Sam was surprised a half-hour later to find himself sitting in a dirty bar, alone except for several ner-do-wells whose life's commitment was to drink at 3 in the afternoon. Sardonically laughing to himself, Sam realized that this was much more Dean's thing than his- he could easily picture his brother handling the situation by knocking back a couple of beers; but Dean wouldn't be nearly as affected. Sam was a light-weight and already on his third bud, he was starting to feel uncharacteristically impulsive and moody.

Anger was the main emotion coursing through his veins. His past couple days had been filled with a constant cycle of confusion, fear and overwhelming grief- but he had since used those sensations up. Now was the time for inexplicable rage at the fates that had left his older brother- best friend and protector- unconscious on a hospital bed while doctors performed a "technical" operation that would most likely end in his death.

Sam slammed his empty beer bottle on the bar which warranted several annoyed glances, threw his money down and stalked angrily out to the car. He broke speed limits all the way back to the hospital, occasionally swerving over the center-line; both from intoxication and his livid emotion. After carelessly parking, Sam stumbled into the hospital and soon found himself sitting in the ICU waiting room, engulfed with intense nausea. Sam didn't now if his sudden desire to kneel in front of a toilet was from his drinking or from the rapid realization that he would soon find out if Dean was dead or alive.

When Sam saw Dr. Wagner walking towards him, he attempted to get up, but great waves of dizziness insisted that he remained seated. Instead Dr. Wagner sat next to him and placing her hand on his arm, told him that Dean was…

"…fine and resting."

And then Sam threw-up.

After he had gotten over the shock of complete humility, thrown-up half his stomach and had apologized to both Dr. Wagner and the poor, old janitor whose duty it was to clean his mess, Sam found himself standing in the doorway of the private room where Dean was sleeping.

Sam was utterly relieved to note that there was color back in Dean's face, and his expression was not one of pain but contented slumber. Sam found himself smiling for the first time in days and almost giddy with the effect had to fight back a laugh so as not to wake Dean. Joyfully, Sam plopped down in the seat next to the bed and waited.

Waiting this time was not nearly as excruciating an experience as last time. This time Sam waited for Dean to wake, for green-eyed smiles and witty aphorisms and maybe even the mullet-rock. Eventually Sam fell asleep- he had planned on waiting, wide-awake to experience Dean's revival first-hand but his lack of sleep had caught-up to him and soon enough he was tilted precariously, snoring rapturously.

Dean awoke to what his drug-addled mind perceived as some sort of truck or perhaps a vacuum cleaner creating an extreme ruckus. Blinking back hours of sleep and body-wrenching pain, Dean discovered his little brother Sam- not so little anymore by the fact that he was hanging half-off a chair- and snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Well, it had woken him anyway.

"Sam," Dean croaked before realizing that a clearing of his throat was in order. "Sammy," he repeated more clearly and watched as his brother startled and slipped right of the chair onto the floor.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed as he discovered Dean's resurgence.

"I didn't wanna wake you, but you were falling off," Dean laughed and coughed in turn.

"Are you okay?" Sam anxiously asked, once again fearing that the coughing was a bad sign.

"Sammy, I just had heart surgery- I don't think a little coughing is a cause for alarm," Dean smiled his brilliant smile that Sam had truly missed. Sam returned the smile with one of his dimpled-own and dragged his chair closer to Dean's bed.

"Don't ever do this to me again man," Sam griped. "Not only did I have to practically live in the hospital, I just made the biggest fool of myself by getting drunk and puking all over the waiting room."

Dean's laugh/cough continued for what seemed hours as Sam sullenly watched on attempting to smile. "I can't believe you threw-up!" Dean gasped before calming himself and looking at Sam.

"But you know you missed me too."

"Yeah, I did," Sam admitted easily, glad that Dean was off of the throw-up story.

"Look, I'll make it up to you," Dean chided, gently punching Sam in the arm.

"How?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"Well, how bout you get to drive and pick the tunes on the way out of here," Dean answered slowly with a smile.

"Alright, you got yourself a deal," Sam joined in the smiling and reached out to grasp his brother's hand in a firm and emotion-filled handshake.

A week later…

"Thank God I'm out of that hospital," Dean complained as Sam helped his still injured body into the passenger side door. "I thought I was gonna die of boredom."

"Oh, don't be such a drama queen," Sam laughed as he plopped down in the driver seat and reached for the radio dial.

"So what are we listening to?" Dean prodded cautiously.

"Oh, you'll see," Sam answered with a grin stretching from ear to ear.

Two hours later…

"Sam, I swear I'm gonna kill you!" Dean yelled as he banged his head miserably against the car window. "This was not part of the deal!"

Sam just laughed and continued to sing along at the top of his lungs …

"IF YOU WANT TO... I CAN SAVE YOU… I CAN TAKE YOU AWAY FROM HERE…! SO LONELY INSIDE… SO BUSY OUT THERE…AND ALL YOU WANTED WAS SOMEBODY WHO CARED!

"God, I love Michelle Branch!" Sam howled as he laughed at Dean's disgruntled countenance.

"Yeah? Well I hate you!" Dean yelled back…

…and the Impala raced down a rain-slicked road, bearing two brothers sharing a bond that couldn't be broken, headed towards the next gig, the next town, the next day.

-End-

So what do ya think? It's finally done. It's been fun- maybe I'll write again sometime… hope you all enjoyed!