Like many old cabins, the door creaked ever so slightly as it was opened. Dean paused for a moment, hand still on the handle while the other re-curled against his gun. Sam kept his own weapon up, half waiting for one of the men to come through the door at that very second. When that didn't happen, Dean pushed it open enough for Sam to slip through.

The room they entered was the kitchen, and Sam quickly moved to the right side before Dean slipped in the left. There were faint voices from the room over where the men were, and Sam jerked his head in that direction. Of course, Dean had heard too, and was cautiously peeking around the edge of the wall. Sam watched his brother and remained motionless, making sure no one else came around the back.

Dean took another step forward, his heavy boots making the old wood floor creak much like the door.

But that was all it took. A tiny, minuscule little sound of pressure being applied and the conversation in the other room stopped. There was a second of silence before bullets started raining in from the sitting room.

There was a sharp "Sam!" uttered as Dean dropped to the floor and his brother tried to follow suit. Unfortunately, one of the stray bullets caught him in the side of his chest and spun him around.

One of his hands immediately went from his gun to the wound, which wasn't exactly bad, but was searing and probably hit a rib as it scraped by. Still, Sam tried to duck as the bullets continued, only ceasing to reload.

Dean cast him a hurried glance before he was off, gun at the ready, into the other room. Sam didn't hear much beyond a struggle and a few pained grunts before he had gotten up too, left hand still at his side.

As he entered the room, the free werewolf that Dean was not trying to manhandle on the ground came at him from the side and knocked him down, which didn't help his wound any. The wind was knocked out of his already pained lungs as Sam hit the ground, the other man on top of him.

The two began grappling for Sam's gun, the man trying to pin down Sam's arm and pry it from his grasp as Sam fought back. He kept twisting, only sending more flares of pain to the injury. Somehow, he hooked his leg around the man's knee and twisted again, managing to roll them over so that Sam was on top.

The only problem was that the gun was between their chests, safety off, and had two grown men scrambling for control. Sam grunted and winced as the werewolf's superior strength began to win out. All it took was another wrong spike of pain and something falling over from Dean's own scuffle to make Sam lose control.

The first gunshot he heard was that of Dean's gun finding its place in the first werewolf, and the thud that followed was the body hitting the ground. The second gunshot he heard made his ears ring, but it was also aimed at him.

The round went into his chest with such force that Sam jolted back, away from the assailant. The only thing he registered more than the white hot agony was the feeling of breathlessness that took over…and the fact that Dean was shouting his name.

November 12, 5:23pm

The nightmare, no, memory, had Sam waking up rather abruptly. He was careful to not jolt awake, but his racing heart wasn't helping his still healing injury. He couldn't shake the memory…not the wood creaking beneath his feet or the pain in his chest or how worried Dean had been…

"Sam?" came Cas' quiet question into his well-being.

"Yeah, sorry, bad dream," Sam assured and shook his head a bit before he looked over towards the angel, who was sitting at the small motel table with a laptop out. "I'm good," he added, seeing the worried glance that had crossed Cas' face. "What time is it?"

Cas glanced at the clock on the top of the computer screen. "Currently it is 5:23, now :24pm, you slept on and off for about six hours," he informed, to which Sam nodded again.

"Any news?" He wasn't sure what kind of news he was referring to…any would be helpful, and good would be preferable.

Cas shook his head. "Pertaining to Dean directly, no, they haven't released specific information regarding the people involved. Though," he took another look at the screen, "it is estimated that about a hundred and fifty people have been rescued so far, they're still searching for survivors."

Dean could very easily be a part of that hundred and fifty, there was no reason why he shouldn't be…but just as easily he could still be in the water. Or he could be in a boat unaccounted for at the hospitals yet. There were so many options and what ifs and unanswered questions.

Sam rubbed his hand down his face and nodded again.

"I did bring some food in case you were hungry. And you should take your medicine with it too, so I would advise doing so before we leave again," Cas mentioned and motioned towards the duffel bag that was on the free, still untouched bed. It was the bed closest to the door, and having it empty was just another sign of how screwed up their current situation was.

"Thanks," Sam half smiled. Getting out of bed was a literal pain, as the painkillers had faded in the hours since he had last taken them. His chest throbbed dully as he got up and then sat down on the other bed and began rummaging through it.

"How long should it take us to get to New York? Half a day?" he asked, his calculations probably off as he dug out a bottle of pills and a bag of pretzels.

Cas typed a few more things into the computer and read for a moment before he nodded. "Driving through the night, and with stops, we should reach New York by morning, though we will also have to find out which hospital survivors were taken to and make our way there."

Okay, tomorrow morning. They'd find Dean by tomorrow morning, and probably per his disgruntled, hurried request to get out of the hospital, be out by mid-afternoon. Everything would be fine, it always was, and if not, they'd make it fine. Fifteen hours, tops. Dean could last fifteen more hours by himself…right?

"And you're fine driving like that?" Sam checked, just to be sure, because it was hard to tell with the angel sometimes.

Cas nodded in assurance. "I am confident that we can get there in the set amount of time. I am doubtful that I would tire enough to not be able to drive that far," he explained, with a bit of a smile himself. Sam figured Cas wanted to find Dean as much as he did.

"Alright then," Sam nodded back. "Say we hit the road in…twenty?"

Cas shrugged and went back to looking at the computer. "Whatever is best for you, Sam."

Sam sighed a little and decided to focus on his pretzels. He went about making another mental list, a tally of sorts, of how many more things they had to do before they got to Dean. It kept him thinking about the situation, but not about the situation, if it made sense. It did to him, anyways.

He opened up the bag and popped a pretzel into his mouth. Food, meds, gather things to put into the car, drive, a few pit stops, research, hospital, Dean. He went over the list a few more times. He could fit the items onto two hands, which was good. It wouldn't be that long until they got him back, and only a few small things had to be checked off before they could do so.

They hit the road again twenty-three minutes later and the next few hours passed by in much of the same style as they had before. There was no real noise, save for a few attempts at some decent radio music and more than a few accompanying short conversations.

At one point, Cas asked about the lyrics to the song, which made Sam smile, and he could't figure out if the angel was doing it on purpose to make him smile or if he was genuinely confused. Either way, it was an…interesting experience.

Around eight, Sam sat up in his seat a bit straighter as he came across a new piece of information. "Found where they're taking the majority of the survivors," he relayed to Cas, who cast him a quick glance from the road. "Looks like it's one just a few miles from Jersey City, across one of the bridges onto Long Island," Sam said and clicked a few more things. "Long Island General."

"We have a set destination now, that is good," Cas added, seemingly a bit more at ease now that they knew exactly where they would be going.

Sam hummed a bit in agreement as he kept reading. "Latest reports say one hundred seventy eight survivors were brought to the hospital…" he trailed off before he read the next numbers. "Twenty three confirmed dead. The rest are either on boats on their way back or still being searched for."

Silence began to permeate the car once again, their worries remained unspoken.

"He's there, Sam," eventually cut through the tension, "he has to be. If Dean Winchester is something other than a survivor, he's one of the most stubborn men I've ever met." He cast the younger brother another glance, to which he nodded in understanding.

"No way he'd let a plane kill him, no way," Sam agreed, and tried for a smile. It only ended up half working, but that was enough. His phone gradually dimmed and then shut off, but he didn't turn it on again, for he had gotten the information he needed.

Half an hour later, Cas pulled in to refuel Baby, allowing Sam a moment along with the thoughts he didn't want rattling around inside his head. The lights under the metallic plates covering the station were much too bright and the truck idling at the next pump over was too loud. The car itself was too quiet without its rock music, which Sam had gotten used to over the years, though he would never admit it to Dean.

Sam gingerly reached down to grab a water bottle to give himself something to do. Less than twelve hours; his mental list was getting shorter the closer they got.

Cas opened the closed the door a minute later, his gaze lingering for a moment on the opened but otherwise untouched bottle of water in Sam's lap. He didn't say anything, and instead threw the car into drive and started driving away from the station.

As the too bright lights faded into the rearview mirror, Sam leaned his head against the window as he had so often done and closed his eyes. After all, Cas was right. Dean would be mad if he showed up at the hospital having gotten no sleep, and he couldn't let his brother down.

November 13, 7:42am

As predicted, they made it to the hospital just before eight in the morning, with only minimal stops. Sam had managed to somehow get a few hours of sleep on the way and Cas looked alright, so they parked the car in the big parking structure next to the hospital and closed the doors behind them.

Sam was careful to take any identification they had with them, as well as a card for health insurance. They made their way into the hospital slower than Sam would have liked, but he wasn't exactly at his top speed.

Once they were inside, it was clear that being the main hospital following a plane crash tended to make things a bit more crazy. Not that papers were flying everywhere and people were running like they had hellhounds on their heels, but nurses did seem more frazzled and most of the chairs in the waiting area were taken up.

"Stay here, I'll check with the front," Sam said quietly, and began making his way up before Cas could protest. He plastered a smile onto his face as he walked up to the front desk, trying to ignore the pain in his chest that had been aggravated by the car ride over.

"Hi, I was wondering if you could help me find someone?" he asked once the nurse finished typing on her computer and looked up at him.

"Looking for a victim of the crash?" she asked, looking probably more tired than she normally was.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, my brother was on the flight, we heard this was mainly where people were being taken. He hasn't answered his phone, or texts, and no one else has been able to reach him," he explained.

The nurse nodded at this. "Do you have records? I need a date of birth, physical description, photos, things like that."

Sam nodded again and pulled out the documents he had stored in his jacket pocket. One was a picture of Dean's driver's license, one was Sam's, and the other was a picture of the two of them together.

The nurse looked them over before she typed his name into the database. Sam looked on expectantly, trying to not drum his fingers on the counter as he had a habit of doing. She clicked a few more things before she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, he's not in the database for people that have been brought in over the past few days."

Sam's heart immediately fell. What if it was the wrong hospital? What if he hadn't been brought in yet? What if-

"But we have had a few John Does come in, lost their ID in the crash, and," she clicked a few more things, "a few still haven't been able to provide us with their information. Would you mind if I passed these off to one of the staff and had them check?"

And just like that, the tiny flickering flame of hope inside Sam's aching chest got reignited. "Yeah, yeah, of course," he nodded hurriedly.

"Great," she smiled tiredly at him. "Have a seat, I'll send the staff member over to you if they find anything."

"Thanks so much," Sam added with a smile of his own as the nurse took the documents and waved someone else over. He turned and headed back into the waiting room, finding Cas standing by the water dispenser, as all the seats were taken.

"Is he here?" the angel asked expectantly, arms folded across his chest.

Sam shrugged ever so slightly. "Maybe. He's not in the database, but they have a few John Does, so the nurse is checking it out, said for us to wait here."

Cas nodded back at the news. "If he's not here, we'll check the other hospitals."

"Yeah," Sam replied absently. He wasn't sure what else to say other than that of course they would check all the hospitals until they found Dean one way or another.

They ended up propped against the wall for the next twenty or so minutes, listening to the sounds of the hospital around them until a voice called "Sam Winchester?" and had both of them perking up.

The voice came from a middle aged blonde nurse off to the side in the front of the waiting room. Sam waved his hand and motioned for Cas to follow before making his way over.

"That's me," he introduced with a slight smile. "This is our half brother, Castiel," Sam introduced, to which Cas nodded in greeting. "Is there…is Dean here?"

The woman, 'Marian', as denoted by her name tag, looked over the two before she sighed. "If the picture and description matches the man, then…yes."

A smile immediately broke out across both men's faces, but was quickly threatened by the hesitation in Marian's voice. "He-he's okay, right, if he's here?" Sam asked, shaking his head a bit as he tried to understand where the hesitation was coming from.

"To a degree. He's alive, but he came in unconscious and with no identification or history, so he's listed as a John Doe," Marian informed. "Unfortunately, he hasn't regained consciousness since he's been in our care."

And that was the source of the hesitation, Sam found. Still, Dean was alive, that had to count for something, right?

"Do you know what's wrong?" Cas interjected, worry lines forming on his forehead.

Marian nodded before she shrugged in the slightest. "He had been in the water a while when they found him, and hypothermia had set in, like with many of the other survivors. Bruised ribs and torso in general, but it's his head that's causing problems."

"Head?" Sam clarified? Head wounds were notorious for being nasty, especially with their luck combined with the fact that Dean hadn't woken up yet.

"He has a concussion and a lot of swelling in his forehead, but we don't know how bad everything will be until he wakes up."

"He will wake up though, right?" Sam pressed, and looked worriedly between her and Cas, who had taken a sudden interest in the wall behind Marian's left shoulder.

She, in turn, sighed. "It's hard to tell. We can hope, but from the way this looks on the surface and the severity of the circumstances, you may need to prepare yourselves for the fact that this injury could have long-term effects."

Marian said it as gently as possible, but there was no easy way to tell a Winchester that there was a possibility their brother may never be the same.

At least Dean was still alive, that was all Sam kept repeating to himself. He'd wake up and he'd be fine and they'd go back to the Bunker and everything would go back to normal and-

"Sam?"

Sam shook his head, as if that would work to jostle his thoughts, but it didn't. "He will-he'll-uh, he'll be okay though, right? People bounce back from head wounds all the time."

Marian sighed again and shook her head back, blonde curls rolling on her shoulder. "Until he wakes up, I'm sorry to tell the two of you, but we just have to wait and hope."

Moving right along! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I admittedly had some trouble with it. Good news is that I'm attempting to do this story for Nanowrimo, so hopefully it'll motivate me to write a bit more! As always, thank you thank you thank you all for reading and reviewing if you have a second, and I'll see you in a week or two depending on how my schedule works out.