Here we go with chapter 2!! Thanks to my beta and all the readers! Love u all xx

What can you say or do to help the most important person of your life when you have stopped knowing him and his life has come apart?

-2-

I sat in the back of the ambulance, with an oxygen mask covering my mouth and nose and a weird feeling of detachment over the rest of my body. A woman doctor was dressing my hand after applying some kind of cream to it. I knew I should be hurting, but I don't recall being in any pain. Actually, I don't recall feeling anything at all. Maybe somebody had gone behind my back and managed to give me some kind of sedative even though I had strongly insisted against it.

I jerked when I felt someone hovering behind me and wrapping a blanket over my shoulders.

"What are you doing?" I asked, protesting weakly.

"Please, sir, stay still," the doctor ordered, tightening her grip on my arm.

"It's just a blanket, sir," the voice of a nurse chimed in from behind.

Annoyed by their condescending tone, I tried to shrug the blanket off, but the nurse put a hand on my shoulders to stop me. That was more that I could stand. Having one person immobilizing my arm and another grabbing my back made me feel like I was trapped.

"Get off me," I growled "I'm not cold."

"You're trembling, sir."

Was I? Funny, I hadn't noticed. But now that she had mentioned it, I felt a chilly sensation numbing my body. But I still didn't want the blanket. And I didn't regret having given my jacket to Sam.

My brother was in the other ambulance about 40 feet from me. He had rejected the oxygen mask with a glare that could have frozen hell. The only thing he had relented to was having his blood pressure taken, and when it was strongly suggested to him that he remain calm and lie down for a while, he had acceded by remaining seated. Otherwise he had ignored the rest of the doctors' babble.

I kept staring at him, studying his movements, conscious of the slightest twitch. I hadn't recovered yet from seeing him shut down on me, right before my eyes. Ever since that moment, I had been feeling a weight on my chest, like a rock was rolling over my throat and my stomach in waves. There was an odd sense of masochistic morbidity in watching Sam from afar now. It was as if I wanted to verify the extent to which he had stopped being the brother I had known and to become aware of how many ways I was going to be unable to fix him.

Sam, on the other hand, kept staring blankly at the burning house while the firemen worked. His lips were pursed in a thin, tense line, and he was clutching fiercely at my jacket which was still around him.

"Sir?... Sir?"

Someone was trying to get my attention. Apparently they had been for a while.

"Sir, can you hear me?"

"Huh," I muttered without moving my lips or bothering to blink.

The two women shared some words between them. The most prominent of what I managed to catch was something about shock.

"I'm fine," I grunted in annoyance.

And I'm here. So stop talking about me as if I wasn't.

"Sir, can you look at me for a sec?" the doctor that was dressing my hand asked.

Wait, no. She had already finished with the dressing; I noticed it when I found the energy to tear my eyes away from Sam.

"Are you feeling any pain?" she asked kindly, motioning to my hand with a small tilt of her head.

"No," I answered honestly.

"Are you feeling dizzy, nauseous?"

"No."

"How's your breathing?"

I had to admit the mask was helping.

"Better."

"Good," she said, smiling. "That's good. I'd like you to wear it for a few more minutes, though, okay? Here."

She showed me a small plastic bag with a white pill.

"That's a nasty burn on your hand, and later in the night it's probably going to start throbbing. It can be very uncomfortable. This is a bit stronger than a regular pain-killer. Not much, but enough to help you sleep. Take it if you need it. The pain should get better in a couple of days, and from then on aspirins will be fine. If it gets worse or you don't feel any improvement, go have it checked out at the hospital. Okay?"

"Yeah."

I'd be lying if I said I had been really listening to her —honestly, the burn and whether or not my hand was throbbing were the last things on my mind. And going to the hospital was out of the question. But hey…I had heard her.

"Fine," she said, nodding and handing me the pill. I shoved the plastic envelope inside my pocket and then reached for the mask.

"So, we done here?"

She stopped me from taking the mask off.

"Take it easy. Just a few more minutes," she said, admonishingly. "Then you can go."

She waited for me to nod, and when I did she stood, gave my shoulder a soft squeeze and left me alone with my morose thoughts. My eyes immediately went back to Sam, and I found him exactly how I had left him. His eyes were empty, and his expression set. Stony and broken at the same time. I felt a chill run down my spine and averted my eyes. I wasn't nauseous before, but I was starting to get that way now. And before I could prevent it, the blessed shock receded and unstoppable images rushed before my eyes.

The house on fire.

Sammy surrounded by flames.

Our old house in flames.

Jessica burning on the ceiling.

My mom burning…

Sammy's cries.

Sammy's pain.

I grunted, discarded the damn oxygen mask and buried my face in my hands to try and get a grip on myself. We didn't have time for me to lose it now. I had to keep it together, if not for myself, then for my brother's sake. I had failed him once, I couldn't fail him again. But for Christ's Sake, it had been there. The thing that had killed our mother had come back for my little brother and had almost taken him. It had been too close. And his girlfriend had died, and Sam had seen it. And I had seen it, and now I couldn't stop seeing it, and every time I did see it, Jessica's features blended with my mother's.

And on top of that, our father wasn't there. He should be there and not who knew where…maybe alive, maybe de-

No, I wasn't ready to follow that train of thought.

I took a deep breath and stood, leaning into the door frame until I was sure I was steady enough. After dropping the blanket inside the ambulance, I moved a few feet to the side and eyed my brother's stance before going around the ambulance and turning my back to him. I took my cell out of my pocket and dialed the familiar number, but it just went directly to voicemail, like it had all those other times.

"Dad…It's Dean," I said, then cleared my throat. "Listen I'm…huh…I'm with Sam, at Stanford. There's been an…" I shook my head and swallowed, snorting inwardly. There had been what? An accident? But it was difficult to talk to my dad about Sam's girlfriend. For years, it had been difficult to talk to him about Sam at all. "Look, something happened. A fire and I…Sam and I need you to come. Please, come." God, I hated how childish that sounded, "Huh, just…call me back, okay? Dad, call me back."

I sighed and ended the call. I wasn't feeling any better. If anything, I felt a little bit emptier after not being able to get hold of my father. If he was there, everything would be different. My father would have known how to help Sam. He wouldn't be so damn lost, not John Winchester. He would know exactly what to do, instead of hiding by the side of an ambulance feeling as if the ground would crumble beneath his feet if he so much as breathed in any direction.

"Hey, man," I felt a hand on my shoulder and, heart pounding, I swirled around. "You're Sam's brother, Dean, right?"

A black guy with a kind smile and sympathetic eyes was right by my side, looking at me questioningly. Seeming to realize how I had tensed, he immediately dropped his hand and took a step back to give me some space.

"Who are you?" I asked warily.

"I'm Simon. I'm a friend of your brother's," he answered calmly. "We heard what happened. I'm sorry, man…It's…it's terrible."

I glanced over his shoulder to locate Sam. He was right where I had left him, next to the back of his ambulance. But now there were four other kids, three girls and a guy, around him. Two of the girls were crying, and the third had wrapped her arms around Sam and was holding him tight. The guy had his hand on my brother's shoulder and was saying something to him. Sam was nodding and hugging the girl back.

I felt a wave of bitterness wash over me as I watched those people with Sam, comforting Sam, holding Sam, doing everything I had been unable to do. I knew that it was my place, that I should be the one supporting my brother in those moments. I was his family.

On the other hand, I admitted in defeat, I had no right to be jealous of those people or mad because they cared. After all, they had been with Sam during the last four years. They probably knew Sam better than I did now, and they had known Jess. Probably they had loved her too. Maybe they were his family now.

"Dean? Are you alright?" Simon asked with his voice full of concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered absently as I went to run a hand through my hair. I grimaced when I instinctively raised my bandaged one.

"How's your hand?"

"Looks worse than it is," I said, dismissing the injury. "What do you want, Simon?"

I didn't intend to be rude to him. The guy seemed genuinely concerned or, at least, he was trying his best to be nice to his friend's brother. He deserved some sort of credit for that. Unfortunately, I wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. If he felt offended, he didn't show it. I guess he deserved the credit for that too.

"Well, listen…" he started. "I don't know if you had any other plans, but some friends and I were wondering if you have any place to stay tonight. We wanted to tell you that you can come crash with us. We can find room for you. It's just that…you know, we think Sam shouldn't be alone right now."

Something tingled inside me, something that was debating whether or not I should feel offended by the implication that Sam would be alone if he was only with me. But I had no strength left to bother with my wounded pride. Probably Simon was right, and anyway I knew he hadn't meant to be accusing. As a matter of fact, it had been very considerate of him to come to me and ask me first, as if I had a say in the matter. As if he really believed I knew what was best for my brother.

I couldn't hate good old Simon. His kindness was only making me feel miserable.

"Thanks, Simon. I'm sure Sam will appreciate it," I said tiredly. "Don't worry about me, I'll just find a room in town."

Simon frowned and shook his head vehemently.

"No, man. You don't have to do that. We'll make room for the two of you, seriously. Sam's family is family. We can work it out."

Yeah…You, maybe. But I can't.

Allowing those people to take care of my brother was one thing. Being there to witness it was something completely different. I would be out of place. I was already feeling out of place as it was.

"It's cool, man," I insisted. "It won't be hard to find a motel."

"Are you sure?"

Simon seemed puzzled. I could almost hear his mind rewinding our conversation to make sure he hadn't implied they didn't want me with them. The least I could do was let him off the hook.

"I'm sure. Don't worry."

"Okay," Simon said, shrugging.

Yeah, Simon. I'm a weird guy. Nice to meet you.

"I'll tell Sam then. Are they done with your hand? You coming?" He nodded towards the group.

"Yeah," I reluctantly muttered before following him.

As we approached the group, their conversation reached our ears, and I realized with a pang of sorrow that I couldn't look Sam in the eye. I was scared of my brother…scared of what I would find if I met his gaze. Scared of not being able to give him what he needed. And especially, terrified of him not needing me at all.

"Hey, guys," Simon said, announcing our presence. He flashed a supportive smile at Sam and gave him a light pat on the arm.

"You must be Dean," one of the girls said. "I'm Rebecca."

"Rebecca," I repeated, nodding.

The guy's name was Zach, and he was Rebecca's brother. The other two girls were Christine and Martha, and both were friends of Sam and Jess. Once the introductions were over, I braced myself and raised my eyes to find my brother's. He was looking back at me, his eyes flickering gravely over my hand and back to my eyes.

You okay?

I gave him a tempered smile.

Yeah.

Jesus, it felt good to know our connection wasn't completely gone.

I arched an eyebrow.

You?

The question was lame, but I had to ask it anyway. Sam averted his eyes and looked down without answering. I gulped and had to deal with what it implied.

"So, Sam," Simon chimed in.

I took a deep breath and kept a sideways glance on Sam while his friend spoke.

"Dean and I've been talking, and we think you should come over and stay with us for a while. You can crash at my place. I've got a spare bed. Or maybe…"

"You going?" Sam interrupted him, his voice high-pitched as his eyes darted toward me with a hint of…

Panic?

"No!" I replied at once.

Maybe my answer was a bit too harsh, a little too fast. But the strong emotion that had flickered behind my brother's eyes had taken me by surprise. And in a way, it was upsetting that the first thing that had crossed Sam's mind was that I was leaving him. It was upsetting, and it hurt.

"Sam, no," I repeated, a little softer this time, looking him in the eye. "I'll just find myself a room in town."

I saw him swallow, his façade of coolness wavering ever so slightly. I wavered myself, unsure of what he wanted me to do.

"Or I can…go with you if you want." I hesitated then and glanced at Simon for confirmation. He nodded earnestly, but Sam didn't look at him. His gaze never left mine.

"Can't we just get a room together, like always?" he asked tensely.

His voice was still hoarse after the smoke inhalation, and its tone sounded broken. Wrong. The whole situation was wrong. How could he be seriously asking me that?

"Of course, kiddo," I answered, without even realizing I had called him 'kiddo' in front of a bunch of strangers. They simply didn't exist right now. "If that's what you want."

Apparently Sam felt the same way, because he didn't even frown at the pet name.

"Yeah," he said, then gulped and looked down again.

I nodded. I didn't understand it, I could hardly believe it, and I was still scared shitless of it. But the shade of need I had glimpsed in him was enough to wipe out all my doubts for the time being. If Sammy thought that that was what he needed, that's what he was going to get.

"Are you sure, Sam?" Rebecca asked gently.

She, along with the rest of Sam's friends, had kept herself politely away from the conversation. But now she and the others wanted to make sure Sam was doing the right thing. I had to remind myself that they weren't a menace, and that I owed them at least the same courtesy. So I let Sam answer for himself.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he muttered. Then he shook his head lightly and licked his lips before looking at them, "Hey guys, thanks, really. For coming, and for your offer…"

"Don't mention it, Sam."

"Yeah, you don't have to explain yourself."

"We're so sorry, Sam," Martha said. Her voice broke as she squeezed Sam's arm. "I can't believe that Jess…"

"Yeah," Sam said, and set his jaw. "Yeah, I know."

I watched as he slipped his mask firmly in place and it worried me, because I was starting to notice things I hadn't before. Like the way he seemed uncomfortable around Simon and the others, and the clipped voice he used to talk to them. They were subtle things, and I was pretty sure the others couldn't tell the difference, but I had raised Sam and basically taught him all that he knew about acting. I always knew when he was being himself and when he was pretending.

Right now, he was pretending. And I couldn't help but feel bad for his friends, because they seemed to be good people, and I was pretty sure Sam used to be at ease with them. For the last four years, Sam had belonged with them, shared their lives, laughed and cried with them. Now, overnight, Sam was treating them like strangers and keeping them at a distance.

I guess the part of me that felt possessive about my brother was secretly glad. But the bigger part that wanted him happy was devastated. And in my book, the latter would always beat the former.

"I'll be in the car," he said to me.

Wordlessly I watched him as he gently disentangled himself from his friends' hold—or at least, the people that a few hours before he must have considered his friends— and headed down the street to the Impala. I looked up at Simon and the others and struggled to find the right words to say.

"Huh, thanks, guys," I said awkwardly. "I know Sam appreciates you being here."

Well, as I said, I had taught Sam everything he knew about lying.

Zach shook his head, Christine shrugged, and Martha and Rebecca smiled mildly at me.

"It's okay." Simon said, summarizing their sentiment. "We're here if you guys need us. Anything, anytime, alright? Sam knows where to find us."

"Take care of him," Christine added.

"I will," I assured them. At least I'll try not to screw it up this time. "And…huh, sorry…about Jess. She was your friend too."

Martha's chin quivered, and Christine put her arm around her friend's waist to pull her closer. The others nodded.

"We'll see you around, Dean," Simon said. He smiled at me, and then they walked away, tossing sad glances at the burning building.

I sighed and watched the still-busy firemen for a couple of minutes before turning around and going to Sam. He was at the back of the car, rummaging in the trunk, so I went around the Impala to join him. I was uneasy about not being able to see his face behind the open door of the trunk, but when I could finally make his expression, I almost flinched at the mix of suppressed emotions held in the brief glance he spared me.

There was resolve in his eyes, but also anger; the kind that is cold and scorching at the same time, the kind that consumes you from within while it pushes you to keep on with a semblance of purpose. I had seen that shine in my father's eyes far too often to not recognize it now. And until then, I hadn't imagined anything as terrible as seeing it in my little brother's eyes.

There was also pain, sadness. Fear. But they were purposely shoved under the primal layer of cool determination Sammy was trying to pull out for the rest of the world. As much as it hurt that he considered me part of that world, though, I wasn't. I could see how absolutely lost he felt inside, how scared that sensation made him feel and how much he was hating himself for a weakness he didn't feel entitled to show.

Maybe that was why he didn't allow himself to keep eye contact for too long. I could understand that. It wouldn't be the first time I avoided his eyes, because I knew there were moments when he, simply, could read too much in mine.

"We have work to do," he said. His voice was low, achingly restrained.

He slammed the trunk closed and, for once, I forgot to worry about my car.

oooooooooooooOooooooooooooo

TBC...You won't get rid of me that easily