A heartfelt thanks must go to Tiffany for her invaluable support while I was writing this story. As well as taking on the odious task of being my beta reader. This story hasn't been an easy one to write. I got stuck in so many places and it could have easily been left languishing on a table somewhere unfinished, but Tiffany helped tremendously in keeping ideas flowing, encouraging new angles of approach, and literally kept this story alive so I wanted to thank her and also say that it never would have seen the light of day without her help. Thanks again, Tiffany!

Pure Heart and Good Intention

Chapter One

5 Months earlier:

"Dean?"

"Sam?" Dean said, his voice hoarse as he turned to his little brother.

The elder Winchester was hooked up to IVs and felt a constant, dull ache. It was manageable and he preferred controlling the pain rather than being drugged. He needed his senses. Still, he couldn't hold back a grimace as he took in a deep breath.

"You okay? Should I get a doctor -–"

"No doctors, all right? I've been examined, poked, prodded and drained of fluid enough. I'm fine."

As usual, Sam wasn't all together convinced. Dean always kept up the bravado when it came to hiding how much pain he really was in so his little brother wouldn't worry. Sam decided to just let it go for now because he was just glad Dean was conscious.

"How are you holding up?" Dean asked, his face contorting with worry and pain.

"I'm fine, Dean. I'm not the one in a hospital bed --."

"You know what I mean," Dean said as he turned the tables, grimacing again. His chest was throbbing from the wounds and he was finding it harder to breathe.

"I'm okay, really." Sam insisted quietly.

"Is dad still --"

"Wallowing? Yeh, but he'll live to get over it, I'm sure." Sam said sarcastically.

Dean felt the tension building in Sam. He knew that he and their father were probably already fighting. They could never go very long without getting on each other's nerves. He was worried that things would soon come to a boil and he would be helpless to stop it. He was even more worried that blame would be cast because of what happened to him and words would be said that couldn't be taken back causing wounds that might never heal.

Before Dean could call Sam on his comment, he clenched his eyes in obvious pain and his breathing became erratic. He tried to mouth something, but nothing came out, just strangled air.

"Dean? What's wrong? Dean?" Sam panicked. "Somebody! My brother, something's wrong!" Sam yelled.

"S…Sam…" Dean gasped before he stiffened then went still.

Alarms blared and a phalanx of doctors and nurses rushed into the room, pushing Sam out. He became paralyzed as he watched them work on Dean, trying to get his heart to start again.

"Please, no, don't let anything happen to him…not when he's made it this far," Sam's inner voice screamed. "He can't have lived through all this and not make it."

oooo

A couple of weeks later, Sam continued to keep vigil by Dean's bed. A respirator kept Dean breathing, but nothing else stirred. Machines kept reminding Sam that Dean was still alive, like the steady blip of the heart monitor, but the man who was his brother was still silent. The longer he was, the more Sam lost hope of ever hearing his voice again, that scared him more than any demon.

Then suddenly, Sam felt Dean's hand twitch. He looked up at him, Dean's eyes slowly opening. They were tired and rimmed with shadows, but somehow he managed to wink at his little brother. He then weakly lifted his hand and gave him a thumbs-up in reassurance. Even in his condition, he was exerting what energy he had left just to let Sam know he was okay and not to worry. He always found the strength to put Sam first.

oooo

Dean looked over to the passenger side of the Impala, and saw Sam nervously work a hangnail on his finger, something he always did when he was upset or scared. It made Dean worry and ache to help him, but there was nothing he could do except to beat the land-speed record to Missoula, Montana.

It had been 5 months since the three of them had met face to face with the demon that had killed their mother and let get away. In Dean's mind, it was a no-brainer and he had no regrets. Live to kill another day was his feeling, and it hadn't been worth killing their father. Sam seemed okay with that, but he was having a tougher time getting over being helpless to prevent Dean from getting attacked so brutally. Dean kept telling him that the most important thing was that he had survived, but Sam still wasn't buying it.

Their father didn't help either, festering in his own guilt at not being able to prevent the demon from hurting Dean. He had stayed long enough to make sure he had recovered fully and that the medical bills had been paid, but then he had left, leaving a note for his sons, telling them he couldn't endanger them again. That had almost been the last straw for Sam. Dean had been angry at their dad for abandoning them to feed his own guilt without thinking about how it would affect Sam. Sam felt like their father was blaming him for not saving Dean, and for letting the demon get away. Nothing Dean had said would convince him otherwise.

Finally, after Sam had started to become more and more withdrawn, Dean had decided to take drastic measures. He had called Missouri, as much as a part of him dreaded it. She was the only woman who could intimidate Dean into feeling like a five-year-old again.

"Dean Winchester, as I live and breathe. What on earth would possess you to call me at this ungodly hour?"

Dean looked at his watch and realized he hadn't considered the time difference.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking," Dean paused as he tried to swallow down the catch in his throat.

"You sure weren't thinking. What is the matter with you?" She scolded.

"It's Sam. I need your help, Missouri."

Missouri felt the emotion through the phone, and though she had always been a little tougher on Dean, she always knew he had been strong enough to take it. But hearing his voice, sounding frail and lost, her heart broke for him. She couldn't bring herself to treat him like she usually did. That boy loved his brother, Missouri thought to herself, there was no doubt about that.

"You just tell Missouri what's happened."

Dean took a shaky, deep breath and went into detail about what they had gone through the past 5 months.

Missouri listened sympathetically and kept her anger at their father to herself. Dean didn't need that and she had to help them both.

"Dean, honey, tell you what you're going to do. You're going to Missoula, Montana. There's a psychic there stronger that anyone I have ever known. If anyone can help sort out Sam's troubled mind and soul, it will be her. "

"What if –" Dean forced out, his throat clogged with tears he was desperately trying to keep under control.

"We won't cross that bridge just yet, you hear me?" she said softly. "You don't give up on Sam, he needs you more than ever."

"You're right. What do you want me to do?" Dean asked, clearing his throat of emotion and she could feel him taking control again. That boy was a strong one.

Missouri loved the boys like they were her own. They had gone through so much and had come out of all of it as strong as could be expected, considering. She knew that Sam had the gift, or the beginnings of it, and that Dean had been the strength of that family. She had known all along that without his big brother, Sam would never have survived his childhood. She had felt something with Dean as well, but could never pinpoint it. All she knew for sure was that he had single handedly kept that family together.

"That's what I want to hear. Now, do you have pen and paper handy?"

"Yeh."

"Take all this down."

oooo

Dean drove into Missoula and had found the back road that Missouri had told him about. He turned onto it, and as he approached the house, he saw the sign, Esperanza Rivers.

"Sam, we're here," he announced.

Sam looked up as Dean drove up the circular driveway to the front of the house. He shut the engine off and stepped out. Sam followed.

"You okay?"

"Yeh, I'm okay."

Dean wasn't convinced, but he gave Sam the space he needed and didn't question.

They walked up the steps and Dean knocked on the door. It opened immediately and startled them both.

"Sam and Dean, right?" a 50-ish, but youthful woman greeted as she looked from one man to the next, able to identify them even without having met them before.

"Uh, yeh," Dean stuttered, a little caught off guard.

"Come in, come in. Missouri told me you were coming, but nothing else. I wanted to be unclouded, not influenced. Would you like something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine," Dean said, "Sam?"

"I'm okay, too." He said softly.

Esperanza Rivers was a striking woman with jet black, shoulder length hair and dark, soulful brown eyes that seemed bottomless, yet she had a welcoming and comforting smile that helped diffuse the tightly wound tension between Sam and Dean. As soon as they walked in she felt the strongest vibration come from Dean. She knew instinctively that he was the protector.

"Sam, why don't you have a seat there on the couch, while I talk with Dean."

"Me? What? I'm not –" Dean began to object.

"It will just take a minute," she assured Sam then grasped Dean's arm to guide him gently into another room.

"What? What's wrong?" Dean asked, concerned.

"Nothing yet, but I sensed that you're not a believer and I needed to talk to you in private."

Dean understood and stopped his protesting.

"No offense," he apologized.

"None taken, but I have to tell you that no matter what you think of the gift, or of me, I need you be open and responsive for Sam's sake."

"If it helps Sam, you can count on my cooperation."

"What I really need is your faith."

Dean paused.

"I know you question it because of Layla, but go deep within yourself to find whatever you can for Sam."

Dean looked at her, surprised at first that she had sensed his thoughts, then nodded his head.

"Can you trust me?"

Though Dean was inherently distrusting -- an occupational hazard -- she gave off a warmth, and something intangible he couldn't label, that made him feel that he could trust her on sight alone. That, and her uncanny read of him solidified it for him. She made him feel secure like his mom used to. It felt like she was in the room with him.

"She is," Esperanza said, surprising him again. "She's here with us. She is always with the both of you, but I feel her here now. She loves you both very much."

Dean swallowed hard. "She's here?"
"Yes."

"But how? Missouri told Sam that she had…"

Dean couldn't bring himself to say that she had been destroyed at their house, that she had sacrificed herself to save them from the poltergeist. Just remembering seeing her, hearing her voice say his name after 22 years of silence, shook him.

"She lost her ability to intervene like she had at your house, but her essence can never be destroyed, her love for both of you will live on forever and can transcend all barriers. I can feel her, and through me, she can tell you things you need to know."

Dean was struggling to keep his composure.

"She feels your pain, Dean. You don't need to say anything, she hears you without having to hear your voice. Your heart speaks to her and she feels it ache for Sam."

"Sam needs to hear that. He needs to know she's here."

"I know, and he will. Now, will you trust me?"

"Yes," Dean said without hesitation.

"Good, then stay here while I read Sam. I sensed that there's a part of him that is scared to death, and though I don't know why, I do feel that he'll hold back with you in the room, not to hurt you, but to keep you from hearing what he fears. Do you understand?"

Dean nodded. "Do what you need to do."

She took Dean's hands into hers and squeezed them in comfort. She felt a wave of uncertainty, fear, and love hit her.

She left the room and closed the door behind her. She went over to Sam and sat in front of him on an ottoman.

"Where's Dean?" he asked.

"He's in the other room. I feel that reading people one-on-one is best. It's more relaxing and your thoughts and feelings can flow more smoothly. I know you love your brother, but I sense that you are hiding something from him, and I need to know everything. You can't hold anything back. If you do, you're only hurting yourself and I want to help you. Do you understand?"

Sam nodded.

"Sam, you should know that your mother is here with us."
"What?" Sam exclaimed, both shocked and anxious.

"She has always been with the both of you. Like I just told Dean, she wasn't destroyed at your old house. Your heart speaks to her and she feels your pain."

"Mom can hear me?" Sam asked, emotion riddling his voice.
"Yes, Sam, she has never left you since the time you were a baby. Her love has never diminished."

"I never got to know her," Sam said, sadly.

"I know, but she lives inside of your soul always. She needs to know you understand that."

Sam nodded. "I do."

"She is proud of the man you have become, that you have given strength to your brother and have kept him together. She tells me that he draws on your ability to see the good in people whenever it wavers inside him. You keep him believing in it by seeing it in your eyes. Your mom needs you to know and believe that what happened to her wasn't your fault and she aches because your father forced both of you into the demonic world. It's important to her that you not blame yourself. It's holding you back, and that hurts her, knowing that it is keeping you from living your life."

"It's worse for Dean. He's been trapped there. At least I left, got to taste life outside of Dad's obsession."

"Sam, your mother is smiling because you're mistaking Dean's devotion for imprisonment. Dean has never been trapped in the life. She says that if any good can be said about what happened to the both of you, it was that he had found his place as your protector as well as the protector of others, and wouldn't trade it for anything normal. Hunting became his calling. She says he stayed so that you could go. He gave you your freedom and was happy to do it. It wasn't at the expense of his own like you think."

"It wasn't?"

"No, Sam. It wasn't. Dean doesn't always express it, but you need to know that he has never regretted the direction his life turned. He doesn't see it as a bad life."

"I never knew," Sam said, "I guess it was easier to think that he didn't want the life as much as me."

"Sam, we have to find a way to help you discover what you need to make you accept what's happened and release this blame you insist on inflicting on yourself. You have to know that your happiness and peace of mind is what your mother, and especially Dean, want for you. It's all they have ever wanted." She paused. "Now, let me try to help you. Please give me your hands."

Sam complied silently. Esperanza closed her eyes and absorbed the feelings that were coming through. There was pain, loss, appreciation, and love for his brother.

She looked at Sam. "I see you losing Jess, your girlfriend. I see your strained, but loving relationship with your father. Most of all, I see your deep love and commitment to your brother, Dean. You're troubled, you're worried that you're putting him in danger because of your gifts…" She paused again. "You worry you'll get him killed someday…you feel like you almost got him killed when you faced the demon that killed your mother…you felt helpless to stop it, to save him."

"Yes…" Sam said, barely a whisper on his lips.

"You're worried that you are like the other young man, Max, because he had your past, your gifts."

"Yes."

"Sam, I feel your energy and your good soul. You're much stronger than Max."

"I don't feel very strong."

"Max didn't have anyone to protect him when he was being abused as a child, and no one to love him enough to believe in him. You have always had Dean. He believes in you, and he has been there, protecting you all along, making sure that you became the man that you are. Max used his gift to exact vengeance on those who hurt him. He twisted it to suit his needs and was irrevocably lost to the darkness. You could've been lost too, when you lost Jess, but you knew you had Dean and you turned to him. Most importantly, he was there for you as he always has been, and as he always will be. That's the difference."

"I know, and that's what scares me," Sam responded quietly.

"You're worried that someday he won't be…because of you," Esperanza sensed, then her eyes widened a little. "You once told someone…Sarah? That you thought death followed you because of what happened to your mother and Jessica. You think you're cursed…you think Dean's next…Sam, you're holding back. I can feel it. If you want me to help you, you have to let go."

Esperanza closed her eyes and tried to read deeper, to try to find a way to sense what Sam was holding back. She then discovered it, and took in a breath.

"You've been having visions, haven't you?"

Sam looked away.

"The visions have been about Dean…you've seen him die in them, haven't you?"

Sam just nodded his head.

"You think he's going to die and you'll be helpless to stop it, don't you?" Esperanza asked sympathetically.

"Yes," Sam uttered softly.

oooo