AN: This is a bit late, and I apologize. Real life threw me a bit of a curveball, and I had a special request that I simply couldn't refuse, so I rewrote the second half of the chapter and made myself even later. Thanks for your patience!

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Born for the blue skies

We'll survive the rain

Born for the sunrise

We'll survive the pain

Dark Horses by Swiftfoot

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Whether it was the sound of the shot (shots, actually, as Bobby had taken one too) or the oneiroi's voice or something else, Sam was getting agitated. Dean knelt at his side, his ankle first protesting the movement then giving him sweet relief as there was finally no weight on it.

"Hey, Sammy. I'm back, and search and rescue's comin'. You -- shit." Sam's nose had started bleeding. Dean grabbed the pack from under Sam's feet, pulling out a handful of flannel cloths that were pieces of repurposed shirts, then propped Sam's head and shoulders against the pack.

"What's goin' on here?" Dean asked, not liking the distress on Sam's face or the way he was brokenly muttering.

Sam began to struggle in earnest as Dean held the first rag under his nose. "Easy, buddy. You've sprung a leak."

"'S goin' on?" asked Bobby, standing over them to watch for the oneiroi.

"The princess has a bloody nose and doesn't like me cleaning it up."

"He wakin' up?"

"He's trying." Dean switched to a clean rag and frowned at the way Sam was moving agitatedly around. "Aren't you, Sam? You won't believe who I found."

It abruptly occurred to Dean that Sam was fighting the thermal blanket they'd wrapped tightly around him. Dean frowned harder. Kid had spent most of the night trapped under a tree or buried alive. Trapping his arms in the blanket probably hadn't been their best idea. Dean checked Sam's pulse and gauged the temperature of his skin. He was cool but not cold, and with dawn peeking sleepily over the horizon, their ride out of there couldn't be too far off. Emotional comfort trumped physical warmth for the moment.

"Help me a sec, Bobby," Dean requested, hampered by the need to keep a cloth under Sam's nose. "I think he'll feel a lot better with his arms free."

Bobby squatted next to Sam. He didn't relinquish his gun, but with each man using one hand, they got Sam's arms out. "His pulse is a little slower, but I'd feel a lot better if he'd open his eyes," Dean muttered.

Bobby used Dean's shoulder to lever himself to his feet so they could both pretend that was the only thing the touch was for. "He will," was Bobby's only comment as he strode back to his post, putting himself between the Winchesters and the last place they'd seen the oneiroi. Mama bear, thought Dean fondly, though he had too much self preservation to voice the thought out loud.

Sam's mindless motions had slowed after his arms were freed, as Dean had hoped. The kid was still scrunching his forehead and showing other signs of waking.

"You gonna grace us with your presence?" he asked. Dean carefully wiped away some blood that had gotten past the rag, and was startled and immensely pleased when Sam reached up blindly grabbed his wrist. "That's right, Sammy. I'm here. Told you I'd be back in no time."

Dean deftly switched the rag to the other hand to wipe away the rest of the blood, not wanting to take away the contact if Sam needed it. "How about some eyeballs, huh? You with me, Sammy?"

Sam's eyes opened bare slits, but they were far from focused. Dean gave him a big smile anyway. "There you go! How ya doin'?"

Sam said something Dean didn't catch and his eyelids fluttered like he was struggling to stay awake. But he didn't let go and he was at least partly awake and Dean would take over the pale and still brother he'd has shortly before. "Hey, Sammy. Focus here. You have to tell me where it hurts, how bad it is, okay?"

Sam's eyes slid to the side then met Dean's again. "Three," he said. "Tree nodded...n-not dead." Sam frowned in concentration, an effect which was ruined by the glazed look in his eyes. "Blue eyes," he said carefully.

What was that now? Dean didn't let his confusion show, or his worry about Sam's ramblings. Just in case Sam was able to see him, he kept a relaxed, cheerful look on his face. "Not my eyes. Did you wanna stare into Bobby's eyes maybe?" Dean set the bloody rag aside, grateful that the bleeding had stopped.

Bobby's scoff didn't ring quite true. Even just catching a glimpse of Bobby's profile, Dean could read the worry there.

Sam muttered something about three again. Or maybe tree. Suddenly needing to truly connect with his brother, Dean leaned forward and took hold of Sam's chin with his free hand. "Sammy, look at me. Really see me, Sammy." He wasn't loud, but he was insistent. "I don't know what happened, but it's over now. I'm here and we're getting out of here."

Sam's eyes sharpened and his grip on Dean's wrist tightened. "Dean," he said clearly, a statement, not a question. Then he sighed, let go, and closed his eyes.

Sam didn't stir as Dean checked his pulse -- much closer to normal now -- or patted his cheek and called his name. But his eyes no longer bounced beneath his lids and his posture was slack and relaxed. Dean would have preferred him awake and bitching or, you know, making sense, but this beat the hell out of Sam looking like he was fighting a battle they couldn't see.

"Bobby?" Dean sat on the ground and painfully propped his bad ankle on top of his other foot, hoping to get a little relief. He rallied his thoughts. "I didn't find so much as a bump on Sam's head, and he was totally...with it before I...left him." Dean didn't need to clarify. Bobby had heard the complete confusion and slurring as well as Dean had. "Do any of the, uh, autopsies show signs of any brain damage or anything?" There had been no mention of such, but Bobby knew of older victims than they had.

"No, not at all," Bobby said immediately. "Some of the victims of so-called accidents were from the oneiroi gettin' a little enthusiastic 'bout tryin' to trap new victims. The rest died of heart attacks, so you know what it showed 'em wasn't exactly pleasant. I'm sure Sam's just dealin' with that plus exhaustion from his injuries and bein' buried. Give him a little time."

Dean nodded. That could be, and he hoped Bobby was right. But he couldn't help but think that Sam would be okay if only Dean hadn't left him behind, at the mercy of the monster. Separating was never a good thing. How had they not learned that in a lifetime of Hunting? And worse, abandoning Sam...

Dean jumped as Bobby carefully lifted his foot to rest on his pack instead of the other foot. A glance showed Sam had Bobby's vest for his pillow now.

"You zonin' out on me, Dean?" asked Bobby, less caustically than his usual. "I don't like the look of this ankle."

"Stop fussing," Dean complained, embarrassed to have been caught brooding. He was supposed to be the non-broody Winchester. "Any sign of orner -- hey, hear that?"

Bobby gave a genuine, relieved smile that Dean matched as the sound of ATV's reached them. "Dean, help me try an' keep everyone on this side of the tree, alright?"

Dean shot Bobby a confused look, but there was no time to ask for clarification as they quickly stowed anything suspicious and most of their weapons.

"This way! Hey, we're over here!" Bobby yelled, then things got very busy for a while.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

"But he's my brother. We work together, so we don't advertise it, because the bureau --"

"I know, dear." Nurse Stella refastened the blood pressure cuff Dean had pulled off as his first step toward escape. "You already told me that."

Dean clenched his teeth. With just about anybody else, Dean would have pulled away and bowled his way out of there until he found Sam. But Stella was barely this side of 60, with a cherubic smile, a motherly demeanor, and warm brown eyes. Pushing her around would be like kicking a kitten.

"Well, tell the doctor, because I need --"

"You already told him too, sweetheart." Stella somehow managed to sound sweet even while interrupting. She stuck a thermometer into his ear. "And the team that brought you in, and the intake nurse, and the team who's helping your brother, too."

"Then why aren't any of you listening?" demanded Dean around clenched teeth, trying to keep his tone even. "I'm fine, and I need to see him!"

"Sam is in good hands," said Stella with a kind smile that had probably reassured three generations of hospitalized kids. And she was good. It might even have worked on Dean, if they'd been talking about anyone except Sam. "And once you're all set, I'll go get some news. He's off getting his xrays, anyway. And since they aren't worried about a concussion, I'm sure they've given him some pain medication, so he will sleep for a while." She reattached the alligator clip again.

Dean poked at the inflatable cast thingie that the search and rescue guys had insisted on putting on his leg before getting them out of there. It pissed him off that they'd had to slit the leg of his jeans to do it.

The one medical detail he and Bobby hadn't revealed had been Sam's confusion when he woke up. As far as the hospital was aware, Sam had dug himself out from under the tree while Dean was (abandoning him) going for help, then had passed out from either pain or exhaustion. They knew from experience that it could get messy when medical professionals looked for a mundane answer to a supernatural issue, and they were sure that Sam's confusion came from the oneiroi's attacks.

Dean hadn't quite figured out how to remove the cast, though he'd bet good money that if Stella gave him a few minutes alone, he and his pocket knife could figure it out. For now, he could only glare at it. "I still don't understand why everyone's conspiring to -- no, no, no. You're not giving me an IV."

Stella didn't stop gathering the supplies to do just that. "It won't hurt, honey. And I imagine you'll need something for pain and inflammation."

"That isn't -- Stella, I get what you're doing. This is your job, I know. But my life isn't in danger, and I'm refusing medical care."

Stella actually patted his hand. "This isn't the type of town to let an injured hero go without care." A small town with just one hospital meant that she already knew the official story, that they'd found little Grace, but been injured in her rescue.

Dean stared at the nurse with something like horrified awe. Nothing he'd said had made the slightest bit of an impression on her. She sort of reminded him of a woman who'd inadvertently ended up helping them in a salt and burn recently. Five foot nothing and over 60 years old, Barb gave up over a foot in height to her husband and four adult sons, but there was no question of who was in charge.

Barb was spunky where Stella was sweet, but they shared an iron will and refusal to back down.

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but a familiar voice spoke from outside of the curtain first. "You tell 'im, Stella. Safe for me to come in?"

Dean covered a groan as Stella cheerfully told "Assistant Director Willis" to come in. He'd never backed down from even the most one sided fights, but he knew his odds against Stella and Bobby were not good.

"You know you are required to have all injuries sustained while working thoroughly checked out and treated. Bureau rules, so quit giving Stella a hard time." Bobby folded his arms and looked so smug that Dean thought petulantly (and untruthfully) that he hadn't missed the man. If Bobby hadn't been there, he could have stormed out...or hopped out, anyway. He settled for giving Bobby his best glare. But though he'd once made a ghost cry from the very same, Bobby only rolled his eyes.

"I've seen you practice that look in the mirror, nitwit. I ain't scared o' you."

Dean blushed lightly at the amusement on Stella's face. Yeah, Bobby had caught him practicing his glare -- when he was 14, which Dean couldn't exactly tell Stella. He didn't stop the woman from putting in an IV this time.

When she turned away, Dean spoke quietly to Bobby. "It's Sam, Bobby. And I left him behind once already. I need to be there when he wakes up."

Bobby leaned forward and gripped the rail that Stella had pointedly pulled up and spoke just as softly as Dean had, his eyes boring into Dean's. "You didn't leave him, idjit. You got him help, which is the reason he's here and getting the medical help he needs. You did the right thing, boy." He stood again. In a more conversational tone, he said, "Look, Sam's under right now while they do something called reseating his hip joint. Then they're gonna put him in a room. You let the docs look at you and give you xrays, then I'll make sure that they bring you up to Sam, okay?"

Dean grimaced, but it was pro forma. He knew it was a good deal. "Fine."

Stella smiled beatifically. She patted Dean's arm. "I'll hunt down the doctor, sweetie. Do you want a blanket before I go?"

Dean sputtered a no and gave Bobby a look that promised retribution for his shit-eating grin.

They sobered as soon as Stella was gone, their thoughts with the youngest Winchester. "You heard if the girl's okay?" Dean wanted to know.

"Yup. Nothing wrong with her a couple sandwiches and a nice long nap can't fix." Bobby looked at Dean critically. "You look like you could use both things. How you doin'? Honestly this time."

Dean washed a hand down his face, feeling every bit of the sleepless night and adrenaline dump. "You aren't wrong. Hey, you wouldn't score me a cup of coffee, would ya?"

"On the way to Sam's room later."

Dean sighed, but it was better than nothing. "My ankle hurts like a son of a bitch, but I can handle it. That's it." It was mostly true. "I just..." He couldn't whine again. So instead of saying need to see Sam, he finished, "could really use a beer."

Dean pictured Sam, first the look in his eyes as he told Dean that an 11-year-old was missing. Then smirking at an off color joke Dean made. Then sawing at the root that had Dean trapped. Then pale but resolute, telling Dean to go for help. Then still and buried. Bleeding and delirious. Recognizing Dean and relaxing.

"And, Bobby? We gotta find a way to end this thing for good."

Bobby gave him a steely look that probably mirrored his own. "We will, Dean. We will."

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AN: Barb is my favorite OC I've ever created. You don't need to read her stories to understand this one, but if you'd like to, the first is a one shot called Watering the Flowers. The second is longer and creepier and called Uncanny Valley. Barb showed up because she's probably coming back soon in an upcoming story, so I've been thinking about her.

Jenjoremy: I'm glad you found it, well, dreamlike, even if it was creepy. Did you catch all nine references to the future? Some, like the angel's eyes, were pretty quick. Oh, and I got your request in here, pretty much. :-)

BruisedBloodyBroken: That's cool! I tried to find a synopsis of the book, but I couldn't find much. I remember snatches of stories and quotes all the time and have to look them up. I prefer to think of it as being efficient with brain space! I only remember enough to find it back. LOL And thank you for your kindness.

supernaturalsammy67: Thank you for making me smile so much! Sorry I made you wait for this chapter. Fingers crossed I get the next one out tomorrow.

Long Live BRUCAS: I know, it got pretty creepy. But at least they're in the hospital now!

sfaulkenberry: Bwahaha! No worries -- I'm unlikely to ever stop whumping Sam. Not with people like you encouraging (enabling) me! I went through a Poe phase in high school back in the dark ages and never really outgrew it. I like to picture Death reading The Fall of the House of Usher over some calzone. Thanks for the chuckle and for such a nice, specific compliment too.

waitingforAslan: I'm glad you liked it! I always wonder about those weirdo chapters if people will like them or just go wth. The brotherly devotion warms my heart too!

muffinroo: Thanks! So, should I be worried about the fine print of the contract? Cuz I was only focusing on the Sam part when I signed it, tbh. LOL

Kathy: I figured you'd be happy it was Bobby! I couldn't let Sam out quite that easily. Poor guy really isn't safe with me. I can't wait to hear what you thought of chapter 8!

MewWinx96: Gracias. :-) Again!

JaniceC678: Whew! So happy you weren't just weirded out by that chapter. I figured plenty readers would recognize most if not all of the moments or images. I love that stuff. And naturally, it's Dean's voice!

stedan: I didn't let Sam out quite yet but at least he knew that Dean was there. I sometimes can "rewind" a bad dream then dream it again the way I want -- that's the best.

MaddyWinchester2000: I don't know if this is true for other lucid dreamers, but mine usually start with me recognizing one of four or five things that show up in my dreams often, like being able to breathe under water. And I thought season one Sam might object to the nickname. He'd been on his own for a few years...it would be weird to go back to little brother status, I think.