A/N: It took me awhile to get an idea for this chapter, I guess I had a mini writer's block; otherwise I probably would have put up a chapter yesterday. What did you guys think about the part with Castiel in the last chapter? No one really said anything, just wondering if you guys thought it was realistic or not. Anyways, enjoy the latest installment!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or its characters. I do own this plotline.

It hadn't taken long for Sam to scrounge up a wheelchair, more like three minutes to be exact; Dean counted. Sam pushed the wheel chair up to Dean's bed, as close as possible so there would be minimal movement for Dean's comfort.

"Ready?" Sam questioned as he approached Dean who still looked a bit anxious.

"Sam, it's Sam right? I can't even move…" Dean rambled as he looked toward the wheelchair, trying to move his limbs with no luck.

"Don't worry, when we were little, you took care of me, and now I'm returning the favor." Sam answered as he helped Dean up and into the wheelchair. Sam was strolling him to the cafeteria, lost in thought. Neither of them minded the silence, which was unusual for Dean; but then again, Dean wasn't himself.

"Is it permanent?" Dean questioned warily. He couldn't bear the idea of someone taking care of him every second of the day for the rest of his life. He couldn't digest the idea of not being able to take a hot shower without help. He sighed; still depressed.

"The doctors don't know for sure, they think it might just be a temporary trauma induced paralysis, but they really won't know more until after a few weeks of physical therapy." Sam answered, trying to maintain his composure in front of his brother so he wouldn't worry.

In a few short minutes, they were at the cafeteria, and Sam pushed Dean up to the counter, picking up a tray so Dean could pick what he wanted. After Sam loaded the tray up with Dean's selections, he brought him over to a table in the corner of the room that way Dean could eat in peace without feeling like everyone was staring at him. Sam wheeled him up to the table, and set the tray down. He then took a seat besides Dean.

"Here," Sam said as he picked up the sandwich and brought it to Dean's mouth. Dean took a bite; frustration and anger surfacing on his features. He swallowed, and as Sam brought the sandwich up again, Dean shook his head no.

"Uh-uh." Dean answered stubbornly.

"Dean, c'mon, you need to eat, and you can't move, so take a damn bite, okay?" Sam answered, a little frustrated himself.

"No, I'm not a baby Sam, I'm a grown man, and I am not going to be fed like a damn baby, okay?" Dean retorted, raising his voice a little. Sam sighed and placed the sandwich on the tray.

"Fine, feed yourself, go on." Sam encouraged sarcastically. Dean didn't move. Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. Sam saw the frustration accumulating on Dean's face. He knew Dean was trying to move, he just couldn't.

"See, you need help."

"No, I don't."

"Dean, yes you do!"

"No I don't Sam, I'm not hungry." Dean said, but his stomach betrayed him, growling loudly. Sam just glared at his stubborn brother.

--Hours Later—

After Dean's lack of appetite in the cafeteria, Sam brought him back to his room. He had helped Dean into bed. He noticed Dean was breathing more rapidly, as if he was trying to control some sort of pain. Sam walked up to the I.V, and pressed a button, releasing morphine into his drip.

"Huh? What'd…You…Do…" Dean mumbled as the morphine started to take effect.

"You were in pain, so I gave you some morphine, go to sleep, you need your rest." Sam whispered as he watched Dean drift off into an induced slumber.

"How's he doing?" Castiel asked as he suddenly appeared at Sam's side.

"Better, no thanks to you." Sam answered his voice bitter and full of venom.

"He needs to get better; he needs to remember and know the truth."

"Why? He wasn't important enough for you to heal him, you don't need him."

"Sam, it's not my place to choose who lives and who dies. Your brother Dean—"

"—What about Dean?" Sam interjected.

"Your brother is more important to us than you will ever know. He has many decisions to make, and we need him."

"Why him? Why can't he just live life? Why do you need him so badly? Why can't you leave him alone? The apocalypse is not his problem!" Sam yelled as he gripped Castiel and slammed him into the hospital room wall. Castiel just remained still in Sam's grasp, not fighting back.

"The apocalypse is his problem. No one else can do it; Dean is special. In the upcoming war, you and Dean will both have heavy decisions to make, and the choices you make, will impact the war." Castiel answered calmly, staring Sam in the eyes. Sam released his grip, sighing, and wiping a few slipped tears from his eyes.

"Dean is sick and paralyzed; he almost died! He needs time."

"We don't have time—"

"I said, he needs time. If he goes and fights, he will die." Sam answered. Castiel just nodded at the raw emotion that was rolling off of Sam, knowing that there was nothing he could do or say to convince Sam that time was not on their side.

"Very well." Castiel answered and disappeared.

It had been a few hours after Sam and Castiel's conversation when Dean slowly awoke. Sam was asleep still, and Dean just laid there. He grunted and groaned as he was finally able to move a shaky hand across his chest without help. 'I can do this...' He thought to himself as he fought to move his arm. After few minutes, he stopped; breathless. He looked over to Sam, and suddenly, a memory arose in his mind.

----10 years ago----

"Sam?" Dean questioned as he looked around an empty warehouse for his little brother. "Sam?!" Dean yelled loudly now.

"Sam?! Sam?!" Dean kept calling as he charged through the building, salt gun in hand. He finally busted down a door and saw his unconscious brother laying on the floor as an angry spirit approached him. "Hey!" Dean called, grabbing the spirit's attention, and shooting it with salt. He ran up to his little brother.

"Sam? C'mon Sam...Sam?!" Dean panicked as he tried to wake Sam up. He reached down and felt for a pulse. He found one and sighed a sigh of relief. "C'mon, let's get you out of here..." Dean said as he got Sam up and slung his arm over his shoulder.

They eventually got out, and Dean brought Sam back to Bobby's to clean him up.

"Ah! Dean, that hurts!" Sam gasped in pain as Dean was cleaning a huge gash across Sam's back.

"Quit whinning, if you had just waited for me instead of leaving Dad and going off on your own, you wouldn't be in this situation." Dean muttered as he finished cleaning it and got out some bandages.

----End Flashback----

Dean shook his head as he remembered who he was. He looked around the hospital. 'Ugh...I gotta get out of here...' He thought to himself. He noticed Sam, who was still asleep in the chair besides the bed. "Thank God you're okay..." Dean whispered to himself as he laid his head back down. He felt drowsy again, and soon drifted off asleep.