Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this and for her general awesomeness.

Chapter Three

Dean's hands fisted on the steering wheel.

Sam had been hurt. Sam was in hospital. The words didn't make sense to him. Sam was supposed to be in Kermit, chasing after his woman. What could have happened to land him in a hospital? Whatever it was, Dean was going to find out.

He pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator, and the engine rumbled. He was pushing the car to its limits, but he didn't care. His affection for the car was forgotten in that moment; it was merely a means to an end. It would get him to Sam and that was all that mattered.

When he passed through the city limits of Kermit, he pulled over at the side of the road to check the GPS on his phone. Signposts had got him that far, but he had no idea where in town the hospital was located. Typing in the address he needed, a map appeared on the screen and a blinking arrow. He checked the map once and then pulled back onto the road.

The ride to the hospital was a short one, and soon he was parking the car outside the ER. He was sure that was where Sam would be found. His mind presented him with ideas of how Sam could have been hurt, but he pushed the thoughts away. He didn't want to imagine his brother being mown down by a car or set upon by thugs.

He jogged into the almost empty ER and made his way straight to the reception desk. "I'm looking for my brother, Sam Winchester." He hoped Sam had given his real name when he was admitted; otherwise, he was going to have some explaining to do.

The receptionist was young, and she popped gum as she tapped a few keys on her computer. "I'll find someone to talk to you," she said.

"Why can't I just go to him?" Dean asked, fear creeping into his stomach, twisting his guts.

"He's not in the ER anymore," the girl said.

She stood and disappeared through a door at the back of the reception area. Dean gripped the counter and tried to calm himself. Just because Sam wasn't in the ER anymore, it didn't mean it was bad news. He could have been released already. Or—he didn't want to think it—he could have been admitted. Being admitted meant it was worse than he was imagining.

Or, a voice whispered to him, he could already be dead.

Dean pushed that thought away, making a door in his mind and slamming the voice behind it. Sam was not dead. He would know if he was. He would feel it. He knew that gut wrenching pain, as he had felt it before, in Cold Oak. An image of Sam lying supine on that dirty mattress flashed through his mind, and he slammed another mental door. He couldn't think of those things right now. He had to hold onto the present and deal with what was happening.

The receptionist came through the door followed by a young woman dressed in scrubs. The receptionist pointed at Dean and the woman in scrubs came over to him.

"I'm Doctor Benton. I worked on your brother's case."

"How is he?" Dean asked immediately.

"He's in surgery," she said.

Surgery was bad. Surgery meant Sam was bad. Dean paled and his legs wavered. Bracing himself against the counter he forced himself to calm down.

"What happened to him?" he asked. The question felt important. As if by knowing what had happened to Sam he could help him better. When in truth,. tThere was nothing he could do.

"He was involved in a shooting."

"He was shot! Someone shot my brother!"

The doctor nodded somberly. "I'm afraid so."

Dean's hands fisted on the counter. Someone had shot Sam. Someone had dared to hurt him. Dean was going to track them down and kill them.

"I can take you to the surgical waiting room," the doctor offered.

Dean nodded and allowed himself to be led through the door. They traipsed through long halls and travelled up to the second floor in an elevator. The further they travelled, the greater Dean's trepidation was. He was scared of what was going to happen when they got to their destination, what news would greet him there.

They finally came to a stop outside a plain brown door with a sign saying 'Family Room'. Dean pushed open the door and stepped inside. There was a woman already in there. She was sitting on one of the plush chairs with her arms wrapped around her stomach, and her head bowed. She looked up as Dean came into the room, and he saw her face was streaked with tears.

He nodded to her, forgetting for the moment the voice that had answered Sam's phone, and sat down opposite.

"Are you D?" she asked.

Dean frowned. "Huh?"

"Are you D, the one that called Sam's phone?"

Dean nodded slowly, the memory catching up with him. With the memory, came realization. "Are you Amelia?" he asked.

The woman nodded and fresh tears sprung to her eyes. "Who…" she cleared her throat. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dean. Sam's my brother."

The woman paled and looked a little angry. "Sam's brother is dead. Try again. Are you a reporter or a cop?"

Dean huffed a laugh. "My name is Dean, and Sam is my brother. There was a misunderstanding, he thought I was dead, but I wasn't."

The woman looked stunned. "You too… Of all the… I can't believe it."

"Believe it or not, here I am," Dean said. "Now are you going to tell me what happened to my brother?"

The woman looked like she would rather do anything than answer Dean's question. She had guts though, Dean had to give her that, as she wiped at her tear streaked face and rested her palms on her knees.

"How much did they tell you?"

"Just that he was shot."

She nodded. "We were at a bar. I left first and… someone attacked me. When Sam came out, he tried to protect me. That's when the man pulled the gun. Sam was trying to save me when the gun went off. It was an accident."

Sam was trying to protect his woman. The news didn't surprise Dean. Sam was a hunter, protecting people was part of the gig, and he would want to protect his woman above any other.

"Did you see who it was?" Dean asked. "Did you recognize who did it?"

Amelia looked at a point above Dean's head. "No. I'd never seen him before."

She was lying. Dean's every sense told him that she knew exactly who had shot Sam, but she wasn't going to tell him.

"Try again," he said, echoing her words. "Who shot my brother?"

She visibly crumpled. Her hands came up to cover her face and her shoulders shook with sobs. "I don't know. I didn't see."

"Bullshit. You saw him and you know him. Tell me who it was!" he demanded.

"I don't know!" she said again.

"Fine," Dean snapped. "Sam will tell me, and then whoever you're protecting will get theirs."

Amelia nodded soberly and cast her eyes back to the floor. Dean sank back down onto the couch, and rested his hands on his knees.

Time passed in silence, neither of them aware of the hour, only knowing that there was still no news.

Then the door opened and a man came in dressed in dark blue scrubs.

"The family of Sam Winchester?" he asked.

Both Dean and Amelia got to their feet and spoke at the same time. "Yes."

Dean scowled at her. She wasn't Sam's family. He was. She was just some woman he had hooked up with. She didn't care for Sam really. If she did, she would have told Dean the name of Sam's attacker.

"How is he?" Amelia asked.

The doctor gestured for them to take a seat again, and sat down opposite them.

"Sam is in a very grave condition. We had to halt the surgery for the time being, as we were unable to maintain his vitals."

Amelia paled. She apparently understood more than Dean had. All he'd heard was that they stopped the surgery.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"It means we are waiting for your brother to stabilize before we can go back in and finish the repairs."

"Where is the damage?" Amelia asked.

"The majority of the damage is limited to the small intestine, but the gravest injury is to the aorta. The bullet nicked the aorta as it passed. We have repaired the damage there, but Sam went into hypovolemic shock. We have blood running into him now, and once he has stabilized, we will finish repairing the damage."

"Isn't he at high risk of infection from the intestinal injury?" Amelia asked.

"He is," the doctor said soberly. "But he was just too unstable to continue."

Dean frowned. "But if he gets an infection, what then?"

"In the condition your brother is in at the moment, he will not be able to fight it off. But if we continue the surgery now, he will die."

Dean felt like he'd been punched in the gut. His breath rushed out of him in a whoosh. He flopped back against the couch back, and brought shaking hands to his face.

"My brother's dying. Is that what you're saying?"

"You brother is in critical condition," the doctor said evasively. "But I hope that, when we have completed the surgery, he will be able to recover."

Dean was a practiced liar—his vocation made it a necessity—and he could tell when he was being lied to. This doctor was lying to him. He had no faith in Sam making a recovery, and from the devastated look on Amelia's face, she wasn't buying it either.

Sam wasn't going to recover. He was dying, and there was nothing the doctor could do about it.

Thanks to everyone that reviewed the last chapter. I think I replied to you all individually, but if I missed you, I apologize. I love reading your thoughts, and it makes all the hard work worthwhile to know you are enjoying the story.

In other news, Snarkymuch2 has a new story, and I have jumped on the band wagon and will be writing it with her. It's a Sam/Lucifer pairing — unusual I know — but I think if you gacve it a try you would enjoy it. The story can be found under her profile, a link to which is under my favorite authors. Please give it a look and let us know what you think. The first chapter is all her own work, so all credit goes to her, but the second has my input and we're curious to see if our two writing styles mesh.

CoM x