I just couldn't wait anymore. He has multiple rib fractures, some of which are broken in more than one place and a pretty nasty fracture of the sternum that was preventing his lungs from properly expanding in his ribcage, which I thought was why he didn't start breathing on his own again after…well, you know. I decided to stabilize the ribs with a few plates and screws to take some of the strain off his lungs in the hopes that he'd start breathing on his own again."

"Let me guess… it didn't work, right?" Sam asked her when he saw her eyes look quickly away from his for the briefest of moments before holding his gaze again, Sam's hunter instincts helping him to read her like a complex novel in the short time he had known her.

"It helped a little. Even though he's still not breathing on his own, at least his lungs are getting as much oxygen in them as they can take," she said in a rather hopeful tone that made him feel a little better. She was an honest doctor and for once, Sam found that refreshing.

"Which probably isn't much considering all that shit floating around in them," Sam commented and once again she was surprised at how quickly he figured things out all on his own.

"His body is producing phlegm almost faster then we can clear it out but we get as much of it as we can and hopefully once the antibiotics start killing off that infection the mucus production will start to taper off a little and his lungs will finally start to heal. Until that happens though, we're going to have to do most of his breathing for him. His lungs are just too weak and too damaged to handle that burden on their own and once they stopped working, they were too tired to start up again," she paused in her thoughts for a long moment and for a second Sam thought she was done explaining everything, but the second he opened his mouth to ask a question, she started back up again. "Since we already had him prepped for surgery, I had an orthopedic surgeon take a good look at that nasty hand wound. The cut was deep enough to sever the flexor tendons in two of his fingers, which is what they're still working on now."



"How much longer is that going to take?" Sam finally asked when her pause this time seemed to indicate she was actually finished as she stared at him with those meaningful green eyes, never once asking a question about how the hand injury occurred in the first place. Sam already knew how much damage Dean had done to that hand before anyone had to tell him though and ignored the relaying of that information, his concern with solely focused on whether or not Dean would live through the night, or rather the day. "I need to see my brother, please."

"It shouldn't be too much longer now. I've been done with him for over an hour and I thought they said they were almost done when I left to come and see how you were doing. Speaking of how you're doing, are you feeling better, Sam?"

"Please stop asking me how I feel. I'll feel better when I can see my brother," he answered her question a little more angrily then he had meant to and instantly regretted it when he saw her face sink just a little. He did like her, after all and she had been like a lifeline to a drowning man when he needed something to keep his head afloat for him earlier. "Sorry. I do feel better, just have a headache."

"Well, I think I've got something here in my pocket for that and there's some water right there next to you," she tore open the packet of pills she had in her hand and passed them over to him as he reached for the water, taking all four of the little, brownish-orange tablets in one swallow followed by a generous mouthful of water right behind. "If you don't feel nauseous or dizzy, I'll take that IV out now too."

He noticed it for the first time since the conversation began, the thin line of tubing that ran down the side of the bed and snaked its way up the length of his arm before its end buried itself just under the flesh of his hand. He didn't care if he felt like vomiting up not only the entire contents of his stomach but his stomach right along with it; as far as she was concerned, he felt just fine and deciding that to be the best answer, he took a page from his older brother's pigheaded, medical avoidance book as he thrust his hand forward at her. "I'm fine, really. Just take it out please."

Glancing in Bobby's direction, the elder man just shrugged his shoulders subtly as if giving her permission to proceed. Peeling back the sticky tape on Sam's hand and removing it altogether, she pressed a folded up 2inch x 2 inch piece of gauze against the vein and slid the offending piece of plastic out before stretching a brown Band-Aid over the top to keep the pressure steady for her. Winding up the line and draping it over the bag to keep it from dripping onto the floor, she took one more good look at Sam's weary face and rested a comforting but firm hand on his forearm when she saw him make an effort to climb from the bed.

"Not so fast Sam. You were dehydrated, exhausted, and probably in a state of shock before you went down and I want you to get something into your stomach before you go anywhere. I want you to rest here just a little while longer while I get you something to eat. The last thing I want or you need is you right back down here in a little while because you passed out again, so sit tight and I'll be back when I have some news on Dean for you," Sophia told the young man more than asked him and Bobby was silently standing right next to her to basically tell Sam that her request wasn't an option, it was a subtle order. She shook her head without saying another word and the next thing both men knew, she was gone.

"You knew all of that already, didn't you?" Sam had to ask when he saw that the older man's facial expressions hadn't changed once during her explanation as if any of it wasn't new news to him.

"Yeah, she already told me how bad he really is," Bobby confessed, albeit not guiltily.

"Is there anything else she didn't tell me?" Sam suspiciously inquired, doubting she would keep anything from him but asking it anyway.

"Nope. I think that pretty much covered all of it," Bobby replied, his tone obviously hiding something as he eyed Sam curiously and sighed thankfully when he realized the slight waver in his voice had gone unnoticed. He quickly decided to change the subject in order to keep Sam's mind occupied. "You wanna talk about what happened back there?"

Sam knew that sooner or later, that question was coming; he just didn't think it would come this quickly. Bobby could be as devious as the Winchesters at times, especially when it came to interrogating and knowing full well that Sam's head would be so clouded with his concern for his brother's well being to even remotely be able to avoid his prying questions, Sam would probably spill like a broken levee. Dropping his head back down onto the pillow behind him, Sam turned his still bloodshot gaze from the older man up to the ceiling and tried to figure out just what to say and realized pretty quickly that he couldn't come up with anything intelligent. Truth be told, he had no idea what had happened back there. He had been so consumed with anger and grief that he just blocked everything else out and honestly couldn't remember much of anything that happened during that short period of time until the glass started shattering around him.



"I don't know Bobby. When Dean died, I just… I mean, I couldn't… I can't…" he stammered, unable to put his feelings into proper words and decided to not even try before directing his anger elsewhere. "Why does he always have to do that Bobby? He did die, and could still die because he always feels the need to protect me, even from me."

"It's because he loves you unconditionally Sam," Bobby stated flatly, just telling Sam exactly like it is.

"Then why does he always do shit that may end up leaving me alone. He never thinks anything through first, he just does what he thinks is right and we got lucky this time, very lucky. I'm not sure we'll be so lucky if there is a next time."

"Sam, that brother of yours loves you as much, if not more, than that daddy of yours loved you both combined and look what he did when one of his boys was in serious trouble. Do you really think Dean's ever gonna stop trying to look after you with his dying breath anytime soon?"

"No," Sam single-wordedly huffed and rolled his eyes right along with it, the one word answer saying it all.

"Then stop obsessing about it and try protecting him from himself and hope for the best. That's about all you can do kid 'cause I'd be willing to bet he can't live without you as much as you can't live without him."

"Yeah, well this time he might not live because of me," Sam sighed out, knowing Bobby was right. No amount of arguing was ever going to change Dean. "Screw this; I'm checking myself out of here. I can't sit here another minute waiting and wondering what's happening." Sam threw the blanket off his legs that had been covering them and made to stand, until he felt the cold draft against his bare skin and thought twice.

"And you complain about Dean," Bobby chuckled, not at the amusement but the irony. Chuckling again when he noticed what Sam still had only half discovered; he pointed in the young man's direction and asked him the real pressing question of the day. "Were you planning on checking out half naked Sam? In case you hadn't noticed…"

"Sorry guys, the kitchen isn't open yet and it seems that McDonald's is the only thing serving at this hour of the day. Since it was right across the street, I guess it'll have to do," Sophia's voice echoed through the room, causing both men to instantly quiet as they looked at her with surprise and Sam quickly drew the blanket back over his lower half. "Hope you like hotcakes and sausage, because that's what you're getting."

She casually dropped the oversized, white bag onto the table next to Sam and drew out one rectangular shaped, Styrofoam container after another, handing one to Sam first with a plastic fork, plastic knife and a napkin, then handed the other to Bobby as well. Sam may not know it, but the older man hadn't left his side in the twelve hours he had been asleep, other than to fill out the obligatory paperwork he had been given and he looked nearly as beaten down as Sam had when he first set foot into the emergency room back in Chester. The dark bags under his eyes indicated that he hadn't slept a wink in the longest time as well and Sophia was pretty sure he would be the next one to drop if she didn't try heading that off.

"You really didn't have to do this," Bobby graciously told her, totally thankful that she did though. "I need a little fuel for my engine, so thanks much."

"Eat up gentlemen. Once you're done, we'll see about finding you some clothes to put on and letting you go Sam. That t-shirt you showed up in has been properly disposed of and the jeans, well… you really can't put those back on either but I'm sure we can scrounge you up something to wear."

"Don't worry, I've already got that covered," Bobby announced, pointing to the large, green duffle bag resting in the corner. "I knew you'd need to change, just didn't know I'd find you like this when I got here."

"Your uncle is a good man Sam," Sophia winked and smiled at them both until they saw her happy appearance turning startled as she jump slightly. Reaching into her pocket and pulling out her pager that had suddenly sprung to life without any notice, she waved it at them and excused herself, quickly leaving the room and the two of them alone again.

"Speaking of clothes, I had to snatch some of your brother's gear from his bag since you left my truck back in Chester with all my stuff in it. Couldn't go wandering around here covered in blood myself and your gangly things don't exactly fit me," Bobby felt the need to tell Sam, who had already ingested half of what was sitting on the table in front of him and was eagerly working on the other half already, not really listening to what he had just said and anxious to get out of the room he currently felt trapped in. "Sam, can you even taste that while you inhale it?"

"You heard her Uncle Bobby. The sooner we eat, the sooner we get the hell out of here. What are you waiting for? Start shoveling."

'I'm waitin' for someone to bring me some Rolaids. I'm getting heartburn just watching you. Slow down 

or you're gonna make yourself sick kid."

Ignoring what the older man had said, Sam nearly jumped off the bed to get to the bag waiting for him in the corner when his foam plate was clean and dug through it with a purpose. Pulling out jeans, a clean t-shirt and socks, he was dressed and searching for his shoes before Bobby had finished, the man seeing exactly what he was looking for and silently pointing him in the right direction. With his feet now strapped into their usual footwear and Bobby's plate now empty, Sam threw the duffel over his shoulder and ventured out into the hall, spotting Sophia on his first sweep of his latest surroundings. She was leaning up against the nurses' station counter listening to someone on the other end of the phone that she had pressed to her ear, occasionally nodding as if the caller could hear her head shaking. Seeing Sam coming in her direction from the corner of her eye, she ended the call before he got into earshot and stood her tiny frame up fully to address him.

"Wow, that was fast," she feigned her surprise as he approached and dropped the receiver back into its cradle.

"Can we just go wait upstairs please?" He asked her in that sad begging tone again.

"That was the surgeon I was just talking to Sam. They've already moved your bother straight from the OR to the ICU. We can go right up as long as you're ready."

"I think I'm ready," Sam told her somewhat sarcastically and she glanced first at him then at Bobby before motioning to the elevators.

"I really wanted to talk to you in your room before I took you to see him, but if you're that anxious to see Dean then I guess I'll have to explain a few things to you on the way up. You need to be fully prepared before you walk in that door Sam."

"Somehow I knew there had to be more to it then what you already told me," Sam commented, shooting Bobby a look of irritation and recognizing the look that came right back as one of guilt that he already knew most of what was still to come.

"I'm sorry Sam. I just wanted to make sure you were up to hearing all the news, that's all."

"Ok, so let's have the rest," he readied himself mentally for what he was about to hear as she began speaking again, the sweet sound of her voice making even the most horrifying of news reports sound benign.

"You already know that his ribs have been stabilized but his lungs still aren't functioning without assistance yet. I decided not to intubate him orally but opted instead for a tracheotomy tube, not only to keep his mouth free for potential speech once he wakes up but also considering the fact that we may be looking at possible long-term ventilation."

"Long-term ventilation? What's that supposed to mean? How long is long-term?" Sam nearly screamed; the small confines of the tiny elevator they had boarded without him even noticing making his voice seem all that much louder.

"His lungs are so weak right now, maybe two weeks, maybe more. I just don't know yet. It's hard to tell considering…" she started, not ready to share what she had planned on saving for last.

"Considering what?" Sam caught on quickly, but she skirted around the question expertly.

"We put in an intravenous line into his neck that threads directly into a large vein in his chest that we've started some pretty heavy doses of antibiotics through along with IV feeding and pain medication. I'd really rather avoid placing a feeding tube into his stomach, so for now it'll have to do. Eventually we'll need to give him some light sedation so he doesn't fight the ventilator, but for now that isn't really going to be an issue."

"Eventually you'll have to sedate him? Why eventually? Why not now?" Sam asked through heavy breaths as he wiped his sweaty palms on the legs of his jeans. Just when he thought he had heard the worst, he now knew there was much more to come.

"I don't exactly know how to tell you this Sam, but the serious lack of brain activity Dean is displaying is rather baffling. We have run every test imaginable and can find no sign of brains damage, but he has almost no cognitive brain function at the moment. All his autonomic functions seem fully intact, but the rest are in limbo somewhere. There's an occasional spike in the brainwaves every now and then but that's about it. We'll need to sedate him once his brain starts to catch back up with his body so he doesn't fight the ventilator, but for now it would just be detrimental."

"So your pretty much saying he's brain dead, is that it?" Sam somewhat growled just at the same instant that the elevator doors opened, mercifully ending the longest elevator ride of Sam's entire life as all three stepped out and started slowly walking down the hall.

"No Sam, that's not what I'm telling you at all. I'm saying that we have no explanation for that aspect of 

his condition right now. The few reactions we've had to stimuli are encouraging, but you need to be prepared for the fact that it may be a long road to a complete recovery, that's all. I don't want to promise you any miracles."

"There's no such thing as miracles," Sam dejectedly stated as simply as he possibly could and turned away from her and Bobby to face the doorway of the room Sophia had walked them both up to and Sam had to pause and draw in a deep breath before walking in as Bobby lagged behind to give Sam some much needed time alone at his big brother's side.

The sounds were the first thing to assault his senses. The slow, monotonous beeping indicating there was still some life, albeit forced life, inside the broken and battered body lying helplessly in the bed was a joy to hear, but the rest of the ominous noises he could have gone the rest of his life without. Each hiss that he heard coinciding with the rising of Dean's multicolored chest that had been left exposed as the silence that followed directly after it caused it to fall flat and lifeless again only reminded him that his brother, his hero, couldn't even do the simplest of things as breathe. Purples, reds and blacks were scattered in splotches everywhere across his body, the harsh colors penetrating the orange coating that had been wiped all over his chest and abdomen underneath and around the bright white layers of gauze taped to both of his sides covering the incisions that had been made to piece the ribs he himself had crushed back together.

As his eyes drifted up from Dean's torso to survey his neck, he shivered when he saw the thick, plastic tubes protruding from his throat in more than one place, the one dead center just below his Adam's apple snaking its way around his head and ending at the machine making the sounds he hated to hear making him somewhat sick to his stomach. The other set of lines seemed a little more innocent to Sam's eyes; one, thick line branching into three that all carried one kind of fluid into his bloodstream. Dropping his gaze from Dean's neck to his hands, Sam reached for the one that wasn't wrapped in mounds of white and encased in a black brace that held the two end finger's tightly outstretched and immobilized to prevent them from moving or curling. Taking Dean's free, unscathed hand into his own and basking in its warmth, he held it against his chest and finally let his eyes drift to his brother's face, his own mind barely able to look him in the closed eye.

With his face remarkably free of anything restricting other then the few, small electrodes that were barely visible stuck to his head, each one spread out intermittently and spanning the gap between his left and right temples, his face had gone peacefully serene. Too serene to Sam's liking, considering all the mayhem that had ensued the day before. Dean's eyes were pinched shut tight, the dark circles arcing deeply below them being one of the few indications there was that anything wrong. At worst, he looked like he usually did after a night of too much beer, women, and pool; not necessarily in that order either. The rosy color of his cheeks stood out in stark contrast to the ghostly white of the rest of his face and Sam could tell by the heat coming from the hand clutched to his chest that the bright red was fever-induced but that didn't stop him from brushing the backs of his fingers across his brother's cheek anyway, somehow wanting to feel that heat as well.

It was Dean's lips that brought Sam's emotions crashing down around him, the emotions that he had been miraculously keeping in check since Sophia had started explaining his brother's condition to him earlier. His lips were no longer caked in his own blood and held a dark, pinkish color to them; almost a healthy color, Sam thought. With the blood spattered across them cleaned away, he could see how dry and cracked they were, the slight part in them that was almost always there when Dean slept heavily making Sam's mind tell himself that Dean was doing just that and nothing more than that as he breathed through his mouth like he always did, half expecting the light snore that usually followed to start any second. Vivid imaginations didn't last long though when the obnoxious sounds of the ventilator pumping oxygen into Dean's lungs and the tiny electrodes attached to his head that indicated nothing was going inside it forced him to realize that maybe… just maybe… there was nothing left of Dean but an empty shell anymore. He had brought his body back to life, but had he brought him back from death entirely whole? With his mind reeling and his heart aching, he just let the tears that had started accumulating in his eyes the second he walked into room stream down his face as he leaned over Dean and rested his head against his brother's warm shoulder, his tears drying almost as quickly as they landed on the hot flesh pressed Sam pressed his cheek against like he did when he was scared as a child and for the first time in a very long time, he just let himself cry.

Bobby and Sophia had made their way into the room when the heart wrenching sobs had reduced themselves to nothing more than hard sniffles and hitched breathes, the red, puffy eyes that stared at Bobby's as he came into the room being the catalyst to the older hunter's own bloodshot eyes start to 

mist. The man that had taken them in and protected them, the man that had been their emotional rock since their father had left them couldn't hide his own pain anymore and as he approached Sam and rested a hand on his shoulder, Sam rose from his chair and nearly crushed Bobby in a much needed embrace, the tears that had seemed to stop coming from Sam's eyes starting to stream once again as Bobby's joined them and the two cried their grief out together.

Not one of the three in the room had noticed the blonde haired woman pacing the hall periodically, glancing in every now and again and deciding now was the wrong time to pay them a visit and figured that there would be no real harm in waiting just a little while longer. It would probably be better that way anyway, because she was going to need Sam in somewhat of a right mind to tell him what it was she wanted and what she had to give him back in return. That's what demons do after all, make deals and she knew that she had one whopper of a deal for Sam that there was no way he could refuse… because she knew she had the only thing on the face of the planet that Sam wanted right now firmly grasped in the palm of her hand, ready to crush it should Sam say no.