Unconditional

Part 4

There was something very wrong with his brother. Dean's mind was in turmoil, nudging and whirling with fear and thoughts. He watched as Sam shivered and he had to snap out of it long enough to press the call button. A nurse came rushing in seconds later. The look on her unhappy face clearly said , 'I told you so.'

Dean ignored her, as he put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder and another on his back, tracing reassuring circles of comfort.

At first, Sam was not even aware of their presence, he was lost in his own dark world, but then Dean's insisting voice somehow managed to penetrate the fog clouding his mind. Sam was aware that his brother was near- or was his mind playing tricks on him again?

"D-dean!"

"I'm here, Sammy. It's okay, now."

"Dean," Sam struggled to rise and fumbled feebly with his hands until he caught hold of his brother's shirt and grabbed on, refusing to let go.

"Dean," he trembled and shook, but he'd be damned if he'd let anyone tear him away from Dean.

"Sam, you're allright now. It's okay," Dean kept reassuring his brother until he lost count of what he was saying.

"Dean," Sam whispered urgently against his chest, "take it off. Take it off. I can't stand it. Please take it off me."

Dean was confused, not understanding what his brother was talking about. "Do you mean the IV, Sam? It has to stay on, little brother."

Sam shook his head against him, and then started to mumble incoherently. The nurse who had left them at some point returned with more staff members.

But it was Dean who got Sam back to his bed at the end. Now that Sam was settled back on his bed, they all could see the self inflicted damage to his arm. Dean shuddered. What happened here? Did Sam do this to himself? Dean was confused, and the thought that his brother had intentionally hurt himself scared him.

He stepped away and watched silently as they injected yet more sedatives into Sam's IV bag and cleaned his wounds.

O0O0O0O0O0O0O

When later asked what happened to his arm, Sam said that the pain hit him suddenly hard and he unconsciously hurt himself, which wasn't completely a lie.

The doctor accepted that explanation, but Dean knew there was something deeper. His brother was holding a secret from him, and Dean vowed to find out what it was.

Few days after the incident, Sam began to improve, to his doctor's surprise. "I'd call this a miracle," he had told Dean, "Your brother improved in one week where others in his condition took a month."

Dean had to smile at that. "Well, it kind of runs in the family."

"I agree," the doctor confessed, "Your father survived miraculously. You guys are very lucky."

"Hear that, Sammy? You did very good, I'm so proud of you," Dean winked as he tousled Sam's hair playfully. Sam slapped Dean's hand off. "Cut it off Dean."

The doctor smiled.

"When can I leave?"

"It's too early for that. But if you keep improving like this, it would be very soon."

"I feel fine."

"Well, let's wait for another week and see, shall we?"

Dean nodded but Sam frowned.

The doctor laughed at Sam's unhappy expression, and left the two brothers alone.

"You really look beat, Dean," Sam observed with a frown.

"Look who's talking!"

"I think you look worse than I do," Sam said with a tone laced with sadness.

"What is it now?"

Sam sighed. "You should rest Dean. I'll be fine. You can go sleep in a real bed for a change."

Dean noticed the hesitation in Sam's voice. "I'm fine. I don't need to go anywhere."

Sam shook his head but didn't ask again. Although he knew his brother needed rest badly, a part of him didn't want him to leave him alone. Sam realised that when Dean was around, all painful thoughts would go away. When Dean was around, he wouldn't think of what happened. When Dean was around, he felt safe. So he didn't want Dean to leave and he felt guilty for his selfishness.

"I like it here."

Sam managed to cast him a smile. When they were left alone, it felt almost normal. Almost like nothing bad had happened, and Sam could pretend that everything was back the way it used to be.

Dean sat on Sam's bed, shuffling cards and eating a sandwich. Sam had eaten part of his to satisfy Dean. But what Dean didn't know was that as soon as he left to get himself a cup of coffee, Sam had sled off to the bathroom and lost his lunch.

"Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"How come you never asked about dad?"

Sam stiffened and inwardly kicked himself.

Dean brought his eyes up and stared at his brother's expression.

"I know he's okay."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because you seem okay."

Dean blinked. "I seem okay? ..."

"Yeah, if anything happened to dad, you wouldn't be okay."

"Man, you really are observant, aren't you?"

Sam forced a smile.

"But I'm worried," Dean confessed grimly, "He wouldn't answer my calls lately."

"I'm sure he's okay," Sam offered hesitantly.

"How do you know that?"

"Dad can take care of himself, Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean was about to snap at his brother but stopped himself. "Sam," Dean whispered quietly, "What's wrong with you?"

Sam stiffened. "Nothing's wrong with me, Dean. I'm fine."

Dean sighed. Both of them knew that Dean wasn't referring to Sam's physical status.

They had been at this for more than a week now, and Dean was getting restless. He was worried about his dad who hadn't been answering his phone calls. And although Sam seemed to be physically improving, Dean worried about him too, because deep down he knew there was something very wrong with his brother.

Sam began to walk around on his own, although not without crutches and a considerable amount of pain.

That night, Sam was on his bed after a tiring walk, he was beat, and his legs started to throb.

"You okay?" Dean started to hover and Sam squinted at him.

"I just need to rest. Pretty tired."

Dean nodded and turned to pack some stuff he brought for Sam. When he turned back, Sam was looking at him with wide worried eyes. "Dean," Sam licked his lips, "You're bleeding," Sam indicated the corner of his mouth.

Dean frowned then wiped a hand over his own mouth and stared blankly at the red stain in his hand.

"Dean?"

Dean raised his head and looked at Sam. "Sam, I don't feel that good," he mumbled, before he started to slip sideways.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed, already pushing the call button and shuffling his weight out of bed.

The current staff rushed into the room, and in few seconds, Sam's view of his brother was blocked.

Sam's heart began to race and he fumbled with the covers, already beginning to raise. A head popped up from his left. It was none other than nurse Layne.

"Sam, take it easy now," she said calmly, pushing the young man back into bed.

"What's wrong with him? I have to see him!"

"We're taking care of him now, Sam. Don't worry, I think he's only tired." She kept talking and distracting him, but Sam felt there was something wrong, and found out exactly what the following moment as he caught another nurse out of the corner of his eye injecting something into his IV bag.

"No," Sam cried urgently, eyes huge and terrified, "please, don't. I need to know what's wrong with him! Please, don't put me to sleep. I have to stay..." but even as protesting words left his mouth, Sam knew he was loosing the fight. He felt his world slip out of focus, and the lights go blurry.

"It's okay Sam. Everything is going to be fine," Layne put a restraining hand on Sam's chest and didn't let go until she was assured the young man was finally asleep. Only then did she let go, and turn back to where they still worked on Dean.

O0O0O0O0O0O0O

Someone was near, he could feel the warm presence of someone close. Someone was touching him, stroking his hair affectionately, and it made him feel all warm and nice inside. Someone was talking to him, but Sammy didn't quite make out who.

"Dean?" he murmured the first logical choice in his mind, but even as the single word left his mouth, he knew it wasn't his brother. It wasn't Dean. Dean was hurt. Dean was bleeding, and fell in front of his eyes and he couldn't do anything to help.

Sam's eyes snapped open and searched the room frantically .

"It's okay Sammy."

Sam gasped and pulled away from the hands that were trying to touch him, fear masking his eyes. "Don't!"

John was taken aback by the fear and repulsion his youngest son showed , and it tore his heart. He pulled away and settled with watching his son from distance.

"Sam, it's me."

Sam blinked and hissed and finally when breathing became easy again, he could think. "Dad?" he asked cautiously, and John nodded affirmatively.

"But Dean said you weren't coming back." the instance his brother's name left his lips, Sam began to panic. Fear gripped his heart and before his father could respond, he began to shift wildly, trying to get off his bed. "Dean," Sam spoke urgently, "he was bleeding. He-"

"It's okay, Sam," John assured him as he stepped closer again and laid a strong hand on his shoulder. "Dean will be okay."

"Really?" Sam was skeptical.

"Yeah," John smiled slightly, "Really."

Sam settled back and released a breath he was holding. "What's wrong with him?"

"He is exhausted. He was hurt very badly but didn't give his body a chance to heal properly. He was lucky it didn't go farther than that. His body is taking all the rest it needs right now. He's passed out, and they tell me he might stay that way for awhile. "

Sam looked down, guilt masking his features.

"It's not your fault, Sammy."

"Yeah, I wonder whose fault is it?" Sam said bitterly, "He was taking care of me, that's why he got sick."

John shook his head, "He's your brother. Of course he'd take care of you."

Sam remained quiet for a moment, then looked up at his father, his look unreadable. "How come you're here?"

"You don't look happy to see me Sammy."

Sam flinched but remained silent.

John inhaled then held Sam's gaze pointedly. "It was a trap. The demon was leading me into a deliberate trap."

Unrecognized emotions ran across Sam's face and John frowned at his son. "What are you not telling us Sammy?"

Sam breathed. "Nothing," he said too quickly and John's frown deepened.

Looking down at his arm, Sam noted the missing IV needle.

"They took it off," John confirmed and noticed the flicker of relief passing across Sam's face. He sighed, "Can you walk?"

Sam was tempted to say no, but he knew the lie wouldn't work on his father, so he nodded wordlessly.

"Let's take a walk, son."

"I want to see Dean," Sam blurted heatedly, hoping that his dad would change his mind about their walk and let him stay with Dean instead.

John nodded, then gave Sam a hand until the younger Winchester made it to the ground on his own feet. John grabbed the crutches and handed them to his son, and Sam thanked him quietly.

Dean was still in a deep sleep, unaware of the real world around him. Nurse Layne sat at his side, and looked up when the two Winchesters entered the room. She smiled at both.

"Ms. Layne," John nodded his greeting. The old nurse stood and for the briefest moment the two exchanged a meaningful stare that did not go unnoticed by Sam. He was puzzled but didn't make a comment.

"I'll leave you three alone," and she left them. Sam almost grabbed her arm and begged her to stay. He was afraid to stay with his father in the same room. Afraid of the questions he'd ask him and of the accusation he'd throw at him.

Sam stepped to Dean's bed and stared at his brother's still form. Dean looked like he was sleeping peacefully. And Sam was almost tempted to call his name and shake him awake.

He had almost forgotten his father's presence, until John place a rough hand on his shoulder reminding him. John felt Sam tremble slightly under his touch and dropped his hand quickly.

"Let's go, Sam."

"Where?" Sam could hear his own heart beat, his throat went dry, "I want to stay with Dean. It's the least I can do."

"We're going to take a short walk, then we'll come back to check on your brother," John made sure the authority in his voice did not go unnoticed, and it didn't. Sam's lips thinned into a line, and his face paled, but he did nod, and with a last glance at his brother, he left with his father.

"Let's take the elevator."

Like he could use the stairs! ...

The walk to the elevator was a silent one. Sam was for once grateful for the crutches since they provided him with the distraction he needed. He shut his mind and solely concentrated on using the crutches.

The elevator was busy, and they stood waiting quietly.

"You okay?" John asked casually, observing Sam's every move.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"The doctor thinks you're improving very well."

"Yeah." Sam desperately wanted his father to leave him alone, but didn't have the courage to ask.

"Sam," John's voice turned hard, "What are you so afraid of, son?"

Sam stilled, and paled even more. "I-I'm not afraid, dad."

John was about to speak again but the elevator arrived, and they were joined by a doctor. The doctor smiled at John and the three stepped into the elevator without a word.

Sam closed his eyes and tried to ignore his father. John watched his youngest son unsteady posture, and frowned even more.

"You disappoint me, Sammy."

The two Winchesters froze at the hollow evil-laced voice. The elevator came to a sudden halt, jolting the three occupants with force.

Both John and Sam turned to the owner of the voice, the doctor, and immediately noted his yellow glinting eyes that were staring mockingly at them.

Sam's eyes widened with unspeakable fear and he staggered back, pressing his body against the elevator wall hard.

The demon smiled.

John's eyes shifted fast between the demon and his son, then back to the demon. He felt the anger, hate and rage of all the past years surface. "You son of a bitch," he hissed, "I'm going to kill you."

The demon laughed soundly. "I wouldn't be too confident if I were you." His eyes pulled back to Sam, and his smile widened broadly.

The look the demon gave Sam ignited a new emotion within John- a feeling beyond his desire for revenge, beyond his anger and hate. His protective instincts toward his youngest son overtook him, and at that moment all that mattered to John was to keep his son out of the demon's reach, which surprised him most of all.

He stepped protectively in front of his son and fixed the demon with a withering stare that held all the hate and anger he felt.

The demon's smile never left his face as he looked squarely into John's eyes.

"Sammy, you haven't told them, have you?" The demon spoke to Sam but looked at John.

Sam's breath hitched and he fought to remain standing and focused.

"You stay away from my son," John warned, yet both he and the demon knew he couldn't do anything-he was powerless and weaponless at the moment.

"Your son?" the demon mused, "he stopped being your son the day I came into your house- the day I killed your wife. That day I claimed him, and since that day he belonged to no one but me."

"How dare you!" John struggled for control as he stared at the object of his hate and loathing. "You killed the most important person in my life. I'm not going to let you take another."

The demon's smile dropped as he approached John. John held his ground, and stared, head high at the demon. "You're not going to let me? That's a joke! You can't even stop me."

"I told you I'm going to kill you."

The smile returned.

"I could spare your life," the demon offered," if -"

"Save it," John cut him off sharply.

"I thought so." The demon then turned to Sam who was looking at him unblinkingly. "How would you feel if I killed your daddy right now, Sam?"

There was a moment of stillness before Sam's small voice made it. "Don't."

"Then stop fighting me, Sammy. You know you can't stand against me. You know I own you."

Sam blinked.

"You know that, don't you Sam?" Before John could react, the demon had left the doctor's body causing it to drop lifelessly into the elevator's floor, and he watched horrified as it penetrated his son's body. Sam gasped and sled to the ground, a dead weight. John hurried to his son's side, and before he reached him, he saw the dark smoke leave Sam's body and vanish into the ground. He cursed helplessly as he crouched next to his son's lifeless body.

"Sammy?" John whispered, his hand immediately going to his son's neck, searching for a pulse. Fear gripped his heart when he found none. "Sam!" John could tell his son wasn't breathing. And when he pressed his head against his son's chest his fear was confirmed: Sam's heart had stopped.

TBC

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A/N

Let me know what you think.