A.N.: Many, many thanks to Youngest Ones Rule for her fantastic beta reading. All mistakes are mine.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing! You're words and feedback means the world to me!

Chapter 11

Impatiently, Dean paced the hospital floor. He'd been here for over an hour now. After leaving the tunnels, they had driven here directly. Upon arrival, the hospital staff had taken Sam away and rushed him into one of the exam rooms. His brother hadn't woken up once since collapsing in his arms.

His father had been taken away a few minutes later – John had argued about it, but not for long. This had showed Dean more than anything how exhausted his father must be. He'd left Dean with the order not to do anything stupid and stay where he was.

Now he was alone – again – with no knowledge about how his family was doing. Sam had looked awful. He had lay pale and limp in Dean's arms until his father had urged him to get up and going. Together they had carried Sam out; Dean had hardly been aware of the two other men, Stan and Chris, following behind. Under any other circumstances, he'd been relieved to find them alive – with Sam unconscious he couldn't have cared less.

What he had noticed though was the sudden disappearance of Matt. His muttered words had not made any sense and yet would explain everything.

Matt was some kind of supernatural freak and he affected psychics. Sam was a psychic. Matt had done something to him, not voluntarily, maybe, but he was responsible for what had happened to his brother.

Matt had claimed he didn't know how strong this effect was and Dean was inclined to believe him. He had seemed … trustworthy… sincere.

Dean punched his fist against the wall, cursing himself. How could he have trusted that freak? He was nothing like Sam. He should have been more careful, should have prevented Matt from coming too close to his brother.

Now Sam was in a hospital, unconscious … and Matt was responsible.

A sudden clarity came over Dean. If Matt had done this, he simply needed to undo it and Sam would be alright again.

Dean knew what he had to do. He'd find Matt and he would save Sam, like he always did.

---SPN---

The Impala sped through the streets, breaking every speed limit. Dean looked intently for any sign of Matt or his motorcycle. He almost gave up hope, deep down convinced the man had already fled town, when he spotted the bike standing in front of a church; Matt leaning casually against it.

Dean hit the breaks and the Impala came to a sudden stop. He jumped out of the car, his hand immediately going for his gun. With a few quick strides he had reached Matt; grabbing him at his collar he pulled him away from the bike and slammed him against the church wall.

"What have you done to my brother?" He yelled, holding his gun under Matt's chin.

The man didn't flinch.

"You really think I escaped all these hunters if something like this could harm me?" Matt said calmly, motioning for Dean's gun.

"What have you done to Sam?" Dean asked again through clenched teeth.

"Nothing, Dean, I did nothing."

"Sam's in a hospital."

"I couldn't have stopped it." Matt sighed. "I'm sorry."

"But you're responsible."

Matt hesitated a moment before he replied. "Yes."

"So you can undo it."

Matt scoffed. "Undo it?"

Dean narrowed his eyes and pushed his gun closer into Matt's skin.

Anger flashed in Matt's eyes. "I can't undo anything! You want to help Sam? Let me go. That's all I have to offer."

Dean huffed. "Yeah, right. And Santa'll come visit next Christmas."

Matt sighed and took a deep breath. "Sam is one of the strongest psychics I've ever met. There was just one, a woman, years ago … she was like him. And she picked up what I saw just like Sam did."

"What happened with her?" Dean asked, his mouth dry.

"She's dead."

Dean's stomach dropped.

"I tried to help her." Matt went on. "At first I thought she was like me. I thought if I gave her enough time, she'd learn to handle the visions. I did." A shadow crossed his face. "It got only worse though. The more she suffered, the less I saw. Eventually I realized that she was picking up my visions and it was killing her. I tried everything, but nothing helped. It got so bad; she couldn't be in the same room as I was. One day she collapsed and never woke up again."

Dean swallowed. "That's not gonna happen to Sam."

"I agree. That's why you have to let me go."

Dean shook his head. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Think about it, Dean. It's me staying too close that killed that woman. Sam collapsed because I came too close. He's seeing what I'm supposed to see. As long as I'm here, he won't get any better."

"What do you see?" Dean asked warily.

"Death. It's everywhere." He pointed at a spot across the street. "When I came into town, I saw a woman getting shot over there. Down the street, a kid got hit by a car. When this church was build, one worker killed another with a hammer. On the market place, they hanged several criminals. I saw all that and now … nothing. Because of Sam."

"How do you know it's gonna stop when you leave?"

"I don't." Matt shrugged. "But it's all I have to offer."

"I could kill you."

Matt smiled sadly. "No, you can't."

Dean closed his eyes, growled, and dropped the gun. "I can't lose him."

"Let me go."

Dean bit his lip, desperation spreading through his body in waves. He couldn't just let him go. If it didn't work – how was he supposed to find him again? Would there even be time to look for him? If he was wrong …

"Dean." Matt said quietly, pulling him out of his thoughts. His voice was filled with sadness.

Dean looked up at him; he nodded slowly and took a step back. He prayed he was doing the right thing.

Matt inhaled deeply and went to his bike. "I hope Sam will be all right. I really do." He said quietly; then climbed onto his bike.

"Hey, one more question?" Dean held him back before he could start the bike.

"Go ahead."

"Why are you still here? You must have known I'd come after you."

Another sad smile flashed over Matt's face. "I'm tired of running. It was easier this way." He paused for a moment. "I owed you an explanation. Someone needed to know."

They shared a look, then Matt started the engine and drove off. Dean watched until he disappeared around a corner, a feeling of dread spreading through his stomach.

---SPN---

John knew he shouldn't have been surprised not to find Dean in the waiting area. He had hoped the need to stay close to his brother would keep him here, but deep down he had known Dean wouldn't be able to just sit around.

On any other day, he'd be furious with Dean's disappearance, but today he was simply too exhausted. So instead of rushing after his son to teach him a lesson, he sat down on one of the chairs in the waiting area. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for Dean to return or Sam's doctor to give him an update.

He must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes again, Dean was sitting next to him, looking close to going stir crazy.

With a sigh, John sat up. "You're back."

"Any news on Sam?" Dean asked instead of replying.

John shook his head. "Not yet." He glanced at his watch, surprised to find that over two hours had passed since he'd come to find his oldest gone. His worry increased. "I'll try to find a nurse."

He groaned when he tried to get up. His battered body protested the movement.

"Keep to your seat, old man. I'll go." Dean pushed his father back on the chair.

John raised a brow. "Who you calling old?"

"Mr. McNab?"

Both heads snapped around to the man who had called – McNab was the alias they had given at their arrival.

"Yes." They said in unison, jumping up from their seats.

"I'm Dr. Larkin, I've been treating your son." The doctor introduced himself.

"How is he?" John asked, beating Dean by a millisecond.

"Why don't we sit down?" Dr. Larkin motioned to the chairs.

John's chest constricted.

"Just spit it out, Doc." Dean demanded impatiently.

Dr. Larkin nodded, a solemn expression on his face. "Sam has several cuts and bruises, as was expected with what happened. He has two broken ribs, they should heal without problems. There are no internal bleedings, which is good. He's developed a slight fever; we've administered antibiotics and I expect his temperature to drop soon."

"So he'll be okay?" Dean asked anxiously.

John stayed quiet. He knew the doctor wasn't finished yet and his still solemn expression told him as much.

"Sam still hasn't woken up." Dr. Larkin continued. "I … haven't been able to discover the cause for this. There is no head injury, nothing that would explain his continuing unconsciousness."

"What does this mean?" John asked warily.

"Your son is in a coma, Mr. Winchester. At the moment, I can't say when … or if he'll wake up."

"He'll wake up." Dean cut in determinedly.

"Of course he will." John said quietly. "Can we see him?"

"He's in room 106, down the hall on the left." Dr. Larkin said.

"Thank you." He turned to Dean. "Let's wake your lazy brother up."

---SPN---

Dean sat at his brother's bedside, taking comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest. Sam looked like he was simply sleeping. He had dark rings under his eyes, and his cheeks were slightly flushed from the fever, but nothing that would indicate anything life threatening. Sam looked a lot like the early days after Jessica died, haunted, even in sleep, but alive and well.

He didn't look like someone who was in a coma.

He forced his glance away from his brother and looked intently at his father. He looked like he was ready to collapse. Dean could see that every movement caused him pain and he was way passed exhaustion.

"Go get some sleep, Dad. I'll watch over him." He said quietly.

John gave him a sad smile. "That's not your job, Dean.

Dean shrugged. "That's not what you said 22 years ago."

Guilt flashed through John's eyes. He didn't reply and they fell into silence again.

The quiet, only disturbed by the beeping of the machine monitoring Sam's heartbeat, graded on Dean's nerves. He wished he could think of anything to talk about with his Dad. He had already filled him in about Matt. His Dad had told him everything about what happened after the hotel had collapsed and they had discussed what to do with Caleb. He was on the verge of a new hunt, so they had postponed the conversation about the demon killing knife to the near future – with everything that had happened and Sam still not waking up, finding that knife suddenly didn't seem so important anymore. There was always time later.

Dean still had a million questions left, about what his father had been doing the last year, where he'd been, why he'd just left without even leaving a note, but knew he wouldn't get an answer. So he didn't bother asking.

"He'll be all right." John suddenly said.

Dean looked at him surprised. His father usually saw the glass half empty; it wasn't like him to give pep talks like this.

"He'll be all right." John repeated, almost inaudible.

"How do you know?" Dean asked. It was meant to sound angry, instead it came out more as a plea. He hated sounding like a little boy, but he could really use some reassurance right now.

"I already lost him once. It won't happen again."

Dean swallowed. He didn't know how to reply to that.

John cleared his throat and fidgeted on his chair. "I could use some coffee."

Dean huffed. "Yeah, I don't really wanna go there now either." Sam leaving for Stanford and all three of them breaking contact in the aftermath was still a subject neither of them wanted to talk about. Sam might want to, because if his brother loved anything, it was talking about all the things Dean liked to ignore.

God, Dean would give anything to talk about these things with Sam now.

"I really could use some coffee." John looked at Dean pointedly.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get some."

Dean glanced at his watch as he left the room. It had been almost ten hours since Matt had left town. Shouldn't Sam have woken up by now? Or at least showed some sign of recovery? Yet nothing had changed since Dean had come back.

As he walked down the corridor, he thought it might have been a mistake to let Matt go. This crazy story of his – Dean couldn't believe he had just bought it. Sure, Matt had sounded convincing, but these supernatural things had a tendency to lure people in. They tell lies to survive. It was one of the first rules he'd learned.

And yet, Dean couldn't help but believe him. He couldn't imagine that the man had lied to him, supernatural freak or not. One part of him wanted to go after him, but he didn't really think it would change anything. Plus, he wouldn't even know where to start looking.

He just had to keep hoping that Sam would wake up. That he'd made the right choice.

---SPN---

With Dean gone, John thought it was safe to lean forward and take Sam's hand in his own. It was ridiculous, but he couldn't let his guard down in front of his sons. Not anymore. It had been easier when they were younger, but now … The damage was done.

Dean was not here though and he was alone with a sleeping Sam. It was okay.

Squeezing his son's hand, John spoke in a whispered voice. "You did good, Sammy. Real good. I'm proud of you." A small smile played on his lips. "I always thought Stanford might weaken you. It didn't. You're one hell of a fighter, Sammy. Don't stop fighting now." He gently wiped a loose strand of hair off of his son's face. "Don't worry about the visions. I know what to do. I won't … I won't let anything happen to you. Ever. I know you're afraid." He swallowed, a wave of pain threatening to crush his heart. "I won't let that bastard get to you. I… We'll stop it. I won't let him have you."

John wanted to say so much more, but a twitch in his hand made it all unimportant. "Sam?"

He held his breath until he saw his son's eyes slowly open. A wave of relief rushed through him. "Hey son."

Unfocused eyes met his and John couldn't help but smile happily.

"Dad?"

It was the most beautiful sound he'd heard in a long time.

---SPN---

"Would you stop it, Dean? I'm fine." Sam groaned as he pushed the door open to the hotel room he shared with his brother and father. He was defending a bag of fast food from his brother who was trying to grab it from him.

"The Doc said you shouldn't carry anything heavy." Dean objected.

"That was over two weeks ago. And I wouldn't exactly call this heavy." Sam pointed out.

The room's walls and table were covered with maps, newspaper articles and books, Sam's laptop lay unused next to the Colt, on top of several papers.

It hadn't taken long for the Winchesters to make themselves comfortable.

"I'm just saying take it easy. There's no need to …"

"Boys."

Their father's stern voice immediately caught both brothers' attention.

"What is it, Dad?" Dean asked, already on alert.

"It's happening again."

Neither Sam nor Dean had to ask what he meant. They had talked about nothing else for the last few days; the signs - fires, cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms – telling them exactly where they were going to find the demon. They just needed to wait for them to flare up again.

"Where?" Sam asked in a hoarse voice.

"Salvation, Iowa." John replied gloomily.

All three shared a look; all thinking the same.

"Let's go then." Dean said. "It's time to end this."

The end.