So yeah… I guess I'm gonna continue this, and I wanted to say thank you to all of the people that reviewed this story… I wanted to dedicate this chapter to Phx because for one I love her stories, and the fact that she took the time to read and review my story means a lot… and two… Dunno… But I wanna dedicate it to her just because…

So here is the next chapter… take care, and remember that these ideas are mine, but the muses and voices in my head made me write them down for their sadistic pleasure.

Take care and read on…

"We need help here!" Dean yelled as he carried Sam in through the ER doors. The attempts to rouse the youngest Winchester in the car hadn't worked, and Dean was getting anxious.

"What happened here?" A man in deep green scrubs asked as he walked up to the trio.

"He fell out of a tree in the woods, and he was doing just fine until we got him in the car. As soon as we started driving he slipped unconscious, and we haven't been able to wake him since." John lied easily. The man nodded, and yelled at a nearby nurse to get a stretcher.

"Lay him down gently." Dean lowered Sam onto the stretcher, mindful of his wrist and his head. "What's his medical history?" The man asked as soon as Sam was situated.

"He was in a coma for a month last year, with major head trauma, after being hit by a truck." John told the man, frustration and fear shining through his voice.

"Sandy?" The man called, looking over his shoulder, away from John and Dean. When a short woman looked up, a perky little smile on her face that made John groan.

"Yes, doctor?" She asked, a fake frown now marring her features.

"Call down to MRI and tell them that we have a patient coming down that needs to be seen immediately. Tell them that he has had major head trauma in the past." The man said, his voice calm and smooth, but the nurse nodded, scurrying away as fast as she could, knowing that she had no choice in the matter.

"Okay, I need you two to go sit in the waiting room, while he is being transferred into a hospital gown." The doctor said, nodding to two women standing behind him to go do as he had said.

The man followed John and Dean into the waiting room, needing information on his patient before he did anything. "Okay, I need his name, age, and any medical information you have on him that could help us."

"His name is Sam Winchester, he's eighteen, and he isn't allergic to any medications that we know of. As you know he had the head trauma last year. Along with that, he has also broken his wrist before, so it might be a complicated break." John said, and Dean felt déjà vu sweep over him.

'"Blunt trauma to the head," one of the medics reported as the other checked Sam's gag reflex. Finding no resistance, a tube was inserted into Sam's mouth and pushed down his throat. The medic then attached a translucent blue bag to the tube, and squeezed it methodically, to give Sam air.

"Pupils are uneven and have a sluggish response, we're looking at a severe concussion and possible brain damage. This kid needs to get to the hospital fast." As the medic finished talking, he wrapped a neck brace around Sam's neck, and then transferred him from the asphalt to a backboard.

Sam was strapped onto a stretcher and then loaded into the back of the waiting ambulance. When Dean went to follow, one of the paramedics put his hand up, stopping him.

"I'm sorry sir, but you are going to have to follow us to the hospital, there isn't enough room in the back of the ambulance for you to ride, while we work." Dean reluctantly nodded.

As Dean started to walk away, the paramedic stopped him once again. "Sir before we leave, can you tell us his name, age, and if he is allergic to any medications?"

"Sam Winchester, he's seventeen, and he's not allergic to anything that we know of." The medic nodded and hopped into the back of the ambulance, as he thanked Dean for the information.'

Dean shivered as he remembered what had happened with Sam just the year before. He remembered the fear he had felt as the medics had asked him questions about Sam, the way Sam had just lain there motionless, so very, very... still.

"Dean?" He heard his father's voice break through his reverie. He sounded concerned, and Dean idly wondered how many times he had called him before Dean had actually responded to him.

"Yeah?"

"C'mon son, let's sit down." John said softly, still eying his eldest son with concern.

Dean followed the man without comment, sitting down in the chair his father indicated; all the while thinking back to what had happened the last time they had been sitting in the waiting room like this.

"You okay?" His father asked, worry clear in his tone.

"Yeah, I'm okay, just remembering what happened before." Dean answered quietly, knowing that his father knew exactly what he was talking about.

"M-hmm, it is kind of hard not to think about it, isn't it?" John asked, the familiar glaze of memory shining in his old eyes.

"Yes." His answer was simple, but the emotions hidden behind it were anything but simple.

"Guess we're in for a long wait, huh?" John asked rhetorically.

"Guess so." A deep sigh was the only thing that accompanied his answer, and Dean felt his heart clench for the umpteenth time that day. He knew his father was hurting and just as afraid as he was for Sammy, but he couldn't help caring about his own emotions more at the momet.

An hour later and Dean was getting anxious for his brother, while his father dozed lightly in the chair next to him. He knew his father hadn't been getting a lot of sleep lately, and while he was happy that the man was actually getting some sleep, Dean couldn't help but wonder how he was accomplishing such a feat while Sam was only God knows where in the hospital.

He ground his teeth together in frustration, the old habit coming back to him. It was something that kept him calm in times of stress, times that Sammy was hurt... times like these.

"Dean," a drowsy voice said next to him and he jumped. Turning to look at his father, he saw that though he was awake, it was just barely. "Stop." Dean looked at him in confusion, wondering how the man could know that he had been grinding his teeth, when he had so obviously been asleep the moment before. "You're gonna break a tooth, or give me a headache... Neither option is a good one, so stop." With that John closed his eyes, and Dean looked at him incredulously.

"Stop staring." The voice startled him again. 'How the hell did he do that?' Dean asked himself. The man's eyes had been closed, Dean knew that for a fact, he had been looking straight at him when he had spoken.

Deciding that he would leave the matter for a later time, Dean turned back to the clock that was hooked up on the wall in front of him. He counted the seconds in time with the hand on the clock, hoping that the doctor would come back out to talk to them soon. 'What is taking them so long?' Dean asked himself.

'Unless... unless Sammy is hurt really badly.'

By the time John had fully woken, half an hour later, Dean had worked himself into a deep worry. Thinking about the different possibilities of what had happened to Sam, and how badly he was really injured was driving Dean insane. The fact that the doctor hadn't come back out yet, wasn't helping matters at all.

It was another fifteen minutes of constant worry, more so for Dean who had been thinking of all the bad things that could have happened to Dean since they had gotten to the hospital; before they heard echoing footsteps coming down the hall.

The doctor from earlier walked straight at them, his face haggard looking. Dean didn't like the expression that he wore either.

'Had he been right? Was something really wrong with Sammy?'

The man opened his mouth to speak, and Dean dreaded his words...

I know it was a lame ending, and I didn't like anyway that I wrote it, but this was the best one, so... Sorry.

Thanks again for the reviews, and I hope you like this chapter enough to review... even though i don't... ::Growls:: So push the little happy purple button on the left and feed me...

Love yah'all, and take care

OSS