Author's Note: I can't believe I am already updating so soon. Believe me, this is something that is not very common for me. I try to update once a week, but this story is just speaking to me and your encouragement is really helping this flow and get updates out sooner.

Again, thank you so much for your wonderful, warm reviews. I deeply appreciate them and they are what give this author the fuel necessary for writing. I hope that you continue to enjoy this and as always, leave me your honest opinion.

Oh, and a BIG thanks to my BETAs! They really are two of the greatest people, ever!

On to the chapter!

When Sam took his mother's hand, he felt as if he was falling down a never-ending hole. He felt his stomach tying up in knots, his hands were clammy, but there wasn't anything he could do. He kept reaching out, trying to find something to hold on to, but to no avail. After what seemed an eternity, but was probably only mere seconds, his feet softly touched the ground.

He looked up and immediately recognized his surroundings. He was back in Lawrence, Kansas, outside of a small modest home. It wasn't much to brag about with its fading blue paint, grimy windows and unkempt yard, but it was a place the Winchester men called home for a couple of years following Mary's death.

Sam slowly pulled his hand away from his mother and pushed through the old gate to the chain length fence surrounding the yard. It made a loud creaking noise and he paused, knowing someone had to have heard it. Mary nudged him on and they continued to walk towards the door.

"Why did we come here?" He glanced over his shoulder to look at Mary.

"This was where your journey began twenty-three years ago, so what better place to start?"

They slowly ascended the three small stairs and came to a stop on the tiny porch in front of the old, wooden door. Sam held out a hand to open it, but then stopped.

"What is it, Sam?"

"Can we just go in there?" Sam asked, unsure. "I mean, is this going to somehow alter the past, my future?"

Mary shook her head. "Not at all. Think of this as if you are watching a video recording. Only instead of watching it on television, you're seeing it in person."

Sam nodded his head, understanding, and opened the door. It softly creaked on its hinges, but Sam was sure he was the only one who heard it. He stepped into the stuffy home, and was hit with an overwhelming sense of familiarity, striking him as odd. He was only two when John began his crusade to find the thing that killed his mother and he knew he shouldn't be remembering this house. Yet, somehow, it felt as if he only left yesterday.

He could hear small children's voices coming from the right, so he carefully made his way in that direction. He didn't have to turn around to know Mary was still following him. He walked into a tiny, cramped living room, littered with old newspapers, toys, and a few dirty dishes.

Mary let a small laugh escape past her lips. "Your father never could learn how to pick up a mess."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah." He glanced towards the middle of the room—the only visible area in the entire room—and saw two boys playing. A smile instantly lit his face as he saw a six year old Dean, patiently playing blocks with a two year old Sam.

Dean spelled out a word, desperately trying in vain to get his younger brother to stop knocking them away. "Stop, Sammy. I'm trying to show you how to spell your name."

The younger child giggled and went about throwing blocks around the room.

Dean glanced at Sam, never once losing patience with his baby brother. He just took a deep breath and went about his task. Finally, he was able t complete it.

"Look, Sammy, it's your name. S-A-M-M-Y." He pointed to each block.

Sammy looked up at his older brother and smiled. "Dean!" he squealed joyfully. He got up from where he was sitting on the puke green carpet next to Dean and began to jump and run around his brother. Dean glanced down at the forgotten blocks and shook his head as he watched Sam continue to bounce around the room.

"Be careful, Sammy."

But the warning fell on deaf ears as Sam lost his footing and fell face-first to the floor. For a brief second, there was nothing but silence as the young boy lay stunned on the floor. Dean watched him, gauging what his younger sibling's reaction would be. Then the silence was broken as Sammy began to wail.

Sam glanced up at his brother through tear-filled hazel eyes and Dean immediately jumped into action. He lifted Sam off the floor and offered words of comfort as he checked him over for any obvious sign of injuries. The only thing he could see were the slight red scrapes on Sam's knees where they rubbed against the coarse carpet.

"Are you okay, Sammy?"

Sam nodded, his bottom lip quivering, sobs quieting.

"You've got to be more careful," Dean softly reprimanded his baby brother.

"I sorry, Dean."

Sam lost the battle with his tears and began to cry loudly once again. Dean hugged the sobbing child close to him, trying to soothe him. "It's okay, Sam. I'm not going to let anything else happen to you, never again."

Older Sam watched the exchange, a feeling of déjà vu sweeping through him. Dean had said almost the exact same thing to him not too long ago. "As long as I'm around, nothing bad is going to happen to you."

"Dean's still like that, to this day," Sam murmured softly.

"Yes, he is."

Sam went on as if he didn't hear her. "Every time we go on a hunt, he does nothing but protect me. It doesn't matter what's coming, he'll take it head on if that means keeping me safe."

"Come on, I want to show you something else."

Sam glanced back down one more time and saw Dean was still comforting his younger self. A small, sad smile flashed across his face as he followed Mary out of the house.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean snapped awake as soon as he heard the door to Sam's room open softly. Turning stiffly in his chair and rubbing his eyes, he saw it was Alicia, the nurse he talked to earlier. He glanced briefly at his watch and saw it was eight in the morning—he managed to get in a couple of hours of sleep.

Alicia smiled softly as she checked Sam's pulse. "How are you?" she asked, eyeing Dean.

Dean rotated his neck until he heard a few satisfying pops. "I'm okay."

Alicia nodded and went about her task. After checking Sam's pulse, she moved on to take his blood pressure. Dean kept his eyes on her as she finished her cursory check up, nodded, and made a few notes in Sam's chart.

"How's he doing?"

"Vitals seem to be good."

"Not to question your ability to do your job, but why isn't he awake yet?"

"There could be a number of reasons. It takes some people longer than others to recuperate from serious head injuries. His body needs to take time to heal itself. You just have to give it some time."

Dean chuckled wryly. "Sorry, waiting never was my strong suit."

"I can tell that by looking at you."

Dean glanced up at the cute nurse, a half-smile creeping up on his face. "Am I that obvious?"

"Not really, no," Alicia admitted. "You actually seem the type who hides his feelings. With what I do around here, I've learned to read people."

Dean arched an eyebrow, slightly surprised and suspicious. He didn't like a complete stranger being able to get such a read on him. He was one to always hide his emotions. In all of his twenty-seven years, there was only one person who was able to read him like a book and he was lying in a hospital bed. Dean never was able to hide things from his kid brother. Sure, he did a hell of a job trying to mask those emotions through anger and smart-ass remarks, but no matter what, Sam always seemed to know what he was feeling and to some degree, that bothered the hell out of the older brother.

Alicia smiled apologetically. "Look, I didn't mean to put you on the spot."

"You didn't."

Dean wasn't sure if she believed him or not as she shrugged. "I'm sure you need a break. While it's not the best, there is some coffee in the cafeteria. Why don't you go grab a cup and I'll sit here with your brother until you get back."

Dean could think of a million reasons why he wouldn't leave Sam right then. Alicia seemed to be a nice enough person, but Dean Winchester learned long ago not to take anyone at face value. He met a lot of unsavory people in the past and knew what evils they were capable of. It was best to assume that everyone was bad in his line of work; they had to earn his trust. There was no way he was leaving his kid brother alone, even if it was for no longer than five minutes. Until Sam decided to open his eyes, Dean wasn't budging from that room.

"I'm okay," Dean said—it was a lame excuse and he knew it.

"You don't want to leave your brother, I get it. I have a kid sister and I'm the exact same way with her. Tell you what, you stay here with Sam and I'll go get you some coffee."

Dean flashed her a smile somewhere between sheepish and grateful. He felt sheepish because he was letting this woman see him at his most vulnerable. He felt grateful because she understood his reasoning and she knew why he did it.

"Thanks."

Alicia nodded and quietly walked out of the room. Hearing the door click softly, Dean turned his attention to his sleeping brother. He rubbed a hand through his spiky hair and sighed.

"I know I'm being ridiculous, Sammy, but I couldn't leave you alone. Alicia seems to be a nice enough girl but you just never know, right?"

When Sam didn't answer, Dean chuckled, slightly embarrassed. "I'm not willing to chance that with you, Sammy—not now, not ever." He gave Sam's hand a gentle squeeze, secretly glad his baby brother couldn't hear what he was saying. He would laugh his ass off if he heard me being all girly on him, he thought. Definitely not something I would live down for a long time.

But, God, what Dean wouldn't give to have his brother awake right now. What he wouldn't give to hear that cackle Sam called a laugh. He needed his brother more than he would admit, especially now, especially after he lost John not too long ago. He couldn't, wouldn't lose Sam. He couldn't lose the one person he cared most about in this cruel world, the one who gave him reason to fight the good fight.

Not to sound like a horrible cliché, Dean Winchester needed his brother.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

As Alicia closed the door to Sam's room, she couldn't help but let a small smile play across her lips. Sure, she had seen protective family members before—they were expected around a hospital when a person could do nothing more but wait for news of their loved one. In all of her five years working at Memphis General, she never came across one as protective and possessive as Dean Richards. She could tell she was going to have a battle on her hands with him.

To say Alicia Gibbons was a giver would be a complete understatement. Hailing from Montgomery, Alabama, she knew long ago she wanted to become a nurse. She wanted to know she could help people on a daily basis, even if she gave them nothing more than a smile. The fact she was able to care for people professionally gave her more satisfaction than anything else she could possibly do with her life. Besides, she got to meet interesting people every day, like Dean.

It was evident from their initial meeting in the waiting room, Dean and his brother shared a special bond. Though she hadn't gotten the pleasure of speaking with Sam yet, she knew the feeling had to be mutual. It was obvious the love Dean shared for his brother, even though he was doing a fine job of trying to cover that fact up. But it was like Alicia told him—she knew how to read people, she always had.

Even with that talent, Alicia admitted Dean wasn't easy to read. He was putting up a front with her, to show her he wasn't weak. She learned long ago everyone was weak, just some refused to show it more than others. Every person had that one moment of weakness, of complete vulnerability, and when it came to Dean, it was Sam.

Pushing away from the door, she walked past the nurses' station, offering a quick wave, and made her way to the bank of elevators taking up a good portion of the left wall. Pressing the "down" button, she occupied the first available one and made her way to the Lobby, where the cafeteria was nestled between the gift shop and florist.

As she fixed two cups of coffee, her eyes spied some glazed donuts that were just being placed on the buffet line. Popping a few into a small white paper bag, she grabbed the coffee and paid for her purchases. She left the cafeteria and walked back towards the bank of elevators. Juggling the items in her hands, she tried pushing the button, but was having little success.

"Here, Alicia, let me help you with that!"

Alicia turned her head and smiled gratefully as Regina Miller, a woman with short red hair in her mid-forties, who was a good friend and fellow nurse, rushed over. She took one of the coffees from her and held the door open as Alicia stepped inside.

"I thought your shift ended at eight o'clock. What are you still doing here?" Regina asked as the elevator began its slow journey up.

"It did, but I thought I would stick around for a bit."

"But it's Christmas. Surely, you have other plans, better plans, than sticking around here all day."

Alicia shook her head. "Not really. There's just someone here I thought could use a little help, so here I am."

"A patient?"

"A patient's brother, actually."

Regina put on her "mother hen" persona. "Sweetie, do you ever know when to stop?"

"I guess I don't." Alicia took the coffee from her friend and smiled, shrugging helplessly. Regina was right—Alicia never knew when to stop helping people. She tried to do things for herself every once and a while, but always failed miserably. People around the hospital gave her a hard time, but she didn't care.

So, yes, Alicia Gibbons was a giver.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam felt as if he was going through a time portal. As soon as he stepped out of his old home in Lawrence, he stepped into another world, one that was all too familiar. He was sitting in the backseat on his brother's beloved classic Impala, with his mother right beside him. From his position, he could see Dean driving and his younger self sitting in the passenger seat. The only difference was now he was a gawky thirteen year old, not a baby.

"Come on, Sammy," seventeen year old Dean was saying. "You need to tell me what's going on."

Sam stared out the window, sulking. "I don't want to talk about it," he said in a slightly nasal voice—it was obvious this Sam had not yet reached puberty.

"Sam, I had to pick you up in the middle of the school day, which is weird in itself. Usually it's me who's getting picked up." Dean glanced at his younger brother. "Now, tell me what's going on with you."

Sam stubbornly shook his head, his mop of brown hair falling over his eyes. "It's nothing."

Dean let out a long, weary sigh. He usually hated when his baby brother was in one of his broody moods. It meant he had to work much harder to get the information he wanted out of him. He glanced at Sam again, and seeing his brother's gaze remained focused on the passing scenery, jerked the wheel to the right and pulled over onto a grassy strip. He killed the engine, but didn't look over at Sam.

"Why did you stop?"

"Because you're going to talk to me," Dean answered. "The way I figure it, Sammy, you have two options: you can either tell me what's going on or we can go back to the motel and wait for Dad to get back and you can tell him why I had to drop everything to pick you up."

"The remote control must have been sad to see you go."

"All right—you made your choice." Dean reached for the keys, but Sam stopped him.

"No, wait!" His young voice sounded panicked. "I don't want to talk to Dad!"

"Then you better come up with something for me within the next five seconds."

Sam glanced down at his lap, playing absently with the hem of his shirt. Dean could almost sense the battle going on in his kid brother's head. Sam was afraid of something and Dean knew that. But his hesitation told Dean Sam was also afraid of how we would react. Dean always was a little hotheaded when it came to Sam.

"Clock's running down, Sammy," Dean said, glancing sideways at him. But he didn't sound annoyed or aggravated, he was trying to get him to open up. It amazed Dean how much patience he could posses when it came to Sam.

Sam took a deep breath, his brows furrowed, though Dean couldn't seen them because of his hair. God, the kid needs a haircut, he thought to himself.

"It's the kids at school."

"What about them? Are they still giving you problems?"

Sam nodded weakly.

"Damn it, Sammy!" Dean hit the steering wheel in frustration, causing Sam to flinch. He took a calming breath and glanced at the sulking boy once again. "What are they saying?"

"Don't worry about it, Dean. It's nothing."

"Yeah? It doesn't sound like nothing to me, Sam! Now, you either tell me what's going on or I'll turn this car around and find out myself."

"They just won't leave me alone. They keep picking on me and saying things about Dad, about our family."

"What things?"

"Tom heard his dad talking to a couple of the neighbors. He said his dad heard Dad talking the other night at the bar. He was drinking a lot and Tom's dad said Dad was mumbling about demons and fires and stuff. But Dad would never do that, right Dean?"

"Sam, you know how Dad can get sometimes. All this hunting, it does something to him. When he starts drinking, he gets a little careless. But you know that kind of stuff is real, Sammy. You've seen it with your own eyes."

"I know I have, but I can't tell them that. Then they really would give me hell."

"You can't let them get to you like that, Sam. The things you've witnessed would make every one of those guys piss their pants if they ever came face-to-face with them."

"That's not all, Dean."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at his younger sibling. "There's more?"

"They said you and me were going to end up just like Dad, follow in his footsteps, spouting to the heavens or anyone who will listen about monsters and demons. They said it was a good thing Mom died when she did—then she wouldn't have to see what we've turned into—a bunch of nut jobs."

Dean clenched the wheel tightly, his knuckles turning bright white. He gritted his teeth and tried to take deep, calming breaths but he was having a hard time focusing on anything but his anger. Who do these little bastards think they are, spewing out shit like that to his baby brother? Where the hell did they get off speaking about his family like that? Dean wasn't stupid—he knew his family was broken, they had been since that damn fire. But it didn't give anyone the right to rub it in Sam's face, especially when the kid blamed himself for the misery that had been brought down on their family.

"Sam, I want you to look at me and listen." Dean's voice was firm. "I don't want you to pay attention to anything they say to you, year hear me?"

Sam nodded.

"Good. If they say something else to you, I want you to deck them."

Sam shook his head. "Dean, I can't do that."

"Yes, you can, Sammy. You know how to fight, so do it. Quit letting those idiots walk all over you. The sooner you do something about it, the sooner they leave you alone."

"But, Dean, I'll get in trouble."

Dean shrugged. "Then get in trouble, Sam. You don't have to prove to everyone what a saint you are. The most you'll get is a three day suspension, and it will be worth it."

"But Dad—"

"Don't worry about Dad. I'll deal with him."

Sam nodded and turned to look out the window once more. Dean nodded, satisfied. Okay, sure…he shouldn't have told the kid to fight, but what else could he do? And though he would, Dean couldn't fight every one of Sam's battles; he had to learn to fight for himself. While Dean was sure there would be a fall out from John, he welcomed it. He told Sam he would deal with their dad and he meant it.

Starting the car and pulling onto the road once more, Dean barely heard Sam. "Thanks, Dean."

Sam blinked and instead of sitting in the back of the Impala, he and Mary were standing on the side of the road where the car had been. Sam chuckled to himself and smiled.

"What is it?" Mary asked.

"I did what Dean told me to do—I fought those guys with all I had. I remember Dean was so proud of me, but Dad? Dad was pissed. And like Dean promised, he took care of it."

"Like he always has, Sam."

"Yeah." Sam let out a deep sigh. "So, what happens now? Where do we go next?"

"Now, I show you what would have happened. I'll show you how Dean would have grown up if he didn't have you in his life, Sammy."