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.

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.

This is NOT beta'd. Please excuse the mistakes (they happen when I type too fast).

Chapter Twenty-Three

Fever Dreams

The light was just starting to fade when the pull of sketchy awareness become too strong to ignore. The lightning fast flashes of pain traversed through him in an ever-changing pattern of aches and a throbbing distress that told him he was still alive. He'd heard the sane once, "Pain is just weakness leaving the body". If he could find the asshole that had said that he'd have throat-punched the dude's god dammed lights out. Because this was so much more than weakness leaving the body.

There was a disjointed floating sensation that informed him he was on some kind of medication and it was definitely the good stuff. But it wasn't strong enough to stand between him and the torment of his body. He knew that he wasn't alone in the room and he had no intention of letting on that he was awake.

Dean couldn't deal with Sam right now, and there was no doubt in his feverish and pain addled mind that that was who was sitting beside him. Because where else would his lanky lawyer be?

Dean Winchester had never been suicidal. But at this particular point in his life he wished he hadn't survived the bombing of the hospital. It all would have been over in that instant and he wouldn't have had to deal with the grief, anger, and fear that were consuming him now. He could still feel Brandon. Every touch. Every caress. Every sickening thing that that son of a bitch had done to him was playing over and over inside his head on a loop. Sensations he wanted no part of would ghost over his fevered body and the distress it caused; was unparalleled.

Dean didn't know how to come back from this one. He'd overcome a lot in his life. But this was too much. He didn't think he could even touch Sam without thinking of what Brandon had done to him.

Or what I did for Brandon. He considered regretfully. He hadn't been in control of his body or his mind, but that was no excuse for betraying the love of his life. Because that was what he'd done…betrayed Sam…and that was unforgivable in his mind.

Being a doctor he figured he must be on some heavy-duty antibiotics to be thinking this clearly. And that meant that there was going to be a nasty spike at some point and he was likely to drop into fever dreams. Oh god, I don't want to be trapped inside; with him. Because there was nothing that his mutinous brain would conjure up that would be worse than the truth.

He swallowed and couldn't stop the moan of grief that alerted Sam of his change in consciousness.

"Dean? Are you awake?"

A warm hand settled on his bandaged left arm and Dean noticed for the first time that he couldn't move his right hand at all. It was immobilized and completely numb.

Please tell me he didn't cut my fucking hand off? Dean wondered frantically. He couldn't exactly ask Sam about it. Lost in his tumultuous thoughts he was caught off guard by the sensation of his hair being pushed back off his forehead and the memories it conjured of Brandon doing the same thing after smashing his hand.

Oh…that's what happened. He destroyed my hand…he destroyed me.

Dean wanted desperately to move away, but he didn't have any control over his opiate controlled muscles. His medical training again kicked in and he wondered if that was such a good thing? He'd just gotten off the meds from his first bout with Brandon. As a matter of fact, they'd now gone two rounds and he had lost both of them rather spectacularly.

Another gentle caress had him cringing without meaning to. There was a soft intake of breath and the hand was quickly removed. He could just imagine Sammy running his hands through his long hair in agitation and biting at his lower lip. Another image of Brandon inserted itself into his mind he moaned again. It sounded broken and pathetic…just like me.

The deep timber of his lover's voice broke through. "Baby, I know you're awake. At least somewhat awake. Your breathing shifted." Sam said softly. He sighed. "It's okay, Dean. You don't need to open your eyes. Just listen to me." Another pause and Dean knew that Sam was pulling himself together to say something important. Was this the final straw? Had Brandon finally destroyed the only positive relationship that Dean had ever managed to have outside of Anna? Did Brandon destroy it? Or had Dean done that when he'd given himself over to Brandon for a moment of respite from the hellacious pain? He felt his face twitch and then instantly regretted it when his entire right side throbbed.

Another long breath… "Dean, I need you to know something before the medication kicks in again. " There was a moment where Sam had no idea what he really wanted to say. So he just started talking. "I don't care."

For a moment Dean panicked, thinking that Sam was saying goodbye to him. He started to force his body into some semblance of a reaction and nearly sobbed when he got no response from his traitorous muscles.

Sam continued. "I don't care what happened with—" He stopped speaking, like it was too difficult to even utter the sadistic bastard's name. "I don't care what you had to do to survive. I'm just grateful that you did. Survive. Because I need you Dean. I can't raise Adam without you. So you have to fight the demons and win. I can't fight them for you. If I could, I swear on my mother's grave I would do it, but I can't. You have to want to get better…" Sam's words drifted off and there was a hitch to the last statement.

Dean still wasn't able to open his eyes and he wasn't ready to face Sam. Not yet. But he couldn't handle the anguish he was hearing in his voice. He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew that Sam's hand was resting by his left side. It took an iron will, but he forced his fingers to twitch over that half an inch and lay on top of Sam's trembling long fingers. It wasn't much, but it was all he could offer at the moment.

His world started to slip again and without ever even opening his eyes, Dean drifted away into a world of darkness and pain.

XXXX

"I'm not sure he'll fight." Sam muttered in a low voice. His eyes were burning with fatigue and his shoulders were aching from his hunched position, but he had no intention of moving. He wasn't leaving Dean's side. He'd made that mistake before and it had nearly killed the man lying helpless in the hospital bed. There was no one that Sam trusted to watch over Dean. Agent Richardson had nearly gotten a boatload of people killed in an effort to catch Brandon and Sam wasn't giving the man another chance. Not to mention that he'd had the love of his life taken and tortured in an unthinkable way. The price of catching that SOB was too fucking high. Sam wasn't willing to pay it…at least not with Dean's life.

Anna looked over at him, her eyes brimming with tears. She reached up and wiped at them absently before laughing without any humor. "I can't believe I have any water left in my body to cry anymore."

Sam's face softened and he pulled her into a hug. He didn't have any words of comfort for his love's sister, but he could offer his shoulder. The sounds of the traffic outside Dean's room were a constant dim drone that barely registered anymore. He could feel a cold pain inside him; at least first. Then the burning would begin, the slow hot flame that engulfed his heart and made him want to moan with the intensity of it. He allowed his own feelings to drift to the back of his mind and focused on Anna's needs.

She finally pulled away and sank into an uncomfortable looking plastic chair. "I'm so sorry, Sam. I know that this must be nearly killing you." Anna lifted red-rimmed eyes and smiled. "Have I ever told you how grateful I am for you?"

Sam shook his head and carefully seated himself near Dean's motionless feet. The soft hiss of the oxygen machine the only sounds inside the room.

"You came into Dean's life at a time when he desperately needed someone to accept him for who he was." She shook her head. "Who he is…" Anna swallowed thickly and wiped at her eyes. "Dean is the most unselfish person I have ever known. The things he did for me?" Her voice caught and she looked away to collect herself before continuing. "The things he protected me from…they were unthinkable and he did it without a second thought."

Sam felt his own throat tighten at the reminder of all Dean had suffered as a child. He was staring at the floor between his loafers. He'd leaned forward so his elbows now rested on his knees, and his dark hair had spilled forward over his forehead, dropping nearly to his nose. Anna's soft voice pulled his blue-green gaze back up.

"I didn't know if he would ever be happy again. And then he met you." She lifted her eyes and the first real smile lit up her pretty face. "I've never seen my brother as happy with anyone as you've made him. I will forever be in your debt for that, Sam. I want you to know that." She stood up and picked his lowered face up between her small hands. "I love you for what you've done, Sam. But more importantly?" Her eyes slid over to the sleeping form of her brother. "He loves you. Don't let him push you away because of this."

Sam started to answer her. To deny that he'd ever let that happen, but Anna simply smiled sadly. "He will try, Sam. Whatever Brandon forced him to do? Dean will try and protect you from that by pushing you away. Please don't let him."

Her words forced him to think about what lie ahead for him and the man lying to still just behind him. He knew that the road would be long and extremely difficult. But there was never a doubt that he would see it through. He couldn't imagine his lift without Dean.

Sam's entire life had been tossed upside down that first night in the library. It was the first time that he'd ever felt his heart truly beat for the first time and it had never stopped fluttering for the sexy blonde doctor. How could a person not love someone that save children for hell's sake?

The thought of children brought an idea to him and he lifted his eyes to the door, looking for something. "Is Castiel around here somewhere?" He asked.

"I'm sure he is. What are you thinking?" Anna's question was ignored as Sam hurried from the room in search of her husband.

"Just an idea." He called over his shoulder as he rushed away from the room.

XXXX

An ebb and flow of awareness haunted Dean as he fought to know what was real and what was a dream. Without being able to pull out of the drug induced sleep he was at the mercy of his overactive mind. He had good memories, most of which involved Sam. But he had so many more bad ones that his mind was ripe for the creation of fever-induced dreamscape. Scenes from his life were thrown at him in crystal clear images.

Dean was leaning over the cheap card table that doubled as a kitchen table; his pencil was tapping on the notebook in a rhythm that sounded suspiciously like Metallica. He was concentrating on the math problem so hard that he didn't hear the footsteps that moved up behind him. He jumped when his father's voice boomed from just behind him.

"What the hell you doing boy? You ain't going to no college. You're gonna be just like your old man. Nothing." The whiskey drenched breath stunk as his father laughed at his scrambling attempt to put some distance between them. The folding chair he'd been sitting on skittered backward and toppled over against the wall.

Dean hadn't realized it was so late. Which meant that he had hadn't gone to neighbors to get Anna. Which meant that he was now here alone with his father and there was no way to escape what was coming. All of those things weren't so bad on their own, but when combined with the fact that his father had obviously lost another job and was here to take it out on Dean, it wasn't good.

His green eyes flickered around the place that was supposed to be 'home'. The small apartment was sparsely furnished. A threadbare couch leaned against a far wall, with a couple of crates and a plank created the illusion of a coffee table. A tiny bubble-screen television sat on top another crate with a set of rabbit ears above it to help with the crummy reception. It was a dingy off white color and the carpet should have been replaced two decades ago.

"I didn't know you were home." Dean stammered as he quickly put the flimsy table between them. It wouldn't stop his father if he decided to come after him. But it made the youth feel a little between as he stared at the sloppy form of his father. Dean swallowed the instant fear and the sick knowledge that this was going to be another painful mistake.

"Bastard at the mill called me a drug addict and fired me." The answer was short and clipped, but the rage roiling just beneath the surface was as clear as day. The old man was itching for a fight against someone he knew he could beat. His thirteen-year-old son seemed to fit bill perfectly.

Dean took a step back. This really wasn't going to be good. "I'm sorry." He said, more out of habit than actual sorrow. He realized his mistake too late.

His father's bloodshot eyes flashed up. "Why the hell are you sorry? Did you get me fired? Not everything is about you, boy?" He snarled angrily before taking another swig of cheap whiskey. The amber colored liquid dribbled down his chin and onto his already stained shirt. He tried to wipe at it, but his hand missed the spot completely.

Dean could feel the tension in the room. His legs were itching to run like hell. But he held still. He knew that it would be so much worse if he ran. He'd tried it once and then he'd spent the next hour wandering about the dark city. But when he'd gotten too cold to remain outside and had finally headed home, his father had been waiting. Dean still bore the scars of that mistake. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was about to add to those scars.

He'd never known how his father could move as fast as he did when he was either high or drunk. The knuckles that connected with his cheekbone caught him off guard and he landed hard on the ground, his palm pressed against his face.

The scene morphed and Dean found himself barely conscious and secured to his seat. He could feel the seatbelt pressing painfully into his hips and across his chest. A sudden all encompassing fear sliced through him and it took a moment for Dean to remember what he was so afraid of. SAM!

He struggled to pull himself free of the crushed metal. His leg was dragging behind him and the sick clambering pain barely registered as he pulled himself from the destroyed insides of his beloved car. The street was eerily silent. His blurry vision couldn't make out what had struck him, but he was able to see the lump that must be Sam. "Sammy…" He muttered before he started to drag himself toward the unmoving body of his boyfriend.

No matter how much he struggled he couldn't seem to cover the distance between him and Sam. His body rejected his need to stop and he kept placing one hand in front of the other. He heaved the twisted lower portion of his knee before spilling the contents of his stomach onto the blacktop. A low keen worked its way up through his chest and erupted from him like a wounded animal. The rocks from the asphalt dug into his good knee and his palms burned in a way he'd never felt. But that was nothing compared the despair curling inside him, clamping down on his heart and his ability to breathe.

XXXX

Sam carried Adam down the quiet hallways of the ICU ward. He'd had to get special permission to bring the child onto the floor. But somehow he knew that Dean needed to know that they were there waiting for him. Sam needed the other man to know that both he and Adam would fight for him. He wasn't alone.

He didn't know where the knowledge came from, but Sam knew that there was something wrong before he rounded the corner to Dean's room. The moan that emanated from that room was something that Sam will remember for the rest of his life. He quickened his step and gently shifted Adam to his other arm. Sam swallowed the fear that hid risen up inside him.

The small boy in his arms must have sensed the change in him, because he lifted bright blue eyes to Sam's. "Is Dean okay?" He asked in a small voice.

He wanted to reassure the child. Hell, he wanted to reassure himself, but Sam was all out of reassurances at the moment. Instead he stepped into Dean's room and his heart sunk at the sweat soaked blankets covering his lover's body. The soft cast covering his right arm was hanging just above his chest and his other hand was gripping the rail unconsciously. But it was the moan that had just escaped into the room as Dean's eyes rolled back and forth beneath his clenched eyelids.

Sam didn't know what haunted Dean's dreams. Christ knows he had enough monsters in his past to rip him apart from the inside out. Before he could get lost in the emotional upheaval of his current situation, Adam reached up and grabbed his face. "Set me down."

Never in his life had Sam been ordered to do something by a child. But the very adult tone and sincere eyes did what his judgment couldn't…it listened. He set the child down on the bed, careful of the IV running into Dean's left hand. The blankets were sweat soaked and hugging Dean's thin frame. Adam looked at the man that he'd connected so fully with after only a few visits. His small hand reaching out and brushing along Dean's arm. His lift his worried gaze to Sam and swallowed before looking back at Dean.

"It's okay. The monsters aren't real." He was so quiet when he said it that Sam leaned in to hear carefully. "The monsters aren't real." The little boy repeated the sane over and over again. Dean thrashed one more time and then he seemed to settle under the soft words of the child.

Sam watched and a lump rose in his throat at the effect Adam was having on the fevered delusions that were claiming Dean's mind.

He ran his fingers through Dean's blonde hair and nearly recoiled when he felt the heat rolling off him. "Adam, can you stay with Dean while I go get a doctor to take a look at him?"

Adam nodded eagerly, never removing his hand from Dean's arm. Sam hurried from the room. The boy looked over at the man in the bed. He continued to gently pat the doctor's arm. He was trying to soothe him, but he didn't know if it would make Dean feel better. It always made Adam feel better when someone patted his arm.

For a long time he didn't want anyone to touch him. It hurt too much when people touched him. But then Adam had met the nice lady at the orphanage and then he'd met Dean and Sam. For the first time he began to believe that he could have a family. That maybe he hadn't been a bad kid. That his daddy had just been a really bad daddy…a monster.

"The monsters aren't real." He said one last time.

There was a twitch to Dean's face and then his eyelids fluttered and he opened his good eye. The green gaze landed on Adam and his eyebrow lifted in a slight question before he blinked once and drifted back into a blissfully dreamless state.

TBC…

Author's Note: Thanks for sticking with me through this story. In the next chapter we'll see how Dean's doing and his first real interaction with Sam. What will it take for him to overcome everything he's been through? And will Sam hunt down Brandon? Just a guess…I'm thinking he will. ;-) Thanks for the reviews and the follows.

Please leave a review? Pretty pretty please? Shameless solicitation for reviews.