a/n: Not going to lie, this chapter has a lot of added crap to it. I was about to post when I realized I was just so fucking close to 10k that I felt compelled to add a bunch of stuff.

In unrelated news, I'm currently working on another SPN fic as part of NaNoWriMo. I plan to have it finished by the end of Nov, then spend Dec editing the crap out of it, and will hopefully be posting in Jan. If you enjoyed this fic, you will probably enjoy this next one. It's another what-if type story set around the beginning of Season Two. It's basically exploring what would have happened if John hadn't sold his soul to save Dean, and instead Dean is left to come out of the coma on his own and also deal with its lasting physical effects.

Anyway, final chapter:

Dean Winchester: Faith Saved

Sam pressed down hard on his brother's chest. He tried not to focus on what he was doing. Even looking at Dean's pale face, getting whiter by the second, would cause Sam to shut down.

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Repeat. Wait for ambulance.

Where was that goddamn ambulance anyways?

Sam knew every minute he performed CPR made it that much more unlikely his brother would pull through. Scientifically, three minutes without oxygen was enough to kill the human brain.

Regardless, Sam continued pumping and breathing for his brother.

Two minutes. Five minutes. Ten minutes.

The sounds of the ambulance approaching fueled Sam on. Just a few more minutes, Dean. Don't give up now.

When the paramedics arrived, they had to physically pull Sam off his unconscious brother. Sam had become a machine, too afraid to stop for even a second for fear that his brother would die right then.

He was so pale. Sam hadn't thought he could get any paler than he'd been in preceding week, but apparently acute cardiac arrest could do that to a person.

With practiced speed and precision, one paramedic cut open the front of Dean's shirt while the other uncased an AED. They attached the electrodes to his chest and started it up.

Dean's body convulsed with every shock. His back arched and muscles tensed. Sam could only see the irony in that they were trying to save Dean with an electric shock when an electric shock had been what caused the heart damage in the first place.

Between each round, a paramedic put two fingers to Dean's neck and checked for a pulse. When he didn't feel anything, he would signal his partner to try again.

Sam felt hopeless. They had made a life fighting supernatural monsters other people couldn't even imagine in their worst nightmares. They had always pulled through, kicking and fighting and bleeding. But now there was nothing for him to do but watch.

The image of Dean clutching at his chest and shoulder while falling to the ground in a heap stuck in Sam's mind. His own heart had been racing frantically as he ran out of the house to his brother's side.

Dean had just about fallen into the dirt when Sam had caught him. He was groaning and uttering in pain. Sam had tried to reassure him, but Dean was too enveloped in pain to noticed Sam was holding him at all.

Sam had pulled out his cell and dialed 911, silently thanking the gods that a decent signal actually made it to the middle of nowhere Nebraska.

While frantically relaying information to the dispatcher, Sam had kept a careful eye on Dean who continued to groan and claw at his chest. His movements became slower and slower until he was perfectly still. His racked breathes stopping shortly afterwards.

Sam had thrown aside the phone mid-sentence, the paramedics already had enough information to find them, and felt Dean's neck for a pulse. Nothing.

He careful laid his brother down on the dirt and tilted Dean's head back to open his airway, the way he'd been taught all the way back in eighth grade health class.

Back then the exercise had seen so simple. Press down hard on the chest with both hands. Then hold close the nose and breathe twice, checking the abdomen was rising properly. Repeat for two minutes. Try not to look awkward in front of cute girl.

But that had been a plastic dummy, not a real person. Not Dean.

Sam was so thankful then that he had not skipped like his brother. Because while his hands moved automatically, his mind raced frantically. All he could focus on was Dean's lifeless face. His freckles stuck out against his white skin. It would have looked cute, if he wasn't literally dying right then.

His eyes were still open. His vibrant green irises surrounding dilated pupils stared at nothing. Sam could feel him becoming cold as his lips turned blue.

Sam was pulled from his distressing memory when one of the paramedics stood up. He stared at his watch for a second, then said "Time of de-"

"No!" Sam cut him off, and kneeled beside the body of his brother. He took Dean's hand in his own and cried rather harshly, "don't call it. He's not dead yet. There has to be something you can still do. You haven't even put him in the ambulance yet. He isn't even at the hospital!"

Sam knew in that moment he was being childish. He had witnessed plenty of grieving family members refuse to let go long after it was time. Their desperation and refusal to accept reality had always bothered Sam, and he had encouraged each one to move on and make peace. It wasn't healthy otherwise.

The paramedic shook his head dismally. He'd had even more experience than Sam in dealing with grieving families. With rehearsed politeness, he tried to calm Sam down. "Sir, it's time to let him go. We've done all we can."

Sam leaned over his brother. He knew the paramedic was right. Carefully, he pulled off the hat Dean had worn that day because he'd been cold. The low blood pressure had been making him sick all week. Rationally, it was better Dean went sooner than suffer through several more weeks of nausea, light-headedness, and pain.

It still sucked, though.

Sam looked up towards the paramedic who was waiting for Sam to finish grieving to continue. Another man, dressed in a tailored black suit and tie, appeared behind the paramedic. His blue-ish, wrinkled face startled Sam.

The man moved closer, past the paramedic, and kneeled beside Dean's body. Neither of the paramedics acknowledged the man, almost like they didn't see him. They continued watching Sam, who watched the mysterious man.

Sam wanted to shout at the man, tell him to stay away, but no words would come out. His body became paralyzed as well, forcing him to silently watch the man place one large, old hand on Dean's head.

Sam wasn't sure what to expect. He'd lost his last hope a minute ago. But he definitely wasn't expecting Dean to suddenly start breathing again.

Dean gasped and coughed and choked. His eyes were wide and looking all around, either because he didn't know where he was or because he never expected to be there again.

Sam was so startled he couldn't move. The paramedics both pushed him aside, and helped Dean into a sitting position.

"I don't believe it," one uttered. Dean not only had a pulse, but it was strong. As strong as it had been before the heart damage.

Sam glanced around to see if the man was still there. He needed answers. But the man had already disappeared.

A paramedic approached Sam and said they would take Dean back to the hospital for tests and observation. The paramedic himself was in disbelief at Dean's unexpected recovery.

Sam followed the ambulance to the hospital in the Impala. The whole time, he replied what he saw. How the suited-man had placed his hand on Dean and brought him back to life. Then just disappeared.

He thought about it more and about how Layla had described the angel she had seen when she was healed. Was it possible? Were angels real?

But then he thought of the countless books he'd read in research for this hunt. The pictures of reapers. They had all looked different, but were almost unanimously old and dressed in black.

A reaper, though? The angels made more sense.

Reapers didn't bring life, they took it.

Sam thought about Sue Ann and how she'd used a reaper to exchange lives. If this was the reaper she had been controlling, that might explain how she died. She had been screaming at nothing to "stay away" and then her eyes had glazed over, dead.

If the reaper took her life, could he have given it to Dean?

Before Sam could further pursue this train of thought, the entourage arrived the local hospital. It was a small building, old too. There must not be a lot of emergencies in the middle of nowhere Nebraska.

After parking the car and hurrying inside, Sam found Dean sitting on an exam table in the first of two private emergency exam rooms. He looked rather unhappy, considering.

"Those assholes," Dean muttered. He had a bandaid on the inside crook of his right elbow. He saw Sam enter and immediately smiled.

"Hey, Sammy! Am I glad to see you. You got the Impala I assume? Let's go," Dean hopped off the exam table and headed for the door. It was like he'd forgotten all the events of the past week. Like he hadn't just died ten minutes ago.

When Sam didn't move out of the way of the door, Dean grumbled.

"Look, man," Dean explained, "I feel fine. Great actually. Like I did before. I don't know what you did to save me, but thank you. Now can we get out of here. Hospitals bug the crap out of me."

"Dean, I didn't do anything. You died. I couldn't save you."

Dean paused and looked up at his brother quizzically. "So what are you telling me? Am I dead? Is this some kind of afterlife? Because this is a shit afterlife. All those religious books were way off."

"No, no," Sam stuttered, "this is real. After you died, a man appeared. He touched you, and then you were alive again."

"Huh."

"What do you remember?" Sam asked.

Dean thought for a moment. "Well, I remember taking out Roy, but then his psycho wife got a cheap shot on me. I think I passed out for a second. When I got back up, my chest was on fire. I thought I was having a heart attack. I tried to call you. I must have passed out because next thing I was staring at the sky with your ugly mug looking back at me."

"And you feel all better?"

"Yeah, I'm great."

A nurse came up behind Sam right then, and politely pushed him aside to enter the room. She carried a small file folder under her arm.

"Well," the nurse glanced at the name on the chart, "Dean Winchester, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble."

"So can I leave now?" Dean asked.

"Yes, you're free to go," the nurse answered then excused herself to deal with other patients.

The Winchesters quickly left the hospital and drove back to the motel. Dean was ecstatic to be behind the wheel of his baby again, and cranked the music volume to 11.

Dean's shirt had been cut in half by the paramedics, so all he had on was his jacket which exposed his bare chest. It looked better than it had only a day ago, when Dean had undressed to shower. His original muscle mass was back, like it had never been gone. Despite the CPR and AED, no bruising or burns were visible. Whatever healed Dean, healed all of him.

"I'm still trying to figure this out," Sam shouted over AC/DC's "Highway to Hell."

"I'm just happy to be alive," Dean shouted back.

"After I broke the altar, Sue Ann started screaming at nothing. But it was like she was afraid of someone. Someone I couldn't see. Then she just died. Right on the spot. I think, maybe, it was the reaper. Getting revenge on the person who had bound it."

"Makes sense," Dean nodded along.

"And I think the reaper saved you."

"What? Why would the reaper save me? He wasn't bound anymore. He should have killed me. He's a goddamn reaper, Sammy." Dean argued back. His voice was deep and strong like it was suppose to be, not weak and quiet like it had been.

"As thanks, maybe? For freeing it?" Sam speculated.

"You're over thinking this one. Let's just call it a win and be done with it," Dean responded and turned the stereo up, drowning out anything else Sam had to say.

"Yeah, you're right," Sam whispered to himself.

Sam watched the corn fields move past in a blur. The built up exhaustion from the stress of the last week caught up to him. He rest his head against the window, and slept.