There is a reference made to Good Will Hunting twice in this chapter. I don't pretend to own that either...

Remember, there wasn't really a cliffie last chapter so...

Chapter 5

As the hours grew longer and the night slowly gave way to the dawn, Dean sat and watched his brother's chest rise and fall. He watched his father's chest rise and fall as well, wondering how it was that the man could sleep when his youngest son was tethered to a bed, incapable of breathing on his own, and had come that close to death. The older boy could find no respite from his guilt, and so he kept watch over Sam, intent on keeping anything from disturbing him. If he ignored the wires and tubes, the stark white bandages and tape, and the pale skin that peeked out from under the gauze, it looked like his brother was simply sleeping.

But Dean knew better. He knew that Sam rarely slept on his back, 'preferring' to be plagued with nightmares until his head ended up pillowed on his brother's thigh. He knew that the boy's hands were usually clenched around a small stuffed fox that Dean had given him for his seventh birthday. And if that weren't enough, every time Dean closed his eyes, he was painfully brought forced to see Sam flying through the air and landing haphazardly on the ground some feet away.

The older boy sighed, squeezed his baby brother's fingers more tightly for an instant, reminding Sam that he was there, and lay his head back down on the bed. He was subconsciously counting the number of breaths he took and then comparing it to the number Sam took. He found the comparison soothing, and he soon found himself being lulled to sleep.

Dean was woken by two distinct voices arguing. He easily recognized his father's voice and was instantly alert. The boy hadn't recognized the female voice, but that didn't mean it wasn't a threat, and he sought his father for confirmation that he shouldn't be running for the pistols in the car.

"I don't care what your rules say! I am NOT leaving my son alone to wake up by himself in some strange room with a tube down his throat. You don't know my boy; you don't know what that would do to him. He's only eight years old for Christ's sake!"

Dean slid into a now familiar position, just behind and to the right of his father; protecting his brother without even realizing it. He tried to figure out why they were arguing about staying with Sam.

"Sir, I know that you are concerned about Samuel, but we only allow visiting hours from ten to noon and from five to seven. We've already stretched those rules to let you stay last night. You need to think of your other son. Take him home, get him cleaned up, and come back later. Sam will still be here; we are perfectly well-equipped to handle any emergency that arises."

"You don't understand. My son has panic attacks; they've always been triggered by not knowing where either Dean or I are. You won't be able to calm him down if we aren't here, and the doctor said that he could kill himself if he stresses out his lungs. We aren't leaving."

"At least call someone to take your other son out of here for a little bit?"

"I'm not leaving Sammy. No way lady, it isn't happening. I'm staying right here until he wakes up. I need to." Dean turned to his father. "You won't let them make me leave, will you Dad?"

John shook his head no. "Look, we aren't leaving Sammy. You're wasting your time with this."

"I can call security."

"You don't want to try that, believe me; it won't do any good." Dean glared. Don't you realize that visiting hours aren't for us? Those are for normal people. We need to see that Sammy's all right; I need to know that he's all right. I can't do that if I can't see him. I swear lady; I'll get myself hit by a car of my own if it means staying with Sammy.

"Dean, be quiet. Go check on your brother." John glared at the boy; what part of 'don't show off your advantage too early' didn't he get?

Dean nodded and headed back to the padded chair that he swore would have his imprint in it before long. He climbed up into it, sitting on his knees and grasping his brother's hand with his own. Why can't she just see that I need Sammy as much as he needs me right now?

The boy heard voices rising again, but there was nothing else he could do about it, so he concentrated on Sam's breathing again. He had completely shut everything else out when he felt his father's hand on his own. Dean looked up to see several security guards standing at the doorway, none of them looking too happy about having to kick a twelve-year old and his father out of the PICU room.

"We're just going to go home and get Todd for Sam, get you some clean clothes and some food, and then we'll be back. It'll be all right, Dean, I promise you." John looked heartbroken at having to separate his boys, and looked downright distraught when he saw Dean's eyes. There was fear there, and guilt; those hadn't left him since Sam had been hit. But now there was absolute hatred and anger, as well as dejection and an utterly forlorn look in them. To him, it seemed that despite the myriad of emotions in his son's eyes, the boy was hollow inside. He had been one half of a pair for so long that he didn't know what to do without it.

Dean wondered what had made his father so unsure of himself that he was going to go down without a fight. He figured, however, that if whatever it was was stronger than his father, then he had no chance against it. Blinking away tears again, swearing that he wouldn't cry, the boy nodded and bit his lip, leaned over his brother and laid a light kiss on his forehead and swiped the long blond locks from his forehead, and got up from the chair.

"We'll be back soon, Sammy; I promise you that," Dean whispered as he allowed himself to be led towards the door.

They hadn't made it ten feet down the corridor when the two Winchesters heard the monitors in Sam's room go off. Eyes wide, they raced the doctors back to the small room.

Dean was held back by two burly security guards as the doctors pushed past him into the room. They spoke frantically about Sam's heart rate skyrocketing, and adrenaline causing his lungs to overwork. Dean stomped his foot down the man's shin to his left, and twisted his arm out of the other man's grip. He bolted to his brother's side, ducking under a doctor's grasp and jumping back into his chair. Glaring at the nurse who had just previously tried to rip him from his brother's room, the boy stroked Sam's head and tangled his fingers in his brother's.

"Sammy, no, I'm sorry. So sorry, Sammy; we aren't going anywhere. Don't worry, kiddo; we're right here, me and Daddy both. Don't worry, Sammy boy, just calm down for me and go back to sleep okay? I'll be right here." Dean kept repeating himself over and over as Sam's heartbeat slowed and his back settled against the bed once more. The older boy hadn't taken a breath since running to Sam's side, and when he was sure his kid brother was all right again, he panted at the exertion and glared at everyone around him. "This is why we don't leave him alone. Visiting hours mean nothing to us."

So it was that three days later, neither Dean nor his father had changed or done much more than wash their faces in the adjacent bathroom, making sure that one of them was always at Sam's side. They were oblivious to the comings and goings of the various doctors and nurses, listening only half-concerned when any of them tried to talk to either of them, and concentrating solely on willing the boy in the bed to wake.

Sometime earlier that morning, the doctors had finally concurred that if Sam continued to improve over the next six hours they would remove the ventilator, and as the time approached, Dean found himself more and more nervous.

"Dad?"

"Hmm…yeah Dean?" John was barely awake, having taken the night shift watching the two boys sleep and condemning himself to what he was putting them through.

"What did Sam's teacher say a couple of weeks ago? About him goofing off in class?" He said this as he stared at the textbook his teacher had brought by. The book was untouched in the corner of the room.

"He's being disruptive and not paying attention. Sounds like we have another Dean in the family. I hadn't gotten the chance to talk to him yet. Figure we'll be moving on again now that this poltergeist is taken care of anyway."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and looked at his brother. "I don't think that's it, Dad. As much as I'd love him to be on my side about us being in school being pointless, I don't think he'll ever think that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well…" how to get around this without getting in trouble for pawning his homework off on the younger boy? "I think we may have a resident genius in the family." There, just say it and maybe he won't ask too many questions.

"And how do you figure that?"

Damn. "I…uhh…I found him doing my math problems the other day when you were off working. He's really good at them, Dad. I don't think he's just not paying attention in school; I think he's just bored."

The conversation was halted as two doctors came in, looking overly official with their matching lab coats and clipboards. They made a show of checking all of Sam's vital signs, jotting things down and conversing quietly between themselves. Dean was on edge, unsure of what was really going on.

"His vital signs are looking good. We're a bit concerned that he hasn't tried to wake up yet, but all things considered, that may be the best thing for him right now. We're going to try taking him off the ventilator now and see how he handles that. We'll need the two of you to back away for a few minutes." The men had both been warned at the apparent consequences of making them leave.

John nodded, pulling Dean to the far corner of the room, and holding him steady in front of him. He could tell that the boy wanted more than anything to hold his brother's hand through this, but he wouldn't let his oldest son be in the way.

It all happened so quickly. The tube had been pulled and Sam's eyes had opened instantaneously; his still-blue orbs darting around wildly and his arms pulling hard against the restraints. He had spent the first few moments coughing forcefully; sounds that grated on Dean's ears as it felt like his own throat was raw and stinging as Sam's must. Small, strangled cries had come from his throat, words still far from forming, and Dean could see Sam clutching at the blankets, at the steel guard rails. He was tossing and turning on the bed, trying to break free; neither Winchester had ever seen him so frightened.

Dean pulled at his father's arms, unable to get free, and called out to Sam. He watched as the doctor with his back to him lifted a syringe and eased it into the boy's IV line. The eight-year old went limp almost immediately, and the monitors returned to normal.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?" Dean was still pulling at his father, the one person whose hold he had never been able to break. His arms were crossed in front of him, his wrists each grabbed by one of John's hands. He was sure that this was what being in a straightjacket felt like.

"Don't worry, kid. His body is still too weak to deal with any adrenaline increases, so we had to sedate him. It's just like he's in a coma now; he's fine."

"They said that it was too dangerous to medically induce a coma for him! You're going to kill him!" Dean sagged against his father, hoping that the doctor's would tell him he was wrong.

"Don't worry about it, kid." Dean rolled his eyes in spite of his worry. "He just woke up; you saw that yourself. So we aren't worried about the concussion any more. His brain is quite capable of waking him up when it needs to, so now we can do its work for him, and let him heal. He should be fine now." The younger of the doctors undid the last buckle on the restraints, coiling them both in his hand and handing his clipboard to his colleague to co-sign. The two left without allowing any more questions and both ruffled Dean's hair as they did so. Dean scowled.

Dean wasn't really sure when he had fallen asleep; sometime after he had raced back to Sam's side and made sure for himself that his brother was breathing fine on his own. There were slight wheezes coming from the boy's lips, but they didn't sound too bad, and John hadn't worried about them. Dean, however, was indeed worried. He couldn't quite put his finger on it; it wasn't the wheezing, Sam had sounded like that when he had been sick last winter, and he was just fine. Something had thrown Dean off when Sam had woken, though, and he wanted to figure out what it was.

Sometime after that, Dean knew he had eaten the slice of pizza that his brother's day nurse had slipped him. She had even brought him a few comic books earlier in the week, and Dean was finding himself really starting to like her. It seemed to him that she was the only one who actually cared about, not just for, his brother and family; and it didn't hurt that he thought she was easily the most attractive one on the staff.

But now, Dean was caught in the throes of a nightmare, and he wasn't even sure he remembered where he had fallen asleep.

The woods were dark and silent. The boys were both immediately on edge. He didn't know why they were there, only that he didn't seem to have any weapons with him, and that couldn't be helpful. He wasn't sure why his brother was there either; Sam wasn't old enough to hunt yet. He heard a howling in the distance, followed by a scream that pierced his ears, and a laugh that sent shivers up and down his spine. All the boy knew was that they needed to get out of there and quickly. He pulled on his brother's hand and then they were running through the trees, calling for their father and hoping they could make it out to the safety of the Impala. He never noticed when his brother started to lag behind, definitely couldn't see his brother trip over the log. But he heard the shout for help and turned on a dime, calling out for his father to help him find the one he'd lost. A familiar feeling of dread settled in his stomach and…

Dean woke up with Sam's name threatening to erupt from his lips. The older boy was shaking and had to physically look at the hand he still clasped to assure himself that it had truly been a dream. He hadn't dreamt about this in almost six years, but the images were so fresh that they hurt him.

The boy looked to see his father curled in the small easy chair in the corner of the room, knowing that as long as the man was there nothing could hurt either of the boys, but still he was frightened. He kept watch on his father as he stood up; stretching out his now seldom-used legs, and placed his brother's hand almost reverently by his side. Catching his breath finally, Dean pulled down the guard rail and carefully climbed up next to Sam. The bed was slightly raised at the boy's head, and Dean situated himself there, careful of the wiring, curling around Sam's head and laying his hand lightly on his brother's chest. He was comforted by the easy rise and fall and soon found himself being lulled to sleep again. He couldn't lose his brother; not ever.

Dean felt the hand lightly lying on his back before he registered that he was waking up. He groaned and opened his eyes, oblivious to the light that was streaming down on him again. Cindy, his favorite nurse, was standing over him, lightly shaking his shoulder.

"Dean, sweetheart; I need you to wake up for me."

Dean groaned again and pouted, but raised his head at the smell of coffee.

"If you get off Sammy's bed for me, I'll make sure your father thinks this is hot chocolate, Dean. Come on, kiddo."

Dean smiled and rolled off the bed, taking the coveted liquid and sitting in the chair, still unwilling to stray far from his brother's side. "Whatcha doin'?"

"I'm going to check his stitches; it's been almost ten days, so most of them can probably come out. Then I'll clean him up a little and be done, and you can go back to sleep up here." She smiled warmly at the boy.

"I was just…in case he needed me…you know?" Dean's cheeks were flush red now.

"Of course. He needs his brother close by to know he's safe." She quickly pulled down Sam's gown and carefully peeled back the gauze padding.

Dean then saw for the first time just how many stitches his brother had from this whole mess. He bit back a quiet gasp and bit his lip. He had to stifle a grimace of pain when he realized that all the worrying he had done on his lip had given him a canker sore. He silently berated himself for caring about the small inconvenience when his brother's whole chest was a roadmap of cuts and incisions.

He watched, enthralled, as every one of the stitches was thankfully removed, and then as Cindy very softly cleaned off his brother's chest and face. She pulled the gown from the bed and began to replace it with another one from the room's cupboard.

"Umm…" he didn't want to seem like an inconvenience.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Do you have one of those things that maybe doesn't have clowns on it?"

"Why?"

"Umm…Sammy's kind of petrified of them. I don't want him to wake up and see them." Something made Dean pause at that and think of his weird feeling from the day before, but he pushed it away.

"Sure. I know Halloween's gone by, but there's one with jack-o-lanterns?"

"Well…sure, that's fine I guess."

"Dean?"

"We don't really do Halloween, but it's fine."

"Oh. Here's one with race cars. How about that?"

Dean grinned. "That's perfect."

Late that afternoon found Dean curled up on his brother's bed once more, staring at the new comic book. He was shocked out of his daze when the head under his own jolted.

"Sammy?" The boy held his breath.

"Dean?" The small voice was music to Dean's ears.

"I'm right here, Sammy. It's gonna be okay now." Dean was concerned when he felt his brother's chest rise and fall more quickly beneath his fingers. "Sammy? Sam, what's wrong? What is it? I'm sorry for..."

"Dean?" The older boy watched as Sam lifted his small left hand to his face, stopping it just in front of his eyes and then proceeding to swipe at them, pulling each eyelid down and letting it come back open.

"Dean, I can't...I can't see."

TBC…

There. Look, see I made Sammy wake up, so everything's better now. Right? There's a good ending here, and everything is just fine, right? I could totally end the story here and everyone would be perfectly happy? Yes? Why are you all looking at me like that? - Hides behind a large horde of attack dogs in acave in a remote location...an unihabited one- I'll update soon I hope...should be okay with a normal posting schedule as long as I finish this up before Christmas hits...