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 SLASH!

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

Previous Chapter:

Hearing the breathy way his name slipped past Dean's lips strengthens Sam's swindling resolve to end all of pulls the last of his strength and makes an uncoordinated move toward the silver 1911. Just as his long fingers close around the cool handle of the gun, Brandon notices his movement. The struggling young man lurches unsteadily to his knees, grabbing the back of the chair and hauling himself up to his full height before pointing the 1911 at Brandon's snarling face. Sam's careful to keep his eyes on the ex-military man. He can't allow the distracted fear that would blind him to everything but Dean's current condition.

He lunges at Sam and that's when the lawyer finally figures out what's been plaguing his side. Brandon locks his good hand around the hilt of the knife that's been imbedded between Sam's ribs. It's only due to the slick blood coating the smooth handle that he doesn't yank it out and drive it somewhere else.

Sam grunts as Brandon's heavy body impacts his weakened one and nearly drops the gun as he stumbles, dropping heavily to his knees. His hands slide down against his sides and nearly blacks out when Brandon makes another grab for the knife, this time succeeding in tearing it from Sam's bloody torso. His body spasms as it reacts to the 'cork' being popped lose from him, the blood now free to flow unfettered down his side. There's a growing pool of crimson beneath his knees that's getting alarmingly large and his fingers are only loosely wrapped around the grip of the 1911.

He looks up as the other man shifts closer to him, only to stare down at him with a cold resolute fury. Sam's mind flips to nearly ten years ago when he first met Dean, the immediate flush of attraction that had confused him for the better part of their first year together. But what had sparked that night in the library had refused to be extinguished and ultimately neither of them had tried very hard. Yet now it looked as though they would both die at the hands of a madman that had bombed an entire hospital trying to exact revenge…a lover scorned…the though flickered through his thoughts as he stared into the insane eyes glaring back at him.

I need just a moment. He needs to look away, just for a moment.

And then the impossible happens. Dean's trembling fingers wrap themselves in the loose material of Brandon's jacket and he tugs the shocked man backwards, giving Sam the moment he desperately needed to focus his dwindling strength and haul the gun up again. Without considering that was going to take another human's life, he pulled the trigger.

The resounding report of the weapon was the last thing he heard before watching the surprised shock register in Brandon's eyes, his hand clutching at the spreading crimson precisely where his heart should have been located. Instead it's just the muscle that pumps the blood through his body that stutters when the bullets rips it apart before lodging somewhere inside him.

His body begins the slow descent toward the floor before tipping forward to land in a crumpled heap.

Sam's world spirals down to a single point and never feels the impact of the floor on his abused body. For a brief moment Sam had seen a light at the end of this long dark tunnel, but then it had been snuffed out by a violent descent into another kind of darkness.

TBC…

End of Previous Chapter –

Chapter twenty-six

Culmination of Events

Sam had no inkling of how long he was wrapped inside the darkness of the universe before something shattered his solace; it breached the enticing bubbles of black that had held his attention. His tenuous connection with the waking world had been severed with a single snip. Snorting, he was surprised when a scene from the Disney version of Hercules bounced through his head, the part where the Fates were cutting the threads of life with their dull scissors.

Glancing up he was forced to shield his eyes from the bright white-hot light that flared to life directly above him, one that felt almost ethereal in nature. That's just stupid Sam. You need to get your head out of the clouds and your feet back on the ground.

A shroud of incandescent light engulfed him and he found himself losing all semblance of time. The only thing Sam remained certain of, was that the warm light appeared to be leading to a place where anguish and sorrow could not exist. He had no idea how he knew that, but he did and Sam found himself being drawn to that place like a moth to the flame.

Unsure of how long he had been staring, like a brain-damaged idiot, into the calm kaleidoscope of colors, he started to wonder if this place was a version of Heaven or Hell? He was certainly alone, so he was positive this wasn't any type of heaven he wanted to be in.

Sam had always hated being alone. But then again, he supposed his Hell could have had elements of this loneliness lacing through it too. So it was quite possible he was actually in hell.

Ultimately, he found he didn't really care. Either way this place was free of the heart-rending pain that had plagued him for the whole of his short life. It wasn't that he didn't remember it; he just didn't give two shits about it at the moment. And the ability to shove it out of his mind was something that he had never been able to do; it was intoxicating.

Without understanding why, Sam found himself moving toward the bright ball of light. The closer he got, the better he felt. The less he cared about the mortal world he was moving away from.

His eyes were constantly shifting to keep track of the swirling mass of colors and he stumbled to a halt when something splintered off and raced straight for him. The small ball of energy refused to let Sam move forward anymore. It wouldn't let him sink into the warmth and the ever-present comforts that were so close he could almost touch them.

The small spinning orb of light darted this way and that like an angry bee before finally starting to grow infinitely larger. Sam found himself backing away as concern trumped curiosity. But like everything in his life it couldn't be that simple, his heel caught on something and he tumbled backward landing on his ass in an unceremonious heap of lanky lawyer. His eyes widened when the light flared in response and he scrambled further away when a shape began to coalesce inside the glowing orb that was now directly in front of him. He surged to his feet. He wouldn't be meeting his death (or whatever the hell this was) sitting on his ass.

Staring in confusion Sam swallowed his shock when he realized that he recognized the essence of the being taking shape before him. The feeling was so overwhelmingly strong that it stole the breath from his lungs and sent him down onto his knees in a boneless sprawl. His palms resting calmly against his jean clad thighs as he stared up in amazement at the sight in front of him.

"Mom?" He breathed out; the disbelief in his tone was palpable.

The shape stepped forward causing a cascade of the emotions that Sam had buried away the day she died. It had been a horrible day when she had lost her battle with cancer leaving him alone in an unforgiving world of isolation and emotional pain. It felt as though she'd just died when in reality it had happened so many years ago. Sam never made peace with her loss; he'd simply locked away those devastating emotions and learned to focus on other things.

Waves of rich mahogany hair fell over her shoulders in the soft perfection he remembered from his youth, the same way it had when she'd been healthy. The picture perfect person in front of him was a far cry from what his mother had looked like at the end. Her skin had been sallow, waxy, and paper thin from the chemo. Her hair had fallen out and her expressive green eyes had taken on a sunken and pained expression that never faded; at least not until she'd pulled in that last rattling breath and the pain had stopped as her face relaxed and she settled into death.

His mother's worried gaze drifted from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet, a slow smile lit up the deep hazel depths that Sam had missed for the better part of a decade as she did. When she'd died, he'd been terrified that he would spend the rest of his life alone, grasping for something he thought he'd never have again, love.

"Sammy?" Her voice was a hybrid tone somewhere between a hope and a prayer. "You're here. " She whispered quietly, a smile pulled at the edges of her lips. Stepping forward, she tugged him down into a tight desperate embrace, one that he was helpless against. "I've waited for so long." She finished softly.

He found his long arms wrapping around his mother just as his nose dropped down to inhale the smell of her, it was Christmas morning; it was the smell ofeverything good from his childhood and it was all rolled into that one breath.

"I missed you." He whispered hoarsely as he finally found his voice and tightened his arms. "So much."

"Oh my baby boy, I've missed you too." Pulling away she reached up gently cupping his face between her long thin fingers. A serene smile spread across her face at what she must have seen. "I am so proud of the man you've become." Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes as she stepped back for a better look. "You're so tall." She finished with a laugh.

Pulling in a shaky breath, "It's been so hard without you."

Her smile dimmed, "You've risen to the challenge quite nicely Sam."

With a twitch of his lips he admitted, "I had help." His eyes unfocused for a moment as Dean's handsome face invaded and overwhelmed his thoughts.

"The doctor." She said simply.

His eyes jerked up, meeting hers as he scanned those depths for any hint of rejection. While they'd never discussed his relationships in detail, he'd known that his mother just wanted him to be happy. And yet when she'd been alive it had never occurred to him that he might find that happiness with a man. This had not been the typical relationship she would have expected. It was one that neither of them could have foreseen and Sam wasn't sure of her thoughts. And that sent an agonizing slice of doubt ping-ponging though him. He chewed at his lower lip in nervous anticipation of her reaction.

With trepidation, he lifted his gaze to hers and saw nothing but growing acceptance, the tight knot of fear binding his heart loosened and drained away into nothingness. "He's my everything." Sam said softly.

"I know, baby boy." Pain clouded her expression as her eyes shifted upward. A bolt of lightning spiraled across the sky. "We don't have much time." Turning her head back to his searching eyes she continued. "You have to know, I have to tell you…" again her gaze lifted, he brown eyebrows drawing together in frustration "…what you and Dean share, it's unusual Sam. Very few people ever find their soul mate, but you have. Even in your darkest moments, there will be light. Baby, find Dean's light and bring it back. He's important to the world." She didn't continue along that line, but shifted onto another thought. "What you have, it's worth fighting every demon inside Dean's Hell. Save him Sam."

If it was possible, his love for the woman that had given up so much for him blossomed into a maelstrom of affection that couldn't be quantified. She understood everything about him and she didn't care. None of his fears had been grounded in anything but his own insecurities.

Another smile broke across her beautiful face as she again pulled him down for another hug. "I love you, baby boy."

The light started to fade and her arms dissipated into wisps of smoke as she drifted back into the ethos. Sam's heart broke at the empty coldness left in his arms, but he shook his head and focused on his task. He had a doctor to save.

XXXX

Dean's heart seized painfully when Sam dropped like a felled tree, not even trying to save his face from slamming into the cold tiled floors. The sickening 'thud' had him swallowing a fear he couldn't begin to control.

"Sammy?!" Dean gasped out hoarsely as he tried to haul his traumatized body from the elevated hospital bed; his heart was hammering inside his chest at the mere thought of losing Sam. He'd expected the doctors and nurses to come flying through his closed door and save the man he loved with all his heart. But no one came and the sticky red stain beneath Sam's body continued to grow at an alarming rate. Dean couldn't watch Sam bleed out on his hospital room floor and the thought of it spurred him into action.

Ignoring flares of pain that erupted along every nerve ending, he forced his damaged body to roll off the bed. Tears sprang forward when he hit the unforgiving floor just as his destroyed right hand slammed down; the agony was indescribable. Electrifying pain scorched along the edges of his vision bursting in flashes of white light nearly forcing him into the waiting darkness. With a strength he wasn't sure he'd still possessed, Dean slid his broken parts toward Sam's unmoving body.

His white blankets wrapped around his ankles, trailing after him like a chain that tethered him to the bed. With a cry of frustration he kicked up sending another blinding wash of anguish cascading through him, but at least his legs came loose of the binding material allowing him to move forward unhindered.

Sam's face was turned away from him which meant that Dean had stop his movements and stare intently at the broad expanse of chest to see if it was moving. He stopped breathing as he watched or the slightest movement. It felt like an eternity before he finally saw the barest shift in Sam's chest.

"Sam?" he whispered and carefully settled himself near his lover's shoulder.

Dean's right hand throbbed and he nearly blacked out several times as he slowly lifted the gauze-wrapped limb, gently sliding his exposed fingertips along the other man's chin. He didn't know what he'd expected. But what he got was exactly, nothing. Sam didn't so much as shift beneath his questing fingers and a sob erupted from somewhere so deep that it felt like his soul was screaming out. A large tear pooled in his right eye before dripping off those long lower lashes that were the envy of his younger sister.

The hot tear dropped onto Sam's shirt, soaking into the material and drawing Dean's green eyes down. With a strangled sound he realized that while he'd been lying here crying like a little bitch, Sam had been bleeding out. Scrambling to force his disobedient body into compliance, Dean folded himself up onto his knees.

The room spun dangerously and bile threatened to spill as he leaned back and twisted his left hand into the blanket that had nearly choked his ankles to death. With a tug that left him breathless with pain, he managed to pull the offending material toward them and then all those years as a combat medic clicked into place. Despite the handicap of his completely useless right hand, he managed to get the blanket into position just as the door finally crashed inward.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" a man exclaimed as he dropped to his knees by Dean. Carefully he placed his hands over the stained red of the injured man's left hand, applying more pressure than Dean was capable. "I've got him, Dr. Winchester."

It was the use of his name that focused Dean enough to realize that he knew this man and it was obvious that he knew Dean. Another set of hands reached down to hand the guy a trauma pad, which replaced the blanket and before he knew what was happening, Sam was being lifted from the floor and placed carefully on a gurney. He squeaked in protest when they rolled the lawyer from the room, "Sammy." He whispered brokenly.

That was the moment his body decided it had had enough and efficiently cut him off from the waking world as it thrust Dean into the sleek darkness of his own mind. Thankfully, he didn't dream this time; he simply slipped away from his troubles and the nearly constant fear.

TBC…

Author's Note: No, I have not abandoned this story. Here's the next chapter to prove that. I will try and get another posted quickly as I know this one leaves you on a bit of a precipice. Thanks for continuing to read and allowing me time to work through the storylines.

If you have a minute please let me know you're out there still reading?