A/N: Please excuse any errors. I'm rushing to post this before the large thunderstorm bearing down on us hits and I get toned out and stuck watching downed wires for the rest of the day.

Thank you so much for your support and feedback. The response to the last chapter was generous and choked me up almost as much as writing the dang thing did.

Warning: They're still the Winchesters. I'm going to get a stamp made. Cover your ears, there will be cursing.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. The incredible fun of playing with them is the only profit I receive from the story.

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From Chapter 15:

He lifted his hand to gently brush the bangs off of Sam's forehead. "You scared the hell out of me, buddy," he whispered. Sam's eyes searched his face and John finally understood the emotions filling them. Recognized the look of need…and hope. His own vision began to blur and his hands shook when he reached out to grasp Sam's shoulders. Slowly, and so carefully, he pulled Sam forward until his forehead was resting on John's strong shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his son and held him gently, careful of tubes and wires. Sam's back trembled under his hands and he could hear his breath hitching into the oxygen mask.

"I thought I lost you, Sammy," he said, his voice choked. Dampness spread on his shoulder as Sam began to relax against him, tears slowly escaping. The small bundle of warm innocence that he used to hold was gone, grown into a man who was tall and strong. A man who challenged him, fought him, doubted him, but was still his baby boy.

John ignored the tears that ran down his own face as he held his son.

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Chapter 16 Permanent

Soft beeps accompanied his rise back into the world. Sam shifted sleepily in the bed, confused at the pull of sticky pads and tubes and clamps. A dozen spots burned and stung as small cuts stretched. A claustrophobic weight surrounded his nose and mouth and he moaned at the line of fire that awoke down his right arm when he lifted his hand to push it away.

"Dude, leave that alone." Calloused fingers caught his wrist and Sam blinked his eyes open, slowly focusing on his brother's face. Dean's arm was still resting on the edge of the mattress next to Sam's hip, and the creases etched into his cheek made it clear that Dean had been sleeping with his head resting on the bed.

Sam yawned into the oxygen mask and blearily scanned the room. It wasn't full dark outside of the window, but the light had that early evening quality to it. "What time is it?"

Dean squinted at his watch, his face stretching in an answering yawn. "Almost dinnertime. How you feeling?"

"Better." It was the truth. The scratches were a minor surface irritation. The deeper pains in his chest and throat and head had dulled, and his exhaustion was lessening. "Where's Dad?"

"He left a while ago to make a couple of phone calls. He's setting things up to go after the hag." A small scowl crossed Dean's face and Sam's eyes widened. Dean wasn't supposed to be the one to show disapproval of Dad's actions, that was Sam's job. Dean was supposed to be the one making excuses about how the phone calls were important.

"It's okay, Dean. Dad knows I'm fine and getting rid of the Cailleach is important."

Dean pushed away from the bed and stood up, running his hand back through his hair. "It's not okay, Sammy! You almost died today because Dad and I let other things come first. I swore that would never happen again. Dad should…Dad needs to get his priorities straight."

Sam stared silently at his big brother. The words were just right. They were what Sam had wanted to hear from his brother for years. But in his daydreams about this moment the words were said with conviction. They weren't tinged with grief and loss, as though Dean was letting go of something that was unutterably precious to him. This…this version…

This wasn't what he wanted.

The scuff of feet in the hallway caught Sam's attention and he tensed when his father stepped into view. He didn't know what to expect if Dad had overheard Dean's outburst. This kind of thing just never happened between them.

"Hey, you're awake!" Dad's smile looked genuine and Sam relaxed. "Both of you," he chuckled, his eyes skimming from Sam to Dean and back again. Sam's eyes narrowed when Dean turned his back to John, fixing his attention on the silent images playing out across the muted TV screen mounted in the corner. John walked to the side of the bed, apparently not noticing Dean's reaction. "You look better."

"I feel better. Dean said you were making some phone calls about the hag?"

John perched on the side of the bed. "Yeah, we need to get that squared away before anyone else gets hurt." He looked relieved when Sam nodded his head in agreement. "I talked to Caleb, gave him a rundown of everything going on. He agreed with your conclusions and had some interesting information to add. From what he's read, once the aes sídhe are taken care of, the lower level pests usually disappear. He also said there may be more than just the spriggans. Usually lesser boggles or will o wisps are part of the problem too." He frowned slightly and looked at Sam, a bit of the drill sergeant creeping into his expression and his voice. "Anything else you noticed that you haven't had a chance to tell me yet? Any other sign of fae that I should know about?"

Out of the corner of his eye Sam could see Dean's shoulders squaring at the change in his father's attitude, the soldier reacting to his commander's voice. When he heard John's question Dean stiffened and Sam's stomach dropped. This was it. This was where he found out if Dean really could keep a secret from Dad. And when he couldn't…Sam would lose everything again. Because Dad would never forgive his silence.

And because Sam would put himself between Dad and Titaniea's troupe if he had to.

He took a steadying breath before answering. "No, nothing, sir," Sam said softly.

Behind John's back Dean was holding himself so rigidly he almost looked like he was in pain, and Sam waited for him to turn and tell Dad everything. A shudder went through Dean's body and his head dropped, but he kept his silence. The roiling in Sam's stomach calmed for just a second, until he really let himself take in his brother's pose. Then it returned with a vengeance as Sam began to wonder just how much all of this was costing Dean.

"Okay then," John said, satisfied. "We don't know how she's going to react to losing her sister. The other hag has to be taken care of tonight."

Dean whirled around at that, his mouth set in a grim line. "You'll have to call Travis to come help you, sir. I'm not leaving Sammy alone tonight."

John turned to look at his older son, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I wouldn't expect you to, Dean. I called Travis when I was still at the lake to get things rolling. I just talked to him again to firm up our plans. He and I have it covered, you'll stay here with your brother."

It wasn't until after John turned back to Sam that Sam saw his brother's hands begin to shake.

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"The school play?" Sam raised his eyebrows and looked at Eric in disbelief. "And then maybe I'll run for class president." He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"Class president." Eric stretched the words out in a reverent sigh. He looked at Sam with a bright grin. "I could be the power behind the throne. You should so do that."

Sam shook his head, biting at his lip. The last time they'd made him laugh his chest had hurt for a minute afterwards. "Dude, who'd vote for me?"

All four friends gathered around the bed raised their hands. George Jacobs raised his as well, but Sharon pushed it down. "No dear, you just think you're still in high school." She and George had claimed the two chairs in the room when Dean and John left to grab a late dinner. The room was smaller than a normal hospital room, just a single bed with space for equipment around it, but Dean had managed to jam in the second chair after he'd stolen it from the empty room next door.

"It would be a landslide," Felix offered. Sam just wasn't sure if the president of the chess club had his finger on the pulse of the student population.

"Dude, you're a legend. You put Steve Dillon down!" Eric added. If smirks could be considered proud, then Eric's was.

"Yeah, which of course qualifies me to be president."

"Don't forget you saved a busload of kids from a sea monster," Kristi laughed.

"It was grass."

"Beside the point." Justin waved his hand through the air. "You still saved them." He and Sam exchanged a small smile. Justin had thanked him and Dean for helping Joey about twenty times so far.

"Kristi would make a charming first lady," Eric added, nudging Sam's shoulder.

Sam glared at his friend before glancing in the blonde's direction. They weren't even officially going out yet. She was blushing and gave him a shy smile. Warmth flooded Sam's face. Soooo…changing their status from 'hanging out' to 'going out' might actually be a possibility.

In the alternate reality where he'd be in Whitethorn long enough for it to matter.

Sam rested his head back against the pillow helping to prop him up and tugged at the tube running from his nasal cannula. "Guys, cut me a break," he sighed. "It ain't gonna happen."

"And there are the oratory skills that made me suggest the debate team," George said with a sage nod. He was too slow to dodge the smack his wife aimed at the back of his head.

"You heard him, cut the boy a break. His brain is still soggy."

"Yes, dear. But seriously Sam, the play is a fine idea. Remember what I told you. The schools like to see well rounded students. The play, the debate team, cross country…" George pursed his lips and nodded.

"Mathletes! Sign up for the mathletes program!" Felix threw in. "You did it a couple of years ago, right? So you already know what's involved. Mrs. Marstow in Guidance says it'll look good on applications!"

Sam tried to keep the sadness out of his smile as his friends planned the coming year for him. They were all nice dreams, but the reality was that Dad's leg was almost back to normal. He didn't know if he'd even still be in town when the school year started. The thought was like a knife twisting in his gut and he shoved it down deep. He'd enjoy things while he could.

The conversation became more random and entertaining as the minutes passed, Kristi and Eric both ending up perched on the side of the bed. Exhaustion settled into Sam's bones and he rubbed absently at his aching chest. Kristi caught the movement and turned so that she was facing just him, her back to the rest of the room and the conversation that flowed on around them. She eyed the fist pushing against the center of his chest and then arched one eyebrow at him. "You okay?"

Sam dropped his hand to his lap and gave her a little smile. "Yeah. The doctor said I might be a little achy. It's nothing."

Her expression turned serious and she searched his face. "So it was really just grass? Nothing's out there biting people?"

"Just the grass," he said with a little shrug. "Of course this grass was trying out for a part in Little Shop of Horrors…" He gave her an innocent grin and felt absolutely no satisfaction when she bought it. He hated this. He hated lying to her. But the alternative, and the questions it would raise, was worse. Dad had already done damage control with the kids at the lake, convincing them that there was no 'big fish'.

"Oh well," she sighed. "I heard biologists are coming up from the university. Maybe they'll find something." Sam wasn't worried. He was willing to bet all they would find was a strange growth spurt in an unusual species. A species that was already dying out according to Dad.

Sharon Jacobs sighed heavily. "Well, children," she said as she pushed herself to her feet. "Remember what the doctor said." She included George in the warning look she gave to everyone. "Just a little longer and then let Sam get some rest." She crossed to the bed and leaned down to kiss Sam's forehead. "I've got to get back to the tent, honey. Erin is okay running it, but I've got to get it packed up for the night."

Sam instantly felt guilty at the trouble she had gone to, to be able to sit with him. Especially considering the majority of the time had been spent out in the waiting room. The observation unit was next to the Emergency Department and Dr. Bauer had maintained control of his case, limiting visitors to just Dean and John until Sam's numbers had met her satisfaction. Sam hadn't minded the delay. A second short nap had almost wiped out the pounding in his head. He'd also been more than happy to keep visitors limited until the doctor was satisfied with the way his kidneys were working and the Foley and urine collection bag were removed. He loved his friends, but that was not something he was eager to share with them.

"Thanks for coming Mrs. J." He kept it simple. If he tried to tell her how much it meant to have them there he would probably embarrass himself by getting completely choked up. Having Dean next to him when he was hurting was as necessary as the air he breathed. Having friends there added a new layer he wasn't used to. It was going to be tough learning to live without it again when they left Whitethorn.

Sharon smiled down at him and cupped his chin in her warm hand. "We're very proud of you Sam," she said quietly. "You thank your father and brother for us, for giving us a chance to see you for a little while. And tell them if they need anything at all to please give us a call." She looked over her shoulder at her husband. "George, did you talk to Thomas yet?" She winked at Sam. "George's tennis buddy is a high muckety muck on the medical center's board. We weren't sure what the policies were in the observation unit and we didn't want there to be a problem tonight."

"Yes I did. He assured me that he would speak to the head of the department here to make sure that the rules allow someone to spend the night with Sam." He raised his hand to cup his mouth and continued in a stage whisper. "He might even be able to pull a few strings to have a recliner moved in here." He sat back in the chair with a grin, shooting Sam a 'thumbs up'.

"Thanks Professor J. I think Dean was planning on throwing a temper tantrum 'til they let him stay."

"What about your dad?" He eyed the room with one eyebrow lifted. "I don't know if it would fit, but did you want me to see if I can get you a second recliner?" He sat up, puffing his chest out. "Because, you know, I'm a man of influence around here." The professor ignored the stereo snorts from his wife and son.

"No, thanks," Sam grinned. "My dad has an old friend coming in from out of town. He has to get back to the cabin." He was proud of himself that his grin never wavered. Dad would only be at the cabin for a little while. Then he and Travis would be heading to the woods near the lake to hunt.

And Sam would spend hours praying that the Cailleach was the only fae in those woods tonight.

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It was dark on the porch steps. The metal band was just a pale strip on his ring finger, but it was warm and solid under his fingertips as he twirled it. The rub of the metal against his skin calmed him, made him feel connected to Mary.

He wasn't sure why he'd thought of the cabin when they needed a place for him to recuperate. Maybe it was because in this place, of all places, it was ingrained in him to suck it up and allow no weakness. Or maybe it was because gutting it out here, beating all the shit that got thrown in his way, was his way of shoving it in his father's face. I'm tougher than you ever were old man.

It sure as hell wasn't because he was deranged enough to find solace in the memories that filled the place. Memories of his father constantly over his shoulder. Criticizing…demanding…belittling. Pushing him down a narrow path towards the military career that had been picked out for him. By the time he was a teenager, the 'vacations' at the cabin had turned into weeks of uninterrupted pressure. Stress that left him battered and close to the breaking point.

It wasn't as bad when they were back in Kansas. His dad was distracted and John could escape to school, decompress with his friends, play sports. The pressure lifted enough for him to get his feet back under him and find his balance.

He'd stood outside the door to Sam's hospital room for a little while after eating. He'd listened to the laughter, the easy conversation and companionship that filled the room, and realized that the sound of Sam in the middle of a group of friends, relaxed and happy, accepted, was totally foreign to him.

It hit him like a freight train that life for Sam everyday was like those times in the cabin when John was young. There was no respite. Sam was rarely in a school long enough to settle in. Sports, friends…he was usually hesitant to put any effort into either. Afraid of leaving a team in the lurch when they unexpectedly moved on. Unwilling to face the pain of leaving close friends behind. And John sure as hell didn't help. The one time they'd actually stayed put long enough for Sam to play some soccer he'd had to fight John tooth and nail for that privilege.

John asked Sam to give up everything so that they could protect the homes and families of others…but Sam had never been in one place long enough to know what it felt like to have his own home.

It didn't seem to be as bad for Dean. God, Dean was such a trooper. He just adjusted to wherever they ended up and carved out a little place for himself. Usually with the women. Sure of himself to the point of being cocky. He was John's rock. But Sam? The constant pressure was starting to cause cracks that John couldn't ignore anymore. Sam seemed increasingly lost. Torn between wishing he could please his father and long stretches of sullen defiance. The easy calm between them over the last few hours was rare.

John wasn't a stupid man. He didn't want to be his father, but he knew his slide in that direction had been accelerating. It might be too late to stop it, but he had to try. He'd almost lost his boy today. Wake up calls didn't get a whole hell of a lot more serious than that.

Headlights turned onto the dirt driveway and he stood up, stepping out into the yard to meet the oncoming vehicle. Travis's rusty old pickup rolled to a stop and the hunter climbed out.

"Travis, you old dog!" John stuck his hand out with a wide grin.

"Johnny Winchester." The shorter man matched John's grin as he grasped the outstretched hand. "How's your boy?"

"Doing okay. Dean's staying with him. Did you get everything set up like we talked about?"

Travis rolled his neck and shoulders with a grimace. "Yeah, and you owe me Winchester. I been running around like a damned lunatic since you called. Took me a couple of hours just to lay the lengths of chain out. I haven't had a workout like that in years. I picked up the other stuff you wanted too. What the hell kind of new age hippie town you living in, anyway? You know how many damn herbalists there are in this town?"

"What about those boys?"

"Just like you said. Two of them came up to pick up the Jap SUV. I kept an eye on them to make sure there wasn't no problem." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So Sammy took care of the hag in the water?" Travis asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yep, iron knife. Slit her throat."

Travis gave a low whistle. "Little Sammy? Unbelievable."

John snorted. "When's the last time you saw him?"

"Gotta be a couple years," Travis shrugged.

"Well, little Sammy had a couple of growth spurts since then," John smirked as he led Travis into the cabin.

A little food and drink, and then they would hunt.

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"Foxglove," Sam said without hesitation.

"Isn't that, like, poisonous?" Dean asked, his voice rising.

"Yeah, it can be," Sam shrugged. "It's digitalis. But I'm sure she knew what she was doing, Dean. I'm still here, aren't I?" Sam reined in his smirk when he saw how freaked Dean looked. "You said she only used one leaf, right?" He shrugged again when Dean nodded. "In the old texts they say to squeeze the moisture from something like eleven leaves to break an enchantment. She only used one. It must have been enough with her mojo."

Dean slumped back into the recliner. He'd turned it so he could easily see Sam in the bed. "So Tania…I mean Titaniea…?"

Sam nodded and Dean's face twisted. He pushed himself out of the recliner and began pacing the room.

Was this it? Was the façade finally cracking? His brother was good. Damn good. Put him on the big screen and he'd be walking off with the Oscar. But Sam was watching him with eyes honed by eighteen years of close observation, and he could see the signs. The jumpiness, the distraction, the occasional too sharp reply and cold smile…and a dozen other small quirks that meant Dean was worried. And angry. Angry at himself, at the situation, at Dad. Especially angry at his little brother. It had been growing over the course of the evening as Dean became more convinced that Sam was okay and all of the day's revelations settled into his brain.

"I don't like it, Sammy," he said stubbornly. "How can you know they're not evil, playing some game?"

It amazed him that Dean's distrust of all things supernatural was so strong that even the fact that they had helped to save Sam's life didn't sway him. "Because they've been here for a very long time, Dean, and no one's been hurt before this. And as soon as someone was hurt they asked for help to stop it."

"This doesn't seem a little coincidental to you? A deadly water bogie showing up in an area where friendly neighborhood fairies run rampant?"

Sam drew in a deep breath and grimaced at the ache in his chest. "The water bogie is a lot more common than you think, Dean. Even in this part of California. The Miwok Indians in this area have reports going back hundreds of years of the He-Há-Pe, women who pulled victims into rivers and pools to die. I think if we research reports of unusual plant growth in lakes and then check for deaths around those lakes we'll find out Jenny and friends have been making the rounds. If it wasn't for our 'friendly neighborhood fairies' we would never have caught on that we had a problem here. They would have killed a couple more people and then moved on to do it again somewhere else."

Dean didn't answer. He stared down at his watch for a second before abruptly turning away from Sam. It had to be close to midnight. Dad and Travis should just be getting started.

"It's not too late for you to go after him," Sam offered quietly. "You know about all the fae even if Dad doesn't. You could watch his back." He forced the words out of a chest that didn't want to give him the air to say them. He really didn't want Dean out there. In the heat of a hunt, if Dean slipped and John caught on...

And how friggin selfish did that make him? His chest squeezed tight at the thought.

"No," Dean said, walking to the small window. "I said I'd stay here with you, and I'm staying." The words were quietly spoken but set in cement. He lifted his hands to rest on the wall on either side of the window and leaned into them as though doing a vertical pushup. Even in the shadows of the dimly lit room Sam could see that the muscles across his back and shoulders were practically twitching with tension.

"Are we gonna talk about it?" he asked his big brother quietly. He rubbed at his chest and let his eyes slide shut as he coughed softly.

"Talk about what?"

"How pissed off you are about everything. How mad you are at me."

Dean turned to face him and he wasn't trying to hide it anymore. The anger, the hurt. He shook his head. "I don't think I have any right to be pissed off at you, dude. Not after the way I treated you."

"But you are."

"Damn right I am." He leaned against the wall next to the window. "You put all three of us in danger without a word of warning when we went to the lake."

"Dean, when we went to the lake I didn't know anything except that there was some kind of fae in the water. I didn't know about the spriggans, I didn't know about the other hag."

Dean just looked at him and heat flooded Sam's cheeks. Yeah, the excuses sounded pretty thin to him too. "I was stupid. I didn't expect it to be dangerous. I'm sorry, Dean," he mumbled. He straightened his shoulders and fixed Dean with a steady look. "But even if I'd known, I might have handled it differently but I still couldn't have told you everything. You know what would have happened."

"Yeah, I know what would have happened," Dean said quietly. "But dude, every minute you kept what you knew from me, you were lying. I know you think you didn't have a choice…" he trailed off and then wiped his hand over his face before walking towards the bed. "Who am I trying to kid. We didn't give you a choice. But it doesn't matter. You lied to me and I'm not okay with that."

Sam couldn't help the incredulous look that swept over his face. "Dude! We lie all the time! In our family it's considered a survival skill! How many emergency credit cards do you and Dad have stashed away? What names are on them?" He softened his voice when he saw Dean's jaw tense. "What did you tell the doctor about my bruises and these cuts? The truth?"

"That's different, Sam, and you know it," Dean pushed through clenched teeth. "That's bending things a bit for strangers, not family."

"Oh, because we don't ever lie to each other?" He knew he was on dangerous ground here, but he needed Dean to understand. "Before I figured out what Dad did for a living, what did you used to tell me his job was, Dean?"

"You were a kid, Sam. What was I supposed to do?"

"Two months before Dad got hurt, the two of you were delayed a couple of days on a hunt. Want to tell me now what the holdup was?"

Dean's eyes flitted away and he remained silent.

"You both told me you got held up because you found another salt and burn in the area, but that never happened. I found the discharge papers from the hospital, Dean. You were in overnight with a slight concussion. Were you ever going to tell me about it?" Sam cleared his throat against the uncomfortable tightening in it. "Don't you tell me we don't lie to each other," he whispered hoarsely.

"It was my decision not to tell you. You always use it as an excuse to bitch at Dad when somebody gets hurt. And you worry way too much. I just didn't want to put you through that." He glared down at Sam in the bed. "What you were hiding, all of this, is different. And you know it," he repeated stubbornly.

"How is it different, Dean? You lied because you were trying to keep the peace and you didn't want to hurt me." He paused and searched Dean's face. "Can you look me in the eye and tell me knowing this secret about the fae isn't hurting you now? Can you Dean?"

The truth swept across Dean's face and Sam's breath hitched in his throat. It was like a punch to the gut. He'd known it was bad, but not like this. Not this much pain and confusion.

Dean's face tightened, and anger filled in around the pain. "You want to know why it's different this time, Sam? Because this secret almost killed you! Because instead of opening up and telling us everything once you knew what was going on you went out there on your own and you almost died! No secret is worth that Sammy! Nothing is worth that!"

Sam disagreed. If he'd been able to spare his brother the pain of knowing the truth, it would have been worth it. Dean was in an impossible position and there was nothing Sam could do about it. The lives of too many harmless creatures hinged on their silence. "Are you going to tell Dad?" His brain was buzzing, his hands vibrating with fear as he waited for the answer.

Dean deflated, the anger draining away. "Dude, stop looking like I'm about to off Tinkerbell," he sighed. "I'm not telling Dad." He perched on the edge of the bed and waited for Sam to look at him.

"For somebody's who's so smart, you're pretty dumb sometimes. Don't you get it? I may not be thrilled with you at the moment, but that doesn't change anything. Dude, you gotta understand that even when I'm pissed at you, I'm still your big brother. You might not be able to tell lately, but it's my job to watch out for you. It's been that way our whole lives." He grinned at Sam, but there was no humor in it. "It's just gotten kinda complicated since you and Dad went to war." He rubbed his hand over his face, but not before Sam saw the exhaustion marking it. A bone weary tiredness that was too deep to have been caused by just that day's events.

Sam's breath caught and he coughed quietly. He was responsible for his brother looking like that.

"You almost died today because you didn't know if you could trust me," Dean said bluntly, the fear on his face warring with anger. "I can't go through that again, Sammy." He looked down, plucking at a loose thread on the blanket next to Sam's hand as his face twisted. At this short distance Sam could see the fine tremors running through his brother. "I may not agree with you, but I'm not gonna let you down again."

Sam's chest ached at his brother's expression. He didn't think Dean had any idea how lost he looked. Dean idolized Dad but he would stay silent for Sam. And it would kill him.

Oh God. The whole situation was so screwed up. Dean should have never been put in this position. "Dean…I'm sorry…" The tightness in his chest increased and he pushed his fist against his sternum, fighting to hold in a cough.

The agony on Dean's face morphed into fear when he looked up. Even in the dimly lit room Sam could see the color drain from his brother's face. "Sammy? What's the matter?"

Another cough did little to clear his airway and Sam fought to pull a wheezing breath in. The twinges and aches in his chest were multiplying, running together into one continuous wave of pain. "Hard…to…breathe…" he gasped out, struggling to push himself up so that he'd be sitting completely upright. His heart began to race, terror swamping him as the feeling of slow suffocation increased.

Dean's eyes flew to the monitors, widening at whatever he saw there. His left hand was shooting for the call button as his right helped Sam to sit up. His voice didn't mirror the panic on his face. It was soothing and confident, willing Sam to be strong. "It's okay, Sammy. Calm down. Try to breathe through your nose, you've got the oxygen there." His hand was solid on Sam's back, rubbing gentle circles between Sam's shoulder blades. "The nurse is coming and she'll fix you right up."

Sam rested his hands on his thighs, hunching over slightly as his chest strained to bring oxygen into his lungs. God it hurt. He slumped slightly to the side, leaning against his brother's strong chest. It was warm and sturdy under Sam's cheek and Sam squeezed his eyes shut. He was five years old again, wrapped in the feeling of being safe and protected while his big brother kept the monsters away. Dean…please…help me…

"It's okay…I'm here…I gotcha Sammy…" Dean's heart beat strong and steady under his ear, slowing as Dean brought himself under control. He wouldn't allow himself to lose it when Sam needed him. Sam slowed his panicked gasps and let his world narrow down to the wheezing in his lungs. Dean would take care of the rest.

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Is this the moment where I look you in the eye?
Forgive my broken promise that you'll never see me cry
And everything, it will surely change even if
I tell you I won't go away today

Will you think that you're all alone
When no one's there to hold your hand?
And all you know seems so far away and
everything is temporary rest your head I´m permanent

"Permanent" by David Cook

A/N: This is where canon raises its head and makes me cry. In canon Dean's default setting was to be loyal to John until the end of Season 1. And until the encounter with Lenore in Season 2, Dean shared John's black and white view of supernatural creatures. I'm so tempted to segue into an AU at this point…but I'm not going to.