ULTIMATE DISCLAIMER IN PROFILE AND CHAPTER 1!

ULTIMATE WARNING IN PROFILE AND CHAPTER 1!

AU, OOC.

Hey, guys! Sorry for the long wait, life got in the way. :(

I'd like you to meet my Muse, Missy. -Missy waves shyly- I finally found her a name. She and Sadie are best friends.

In this chapter Missy was in a soap opera-type mood. Hope you don't mind! -Sadie's eyes flashing in disgust-

Also, I'm not a doctor, as I already stated this. I did some research, but there wasn't too much on Sam's condition in this chapter.

So, enjoy the new chapter! I can't wait to get the next one up.

PS: I hope someone's still reading TUTM despite the lack of reviews. I promise things will be better, especially in the sequel. Or right in the next chappy, if I get at least 2 reviews. :) -Sadie and Missy smiling sweetly-

The light of the morning sun peeked into the hospital, caressing one person's eyelid. A deep sigh cut through the silence of the room, as its occupant woke up from his calm sleep: hazel green iris revealed itself from under the pale eyelid.

Sam lifted his hand to wipe his face tiredly, so he can come round some more, but the thick layer of gauze covering his fingers stopped him. He turned his hand in confusion, but he noticed that his ring finger and pinkie didn't move under the gauze. Suddenly he remembered the happenings of the previous days and he let his hand fall back onto the mattress at his side mournfully. With his other hand he carefully felt his face, most of which was bandaged tightly; at the thought of his injuries an unpleasant shudder ran down his spine.

He swallowed at the intense memories, but his throat instantly protested against it. A pitcher full of water and an empty glass with a straw were standing on the nightstand. He tried to sit up, but sharp pain exploded in his body, which made him moan pitifully and collapse back onto the mattress. Accepting defeat, he pressed the button on his bed to call the nurse. A few seconds later a middle-aged woman with wavy brown hair stepped into his room with a kind smile on her face.

"What can I help you, sweetie?" she asked quietly. Sam didn't dare to speak since the flames licking his throat were turned up fully and he was a hair's breadth away to breath fire. So he just looked at the nurse then at the pitcher pleadingly. Luckily, the woman understood her patient's nonverbal message quickly. Sam gulped the cold water down through the straw with relief.

"Thank you…" he said hoarsely after pulling away. The nurse smiled at him gently and put the glass back onto the nightstand.

"Dr. Jeffries is going to examine you shortly" she informed. "Can I help with anything else?"

"Harry?" Sam asked; he flinched from the pain burning in his throat, but it was much more bearable now. The nurse looked at him a bit confused; the name hadn't rung any bells for her. "Black… hair…" Sam croaked out. "Glasses… Smoke…"

"Oh, Mr. Potter" the nurse's eyes lit up with understanding. "I just talked to the nurse stationed up there at shift change. Unfortunately, he still hasn't woken up."

Hearing that, a teardrop rolled down the young man's cheek. The nurse felt her heart break at the sad sight.

"Visit?" Sam croaked shakily.

"We'll just have to see" the nurse replied sorrowfully. "You just rest until the doctor arrives." With that she gave an encouraging smile to the young man then left the room. Sam was crying soundlessly, letting out part of his worry, before it could overflow. The sun was ascending the sky slowly, when the door opened again. Sam looked its way then let his hold up on his willpower.

Stepping into the room Dean got scared: the first thing greeting him was Sam bursting into tears and sobs. He immediately rushed to his brother's side then sitting down he pulled him into his arms. The young man's sobs were harsh but silent, muffled even more by his big brother's shoulder, and he was desperately clutching the man's jacket. Dean gently shushed him, carding his fingers through the long locks over and over, careful about Sam's bandages.

Soon Sam settled down but didn't let go of his brother. Kyle sat down on the other side of the bed, mindful of being in Sam's sight, and laid a reassuring hand onto the shaking shoulder. Dean stopped rocking his brother, but not the soothing caresses on the brown mop of hair and the calming words. A little while later Sam pulled away from his brother, hiccupping slightly; Dean smiled at the memory of little Sammy, who had been letting those sounds out after scraping his knee from a fall and his strong big brother had helped him.

"What happened?" he questioned worriedly.

"Harry…" Sam cried. "Wanna see him…"

"I'm sure the doctor will examine you soon" Dean comforted his brother. "We'll ask him then if you can visit him." Sam nodded shakily then lying back onto his pillow he began breathing deeply to get himself together. Dean all the while was stroking the young man's locks to help him.

Kyle watched fascinated the scene in front of him. He was awed by how Dean could keep his brother calm, when it was blatantly obvious that Sam wanted nothing more than to jump up and dash to the room Harry was in. The young man was still breathing deeply, eyes closed, face smooth. For all intents and purposes, he looked like he had fallen asleep under Dean's ministrations, the man keeping up the gentle caresses on the brown locks. If it weren't for the impatiently tapping index finger at Sam's side, Kyle would've been deceived by the looks of the scenery.

Minutes crawled by, silence stretching over the three of them, only disturbed by the soft taptaptap of Sam's anxiety. By the time the rays of the sun lightened into blinding golden, the door opened up. Sam's uncovered eye flew open and pinned on the newcomer: it was Dr. Jeffries.

"Good morning!" he greeted them quickly, clearly informed of his patient's wish. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

Dr. Jeffries checked the monitors, noting the results onto his clipboard then waved for the nurse, who had slipped in behind him and was waiting at the window to be called for help. The two of them checked Sam's injuries, Dean helping them with the procedure, which ended soon this way. However, when Dr. Jeffries reached for the bandages on Sam's face, the young man pulled back slightly.

"I want to see it" he stated firmly, despite the visible trembling of his body and the wide, terrified eye. Dr. Jeffries hesitated, the will to argue written all over his face, then with a sigh he nodded. With Dean helping him, Sam hobbled into the small bathroom, where a mirror was waiting for them above the sink. Sam watched his reflection with fear, the uncovered half of his face deathly pale. As Dr. Jeffries slowly unwrapped the bandage on his forehead, Sam's mind was filled with panicked thoughts. What was he thinking? Why would he want to see the disfigured face of a pathetic man that he had become? Why did he want to torture himself with the proof of his incapability to protect the person he loved? He can still call this off, he can still stop this insanity, he just needs to open his mouth and speak… Just do it… Do it…

But before he could act on his thoughts, Dr. Jeffries gently peeled the gauze away from his face.

It was a horrible sight. His brain halted to a stop, his eyes stuck onto his reflection, the air escaped his lungs. His face was full of huge blisters, the skin red and puffed up. His eyelid was stuck together where the blade reached it, just like the corner of his mouth. Without realizing it, he lifted a hand to touch the injury and he only registered the movement when he realized that he couldn't feel anything aside a strange pressure that was constantly weighing down on the injured part of his face. A voice from far away called out his name as his vision tunneled out then he was swallowed by darkness.

"Sammy?" Dean called out worriedly, as his brother's eyes glazed over then his body went limp. Dean staggered under the sudden weight, only Dr. Jeffries' hands keeping him upright. His heart almost stopped when he found that Sam's eyes were still open and wide, but they were gazing at nothing in particular. With Dr. Jeffries' help, they got the limp body back onto the bed and the doctor checked Sam over.

Kyle burrowed himself into Dean's side, trying to give the man some strength. They were both scared at the unresponsiveness Sam showed at Dr. Jeffries' prodding, no protests against the light shining into his eyes during the checking of pupil reaction, or a moan of pain when his broken leg was moved onto the mattress. There wasn't even a slight flutter of eyelids during the examination: Sam just stared up at the ceiling, gaze unfocused and unseeing.

Dr. Jeffries straightened up with a sigh after he was done bandaging the injury, and turned towards Dean and Kyle.

"What happened?" Dean asked immediately, Kyle holding onto him tightly and fearfully.

"In my opinion Sam had a great shock by seeing the severity of the burn" Dr. Jeffries answered sadly. "Hopefully this… "shutdown" will be temporary."

"Shutdown?" Dean repeated, his voice cracking slightly. "Are you saying…?"

"Everything's pointing that way" Dr. Jeffries replied the unfinished question. "Let's hope he'll snap out of it soon." With that, he nodded at them and started towards the door.

"Wait, Doc" Dean called out quickly. "If he wakes up, can we take him to see Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Of course" Dr. Jeffries smiled gently. "Just call for a nurse to bring a wheelchair for him. And I'll also need to check him over then."

"Thanks" Dean nodded and the doctor left the room with the nurse behind him. Dean slowly walked closer to the bed and sat down onto the edge. Kyle followed him, laying a hand on the man's shoulder.

"He'll be fine" he said firmly. When Dean looked at the boy, he saw the determined belief in the turquoise irises. "You'll see. He wants to see Harry."

"Hope you're right" Dean muttered, pulling the boy down into a tender kiss, just to get some of that indestructible faith burning in his lover's heart and eyes.

Sam felt like he was swimming in the ocean, the waves above him washing the stars away, leaving only the black sky behind. He couldn't do this… He was hideous… He was a freak… He couldn't be seen… A cripple… A monster…

He heard a familiar voice repeating the same thing over and over, almost growling like an animal:

'A monster! You're a monster!'

Whoever it was, they were right. He was a monster, a disfigured freak, not even worth of living… Not even worth of being loved…

Suddenly the growls were chased away by a low hum in his ears. He felt a bit disorientated: it felt like someone was next to him breathing the hum into one of his ears, but at the same time they were miles away, judging by the strange echo following the soft tone. That voice was so similar to the one that had just been growling to him. Could they be one and the same?

Feeling curiosity take over him, he concentrated on the voice, willing it to come closer and almost crying in relief when it did. The low hum got slowly but steadily stronger, and soon he could make out a melody… A soft tune from the past… His past…

He swam closer and closer, hearing words in the hum, but they were still muffled by something. He listened in more attentively, but then the melody stopped. Before he could saunter back into the darkness in disappointment, the voice began speaking. The words were still muffled by that something, which seemed to cover his ears, or maybe his mind. Nevertheless, he listened, trying to discern something out of the mumble.

One word echoed through his mind so unexpectedly that he almost jumped with fright; the only thing keeping that from happening was his heavy, immobile limbs:

'Harry…'

Harry? Who was this… Harry? Why couldn't he make out any other word, why could he hear only this one so clearly? Harry… Harry… Maybe if he repeated it enough times, he would find the answer… Harry… Harry… Such a beautiful name… Harry… Harry… Harry…

A big amount of everything exploded into his blank mind: the feeling of love, care, protectiveness… The picture of a gorgeous teen with long ebony locks glinting in navy-blue… With short tresses in complete disarray… With soft curls, more pronounced after a good night's sleep… Jade-green eyes melting into emeralds… A soft, kind voice saying: 'I love you'…

Harry… His lover… Harry was in danger… He had to find him… He needed to get out of here, before he got lost in the dark ocean again…

He needed to see Harry's lively emerald irises again, filling with love at the sight of him.

Kyle slowly trudged back towards the hospital room, coffee cup in his hand. The day was closing in on the night and seeing Dean's determination to stay with his brother, Kyle volunteered for a coffee run.

Stupor… The doctors finally stated the younger Winchester's condition. He couldn't believe it. Why would Sam retrieve into a dark, bottomless pit of unconsciousness? Why would he try to escape reality? Was his injury that much of a shame that he chose to run away instead of facing it?

According to Dean, who confessed this tearfully before hardening his expression again, Sam had too much self-hatred and guilt in his heart. Dean also said that he himself had subconsciously given his brother his fair share of blame. Kyle couldn't do anything to convince his lover of the opposite. Kyle was scared, too. If Sam doesn't wake up, it will be his fault. If only he hadn't participated in this hunt, maybe they would all be home now, Harry awake and full of life…

As he reached the door to Sam's hospital room, he caught the final notes of a lullaby. Peeking cautiously around the doorframe, he saw Dean sitting in the chair next to Sam's bed. He was leaning in close to Sam's ear and quietly humming. The man was tightly grasping Sam's lax hand, holding it against his unshaven cheek, reveling in the warmth radiating from the skin. Kyle knew that Dean only let his guard down like this, because he was alone, no witnesses around.

Dean's free hand suddenly lifted up and caressed Sam's pale cheek with his knuckles, silently pleading him to come back. The younger man remained unresponsive, not even his eyelashes fluttering in a sign of movement. The humming stopped than Dean spoke silently:

"Come on, Sammy… You need to come back… We need you…"

Kyle had to fight his tears at the broken tone. He never thought that his lover can shatter like this. It hadn't been this bad even when Dean had broken down about his cursed life.

"You remember when you tried to pursue me to go to the fair with you? And I said no so many times?" Dean let out a choked laugh at the memory. "You used your puppy eyes so much, I thought your face would freeze in that way. Guess I was right."

Dean caressed his brother's cheek again with his thumb, but nothing stirred.

"Finally I got so annoyed that I yelled at you to leave me alone already" he continued. "I could never forget how you just… deflated from hurt. For that I'm so sorry…" Dean quickly wiped a tear away with the back of his shirt sleeve. "You didn't speak to me for the whole day and almost through the next day. I know I kept up a tough exterior, but inside I was dying slowly. Just before I caved in and decided to take you to the fair, I wished to hear you whining for anything, only to hear your voice again."

Dean laughed scornfully then with a sniff he went on:

"I know, 'what a girly thought'. But it's the truth. When you left for Stanford, the most killing thing was the silence in the room. It almost drove me mad…" Dean now leaned in even closer, his voice breaking. "Please, Sammy… Come back, little brother… Don't leave me here…" No response came. Dean swallowed back a sob.

"That's your revenge, right?" he joked, shaky smirk in place. "Me, the tough, chick-flick-hater big brother reduced to a blabbering fool with feelings pouring out of his mouth. I'm even holding your hand." He turned serious again, seeing no reaction.

"Come on, Sammy… Wake up… We need you… Harry needs you…" Dean stilled, eyes widening. It looked like something in Sam's eye stirred. But how come that happened now? Why didn't it occur before?

"Sammy?" he called out hopefully, but nothing happened. Again. When he didn't see any further reaction, Dean stood up and pressed a soft kiss onto his brother's temple, carding his fingers through the brown locks, before sitting back down. Kyle decided to interrupt now.

"Hey" he spoke, stepping into the room. While he walked to Sam's bed and stroked the young man's cheek, not daring to look into the unfocused, unseeing hazel iris, he caught Dean wiping his face clean. When he saw that Dean was done, he turned to him like nothing happened and held out the Styrofoam cup.

"Thanks" Dean took the coffee, clearing his throat.

"It's so hard to see him like this" Kyle whispered sadly, glancing at Sam.

"Yeah" Dean replied shakily, but he took a sip from his coffee, gaining a few moments to compose himself. "Usually he's smiling or brooding, but he just wouldn't shut up. Although, he's been happier since he met Harry…" He snapped his gaze onto Sam's hand still in his hold with a frown. Kyle hadn't noticed this.

"I was just up at him" the boy said.

"Any changes?"

"No. Poor Harry" Dean frowned again, his eyes now on his brother's face. Kyle glanced back at the younger man, but seeing no change he continued. "I really hope they're going to wake up soon. Both of them." He snickered as he caressed Sam's cheek again. "Bobby was so surprised that the great Harry Potter-"

Kyle's words were cut off so suddenly that Dean couldn't help but tense up. However, his eyes were pinned on the same target as his lover's.

"Did you see that?" Kyle whispered, as if afraid of scaring away a wild animal. Dean could only nod. Kyle quickly hurried around the bed as Dean stood up, leaning over his brother.

"Sammy?" the man spoke gently. "Do you hear me? Sam?" His shoulders drooped when no reaction came. Kyle, however, was thinking hard. After a few seconds, Dean would swear on every living thing that he heard the typical PLING! of a light bulb going off above the boy's head. Kyle leaned closer to Sam and said:

"Do you want to see Harry?"

This time Dean knew he wasn't imagining: Sam's eyelids fluttered slightly like he was trying to close them or simply blink. Kyle looked up with a smile.

"But we talked about him before" Dean said confused, slightly disappointed that only Harry's name was able to rouse his little brother. He felt like he failed Sam again, not being the one who brought him back from the clutches of stupor. "He didn't react then."

"Maybe he didn't hear it" the understanding look in the blue eyes showed that Kyle caught the underlying emotion. "Maybe your voice helped him come closer to the surface, so he could hear it. You helped him come back, at least somewhat. Finish the process for him."

Dean seemed satisfied by Kyle's explanation, because he leaned down with a determined expression.

"I know you miss Harry…" Sam's eyelids fluttered again, stronger than before. Dean swallowed nervously then continued: "And I'm sure Harry misses you, too…" Another flutter but this time it was followed by a soft, almost inaudible moan. Dean let out a relieved little laugh and pressed a kiss onto Sam's temple again. For the next minutes he was constantly speaking, making sure he interjected Harry's name as often as possible. Kyle was standing on the other side of the bed, holding Sam's hand with a smile.

"Come on, Sammy" Dean said after Sam finally managed to blink. "We still have time for a visit to Harry." Another, longer, louder moan and the tiniest movement of Sam's eye. "Dr. Jeffries said if you wake up we can take you to see Harry." A moan, cut off by a gasp then Sam was blinking owlishly up at the ceiling. "Sammy?" Dean called out hopefully in a hushed tone. Sam turned his head slowly towards his voice.

"De'" he croaked. Dean wrapped his arms around his little brother's shoulders, shedding his tears of relief into the brown locks. Sam's hand weakly rose to lie onto the man's bicep, reassuring himself and his brother that he was back.

"Harry?" he whispered, his throat burning with thirst. A second later a straw was at his lips, waiting for him to open up. He glanced at Kyle gratefully, who smiled back relieved.

"I'll call the nurse to bring you a wheelchair." With that Dean pressed the call button then walked to the door to wait for the nurse, who arrived with Dr. Jeffries in tow.

After a quick examination, Sam was seated in the wheelchair, his broken leg propped up, his lower body covered with a soft blanket. The three of them marched down the second floor, where Harry's room was, Dean pushing Sam, Kyle walking next to his lover. At the right door, Dean stopped.

"Are you ready?" he asked warily, afraid of another episode of stupor. Sam took a deep breath then spoke firmly:

"Yes."

The picture greeting him was heartbreaking. In the middle of the room stood a hospital bed, completely surrounded by various machines. Every tube snaking out of them ended in the small frail form in the middle. Harry was covered up with a white bedspread, which made him younger and more fragile with his paler than usual skin. A ventilation tube was held by dry lips, its source whirring with every inhale and exhale. It was a maddening sound, and combined with the steady beep beep of the hear monitor it was unbearable.

Sam was wheeled closer to the bed slowly. The others noticed how the blood drained from the uncovered half of his face seeing the state of the boy. Dean arranged Sam so he could comfortably reach out for Harry. The young man immediately did just that: he grasped Harry's lax hand tenderly, as if he was afraid he would break it off.

"Harry?" Sam called out hoarsely. When no answer came, he had to will himself not to sob from the pain in his heart. His thumb constantly stroked the soft skin of Harry's hand. "Come back to me…" he choked out. "You can't leave me now…" Feeling totally helpless and annoyed by the whirs and beeps around him, he leaned closer and laid his head onto Harry's chest, his ear right on Harry's heart. The beat was so strong, for a minute he thought that it was thrumming in his head. He felt calmness washing over him at the sound and he gently wrapped an arm around the boy's waist, while his other hand slid up onto the small shoulder.

A hand lay onto his shoulder and Sam was ready to fight against the prospect of leaving, but it just squeezed and stayed in its place. Sam felt relieved that his brother was there with him, soothing him with that one simple touch.

After a few minutes of silence, the door opened. Sam didn't bother to look at the newcomer or sit up, completely engrossed by the calming rhythm of Harry's strong heart. He heard voices around him, but they were mere buzz compared to the loud thrums in his ears.

"Sammy?" Dean's soft voice broke through the haze he was lulled into by the sound. "We need to go outside."

"No" Sam whimpered, tightening his hold gently on Harry.

"It's alright, just for a few minutes. Then we'll come back, okay?"

"Why?"

"They're going to take the tube out" Sam's eye widened and he snapped his head up. However, the same picture greeted him as before. "He can breathe on his own now" Dean continued. "But he's not awake yet."

"Why doesn't he wake up?" Sam asked brokenly, a teardrop rolling down his pale cheek.

"They don't know yet" Dean replied kindly. "Let's go!"

The next thing Sam knew was that he was outside the room, gazing towards the opposite wall, while Kyle and Dean talked quietly. He didn't pay attention to them, just wishing to be back beside his lover. The few minutes felt like days; his longing to feel Harry's soft skin, to hear the heartbeats that reassured him about the boy being alive, tore him into pieces. He felt horrible that he let things get out of hand this much. He should have seen Harry's fear of the dark forest, he should have insisted harder to turn back and get Harry out of there. Maybe he would be awake now, sitting beside him in the motel room, or even back at Bobby's house.

"You can come back now" came the voice of Dr. Jeffries unexpectedly. Sam looked up with a startle. Dean was already behind his wheelchair, ready to push him back into the room. Sam was glad that his brother wheeled him back into the exact place as the first time, so Sam instantly laid his head onto the rising and falling chest and the strongly beating heart, wrapping an arm around the slim waist and resting his other hand on the shoulder. Dean's hand also returned to the same spot, and the mattress dipped behind Sam as Kyle took a seat. Harry now had a nasal cannula inserted, so only the beeps of the heart monitor filled the silence.

Sam closed his eye, letting himself drift off in a light sleep. Voices surrounded him, sometime breaking through his subconscious:

'…why doesn't he wake up?'

'…something psychological, maybe…'

'…scared from the pain, the real world…'

'…back in his abusive past…'

Dean had a point there, Sam thought as he drifted out of the sleepy haze, remembering the fragments. Harry had such a hard and horrible life, no wonder he escaped into the blissful darkness. Just like Sam did when he saw his injury…

He jerked himself out of his thoughts and looked up sleepily. Dean laid a hand on his shoulder – Sam didn't remember it being removed – and spoke:

"Let's get you back to your room! You're exhausted."

Sam didn't want to leave his lover alone, wanted to stay there until Harry woke up, but he could barely stay awake and his back was hurting like a mother in his current position. So, with a feeble nod he let his brother wheel him back into his room and tuck him into his bed. The moment his head hit the pillow, he felt himself fall into the bottomless pit of sleep.

TBC

So... it wasn't that bad, was it? -Missy wipes tears away, Sadie scowls-

Alright, Read and Review!

See you soon!