Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Sam or, no, not even Dean which makes me want to cry. If I did own them, they would still get along and not just tolerate one another. Plus, Dean may or may not be tied to my bed...so this is obviously set before the whole "Sam's gotta be growed up and evilified and we gotta make sure we break Dean into a million pieces inside" stuff.

WARNINGS!: **Mature readers only** Some language, blood, if you don't see a warning for it chances are you don't need one.

He was curled in a ball, muscles stiff, jaw clenched tight. He still was not breathing and I wondered if he were having a seizure brought on by the trauma to his vital organs. I did the only thing I could think of.

I slapped his face.

I hated myself for doing it, even after he took a shuddering, gasping breath. Hitting an injured man just violated every fibre of my being. He had taken a breath, though. He was still alive.

My relief was short-lived.

He started to cough as soon as he had air. It was a harsh, wet, broken sound. Each brutal expulsion was followed by a desperate, sobbing gasp for air. I could hear the fluid rattling in his chest even before the blood started draining from his mouth again to pool with what had spilled at the beginning of this ordeal.

He had felt a couple of twinges an hour or two before and had not thought much of it. Life on the road leads to some interesting eateries. When the stabbing pain came, we knew he was in trouble. When he doubled over in agony and we had to help him onto the bed, Sam had grabbed the keys and headed for the Impala. He closed the door behind himself just in time to miss Dean vomiting blood. I had been thankful for that, Sam was already too frantic to be driving. There had been no alternative, though. I just hoped the morning would find them both still alive.

Now, no amount of vomiting would help him. He was drowning in his own blood. I wondered if Sam had found the priest, if he was at that moment trying to drag his secrets out of him somehow. I wondered if he were maybe still looking, unaware of his brother's serious distress.

Dean tried to draw a breath and gurgled, lungs so full he could get almost no air at all.

My stomach twisted in panic. He opened his eyes and looked into mine and all I saw was exhaustion and resignation. It was like a knife in my heart and I could not let that look linger in his eyes.

Not when I could save him, not even when I realized I would never be able to look at myself in the mirror again. I could save him, at least temporarily, but I would hate myself for the rest of my life for doing it.

I rolled him as far forward as I could, leaning his body over the edge of the bed. I tried to angle him without hurting him, hoping at least some of the blood would drain from his abused lungs before I did what I had to do next.

I could not break the curse without Sam's help, but I could heal him of the damage he had taken so far. He would start over at square one, giving Sam an extra bit of time in which to hunt this bastard.

Dean gasped for air, gagged as blood drained out his mouth and nose. He was shaking and in so much pain I had to stand and lift him back onto the bed. He had no strength to help.

He sounded a little better, his chest still rattled ominously with each breath. His eyes slid closed.

"Fuck." he wheezed. The first word he had uttered since the pain had taken his breath away.

"Dean, I need you to look at me please." He grunted and turned his head toward me, but those brilliant green eyes stayed locked behind heavy lids.

He was pale as death, his freckles standing in sharp contrast to his bloodless face.

"Dean, please, open your eyes for me." I tried more firmly. "Don't make me slap you again." I cringed at the words leaving my mouth, but I did not have time to be gentle. Not if I was going to try to save him. My reluctance to engage in the healing ritual had already nearly cost his life. Now that I had decided to follow through with it, I wanted to have it done and behind me as quickly as possible.

My harsh words had the desired effect. His lids fluttered open with a staggering effort on his part. I could see his body tense, as if it took every muscle just to shove his lids open. It took an extra minute for his eyes to focus and find me. Our eyes met finally and I let him see the remorse in mine for being so harsh. The corners of his mouth twitched.

He was trying to smile at me.

"I need you to listen and really hear what I am saying." He nodded. "I can't break the curse, but I can heal the damage and take away your pain in the process, at least temporarily." His eyes widened as he tried to drag in enough air for questions. "No time to explain, but I need you to know my methods are...unusual. And it is not by my choice. I need for you to trust me right now and I will answer questions after we break this damn curse."

I dropped all my masks and protective walls, let my eyes show him my sincerity, my desire to heal him, to take away his suffering the only way I knew how.

Whether he saw something that reassured him or he was just desperate to end the pain, I did not know, but he dropped his barriers too and all I saw in his eyes was a plea.

Help me.