A/N: Ok here is the next Chapter. As if the last Chapter didn't leave you breathless, and in need of Nitro, (hehe, you know who your are) this one will have you pushing up daisies. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: What'd I tell ya last time?

"In Heaven lay Angels, in Hell lay Devils. Where do you lay Dean?" The words were barely above a whisper. Dean stirred, and felt pain everywhere. He opened his eyes to see white light everywhere, so bright it blinded him. He put a hand over his eyes and saw plastic below it. He blinked, and the light dimmed, and he saw that the plastic was a hospital bracelet. The name Collier, Dean was printed on it. It was still February 19th, 2007 and he had been admitted at 7:05am. Looking at the clock on the wall, it read 6:21pm. Almost twelve hours . . . His heart began to race as past memories rushed back like a tidal wave. He tried to sit up, but found it difficult. Oh Christ, not again. I've died, again. Once again I've left Sammy al . . .

Dean stopped in mid thought as something else hit him. His head hurt, but he could just barely remember why he was here in the first place. Now his breathing was in pace with his heart, and he could hear the monitor next to him screeching. A nurse rushed in, and pressed a button then checked his IV bag.

"Mr. Collier, please, you have to stay still." She grabbed his shoulders with small, gentle hands and pushed him back onto the bed, but he fought. "You were in a bad accident, and you need to . . . " He shoved her away, his left arm burning from the exertion. He looked at it and saw the IV needle in his elbow and a long bandage from the needle up to his wrist. He was afraid to ask, but . . .

"Miss," He gulped, his throat dry and raspy. It felt sore like after having strep throat for a week. She caught his discomfort, and poured him a glass of water. He drank it, but it went down like glass. The pain was excruciating.

"What happened?" He managed to get out after a few futile attempts, and this one only a whisper. The nurse, her name was Aedon, had to lean in to hear him, her breasts almost falling out of her uniform. If Dean had not had been in so much pain, he would have taken time to enjoy the view.

"You came in after being in a car accident. You were unconscious, and your heart had stopped twice. The doctors had to inject your heart the second time with adrenaline. I was there and it was intense. When you came back that second time, you said one word, and one word only: 'Sammy.' Your brother?" Dean took it all in, then stared her dead in the face. Pain be damned, he would find out about Sam.

"Is my brother," Cough. "Okay? Did he," Dean hacked loudly, then spit into his empty cup. Aedon cringed. There was a little blood in it, but Dean just waved it off. "Did he survive?"

"Well, see for yourself." She walked over to the curtain beside Dean's bed and pulled it back. Lying on the next bed was his little brother, broken and unconscious. There were tubes and cords all over him. Dean felt sick as he saw how much Sam mirrored his own condition from only four months past. Tears fell from his eyes, and this time he let them.

Dean yanked the needle from his arm, fire shooting up his arm then back down. Aedon tried to stop him, but he was out of the bed before she could reach him. He was after all, much stronger than she was, even in his present state. Dean coughed again, this time it made him buckle over. He grabbed at his chest, and felt something soft under the gown. Once the fit was over, he pulled the shirt off and saw a large patch of gauze on his chest. Aedon pointed at him solemnly.

"When you came in, you had a large piece of glass imbedded in your chest. The doctors had to do surgery to remove it. You really shouldn't be moving, Mr. Collier." She reached for his shoulder, but he swerved away from her touch. He stared at his brother.

His right arm broken once again, a broken left leg, and a tube in his nose. Dean watched as an oxygen pump thumped up and down, the vision all too familiar. Dean stood way too fast, and felt the floor before he saw it. Aedon ran to his side, and again he pushed her away. Dean was done. He wanted out of here, wanted revenge. He didn't give a flying Wallenda if he was stable enough to do this, John Ryder had met his match.

XXXXX

Losing the Charger had been a bit of a loss to John, but it was only a car, and he was able to pick them up as easily as he could kill. The whole thing had happened in a matter of seconds, but to John it seemed like hours. Dean slamming on the gas and the sound of him changing gears. John calmly stepping aside to reveal the youngest Winchester for slaughter, oh it was priceless to say the least. When he saw the look on Dean's face, he almost came in his pants it was that good. He knew that Dean could not stop. The meshing of the two black babies was inevitable. The space between them was only a mere ten feet.

John chuckled to himself for the beautiful wake-up call he gave to Dean. He knew that Dean was able bodied enough to keep going, so being the reason. Watching him from across the hall, stumble and fall all over himself was enough to make him scream in ecstacy. He kept wanting to yell for him to get up, to keep moving, but that would be stupid, ignorant. Besides, he was enjoying himself too damned much.

Turning back to the elderly woman in the bed next to him, he ran a hand through her silver locks. Her eyes were glossy and vacant. She had a stroke the week before, which left her dead to the world. John cooed in her ear, knowing full well she could not comprehend anything he was saying.

"So sorry Martha, things as they are, they can only get better from here." Petting her like a dog, he slipped a pillow over her head. There was no struggle, only a mere gurgle, then nothing. Placing it back under her head, and fixing her hair, he took the keys to her caddy.

"Nice doing business with ya!"

XXXXX

Dean forced a shirt over his head, biting his tongue against the stinging in his left arm. Aedon had told him that his arm had gone through the windshield. Just the image of this made his stomach reel. Then his next thought, and it was a wrong one, was of his car. He had just fixed the damned thing after their dad died, now what would he have to do to it? Was it totaled? Then he wanted to kick himself for letting that even cross his mind. Sam was the important factor here, not the goddamned Impala. Yanking the shirt down across his chest, he looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn't realized how bad he looked.

Small bandages covered jagged and irregular cuts on his face, marring it. There was particularly long one on his left cheek. Dean touched it, sighing deeply. His eyes were dark and inset, and looked more like that of a racoon then a human. His skin was pale, even more than it was before. He looked like death warmed over. Dean turned the hot water on and let it run until the sink was enveloped with steam. He thrust his hands under the scalding water and, barely feeling it, rubbed some on his face.

As a little colour returned to his face, at least for the time being, Dean left the room in search of the bastard that damaged him and his brother.

XXXXX

At the front desk, having to lean on it since his legs were still weak, Dean waited for the nurse to bring his paperwork so he could sign himself out. The sounds of crying, laughter and yelling filtered through the bustling hallways and into Dean's already pained head. As he stood there, three doctors and a nurse ran past him screaming something about a code red. A buzzer was going off and they rushed onto an elevator and Dean could see they were going to the ICU ward. His entire body went into paralysis. Sammy, oh God please don't let it be Sammy!

The nurse was on the phone yelling something that had to do with the code. First it was a bunch of medical terms Dean only heard on ER, then he heard one sentence that was not lost in translation.

"That's a code red in room 341, Samuel Collier. He's not breathing!"