Maxie Winchester

by loveintheimpala

Sisfic. Max deals with the reunion of her family, as well as her troubled personal life, along with her older brother and best friend Dean and her twin brother Sam, while they search for their missing father, hunting and killing the supernatural along the way. Set in season one, mostly follows the series. (edited by winchestergirl67) - {on a break}

10. Chapter 10

Hospital, 11:14AM.

Over the past hour and a half that I'd spent standing around in the waiting room, I'd only managed to come to one conclusion; hospitals were one of the worst places on earth. They were nothing but dismal and depressing places that no one who was in their right mind should want to spend any more time in than what was necessary. I stood to the side of the room, trying to remain out of the way and inconspicuous, as if I could fade into the dull white wall behind me. That way, people who were walking past me, whether they were staff, patients or visitors, might stop shooting me the sympathetic smiles, as though they all assumed that I were there waiting on a dying family member. I folded my arms over my chest and let out a small, drained sigh as I slowly looked between the few other people occupying the room. There was a couple sitting in the blue plastic chairs towards the corner, the woman crying into the man's shoulder softly while he tried to calm her down. There was another woman who was sitting alone, her forehead rested against her clasped hands, her eyes tightly closed, as though she was praying to someone for help. And then there was a guy, he only looked about twenty, looking as though he had just received some pretty rough news. All in all, the place was just overall dispiriting and gloomy, not a place that I really wanted to be.

My eyes fell back to where Sam was standing, his hands in his jacket pockets, I thought maybe as an attempt to hide his balled fists, while he spoke to the same two police officers that had been harassing him for the past fifteen minutes. His face remained completely calm and steady, but there was an impatient frown underlying it, a fidgeting and anxiousness in his behaviour that would have been so unreadable to pretty much anyone other than me or Dean. His mind was obviously elsewhere as he spoke to them, but it was clear to anyone who looked at him that he was trying to get through the conversation as quickly as possible, his eyes continuously scanning the hallways around him for any sign of expected movement.

I pushed myself forwards from the wall and headed towards him slowly, just as the cops were turning to walk away towards the double doors at the end of the corridor. Dean's doctor, a tall, dark-skinned man, came to a stop where they had been previously standing, looking between me and Sam slowly. There was a small and uncomfortable frown on his face, a sadness in his eyes that only made me feel more uneasy than I already had done. "Hey, Doc," Sam's voice was quiet as he greeted the man, a tiredness and clear tone of fear in his words. "Is he..?" He trailed off before he even gave himself a chance to finish his question, as though he didn't want to ask it out of fear of the answer.

A sympathetic and remorseful look replaced the frown on the doctor's face at Sam's question, which was never a good sign when it came to things like that. "He's resting." He answered him simply, looking between the two of us again and giving a small sigh when neither me or him responded to the short statement. "The electrocution triggered a heart attack." He went on. "Pretty massive, I'm afraid. Your brother's heart, it's damaged." He explained, coming to a stop and looking to us for a reaction.

I honestly felt nothing but sick at the words, literally like I could go to the nearest trash can and throw up out of pure fear. "How damaged?" Sam asked him, his voice becoming weaker and weaker with everything he had to say, as though he was finding it gradually harder to keep himself calm, not that I could blame him for that.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, not sure that I even wanted to hear the answer to that question. Whatever he was about to say, we all knew that it wasn't good, I didn't understand why they felt the need to drag it out like that. The doctor sighed again, that time heavier. "We've done all that we can for him." He replied solemnly. "We can try to keep him comfortable at this point, but I'd give him a couple of weeks, at the most, maybe a month." At that point, I was pretty sure that I was going to throw up. I felt like I'd been kicked in the chest, like the air had been knocked from my lungs. I felt like I couldn't even breath, let alone form a complete sentence. It was like everything had stopped, and there was just that one sentence there, that they couldn't do anything for him, that they weren't going to try anything else to save his life, that they were pretty much calling him a write off because they didn't know how to help him. Dean was going to die. And nothing else at that point mattered to me. That was the only thing that I could think of. It was over.

Sam shook his head slowly, tears forming in his eyes. "No, no, there's.." He took a breath, he looked like he was physically fighting with himself to keep it together. "There's gotta be something you can do?" He pressed urgently, a desperate plea in his voice for help. "Some kind of treatment you can try with him?" He asked.

The doctor looked from Sam to me, the look on his face never faltering, apology and sorrow written all over his expression. "We can't work miracles." He offered up yet another lugubrious smile, followed by a sad sigh. "I really am sorry." He finished quietly before he nodded and turned away, walking off down the hallway from us.

Sam and I stood in complete silence for a couple of minutes, both too stunned at the news to even speak. It was a rare thing in this job that anything could manage to physically eliminate the words from my mouth but, at that news, I was shocked into total silence. My whole world felt as though it was imploding. I felt light-headed, my head was all over the place, not one clear thought in it. It swamped with different horrible thoughts of what was to come, the doctor's words the only ones swimming continuously through my mind, the overwhelmed feeling making me want to cry. I dropped down into the nearest chair, pretty sure that if I hadn't I might have forgotten how to stand. My elbows rested against my knees, my head pressed against the palms of my hands, fingers gripping my hair. "Max," Sam said softly as he took a seat in the chair beside me, taking a couple of seconds before he rested a hand on my back comfortingly. Even with my eyes fixed on the tiled floor, I could feel him watching me closely, but I couldn't bare to face him. I didn't think I could cope with seeing the helpless and defeated look in his eyes, the scared and broken look on his face, that would have been enough to push me to breaking point, to finally see the devastation in his face at knowing what was going to happen. It was all too much. "Come on," He coaxed gently, making a move to get up. "We need to see him." He mumbled.

I cleared my throat and nodded slowly, still refusing to face him. "You go ahead," I muttered, sitting up a little straighter, managing to look up but my eyes never meeting his. "I'll be there in a minute." I knew what I had to do before I went anywhere near that room, while I still had some kind of hope or strength left in me. Because I knew, once I'd been in there, once I'd seen my brother in the state I could picture him in, that was going to be it. All stoicism, all patience and hope would go out of the window, and everything would just crash.

Sam watched me curiously for a few seconds, as though he was contemplating whether or not he wanted to ask what I was thinking about doing. He opened his mouth before he closed it again, apparently thinking against it, and gave my shoulder a small squeeze as he stood up. "Sure." He answered. His voice made him sound timid, something I hadn't heard him sound like before. I could see, he was truly afraid, he was scared and he was praying for a miracle. A small, sad sigh escaped him before he turned and walked away towards Dean's room, never looking back. He paused for a second outside of the door, hesitating for a moment before entering.

The second that Sam had pulled the door closed behind himself, I pulled my phone from my jacket pocket and got to my feet, dialing an all too familiar number and taking a steady breath before calling it. I held the phone to my ear, subconsciously pacing in small circles and closing my eyes, holding my breath, praying for an answer that deep down I knew I wasn't going to get. I didn't know what I was planning to say, what was I supposed to say? At the sound of the familiar recorded message, I tried to think through anything that I could say while I waited for the beep, not having a clue where to even start. I pulled a hand down my face and released a short breath at the sound. "Hey, Dad." My voice cracked at those two simple words, I could hear the dismay even in my own voice. Calling Dad wasn't something I'd normally have resorted to, I figured if he wanted us, he'd call us himself, whatever he was doing was obviously too important. I was fine with that. But at this point, when Dean was dying, two weeks left to live, I didn't see another option. "It's Max. Listen, I, uh, I know that you probably won't get this, but if you do, Dad.." I stopped, no clue how to go on. "It's Dean. He's.. he's sick. Like, really bad. And the doctors, they say that there's nothing they can do." I could feel the lump in my throat, the tears forming in my eyes at the thought, threatening to fall. "Dean needs you here, okay? I need you here. Dad, please? Just this one time, please?" I sighed at the pleading tone in my voice. I was supposed to be stronger than that, I was supposed to be able to handle the hard stuff without breaking down, that was how I'd been brought up. That was how Dad had brought me up, how Dean had brought me up. And yet, as I hung up the phone and shoved it into the back pocket of my jeans, I couldn't help the tears that fell down my cheeks.

I turned and looked over towards Dean's room, no matter how much I didn't want to go in there, no matter how much I didn't want to see him in that state, no matter how much I didn't want to accept what was happening - it wasn't going to just go away. There was no stopping the inevitable, despite how much I wanted to believe there was a way that we could. I wasn't an idiot. I didn't believe in miracles, I didn't believe that things could just get better, because they never did.

I wiped at my face and pushed up a small smile as I opened the door, something that quickly fell as I saw him. I looked over him slowly, something sinking in my chest at the painful sight of him. He was an eery pale white colour, in a way that I had never seen him look before, dark circles underneath his tired eyes, making him look nothing but ill and exhausted. He didn't take his eyes off of the small TV beside the bed that he had been watching intently as I had entered, his expression remaining steady, a hesitant look in his eyes as he clearly didn't want to have the conversation he knew was coming with us. I glanced over at Sam who simply looked a mixture of impatience and sadness. I got the impression that he was trying and failing to have a serious conversation with Dean, and that Dean was refusing to engage him in it. "Have you ever actually watched daytime TV?" Dean muttered as I closed the door behind myself quietly. I could hear that he was trying to sound upbeat and cheery, but his voice was weak, and that sent a sick feeling to the pit of my stomach. Dean never sounded weak, even on the one in a million days he got ill, he never, ever, sounded like that. "It's terrible." He added bluntly.

Sam just shook his head at him, not seeming to be able to find an answer to that one. "Dean, will you please just listen to me," Sam pushed, his tone desperate. "Look, we talked to your doctor." He stated simply, his voice clearly remorseful, a note of sadness in his tone.

Dean didn't seem too phased by the amount of concern clear in Sam's voice. "That fabric softener teddy bear," He continued as he flicked through the channels, acting as though he couldn't register the clear hurt and fear coming through. "Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down." He joked, attempting to lighten the tense mood in the small room.

"Dean." Sam pressed bluntly, almost impatiently. There was an urgency in his voice, like he needed to get through to him.

Dean looked up at Sam's tone, finally seeming to understand how serious he was taking the situation. He gave a small, passive sigh and flicked off the TV, dropping the remote down beside himself. "Yeah," He muttered, shaking his head slowly like he wasn't sure what Sam expected him to say. "Alright, well, it looks like you're gonna leave town without me." He stated, not really looking too bothered about it.

Sam scoffed, giving a small shake of his head. "What are you talking about?" He sounded as though he almost didn't believe Dean's words himself. "We're not gonna leave you here." He stated, briefly glancing over at me before looking back to Dean.

"Hey, you better take care of that car," Dean went on, his tone serious. "Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass."

Sam just once again shook his head at him in disbelief. "I don't think that's funny." He muttered.

Dean gave a weak smirk and shrugged. "Oh, come on, it's a little funny." He said lightly. There was a long silence between the three of us. Sam looked away from him, clearly fighting back tears, his jaw clenched. Dean sighed sadly. "Look, Sammy, what can I say, man, it's a dangerous gig." He reasoned. "I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story." It almost disturbed me how okay Dean seemed to be with dying.

"Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options." Sam said flatly.

Dean shook his head at him. "What options?" He pressed. "Yeah, burial or cremation." Sam didn't answer him, only looking hurt by that comment. Dean seemed to noticed and softened his voice. "And I know it's not easy, but, I'm gonna die." He said quietly. "And you can't stop it."

Sam clenched and unclenched his jaw, taking a couple of seconds before he answered. "Watch me." Was all he said before he turned and walked out of the room, a determined frown fixed on his face.

I watched Sam leave the room, returning my gaze to the floor as the door banged shut behind him. I could feel Dean watching me, unsure of what to do. Being in a hospital meant that I was in the one place I didn't want to break down in, and in front of Dean, I was with the one person that I didn't want to break down in front of. I didn't need to make it any harder for him, to give him something else to worry about just ten short minutes after he had been told he was going to die. I realised that I couldn't just stand there and stare at the floor the entire day, I had to do something. I slowly moved to sit down on the edge of his bed, taking a couple of minutes before I conjured up the courage to face him again. He looked over me sadly, a doleful look in his eyes, and smiled sadly, taking one of my hands in his and giving it a light squeeze. "Max," He began, his voice low and understanding.

"Dean, please," I practically whispered. "Don't." I could hear where he was taking it, and it was a speech I couldn't listen to, not there, not then. Him giving that speech was only going to make the whole situation seem more real, more like I was actually going to lose him. And at that point, I didn't think that I was going to cope if I were to lose him. I couldn't think how life was going to be without him around, I didn't want to. It would be so different, so dark - the thought scared me.

Dean sighed quietly. "I'm gonna die, Maxie." His voice was soft and remorseful, yet he still seemed to be way more concerned about me than about himself. As usual. I didn't want him to be worried about me, for once in his life I wanted him to worry about himself.

I shook my head at him, unable to help it as tears filled up in my eyes again. I couldn't accept it, not a chance. Accepting that he was going to die felt like I were giving up on him, and that was the last thing I ever wanted to do. "No, you're not." I answered flatly. "Dean, you can't." My voice cracked over the words. I just couldn't face the life without him, and yet, he seemed so okay with it.

Dean sighed sadly and shook his head slowly. "Max-" He tried again, like he was about to reason it out and make it okay, like it ever could be.

"Dean." I cut him off before he had the chance to tell me that it was all going to be fine, that Sam and I would manage. "Stop it." I muttered.

"Maxie, just listen to me, alright?" His voice came desperate, like he was pleading with me to hear him out. I managed to face him again, looking him in the eyes. At that point, he looked about as broken as I felt, the stoic act he'd put on dropped. "I can't take you being like this." He said quietly. "I know it's hard, sis, I do. And, I know it's scary out there, but the thing is, when you get scared, Max, you get stupid. I need you to look after yourself, okay? Please." I blinked the tears from my eyes, I could see he was being deadly serious with me. There was a look in his eyes that I only ever saw when something serious had happened, something which freaked him out or genuinely troubled him. Most things, Dean could brush them off with a cocky smirk and a playful one-liner, but there were other things, situations like these, where even that didn't work for him. And those were the times that things honestly scared me. Because if it was something that even Dean couldn't handle, it was definitely something bad. "Maxie?" He pressed, giving my hand another small squeeze, reminding me that he was there.

"Yeah," I nodded slowly, not actually sure what I was saying yes to, but at that point it was the only word that seemed to come out. My mind was way too crammed full of daunting and dreary thoughts to think too much about what I was saying to him.

Dean sighed, not seeming at all satisfied with that but letting it go all the same. I don't think that either of us knew what to say to the other by that time, I mean, what were you supposed to say when a doctor had given you a couple of weeks to live? There weren't any words that were going to change it, there were no words to make it better, anything we said was probably going to make it harder. I eventually managed up a small, unconvincing smile to him, at that point wanting to do anything but smile. I felt like crying, just being alone and crying - but there was no leaving him in that state, because I knew, however hard it had been, Dean wouldn't have bailed on me.

---

Three days later, 01:12PM, Motel Room.

I headed into the motel room, looking over Sam slowly as I did. He was sitting in the same place he had been when I'd left, his laptop and a bunch of books scattered over the table in front of him, the same concentrated, serious frown remaining fixed into his face. There were dark circles beginning to form under his eyes, the lack of sleep finally taking its toll on his level of patience. By that point, I was avoiding making any kind of comment at all in risk of him yelling at me. He was anxious and stressed out, the fear and desperation for an answer beginning to show in his behaviour. The past three days, most of my time had been spent at the hospital with Dean. Sam, on the other hand, had spent it reading countless books and scouring endless websites, looking for any way to fix the unfixable situation. "Hey," I said slowly as I entered, closing the door behind myself softly. Sam glanced up, giving a small nod in my direction, not bothering with an answer. "Sam, look, maybe you should try to get some sleep, you know? All this work and caffeine can't be good for you." I tried, feeling like I was repeating myself yet again, my words never seeming to register with him. The lack of sleep was making him irritable and grouchy, a mood I wasn't used to Sam being in.

Sam gave a deep, frustrated sigh and sat back in his seat to look at me properly. His eyes were starting to look a little bloodshot due to the lengthy amount of time he'd spent starting at his laptop screen without any sleep. "Max, he's going to die if I don't find a way to save him." He responded bluntly, absolutely no patience at all left in him. "You don't seem to want to help at all, so it's down to me. And I'm not going to let him die, okay?" He snapped.

I raised my eyebrows, putting his mood down to grief and exhaustion, letting the comment slide. "Sam, you're going to make yourself ill." I countered, walking further into the room and looking at him properly. "What the hell are you expecting you're going to find? Anything that you find on there is either going to be complete trash, or if by some miracle you find something that does work, it's going to be some backwards black magic crap and you know as well as I do, Dean won't go for it." Sam just looked at me for a few seconds, seeming to think of an answer but then reconsider it, opening and closing his mouth slowly.

Sam finally shook his head and ran a hand over his face, getting to his feet. "I'm gonna take a shower." He muttered, turning to the bathroom and disappearing through the door without another word.

I turned from the door and dropped down into the seat Sam had been sitting in, looking over the research he'd been doing, scattered over the small table. I wished that I could have had his level of faith, the way that he could always seem to find some hope or see some kind of light at the end of the tunnel. In this life, I didn't know how he did it. There was always so much pain, so much evil that only seemed to hurt the good people who didn't deserve it - none of it seemed fair. Yet Sam still managed to believe that there was some higher power out there. I pulled out of my thoughts as my phone rang from my jacket, hoping for a second that it was going to be Dad. But then, who the hell was I kidding? We'd all given up hope of Dad calling us, never mind the chance of him showing up. I flipped it open and cleared my throat. "Hello?" I answered.

"Hey," Dean's voice replied, his tone light, sounding almost cheery. "You on your own?" He added.

I frowned in confusion at the question. "Yeah," I answered slowly. "Well, Sam's in the bathroom, but yeah, why?" I pressed in curiosity.

"I need you to come pick me up." He stated simply, pausing and waiting for an answer.

"What?" For a second, I thought he'd been kidding, but his tone was completely serious, all joking and casualness aside. "No."

"Maxie," He pushed, his voice making him sound like he was practically begging for me to go and get him. I realised then, the reason he'd asked if I were alone, Sam would kill me for taking him out of the hospital. "Please?"

"Dean," I argued. "You can't leave a friggin' hospital in the state that you're in, no way. Sam'll go insane if he finds out."

Dean sighed in frustration. "Look, Max, you can either get your ass over here and come pick me up, or I'll just walk." He countered. "Take your pick." There was a hint of smugness in his voice, like he knew at that he had me beat.

I sighed and shook my head, he was obviously leaving there with or without my help. "Alright," I gave in. "Just, don't do anything until I get there, okay? Please."

Dean gave a short laugh. "Thanks, sis." He muttered before he hung up the phone. I snapped the phone shut and shoved it into my back pocket before grabbing the keys to the Impala from the table and heading to the door, not bothering to tell Sam where I was going. It wasn't like he needed to know, there were only so many places in a town like that I would bother to go to. And it wasn't like he couldn't call me if he got so wound up about it, not that he would - he was too wrapped up in his own mental battle to save Dean to worry about what I was doing.

I tried to remain unphased by the whole thing, not wanting to spend any more time than was necessary in thinking about what was to come. The fact that Dean was leaving, that he wasn't coming back, he was just going to be gone - that scared me more than any ghost, demon, or any monster I'd ever even heard of. Dean was the one person who I trusted everything with, the first one I'd turn to if I ever got myself into trouble. The thought that he wasn't going to be around anymore made me feel physically ill. I didn't know what I was supposed to do once he was gone, he was the one I looked to for direction, for guidance, I already felt lost.

Seeing someone who was once so lively and spirited, someone who always seemed to find the brighter side of things, someone who would never fail to make me crack a smile when I was pissed or upset - it was horrible to see him looking so weak, lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines.

Dean gave an innocent, lopsided grin as I walked into his room, already fully dressed in his jeans and jacket, obviously eager to leave the place. "You alright?" I looked over him slowly, he looked about as crap as he had done the last time I'd seen him. His face was still a pale white colour, starting to make him look weaker and weaker by the day.

Dean nodded, the smile holding on his face. "I'm just great," He answered, half sarcasm, half trying to be serious. The pain came through in his voice, however much he tried to hide it, he was obviously in some serious discomfort. "So, are we leaving or what?" He pushed, getting to his feet with a small groan. I took a step towards him and held out an arm towards him, for a second thinking that he was going to fall over.

"Dean," I pressed, looking him up and down slowly. "I'm not so sure this is a good idea, I mean, are you sure you're well enough for this?"

He just looked at me, raising his eyebrows briefly as I realised what I'd said. Obviously he wasn't well enough, the guy was dying, but his face softened, a small smile replacing the smirk. "I'm fine, Maxie." He assured. "Trust me." He didn't sound all that convinced by his own words, but he clearly wasn't accepting no for an answer. I sighed in defeat and grabbed his duffel bag from the side of his bed before leading the way to the door.

---

30 Minutes Later

I gave a short sigh as I came to a stop at some red lights, giving a short glance towards Dean before returning my eyes to the road. There was a tense silence in the car, something that was pretty unusual for us, we normally never had an issue taking to each other. But there was something about the whole situation, something that felt so wrong, neither of us really knew how to approach it. "What's Sam up to?" Dean eventually broke the silence, glancing over at me and raising an eyebrow. "Haven't seen much of him." There was a note of concern in his words, like he already had a good idea of the answer but he wanted me to tell him something different.

I cleared my throat, shaking my head. What was I supposed to say to that? Oh yeah, he meant to come see you but he's been a little busy excessively reading books to find a way to stop you from dying. That'd make him feel great. I started the car again and gave a small shrug. "He's, you know, researching." I said nonchalantly. "The usual." I glanced over at him and gave a small smile, hoping he'd leave it at that, work it out for himself and not ask me anything else about it. Which, for once, he did. That wasn't like him. Usually he'd have wanted to know every detail of anything going on with Sam, but he didn't seem to have the energy in him anymore.

By the time we were within a couple of feet of the door, he moved his arm from around my shoulders, leaning against the side of the door, like he didn't want Sam to think he needed any help. I raised an eyebrow at him, getting nothing more than a small smirk in response from him. I pushed open the door and walked inside first, holding it open as Dean walked inside before closing it behind us. He stumbled into the room, leaning on everything within reach for support as he did. Sam's eyes went wide as he quickly got to his feet. He looked a mixture of shocked, happy, confused, and pissed, all at once. "What the hell are you doing here?" He pressed urgently, the surprise remaining clear in his words.

Dean gave a slight shrug, holding himself up by the edge of the dresser, a small smirk playing on his face. "I checked myself out." He muttered, not looking at all bothered about it.

"What, are you crazy?" Sam exclaimed, looking from him to me, nothing but accusation on his face. I shot him a look, like for once the whole idea hadn't been mine.

"Well," Dean began, remaining calm as he gave Sam another smile. "I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot." He quipped.

Sam huffed a laugh and shook his head at him slowly, giving him a knowing look. "You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-death thing? It's crap." He muttered. "I can see right through it."

Dean just rolled his eyes at him. "Yeah, whatever, dude." He mumbled. "Have you even slept? You look worse than me."

Sam shook his head as he helped Dean to a chair. "I've been scouring the Internet for the last three days." He answered quickly. "Calling every contact in Dad's journal."

Dean frowned, looking from Sam to me and back again. "For what?" He pressed hesitantly, like he didn't really want to know the answer.

Sam looked at him like he was crazy. "For a way to help you." He stated, like it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. "One of Dad's friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist."

Dean gave a light sigh, looking up at him and raising an eyebrow. "You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you?" He muttered.

Sam smiled. "I'm not gonna let you die, period." He countered. "We're going."

---

The Next Day, 9:45AM.

"Take the next left." Sam spoke up from the backseat, his tone blunt, his eyes never leaving the map open on his phone. "We're here." He added, looking out of the window and off in the distance somewhere. The Impala bumped along the rutted gravel road and through the mud as I drove towards the large white tent, set up in the middle of a field. Apart from the house beside it, the place seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. There were people making their way towards the tent, many of them on walking frames, crutches or being helped by someone else. The whole scene was mildly depressing, the thought that so many people were ill, or even dying, and were so desperate for help there was a big chance they wouldn't get. I exchanged a look with Dean before the three of us made a move to get out of the car, stepping out into the deep, dank mud beneath us. Sam almost immediately ran around the back of the car to Dean as he opened the door and looked around skeptically. I raised my eyebrow at a sign to the side of the road, the same thing Dean seemed to be looking at. 'The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle.'

The second I'd read it, I knew Dean wasn't going to be happy. And so did Sam. That was the reason he hadn't specifically said where we were going. Dean gave a short grimace as he made a move to get out of the car, Sam reaching out an arm to him. "I got ya." He muttered, attempting to pull him from the car.

"I got it." Dean snapped, pushing him away from him, sounding as though he was getting angry. "Man, you are a lying bastard." He said flatly, slamming the car door closed behind himself and looking around the muddy field slowly. "Thought you said we were going to see a doctor." He complained.

Sam gave a small, innocent shrug. "I believe I said a specialist." He countered. "Look, Dean, this guy's supposed to be the real deal." He reasoned, his voice remaining completely calm, despite Dean's obvious frustration.

Dean just shook his head, looking anything but convinced. "I can't believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent." He denounced loudly.

An elderly woman paused for a second at Dean's words, turning to look at him as she passed. "Reverend LeGrange is a great man." She commented simply before she continued on her way.

Dean just looked on in disbelief. "Yeah, that's nice." He muttered after her.

Sam sighed and began heading in the same direction, hesitantly followed by me and Dean. As we came closer to the tent, there was the sound of a man shouting. We turned to see an angry-looking man remonstrating with a cop, looking nothing but determined to get across whatever point he had. "I have a right to protest." He said loudly, pushing back against the cop's attempts to calm him. "This man is a fraud. And he's milking all these people out of their hard-earned money." He went on, looking between the different people around him briefly.

The cop didn't seem all that bothered about the situation, something that gave me the impression the guy was a regular attendee. "Sir, this is a place of worship." He said bluntly. "Let's go, move it." He pushed him forwards, making an effort to lead him away from the tent.

Dean watched after them and raised his eyebrows. "I take it he's not part of the flock." He stated sarcastically, turning and continuing to walk.

Sam shrugged. "But when people see something they can't explain, there's controversy."

Dean remained completely skeptical on the whole situation, shaking his head slowly at Sam. "I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer?" He protested in dubiety.

"Maybe it's time to have a little faith, Dean." Sam retorted, his voice light.

Dean shook his head again, a frown forming on his face. "You know what I've got faith in?" He pushed. "Reality. Knowing what's really going on."

Sam thought about his answer, looking down at him curiously. "How can you be a skeptic?" He pressed. "With the things we see everyday?"

"Exactly." Dean exclaimed. "We see them, we know there real."

Sam sighed. "But if you know evil's out there, how can you not believe good's out there, too?"

"Because I've seen what evil does to good people." Dean argued.

"Maybe God works in mysterious ways." Before Dean had a chance to say another word, the light voice cut him off. We all turned to see a young, blonde haired woman standing behind us, obviously having overheard Sam and Dean's conversation. She was pretty, which Dean clearly agreed on as he wasted no time in shamelessly checking her out.

Dean smirked, looking her up and down slowly. "Maybe he does." He grinned. "I think you just turned me around on the subject." She gave a small laugh, nodding at him slowly. "I'm Dean." He said, holding out a hand to her. "This is Max, and Sam."

The woman gave a smile as she looked between us, taking Dean's hand and shaking it. "Layla." She introduced herself. "So, if you're not a believer, then why are you here?" She pressed, narrowing her eyes slightly at him.

Dean just shrugged. "Well, apparently our brother here believes enough for the three of us." He answered sarcastically.

An older woman approached her from behind and placed an arm around her shoulders. "Come on, Layla," She said quietly. "It's about to start." They both smiled at us before they turned and headed off towards the tent.

Dean looked after Layla, the smirk holding on his face. "Well, I bet you she can work in some mysterious ways." He commented. I gave a short laugh, Sam only shaking his head before he began heading in the same way as they had gone. I looked over a sign in the entrance to the tent as we passed, 'Welcome All Faiths. True Believers Revival.'

Dean seemed to notice it too, looking down at me and rolling his eyes. I offered up a small smile, indicating something along the lines of 'let's just do it for Sam,' as we walked inside. Dean and I were clearly both as pessimistic of the whole situation as each other, as far as I was concerned, there was no God, there were no higher powers, no angels, no heaven, no good spirits in the world. All I had ever seen in this job over the past twenty-two years had been complete evil. The amount of good people I'd seen get hurt over the years, people who had been lifelong members of churches, people from every faith out there, so many good people were killed by the evil in this world every single day, I found it almost impossible to believe in anything along the lines of a faith healer. But then, that was something I had always admired about Sam. The ability he had to find hope in any situation, the way he just wouldn't accept anything until he was a million percent sure that he had done everything in his power to change it. It was a motivation that I had never had.

The three of us headed through the entrance to the tent, coming to a stop at the back and looking around the spacious room slowly. There were rows of chairs set up at both sides, a small stage with a lectern on it at the front. Dean scoffed beside me, tilting his head in the direction of the corner. "Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over." He muttered. I followed his eyes to the security camera fixed up at the corner of the tent, huffing a laugh.

Sam just shook his head at us. "Come on." He mumbled, taking Dean's elbow and making a move towards the front.

Dean pulled his arm free from him. "Don't." He said quickly. "What are you doing? Let's sit here." He argued, moving towards the row of the seats nearer to the back of the tent.

"We're sitting up front." Sam said bluntly. "Come on." He took a hold of Dean's arm again and began moving up the aisle.

"What? Why?" Dean retorted, not getting an answer from Sam as he continued making his way to the front. "Oh, come on, Sam." He practically growled at him. "This is ridiculous." He snapped, slapping Sam's hands away from him. "I'm good, dude, get off me."

Sam let out a frustrated sigh and released him, gesturing to three empty seats a couple of rows from the front of the stage. "Perfect." Sam stated simply.

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, perfect." He muttered sarcastically as he made a move to sit down, only to be grabbed around the arm by Sam.

"You take the aisle." He said flatly, moving around him to sit down, followed by me.

For a second, I thought that Sam was going to make an attempt in helping Dean to sit down, but he seemed to reconsider his actions as Dean raised a hand irritably to stop him, giving him a death glare as if to warn him not to even try it. Sam shot him a bitchface before dropping down into his chair beside me.

On stage, a blind man wearing dark sunglasses headed up to the lectern, helped there by a woman. "Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann," He gestured to the woman beside him as he spoke. "She reads me the news." He began simply. "Never seems good, does it?" Everyone around us seemed to make some noise of agreement with him. "Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act." He went on. As he spoke, Sam elbowed me in the arm, nodding over to a table onstage, the top of it covered with religious items. I raised an eyebrow, not catching onto what he was talking about, until I noticed an old, wooden cross that was topped by a smaller cross in a circle. I got what he meant, I'd seen it somewhere before, but I couldn't think where. I shook my head cluelessly before going back to paying attention to the guy on stage. "But, I say to you, God is watching." He said brightly. The crowd around us gave another murmur of agreement, nodding along with him. "God rewards the good, and he punishes the corrupt. It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts."

"Yeah," Dean muttered to me, his voice low. "And into their wallets."

I was about to laugh when the room fell silent at his words. "You think so, young man?" The man on stage said, facing down at him and raising his eyebrows slightly. I supressed a small smile, trust Dean to do something like that.

Dean looked nothing but stunned that the guy had even heard him. "Uh, sorry." He muttered, looking around awkwardly.

The man smiled at him. "No, no, don't be." He said lightly. "Just watch what you say around a blind man, we've got real sharp ears." He quipped, the crowd once again laughing along with him. "What's your name, son?" He asked curiously.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, Dean." He answered.

"Dean." The man repeated, nodding to himself slowly as he thought it over. "I want - I want you to come up here with me." He smiled, holding out an arm.

The entire crowd around us began to clap, all except Layla and her Mom in front of us, who I noticed didn't move at all. Roy's wife moved to the centre of the stage, smiling down at Dean brightly. He looked around slowly, seeming to be feeling more and more awkward by the second. "No, it's, uh, it's okay." He muttered lamely.

"What are you doing?" Sam snapped, his voice a sharp whisper.

"You've come here to be healed, haven't ya?" Roy pressed.

Dean looked down at me, like I was supposed to give him some kind of help, but realistically, I was about as clueless right then as he was. He hesitated with an answer, giving a small shrug. "Well, yeah, but, ah.." He trailed off, clearly not having an answer. The crowd around us became louder, clapping and making encouraging sounds. "Maybe you should just pick someone else." He pushed, raising his voice over the growing noise from the many people in the room.

Sam looked across me at Dean like he was completely insane, nodding up at Roy as the crowd continued to clap. "Oh, no, I didn't pick you, Dean." Roy announced enthusiastically. "The Lord did."

The crowd around us cheered louder and louder, gradually becoming more and more excited. "Get up there!" Sam encouraged him, a brightness in his voice that I hadn't heard since before we had first spoken to Dean's doctor a few days earlier. The sense of hope seemed to be fully alive in him, the spark in his eyes willing him to do it.

Dean looked away from Sam's determined face and down to me, raising an eyebrow. "Max?" He pressed, clearly thinking I was about to get him out of it. There was an uneasy frown on his face, I could see he really didn't want to go through with whatever this was.

I sighed and looked around us, giving him a small shrug. "What've you got to lose?" I muttered, not seeing another option for him, and I was starting to get a little curious about the whole situation myself.

Dean reluctantly rose from the chair and took a step into the aisle. Roy's wife, Sue Ann, moved down the steps to get him and took him up on stage, standing him up in front of Roy. "You ready?" I heard Roy ask him over the sounds of the crowd.

Dean looked around slowly, shaking his head. "Look, no disrespect, but, ah, I'm not exactly a believer." He protested.

Roy just smiled at him. "You will be, son." He assured slowly. "You will be." He turned away from Dean to face the crowd for a brief second. "Pray with me, friends." He urged. I looked around us as the many people simultaneously raised their arms up in the air and joined hands with each other. Roy also lifted his hands to the air, holding them there for a few seconds before he slowly brought one down and placed it on Dean's shoulder, before moving it to the side of his head. "Alright," Roy said, seemingly to himself. "Alright, now." I looked from him to Dean as what little colour he had left in him drained from his face. His eyes glazed over before his knees seemed to weaken and give out as he sank to the floor, kneeling in front of Roy, whose hand remained fixed on his head. "Alright, now." He said again.

Dean wobbled, his eyes rolling back in his head as he slipped and fell to the stage floor. Anything that had been holding me back from going up there was gone as I jumped from the seat and ran towards the stage, pushing myself up and kneeling down beside him. The crowd clapped more and more excitedly, seemingly having been expecting it to happen. "Dean?!" I yelled, grabbing the front of his hoodie and looking over him frantically. The amount of horrible, wrenching thoughts that ran through my head at that point were uncountable. "Dean?!" I pressed again, giving him a small shake as the panic began to take over.

At that, his eyes snapped open as he woke with a sharp gasp of air. Sam reached to him from behind me and grabbed his arm. "Dean?!" He pushed, but Dean didn't seem at all with it. He blinked and groggily looked off somewhere behind us. I frowned and turned, following the direction of his eyes but seeing nothing. Roy was still standing above us, hands out from his sides, palms up, looking nothing but satisfied with his work. "Say something!" Sam urged him, his voice desperate. Dean opened and closed his mouth, as if whatever had just happened to him had stunned him into silence.

---

Fifteen Minutes Later

I walked out of the tent and looked around the muddy field slowly, taking a few seconds before I saw Dean leaning against the trunk of the Impala, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. Up until that point, I'd been just as skeptical about the whole situation as he had been, but there he was, standing in front of me and looking nothing but healthy. The colour had returned to his face, the deep, dark black circles beneath his eyes now faded. He looked like Dean again. "You alright, bro?" I asked him as I walked closer, noticing the look on his face. There was a small concerned frown, mixed up with something that looked like both confusion and guilt. He shook his head slowly, his eyes remaining focused nowhere but the muddy ground between us, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before sighing, seeming to give up his search of an answer. "Dean?" I pressed, worry rising in my chest. He only ever got that look when something was truly weighing on his mind, something that he couldn't manage to just shake off.

"I don't know, Maxie." He eventually answered, his voice slow and quiet. There was a genuine feeling of honesty in his words. He looked hesitant to continue, looking around us slowly at the different people still leaving the place. "Something doesn't feel right, deep down," He paused and shook his head. "Something's wrong." He admitted, sounding all too convinced about it. For a second I'd thought he'd meant his health, thinking that maybe it was all just a fluke and he hadn't been healed at all. But there was something in his face, like he knew better, and what he knew was seriously troubling him.

I nodded slowly. He looked way too sure about whatever it was for us not to check it out. "We'll figure it out, okay?" I replied simply, leaning against the car next to him and folding my arms over my chest. Neither of us said anything for a few seconds before I looked up at him seriously. We'd come so close to loosing him, and I'd spent so much of the last few days thinking of the morbid thoughts of him dying, I wasn't sure whether I felt more relieved or amazed that he was okay again. It didn't seem to have sunk in that he was going to live, he wasn't going to be gone in a week, or even two. He was going to be fine. I knew that. But the underlying note of fear wouldn't go away, and I couldn't understand why. There was something about the whole thing, maybe whatever Dean had been getting at, maybe something else, but something definitely seemed weird about it. "I'm, uh, I'm glad you're okay, Dean." I admitted quietly. He looked down at me, looking me straight in the eyes for a few seconds, before he gave a small smile.

---

One Hour Later, Hospital.

I let out a short breath through the tense silence in the small hospital room, looking from Dean, who was sitting on the examination bed, to Sam, who was pacing around in small circles. "So, you really feel okay?" He asked Dean for what felt like the millionth time since he had been healed.

Dean nodded. "I feel fine, Sam." He muttered, looking unhappy about the whole thing.

The Doctor entered the room again, giving a small smile as she looked over the paperwork in her hands. "Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart." She announced brightly. "No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble." She shrugged. "But, still, it's strange it does happen." She added.

Dean frowned at her. "What do you mean, strange?" He pressed curiously.

"Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack." She said remorsefully.

Dean nodded slowly. "Thanks, Doc." He mumbled, seeming deep in thought about her words. The Doctor nodded and smiled again before she walked out and closed the door, leaving the three of us alone again. "That's odd." Dean commented simply, looking up at Sam.

Sam shrugged, not looking all that concerned about it. "Maybe it's a coincidence." He suggested. "People's hearts give out all the time, man."

Dean shook his head. "No, they don't." He replied bluntly.

Sam sighed. "Look, Dean, do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life and move on?"

"Because, I can't shake this feeling," Dean snapped. "That's why." Sam frowned at him, clearly not following. "When I was healed, I just," He paused for a second and shook his head slowly. "I felt wrong. I felt cold. And for a second.. I saw someone." Sam and I both looked at him, refusing to face either of us as he spoke. "This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, it was a spirit."

That was enough for me, at the words 'I saw someone', I would've taken it as a case, but Sam didn't seem convinced. "But if there was something there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too." He reasoned. "I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately."

Dean scoffed. "Well, excuse me, psychic wonder." He retorted. "But you're just gonna need a little faith on this one." Sam just looked at him. "Sam, I've been hunting long enough to trust a feeling like this."

Sam gave a deep sigh. "Yeah, alright," He nodded. "So, what do you wanna do?" He asked.

"I want you to go check out the heart attack guy." He said simply. "Max and I are gonna visit the reverend."

---

Roy LeGrange's House, One Hour Later.

Dean and I sat beside each other on the small couch in the living room, while Roy sat in the chair facing it. His wife poured us a glass of juice, looking between us with a wide smile. Dean was clearly still confused about the whole situation, we all were, but there was something that he just couldn't let go of, something telling him how wrong everything was. And on instinct, I was trusting him, going along with it, but I wasn't all that sure I wanted to find out what had really happened. There was a fear that something was going to go wrong, that maybe, if Dean's instinct was right and there was something going on, that he might end up in a worse situation than he had been in before. "I feel great," Dean was saying to Roy, I could tell that he was trying to keep his voice steady, not to let any uncertainty seep through into his words. "Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened."

Sue Ann smiled at him, breaking a grin. "A miracle is what happened." She proclaimed enthusiastically. "Well, miracles come so often around Roy."

Dean gave a small nod, forcing up a smile. "When did they start?" He asked, turning towards Roy. "The miracles."

"Woke up one morning, stone blind." He answered simply. "Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month." He seemed unphased by his words, not like he thought back on it as a bad thing to happen. "So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'You just keep right on praying.' I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone." He took off his sunglasses, revealing his pale white eyes. "If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it."

"And suddenly you could heal people." I pressed curiously.

Roy nodded. "I discovered it afterward, yes." He answered. "God's blessed me in many ways."

Sue ann smiled in agreement with him. "And his flock just swelled overnight." She beamed. "And this is just the beginning."

Dean gave another small nod. "Can I ask you one last question?" He pressed slowly.

Roy smiled. "Of course you can."

"Why?" Dean looked up to him, genuinely interested. "Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?" There was a sadness in his voice, as though he didn't think that he had deserved to be saved.

"Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me." He answered. "I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest."

Dean frowned. "What did you see in my heart?" He pushed.

"A young man with an important purpose." He answered simply. "A job to do." He smiled slightly, a knowing look on his face. "And it isn't finished."

Dean looked from him to me, seeming to be nothing but surprised by his words. There was a look in his face, something that resembled a mix of skepticism and confusion. "Well, uh, thanks." He said lightly, giving me a small nudge in the arm as he got to his feet. They both nodded at us, Sue Ann showing us to the door as we left the house.

I followed him out of the door and out onto the porch steps, seeing that Layla and her mom were standing outside and waiting to go into the house. "Dean, Max, hey." Layla smiled as she looked between us. "How you feeling?" She asked, looking towards Dean.

Dean gave a small shrug. "I feel good." He answered. "Cured, I guess.. What are you doing here?"

She looked down uncomfortably, like she wasn't all that keen on telling us. "You know, my mom, she wanted to talk to the reverend." She said slowly.

The door opened again behind us. "Layla?" Sue Ann's voice sounded as she walked out onto the porch. "I'm sorry, but Roy is resting. He won't be seeing anyone else right now."

"Sue Ann, please." Her mom insisted, looking a little desperate. "This is our sixth time, he's got to see us."

Sue Ann shook her head. "Roy is well aware of Layla's situation." She answered softly. "And he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke." She gave a short look between them before turning back to the house and closing the door behind herself, leaving the four of us alone.

Layla's mom turned to look at me, and then to Dean, a frown forming in her features. "Why are you still even here?" She snapped in frustration. "You got what you wanted."

I raised an eyebrow, not following at all. Layla gave a sympathetic smile to her mom and sighed. "Mom, stop." She pressed, her voice remaining calm.

Her mom shook her head. "No, Layla, this is too much. We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you." She turned to us again, looking us both up and down. "Strangers who don't even believe." She sighed in desperation. "I just can't pray any harder."

Dean tilted his head to the side and looked between them. "Layla, what's wrong?" He pressed.

She looked down again, hesitant to answer. "I have this thing.." She trailed off, like she didn't want to say anymore.

"It's a brain tumor." Her mom finished for her. "It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say." Her voice wavered slightly, clearly becoming upset. Layla rested a hand on her arm to stop her, giving a weak smile.

Dean shook his head. "I'm sorry." He muttered, his voice remorseful.

Layla gave us a small, forced smile. "It's okay." She answered quietly.

Her mom placed a hand on her shoulder, looking her straight in the eyes for a few seconds. "No, it isn't." She eventually answered, her voice small. She turned to face Dean, looking him hard in the face. "Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?" She asked him, her tone harsh.

Dean looked genuinely taken aback by that comment, even hurt. "Alright, lady, that's enough." I warned, taking a step forwards. I got that she was probably going through a lot, it was probably hell for her - but there was no need to take it out on Dean. Like he needed anyone to add fuel to the fire of his self-induced guilt trip. She looked me straight in the face, for a minute I thought she was going to fight me on it, but then she turned and walked away down the stairs without another word. Layla let out a shaky breath before following her, not looking back at either of us.

I sighed, watching them go, before shaking my head slowly. "Come on." Dean said quietly, resting a hand on my shoulder before leading the way back to the Impala.

---

Motel Room.

Dean headed into the room first, tossing his car keys aside to the table and pulling off his jacket. I followed him inside and closed the door behind myself, walking inside and taking a seat on the bed opposite the one Sam was currently occupying. He had his laptop open in front of him, a small frown on his face as he looked between us slowly. "What'd you find out?" Dean asked him casually, not seeming to have noticed the uncomfortable look on his face.

Sam's eyes fell to the floor, not looking at Dean, seeming hesitant with his answer. "I'm sorry." He said quietly, remorse and guilt coating his words.

Dean frowned at him, throwing his jacket down on the bed and walking further into the room. "Sorry about what?" He pressed curiously.

Sam sighed. "Marshall Hall died at 4:17." He answered, his voice low. He didn't look at Dean as he spoke, almost as though he couldn't face him.

Dean blinked, taking a step further into the room and thinking it over for a few seconds. "The exact time I was healed." He commented, looking stunned at the news.

Sam gave a short nod. "Yeah," He mumbled. "So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits. Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time." Dean slowly moved to sit down on the edge of the bed beside me as he spoke.

I looked up at Sam and raised an eyebrow. "So, someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?"

Sam nodded again. "Yeah, somehow. LeGrange.. he's trading a life for another."

I shook my head, glancing cautiously towards Dean, seeing why Sam had been so hesitant to tell him the truth. I watched as he worked through it in his head. "Wait, wait, wait." It suddenly seemed to hit him. "So, Marshall Hall died to save me?"

Sam looked down again, he looked genuinely upset. "Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway." He reasoned. "And someone else would've been healed."

Dean moved to his feet again, running a hand down his face as he turned his back on us and took a couple of steps across the room. "You never should have brought me here." He muttered, turning to Sam accusingly.

Sam shook his head. "Dean, I was just trying to save your life." He replied, his voice sad.

"But, Sam, some guy is dead now because of me." He snapped, clearly becoming more and more riled up about the situation as he thought more into it. Dean never did well with guilt. Anytime it came to something that he could be blamed for, he turned it on himself and took it, whether it was actually his fault or not.

"Dean," I pressed, my voice remaining calm. "Calm down, alright?" Dean turned to me, a frown on his face. "He didn't know."

Dean shook his head. "Max, this guy is dead, because of me." He answered bluntly. "The guy probably had a family, you know, he-"

"Dean." I cut him off before he had the chance to go further into the track of self blame. "Listen to me, that doesn't make this your fault, okay?" Dean looked down at me dubiously, the small and guilt ridden frown holding on his face. He opened his mouth to answer, but seemed to think against it, shaking his head to himself. I looked back to Sam, who looked to be feeling just about as guilty as Dean did. "I don't get it," I muttered, thinking up anything I could that was going to take the subject away from who's fault it was. "How's Roy doing it?" I asked Sam. "How's he trading a life for a life?"

Dean turned back to look at us. "Oh, he's not doing it." He responded slowly. "Something else is doing it for him." Sam frowned in confusion, looking from me to Dean and giving a small shake of his head. I looked up at him, searching his face for an answer. "The old man I said I'd seen up on stage, I didn't wanna believe it, but deep down I knew. There's only one thing that can give and take life like that." I raised my eyebrows at him, neither Sam or me having a clue what he was talking about. "We're dealing with a reaper."

"A reaper?" Sam repeated slowly. "You mean like the grim reaper?" He pressed, sounding almost skeptical at the thought. "Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?"

"No, no, no," Dean shook his head at him. "Not the reaper, a reaper." He clarified, moving towards his duffel bag and taking out Dad's journal, flipping it open to a page somewhere in the middle as he spoke. "There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names, it's possible that there's more than one of them."

Sam frowned at him. "But you said you saw a dude in a suit." He went on, not sounding totally convinced.

"What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?" Dean quipped. "You said it yourself that the clock stopped right?" He pointed down to a paragraph in the journal which indicated the same thing. "Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you couldn't."

Sam gave a small shrug. "Maybe." He muttered.

Dean sighed in slight frustration. "There's nothing else it could be Sam." He said flatly. "The question is how is Roy controlling the damn thing?"

Sam suddenly looked up at me, something seeming to hit him all at once. "That cross." He stated. I raised an eyebrow, not sure what he was talking about. "In the church." I thought back, nodding as it came back to me.

Dean looked between us slowly, like he was clearly missing something. "What?" He pressed.

"There was this cross," Sam told him, looking through a few papers in the back of Dad's journal. "I noticed it in the church, I knew I'd seen it somewhere before." He pulled out an old card from the back and held it up to us. "Here."

Dean leaned forwards to take the card from him, looking from the card to me and back to Sam. "A tarot?" He questioned, obviously not following.

Sam nodded. "It makes sense. A tarot dates back to the early christian era right, when some priests were still using magic?" Dean and I both nodded along with him. "And a few of them veered into the dark stuff? Necromancy and how to push death away, how to cause it?" He sighed and looked back to the card. "So, if Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper, he's pretty much riding the whirlwind. I mean, it's like putting a dog leash on a great white."

Dean gave a brief sigh and pulled a hand down his face. "Okay," He said calmly. "So, then we stop Roy." He answered simply.

Sam frowned. "How?"

Dean just looked at him. "You know how." He countered.

Sam frowned, looking genuinely unsure of what he meant before the frown faded to one of suspicion and disbelief. "Wait, what the hell are you talking about, Dean?" He shook his head. "We can't kill Roy."

Dean got to his feet and shrugged, not seeming to think that much of it. "Sam, the guy is playing God. He's deciding who lives and who dies." He reasoned. "That's a monster in my book."

Sam shook his head again. "No. We're not going to kill a human being Dean." He argued. "We do that we're no better than he is."

He didn't look happy about it, but Dean nodded at him anyway. "Okay," He gave in. "We can't kill Roy, we can't kill death - any bright ideas, college boy?" He pushed.

Sam thought it for a few seconds and nodded. "Okay, uh, if Roy's using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta figure out what it is." He said simply. "And then how to break it."

I sighed, that meant more research. Honestly, I was with Dean on this one. I would've just killed him and had done with it. That seemed the most efficient way of doing things, the way that would solve the whole thing, but Sam never saw it that way. He thought things through more than me or Dean would, he always had done, rather than using the whole shoot first and ask questions later approach. But those years hunting with Dad, while Sam had been at college, that had been the attitude we'd adapted.

---

The Next Morning.

Dean drove up the familiar muddy, badly gravelled and potholed road towards the tent, passing a sign that read 'Service Today', as he did. He pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine, the three of us climbing out of the car without saying a word to each other. Sam closed the car door behind him and took a couple of steps up the road. "If Roy's using a spell, there might be a spell book." He suggested.

Dean nodded. "Alright, you two see if you can find it." He said, glancing down at his watch. "You better hurry up, the service starts in fifteen minutes." He added hastily. "I'll try to stall Roy."

Sam and I nodded in agreement with him, turning and taking off up the road towards the house and the tent. The man who had been protesting before was once again there. He held out a leaflet to us as we approached him. "Roy LeGrange is a fraud." He pressed. "He's no healer!"

Dean took the leaflet from him and nodded. "Amen, brother." He agreed brightly.

Sam nodded, patting him on the shoulder as we passed him. "You keep up the good work."

The man smiled. "Thank you." He called after us.

Dean turned off the road and headed over towards the entrance to the tent, leaving Sam and me to take the house. We watched as Roy came down the stairs of the porch, assisted by Sue Ann on one arm and a dark-haired man on his other side. We watched them leave the house from around the corner of the porch and waited until they were halfway towards the tent before we made a move.

I followed Sam's lead as he climbed through a window and into one of the rooms. "Come on." He said quietly, leading the way out of the room like he knew where he was going. I followed him down some stairs to their basement and headed through an old wooden door. There were filled bookshelves lining one of the walls, hundreds of different books covering the shelves. We seemed to have the same idea, looking over the different shelves slowly before Sam found something. "Hey." He called. I turned back and followed his gaze to where there was a dust free part of the shelf, only the space in front of one book clear. He pulled it out and raised an eyebrow at the title, 'Encyclopedia of British History.' He flipped through it, finding nothing that was remotely interesting to him, before narrowing his eyes and looking back to the shelf, realising that there was another, smaller book, hidden behind it. He pulled it out and opened it up to the picture of a skeleton reaper, and on the page across a picture of the wooden cross we had seen earlier in the church tent.

Frowning to himself, he pulled out the newspaper articles of the people who had died, including Marshall Hall, the one who had died to save Dean. He unfolded it and showed the headline. He had been an openly gay teacher. "Hardly immoral when you think about it." I muttered, shaking my head. "I mean, nothing worth being sacrificed over, is it?"

Sam shook his head and unfolded another one, showing that the woman who had died to save the person healed before Dean had been an abortion rights advocate. There was a third photo, that one of the man who we had just passed handing leaflets out in front of the tent. "We need to call Dean." He said simply, handing me the book and papers as he pulled out his phone, scrolling down to Dean's number before holding it to his ear and waiting a few seconds for him to answer. "Roy's choosing victims he sees as immoral." He said to him. "And I think I know who's next on his list. Remember that protestor? The one from the parking lot?" He paused for a few seconds again. "Yeah, Max and I will find him, but you can't let Roy heal anyone, alright?" He said before hanging up the phone and shoving it back into his jacket pocket. "Alright, come on." He pressed urgently, leading the way towards the door.

We ran out into the muddy parking lot and looked around slowly, neither of us seeing him anywhere. The parking lot was quiet, not many people around since the service seemed to have already started. There was a loud bang from somewhere behind us, like the sound of someone running full force into a car, followed by someone shouting for help. Sam and I turned at the sound, running towards the direction it had come from. The man ran around from the back of one of the cars, almost crashing straight into me. "Help!" He looked around himself frantically, a panicked look in his eyes. "Help me, please!"

Sam looked around behind him. "Where is he?!" He pressed urgently.

The man grabbed a hold of Sam's shoulder and pointed off behind us. "Right there!" He yelled. Sam and I whipped around to look, seeing nothing.

"Alright," Sam grabbed him around the arm and pulled him away. "Come on!"

We ran to the other side of the parking lot, the guy standing between us looking around slowly, seeming to have calmed down a little, I guessed that meant he couldn't see him. I noticed him jump a little at the sound of my phone ringing from my back pocket. I pulled it out and answered it. "I did it," Dean's voice said before I had a chance to say anything. "I stopped Roy."

I glanced around, nothing seemed to be happening. It looked as though it had worked. "Hey, I think it's okay." I said slowly.

The guy between us looked around and nodded, seeming completely calm again. He turned back to Sam, almost jumping backwards at the sight of something we couldn't see. "No!" He yelled, his eyes wide, as though there was something standing straight in front of him.

I returned the phone to my ear. "Dean, it didn't work, the reaper's still coming. Roy must not be controlling this thing!" Dean didn't give an answer, unsure of whether he hadn't been listening or whether he just didn't respond. I sighed and hung up the phone, returning it to the back pocket of my jeans. "I'll go check it out, Sam, stay with him, alright?"

Sam nodded at me. "Be careful." He called after me.

I turned and sprinted through the thick mud towards the entrance to the tent, the slutch and puddles splashing beneath my boots. I ran through the opening and looked around, immediately seeing Dean who was still talking on the phone with Sam. Before he'd even seen me, he suddenly turned around to face the altar at the front of the room, narrowing his eyes towards Sue Ann. I followed his gaze to her and moved forwards, she was facing the corner, her hands pulled up tightly to her chest, reciting something under her breath. Her eyes were closed in concentration, a determined frown set deep into her features as she spoke. Dean

Dean turned as I came closer to him, the two of us heading towards her quickly. He grabbed her around the shoulder and span her around to face us, a hard look on his face. As he did, Sue Ann gasped and stopped whatever it had been that she were reciting, reaching down and grabbing the cross and chain around her neck. I narrowed my eyes at it, the same cross as the wooden one Sam had pointed out on the altar that morning. She stared straight at us, her eyes wide, a panicked look on her face as she tucked the cross inside her blouse and out of sight. "Help!" She suddenly shouted, looking over our shoulders towards the entrance of the tent. "Help me!"

Dean took a step back from her, nodding to himself and glaring at her. I could see on his face, he was giving her a look that said he shouldn't have expected anything better from her. Before we had a chance to react to her, two cops grabbed Dean around the arms roughly and pulled him back from her, another one moving to grab me, pulling me along with them. The cops marched us up the aisle and manhandled us through the entrance. We managed to shake them off once we were outside again, Sue Ann following close behind us. She shook her head at us slowly, as though she were disappointed. "I just don't understand." She said simply. "After everything we've done for you. After Roy healed you, Dean." She exclaimed before turning to me. "After Roy saved your brother's life, Max." She stepped back from us and sighed deeply. Like, way overdramatic. "I'm just very disappointed in you both." The two of us just looked at her, probably thinking the exact same thing as each other, and said nothing. "You can let them go," She added, turning to face the officers. "I'm not going to press charges. The Lord will deal with them as he sees fit." She finished, giving us one final look before turning and heading back inside the tent.

The cops watched her go, the one who had first grabbed Dean turning to us. "We catch either of you around here again, we'll put the fear of God in you." He threatened, looking between us with a hard glare. "Understand?"

I gave a short nod, not thinking all that much of it. "Yes, sir." Dean enthused. "Fear of God, got it." He muttered, shooting them a sarcastic smile. The cop gave Dean one last push before turning to the others and walking away from us. We turned to leave, finding Layla standing behind us. "Layla?" Dean looked down at her, seeming mildly surprised to see her there.

She looked at him, a confused and defeated look in her eyes. "Why would you do that Dean?" She pressed quietly. "And it could have been my only chance."

Dean opened and closed his mouth, apparently lost for an answer. "Layla," I tried, keeping my voice low, trying to sound understanding. "He's not a healer."

"He healed your brother." She countered.

Dean sighed. "I know it doesn't seem fair, and I wish I could explain. But Roy is not the answer, I'm sorry."

Layla shook her head sadly, looking almost let down. "Goodbye, Dean, Max." She muttered before turning and taking a couple of steps away before turning back to look at Dean. "I wish you luck, Dean, I really do."

Dean nodded. "Same to you." He replied, his voice filled with sadness and remorse. Layla turned and headed off in the direction of the road, never looking back. "You deserve it a lot more than me." Dean muttered under his breath, shaking his head to himself.

"Come on." I said to him softly, resting a hand at the top of his back and managing a weak smile before we turned to head back to Sam. I got that it must have hurt for him. The way Dean's mind worked, he was only thinking one thing at that point. That if Roy had picked her instead of him the first time, she would have been okay right now. And deep down, I thought he couldn't help but blame himself for things like that.

Sam walked towards us, glancing to his side as he did where Layla and her mom were talking to Roy and Sue Ann. He indicated in their direction with a quick nod of his head to the side. I listened in to what they were saying, picking up something that sounded along the lines of; "Private session tonight, no interruptions. I give you my word, I'll heal your daughter."

We headed past them to join Sam and all headed back to the Impala, acting as though we hadn't just overheard what we had.

---

Motel Room, 20 Minutes Later.

Sam dropped down onto the bed as Dean finished telling us what had happened in the tent with him. "So, Roy really believes?" He said sadly.

Dean nodded. "I don't think he has any idea what his wife's doing."

Sam thought it over for a couple of seconds. "Well, we found this." He held out the small, black book to him. Dean took it and opened it up, flipping through a few pages at random, not really looking at anything in particular. "It was hidden in their library, it's ancient. Written by a priest who went dark side. And, there's a binding spell in here for trapping a reaper." He explained. "Hell of a spell, I mean, you gotta build a black alter with seriously dark stuff. Bones, human blood. To cross a line like that, a preachers wife." He shook his head slowly. "Black magic.. Murder.. Evil."

"Desperate." Dean suddenly said, dropping the book to the table and looking at Sam. "Her husband was dying, she didn't have anything to save him. She was using the binding spell to keep the reaper away from Roy." He deducted. "It's cheating death, literally."

"Yeah, but Roy's alive." I said, looking between them. "So why is she still using the spell?"

"To force the reaper to kill the people she thinks are immoral." He shrugged. "Maybe she got a taste of black magic and thinks she has the right to start playing God." He added darkly.

Dean shook his head to himself. "May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work." He commented sarcastically.

Sam offered up a weak smile. "We gotta break that binding spell."

Dean nodded and looked back to the picture of the cross in the book. "You know, Sue Ann had a Coptic cross like this." He said thoughtfully, pointing at the page. "When she dropped it the reaper backed off."

Sam frowned. "So you think we gotta find the cross or destroy the altar?" He suggested.

Dean gave a small shrug. "Maybe both." He answered. "Whatever we do we better do it soon, or he's healing Layla tonight."

---

Church Tent Parking Lot, 10:45PM.

Dean pulled up the Impala, the headlights off, just down the road from the tent. He narrowed his eyes as he looked out of the front window, seeing a black car pulled up outside of Roy's house. "That's Layla's car." Sam said quietly. "She's already here."

Dean nodded slowly, a sadness in his face. "Yeah." He muttered halfheartedly.

Sam looked over him, knowing the same as I did what was going through his head. "Dean," He began, his voice soft.

"You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she'd be here right now." He said bluntly, something I thought he'd been waiting to get off his chest since he'd found out what had been going on. "And if she's not healed tonight she's gonna die in a couple of months."

Sam sighed. "Dean, what's happening to her is horrible. But what are you gonna do?" He pressed. "Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself, Dean, you can't play God."

Dean didn't say anything to him, just sat there silently for a few seconds before he climbed out of the car and closed the door behind himself quietly. Sam glanced back at me, a concerned frown on his face, before the two of us followed his lead and got out of the car. We approached the tent and looked inside, seeing Roy speaking to a small group of people who had been at the other church services, including Layla and her mom. "Where's Sue Ann?" Dean pressed, looking between them slowly.

I narrowed my eyes, not seeing her either. "House?" I suggested. Dean nodded, taking a step back and leading the way around to their house.

"Go find Sue Ann," Dean suddenly said. "I'll catch up." He muttered, pushing him away towards the road.

Sam frowned as Dean walked him backwards. "What are you gonna-" He suddenly stopped as he noticed whatever Dean had been getting at.

I turned and saw two of the cops from earlier walking down the porch steps of the house. "Hey!" Dean yelled over to them. They both looked over to him, obviously seeing me standing behind him. "You gonna put that fear of God in us?" He smirked. The two cops dropped the cups of coffee in their hands before running at us. Dean grabbed me around the wrist before pulling me along with him as he took off away from them.

We walked around the back of a van quietly, all too aware of the cops on the other side. "Now what, genius?" I muttered under my breath, looking up at him.

Dean seemed stuck for a second before his back hit something. He turned around, a grin spreading over his face at the sight of ladders leading to the roof of the van. "After you." He smirked. I shook my head and supressed a smirk as I climbed them, he never failed to think of options, I'd give him that. We climbed to the roof, both lying flat on our stomachs.

"You see 'em?" One of the cops voices sounded from the ground.

The other one paused, I assumed as he looked around, and sighed. "Nah." He muttered, followed by the sound of footsteps walking away through the thick mud.

I let out the deep breath I'd been holding in relief as we listened to the leaving. Dean let out a laugh and sat up a little to see. "Kinda like being back in high school, right?" He smirked at me.

I rolled my eyes and made a move to climb off of the roof. "Come on," I mumbled. "Let's get it over with."

We walked back in the direction of the tent when suddenly a couple of the lights above us went out. The two of us came to a stop, looking around slowly, watching as the line of lights of the path ahead went out one by one. Dean's hand gripped around my wrist, as though he was in fear of which one of us it was coming for. "Dean?" I went to say something, but the second I'd opened my mouth he convulsed violently, a sharp gasp of pain escaping him. "Dean?!" I grabbed him around the shoulders as he fell to his knees, struggling for his breath. "Dean, come on, don't you dare." I didn't even know which one of us I were really talking to. There were tears in my eyes at the sight of him like that, a pain in my chest and the all too familiar crushing feeling that this time he really was done for. The death grip he had on my wrist tightened as his face became paler and paler, something I knew was going to leave a bruise. "Dean!" I yelled. It was like watching something in slow motion, I didn't know what to do. There was nothing I could do. It was just happening. And all I could do was watch. Everything suddenly stopped as Dean fell forwards, his fall being stopped by his hands, coughing and gasping for his breath. "Are you alright?" I pressed urgently, my hands gripped to the front of his jacket.

Dean managed a small nod, stumbling to his feet again and blinking hard a couple of times. "I'm alright." He mumbled. He looked down at me, my eyes still wide, tears on my cheeks, a look of horror on my face. He seemed to notice and made a better attempt at smiling, putting an arm around my shoulders and giving me a small squeeze as we headed back towards the Impala. "Hey, Max?" He spoke up, his voice low.

"Yeah?" I glanced up at him, seeing the look on his face. "What is it?"

"We, uh, we did the right thing here, didn't we?" He asked, there was a sadness in his tone, a note of doubt.

I sighed, not all that sure myself. "Yeah," I answered, trying to sound like I truly meant it. "Yeah, we did."

Dean gave a short nod. "Doesn't feel like it." He mumbled.

Sam came to a stop at the car just as we approached it. "You guys alright?" He pressed, genuine concern in his words.

Dean shook his head at him slowly. "Hell of a week." He muttered.

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"Wait," I pressed, looking over him slowly. "What happened?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Sue Ann's dead. Reaper killed her." He said quietly. "Alright, come on, we should get going."

Dean and I both nodded, climbing into the Impala with him.

---

Okay, first off I'm so sorry that it has taken me this long to update, I've been so busy and so stressed out the past couple of weeks, I've had no time at all to write! :(
Anyway, thank you for the support and sticking with me, for the reviews and favourites and follows! And thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed!