So sorry for how long it took me to post this chapter, but I've been ridiculously busy lately. Enjoy!

Everything was dark. Black as night—cold as ice.

Sam Winchester stood in the middle of a room.

Alone.

All alone.

A pistol held in one hand.

"This is how it's supposed to be." A voice whispered in his ear. "How it should have been."

Sam nodded, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Do it."

Eyes shut, Sam raised the pistol to his temple—his finger tightened on the trigger—

"Sam! NO!"

Sam's eyes shot open, startled—she was running toward him, arms outstretched—A flash of gold—

Sam bolted up in his seat and opened his eyes, gasping for air.

Dean slammed his foot down on the brake and the Impala screeched to a stop. "Sam? Sammy?"

Sam took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face before he glanced over at his brother. Dean was staring at him intently, frightened, and Sam gave him a small smile. "I'm okay." He said, his shaky voice far from reassuring.

"Are you sure?" Dean demanded worriedly. "How's your head?"

"Dean, it…it was just a nightmare, that's all. I'm not going to disappear."

Dean shook his head, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. "Oh no, I'm not falling for that again. You said that last time…and when I got back to the car you were gone, remember?"

Sam winced guiltily. "Yeah…sorry about that."

"Sorry? You're sorry? Sam, you were just gone and there was nothing that I could do to find you! Do you have any idea how—" Dean looked away and let out a frustrated sigh. He pushed back down on the gas pedal, allowing the car to creep forward, and when he spoke again his voice was back to its usual laidback tone, "I'm still going to kick your ass for that later…after this is over."

Sam nodded, a slight smile on his lips, "I know." He looked out the window to see the hospital looming ahead of them. "We're here…" He said, surprised.

"Yeah…I was just about to wake you." Dean said simply as he pulled into a parking space.

Sam opened his door and stepped out of the car. Every part of his body protested the movement, and he winced and clung to the door of the car for support.

Dean noticed his brother's obvious distress. "Sam?"

Sam forced what he hoped was a laidback expression on his face and slammed the door shut. "I'm fine." He said firmly.

Dean shook his head. "Like hell you are…" he walked over to his brother, noticing the way he had paled significantly and was swaying on his feet. "Sam…"

"Not now, Dean." Sam said, avoiding his brother's concerned gaze. "Let's just go in and get what we came for." He turned and began walking slowly towards the entrance to the hospital. A few seconds later he felt Dean gently grab onto his upper arm, offering him some support. "Thanks." He mumbled.

Dean nodded. "So…what exactly did we come here for, Sam?" he asked, changing the subject.

Sam shrugged. "I don't really know for sure…it just…feels right."

Dean looked sideways at him and raised an eyebrow. "It feels right? What feels right?"

"I—I don't know, being here, I guess…at this hospital…" Sam said, frustrated. "Look, I'm just as confused as you are about this whole situation, Dean. I don't know why we need to be here, but it's where we're supposed to be, okay?"

Dean frowned but kept walking toward the entrance, helping to support his brother.

Sam sighed angrily. "Why do people keep staring at me?"

"Probably because you look like shit." Dean said, cringing when the statement came out harsher than he had meant it to. He had made Sam wash the blood and soot off of himself at the diner they had stopped at for lunch, but he still resembled the walking dead.

"I'm fine." Sam lied for what seemed like the hundredth time, wishing his brother would just leave him alone.

"You look like you're going to pass out at any second, Sam." Dean continued, "You're not fine." He opened the door and he and Sam stepped into the hospital.

Sam looked around. It was just like every other hospital he had ever been in: white walls, bright lights. Cheerful pictures hanging on the walls while tearful families sat on ugly plastic chairs waiting to hear news of their loved ones. Sam cringed. "I hate hospitals."

"Let's get this over with." Dean said, his eyes fixed on the woman at the front desk. "We need Mom's records, right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to charm that woman at the desk into giving us the files we need."

"And what do you want me to do?" Sam asked.

"Well, you're obviously going to stand here and look cute."

"Dean—"

"Sam, you look like hell. The second that nurse sees you she's going to scream for someone to bring in a gurney and take you off to the emergency room to get a blood transfusion, stitches, and who knows what else. Hell, if it wasn't for the fact that you could disappear at any second I would be severely tempted to check you in to this hospital myself before you bleed to death or pass out again!" Dean snapped.

Sam looked at Dean apologetically. "Do I really look that bad?"

Dean ran a hand over his face. "Just sit down and relax for a minute while I talk to the nurse, okay?"

Deciding that it was best to not to argue, Sam warily sunk down into the nearest plastic chair without a word.

Dean nodded. "Thanks Sam, I'll be back in a minute or so…try not to bleed on anything." He started to walk away but then paused and looked back, "Oh, and Sam, if you get even the slightest headache, anything at all, you better damn well tell me this time."

The nurse behind the desk was bent over a stack of paperwork, her face half hidden by her chestnut colored hair. Dean strolled casually up to her and leaned down on the desk. "Excuse me, miss…" Dean said politely.

"I'll be right with you." The woman said without looking up, continuing to scribble away. "I just need to finish this last chart…"

Dean rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth together in frustration. "I really hate to rush you—but I'm in a hurry…" He said, the forced pleasantness of voice almost covering up his annoyance.

The woman sighed loudly and put her pen down. She glanced up at Dean and gave him a genuine smile. "Sorry for the delay, Sir. What do you need?"

"My name is Dean Winchester, and I need to see all hospital records for Mary Winchester…my mother."

"Okay." The woman said, making a brief note on a notepad. She gestured to the waiting area, "Go have a seat, we'll call you up when we're ready."

"Right." Dean said, giving her one of his best smiles. "So…how long is this going to take?"

The woman shrugged and went back to her paperwork. "It'll be awhile…as you can see we're quite busy today. Have a seat."

Dean didn't move an inch. "Look…please, I need to see the records now. It's very important."

The woman sighed and continued writing. "Look, I'm sorry, but you have to wait in line just like—" She looked up and froze.

Dean blinked, staring at her. The woman continued to gaze straight ahead, eyes fixed on nothing. "Miss?" he said softly. "Hey, what—are you okay?" He waved a hand in front of her face—nothing. He turned around to see what she was looking at.

"Shit." He whispered, gazing around himself in shock. Everyone in the room had frozen in place—silent—motionless—nothing moved.

Dean turned back towards the nurse and jumped—she was glaring at him, piercing green eyes inches from his, her mouth twisted into a scowl.

"I don't want you here." She hissed.

"You—what?" Dean said, bewildered.

"I don't want you here. I—want—Sam." She said menacingly.

Dean's hands clenched into fists at the mention of his brother's name. "What the hell—who are you?!"

"Where is he?"

Dean pulled his gun out and pointed the barrel inches from her forehead. "Stay away from him—whoever the hell you are—you stay away! Do you hear me?!"

"He's here, isn't he?" she said, her scowl twisting into a taunting smile. "You actually brought him here—"

"Leave him the hell alone!" Dean yelled, his finger tightening on the trigger, eyes wide with fury. "I'm only going to ask you one—more—time—who are you?"

She cocked her head to one side, smile widening as she ignored his threats. "Awww…did big brother Dean make a big mistake? Looks like Sammy's all mine now…"

Dean fired.

The bullet exploded from the barrel of his gun—and then hung suspended in the air between them. Dean stared at it, stunned, and then turned his gaze to the woman. "What are you?"

"You should go." The woman murmured absently, gently touching the bullet with her finger. She looked up at him coldly, her eyes burning into his.

Dean shook his head, glancing over to where his brother sat frozen on his chair just like everyone else, unaware that anything was happening. "No."

"Leave the hospital, Dean."

"Why do you want him here?"

"I don't have time for this." She said. "I'm ordering you to leave!"

"And I'm telling you," Dean yelled, "that I'm not going anywhere—anywhere—without Sam! Got that?!"

"Fine." She said. "You can stay in the hospital."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What—"

Without warning, the bullet shot backwards—towards Dean—and imbedded itself deep within his chest. His lips parted slightly in disbelief, and a shaky breath escaped from his mouth as he realized what had happened. He slowly moved a hand to his chest and pulled it away—blood.

"Have a nice day, Sir." the woman said mockingly. Dean looked up at her, towards where he knew she was standing behind the desk, but his swimming vision wouldn't focus on her. He stumbled and fell to his knees as his legs gave out beneath him.

Someone screamed, and the bustle of the hospital resumed in an instant, the sounds dull—strangely muted—in his ears. Spots of light danced across his vision as he felt a pair of hands gently take hold of his shoulders and lower him down the rest of the way to the floor. He gazed up at the ceiling, trying to focus on the shapes and shadows above him, but he couldn't concentrate—he couldn't think. The ring of urgent voices faded to silence, replaced by the loud, steady pounding of his heart in his chest.

It stopped.

What??! Plot twist! I have so much fun writing these stories. Leave me a review, they really do encourage me to make time and write faster. Thanks!