Disclaimer: As usual, nothing has changed since my last update and I still claim no ownership to the characters or the concept of Supernatural. Poor me.

Warnings: Nothing much in this. A little angst, mentions of medical procedures but nothing graphic. Possibly some swearing, I can't really remember. You get the drift though.

A/N: I'm not the only one still in shock over the last episode am I? Although Sam can't be dead….rite? I've seen the preview for next week, and they'll definitely come up with some way to bring him back, won't they? Some one reassure me, damn it!!! To help comfort me a little, here's another update to take our minds off things. Mainly Dean-centric, the next chapter or so will focus on him and the brothers relationship. ENJOY!!! And don't forget to try and smile, peoples!!!

Things in italics are flashbacks/memories

Chapter 14: Nobody's Fault But Mine

I sent it off in a letter
I need somethin' better
Than a nail and a hammer
To put me back together
But this ain't my first ride
It ain't my last try
Just got to keep a-movin on
Got to keep this together
Maybe next time is never

Bleeders by The Wall Flowers

-

"So tell me the truth. How is he?" Dean asked, looking up at his father.

Despite being doped up to his eyeballs, Dean was feeling pretty clear-headed. It probably helped that he couldn't feel the pounding headache he definitely had. And all those cuts and stitches. He had an ugly purple and black bruise covering his chest that made him wince to see it.

Despite all that though, he wasn't so sure that his father looked any better. And he hadn't even sustained any injuries.

Stubble was growing thickly on his fathers face, and he looked completely wrecked. The circles under his eyes would put an emo punk wearing eyeliner to shame. His shoulders were hunched even as he sat slumped in the chair beside Dean hospital bed.

"He's pretty banged up and it's going to take awhile for him to get back on his feet, but he'd doing okay," John replied, his voice as rough as gravel. "The doctors are optimistic."

Dean nodded, relieved. He still couldn't believe it was all over. That thing was finally gone, and he couldn't help but feel proud of Sam for accomplishing the task. He'd been completely out of it for the most part, but had woken up and dragged himself towards the doorway in time to see Sam fall. He'd passed out again then, and had woken up when Caleb had hauled him upright.

Still, he wouldn't be satisfied that Sam was really okay until he could see him with his own eyes. He'd slept most of the yesterday, and was getting anxious to see him.

"You know he did it for you, don't you?" John broke the uneasy silence.

Dean looked up at his father in surprise.

"Did what?"

His father was watching him, with a shadow of sorrow in his dark eyes. Dean stilled, almost afraid of what he was about to say.

"He killed that thing for you. Because he was afraid that it would go after you next. He was willing to die for you."

Dean swallowed, and blinked away the tears that flooded his eyes.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like that. I was supposed to...supposed to save him. I would have too, if it hadn't been for..." Dean coughed slightly, trying to clear his impossibly tight throat. "When I saw him in there...pinned to the wall, I thought he was already..."

He was trying his very best not to break down in front of his father, because he knew he had to be strong to keep a hold of everything he loved but sometimes it was just so hard. And Sam had almost died that night. The fear and absolute anguish he felt when he even thought about what could have happened was enough to break him.

"Dean..."

"I tried Dad. I thought he was...I thought he was dead but I still couldn't save him..." Dean choked out, his hands clenching his blankets.

"Neither of you should have been there. You shouldn't have disobeyed me, and he shouldn't have run off in the first place," John said tightly. "If we had stuck to the original plan things wouldn't have turned out like this."

Dean let his father's disappointment wash over him, and kept his head lowered, unable to meet his eyes and see the recrimination there.

"But if we had stuck to the original plan, then Sam might have died anyway."

Dean's head shot up to meet his father's steady eyes. There was anger burning there, and a myriad of different emotions that he couldn't put a name to. He felt frozen as he tried to wrap his head around what his father had just said.

"W-what?"

"There was no guarantee that the plan would have worked. We were taking a stab in the dark with no clue if it was the right direction. What I'm trying to say is..." his father cleared his throat this time and looked down at where his hands rested in his lap. "No matter how hard we try, things don't always turn out as we plan. Even the best thought out plans go wrong, Dean. All we can do is be aware of that and be prepared."

"But what about...I don't understand." Dean said helplessly. "We could have saved him if we..."

"No Dean. We all made mistakes this last few weeks. All of us. Shit, we should know by now that Sam will do things his way. Always has. He pulled himself out of this one. Not us."

Dean nodded silently. A part of him hated the fact that Sam didn't need to rely on him anymore. If Sam even depended on him a little, then Dean would have some reassurance that he could protect Sam to the best of his ability. But if Sam didn't need his protection anymore, if he could look after himself...

Dean had always identified himself as the older brother, the protector, the mediator. If he was no longer those, then what was he?

"Don't think this gets you off from disobeying a direct order though," John told him, his voice hardening with anger. "When you're fully recovered, you can expect to be cleaning guns and the Impala for months. If not the rest of your life."

Dean swallowed.

"Guess I should have seen that coming, huh?" he asked hoarsely, trying to lighten the oppressive atmosphere.

John smiled at him. "Yeah. You should've."

Dean clenched his jaw to stop it from trembling,. He felt weak as a kitten from physical exhaustion, but the emotional trauma of what had taken place little more than 24 hours ago was far more draining than any injury.

"Dad...I'm sorry."

His father blinked, looked surprised and sat up a little in the uncomfortable chair he had collapsed in.

"What for?"

Dean took a moment to clear his throat and decide what he was going to say. Words didn't come easily to him and his father. Not like they did to Sam. And apologizing was even harder.

"I was scared, the other night. I screwed up. I didn't protect Sammy like I should have..."

"Dean. You did the best you could. I know it and so does Sam."

"But still, I thought I was stronger than this. Thought I could deal with it better than I have been. I just wanted you to know that next time I'll try harder."

His dad stood up suddenly, and paced away from him to stand at the window with his back to Dean. His shoulders were tense, and one hand rasped over his three day growth. Dean waited in tense silence for the rebuke that was definitely on the way. He'd been dressed down by his father countless times before, but it never failed to shame him every time it happened. No matter how much older he got, his father still had the ability to make him feel three feet tall.

"Dean. You're alive, Sam's alive. That's all anyone can hope for. You did just fine and you should be proud. That's the most important thing."

Dean didn't know what to say. He knew that the guilt of what had taken place would never leave him, and he knew that he would never feel adequate enough to protect Sam in the future. He didn't understand why he wasn't angry at him.

So many things had gone wrong, and he wasn't sure if he would ever make sense of anything. It was too much to try and process all at once. And his head was starting to hurt again.

Dean rested his head against the stack of pillows supporting him and stared up at the ceiling, letting the sounds of the hospital wash over him.

"When can we see Sam?"

John took his time to answer, and when he did he didn't turn away from the window.

"Caleb's keeping watch over him now. He's still unconscious. They're keeping him sedated so they can monitor his head."

"Can I...I need to see him, Dad. Just to make sure he'd okay." Dean hated the pleading quality in his voice, but there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to see Sam, and he wasn't above begging if he had to.

"You're not allowed out of bed yet, Dean. You know that."

"But...couldn't you..."

This time his father turned to face him with a smile on his face.

"I'll see what I can do."

As his father left the room, Dean reclined once more on his pillows and let a small smile free. If his father couldn't use that good old Winchester charm to get his way, then he'd brow beat anyone in his way until he got what he wanted.

-

Dean sat up slightly in anticipation as he heard a commotion in the hallway. True to his word, his father had somehow made it so that Sam could be moved into his room. There was more than enough space, but they had been placed under strict orders that noise was to be kept to a minimum.

Caleb had told him what the extent of Sam's injuries earlier, and he had been pretty freaked out when he'd learned that Sam had undergone two surgeries and countless tests during the time he had been resting. The poor kid had yet to wake up, they had him on so many medications and Dean was restless and anxious to see him.

John came into the room and eyed him with a thoughtful look.

"Remember what I said Dean. No getting out of bed and keep the noise to a minimum." he warned.

Dean flapped a hand at him. "Yeah yeah. Where is he? What's taking them so long?"

"Patience obviously isn't a virtue of yours," Caleb noted dryly, joining them. "They're just coming down now."

His father was pacing the room like a caged animal, and his strained composure was beginning to rub off on Dean. He was itching to get up, and move, but he had sworn he would stay in bed if he got to see Sam. Dean always did his best to keep his promises, even if he couldn't always. Like how he'd sworn that Sam wouldn't ever get in harms way while he was alive. He'd broken that promise to himself too many times over the past week.

But he was beginning to think that Sam would get in harms way no matter what he did. Sam had a mind of his own, and he was beginning to see that Sam wouldn't always be theirs. One day he would want his own life, where he could live by his own rules and no one else's. Dean only hoped that he would be a part of that life.

"Dean..."Caleb glanced at John before moving closer to Dean's bed. "You should know...he looks pretty banged up."

"Caleb..." John growled warningly from the other side of the room.

"What? I just thought he might need to brace himself."

"I'll be fine," Dean said tightly. "I just want to see him. Make sure he's okay."

Caleb nodded and they fell into silence, Dean shifting in his bed every few moments while Caleb leaned against the wall. Eventually, his father glared at him.

"Dean, settle down. Don't make me change my mind about this. You need your rest just as much as Sam does."

Dean scowled but forced himself to stay still. It was a habit that had been drilled into him since the early days of his youth. Stake outs had been a nightmare before his father had talked to him about the importance of patience. He supposed it was a skill that was useful from time to time, but down right frustrating the rest of the time.

Dean pushed himself more upright when several nurses bustled in and began to prepare the area for Sam's arrival. One of the older ones stopped and looked at the three of them with a frown on her face.

"You understand the rules here don't you? This young man needs his rest and I won't have you disturbing him in any way. If I hear any sort of disturbance, I'll have hospital security in here faster than you can blink," she told them tightly before she turned and bustled out.

Dean glared after her. "You'd think I'd know how to..."

"Leave it Dean," his father said wearily. "I don't need you harassing the nurses after all the begging I had to do to get Sam in here."

Caleb and Dean glanced at each other, and Dean smirked when Caleb snorted.

"I doubt there was much begging involved, Johnny," Caleb laughed. "One glance at your ruggedly handsome good looks and I bet you have them wrapped around you little finger."

"Can it, Caleb."

Dean smothered his laughter with much difficulty. He was feeling a lot lighter than he could ever remember. The weight that had taken up residence in his chest and shoulders had lifted somewhat at the prospect of seeing Sam. And his father wasn't angry at him. His relief washed over Dean like a comforting balm, and he knew that things were back on their way towards normal once more. Or as normal as things got for Winchesters.

"Don't mind her," a soft voice spoke up.

It was a nurse, and a damn pretty once. Her dark locks were swept up into a pony tail, and her blue eyes shone within her sweet, heart shaped face. Dean grinned at her, seeing an instant ally.

The girl blushed prettily as her eyes swept from him, to Caleb and then to his father.

"She's a bit of a Nazi, but she's really a pushover if you don't get in her way," she said. Dean held out his hand.

"Name's Dean. That's my father, and Caleb."

"Emma. I'm your brother's nurse," she replied with a smile.

She looked to be a few years older than Dean, but that had never mattered to him in the least. He heard Caleb's muffled laughter, but ignored him completely.

"You've seen Sam?"

"I've been the one monitoring his less serious injuries," she nodded. "He's doing well."

"Well, I have no doubts of that, seeing as he has such a lovely nurse looking after him."

"Good lord," John muttered from his position near the window.

Dean knew that his father was rolling his eyes, and wondered if it was where Sam got the frustrating habit from.

"They're bringing him in now," she told him.

Sure enough, several nurses appeared at the door, carefully maneuvering Sam's bed into the room. His father turned around and watched as Sam's bed was guided into place beside Dean's. Dean didn't hear the voices of the people around him as he stared at Sam.

White bandages swathed his brothers head, and nasal prongs delivered oxygen to his sleeping brother. Deep purple bruising surrounded his brother's closed eyes, and his skin was very pale. His arms that lay on top of his blankets were both wrapped in bandages, as was one of his hands.

For a moment Dean just stared at his brothers bruised and scraped hands, and wondered where the vibrant young boy that was his brother had disappeared to. Sam was so still, and so quiet on his bed that Dean had a hard time believing that he was still alive. Never in his entire life had Sam ever been able to stay still for a second. And Dean had never heard Sam stay quiet either. Unless he was sulking and then he could ignore you so completely that you wondered if you even existed.

Dean watched in quiet devastation as the nurses hooked Sam up to the heart monitor and settled his IVs in place.

"We've given him a blood transfusion," one of the nurses was saying to his father. "The doctors were worried about how much blood he lost."

"Has he woken up yet?"

"I'm afraid not. The doctor will be in to see you shortly."

"Thank you."

Dean swallowed as he stared at his brother once more. It was true that he looked pretty banged up. In fact, he looked like he'd been gone a few rounds with a heavy weight boxer.

He felt the soft hand of Emma rest briefly on his arm before she left, but he had eyes only for his brother.

"D-dad?" Dean managed. "Are you sure he'd okay? He looks..."

"I know."

He felt his father come and stand beside him, and finally managed to tear his gaze away from Sam long enough to look up into his father's face.

"It looks pretty bad, I know. But the doctors say that his chances of a full recovery are very good."

"But w-what...I mean, what's wrong with him?"

"He had brain surgery, Deano," Caleb spoke up as he approached Sam and touched his still hand for a moment. "And a badly broken femur. Its gonna take awhile before he gets back on his feet again."

"But they said..." Dean cleared his throat. "They said he hadn't woken up yet. Why hasn't he woken up dad?"

John cleared his throat and rested a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing slightly.

"I don't know, Dean. But we're going to find out. Here's the doctor now."

Dean looked once more over at the broken body of the brother he had practically raised by himself and wondered if they could really put him back together again.

-

"Do you ever wonder if dad's gonna get married again?" a younger version of himself asked.

Dean looked up from his tattered copy of his spiderman comic and scowled at him.

"Of course not stupid."

Sam pouted at him, but returned to his drawing. Bright yellows and greens and blues decorated the crinkled piece of paper before him, and he frowned as he tilted his head and wondered what was missing from his picture. He picked up the remaining half of his purple crayon and set to work. He was lying on his stomach on the floor of the latest apartment they'd been holed up in, with his paper and crayons spread out all around him. Daddy hated it when he did his drawing on the floor, but it was more comfortable his way.

"Why not? Don't you want a mommy, Dean?"

Another annoyed snort was released from Dean but Sam didn't look up from his drawing. He didn't understand why Dean had to get all defensive whenever they talked about their mommy. It wasn't like she would care if they did. In fact, Sam was positive that she wouldn't mind in the slightest. He liked to think that she was like the angels he heard about from the Pastor. Kind, sweet and understanding.

The things mommy's were supposed to be made of.

"I already have one, shorty. And so do you. Why are you asking all these stupid questions anyway?"

"Well, Tommy from school said that his mommy went away along time ago, but now he has a new one that's no where near as good as his real mommy."

"What kind of kids do you hang out with Sammy? No, I don't think dad will marry again. He still loves our mommy too much. And don't you go and ask him about it either, stupid. He's too busy to deal with your stupid questions."

"I'm not stupid!"

"Whatever you say, short stuff." Dean muttered.

Sam scowled at Dean for a moment longer, before he looked down at his completed picture. Dean always got cranky whenever they talked about their mother. He supposed it was because he missed her still, although Sam didn't remember her at all.

Making up his mind, Sam scrambled to his feet with his picture and went over to where Dean was sprawled across the ratty old couch.

After a minute of ignoring him, Dean looked up at him in confusion.

"Here."

Sam held out his drawing and waited for him to take it.

"You can keep it. So you don't forget what mommy was like."

Dean stared at the drawing for a long time before he looked up at Sam. After a moment, he reached out and took the crude drawing from him.

"T-thanks Sammy."

Sam beamed at him. He knew that Dean would like the picture. He hoped it looked like their mommy, although he knew that she hadn't had the wings and the little glowy thing when Dean had known her. He hoped that Dean could still recognize her.

"D'you like it?" he asked eagerly. "D'you think daddy will like it too? You can share it with him if you want. I don't mind."

"It's great Sammy. Thanks."

Sam nodded and returned to where his crayons lay in wait. Maybe he would draw another one for daddy, in case Dean lost his. Dean lost everything...

-

He wasn't sure where he was anymore, although he knew it was somewhere warm. He couldn't feel that strange presence that had been hovering at the edges of his senses for what had seemed like forever now.

He hoped it was gone at last.

He felt oddly numb, but couldn't quite make sense of the strange pictures that came unbidden to his foggy mind. Just flashes really, of things that felt familiar, but danced just beyond recognition...

-

"Sammy has a girlfriend!" Dean whispered tauntingly in his ear. "Sammy and Carolyn, sitting in the tree..."

"Shut up Dean!" Sam glared at his older brother. "She wasn't my girlfriend!"

"Sure. I saw you in the playground together!"

Sam shoved at Dean, hoping to push him to the other side of the Impala's back seat so he would leave him alone at last. His father was driving in the front seat, playing his music quietly and very obviously lost in his own thoughts. Dean had always told him not to annoy their father when he got like that, and Sam always did his best not to but it wasn't always easy. Especially when Dean was being so annoying.

He shoved at Dean again, and received nothing but a shove and a grin in return. Sam stuck his tongue out at him, and crossed his arms as he looked at the window at the passing scenery. Sunlight warmed his skin gently and the cool breeze blowing in through the windows ruffled his hair into his eyes.

While Dean was annoying, and he wished that his father didn't look so sad all the time, Sam knew that there was nowhere else he'd rather be, with the hot sun on his skin and the road stretching out before them.

-

There was voices, floating all around him but he couldn't seem to make any sense of them. His body was buzzing strangely, throbbing in a way that would have been unpleasant if he really concentrated on it.

There was white noise surrounding him, wavering in and out and in and out...

He knew he wasn't alone. He felt it somehow, but then something was calling him, beckoning him back down into the deepest depths of sleep once more.

-

"Dean?" Sam asked hesitantly. "Where's Daddy?"

Dean looked down at him from where he was perched on the top stair.

"He's with Caleb, Sammy. You know that."

Sam shuffled his feet, kicking slightly at a small rock that lay harmlessly near his feet.

"Do you think he'll come to the meeting tonight? Miss Jackie said she's put all our paintings up on the wall and that our parents will get to see them when they come tonight."

Dean had been distracted all afternoon, and their Dad had disappeared hours ago into the public library in the town where Caleb lived. Sam knew they were hunting something bad, but he didn't see why he had to be gone all the time.

"You know he can't Sammy. But I'll come instead and look at your painting if you want."

Sam sat down on the bottom step and began to draw in the dirt with a stick as he tried not to cry. He really wanted his daddy to see his paintings. He'd worked really hard on them all week, and now he wouldn't get to see them. It wasn't fair.

"Hey Sammy, you wanna come to the park with me? We can play ball," Dean offered as he slid down to sit next to him.

Sam brightened up immediately; playing with Dean was always fun. He invented fun games to play all the time. He wondered if one day he would be as smart as Dean was. He hoped he would be.

"Okay!" he jumped to his feet at once. "Let's go!"

"Hold on a sec. I'll go and get the ball."

Dean jogged up the stairs and disappeared inside while Sam waited impatiently at the bottom of the stairs.

Well, if daddy couldn't see his paintings, then at least Dean would. And he knew Dean would like them because he always did.

-

He opened his eyes and saw nothing but darkness. A faint, green glow and a steady quiet beeping was all that greeted him. There was no one beside him, and the silence roared in his ears.

He wondered if this was what hell was like.

He closed his eyes once more, and drifted back into the comforting arms of nothingness and distant memories.

-

Sam was concentrating very hard on making his way across the top of the monkey bars. It was a very long was down, and he didn't want to fall. If he fell, then it would hurt and Dean would be scared. He knew he wasn't supposed to be climbing like this, but he'd wanted to prove that he was a big boy now.

And it was fun too. Dean was off playing ball with the other big kids, but that was okay. There were other kids around him, sliding down the slippery dip and running across the little wooden bridges and swinging on the swings. But Sam was the only one on the monkey bars because he was the only one who wasn't afraid.

"Sam? Sammy!"

He looked up and saw his father jogging towards him with a worried look in his eyes.

"Hi daddy!" Sam let go with one hand to wave at him.

His father stopped below him and looked up at him.

"What are you doing up there, Sammy? Where's Dean?"

Sam giggled and looked down at him. He was bigger than daddy. He had never been bigger than him before, and no one was bigger than his father.

"He's playing ball daddy. Look how high up I am!"

Daddy was glancing around, looking for Dean before he returned his attention to him and smiled at him.

"It's very high up. Maybe you should come down now," he suggested, staying directly below him in case he fell.

But Sam wouldn't fall. He loved climbing the monkey bars, even though he knew it worried both Dean and daddy. He wouldn't fall because he was the king monkey, and monkey's never fell when they climbed.

"I'm almost across now, daddy. I won't fall."

"Oh yeah? And why's that?"

"Because I'm a monkey! And monkey's don't fall." Sam proclaimed as he reached the last bar. Carefully, he hooked his legs around the last bar and let go, so he was hanging upside down. Daddy looked funny upside down.

He heard his fathers swift intake of breath when he swung down and he giggled. Silly daddy. Monkeys didn't fall, and Sam was the best monkey of them all.

"Really? Well, its time for all monkeys to go inside for the night. It's time for the monkey's bath." Daddy said.

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Bath? No bath daddy! I'm not dirty."

"I think you are. Wanna know why?" Daddy said and he carefully lifted him down and set him on his feet.

"Why Daddy?"

"Because the best monkeys are the ones who get the most dirtiest. And you're the best monkey of them all, aren't you?" Daddy crouched down so they could look at each other in the face.

"Well yeah. But that's silly, Daddy," he announced. "The best monkeys don't get dirty cos they're so good."

Daddy smiled then, and Sam smiled back. Daddy never usually smiled like that because he was always so busy with hunting, and because he was sad and missing Mommy.

"That's true. But you do need a bath Sammy, and then its dinner time and bed. If you're real good for me and Dean, I'll read you a story tonight."

"Dean too?" Sam asked hopefully. "Dean likes stories too."

Daddy smiled again. "Yes, Dean too. We'll all read a story together. What do ya say, Champ? Ready for that bath now?"

"Mmmmm...okay. But you have to catch me first!"

Sam laughed and tore away across the grassy field, with Daddy's laughter following him. All of a sudden, he was scooped up into the air with Daddy's strong arms holding him firmly. He was swung through the air and he shrieked and laughed as Daddy set him on his shoulders and grasped his ankles.

"Now, why don't we go find Dean and get out of here?" Daddy's deep voice vibrated through Sam's legs where they rested against Daddy's chest, and Sam giggled.

"Okay. Is he gonna get in trouble, Daddy? He didn't do his weapons practice with Caleb like he said he would. Are you gonna yell at him?"

"Not today, kiddo. We'll just make him work harder tomorrow, won't we?"

Sam laughed and stretched his arms into the sky. Daddy always told the best stories. And if that meant that he had to have a bath and endure Caleb's silly jokes, then that was okay.

In case anybody didn't pick up on it, everything in italics is Sam's flashbacks while he's asleep. And I'm not sure if everybody calls them monkey bars over in America and all that, but that's what we call them here in Australia. They're those things you swing across to get to the platform at the other side. Me and my brothers used to climb across the top when we were little. Uh…yeah, another useless fact you didn't need to know…..

I'm off to work on the next chapter now….