If only that peace had lasted. Sam and Dean had been talking, thinking things through and discussing them like adults are supposed to. Bobby would be so proud. If he was here. Last Dean heard he was still at home waiting on the rest of the rare herbs he needed. He'd tried to assure Dean previously it wouldn't be long, but now it was apparent three days later it was going to take time. More than maybe Sam had.

They'd started again, the damn visions. This time it was worse than the last. They were laughing at some movie on tv, everything was fine, then the machines started screaming and Dean looked over to see Sam seizing madly. He didn't think it could get much worse, but it did. When it stopped, he stopped breathing. Dean felt the blood drain from his face and he went cold as the trauma team rushed in.

It was a flurry of activity as they worked on his brother. He nearly threw up when he heard his heart had stopped and they were having trouble starting it again. A doctor kept telling him he needed to leave, but he was numbly frozen to the spot, stupidly blinking as he couldn't make out the words. He was in a fog, only one thing made it through. Sam.

He vaguely felt a hand on his arm, tugging. He resisted. He wasn't going anywhere. It pulled again, harder, accompanied by a voice. He knew it, didn't he? Someone familiar... It tugged him from the room. He turned to take a swing at it. He found himself in the hall facing the owner of that voice - Jack.

"They need room to work, Dean. It'll be okay. We'll wait right here, alright?"

Dimly he was aware of wetness streaming down his face and the concern on Jack's, looming next to him.

"Sam" The name like a prayer, soft and broken falling from his lips. Jack grimaced in sympathy.

Dr. Richards ran by, eyes catching the scene in the hall, but having no time to stop. He rushed into his patients room, barking orders and demanding an update.

Still no response, Sammy was dying. His little brother was leaving him. All awareness of the surroundings left him as he slid down the wall.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

It was moments, hours, who knew how long before he came back to himself. He was laying on a couch in an office by the look of it. Jack sat nearby, peering at him with a furrowed brow.

"Dean, you with us man?"

"Wha..?" It all came back to him in a rush and he snapped straight. "Sam!"

Jack and the now present Dr. Richards held him still. "Hang on Dean. Don't get up. You went into shock. Just rest a minute."

He looked at them as though they were insane. "How is Sam?" Nothing would put him at rest until he knew his brother was okay.

The doctor sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I think we should wait until you-"

"No!" Dean yelled, afraid. Why wouldn't they tell him? "How's Sam?" He demanded again.

Dr. Richards sat across from him in a chair he pulled up from a table. They were in some kind of lounge. "Sam is stable."

Dean closed his eyes in relief. Alive. Stable. When he opened them his gut clenched in fear. The doctor's face far from relieved. Something was wrong. "But?" He rasped.

"This one was bad Dean. Another Grand Mal. It knocked his whole system out of whack. He stopped breathing only to have his heart stop when we got his lungs going again. I won't sugar coat it, it was very touch and go. We did get everything functioning again, but he's fallen back into a coma."

Dean felt his axis tilt. Oh God. The doctor answered his unspoken question. "We don't know the extent of the damage or if and when he'll wake up." Dean couldn't breathe.

Seeing the young man's devastated face, the man said softly, "I'm sorry. We've done all we can. It's up to him now."

No. It was up to him. He darted from the couch and ran to call Bobby.

"Dean!" Jack shouted after him, attempting to follow. He lost him and soon was outside, sobbing and rubbing furiously at his blurry eyes as he tried to see his phone. "Can't lose it. Gotta help Sammy." He chanted over and over.

When Bobby picked up, Dean's voice sounded like ground glass. "Bobby," Immediately Bobby knew something had happened and felt a trill of fear. "What happened?"

"Sammy. He... it's bad Bobby, real bad." Dean was struggling to get a grip.

Bobby's calm voice drifted to him through the line. He felt anything but, but he had to keep it strong for these boys. "Tell me what happened." He coaxed.

Feeling a small comfort from the warm voice of his old friend, he told him what had happened and what the doctor had said.

Bobby was silent for a moment, absorbing. "Damnit."

Dean snorted and felt a hysterical laugh bubble up in him. Damnit? Sam was on deaths door and all he can say is damnit?

Sensing Dean's fragile state, he called him back to earth. "You listen to me boy. You have to stay sharp alright? You aren't going to do your brother or yourself any favors if you fall apart. We're going to help him."

Dean sucked in a breath, held it, then let it out closing his eyes. "Yeah. But Bobby, the herbs-"

"Are coming. I heard from my friend and it's on it's way. I was worried it was getting close, so it'll come straight to you."

"To the hospital?"

"Yes. Care of Jack. They shouldn't have a problem with him getting a package. Just ask him to sign for it."

"What do I tell him?"

"Whatever you have to. He's been a friend to you both. He'll want to help."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." He ran a hand through his short spikes. "What about you?"

"I'm coming too. I'm already on the road. We'll launch into the spell as soon as we can. He'll be fine. After all, he's a Winchester. You all are stubborn bastards. He won't give up."

Dean let out a wet chuckle. "That's Sammy all over."

"Damn straight. Now you get ready for my arrival, okay? We'll have to work fast once this is all set in motion. We only get one shot. There can be no mistakes or interruptions."

"Right. Thanks Bobby. For everything. I don't know what I'd would have done if-"

"Shut up, ya idjit. You two are family." Dean smiled faintly. "See you soon."

"Yeah." Dean snapped his phone shut. He leaned his head back to look at the sky. Stars twinkled and the warm air was still. He thought of Sam lying still in his bed and all at once he was ready to lose it again. A hand on his shoulder startled him, he spun around.

Jack held up his hands, backing off. "Sorry. I was worried, came to check on you." Dean said nothing as he met Jack's gaze. "You alright?"

Dean raised a brow, clearly saying "Are you seriously asking that?"

He shook his head. "Stupid question. What I meant is, how are you holding up? Not going into shock again are you? Because last time you passed out it took two of us to carry your ass to the employee lounge." He tried for levity, knowing Dean wouldn't stand coddling. He still couldn't believe it. A few days ago he'd heard Sam went outside and when he'd come up to congratulate him, he'd seemed to be doing so much better. His eyes grew sad. Like Tim. Damnit, it wasn't fair.

"So that's where I ended up." Dean snarked. "Well thanks for not leaving me spread out cold on the floor."

The corner of Jack's mouth ticked up. "Anytime." He lost his relaxed posture and resumed his concerned expression, continuing with caution. "I'm sorry about Sam. Is there anything I can do?"

Dean looked off into the night, pensive, then back. "Yea. There's a package coming for me in your name. When it gets here, sign for it and bring it straight to me, would ya?"

Jack frowned. "A package?" Why was it coming, how was it important? This was so odd he had to ask, "What is it?"

Dean shook his head. "It's important. Very. Let's leave it at that for the moment."

He hesitated, but nodded. "You got it." He knew Dean was hurting and as strange as this request was, he'd help if he could. He considered the brothers friends now.

Dean nodded back. "Thanks." He shifted his feet. "I need to check on Sam. Am I allowed in?"

"Of course man. You can go up right now. He's stable, so everyone is out of the room. The nurses will be checking in on him throughout the night." He shifted, feeling he knew the answer but obligated to ask. "You want me to go with you?"

Dean smiled wanly. "Nah. I'll be fine. I'm okay now."

They both knew he was lying, but Jack didn't call him on it. "'Kay. I'll be around later, if you don't mind me stopping by?" It was a trying time, he wouldn't force his company on Dean. No matter how much he felt the other man needed it. He'd have to ask the nurses to check on him too. If Dr. Richards hadn't already done so.

"It's cool." Dean acquiesced.

He nodded. "Cya then."

With that he left Dean alone. He walked slowly but with purpose up to Sam's room. As much as he wanted to see Sam, he also didn't. He was afraid of what he'd find behind that door. He had cause to be. Sam looked terrible and hooked up to even more wires and machines. A nurse who later came in explained one was to monitor Sam's readouts to try and detect the onslaught of another episode. A drug would then quickly be administered to stop it's onset.

He merely nodded, thinking that it probably wouldn't help, but feeling desperate enough to not say so. How would he explain it anyway? My brother's psychic mojo is killing him?

He sat quietly holding his hand - chick flick again, Sam would laugh at him for the habit he was developing - and talked softly to him. About anything and nothing. Begging him to hold on. Promising help was on it's way. Telling stories about when they were kids. Playing hide n seek, bedtime stories, and Sam's first word, "Dean." He'd been so proud. Beaming up at his big brother. Dean had grinned back.

Teasing, prank wars, first dates. So many happy memories. They had to hang on to those. They were worth fighting for. "We can make more Sam." He told him. "Just wake up. Please, Sammy."

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

He didn't wake. Dean sat for hours just as he had before, keeping vigil to the same result. Each passing minute he became more desperate. Instinctively he knew time was running out. They had to sever this link. The sooner the better.

Bobby had called to say he'd be there by nightfall. He'd asked about the box. It should have been there by now. Dean felt sick. No. It didn't come. Airmail. He'd call his friend to check, Bobby assured him. Probably beat him there. Dean sure hoped so. With each hour that passed Sam looked even worse. Like his life was eeking from him a little at a time. Drawn, pale as his sheets almost, chilled to the touch. When Dr. Richards had come in this morning to check on Sam, his expression grim, he knew what the man would say.

"I'm sorry. He's so weak, problems compounded on one another. His youth and strength are factors in his favor, but... I can't give you false hope. He's rapidly deteriorating and at this rate - The machines can only do so much. It doesn't look good. I wish I had better news." And he truly had. These boys had grown on him and his staff. A bond so rare and strong. They'd all been pulling for them. The news was devastating to the group, but none more than the older sibling. He seemed to swing between periods of being lost, to hopeful, to urgent, anger and back again. The doctor worried for his well being.

Jack was too. He'd stopped in during his break and after his shift to check on the brothers. Dean wasn't much in the mood for chatting today. Maybe never again he feared. So he sat quietly keeping both company. It was his last shift for a while. He'd taken some vacation time to be there if he was needed and so he'd be available as soon as this mystery box arrived. Dean made it clear this was very special, whatever it was. Which was why he constantly kept going downstairs to check for it.

The girl in the office was ready to bludgeon him if he didn't stop hovering. The last time he asked she'd finally snapped, "No, it isn't here, so stop asking! When it comes I'll send for you."

Sufficiently chastised, he'd slinked off back to the room. Dean hadn't moved, barely acknowledged his presence. It tore Jack up to see it because he'd seen this all before. His efforts to help, his reason for becoming an EMT, all felt like it was for nothing as he watched both brothers slipping away. And here he was, helpless yet again. He sat in his chair, twitched, shifted, but finally he had to get up or he'd go insane. The weight of despair in the room was crushing. He just needed a few moments of air.

"Hey Dean, I'm gonna run downstairs. I'll be back soon. It's nearly dinner time. How about I bring something up for us? You haven't eaten all day."

Dean tried to give his friend a reassuring smile, but fell horribly flat. "Nah. Not really hungry." His voice was raspy from hours of alternating talking to long stretches of silence."

"Dean-" Jack started.

"No." Dean cut him off sharply. There must have been an expression on his face because Dean added, "No, thanks. I just...I'm not hungry." I can't eat while Sam lays like this.

Taking the denial for what it was, Jack reluctantly nodded and went out the door. In the hall he took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. What should he do? He had no idea how to help his friend who was falling apart. If he loses Sam... He hoped this package coming had a miracle inside and it better come soon. They needed one.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Bobby was stiff but held his stride as he walked the hall back to Sam's room. He was afraid of what he'd find and prayed he wasn't too late. When Dean had called with the doctors update, his heart had jumped in his throat. Already near dangerously breaking the speed limit, he'd floored the gas.

He shifted the bag on his shoulder. It contained what he hoped would reverse Sam's condition, save one ingredient. One that better be waiting in the room up ahead. They had to get started if Sam was to survive the night.

He knocked briefly and walked in. Dean turned and visibly sagged with relief upon seeing him. "Bobby." He rose to hug the man, momentarily catching him off guard, but swiftly returning it.

"It's alright kid. We'll fix it. Did it come?"

Dean shook his head, eyes weary. "No."

Bobby swore under his breath. "We can't worry about it now. Dusty said it would be here and it will. We have to get everything else ready because as soon as it gets here, we do this." Bobby wished he was as certain as he wanted Dean to think.

They had only one chance, it had to go perfectly. If they were lucky Sam would be well by morning. If not... that was something he wasn't willing to think about. "Alright, let's get busy. I have all the other supplies here. Candles, herbs, paint, spell book and all the rest. It's heavy stuff, heck of a tall order. I'll set up the mixes, you work on painting the sigils around Sam on the floor. And lock that door. We don't want anyone coming in here."

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Jack was debating whether or not to get dinner for them anyway, after all Dean was starving himself damnit, or if he should back off and wait to make his stand at breakfast tomorrow. He'd only past the mail room when Tina ran out after him.

"Jack! Wait up, it's here." She put a hand on his arm. "That package you were waiting on, it just hit my desk."

He stopped and stared, then shaking himself asked, "Where is it?"

She went into the room, returning to the hall with a small box and clip board. "Sign here."

Jack hurriedly scrawled on the pages and nearly ran off with the box. She called after him. "Must be awfully important."

"Yes," He tossed over his shoulder, never stopping. "it is."

He still didn't know why, but he knew Dean had been anxiously waiting for it. Anything to lift his spirits was a big deal. He didn't wait for the elevator, dashing up the stairs instead. He didn't understand the urgency coursing through him, he only knew he needed to get this in Dean's hands. Right away.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Dean looked up from the sigil he was drawing as Sam groaned and began to thrash. Shit!

Bobby had also stopped working, but returned to it as he said firmly to Dean, "Stay put. There's nothing more you can do for him but finish painting that."

The young man stopped on his way to assist his brother. "But-"

The older man hated the agony on the siblings face, but it had to be this way. "We have to get this in motion, you see what's happening. It's the start of another vision. If one of those Grand Mals happens it's the end of him."

"But we don't even have all the stuff." Dean was torn. He wanted to go to Sam, he also knew Bobby was right. But without all the ingredients they couldn't even begin the spell.

Bobby was unsure how to answer when a knock came followed by the rattling of the knob. "Dean." It was Jack.

Dean and Bobby exchanged a look. "Can't let him see this, send him off."

"Why's the door locked?" Jack asked.

"Sorry man, but I feel beat and Sam... I want to be alone. Go away,' kay."

"But I-"

Dean was afraid Jack was drawing attention to the room, he had to go. "Leave!" He snapped.

Jack stood on the other side of the door confused. Something didn't feel right. Why was he being so brash all the sudden? Undeterred, he continued. "The box is here. I have it in my hands. Are you gonna let me in?"

Dean was up and at the door before he'd finished speaking. He opened it wide enough to accept the box. "Um. Sorry. I'm having a moment right now. Thanks for bringing it up."

He reached for it, but Jack held it back, brow arched in disbelief. "That's it? All the fuss over this and I can't even come in? I signed for it and I don't even get to find out what's in it?" He was a little hurt and a little annoyed. He thought they'd become friends, he wasn't treating him as one presently.

Dean was also annoyed and growing more anxious. They didn't have time for this. "Our friendship doesn't mean you get to nib in our business!"

Jack blinked and Dean instantly felt like an ass. The guy had been nothing but supportive to them and he goes and calls him a nib shit. This just wasn't the time. He didn't have time to take it back. To explain.

Jack stood straighter and his eyes showed his displeasure and hurt. "So that's what you think of me? I thought I was doing you a favor. The least I deserve is an-"

A loud moan from the bed cut him off. Both men looked toward the sound and Jack using the distraction pushed past Dean a few steps into the room. "Oh my God," He gasped taking in all he could see. A writhing, suffering Sam; strange drawings, bowls of dry herbs and candles were set up about the room. His stomach dropped.

"Sonofabitch." Dean growled as he yanked the man the rest of the way in, closing the door.

Jack's eyes were wide, he'd momentarily forgot to speak, to react, to run. Yes. Running sounded like a good idea. He stumbled backward, trying to backtrack to the door. Dean grabbed his arm and he jerked as if burned. "Don't touch me!"

Dean growled once more and ran a hand through his hair. "Damnit, we don't have time for this." He looked imploringly at the frightened man. "Look, whatever you're thinking it's not what it looks like."

Jack shook his head. "You don't want to know what I think." Eyes never leaving the scene or men in front of him, he backed up again.

Bobby silently moved behind him to the door. If the guy went to run for it, he'd not get far.

"Please. You know me."

"No, clearly I don't. You're crazy." What are you doing talking to a psychopath? He asked himself. Just turn and run. Yell for help.

"Come on Jack. We can't do this now. I promise to explain it all later if you want, but we have to have that box and do this if we're gonna save Sam."

A crazed laugh broke from Jack as he looked at his friends earnest face. "Right. Like all this will help him. As if what's in here is magic." Bobby and Dean exchanged a glance and Jack looked incredulously between them. "You're serious? Magic? You think you're doing some magic spell to save him? You're crazier than I thought."

"Look, believe us or don't, but freak out later 'cause there ain't time for it." Dean ground out.

Jack looked wearily between them. The older one had cut off his escape route. If he shouted or tried to run, would they hurt him? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Dean saw the struggle going on in Jack and let out a sigh as he sadly met his gaze. "Maybe you are right. Maybe we're nuts. But what if we aren't? You see him." Jack slid his gaze to Sam's pale, sweaty form. His breaths short and frantic. "He's going to die anyway, so what harm is there in letting us try?"

Jack wavered and Dean confessed, "There's a lot more going on here than you know, man. Let us do this. Please." He begged, green eyes moist. "He's my family. He's all I've got."

Jack ran a trembling hand through his dark hair and swallowed. "There's no blood involved in this right?" His voice trembled as much as his hands.

Bobby snorted. "Civilians."

Jack looked at him as Dean smiled, relieved. He was going to cooperate. "Not all the big ones take blood, boy." With that Bobby walked past Jack, taking the box from him and deftly opening it to sprinkle the contents in a small silver bowl.

He stood watching in wonder. "I must be out of my mind taking part in this."

Dean smirked. "Join the club." All kidding fell aside as he spoke in a serious tone. "This is a one shot deal. Everything has to be to the letter. If we screw up it won't work." It may not work at all. He thought to himself, the quashed his doubts. "We can't be interrupted. No one in or out. No talking or distractions of any kind. I need you to do that for us. Got it?"

Jack, unable to find his voice under the weight of the other man's stare simply nodded. They may be crazy, but they really believed all this. He looked at Sam. And if there was a chance, no matter how off the wall, could he blame them for taking it? He'd seen a lot of desperate things people would do for family. Even more crazy, he found himself waiting and hoping it did. These people had gotten to him in a way he never thought possible.

And his version of possible was about to be rearranged. Dean was tense as Bobby began speaking. Mixing the contents of the bowl he threw in a handful of powder and sparks shot white hot into the air. He spoke a clear and steady chant, a rhythm that only built in strength and pitch as he went on. A wind kicked up and Jack nearly sank to the floor in shock as he watched a light begin to glow within Sam.

The wind whipped louder now, nearly drowning out Bobby's words. It circled in a current around Sam's bed and the glow expanded. The air warmed as if some force or presence was alive in the wind howling around the young man. His mouth fell open and tufts of brilliant golden light flittered out, seemingly enveloped by the spinning mass of air around them.

The air began to change color. The spinning strands of yellow light turning a light blue. Then a bright white. The essence flowed down once again into Sam's mouth and spread throughout his whole body. Bobby's voice began to trail off as the wind and glow tapered, till both faded completely, leaving the room still.

They all stayed motionless, not daring to breathe. All eyes fixated on the man in the bed. Moments passed. Nothing. Dean looked crushed, shrinking down as shoulders sagged in grief. Jack and Bobby looked on with pity.

"Dean." Jack attempted comfort. The brother was despondent.

"Dn?"

All eyes shot up again toward the younger brother's bed, where a soft voice again called for his big brother. "Dn?"

Dean's smile could have split his face as he strode to his brother's side. "Sammy."

Hazel eyes blinked open hazily. "Wha happn?" Still dazed, Sam fought to pronounce each word.

Relieved laughter met the question. "I'll tell you all about it later." Dean said softly.

"'Kay." Sam mumbled and drifted into the first peaceful sleep he'd had in weeks.

Author's Note: I was iffy on the spell, but I think it turned out okay. Yes, the color yellow was chosen for a reason to be what came from Sam. And thanks so much for the reviews! It means a lot to me. Being my frist LS and multi-chapter fiction.