Okay, so I have been slacking MAJORLY on this story! I've been wanting to continue it, but I just couldn't. I finally found a spark of inspiration, and I've got the next portion of this story ready to go. If anyone is still reading, that is. Please drop me a review and let me know if you've stuck with me, and what you think of this chapter! Also, if anyone is still here, bless you for your patience. ;)

Also, I'm thinking of renaming this story. For some reason, the title of "Maybe You're Gonna Be The One That Saves Me" just isn't jiving with me anymore. This story has taken massive turns from what I was originally writing, so I'm thinking a different title is needed. Only question is ... What title? Any suggestions? ;)

-TWENTY ONE-

Meg wheeled John into the boiler room in the basement of the hospital, setting the locks on the wheelchair and whistling as she walked out. John let out a sigh, rubbing his hand down his face.

"Rough day, Johnny?"

John went still, and his blood felt like ice through his veins as he slowly turned his head to the right. A man stepped out from the shadows, one arm crossed over his chest, his other hand propped up on his chin. John swallowed.

"Nick."

Nick smiled, slowly walking in front of John. He tugged on his pants legs, then knelt down. His smile grew.

"It's been a damn long time, Gunny."

John closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. He tore his eyes from Nick's piercing blue gaze. Nick let out a sigh and stood to his feet.

"Still not much of a talker, eh Johnny? Too bad you didn't pass that little trait onto your boys."

John went tense, and Nick continued to talk.

"That oldest boy of yours … Dean, is it? He doesn't know when to shut up. But the younger one … Oh, Sam is a gem."
"You leave them alone."

Nick let out a laugh as he crossed his arms again.

"Hit a nerve?"
"You're a son of a –"

John let out a yelp as Nick was suddenly in front of him, gripping his right shoulder tightly. John grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as Nick's voice, low and venomous, whispered in his ear.

"You watch your tone with me, Winchester."

John let out a shaky breath as Nick let him go. Nick paced the room some more, finally coming to a stop. John looked up, meeting his eyes, and Nick held out a hand.

"I know you must have some questions."

John kept his mouth shut, and Nick spoke anyway.

"It was my men who attacked Dean at Blackwater Ridge. We were waiting at Sam's apartment for you and Dean. And no, the accident was no accident."
"And now Dean's come down with a mysterious virus."

Nick positively grinned.

"I know. Isn't it amazing? He's never been out of the country, and he contracts one of the deadliest viruses in Southeast Asia?"

Nick let out a laugh, sauntering back the opposite way than he'd been walking.

"Little something I picked up from my associates."
"'Associates?'"

Nick nodded.

"Ones I met while we were over there."
"You work for them now?"

Nick let out a laugh.

"Johnny … They work for me."

Sam stood at the door of John's room, slowly shaking his head. Melinda stepped up behind him, gently laying a hand on his back.

"Sam? We've been looking for you."
"He's gone."

Melinda stood on her tiptoes to look over Sam's shoulder, then let out a sigh.

"Where the hell did he go?"

Sam shook his head.

"This is so typical. He just takes off. His son is—is dying upstairs, and he fucking disappears."

Melinda closed her eyes and Sam reached back, wrapping an arm around her.

"Any news?"

She shook her head, leaning into him.

"No change. But I think that's better than anything else."

Sam nodded, gently rubbing his hand up and down her arm. Melinda let out a sigh, pulling away from him and pushing her hair behind her ears.

"Gabe has people searching for the antidote. He said he didn't care what it cost, but … It's not looking good for us, Sammy."

Sam sighed, looking up in time to see Melinda wipe a tear from her cheek. He walked over to her, taking her in his arms, and she let out a sob against his chest when she wrapped her arms around him.

"This can't be happening. I keep hoping I'll wake up and he'll be there, doing that creepy thing where he watches me sleep."

Sam let out a broken laugh, then shook his head.

"He wouldn't leave us, Mel. Not now. He's going to be fine. We're going to get that antidote and he's going to wake up and it'll be just like old times."

Sam took her back in his arms, squeezing his eyes shut, praying like hell that someone was listening and would make it happen.

John stared at Nick as he paced the room, watched him roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows. Nick glanced over, giving John a smile.

"I know you've got questions, Gunny. Lay 'em on me."
"How'd you do it?"

Nick smiled, humor dancing in his blue eyes.

"Now, Johnny. You've got to be just a little bit more specific."

John swallowed.

"How'd you get out of Gitmo?"

Nick nodded.

"I served my time, Gunny. Twenty godforsaken years in that hellhole."

Nick sighed, shaking his head.

"You know what they called it? The kids in my cellblock?"

John never took his eyes from him. Nick looked over to him, lips curled back from his teeth as he hissed out the next sentence.

"'The Pit.' That shithole we were in, they called it The Pit."

Nick shook his head.

"It was hot as hell down there, and somehow also cold and damp. A couple of the bastards in there got pneumonia and died before anyone noticed they were sick. Or before we bothered to mention it."

Nick shrugged his shoulders.

"I completed my sentence. Twenty goddamn years. I passed the psych evals, showed that I was deeply sorry for what I'd done, proved to them that I had what it takes to be a functioning member of society. And in 1995, I was able to take my first breath as a free man. Despite that dishonorable discharge, I've made a name for myself, Gunny."

Nick smiled, flexing his hands, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. John went to open his mouth, closing his eyes when Nick spoke again.

"But I bet that wasn't your question, was it? That's not the answer you were looking for, was it, Gunny? You want to know how I got to Leo."

Pain shot through John's heart at the mention of one of his dearest friends. He opened his eyes to see Nick staring at him with a predatory smile on his face.

"Let's have story time, shall we?"

Nick clapped his hands twice, and a man came walking in with a chair in his arms. He set the chair down and Nick took a seat. The man walked back out, chaining the door shut behind him. John watched the exchange, until a snort from Nick made him look back.

"We can discuss that later. Let's talk about what you're just dying to know. If I was in The Pit, how did I exact my revenge on Leo?"

John clenched his teeth together, and Nick sat back in the chair, crossing his right ankle over his left knee.

"Sometimes, Gunny, you have to get someone else to do the dirty work for you. This guard at the prison? Name was Crowley. He'd make a deal for just about anything."

Nick nodded towards John.

"I told him all about you and Jim and Leo, and he was more than happy to oblige me. He made a trip to San Fran, and … Well. I suppose you know the rest."

Nick nodded again, letting his foot fall back to the floor, leaning over and putting his elbows on his knees.

"Crowley found these two guys to take with him, some weird guy with some weird medical condition that made his eyes yellow. Creepy as fuck to look at. The other guy was just your run-of-the-mill dumb bastard, and when it was all over, Crowley took the game plan just a step further."

Nick shook his head, letting out a long breath.

"He didn't have to kill the idiots. I mean, God. Yes, they were imbeciles. But did they deserve to die?"

Nick shrugged his shoulders.

"I thought about getting rid of Crowley, for going past what we discussed and taking matters into his own hands. But he's proven himself over the years."

Nick smiled again.

"Even managed to grab himself the nickname of "King of Hell" from the kids in the Pit."
"Crowley ran the shit while you were in prison."

Nick laughed quietly to himself.

"Crowley's a goddamn figurehead, John. I ran the shit. Always have."

Nick leaned forward, voice quiet and lethal.

"Ever since I started it up on November 2, 1983."

Bobby watched the sun go down from the dirty window in the waiting room. He felt rather than heard someone come up beside him, and a glance down revealed the man who'd barely left Melinda's side since Bobby had arrived. Gabriel let out a sigh, sliding his hands into his pockets as Bobby's voice rumbled quietly.

"She all right?"

Gabe sighed, nodding.

"As all right as she can be. This is a shitty situation."

Bobby let out a quiet laugh.

"Apt description."

Gabe nodded again, and they both went silent. Bobby closed his eyes at the man's next quiet words.

"You think he's going to make it?"

It took a few minutes before he could speak confidently, without the threat of tears.

"I think if anyone can, it'll be Dean. Kid's a stubborn cuss. Always has been. Spent his life trying to prove people wrong."

Bobby swallowed, blinking hard.

"I just don't know if that's enough this time."

Gabe let out a shaky breath. He lifted a hand, pushing it through his copper-colored hair. He cleared his throat.

"I've done everything I can. There's just …"

He shook his head, and Bobby let out a sigh. He reached over, squeezing Gabe's shoulder. He gently patted his back, then turned back to the window. Bobby shook his head.

"I can't shake this feeling of … foreboding."

Gabe let out a laugh.

"We're in a pretty foreboding situation, wouldn't you say?"

Bobby snorted, then shook his head.

"No, it's … Something else. I just don't know what."

John gripped the arms of his chair, breathing hard. He'd vomited on the floor, right beside the left wheel of his chair, and Nick just sat back in his chair, watching. John shook his head, tears in his eyes, soaking his face.

"You son of a bitch."

Nick let out a laugh, and John shook his head again.

"We didn't do anything to you! You're getting revenge for things you made up!"

Nick shook his head, an incredulous look on his face.

"Things I made up? John, I was court-martialed. The three of you stood up in court, in front of our superiors and blamed me for everything."
"Everything that you did! We told the truth, Nick, and—"
"And I lost everything!"

Nick stood to his feet, pushing his hands through his hair.

"That war took everything from me. First Michael. Then you three. What else was I supposed to do? Those bastards took my brother's life for no damn reason. I found the people who did it, and I made them pay, since it was fucking clear that no one else would."
"Nick, there's no way to know who exactly killed Michael. You were killing any person you could find. There was … Some of them were children."

Nick shook his head.

"No. No, I did what I had to in order to avenge my brother. And my best friends wouldn't even stand by me. We'd been through everything together, John. Our whole lives. And you three betrayed me when I needed you most."

John closed his eyes, feeling his stomach roil again. Nick's voice was calm when he spoke again.

"You betrayed me. Leo betrayed me. Even Jim betrayed me. Perfect, pious Jim turned his back on his friend when I needed him most. What's that Bible verse? 'An eye for an eye?' That's all I'm doing."

John shook his head.

"Leo had to watch his family die before he did. How is that an eye for an eye?"

Nick grit his teeth, closing his eyes.

"This conversation is over. Leo got what he deserved, and soon, you will, too."

John's blood went cold. He started to shake, looking up to Nick. Nick shook his head, standing up, angrily pushing his sleeves back down his arms. He walked towards the door, and John closed his eyes.

"Wait!"

Nick stopped, slowly turned back to face the man in the wheelchair. John took in a deep breath, looking up to meet the ice blue eyes.

"I … I—"

He swallowed, looking up into those dead eyes again.

"What will it take to save my son?"

Melinda sat next to Dean's bed, eyes closed, hands clasped together, resting her elbows on the bed and her forehead on her hands. She didn't care how itchy the paper gown was, or how sweaty her hands were in the gloves. She didn't care about how she was suddenly very aware of the way she breathed behind the mask and how she'd almost hyperventilated a few minutes ago.

All she cared about was sleeping in the bed before her, fever ravaging his body.

She reached over and took his hand, letting out a sigh when she squeezed his fingers. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, wishing more than anything that she could actually feel him, instead of the damn gloves.

"Hey, you."

She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Ash … Ash wanted me to tell you to wake your ass up. He's not kidding around, either. He said you'd understand."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know what he means, but he assured me you would."

She closed her eyes.

"So wake up and tell me what he means. Come on, Dean. Just wake up. Open your eyes and talk to me, please. Right now. Do it."

She opened her eyes, to see him lying the bed, completely still. She felt her eyes welling up with tears, but she refused to let them spill over. She leaned over, putting her head on the pillow beside his.

"You listen to me right now. We've been pretty easy-going so far. But enough is enough. Wake up, Winchester. I will bring Sam's iPod in here and make you listen to every minute of that angsty, Pearl Jam-y bullshit he's got on there. So help me, I will do it."

Dean's heartbeat picked up just a bit, and Melinda sat back, looking up at the monitor, then smiling over at Dean.

"Ha. Knew you were in there."

Melinda glanced over at the door as it squeaked open. A nurse walked in, decked out as much as Melinda was, where only her eyes were visible. She walked over and glanced at the monitors, pulled a syringe out of the pocket of her scrubs, hooked it to Dean's I.V. Melinda took in a breath, sliding the back of her fingers down his cheek.

"What did you give him?"

The nurse stopped at Melinda's question, and a cell phone began to ring. Melinda glanced over, picking up her phone from the table beside Dean's bed, narrowing her eyes when she realized it wasn't her phone. She looked over to the nurse, who nodded at her.

"Excuse me."

She left the room, and a chill ran down Melinda's spine. She shook her head, looking up as a knock sounded at the door. She glanced over, letting out a sigh. She leaned over, kissing Dean's forehead, but not really, since she was wearing that damn mask.

She pulled the mask off when she stepped out of the room, pulling the gown off and tossing it into the trashcan, sliding the gloves from her hands. She let out a long sigh, and Gabe patted her back.

"You all right, kiddo?"

Melinda snorted.

"Whatever the opposite of 'all right' is, that's what I am."

Gabe sighed, rubbing his hand between her shoulders.

"Let's go get some rest, okay?"
"No, I don't want to—"
"I know. But you're killing yourself, Mel."

She put her face in her hands, sliding her hands back through her hair.

"Sam needs some time with his brother."

Melinda glanced to Gabe, then let out a sigh. She nodded, and Sam came walking down the hall. He gave her a smile, bending over to kiss her cheek. He grabbed a gown and slid it over his clothes, then bent down to let Melinda tie the strings for him.

"I'll call you if anything happens."

Melinda nodded, watching as Sam slid the cap on over his hair, then the mask over his face. He winked at her, making her smile, then walked into Dean's room. She felt Gabe's hand on her back, and they slowly started walking down the hall.

"You hungry?"
"Not really?"
"Not even for cheesecake?"

Melinda smiled as she leaned over, resting her head on Gabe's shoulder.

"I might could go for some cheesecake."

It was 3:37 in the morning when a noise woke Melinda. She had no idea what the noise was, but it wouldn't stop. After nearly a minute, it did stop, and Melinda made a quiet noise before she closed her eyes again.

And as soon as she did, the noise started back up.

She groaned, untangling herself from the arm Gabe had slung across her when he came over to hold her after she woke up crying from the nightmare. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning, and the noise went away. She stretched her arms over her head, yawning again, hearing the noise begin again.

She looked over to see the little screen on Gabriel's phone flashing and she blew out her breath. She reached over and shoved him, knowing that if she wasn't forceful, he wouldn't wake up. He snorted and lifted his head, and Melinda yawned again as she pointed to the bedside table.

"Phone."

Gabe yawned as he grabbed the phone, flipping it open.

"Who is this and what do you want? Why on God's green earth would you call before the sun comes up?"

Melinda snorted, pulling the covers up, preparing to lay down again, when Gabe suddenly sat up.

"Seriously?"

Melinda straightened back up and watched Gabriel push a hand through his hair.

"Holy shit. We'll be there in five minutes."
"Gabe, what's…"

He shot out of bed, flipping the lamp on, meeting her eyes.

"Dean's awake."

Melinda tore from the elevator as soon as it stopped on the fifth floor. She ran down to Dean's room, hands latching onto Sam's arms when he caught her.

"Easy, Mel."

She pulled her arms from him, stepping around the corner, through the door. Dean was laying there, and a smile crossed his face when he saw her.

"Hey, beautiful."

A sob burst through her lips before she could hold it back. She walked into the room, falling on her knees by his bed, shaking her head as she rested it beside his legs. Dean reached down, gently carding his fingers through her hair, until she finally looked up at him. He gave her another smile, and she shook her head again, as a smile crossed her face. She moved over, reaching up to take his face in her hands.

"I love you."

His green eyes lit up, and the smile on his face was wider, more genuine than she could ever remember seeing. He let out a laugh, reaching up to pat her hands on his face, motioning for her to come closer. She did, and he whispered to her.

"What took you so long?"

She laughed, and he leaned up, pressing his lips to hers, threading his fingers through her hair.

"So you really don't remember what happened?"

Dean blew out a breath, continuously running his fingers through Melinda's hair. She was curled up beside him on the bed, one arm carefully laid over his abdomen. He shook his head, looking up to his brother.

"I don't. The last thing I remember is ... Dad? I was with Dad, and we were … Shit. I don't know."

They'd moved Dean to a regular room about an hour after he woke up. His voice was deeper than normal, raspier from the tubes that had been shoved down his throat. There was still a huge gash on his forehead, but the plastic surgeon that had stopped by (per Gabe's request) felt confident there would be minimal to no scarring. The internal injuries Dean had gotten in the car accident were healing incredibly well, the brain bleed was gone, and to quote the flabbergasted doctor, the fact that Dean was even awake was "nothing short of miraculous." Dean was unsettled by that, and couldn't shake this ominous feeling that had settled over him. Bobby felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when Dean told him that, but he just smiled and told the boy to relax.

Sam shook his head, pushing away from the wall, walking over to the small window. He stuck his fingers between the blinds and looked out, squinting his eyes at the just-risen sun. He sighed, speaking softly.

"I remember these guys were suddenly in the apartment. I didn't hear them bust in the door or anything. Just, bam, there were four guys on me, and I couldn't fight back. Then I woke up and you were laying there, bleeding. Dad was bleeding in the kitchen. I got you guys out to the car, tried to get here, and—"
"Was it a truck?"

Sam glanced away from the window, meeting Dean's eyes and nodding.

"Eighteen wheeler. Kid fell asleep or something."

Dean nodded, laying his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes. Melinda lifted her head from his chest, worry in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"Are you hurting?"

Dean smiled a second before he opened his eyes.

"No, baby."
"Don't lie to me, Winchester."

Dean let out a quiet laugh, then grimaced.

"My head."

Melinda pressed the call button before Dean got the words out, asking the nurse if he could have pain medicine. Dean tried to say he was fine, that he didn't need it, but he gave in when the nurse walked in with the syringe, hooking it to his I.V. The drugged-out haze filled his senses soon after, and he succumbed to sleep, with both Sam and Melinda watching over him.

While Dean slept, Bobby walked in to relieve Sam, who stuck his hands in his pockets and went walking down the hall. His mind was racing, too many thoughts jumbled together with the joy that his brother was all right, along with lingering worry that something else may happen to send Dean into a relapse. He sighed, looking up to find that he'd made his way down the hall to his father's room. He shook his head, glancing in, standing up straighter when John glanced his way from the bed.

"Hey, Sammy."
"What the … Where the hell have you been?"

John sighed, and Sam stepped into the room.

"Seriously, Dad. Where the hell did you go?"
"I had to get out of this room. I was going stir-crazy in here and—"
"Dean's awake."

John went still, blinking dark eyes.

"He is?"

Sam nodded.

"Is he all right?"

Sam let out a sigh.

"He can't remember anything, but he's okay. A little while ago he was bitching because the nurse told him they'd ease him into a liquid diet soon, and he was complaining that a warrior such as himself needs man food."

John let out a laugh, relief easing through his veins.

"Dad, what's going on here?"

John opened his eyes at his youngest son, saw the worry in his ever-changing eyes, looking a hell of lot like his mother at the moment. John blinked and shook his head.

"I don't know, Sammy."
"Don't give me that."

Sam blew out his breath, pacing the floor for a moment before meeting his father's eyes again.

"You disappear and Dean's knocking on death's door. Don't look at me like that. You know it's true."

John did, and he didn't say anything. Sam went on.

"We looked all over this damn hospital, and you were nowhere to be found. I finally gave up and went back to Dean, made Mel go to the hotel. And suddenly, his eyes fly open and he's coughing and trying to rip the tube out of his throat. He's up and talking like nothing's wrong, and you're back in your room like it's any old day. Come on, Dad. What's the deal?"

John laid his head back on the pillow, taking in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Sammy …"

John shook his head.

"The less you know, the better."

Sam's eyes widened.

"Oh my god. What did you do?"
"Sam."
"No, don't give me that evasive, manipulative bullshit you've always given me! I want to know the truth."
"Please, son. I don't want to fight with you."

Sam went still at the soft tone of his father's voice. John let out a quiet laugh.

"You know … Half the time we're fighting? I don't even know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads, like we've always done."

He shook his head again, letting out a breath.

"I know I've made some mistakes. Hell, I've made a ton. But I … I've always done the best I could when it came to you boys. You have to believe that, Sam. Everything I've ever done has been for you two."

Sam stepped over, reaching down and taking the hand John kept motioning towards him with.

"I know, Dad. Calm down. It's okay. Everything's okay."

John laid back, letting out a long breath. Sam swallowed, glancing around the room, looking behind him, feeling uneasy. John blinked open his eyes, looking up and seeing Sam's worried eyes on him. He smiled, and Sam nodded, letting go of his hand. John reached up and squeezed Sam's shoulder.

"You think you could wrangle a wheelchair? Take me on a little field trip to see Dean?"

Sam smiled, nodding his head. He left the room and John laid his head back against the pillow again, squeezing his eyes shut at the impending tears. He let out a few breaths, the straightened his shoulders. He opened his eyes and nodded, as he heard Sam wheeling up to the door. John looked over and gave him a smile, nodded when Sam motioned towards the bed.

"Let's get this show on the road."