All Grace Abounds

by Cheryl W

Sometimes you don’t find faith, it finds you. Post HOTH. Dean Centric. No Slash.

5. Chapter 5

All Grace Abounds

By: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Dean or Sam, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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Chapter 5

Sandwiched between two approaching police officers, Dean felt an all too familiar sense of defeat coil around his gut. 'Crap, this is getting to be old hat…' ashamed that in a few months time he had found himself at the mercy of gun weilding cops twice, first at Karen's house and then in a small forest just outside Baltimore. 'Least these cops aren't going for their guns…yet.'

Knowing how quickly things escalated when it came to men and guns, Dean abandoned his flight or fight stance and let his shoulders fall, all the while keeping his hands in plain sight. Sliding his eyes to Sam, he shook his head, adamantly forbidding his brother to make a reckless move, just like he had done in that forest, a corrupt cop ready to put a bullet in his skull. Dean valued freedom, maybe more than the next man, but not more than Sam's freedom, never more than Sam's safety. No, he wouldn't risk Sam, not even to dodge the death penalty.

Though he registered the protest in Sam's eyes, the panic, Dean pulled his arm from his brother's grip and slowly turned around to face the first cop they had seen, who Dean instinctively knew was lead officer. After all, alpha male always recognized alpha male.

Setting his jaw, Dean prepared for what was to come, for the feel of metal cuffs scoring into his wrists, for the ache that would flare into his shoulders as his hands were yanked behind him, for the clawing helplessness that would struggle to run rampant within him as it became clear that he couldn't get free, couldn't protect Sam, couldn't even protect himself.

'This sucks out loud,' Dean grumbled internally, sighing, putting on the 'I'm so bored /just another day at the office' look for Sam who had also turned around. With his brother standing at his shoulder, still radiating that flight or fight reflex, worry gripped Dean. And worse yet, fear, fear that Sam would risk himself in some misplaced notion to save him. "Don't Sam.." he ordered lowly, his eyes beseeching Sam to obey him in this if he ever obeyed him in anything.

Reading the desperation in Dean, Sam was shocked to realize it was for him not for himself, was generated because he feared for his little brother's safety, worried that Sam would do something reckless, put himself in danger. Clenching his jaw, Sam obstinately vowed to seize any opportunity to get Dean away from the police, to keep Dean one step ahead of a jail sentence, to ensure that his brother never ever faced the death penalty. And if that meant drawing a line in the sand right here and now, amid the sick and dying, he would do it, because he wasn't willing to put his brother's fate in the hands of justice, to let anyone take Dean away from him.

So, instead of relenting to his brother's unmistakable order, Sam drew himself up to his full height. When he stepped closer to Dean, their shoulders touching, he felt the formidable Winchester wall flare to life, a wall that many had tried and failed to breech. With his muscles tensed for action and his heart thudding loudly, Sam stood silent but inside he railed at himself for not seeing this coming, for not remembering that, with their family, things could always get worse.

'Sammy!!' Dean internally growled, glaring at Sam as his brother stubbornly took up a defiant stance at his side. 'Just great. Sammy wants to play this like the OK corral… except we're unarmed and we're cast in the role of the Clanton brothers. Yeah, even I remember how well it turned out for them in the end. On the bright side, when it's all said and done, they can just roll us right down to the morgue, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Yup, Sam, freakin' super time to decide you wanna stick closer to me than glue.'

Desperate to not let it come to bloodshed, especially Sam's, Dean decided to take the bull by the horns. Stepping forward to outflank Sam, he met the police officer in the one meter zone, primed to go quietly. However, he was wholly unprepared for the cop to wrap his arms around him, to hug him, tightly! Wondering, in shock, if this was some new technique devised to subdue perpetrators, Dean barely registered the cop's words.

"Thank you for finding my boy!" the cop gasped out, desperate, thankful, emotional, clutching tighter to the young man in his arms, to the man who had saved his son's life while he himself was cruelly unaware of his son's plight.

Sam Winchester wasn't shocked by much in life but seeing his brother, his determinedly 'hands off' brother, caught in a bear hug by a cop!? That rocketed right through his pokerfaced façade. As his wide eyes met Dean's over the cop's shoulder, he knew his own features matched Dean's surprised, distrustful expression, making him uncertain how to react. But when the cop's words finally sank into Sam's brain, relief doused his wired nerves, making him want to sag against the wall. The cop was the boy's father…wasn't Dean's escort to the gas chamber.

Tracking Dean's expression as it flickered from wariness to relief to embarrassment, watching as his 'no chick flick moments' sibling uncomfortably patted the cop lightly on the back, Sam couldn't fight down a smirk. Caught in the act of bemusement, he received a promise of retribution from his brother's hard green eyes, which only upgraded his smirk to a full fledged smile.

Beneath the glare he leveled at Sam, Dean felt his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him at this man's, this father's gratitude. He felt ashamed when a prick of jealously surged through him, at what Kyle had, who Kyle had. As the older man released him from the killer bear hug and stepped clear of his personal space, Dean stammered, "Ah…yeah, well, I just stumbled onto him…was just a piece of luck that I found him."

"If there is anything I can do for you…" Kyle's father earnestly offered.

Instantly Dean shook his head, answering, "No, I just want Kyle to be OK. Have you heard anything about his condition?" he asked, his concern real and urgent.

Shadows of worry became more visible in the older man's eyes as he shook his head, swallowed. Then his eyes swung past Dean to meet his partner's as the other cop joined the threesome.

"Jason, I got another call.." the other cop started, regret in his tone and stance.

"No, I understand, Tony. I know we're on the job…" a flicker of regret sparked in Kyle's father's eyes, obviously torn between loyalty to his family and loyalty to his duty.

Seeing the conflict in the other man, Dean was surprised to feel a kinship surge within him. He knew that particular conflict, only too well. Found that he was glad when the partner gave him a free pass by simply saying, "Duty's important but family comes first, Jason. Call me when you know something about Kyle's condition." He watched silently as the two cops shook hands before Tony disappeared down the hallway.

Turning back to the Winchester brothers, Kyle's father seemed to come to realize that he had bypassed the formalities. "Oh, I'm ….well, I'm Jason, Kyle's father," and he held out his hand to Dean.

Shaking Jason's hand, Dean countered with, "I'm Dean and this is.." ready to issue his brother a fake name, to establish Sam as simply a colleague of his, just in case the wind changed and handcuffs started to make themselves known.

"I'm Sam, his brother," Sam intercepted, shaking Jason's hand in turn, proud to seal his connection with Dean. Without looking at Dean, Sam could feel his brother's reproof, knew Dean had been prepared to distance himself from him if not physically then verbally. But Sam found that he didn't want that, couldn't bare that. He was Dean's brother, it wasn't something he was ashamed of, a role he donned only when meeting grateful fathers instead of federal agents or pissed off spirits.

With the pleasantries over, Jason looked toward the emergency entrance and shifted his feet, "My wife…" he took a swallow to put more strength in his voice. "My wife was in the middle of a trial…she's…she's a district attorney."

Behind him, the Winchester brothers' eyes flew to each other, chagrined. Internally both saying 'District attorney?! Oh yeah, sure, that sounds about right for our luck!'

Oblivious to the reaction his words caused, Jason finished, "She was so upset when I called her that I told her to get someone else to drive her here." Turning back to the brothers, who quickly switched their grimaces into small smiles, Jason stammered, sounding more like a scared teenager than a forty year old cop, "I…I guess there's nothing to do but take a seat and wait. You're staying, right?"

Dean's gut tightened as the father's voice mimicked the son's, as if he were also asking 'You'll be here, right? Won't leave?' His voice was low as he answered, "Yeah." Clearing his thick throat, Dean repeated, his tone more controlled, "Yeah, I thought I'd hang around..make sure Kyle was OK."

Seeing that the two men before him were hampered from moving by their emotions, Sam took the reigns. "There were some open seats in the waiting room when I came through a couple of minutes ago…" Dean looked to him and held his hand out to indicate Sam should lead the way. Heading down the hallway, Sam felt the presence of the two men at his back, the convict and the cop. A nervous laugh nearly escaped him. If only Jason knew he had just hugged a man on the FBI's wanted list…but the thought soured as quickly as it amused. Wanted list. The freaking FBI's wanted list. And here Dean was now, taking a seat beside a cop while he waited for his district attorney wife to show up. Dean liked to play his cons ballsy but this was way out of the park.

Sitting between Jason and Sam, Dean was surprised to find it was Sam's leg that bounced nervously into his. Shooting Sam an annoyed and yet concerned look, he was surprised to see Sam's eyes darting around the waiting room, taking in everything, analyzing his findings, seemingly unhappy with the results. When he nudged Sam with his shoulder, earning his brother's eye contact, Dean saw that Sam was biting his lower lip, a sure sigh that his little brother's worried mode was in full swing. Dean raised his eyebrows in silent inquiry of what Sam's problem was. It garnered him a heated eye-bulging, eyebrow raised reply from Sam that clearly said, 'What my problem is, is soooo obvious!'

Deciding that denial was a safer avenue, Dean shrugged, twisted his hand in the air to complete his 'What?!' statement. If the fire that flared in Sam's dark eyes was any indication, Dean's deception was not lost on his brother. Slipping his eyes from Sam, Dean turned his focus on Kyle's father, was struck by the hunched poise, the way the man ran his big hands through his brown thick hair only to drop them into his lap, clenching them. Dean couldn't help think of his own father. He knew his father had willingly sacrificed his soul for him but he couldn't help wondered if John Winchester had ever sat like Jason was now, scared, hurting, panicked, worried, for his sons, for him.

Dean knew it had not been John Winchester's way to hand out tender touches, deeming such actions nothing short of crutches, crutches he would not allow his sons to lean on, to count on, to need. Such weakness was not tolerated, could not exist, not with the work they did, not with the prey they stalked, not with the life they lived. Swallowing hard, Dean wished he was like Sam, that he didn't remember what John Winchester had been like before he took up the hunter's life. Wished he didn't realize the extent of what had been stolen from him, from Sam before he even experienced it. He both treasured and hated his memories of when his father's touch was a commonplace thing, when his father's big hand would tenderly ruffle his hair, when strong arms easily scooped him up into his father's arms, when his father's voice rang with love when he said his name, as if he mattered, not for the hunt, not because he was his partner but because he was his son.

Tears threatened to spring to Dean's eyes as he sat there watching Kyle's father's tangible anguish. Because, in that moment, Dean knew in his heart that he would rather have been blessed with one of those rare tender crutches from his father a thousand times more than he wanted the 'gift' his father had bestowed on him. Would have rather had one of his father's strong calloused hands stroke his hair, to come to rest on his shoulder, more than he wanted to live while his father died, bartered his soul away for him. Would have gladly scarified the knowledge that his father was proud of him to hear his father's gruff voice say 'I love you'…just once.

Sam felt Dean's anguish before it ever reflected on his brother's too well trained facial mask, before Dean straightened in his chair, locked his jaw, and swallowed hard. Felt it like it was his emotions, like the pain was his own. Seeking out the source for Dean's sudden emotional upheaval, Sam leaned forward in his chair, enabling him to better study his brother's profile and gave him a full view of Jason's besieged posture. Though Sam knew Dean empathized with the feeling of others, especially when it came to family, that didn't account for the level of despair pouring off of his brother.

Both brothers nearly jumped when Jason's quiet choked voice interrupted their thoughts, "I've been hard on him, on Kyle. Too hard," and he raised regret filled eyes to Dean and Sam. "I tried to make him like me…independent, you know, so no one can hurt him. Forced him to be independent…even when he didn't want to be…And now…" rubbing at his eyes, shaking his head, "now to think he was out there all alone, hunting…"

"Taking pictures," Dean corrected before he could stop himself. An instant later, as Jason looked at him as if he were speaking in tongues, regret tore into Dean as he realized he might have sold Kyle out somehow. Clearing his throat he clarified, "He wasn't hunting, he was taking pictures..of the snow," he tagged on when confusion still lurked in Jason's eyes. Considering explaining further, Dean stopped as Jason sat back in his chair, ran his right hand down his left arm absently before he faced Dean.

"He likes taking pictures. Me? I like hunting. I …I wanted him to go hunting with me, wanted that to be the one thing we did together. So a couple of months ago he and I started hunting. Kyle dropped a buck his first time out. He's an excellent shot…better than me," a proud, sad smile tipped up Jason's lips but didn't chase the pain from his eyes. "But when he saw the buck… I knew, I knew it hurt him to see it dead, to know he had killed it. He never said a word though, just smiled when I said how proud I was of him, blushed when I bragged how much he was like me." Jason shook his head, "He did that for me. Went hunting, killed that buck because he wanted me to be proud of him, was so desperate to spend time with me that he did something he hated…" Frustrated, Jason sat up straighter in his chair, "I made him go hunting the rest of the season…and he…he never complained, never purposefully missed a shot. And I let myself believe that he liked it, loved it…"

"But what he actually loved was you…" Dean quietly revealed as if it were from his own soul, as if the words were his own, were to his own father, now irrevocably gone.

A tear slipped from Jason's eye and streamed down his cheek as the man nodded his head, words impossible. Before Dean could think of what to say to make things better, a light shone in Jason's eyes as he came to his feet, quickly crossed to a woman rushing into the ER and engulfed his wife in a hug of support.

It had never occurred to Sam that hunting wasn't all his brother wanted out of life, had ever wanted out of life, not until recently. Not until Dean had bluntly said, "I'm tired of this life", had suggested tossing aside hunting to hide away in Amsterdam. But now, listening to Dean gently deliver a revelation to Jason about his son, Sam wondered if the words were solely for Jason, about Jason's relationship with his son, weren't words that Dean had held his peace from speaking for twenty three years to his own father. For a moment, Sam just sat there, watching Dean's face, hoping Dean would just talk to him, would let him know how he felt, how he hurt.

Sensing Sam's inspection, Dean whined, a frustrated edge conveyed in the two words, "Ah…what?!" before lancing his eyes into Sam's intense gaze.

It wasn't the opening Sam wanted but he jumped through anyway. "Dean, did.." knowing right away that his voice had come out too gentle, too quiet, too choked with emotions to garner the reaction he wanted from Dean.

"Sam. Don't." Dean warned lowly, his eyes backing up the threat his words implied. "Just don't." Dean's nerves tightening as Sam, instead of backing off, shifted in his chair to turn fully to him. When Sam drew his left leg up onto the chair, Dean knew his little brother had strategically put himself in the perfect position to burden him with his undivided attention.

"I thought…you always seemed…" Sam wavered, not in fear of Dean's reaction but in hesitation to accept the truth. Shaking his head marginally, he dismissed the illusion he wanted so badly to cling to. His next words were quiet, sad, hating the revelation even as he accepted it. "You didn't want to hunt, did you? Not in the beginning."

"I was seven, Sam!" Dean answered instantly, bitterly, as if his brother should have known the answer to the question, should have always known the answer, though he never spoke it. Tearing his eyes away from Sam's hurt expression, Dean watched an old man hobble into the waiting room. But he could hear Sam swallowing beside him, could feel the tension, the hurt, rolling off of his brother. 'Good going. Hurting Sam. That's always a winner of a plan to make me feel better,' Dean growled internally, rubbing at his temple, wincing when he absently made contact with the butterfly bandages and wound

Sam knew that telling Dean he was sorry seemed like another round of 'too little too late', that it would mean nothing here and now. Instead he found he couldn't deny himself an excuse, to defend himself from the accusation Dean's answer leveled at him. "Dean, I always thought…"

"I was the perfect son…" bitter sadness was in Dean's tone, shone through his green eyes as they again rested on Sam.

"I didn't mean that like … I didn't mean to hurt you…" Knowing his words were so inadequate, Sam found himself offering up a confession. "I guess I was just jealous, you know."

"Don't be," and there was ice in Dean's voice, the two words revealing more than a thousand words could about the burden it had been to be that "perfect son", to wear that mantle like a noose around his neck.

But other words rang inside Sam's head, Dean's words from Rivergrove. 'I'm tired of this weight on my shoulders.' With clarity, Sam understood the weight Dean carried consisted of more than the secret of his little brother's possible fate, of keeping him safe, saving him. It was about an act of self sacrifice that had started when Dean was four, it was about Dean putting his family's needs before his own. "Hunting, you did it for Dad," Sam quietly stated, finding that he couldn't bring himself to tie his brother's sacrifice with him, with his needs, with what he asked of Dean. But one thought wouldn't stay quiet, 'Yeah, like killing me if I go dark side.'

"And for mom," Dean amended, his voice so quiet that Sam had to lean over to hear the words.

Truth. Sam had asked for it but he kept finding out that getting it from Dean always ended up scoring his soul, made him come to conclusions he never wanted to face. "And now you're doing it for me," he breathlessly said. He didn't need the acknowledgement in Dean's eyes but it cemented everything for him. Quickly he threw out, "We could stop, Dean, could just wait for Ash to get a hit on his tracking …" forgetting about his own path to redemption, his own plan to save as many people as he could so he would be spared his own fate, would be worthy enough to be saved.

"It's all I know how to do, Sam," Dean sighed, as honest as he knew how to be. Finding himself taking Kyle's advice, dropping his guard, letting Sam know him, the real Dean Winchester. It was up to Sam to decide if he liked the person his brother was. "Being a hunter is the only thing I know how to be," he confessed, finding some reassurance when Sam didn't look away in disgust, when no recriminations sparked in his brother's features.

"You can be anything you want to be. Can do whatever you put your mind to. I know your strength, Dean," Sam answered ardently, hoping his conviction, his belief, his pride in Dean shone through his words, radiated from every look he had ever leveled at his brother.

Dean smirked sadly, "What could I do that matters more than this job, Sam? More than saving people's lives?"

"You could do something that makes you happy, keeps you safe, that didn't lead to you getting hurt, getting patched up in bathrooms instead of exam rooms," Sam said brokenly, trying to not let tears gather in his eyes. Dropping his voice lower, so it didn't carry further than Dean, he counter offered, "Or how about saving lives and getting the recognition for it, the gratitude, instead of it getting you a top billing on America's Most Wanted. I want more for you, Dean. I always have."

"Sam, just stop," Dean harshly preempted Sam's fairy tale. Dean knew the path that had been chosen for him, knew in his gut that Sam's fate was negotiable, that his own was not.

Refusing to deviate from the course of action that was laid on his heart to follow, Sam firmly made his pledge. "I asked you what you wanted for yourself and you said for us to stay together, to be a family. Well, I'm not going anywhere Dean, we're together, we're staying together. But that doesn't mean we have to keep on hunting, that we can't pick a town and make a life for ourselves."

"Sam, that's a dream that's come and gone," Dean refuted, not unkindly but firmly, hating that he was always the one to shatter his brother's dreams, to slap him with the bitter realities of life, of their lives.

Sorrow seared into Sam. "I…I know Dad's gone…that you think that you and I aren't enough of a family …"

"No, not that!" Dean denied emphatically. "I mean a life without the hunt. Sam, I wish I could, but I can't pretend I don't know what's in the dark, can't sit on my hands when I hear someone's getting hurt, killed by an evil I can stop. And I can't get my identity back, can't magically erase my name from the Fed's database. There is no going back, Sam, no safe alternate universe I can slip into. This is it…for me."

Sam flinched. Dean's words, Dean's tone, they were so close to his own back in the Rivergrove clinic, when he was giving up, when his only thought was saving Dean, of making Dean see that he had to leave, that things were hopeless. And Sam found himself almost repeating the same dialogue, almost firmly saying 'it doesn't have to be.' But the fear that Dean's reply might be unchanged, might be as hopeless, as telling, as desolate as it was in that clinic, stopped Sam, made him search for another escape route, for another path to their salvation.

It came to Sam then, the gift his brother had once given him when another such crossroad lay before them, threatening to make the path under their feet diverge. "Dean, you let me have my dream…you let me go to college."

"I didn't let you…" Dean instantly protested, not with anger or hurt but simply a correction to the facts Sammy always seemed to get wrong.

"You didn't stop me…" Sam supplied evenly, quietly, gratefully, watching as Dean stilled. "You never asked me not to go. That would have stopped me, you know. I would have torn up the scholarship, grabbed the rocksalt and kept watching your back. Just one word from you…and I would have stayed, Dean." 'With you, for you.'

"Sam.." his brother's name a protest, an entreaty, an endearment.

"But I'm going to say it to you, it's unfair but I never play fair when I'm going after something I want. Stay. Stay with me Dean." With the words that had been fighting to get free for months suddenly released, Sam unknowingly held his breath, scared of Dean's reaction, his mind searching frantically for a counterargument to Dean's possible refusal.

Indignantly, Dean stated, "I'm not going anywhere," angry that Sam apparently hadn't been listening, hadn't believed him when he swore to protect him, to save him from his fate!

"You sure?" Sam's voice was impossibly quiet, pained, his eyes beseeching his brother to make things right, to save him. "When I was infected….when you were at the crossroads…you weren't thinking about staying.. you were thinking about leaving."

"I was thinking of saving you, Sam!" Dean defended, his tone hard, so contradictory considering that he was talking about an action born out of love.

"And you think I will appreciate it if you sacrifice your life to protect me? That I won't feel the same way you feel about Dad doing the same thing for you?" Sam watched as Dean's eyes dropped, as his brother's walls threatened to lock him out. "I want you with me, to face things together, to share the weight between us. And I want you to get your dream Dean, to be who you want to be instead of who Dad made you, instead of being who I am forcing you to be.

Without looking up at Sam, Dean mumbled, "You're not forcing me to be anything or anyone that I'm not, Sam."

"That right?" Sam gently challenged. "'Cause last time I checked, you open up more to strangers like Gordon than you do to me."

Mentioning the unhinged hunter's name had Dean's head snapping up, had him hissing, "Don't go there, Sam."

Seeing that he had touched a raw nerve, Sam relented, "I'm sorry. I just…it hurts when you open up to other people and not me." Snorting he joked, "You probably told the kid you rescued something about yourself that you never told me." But when Dean looked away, a tinge of shame flashing in his eyes, Sam accused, "You did, didn't you?!" At Dean's silence, Sam pressed heatedly, "Dean?!"

"Crap, Sam. Don't take it so personally!" Dean grumbled, meeting Sam's hurt gaze.

"You're my brother," and Sam couldn't help it if he sounded possessive, if his tone of voice mimicked a child who was heartbroken that his older brother chose to spend more time with his friends than with him.

"That doesn't mean you have to know everything about me!" Dean snapped back. 'That you want to know everything about me.'

"You won't let me know you like I want to," Sam accused, wishing he had Dean's trust like Dean had his.

"No one knows me better than you, Sam!" Dean confessed, making it sound like an accusation instead of a compliment.

Stunned to his core at his brother's words, at their implications, Sam felt his gut twist painfully. Numbly, he stammered, "Dean, Dad knew…"

"He knew his son as well as Jason knows his," Dean cut in, nodding his head toward Jason and his wife as they stood by the nurse's station. "He saw what he wanted to see, used what he could, discarded the rest."

His brother sounded so forlorn, so lost, Sam uttered what he thought mattered the most, the evidence that proved how wrong Dean was. "He died for you."

A sad bitter smile turned up Dean's lips and guilt poured from his eyes as he turned back to Sam, to the lost look his brother wore. "Yeah, yeah he did. And you know what I keep thinking…he said he was proud of me, that I took care of him, of you, that I had to save you…but he never said he loved me, never told me to save myself, not once. That's what I wished he had done, had said. Forget all the sacrificial lamb crap. I just wanted him to treat me like his son just one more time, Sam. And then he could have left me go and that would have been enough for me, more than enough."

"Excuse me," interrupted an unknown male voice, bringing Sam and Dean's startled eyes up to find Kyle's doctor standing in front of them. "Are you related to Kyle Stap?"

"No…I.." Dean began but Jason's urgent voice snagged the doctor's attention.

"I'm Kyle's father and this is his mother. How is he? Is he going to be alright?" Jason spoke in rapid fire succession.

"I'm sure you're anxious to see Kyle, so I'll explain his condition as we walk," the doctor kindly said, surprisingly shooting Dean an apologetic look before he began to walk away, Jason and his wife at his side, hanging on his every word, words Dean and Sam couldn't hear.

In the doctor's absence, silence choked the air between the brothers with all that had been said between them, with all the things that the doctor had not said. "I'm sure Kyle's going to be alright," Sam reassured, reading the worry in Dean's taut posture. "The doctor… he wasn't wearing that expression…you know."

Turning curious eyes on Sam, Dean questioned, "What expression?"

Suddenly Sam felt his throat close, remembering too sharply the expressions that two doctors had worn as they both told him that Dean was slipping away from him. "The 'I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do' look," his words thick, barely audible in the waiting room whose occupancy was increasing every minute.

Dean opened his mouth to ask what made Sam such an expert on 'that' look when he remembered the look his doctor had on his face when he walked in his hospital room and told him he had had a heart attack, that his heart was damaged, that he was dying. His own throat felt tight as he mumbled, "Oh…that look. Yeah, this doc wasn't wearing that look, looked relieved."

"Like he was able to give good news for a change," Sam added.

"Yeah, he did." Dean looked the direction the doctor had gone, uncertain what to do next, where this all left him. Kyle had his parents with him now. There was no need for him to stay, to believe that Kyle wanted to see him, needed to see him. And Sam was right, the doctor wasn't going to be handing out a gloom and doom prediction, Kyle was OK. That conviction, however, didn't dull the need Dean had to see the kid, to see with his own eyes that he was fine, wasn't dying, that he had indeed saved him.

Reading the uncertainty in his brother, Sam was about to tell him that it was OK with him if they hung around for a while longer when the doctor came around the corner. He walked right up to them, a determined, if sheepish look on his face. It caused both brothers to come to their feet to greet him.

The doctor looked ten years older than Dean but his eyes were old, like Dean's. Had seen too much, had seemingly sacrificed a part of himself to stop what he couldn't bare to idly stand by and watch. "I'm not really suppose to release any information to you about the boy…" the doctor started, his eyes solely on Dean, "but I saw the way you were with him..and then he kept talking about you…" Shaking his head, the doctor's resolve solidified, "I just wanted to let you know that he's going to be OK, thanks to you. If he had lost more blood, been out in this weather any longer, things would be very serious right now. He would be fighting for his life."

Relief overwhelmed Dean, so deliriously glad that the special kid he had met only an hour before was going to be fine. Then a crease wrinkled his brow, "He talked about me?"
A smile lit the doctor's tired features, lightening his eyes. "Oh yeah. He told the whole trauma team how he had prayed to God for help and then you came. That God had sent you to rescue him." Noticing the surprised look on Dean's face, the doctor continued, "He said you were out here in the waiting room, that you weren't going to leave him. That thought, that promise of yours, it kept him calm, kept the shock at bay, kept him alive." Without forewarning, the doctor extended his hand to Dean, instinctively knowing that the younger man was in his line of work, the business of saving lives, one small boy at a time.

Dean was touched and thrown off kilter by Kyle's words about him, about God, by the admiration in the doctor's eyes. Deeply honored by the hand that was being offered to him, Dean shook the doctor's hand. Finding that he couldn't help voice his gratitude for the doctor's own actions on the boy's behalf, he said, "Thanks for taking care of Kyle."

"Seems I got the easy job," the doctor lightly countered, pulling his hand free of the hand shake only to slip his hand under Dean's hand and inspect the injured flesh of Dean's palm. "Looks like you cleaned it up pretty good but it should be wrapped…" the doctor diagnosed, latching unto Dean's other hand, his silence saying that he came up with the same diagnoses with it as well.

"I know. I was going to wrap it but…" Sam faltered under Dean's glare and the doctor's smirk.

Releasing Dean's hand, the doctor eyed up the cut on Dean's forehead pronounced by the butterfly bandages. With gentle fingers he inspected the cut, looked to Sam instead of Dean when he spoke. "Looks like you got this under control too. Are you a medic?"

"No, just my pain in the butt little brother," Dean groused, making Sam blush and the doctor laugh.

"Yeah, I got one of them too," the doctor commiserated happily, dropping his hand. "I hate when they overstep the boundaries…think they are the older one," he sarcastically said, shooting Sam a wink. Focusing back on Dean, he seriously asked, "Have you had a tetanus shot recently?"

"Yeah," Dean said gruffly, cutting off any further fussing from the doctor or Sam.

"Alright. Guess I'll leave you in the hands of your know-it-all little brother," the doctor smiled, nodded his head and walked away.

"Ah shut up," Dean laughed without looking to Sam, knowing his brother was wearing a big goofy grin.

"Hey, I didn't say a thing, Dean," Sam protested, laughter in his voice as he reclaimed his seat in the waiting room.

Caught off guard when Sam sat again, Dean turned to Sam, a question in his eyes.

"Well, you can't leave without seeing the kid, Dean," Sam offhandedly said, as if it were obvious, was a given. At his words, Sam was pleased to see some of the tension leak away from Dean's features, felt his own tension loosen as his brother sank back into the chair at his side.

Leaning back in his chair, Dean couldn't stop himself from sneaking a look at Sam, at being touched by his brother's compassion for him. "Sam.." he croaked out before he cleared his throat. "I…I appreciate what….thanks," he managed to get out.

"Don't mention it," Sam answered, the light in his eyes telling Dean that he valued his stammering words of thanks, would tuck them away with everything else Dean said…and never said, didn't need to say. After a moment of silence, Sam shook his head as if to clear it, "So let me get this straight…you wrecked the Impala?" a devious grin on his face, remembering only too clearly the lectures he had endured about his mishandling of the precious metal member of the Winchester clan. It was almost worth the crappy events of the day when he saw the light of protest spark in Dean's eyes. Yeah, it might be a long wait until they could see Kyle but it wouldn't be a tedious one, not with Dean around, never with Dean around.

TBC

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Thank you so much for reading and I would love to hear your thoughts!

This tale should wrap itself up in two or three more chapters…(Thought I'ld give you that much info just in case you guys were worried that I was never going to finish dragging this story out. I just keep coming up with issues I want the boys to deal with. Them with issues?! Where do I get such crazy ideas, huh?!)

Again, I really appreciate all of you readers out there!

Have a great day!
Cheryl W.

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