Those of you who are reviewing- thank you so much! I know the beginning of this story wasn't the most exciting (there was a lot of set-up), but I think it starts to pick up here. Anyway, I worry about whether or not people will like this story, so the reviews mean A LOT to me. Thank you.

Ok- chapter 4! This one is all Sam's point of view, but then so was the last one now that I think about it…oh well. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Lost

Beep…beep…beep…Sam arose to consciousness very gradually, led by the soft beeping that interrupted the constant sound of a nearby air conditioner. He felt dull, a thick pain in his head preventing any deep thought. Slowly, Sam opened his eyes and was greeted with white. A white ceiling stood above him with a large coffee colored stain marring the homogeneous pattern. He turned his head to the right, in an effort to determine the source of the beeping. His head was hot and Sam realized that there was a bandage around it. The bandage clung to him uncomfortably, making his head itch and pointing out his greasy, sweat filled hair.

To the right of his head, Sam saw a metal pole that presumably led up to the thing that was beeping. Following the pole with his eyes, Sam saw the heart monitor, and instantly became aware of all eight square pads that had been stuck to his body. He attempted to feel the pads, which brought him to yet two more realizations; one, his arms were stuck under the sheets, and two, his left leg was weighed down. Using his right foot, Sam felt around his left leg and determined it to be in a splint. And then the pain hit…his ankle was throbbing.

Sam racked his brain attempting to cut off attention to the pain in order to focus his limited thinking ability on how he had ended up in what was clearly a hospital room. The first question was where was he? He considered that, but memories of hundreds of different towns and hunts flitted through his brain and the answer seemed unreachable. The next question was where was Dean? Dad wouldn't be there, his brain was that up to date, but Dean should…Sam gasped as unsequenced memories from the past two days assaulted him. Desperately, he tried to make sense of the jumbled thoughts...He definitely had been hunting solo. Other than that, what was real, what was a dream, what had actually happened, he couldn't tell.

Nausea broke into Sam's thoughts and his brief moment of semi-lucidity was overtaken by the pain in his ankle. The beeping grew more frequent and Sam's vision darkened. He heard rushed footsteps, followed by nearby voices, none of which he could understand. The voices grew louder and Sam could tell that people were arguing. A sharp pain hit his ankle and gradually, a numbness spread through the ankle allowing Sam to resume his normal breathing pattern. The blackened edges of his vision slowly receded and his ability to think resumed. A tugging thought of 'Dean is dead' repeated constantly, not allowing Sam to ignore it. Upon further examination of the thought, the memories of last night came flooding back, in sequence, although what had happened after his hand left Dean's pulseless neck was blank.

Feeling his shoulder shaken, Sam looked up into the face of a young, African American nurse. He saw her lips moving, but no sound seemed to register. Even the hum of the air conditioner and the interrupting beeps were gone. Sam's own voice was the only thing he could hear, 'Dean is dead'. The nurse looked up, speaking to someone else in the room and then left. Sam looked around and realized he was once again alone. The hum and beeps came back.

Was Dean dead? Unwilling to accept an affirmative answer, Sam began backtracking through his memories. There was something that was off, a voice screaming at him in the background, muffled by the 'Dean is dead'. Sam concentrated and finally the voice broke through. Ironically it was Dean's voice, telling him, 'keep reminding yourself that whatever you see isn't real'. Hope made an attempt to fill his soul, but Sam held it in check for fear of being destroyed if the hope didn't pan out. He needed to know now if Dean was actually dead or if it had been a hallucination.

Sam's eyes scanned the room before coming to rest on the table next to his bed. There was the phone. He pulled his shaking hand out of the sheets and ignored the beeping, which had once again sped up, and the blackness creeping back into his vision. He had to know…now. Fumbling, Sam managed to knock the receiver off the phone and put it against his ear. His vision was almost completely dark and his hand felt detached as it shook and dialed his brother's number. The beeping was drowned out by the sound of Sam's own pulse, but a new, muted, sound of ringing entered his senses. The footsteps came back and a hand suddenly encircled the phone in an attempt to take it away. Sam immediately grabbed the phone, using all his strength to keep it next to his face. There had been several rings by now, but Sam was unaware of how many. Arguing was heard in the background and he wondered if the yelling was aimed at him or someone else. Then, "Hello?"

Sam's black vision turned bright white, his brain and body overloaded with feeling. It had been Dean's voice, but there wasn't enough awareness in Sam to be sure that he heard it and hadn't hallucinated it. "Dean?"

Sound cut through his senses again, "Sam?"

It was Dean again, this time it was definite. Dean's voice continued, mixed in with the pulse, the beeping, the humming, the arguing, and the sound of the bed creaking as it shook from the nurse's attempt to pry the phone from Sam's hand. Now knowing what he needed to, Sam allowed his body to shut off and darkness once again overtook him.

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Beep…beep…beep…once again a soft beeping gradually drew Sam to consciousness. He kept his eyes closed as he sought for a second time to retrieve his memories and make sense of his situation. He was in a hospital and he had woken up before, that he remembered. Sam tried for more; Dean had been dead…no…he had been questioning that…and once again, the previous night's memories flooded him. However, this time, those memories were mixed with the blurry memories of the phone call he made from the hospital. Had that really happened?

Slowly, Sam opened his eyes hoping that seeing the hospital room would ground him enough to determine whether the phone call had been real. Once more, Sam came face to face with the stained ceiling. He was able to think more clearly this time around as compared to the previous time. If the ceiling had been real, then it was possible that the phone call had been too.

"Sammy?"

The beeps increased and Sam felt the breath stick in his chest. It was Dean's voice. Only Dean said, 'Sammy' like that. But had it been real, or another hallucination? Fearfully, Sam turned his head to the left, immediately taking in his brother's face. Dean looked unhappy, but more specific emotions were indeterminable. Yet again, Sam's inner voice began speaking, informing Sam of his own fears, 'he's a ghost'. The voice was coupled with a muted memory coming in the form of a reminder that Dean's body had to be dealt with; he needed to be cremated.

"Sam?" Sam noticed that his brother's hand had been on his shoulder the entire time. Afraid to believe the happier explanation for Dean's presence, Sam sought out confirmation of the abysmal one.

"Are you a ghost?" Even to his own ears, he sounded like a child. His fear was unrestrained and the voice came out a high-pitched whisper. He watched his brother's face carefully, wondering if Dean was angry that Sam had shot him, not knowing why else Dean's ghost would be haunting him.

In response to the question, Sam watched his brother tense, taking in a breath. Dean leaned toward him, his eyes reflecting pain. Dean hadn't answered and Sam felt the panic rising up. Had his brother's ghost come back to enact it's deadly revenge? If he had been more aware, he would have found the panic ridiculous. What was the worst Dean could do? If Dean took his life, it wouldn't be nearly as painful as living the rest of his life having killed his brother. However, Sam's brain was running on survival mode and on instinct, he attempted to draw back into the bed, away from the ghost.

Dean's hand began rubbing Sam's arm, "Sam." Sam automatically relaxed at the touch. Dean still hadn't answered the question, but apparently, Dean was unable to say anything other than Sam's name.

Sam asked the question again, purposely pushing himself to sound louder, "Dean? Are you a ghost?"

Dean's face continued expressing pain although his mouth smiled. Still not speaking, Dean shook his head and then looked down. Sam processed this information and allowed the hope that he had been keeping at bay grow. Once again he heard the beeping speed up and blackness began to creep in. Heavily, he lifted his hand and touched the top of his brother's head, which was the part of Dean that was closest to him at the time. He pushed on his brother's skull, feeling it as one would if they were reading the bumps on a person's head. Dean's head was hard and more importantly real. The beeps became even faster as Sam accepted the fact that his brother was alive. Which of his other memories had been real, which hallucinations, was unclear, but the only thing that mattered was that Dean lived.

Sam's hand dropped limply from Dean's head as the darkness filled the remains of his vision. Footsteps were heard again as well as the nurses' voices from before. They were unclear, although loud, and Sam briefly wondered why he could never understand them. Dean's hand, which had ceased the rubbing during Sam's exploration of his head, resumed its motion. Suddenly, a new sensation of Dean's other hand stroking the top of his chest (just under his neck) greeted him as well. The touch was incredibly calming and tears filled Sam's eyes as he remembered the loss of his brother. The memory flooded him, sitting in Dean's blood, remembering how much he loved his brother…and Dean was alive. Sam found himself crying, once again too unaware to censor his feelings.

The nurses' voices increased in volume again and as suddenly as it started, the hand on his chest stopped. Dean's own voice grew loud and although Sam couldn't make out the words, he knew the tone. Dean was in protection mode. One of the nurses must have been attempting to do something that Dean disagreed with. Sam opened his eyes, finally realizing that they had been closed.

Dean stood above him, leaned over the bed, yelling at the nurses on the other side. The hand on his arm kept rubbing and Sam found himself captivated by his brother's ability to yell at a nurse and keep his arm moving at a slow relaxing pace. Dean's face exuded rage, and his touch conveyed tenderness. It was a bizarre combination and Sam was positive that only Dean Winchester could pull it off.

The beeping resumed a slow pace and the nurses visibly backed down. Clearly Dean had won the argument. Obviously annoyed by their loss, the nurses left and Sam, whose composure had been regained by the distraction, opted for a change of subject.

"They argue with each other too. Every time I wake up, they're yelling at each other…I think."

Dean looked down at Sam, hand still rubbing, the pained expression back on his face. He resumed his seat, but didn't respond to his brother.

Panic infiltrated Sam's thoughts again as his confused brain thought that perhaps Dean had found out that Sam had killed him and was angry about that. If that were the case, he had no idea how to fix that.

He watched Dean look up at the heart monitor and then make eye contact with him, "Sam? What's wrong?"

Another surge of panic passed through Sam's body, this time created by the absurdity of Dean's question. So many things were wrong.

Sam's voice seemed to find the true answer to that question without involving Sam's conscious brain, "You're not talking to me."

Sam was startled by his own answer, it was true, but he hadn't realized that he had known that that was what was wrong. Dean's face showed surprise as well, and then the sadness was back. The hand stopped rubbing and became still, "I'm sorry Sam. I didn't…I…I'm not not talking to you. Man..." Dean shook his head, "It's…I just." Sam watched his brother take in deep breaths and tears were visible. Something was bothering Dean, but he was holding back a discussion about it.

Fatigue surrounded him, and Sam found himself being lulled into sleep, still drawing comfort from his brother's hand. Before his eyes closed, he looked over at Dean, "I'm tired."

Dean nodded and Sam continued, "Dean? Be here?"

The beeping sped up again and Sam found himself sounding like a child for a second time. His eyes sank shut, but before they closed, he could have sworn he saw a tear fall down his brother's face. The hand on his arm squeezed. Sam heard Dean's voice, "I swear," and then he fell into sleep.

No cliffy this time, but hopefully you'll review anyway?