A/N: I couldn't wait to post this second chapter, having already written it. Keep those reviews coming! They inspire me to keep writing.

Also, I own nothing. Except everyone who's not part of the show.

Chapter 2

The first sensation that eventually returned to Dean Winchester was sound. The sounds of slow but peaceful beeps, murmured voices. Words he couldn't distinguish for the life of him, not at the moment, but the voices - whatever they were saying - were soft, quiet. Comforting. At least that meant, he would suppose in hindsight, he wasn't dead. Not yet, anyways.

Soon, the sounds melted away to allow the feeling of touch to come back. He could hear the voices, as mysterious as they were, and he could feel something touching him. Cool, and small. A hand, maybe?

The voice continued mumbling it's incoherent speech, before it and the coolness faded away, leaving him in thick silence again.

The silence dragged on before the whispers came back. The words still indistinguishable but the tone deeper, the voice heavier than the previous one. There was no touch, but the voice - the whispers, whatever they were - wouldn't stop. As the sounds repeated, like it was on a loop, Dean found himself becoming more aware, more focused on that voice.

What was it saying? Ean? En? Dee?

He really didn't know but he could feel again. And what he felt was pain. A lot of it. Stiffness, soreness, sharpness. Whatever it was, there was a lot of it.

Finally, Dean managed to crack open his eyes, only to be blinded by white light. Harsh light that did not allow him the luxury of seeing. It forced him to close his eyes again, but the voice - that low, heavy voice was coming through clearer now.

"De..een...open... eyes..."

Was that voice calling him? Asking him to wake up?

Oh, but he was tired, and sore, and opening them took entirely too much effort. But the voice wouldn't stop, quietly urging him to try. Finally, his eyes fluttered open slowly, bit by bit until the harsh lightening softened. Eventually, slowly, his sight became focused and he found himself staring at a tiled ceiling.

Ceiling? What?

"Dean?"

That voice again, the one who had been calling to him. Blinking slowly, so slowly, he turned his direction to the owner. Floppy brown hair desperately in need of a haircut. Deep brown eyes. Too young to be his dad, definitely to young to be his dad.

"...Sam?" He tried voicing. His voice cracked, throat dry and sore due to neglect of fluids.

His kid brother. Well, not so much anymore. At 19, Sam Winchester was definitely not a kid. Standing at 6"4, Sam Winchester had definitely grown into his adult body, the muscle and strength to go right along with it.

"Yeah, it's me." He scooted closer, clearly having folded himself into a chair, and peered at Dean with his brown eyes. Dean noticed Sam had kept his voice low, and would thank him later. Now that sounds were clearer, the pain all over his body seemed to intensify too. Especially his head.

"What's... where am I?" God, he had never felt so disoriented in his life. Sure, he had definitely had his share of a few rough nights that involved alcohol and they had each ended in a horrible hangover. But this feeling? This sensation was ten times worse.

"The hospital," he explained, licking his dry lips, wondering just how much he should tell his older brother. The last thing he wanted was to alarm Dean, or make the guy panic. "You were in a car accident."

"Accident?" Dean repeated, squinting at Sam. But that made no sense. He had been at the movies, watching some stupid action movie. Cars. That's what was in the movie, that he had wanted to see.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed with a nod. Sparing a look behind him, Sam paused as he squirmed a little to see if he could see either of his parents. They should've been the ones to update Dean. Then again, they had asked him to stay with Dean for the moment, so really, he supposed that he could do that little job. "You and Kelsey were coming home, and you got rear-ended by one of those big trucks. You know, the kind that make deliveries?"

Dean frowned a little as he tried to remember this. It was snowing, yeah, he remembered that. The snow and the cold. God, he still felt cold, all the way to his bones. Was that even possible?

The snow, and the cold. The movies. Kelsey bouncing in her seat, wanting the warmth to come. He had made fun of her, teased her. Dean remembered that much. And he remembered stopping at the intersection, waiting for the light to turn green.

The harder Dean focused on the events leading up to the collision, the more the pain in his head intensified. And right now, he had two immediate thoughts. Flicking his attention back to his brother, he had to ask.

"Kelsey? My car?"

Sam flinched a little. He really couldn't help it. Sam quickly spared another glance back to the doorway and then back to Dean.

"Your car... well... it's not too good." Sam waved off the details, figuring it would be much to difficult to get into right now. Dean was barely staying awake and focused as it was. "Kelsey, on the other hand... Mom and Dad are with her right now."

"She...okay?"

Sam let out a shaky sigh and licked his lips again. "I don't know yet."

Mary Winchester sighed and reclined back into the cheap, hard covered chair beside the bed, and risked a glance at her husband. Tall, dark haired and with a stormy look on his face, she could tell he was thinking the same thing she was: they were definitely in for some hard times.

Beside her, laying on the bed, was Kelsey. Currently, asleep (or rather, how she looked), with a tube down her throat to help her breathe. Small cuts and scrapes littered her pale face, with a rather large and angry looking gash above her left eyebrow. Her red hair was tangled and mussed, and there was no indication the girl would be waking up soon. Hopefully, it wouldn't be a permanent sleep.

"What did the police say?" she asked quietly, her fluty voice breaking the thick silence.

John turned his attention to his wife, and huffed. "The truck hit black ice, couldn't correct it in time. There was no avoiding it, they said." Moving from where he had been leaning against the window, he paused in front of Mary to kneel down before her. He could feel her gaze following, and then finally settling on him "The car's practically a write-off."

Running a shaking hand through her blond locks, Mary gulped and nodded. That was just what they needed on top of everything else - Dean's 'baby' being beyond repair.

"Hey, Mary, we'll fix it." John promised quietly. Reaching over, he took her smaller hands in his and nodded. "I'll get it looking like it's brand new."

Her lips twitched with a hint of a smile before shifting her eyes back over to the female in the bed and motioning with her head. "What about her? Or Dean?"

She didn't want to ask, didn't want to even entertain the thought. But she couldn't help herself, couldn't help the words that tumbled out of her mouth. She couldn't stop the tears that crept up and fogged her sight, her voice from cracking with emotion. "What if they can't be fixed?"

John's eyes darkened a bit and he lifted her hands up to his mouth and gently kissed them. The week-old scruff around his jaw tickled the soft skin.

"They'll be just fine, Mary. You know they will." Pushing up on his toes, he kissed his wife slowly, comfortingly. "I'll go check on Dean, and bring you some coffee."

Mary nodded slowly, and watched her husband disappear from the room. John's right, she reminded herself. They'll be okay. Just have some faith. After all, the angels are watching over them.

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