Legalities, as always Sam and Dean and all things Supernatural do not belong to me. They are the property of the CW and Kripke Enterprises. I wish they would share, but I don't think that is going to happen so I guess I will simply play in their sandbox for a bit.

Rating MA: For language and injured Dean and Sam throughout the storyline, they will also be M/M pairing although they are not brothers in this story. Pairings won't happen till later chapters, so be sure to review the warnings before reading.

If you don't like this type of thing, then don't read this story I am sure there are ones that would be more pleasing to you.

Author's Note: This story will follow Sam and Dean they continue their lives and try to deal with the challenges of their own pasts and tragic past of a child named Adam Milligan. This ride will get bumpy before it gets smooth, so be prepared.

IF YOU READ MY OTHER STORIES AND DO NOT READ NON-RELATED SAM/DEAN PLEASE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER :You have been warned.

Previous Chapter

"He murdered his own mother, Dean. He gutted her like an animal…Dawson was so young at the time; seven to be exact, that the police never even suspected him. The lie he'd concocted was so plausible…" Richardson's jaw clenched in anger before he continued. "He got away with murder that night and…for the last twenty years. Then he joined the military, met you and then you became the focal point of his obsessed fixation. Much like his mother had been when he'd been younger. He had a pathological need to control the people in his life."

Dean was staring at his hands lying limply in his lap. He never would've suspected that Brandon was this fucked up. How could he have missed all the signs? He'd grown up in an abusive home with a sexually perverted, drug dealing father, and he'd still managed to stay blind to this man's perverse sense of love. He'd chalked it up to the man's intensity…which was one of things that had drawn Dean to him in the first place.

The agent stood up and quietly collected his paperwork. He looked over at Sam, the apology clearly expressed in his eyes. "I'm going to leave you two alone to talk about this, but if you're amenable to it, Mr. Winchester, we have a plan to catch this sick son of a bitch." He looked away for a moment and then back again. "Please call me if you're interested in helping." He waited and then sighed when Dean didn't answer. "The plan hinges on you, Dean."

Dean's eyes flashed up to his in surprise, but he remained quiet as the agent gathered up his gear and quietly left the hospital room.

"Oh my God, Sammy…" was all Dean could manage before the alarms went off and his eyes rolled back in his head as he slumped against the pillows.

"Dean!" Sam cried as he lunged to his feet. He hadn't been surprised by the fact that Dean had taken the news in silence. But he hadn't expected the heart rate monitors to start screaming in protest or for the man he loved to collapse against the pillows in a shuddering pile of convulsions.

Dean was thrown back into a memory that had been all but scorched from his mind. He and Brandon were on a mission…other members of their team following slightly behind them. They'd been tasked with intercepting a young man that was carrying the plans for a potential terrorist attack. The boy was barely fifteen, but he been a mule for the Taliban for most of his young life. His route had been plotted out by intel and their team had been sent in to catch the kid…alive.

He was crouched down behind a large steep drum at the edge of the structure where the kid was staying. Dean's job was to hang back while the team members completed the mission. He was there in case anyone was injured and that was it. So he'd settled back into a semi-comfortable position to wait. He hated that he wasn't going to be helping his team out on this one…but orders were orders. Brandon had taken point and the look of anticipation in his eyes had made Dean shake his head in wonder. How the guy got that excited about a potential confrontation was beyond the medic.

The sudden patches of light and the blasts of gunfire had Dean hunkering down deeper into his hiding spot. He pulled his M4 up and took aim at the entry point of the building. They knew it as the 'fatal funnel'…it was where the guys would push any adversaries through. All Dean had to do was wait. The first man through was an easy shot to the chest, the man toppled over in a tangle of limbs. The second person was a young woman…she was covered in the traditional burka and screaming as he scurried from the structure. Two of his own men followed her out…but Brandon wasn't among them. Dean's heart pounded as he watched the door for his friend. Finally Dawson's form stumbled out of the building. He was covered in blood, his clothes were torn, but he was alive.

Dean hadn't thought anything about the incident…but as it replayed in his head he began to wonder about the death of the boy. The report had stated that he'd attack Dawson in close quarters combat and that the ranger had had to defend himself. But the way the boy had been killed? It had been more like an execution style…like something out of Deliverance. But Dean hadn't made that leap. It hadn't occurred to him that Dawson was that type of man…no not a man…a monster.

Pressure was building in his chest and he wanted nothing more than for it to just stop. Like a balloon that refused to be popped no matter how much air was blown into it. Pain was radiating outward like a merry go round. It was starting in the center of his chest and picking up intensity as it moved toward his limbs. The sudden contraction of his muscles was pulling at his stitches and Dean was convinced that if he breathed his insides would just rip open and spill his guts all over the floor. He clenched his jaw without thinking and his fingers curled into fists, leaving small crescent shaped wounds in his palms.

He kept seeing Brandon's face and the blood that had covered it that night. The glee when the man had told him about the kill. Dean had pushed it off as an adrenaline high from the firefight. He couldn't deal with this at the moment…he allowed the darkness to descend as he felt his mind drift.

Sam was horrified as he was shoved, once again, to the back of the room. He watched as the doctors worked to stop the seizure. He'd known that talking with Richardson might trigger some sort of response from Dean…but he hadn't expected this. And now as he watched, terrified, he wished that he'd gone with his initial reaction, which was to tell the agent to wait until Dean was stronger. But the idea that there might be a second attack had spurred him in a direction he wouldn't' normally have taken.

XXXX

A man in surgical scrubs watched the activity from the edge of the hallway. He shifted back into the shadows, a small caliber weapon hidden just behind his hip. He'd have to find another avenue to take out the doctor and his lover. After all he'd waited ten years…what was another few weeks.

Sam finally couldn't stand watching Dean struggle, he had to step out of the room. His air was catching in his throat and he found his hands clasping his thighs as he leaned forward to gain control. Movement off to his right caught his attention, he looked up and caught sight of the back of a nurse moving away in a pair or odd colored purple scrubs. Something about the man made Sam stand up and stare. The guy turned just before he disappeared into the stairwell and that's when Sam saw the scars…and the disfigured face. Brandon.

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Chapter 17

Abandoned Plans

Sam's breathing returned in an instant and he was racing after the retreating figure. He couldn't believe that the son of a bitch had the audacity to show up in their hospital. Dean was clinging to life because of that bastard. He skittered around the corner of the stairwell and heaved a sigh of frustration when there was no one there. All Sam could see was Dean's broken body in the utility closet of that hospital and it was wrecking him inside. He turned slowly and moved back up the hallway toward Dean's room.

The commotion around his room had faded to a dull roar and Sam bit at his lower lip as he peaked through the window. Dean was lying motionless in the bright white sheets of the hospital bed. His skin was dull against the brilliant color and his freckles standing out against the pale skin. A memory so strong it made him gasp slammed into Sam like a tidal wave. He leaned against the doorframe as he waited for his knees to steady. Dean's seizure in the hospital all those years ago and the revelation of what the love of his life had gone through in his childhood. Sam swallowed heavily and blinked to clear the mist from his blue-green eyes.

He pushed into the room and sank bonelessly into the chair next to the bed. It was one of those uncomfortable little plastic chairs that looked like it belonged at a child's party, not next to the bed of a grown adult. Sam's fingers reached up their own volition and ghosted over Dean's face. The light fever that he felt there made him worry.

"He suffered a mild seizure that sent him into cardiac arrest. The weakened state of his heart will be a problem for a while longer I'm afraid." The doctor had managed to get inside the room without Sam noticing.

The tall man turned toward the medical professional and shook his head. "Is he gonna make it outta here?"

"I'm hopeful he'll make a full recovery, Sam. We need doctors like him." The man smiled and slipped from the room.

Sam's head felt heavy and his eyes like lead he leaned against his palm and stared at the sleeping form of Dean.

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Dean wanted to groan at the pain in his chest, but his throat was so dry he couldn't even swallow let alone speak. He forced his sticky eyelids open and waited for his eyes to clear. A soft snore near his hip had him dropping his gaze. "Oh Sammy…" He whispered.

"Dean?" Anna's worried whisper made him glance up at the door. His little sister's red head was bobbing up and down as he she breathed quietly in the darkness.

"Anna…" He rasped. She went immediately for the water and put the straw to his lips. Dean gratefully drank until he couldn't anymore and leaned back against the pillows. "Where's Cas and Cassy?" He kept his voice low in the hopes that he wouldn't wake up Sam.

Anna smiled and moved closer to bed. Her brown eyes drifting over the large sleeping form of Sam. "He's with the baby…at home. I needed to see you." Tears dripped slowly down her face as she knelt next to the bed and reached out, taking his larger hand between her smaller ones. "Dean…you have to fight." Her gaze flickered to Sam and then back to Dean. "He won't make it without you…and Cassy needs her uncle Dean." And then she threw in the clincher. "And what about Adam?" She smiled again. "That kid needs you two."

Sam had woke up sometime in the middle of her speech, he avoided moving and waited for her to finish before he sat up. Dean's green eyes connected instantly with his gaze and Sam smiled. He crossed around the end of the bed and claimed Dean's other hand. "Hey Anna."

"Sam." She inhaled and sensed that these two needed to talk. "I'm gonna run down and get a cup of coffee, you want some?"

"Yes." They said in unison and she glared at her brother. "Not you mister."

"But…" He started to argue and she simply shook her head. "Fine. But that makes you a horrible sister you know that right?" Dean's tone was joking and there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. He was covering the pain. Anna had seen it so many times growing up that she'd recognize the maneuver anywhere.

"Right." She ignored whatever else he had to say as she walked purposely from the room.

Dean's gaze switched back to Sam. "You look terrible." He whispered as he lifted his fingers and gently stroked Sam's face.

"You've looked better yourself, love." Sam leaned in and gently pressed his lips against Dean's forehead. "Don't do that again." His voice shook with the level of emotion he was trying desperately to suppress. Sam leaned away and blinked a few times as his throat bobbed with all the things he wasn't saying.

"I'm sorry." What else could he say? Dean couldn't believe the prickly feelings that were coursing through his system at the moment. Seeing Sam this worried was putting him right back in that basement room. It was also a relief that he'd come so far in his own life. The only person that had ever truly loved him before Sam was Anna. And it felt amazing to know that he'd earned the love and respect of someone as profoundly good as Sam Wesson. "Love you." He finished slowly.

"I know that Dean. I love you too."

"So what are we gonna do about Brandon?" The words were tough to stomach, but Dean knew that this wasn't over. Brandon wasn't the type of guy to leave things undone and right now? Dean was a loose end that needed to be tied up.

Sam bit his lower lip and shook his head. "I have no idea. I guess we work with Agent Robinson until they can bring him in." Something was lurking behind his expressive eyes and Dean found himself wondering what he wasn't being told.

"Sammy…" He said slowly. His words having the desired effect. The taller man leaned against the bed in frustration.

"How is it you know me so well?" It was almost rhetorical, but not quite. Sam thought that he was better at hiding his emotions than he obviously was. At least where Dean was concerned.

"Because you're the other half of my soul." His voice shook as he stared intently at Sam's shocked expression. "You and me…we're two halves of one whole." Love was tumbling through Dean's chest like he'd just run a race and his heart wouldn't stop racing.

Sam leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against Dean's lips. "We're gonna stop him, Dean."

"I know."

XXXX

Brandon climbed into the rental car in the underground garage. He'd been so close. He'd almost gotten the syringe into Dean's IV…and this whole thing would be over. He could die. Since the night of that raid he'd been carrying around a desire to simply let go. To avoid the pain and the derision of society. He hated that he couldn't do that until he'd killed Dean Winchester. But now with the addition of the man's little sex toy? Brandon had two people in his crosshairs. He couldn't kill Dean until he'd killed the other man…preferably in front of Dean somehow. That way he could feel the sorrow and the anger and that soul-consuming loss that Brandon had felt everyday for the past seven years.

Maybe he'd even go after Dean's pretty little sister if he really wanted to break Winchester. He grinned and the skin on his face pulled tightly reminding him of the scars he now bore on that half of his face. It was a subtle reminder that he had to get on with his plan. The hospital would have been fitting if that damn man had been where he was supposed to be. But Dean hadn't been in his office when the bomb exploded and now there were loose ends to tie up. At three that Brandon could think of.

He pulled out onto the street and slowed for a red light before jumping into a lane headed for the freeway. He wasn't done…not by a long shot.

TBC…

Author's Note: So…it's been too long since I posted on this…sorry for that. To the reviewer that asked about this a couple of weeks ago, no it's not abandoned; I'm just slow to post due to work. Hope you like the build up here. I am hoping to get the next chapter out quicker this time, thanks for sticking with me though. And thank you to everyone that has read and reviewed this, much appreciation and love.

PLEASE REVIEW: I just need to know if anyone is still reading this. Thanks