Disclaimer: refer to chapter one.

NOTE TO READERS: My apologies if this story seems to be moving slowly. I've had some comments that equate down to 'hurry up and move it along,' basically. But, in my defense I think the current frame of time in this story of this story may be a little nebulous, so I'll reiterate. The Winchesters had only been in the hospital the tune of 30 hours before Sam collapsed, so Sam has actually only been in his coma more like 2 days, not weeks. I'm moving it along as quickly as I can, so I've decided to start advancing in mini to medium chunks of time.

I appreciate every comment and review. I understand it takes time to read a fic and leave a review, so I am thankful. Please, continue to leave a review as you finish a chapter.

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Chapter Six

The Other Side of Reason

By Dawn Nyberg

"Silence is breakin' like a rain pourin' down I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how. The truth is a dark cloud that won't go away; it lives in the shadow of what we don't say. Tonight is a long one, no candles for the dark, wind blows down the hallway, no shelter for a heart. If I had wings I'd fly you away, safe at a distance from this lonely place…" Lyrics excerpt by Daniel Lavoie, I Wish It Would Rain

Almost Three Months Later

Dean walked through the halls of the hospital toward the neurology unit. He carried a cup of coffee. He hadn't wanted to leave Sammy, always afraid that he'd have a moment of true awareness and he wouldn't be there, but he needed a drink and to stretch his legs. His little brother had surprised the ICU doctors when he began to emerge from the deeper coma after two weeks. The ICP monitor was removed and Sam was taken off the ventilator. Dean remembered how excited he was when he turned around one day from reading a car magazine while his father was in yet another conference with Sam's doctors to see Sam's eyes open. Dean and his father had both been released from the hospital the week Sam opened his eyes. Sam's eyes weren't focused on any one thing and when Dean had spoken to him it was as if Sam didn't see or hear him. But, somehow Dean saw past the blankness and was just happy to see his little brother's eyes open once again.

The doctors had said Sam was still in a form of a coma, but that the deeper coma was lessening. The doctors had said Sam was having no meaningful interaction with his environment, but was now exhibiting sleep and wake cycles. They had scribbled in his chart coma vigil under his status area. Dean had taken to reading Sam's chart they left at the bedside because he had grown tired of the doctor conferences and their lack of faith in Sam to come through this, although the chart wasn't anymore comforting, at least he didn't have to listen to them talk. But, John had never stopped going to the conferences, and was speaking to the doctors frequently. He had indeed requested second and third opinions concerning his youngest child's condition. Dean thought back to the day the evaluations were over and John had gone to talk to the two doctors, Dean refused to leave Sam's side. "Anything I want to hear?" Dean asked as his father had entered the room. John shook his head.

"What do they know, right?" Dean had been comforted by the fact his father seemed to be a believer like he was that Sam would be okay, eventually. That Sammy was still in there somewhere groping around in the dark trying to find his way home.

The doctors had transferred Sam from the ICU at the end of three weeks, and put him in a room in the neurology unit. He shared a room with another patient, but Dean tried to ignore that bed as much as possible. The other bed was across the room in the corner. The young man had been in a motorcycle accident and hadn't been wearing a helmet. He had heard the story, he was only eighteen, and the motorcycle was a graduation present from his father, but the kid had taken it out without his helmet. And, now the family was making preparations to have him cared for outside the hospital, and Dean knew the kid would have no life. He could look at the kid and see there was no spirit left inside to ever animate that shell of a body again. Dean vowed that would never be Sam's fate.

John had found an extended stay suites hotel in the city not more than five minutes from the hospital, and had rented a room there for the two of them after their release. Dean had been adamant that someone was always with Sam, but he had to admit the logic of having a home base beyond the hospital. The place had two rooms, one with the beds and bathroom. The other room had a couch, a recliner, desk, TV and small kitchenette. There was also a small stackable washer and dryer in a closet. Dean preferred taking the day shift with Sam since he was able to see him with his eyes open more times than not. John would sit in the early evening with Sam while Dean went to the hotel. But, sometimes John had urged Dean to sleep at the hotel and not the hospital, however, more times than not is oldest child slept in a sleeping chair beside his brother, ever vigilant.

John had taken a job at a local garage where the owner had agreed to pay him under the table for his work. He was sympathetic to John's situation with a son in the hospital and not being local. John only worked at the shop four days a week, but somehow the he had figured out a way to make it all work. He was always there when the doctors did their rounds and would conference with them once a week about Sam and he would sit and talk to his son.

At the beginning of Sam's second month while Dean sat reading to him from a book he had found in his little brother's things. Sam would stare off into nothing, but Dean had just kept reading. A sound of someone walking in had drawn his attention. And, he remembered the day even now. It was a Monday afternoon, the beginning of March, the 2nd, and the sun was coming in through the window. It was the day April Ian walked into his life. A five-foot five petite little pistol of a woman that took Dean's breath away. She was twenty-six, big blue eyes, and shoulder length strawberry blonde hair. When she introduced herself, Dean remembered how he had been staring at her mouth. Her lips formed this perfect heart-shaped pout between her words. He would have sworn the universe was gravitating toward that perfect mouth.

"I'm April. I'll be Sam's PT."

"Uh, Dean," he stammered with his name extending a hand to meet her out reached one.

"PT? She smiled, and his world exploded.

"Sorry, short for physical therapist."

"Really?" the look of obvious confusion filled his face. "But…"

"Well, until he has more purposeful movements," April began. "I'm going to be working his legs, and arm muscles. And, keep his joints moving. I don't want him to start drawing in his limbs." She glanced over at the other bed, and Dean had followed her gaze. His eyes fell on the bed he avoided. The young man's arms were drawn up tightly across his chest with his hands in tight inward turned fists across his stomach. April saw the look of distress on Dean's face. "Hey, Sam isn't in his condition, okay?" she assured. "And, I'm here to make sure his muscles keep getting worked." Dean nodded. "Hey, I mean it, okay? Sam is all ready better off than Kyle is," she comforted. Dean smiled, and did find comfort in her words.

"The doctors, have they spoken to you about his progress?"

"Progress?" Dean looked at her with curious eyes. "Ah, I don't really listen to them anymore. I leave that to my dad. I got tired of hearing that they think Sam has no chance. I don't think they've ever used the word progress," his voice bitter. "They just scribble with their little damn pens in his chart under status."

"Well, I've evaluated him and his chart, and I think there is a lot that can be done to help Sam in his recovery." Relief had flooded through Dean that day. "And, I've seen my share of cases that have had some good results. And, one or two have been nothing short of miracles. But you have to be proactive, you know?" Dean nodded. He'd do anything for Sammy. It was hard to believe that March was almost over now.

Dean came out of his memories, as his father walked in. He glanced at his watch and knew that April would be here in thirty minutes for Sam's PT session. "Hey, Dad?"

"Hi, how ya doin'?"

"Okay," Dean stood and approached Sam's bed; it was time to turn him. Dean remembered that after watching Sue turn Sam while in the ICU every hour or two that when he had been released he wanted to learn what to do. He wanted to do as much for his brother as he could, and if that meant turning him, so he wouldn't get bed sores because he couldn't turn himself he would.

"Need help?" John took a step forward.

"No I got it." John watched his firstborn pull back the sheets on Sam's bed. "Hey, Sammy, buddy. I gotta turn you okay," Dean said gently. Sam was on his side facing the door of his room. John hated the empty stare in Sam's eyes that blinked sluggishly when reflex demanded. He watched Dean pull the pillow out from between Sam's long legs, and gently roll his brother onto his back. "There you go Sammy," his voice gentle. "How about you try a different view for a while from your back? Hey, April will be here soon for your PT. Aren't you a lucky dog," he quipped. "She's smokin' hot." He sat the pillow aside. John watched Dean gently arrange Sam's arms and legs into a comfortable position. And, suddenly he felt like an intruder. Dean took a hold of Sam's head and turned it slightly toward the window. "See the blue sky today, Sammy?" John felt a part of his soul rip as he watched his son care for his other child.

"Dean?" John began tentatively.

"Yeah?" Dean could tell there was something important his father wanted to discuss.

"I spoke with the doctors this morning."

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, they say Sammy is ready to be released from hospital care. He's been here almost three months now. Well, at the end of the week it'll be three months. They spoke to me about two facilities outside the city that can care for Sammy. They're both state run facilities that can accommodate a patient with no insurance. We can't keep up with the credit cards Dean. I've been able to cover so far with some other cards, but…"

"Care for? You mean rehab facilities, right?" And, that's when Dean saw a look pass over his father's face that he couldn't let himself believe he was seeing, but his father's next words only confirmed his fears, John now believed the doctors prognosis for Sam.

"No, Dean." John's voice was soft. "Long-term care facilities."

"Long-term care," Dean hissed. He cast his eyes toward Sam staring blankly toward the window. His head in the same position Dean had put it. "I'll be back in a minute, okay Sammy? I just gotta talk to Dad in the hall." His voice was upbeat as he spoke to his little brother. "Outside," he said to his father. The timbre of his voice indicating he meant business. Dean walked with purpose and stopped a few feet away from Sam's room in a quiet corner cut off from hall traffic. "What the hell do you mean long-term care, Dad?"

"Dean, son…"

"Don't," Dean barked. "You believe these quacks don't you?"

"Dean, I have seen the scans. I have seen his progress. We can't care for him Dean. A state facility can."

"Care for," Dean hissed. "They'll treat him like a plant, Dad. They'll feed and water him, and that's it. He needs a rehab facility. He needs stimulus."

"Dean, Sam isn't going to get better. Rehab won't do anything for him. We can visit him whenever we want," John's face looked stricken.

"Fuck you then," Dean spat. "You're done," he barked. "You stay away from him."

"What? He's my child Dean," John warned. "I'm his father, and I'm making the decisions for his care now."

"The hell you are," Dean walked up to his father and stood mere inches from his face.

"I've all ready started the paperwork for his transfer at the end of the week." John should have seen it coming, but he didn't. He felt the impact of Dean's fist against his jaw and he stumbled back, the punch was vicious. He tasted the familiar copper taste of blood in his mouth. Dean was on him in an instant, his hands grabbing his father's flannel shirt roughly. He pinned his father against the wall.

"I'm not going to let you send Sammy to a hell hole to rot," he barked. "You just don't want to deal with his recovery. I'll be damned if I let you throw him away!" John attempted to jerk away from his son, but Dean simply increased his hold, pulled back on his father's shirt quickly and slammed the man back into place. John saw into Dean's eyes and hesitated. He saw a feral rage in them, but he also saw the eyes of the deadly hunter he had raised. He stilled under his son's grasp.

"Sammy's gone, Dean." John spoke evenly. "We can't care for him. And, I'm not going to let you waste your life taking care of your brother." He immediately knew the word waste had come out sounding wrong. He felt Dean shift suddenly and then his son's forearm pushed against his throat effectively shutting off his air. Now, he fought back. He countered under his son's grip, and shoved Dean into the wall away from him.

"Taking care of Sammy isn't a waste of my life!" Dean countered with ferocity.

"That's not what I meant, son. He isn't going to get better Dean. The doctor's say he's reached a plateau in his status. They said they don't expect him to ever interact with his world or people. He'll never really know us again, Dean." John watched his son stare at him. His eyes wide and he saw the pain his words were causing him. Dean had always been a realist, but when Sam had been hurt he saw another Dean emerge, an optimist, a believer in possibilities. And, now he was forcing his son into a stark blinding light he'd been refusing to look into. "We can't fix him Dean. But, we can see that he's cared for."

"We can't fix him?" Dean's voce was incredulous. "He's not a broken kitchen appliance," Dean hissed. "I know he needs a lot of care, Dad. I'm not fooling myself. But, I'm not going to stand by and let you pack him off to be housed in some institute to lay in a bed the rest of his life. And, don't fool yourself, with the words long-term care; you want to send Sammy to an institution."

"Sam wouldn't want you to give up your life to sit by him. You can visit."

"How are these words even coming out of your mouth?" Dean barked. "You're his father, and you've given up on him. You're throwing him out like garbage."

"Dean, I'm not," John countered. "I checked the places out. And, the Meadowbrook Care Center will be able to provide for Sammy. And, the state can make accommodations for not having insurance. I've seen the place. Sam will be okay there. Stop kidding yourself about his potential Dean. We've lost him."

"You're completely fucked in the head, you know that right?" Dean replied dead panned. "Meadowbrook? Who's kidding themselves now? You act like you're sending him off to Club Med or something." Dean glared at his father. "Do they even provide therapy? Physical, speech, occupational? April said it's important Sam have that stuff at minimum, but there's a lot more. I mean, will they work with him, keep his muscles moving? What about hydrotherapy, he likes it," he paused. "I know he does. He doesn't have to speak for me to understand that. It helps make him more comfortable and calms his muscle spasms … they go away after it."

"Dean," John hated seeing his son like this, but he had to make him accept the way things were. "April, is very good at what she does, but she isn't one of Sam's doctors. It's her job to make family's feel good. And, to be positive about Sam's therapy. It's her job."

"That's bullshit! She's been straight with me, and she says Sam has a chance at something. I don't know what that something will turn out to be, but I want to give him that chance. I can't believe you're not willing too."

"Dean, I haven't given up on your brother. I'm just accepting his limitations now, and he has come back as far as he's going to. Meadowbrook will take care of his needs."

"He's not going there," Dean's tone turned deadly.

"It's not your decision to make Dean. What? You have the money to spend on a rehab facility? They won't take him anyway, Dean. The doctors have declared him profoundly brain damaged with persistent unawareness and there isn't a rehab that will take him. And, I can't blame them. He isn't going to get better Dean. There isn't a curve of improvement here, and the sooner you accept that Sammy is gone the better off you'll be."

"Well, then I guess all of you dumb asses in this place should take a better look at Sammy's chart. I saw the initial paperwork he filled out in the ER before he signed the AMA papers. He had to designate a person in charge of his medical care should he become incapacitated in the event of a complication. It might have been just routine paperwork, but it still sticks," Dean shouted. "He put my name down Dad. I'll find a rehab to take him. Sam's my responsibility. And, you can take your Meadowbrook plans and shove them up your ass!" He yelled, and began to walk away. John followed, and spotted one of Sam's doctors.

"Doctor," John spoke with impatience.

"Mr. Winchester? Is there a problem?" Dean stood glaring at both men, as he felt a smug grin of satisfaction creeping across his mouth. "I have the paperwork almost complete for the transfer to Meadowbrook on Friday."

"My son said his names on my son's paperwork for all of his medial decisions, is that true?"

"Uh, I don't know. I just assumed you're his father, and never even looked." He pulled up Sam's file in the computer, and a scan of the original forms he had signed. "Well, it say's here: Name of party given permission to make medical and care decisions in the event of complications or incapacitation: Dean Winchester. Relation to patient: Brother." And, you clearly saw Sam's signature sighed and dated at the bottom of the form.

Sam had used Dean's real last name for the paperwork, and Dean doubted his brother was really even thinking straight when he had filled out those papers, but he seriously doubted some small hospital would ever know that Dean Winchester died in St. Louis. It wasn't like he was the only Dean Winchester in the world.

"So, what does that mean?" John barked. "Is he right? He can control my son's care?

"Yes," the doctor said bluntly.

"I want to petition for a change," John raised his voice. "I'm his father."

"Well, there is no need to make a change. This shouldn't be a problem. I can just transfer the Meadowbrook paperwork to your son's name and get his signature for the paperwork."

"Like Hell Kevorkian," Dean grumbled. "My brother isn't be shipped off to some hole in the wall place to be forgotten. He's going to a rehab facility."

"Ah, I just assumed you were both at a consensus for Sam's care."

"Not even close," Dean hissed as his eyes shifted between the doctor and his father.

"Well, I can't tell you where to send your brother, but I can tell you his chart isn't going to change, and based on his status confirmed by this hospital he will not be accepted into rehab facility. He won't meet their acceptance criteria. You're brother has no chance of meaningful recovery." Dean glanced at his watch and saw he'd been away from Sam for almost forty minutes.

"I've wasted enough of my time and my brother's with you quacks. I'm going to see my brother."

"Sir," the doctor called out. "We'll need a decision concerning his care by the end of the week. We are ready to release him. He no longer requires the care of a hospital."

"Yeah-yeah," Dean stormed off.

"Can I contest the paperwork?" John asked.

"You could try court, but he was lucid and in grasp of his own actions when he filled out the forms." John looked defeated. He felt like Dean was going to spend the rest of his life taking are of his brother who wouldn't even know he was there. John nodded. "Mr. Winchester, I know this isn't what you want to hear from me now, but the staff will have to consult your son from now on and any care while Sam is with us."

"I know." He walked off needing some air.

Dean approached Sam's room and heard April's sweet voice. "So, Sam? Where is that brother of yours? Hmm? He's usually on guard duty. Hey, look at your flexibility today, good for you," her voice bubbly as she grasped his right leg under his knee and at his ankle stretching it out and bending it back flexing his knee.

"Hi April," Dean spoke with a broad smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You okay?" She had been studying his face and mannerisms for a month now while treating Sam.

"They want to ship Sam off?"

"Yeah, but that's good news," she replied. "He'll be out of the hospital."

"Yeah, well, my Dad and those quacks were making plans to send him to some place called Meadowbrook."

"Meadowbrook! No, no, Sam can't go there," her voice lost its bubbly quality and was deadly serious.

"I know. I told them he wasn't being shipped off to an institution. I don't care if they won't make us pay. But, these damn doctors put crap in his file, and said no rehab will take Sammy. I'm on his paperwork to make his decisions, and I'm not sticking him in some hell hole that will feed, water, and turn him, ya know?"

"Dean," April could see the stress lines pulling at Dean's face. She hated seeing that look. She had grown quite attached to that face, and hated seeing it upset. She saw Sam more times during a week than other PT patients for more reasons than patient care, but there was something about Samuel Winchester and that brother of his that she felt compelled to be around. And, Dean made her stomach flip flop when he was around. "When I finish with Sam's therapy, I'm going to look into something's for you and Sam, okay?"

"You don't have to," Dean answered.

"I know I don't, but I may have an idea, okay?"

"Thanks April," he reached out and gave her elbow a soft squeeze, and she thought her skin would ignite under his touch. She simply smiled.

Three Hours Later

John walked back into Sam's room and met Dean's hard stare. "I'm not going to contest the papers," he said simply as he sat down. "It'd be pointless to go through court to do this. Dean, he's my son," he stated simply. "I want you to sign over his care to me."

"No way," Dean answered flatly keeping his voice low. Sam had closed his eyes an hour ago, and was sleeping.

"I'm not asking you Dean. I'm ordering you."

"I said no." Dean shifted in his seat. "You don't get to call the shots anymore Dad. This is my life, and if it means visiting Sammy everyday the rest of my life, I will. He's getting into a rehab. Some place will take him."

"No they won't."

"I know you think I'm off in La-La Land or something, but I'm not. I know Sam could stay like this forever, I know that, okay? But, I don't believe that he will. I know he can be helped. I told you before that Sam has a chance at something, and I'm giving him that chance."

"What about your life Dean? You can honestly say you're ready for this routine to be the rest of your life?"

"I know I can't stay with him 24/7, I know I'll have to get a place and work. But, yeah, I'm willing to make a life wherever I have to if that means I know Sam is getting the best chance he can get. It's not my problem you're not willing to do the same. And, just because you're not doesn't make me wrong."

"What about the hunt? The people you could save? The demon?"

"Screw it all, Dad. It doesn't matter. Sam matters."

"I can't support this Dean. You're throwing your life away."

"I'm not asking for your support Dad. I couldn't give a rat's ass what you think," he hissed quietly. "And, if I am throwing my life away, and I don't feel I am, but if I am, guess what? It's my life!"

"I can't talk to you when you're acting like this?" John stood up to leave, but stopped short. He walked over to Sam's bedside and kissed his son on the forehead gently as he ran his hand through Sam's long bangs. "Sleep well Sammy." He stood back from Sam and leveled a look on Dean. "I'll try talking to you when your head is clearer."

"My head is clear, Dad. Crystal clear." He watched John Winchester turn on his heel and leave the room.

Twenty minutes after his father had left Dean heard footsteps enter. "What you came back for more," his voice harsh. He looked up and saw April entering. "Sorry, I thought you were my Dad."

"It's okay. No harm, no foul," she attempted to add some levity to the obviously tense air in the room. "Sorry, it took me so long to get back to you, but I had to leave the hospital for a meeting about Sam."

"About Sam?"

"Remember I said I might have an idea?"

"Yeah," Dean was taken off guard slightly still. "Did your idea pan out? I mean, if it didn't, I really appreciate…" She put her hand up and smiled.

"I took my file on Sam to Ivy Ridge," when she saw that Dean hadn't heard the name before. "I'm not surprised it was on the list of places Sam could go to. It's a rehab center about 15 miles outside the city. It's one of the best in the country actually, for brain and spinal trauma cases. I'll be honest my aunt is the Director of the center. She's a neurologist that specializes in traumatic brain injury, but before she was a doctor she was a physical therapist like me, and she has more open views on neurological recovery. I mean don't get me wrong, she knows when there is no hope for recovery, and she doesn't pull punches or give false hope." April paused a second and could see Dean was listening intently to her every word.

"Dean, my aunt has seen his records, and copies of his scans. And, my care notes for his therapy. She believes that the center could help Sam progress further than his current state. And, I told her about the financial burden and lack of health insurance. I hope you don't mind." Dean shook his head assuring her understood why she had to place all cards on the table. "Anyway, she wants to help Sam, and because the institute is one of the best there is funding available for patients with extreme financial need."

"What are you saying?" Dean couldn't believe what he thought he was hearing. "Sam was accepted… even with his diagnosis? And, the center is taking him on without payment?"

"Yes and yes, remember I told you my aunt sees potential where most doctors wouldn't. And, the sad thing is, if Sam were to get shipped off to a place like Meadowbrook, unfortunately he would probably meet the doctors expectations because he would be getting no therapy at all, and would regress. Sam has potential Dean, and I want to see him get the chance." Before April knew what was happening Dean had grabbed her and pulled her against his chest hugging her.

"I can't thank you enough. April…" She returned the heart felt hug gladly.

"It's okay, Dean." She assured. "My aunt is making arrangements for Sam's arrival on Friday. And, I can tell you all about the center when you want to hear it. I do PT there also on the weekends for a couple hours, but also in speech, as opposed to here at the hospital I only do PT."

"So, you'll still be working with Sam?"

"In some capacity, I will. He'll have his own personal PT assigned to him at the center. And, he'll have day, evening, and night caregivers assigned to him. It will be the same caregivers on any given shift. My aunt likes to instill a continuity of care. They have a massive staff there, so that no one gets burned out. Each caregiver is assigned three patients per shift. And, because not all patients require the same level of care it always seems to work out. I arranged for a tour, if you'd like to see it before Friday."

"Yeah, when?"

"We could today," she suggested. "I know you hate leaving him, but maybe it'll be good for you, you know? After all, Ivy Ridge is a residential center, and although, they won't kick you out," she smiled. "They encourage family to allow the patients some space, so to speak."

"Yeah, I know you're right. All right," he looked at his watch. "Let me talk to Karen his nurse for the evening shift. I want to make sure she has my cell number should they have to reach me."

"Okay. I'll stay with Sam. We can take my car," she suggested.

"Thanks for everything April." She smiled and Dean's felt warmth settle into his chest. It was warmth that stemmed not only from her, but that he saw possibility for Sammy. He walked out of the room.

"Well, Sam," April spoke happily. "We're going to get you out of this hospital Friday, okay?" She patted his leg. He remained asleep. "I think you'll really like the center. And, I haven't seen that brother of yours look that happy since I met him. Boy, I wish I could get the goods from you on him. I bet he's a real lady killer, huh? He did me in the first moment we met," she giggled quietly, and gave Sam a soft squeeze on his right foot.

Dean walked back in, "I told her I was going out for and that I'd be back later. So, if they need me for anything she'll call. Cell reception is okay out there isn't it?"

"Yep, no problems," April assured.

Dean walked over to Sam before leaving and gently pushed back his unruly bangs. "Hey kiddo, I'm going to go check out your new digs, okay? I'll be back tonight, I promise. It's gonna be okay, Sammy," Dean spoke gently. "Okay, let's go."

Dean walked with April to the employee parking lot where her car was parked. He briefly thought of his current relationship status with is dad, and had to admit it was a tumultuous storm letting loose. Hurricane Winchester was blowing in, and Dean knew it. But, he decided wasn't going to think about his father right now. No, right now he was blocking John Winchester out of his mind. He was sure they'd talk again, but there wasn't much more to say. If John couldn't believe that Sammy had potential, no matter what that may mean when all was said and done, then Dean had no use for him, father or not. And, for the first time in almost three months he finally felt some of the weight in his chest lift, he had always believed in Sam, but now he had hope, real hope.

To Be Continued

Well, how was that? I tried to speed it up a little for you. I had a ton of reviews for chapter 5, and they were all appreciated. So, let me know what you thought of chapter six. You know the routine by now: like it, hate it, bored stiff, etc., let me know.

READ and REVIEW! Thank you in advance.