Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, sadly.

Set: Pre-series

Main Characters: Sam and Dean

Ships: Dean kisses a girl. Sam has a mild crush on someone for a bit. But no ships, not really.

Ages: Sam's fourteen. Dean's eighteen.

Chapter Three: Smoke Out

"You helped me fight when I was giving in."

"get you the moon" by Kina

Sam didn't usually go to parties. Neither did Dean. While his older brother preferred the bar scene, the young Winchester would prefer staying home. And yet, here they both were.

At a high school bonfire.

Even though Dean had dropped out of school a couple months ago and Sam was in Middle School. Guess that didn't matter when Dean's current girlfriend -was that right term?- had invited him to one of her parties, tempting him with food and beer. Who was Dean to say no in that scenario? And then bring his kid-brother along because he couldn't leave Sam at home without the security that only Dean could provide.

"Deeean, come on… This sounds totally lame!" the little brother lamented as they drove to the location given. Dean's date -Wendy?- would be meeting them there, or at least that's what Sam had pieced together.

"You sound totally lame," came the tantalizing remark. "Just suck it up and deal, 'kay? Maybe even try to have some fun! Kiss someone, drink something, and dance somewhere. Those are the party rules, Shorty."

Sam rolled his eyes, staring at the window at the passing cars and street signs. "'m not short," he insisted with a tempered mumble. He was hoping, betting on the fact, that someday he'd bypass his brother in height. Pastor Jim said it was possible! "Do you even know your date's name?" Sam was hoping to at least stump Dean with this one, though he knew changing his brother's mind about the bonfire party was out of the question.

"Wanda," Dean elucidated quickly, before hesitating. "Fuck, that doesn't sound right. W… wa… we… Willow?" he blew out a breath as a sign of giving up. "Starts with a W. But she's hot so what else matters?" The young man finished, flashing an egotistical wink at his brother.

"Uh-huh. Sure," Sam noted, but couldn't help but snicker at how much of an asshole his brother was.

"You're only fourteen, you don't get things like romance." the older Winchester declared, appearing confident about what he was insinuating. Sam opened his mouth to fire a response back, but the words died in his throat because Dean was kind of right. He didn't have much experience with women. Dean barked a laugh when Sam faltered.

Luckily the rest of the ride hadn't lasted too long, and Sam wasn't forced to stay around his gloating brother for longer than ten minutes. As Dean pulled into a sort of makeshift parking lot somewhere in the woods, Sam spotted a raging fire, thankfully seeming contained, in the near distance.

Yay. People.

Heading over to the group, Dean sauntered over to this one taller girl; long legs, blonde hair, green eyes, gorgeous. Sam trailed after but wasted no time disappearing into the crowd when his brother began making out with the young woman. He didn't, however, miss the snippet of the conversation they exchanged after the kiss.

"Hey, Wanda,"

"Wendy."

"Duh, I'm just kidding around."

Stupid. Sam remarked, taking a seat closer to the fire on a large log. The heat of the roaring flame washed against his body, and the young man glanced away as a bout of smoke flickered his way. Fighting back a cough, Sam clamped his mouth shut. He didn't move though, not wanting to humiliate himself in front of the group of older kids by chickening out of his seat decision.

He'd just have to hope the smoke changed directions sooner than later.

Well, it had. For a couple of seconds. After about thirty minutes of taking the brute of the fumes, Sam had allowed himself to stumble away from the bonfire. His eyes watering and his throat screaming at him.

Where was Dean? He wanted to go home now.

Sam's eyes, still damp with inadvertent tears, searched the group of people. And came up empty. There were about twenty or thirty high-schoolers, and his brother had probably been washed away in the group. How had he put it? Kissing someone, drinking something, dancing somewhere? Yeah, that was probably what he was doing. Maybe even all at once.

Was that possible?

Snickering at the image conjuring in his mind, the younger Winchester was taken by surprise when somebody approached him. It was a girl, with round, rosy cheeks, a barrage of freckles, and dark brown eyes. Sam's heart skipped a beat at the young woman's sudden appearance. And she was looking at him. Of all people. The awkward, teary-eyed, stick who probably seemed like he belonged in some kid's locker.

"Hey," she greeted. Those warm brown eyes blinked up at him, cheerful and inviting. "I'm Belle. And you…?"

"Uh- er," Sam chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. Where was Dean? He could really use some pointers right about now. Tell her your name, Sammy. His brother's voice seemed to chide in the back of his head. "Sam. My name's Sam Ellis."

Belle giggled at his response, and panic flickered inside of him. Before he could worry too much about having said the wrong thing, she continued, "No offense, Sam, but you don't really look like you belong here. I mean- don't get me wrong, I'm hardly any better, but how old are you, even?" Then she appeared to look a bit bashful. "Sorry. I talk a lot when I'm nervous."

"Oh, that's fine…" Sam tried a laugh, and for the most part, succeeded. "I'm fourteen. But yeah, I'm not really the 'party-type' I guess. I came with my brother." The young man tried to fend off the brief spout of annoyance that she'd thought he'd seemed too young for a high school party, even if it was true.

"Fourteen's not bad!" came the comforting response. "I'm sixteen, and in my first year of high school." An uncomfortable silence took to the air. "Well… wanna, sit down or something?" Belle motioned to the logs.

No way. Sam wanted to answer. The smoke was killing him. "Sure, sounds fun."

And then he was back. And he could've sworn that the smoke shifted directions again, batting him in the face and infecting his lungs.

Still, he forced himself not to cough and instead talk to Belle, who was actually proving to be really charming.

Sam had found out the painful way -because of the smoke, not Belle- that talking to somebody by a fire was not the most pleasant thing in the world. Eventually, the young woman had commented on his watering eyes, and he'd as slyly as possible, brought up the fire, hoping she'd take the hint and they'd move.

But Belle hadn't taken the hint.

So he'd spent another half an hour embraced in smoke. "Sam?" Belle's voice interrupted his thoughts. Her wide eyes focused on him in slight concern. "You okay?"

"What?" a fog of confusion was arranging itself in a veil over Sam's mind. "I mean, yeah." Sam's voice was hoarse, kind of scratchy, as he wheezed out a response. The words suddenly seemed to decide they were too much and he broke off in a coughing spell.

Damn it.

Fortunately, he'd only had to cough a couple times since he'd moved to the fire again, but this was fit... different. This one lasted a touch longer, and was somehow… painful? Sam turned away, masking his face from the teenager he was talking to by covering it with his hand.

Something splattered against the back of his hand and startled, Sam took a shuddering breath and tried to see what it was in the light of the fire.

Crimson blood sparkled back at him.

He was coughing up blood. When the Hell was happening?

"Hey, uh… Sam? What's happening? Is it the smoke? Should we… move or something?"

"Bit…" Sam gasped for air. "...too late for that, I think." He flashed Belle an apologetic look as his hand fell to his chest, pressing against the area to try and relieve some of the pain he was feeling. The young woman's eyes widened with anxiety and she reached out to touch his face.

"Your lips… they're blue! Sam, what's wrong?"

Blue lips. Chest pain. Trouble breathing. Coughing up blood. Probably nothing good. He needed to find Dean. His older brother would know what to do. As Sam's mouth opened to try and get the words out, another cough crippled him into silence and he stumbled to the ground. Collective gasps rang out around them, along with a couple snickers coming from people who most likely thought he was drunk. "...Dean," he rasped to Belle before another cough wracked his body.

Belle jerked away from Sam, nodding quickly. "Dean?" She confirmed softly. Sam couldn't offer her a yes or even a shake of his head, but she must've noticed the desperate gleam of approval in his eyes because she stood on her toes to look at the group of people. "Is there a Dean Ellis over there? Sam's sick! Is there a Dean Ellis?"

Her outcry wafted over the group and eventually, nearly everyone was searching for Dean 'Ellis'.

Sam was on the ground by now, rocks and dirt wedging into his skin as he struggled to breathe. A glazed view had forced itself upon him, and everyone was basically a foggy outline of skin and clothes.

It felt like his lungs were betraying him. Or maybe like he was betraying them. Whoever was betraying who, Sam felt like he was coughing up organs, and by how useless they were being; he'd vouch for the lungs to be the first to go.

Finally, way too long but finally, a familiar voice rang in Sam's ears. "Sammy!" Sturdy arms wrapped around Sam, trying to pull him up onto his feet. Dean.

The young Winchester tried to help, but he could barely focus on what was happening, let alone tell his limbs what to do. "Dean," he rasped painfully.

"Yeah, it's me, little brother," came the calming whisper. "Save your voice, though. You need all the oxygen you can get. 'm pretty sure that smoke's in your lungs. Sneaky sonuvabitch… Can you walk?" Cold fingers ran along Sam's forehead and he gravitated toward the touch. "I'll take your silence as a no. Okay, just… don't cough on me, alright?" Then arms lifted him into the air and Sam hid his face in his jacket as he continued his merciless coughing.

Blood had freckled his lips, and when his head lolled back toward his brother's chest, Sam's eyes flickered as he fought for consciousness.

"Dammit, Sam," Dean growled, but the anger didn't seem to be directed at him. Sam still felt guilty. "Look at me. That's right, keep lookin' at me. You can't sleep yet, okay? Not... not yet- fuck! Sam, open your eyes, right now!"

Sam, desperately trying to do as he was told, was bested by his heavy eyelids. Another cough riddled his body, and his entire self shook with anguish. A car door was flung open. People's worried voices rang out. Dean cursed at him to stay awake. Sam couldn't find the will to decipher the meaning of any of it.

He just crumbled when placed on a seat, wheezing for air and incapable of breathing.

Dean had been… preoccupied when he heard people calling his name. At first, he had ignored them, because Wendy was a good kisser, but it was Sam's name that had snapped his mind into hyper-drive.

Now, speeding down the road, Dean didn't even care about leaving Wendy at the party. His little brother was more important.

Sammy was curled in a ball in the backseat, his arms wrapped around himself as he hacked blood onto his clothes. His eyes were polished over and opened in thin slits as he appeared to try and find out where he was. Oh, and if the coughing up fucking blood wasn't enough, his pale face could pass for Snow White and his lips and fingers could rival the ocean with their sickening blue shade.

"Sam! Stay awake, please Sammy. We're almost at a hospital, just stay awake!" Dean forced his gaze back on the road, his knuckles growing white at the pressure being applied to the steering wheel. He sped up the car, pushing it to go even faster. "Sam?" The coughing had grown placid. "Sammy?"

"SAM!"

When Sam was finally awake long enough to understand what was happening, he was in a white-walled, bleach smelling, hospital. Somebody was gripping his hand softly, and tubes were strung through his nose and mouth.

He shifted and the hand tightened its grip. The person, Sam guessed it was Dean, appeared to jolt into wakefulness with a start at Sam's succinct movement. "Sammy," He whispered softly, relief bleeding into the words.

Sam didn't respond. His lungs were burning, and tears welled in his eyes because he could not focus.

Soothing whispers filled in his head and the young man's body convulsed as he broke into another coughing fit. "Dean," he wheezed, as the tube inside his mouth had abruptly fallen out. "What- I…" Pain filled him to the brim and he shuddered in agony. He was just about to complain at his lost ability to breath when Dean fixed the tube so it was back in his mouth.

"Hey, hey, it's okay… You're okay, Sammy," Dean's voice sounded strained.

He didn't know that for sure, did he?

"You… you had us all pretty troubled there, didja know that? And I'm gonna kick your ass when you're up for worrying me like that." his brother had tried a teasing tone, but it fell short. Emotion swamped his voice because both of them knew Sam wouldn't be able to respond with speech. "I called Dad… he… he's on his way.

"Oh, also, the doctors had the audacity to say there were odds you might not make it," Dean forced a chuckle at that. "Guess they don't know you're the toughest person I know."

Wet eyelashes gave way to streaming tears as Sam's body shook with distress. Dean seemed to fall apart at that, and his hand gripped the young Winchester's so hard that both of their hands were shaking. Sam let out a low moan of pain and the older brother pulled away in concern. A flurry of apologies spilled out of his mouth before eventually being silenced by the fact that Sam wasn't responding.

The teenager's body quivered slightly before his hand reached out for Dean. It felt empty, cold, without his brother holding it. Dean, after a moment's vacillation, took it.

"Can you do one thing for me, Sammy? Just one thing?"

There wasn't any falter as Sam nodded in determination. He'd do anything for his older brother.

"Just keep fighting, okay? Don't let those doctors and their hoity-toity butts be right. Can you do that, for me?"

It was a horrible question to ask, Dean knew that. But Sam just jerked his chin upward and then downward in a weak nod. Then, using practically all his strength, flashed the older Winchester a grin. Sam didn't care that it rivaled being impossible. He'd complete it.

He'd fight. For Dean.

The youngest Winchester was able to check out of the hospital within two days.

Sam, after having been prescribed an inhaler in case his lungs decided to up and stop working again, was now sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, leg bouncing up and down from boredom. As his brother finally started the car, Sam took a steady breath and peered out the window.

"Hey, Dean?" he inquired quietly. Dean winced at the hoarseness of the question but didn't comment on it.

"What is it, Sammy-boy?" The car pulled away from the hospital, taking to the road and speeding away from the God-awful building they'd just left and toward the motel John was waiting at.

There was a pause when Sam's turn to respond came. "I think I might've died, Dean. For a couple seconds. Did the doctors tell you that?"

All the air seemed to be knocked out of the older brother, and he inhaled sharply. Dean's gaze seemed to wrack over Sam as if checking to make sure he was really there. His wide green eyes looked so startled, so concerned, that Sam had to look away again. "You… what? When?"

"Yeah," Sam licked his lips, suddenly questioning having told Dean at all. "'m not quite sure… to be honest. It was after you told me to fight. Well, for a bit, like- a couple of seconds, the mouth-piece slipped out and I-" the young man shifted uncomfortably. "I couldn't breathe."

Guilt coursed through Dean in every possible way, stiffening his limbs, flooding his eyes, everything just burned with I-failed-didn't-I? He looked back to the road, as if unable to even face Sam now.

"I think… I think I saw my reaper. She was outside my room. She beckoned me to her, Dean. But… I didn't follow her. You… well, you told me to fight. And then… I just… breathed. And then I was awake. And the lady was gone. And you were there. Fixing my breathing tube." Gears seemed to shift in Sam's gaze before they widened in shock. "So I think you saved me."

Dean laughed dryly because he could recall that night too. "I remember," he susurrated softly. He hadn't known Sam had almost died though! "I was asleep. Then my phone went flying off the counter like a fucking ghost or something had thrown it, but then I saw your breathing tube thing was out and… well, yeah. You know what happened after that."

Silence hung in the air. Sam shifted toward his brother, resting his head on the young man's shoulder. "Thank you, De," he whispered tiredly.

"Do something like that again and I'll beat your short ass to the moon, got it?"

"Mhm…" and then Sam drifted off to sleep, soothed by the warmth that was radiating from Dean.

Neither knew how it had happened. Freak of nature? Luck? The supernatural? Wind? But they did know Sam had won that fight against the smoke, against death. And Sam knew it was because of Dean. Dean, who'd helped him fight.

So maybe he was a stupid jerk.

But he was also Sam's hero.

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the reviews, favorites and follows! They mean so so SO much to be and every time I get an announcement from you guys I get so happy! Next chapter should be out soon! In case you were wondering, Sam had smoke inhalation from being way too close to smoke for way too long. Ignore any medical improbabilities because there might be some lol