The car crash had been horrific. One second she had been sitting in the backseat with Dean listening to her father and Sam yell at one another, something that never seemed to end, and the next second Dean threw as much of himself as possible over her and then a loud metal on meal shriek and a loud crunch as the connection of metal truck on metal Impala ensued. The next thing she remembered was the helicopter and Sam yelling.

"Are they even alive?!" she heard him scream. Her neck was immobile and she felt the sudden panic escalate throughout her body.

"I'm alive Sammy!" she screamed. Sam felt a flood of relief that Hannah was all right. Maybe she knew if Dean was all right. She had been sitting in the backseat with him when the accident occurred, and if she was okay then Dean surely had to be as well, because she was sitting on the side closest to impact. But then again, Hannah hadn't been bleeding from internal wounds inflicted by a psychopathic homicidal demon hell bent on destroying the Winchesters.

"Dean." He yelled hoping beyond hope that Dean could hear him. Both held their breath for Dean's response. It didn't come. All that could be heard for miles were the loud steadfast voices of the paramedics reading off stats and vitals. Sam became more agitated and started yelling at the paramedics to tell him what was going on. All the response he was able to obtain was to calm down and to lie back down. To Hell with that. He didn't want to lie down and he most certainly didn't feel calm. His brother could be dying or dead. His heart almost stopped at the thought of loosing Dean, and as soon as he thought it, he dismissed the idea; Dean could never die. He was too strong and too stubborn to let something as trivial as death take him. That thought did nothing to reassure him or to calm his frayed nerves

Hannah, being ushered into another care flight helicopter, suddenly wished that she understood the jargon. She was sure that they were reading off the stats for Dean and their father and by God she wanted to know. She looked up into the face of the nice young man who was holding her IV bag. He tried to give her a smile and that smile communicated so many things. Hannah, since she had spent most of her life silent, had had a lot of time to read people's faces and body language. This man's language indicated that he really felt sorry for her and wished that she wouldn't have to live with the aftermath of this "accident".

"My brother?" she asked.

"He's fine."

"Not the one who is yelling. The other man. The one that was next to me. My brother Dean," she said softly.

"Miss. Don't worry about that right now. Keep your energy focused on getting better."

"Just tell me, is he dead?" tears strolled down her pale cheeks.

"He's not dead." The word "Yet" hung in the air like smoke from a cigarette and just as deadly. Hannah closed her eyes and tried to focus on the fact that Dean was still alive. That he was still with them and as long as they could keep it like that the better chance they had of saving him. She clenched her eyes tightly shut and cursed her brother for throwing his broken and battered body over hers. Did he ever stop to think what it would be like for Sam and her if they lost him? Did that knucklehead ever think of things like that? She had started to cry but when the helicopter took off she suddenly started to laugh manically. The paramedics began to look at her vitals trying to determine if it was something physiological that was causing her to laugh at a time like this. While they were checking, her brain couldn't shake the thought of Dean flying. There were very few things that rattled their brother, flying was one and it would be sort of ironic if he died on the helicopter and it had nothing to do with Dean Winchester plummeting hundreds of thousand feet to his death due to some airplane malfunction and all to do with Dean's super safe car that he felt would protect him until the day he died.

The only comfort she could draw from this situation was that if Dean died, his car would be right beside him, because she was fairly certain that there was no way that car would ever run again. As that last thought formed, she realized that consciousness was fading quickly, those stupid paramedics gave her something to knock her out.

When she came to again, she found that she was lying in a bed, a cast on her right arm, and her ribs were taped up. Sam was sitting in the chair next to her.

"Hey, how are you?" he asked softly. He pushed hair gingerly off of her forehead. She smiled and nodded.

"Glasses?"

"They were pretty much destroyed in the crash. I'll see if I can salvage your spare pair when I go to clean out the Impala." She nodded and tried to sit up, but with one wing out of commission she had a hard time and Sam used his long body to help his big sister sit up.

Once the arduous task of sitting up was accomplished she asked, "Dean?" Sam sat on the edge of her bed and sighed.

"They won't let me see him for another hour. They are getting him situated in his room. She nodded.

"My clothes." He stood and took the clothes that the hospital had given his sister since hers had been cut away so they could access her ribs and arm. He handed them to her and she motioned for him to turn around while she dressed. This was a practice that they had perfected after many years on the road and in cramped quarters together. At the various schools Sam had attended he had heard of boys trying to humiliate their sisters by exposing their under garments or trying to catch them in the shower or something equally humiliating. He had never been able to imagine him or Dean doing something like that to Hannah. As a matter of fact, they had even stood guard when she had used the restroom at shady gas stations their father had insisted upon staying. There was an unwritten rule between the Winchester brothers, Hannah was to be treated with kindness and given as much dignity as living with three men could allow.

"Thank you." She said as she affixed the shirt into place. Sam turned around and she was now clad in a pink hoodie and jeans. She pushed hair out of her face with her left hand and asked, "Dad?"

"Sleeping. He's fine."

"Dean's the only one then?"

"Yeah."

"Demon."

"I think that is the primary reason he is the most injured." She shook her head and swallowed hard.

"No. He threw himself over me to protect me."

"Hannah.." he started to say something comforting when a doctor appeared.

"Miss Winchester, you need to stay put. Your ribs—" she put a hand out to stop him from speaking.

"I want to see my brother Dean."

"We are still settling him into the intensive care unit."

"I don't care. I want to see my brother right now."

"Miss…"

"I don't care what he looks like. I want to see him right this moment."

"Miss…"

"Now! What part of this are you missing sir?" The doctor was taken aback by the dichotomy of the statement. It was disrespectful and respectful all at the same time. The young woman had a fierce look about her and he was actually sort of afraid to cross her.

"You need to be aware young lady that he doesn't look very good at the moment." Hannah held her head up high and nodded.

"Thank you sir." She said and gingerly got off of the bed. "I'm sorry I yelled. It doesn't help my brother to yell and scream at you. You are doing everything in your power to save my big brother." Her voice caught on the last two words and Sam touched her back and steadied her. The doctor smiled and escorted them to the room where Dean was laying.

Hannah's hands shook. Sam guided her to the room, she was nearly blind without her glasses, and she heard and felt Sam's breath hitch when he saw Dean. All Hannah could see were blue and white and the dark of Dean's hair laying on what she presumed to be a pillow. She moved into the room and touched the bed and leaned over to get a good look at her brother.

The tube down his throat hurt her stomach and the tube up his nose made her want throw up. The gash along his forehead was fixable. The cut on his cheek, a minor detail. But her brother's eyes were closed and it looked as if the tube down his throat was the sole reason for his breathing. Sam and the doctor were talking and she couldn't understand anything. Words that she had been able to understand all of her life suddenly held no meaning and her brain refused to comprehend their meaning. Her big brother was lying on the bed, not breathing on his own, and she didn't know what to do for him. She crawled up into the bed before either Sam or the doctor knew what she was doing, and cuddled herself around his body. She wrapped her broken arm around his chest and settled her head against his arm.

"I'll keep you safe Dean." She said softly. "Please wake up." Dean's spirit stood off to the side and felt a stirring in his stomach that if he had been inside his body would have caused him to throw up.

"Hannah." He said.

"I'm listening Dean." She said unaware that his spirit had spoken. "Just tell me what you need me to do to make you better. I'll do it." A sob escaped her throat. "Come back to us Dean. We need you."

The doctor and Sam watched her with heavy hearts and for the first time, Sam realized just how much Hannah had grown to depend on Dean.

Dean's spirit watched his sister cry onto his body and a single tear escaped his bright green eyes. He took a deep breath, fortified himself and said, "I'll be fine Hannah, you just wait and see." With that his spirit took off in search of something that would fix this mess.