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It only took an hour and a half to get to Bethlehem.

"Sam Winchester. Where is he?" Dean asked with a little too much urgency in his voice.

"Just a moment sir," the nurse said as she looked up the name in her system. "They just moved him out of the ICU, he's on the third floor, room 301."

Dean rushed off for the room before he could even think to say thank you for the information. Robin gave thanks for him and rushed off after her husband. She found him in the hallway outside of rom 301.

"What's wrong?" She asked, "Is he in there?"

Dean shook his head, yes. He could see Sammy through the doorway. Asleep. The last time he had seen his brother, Sammy was just a puny twelve-year-old. The boy in the hospital bed was lanky and must have been around six feet tall by the way he stretched across the length of the bed. He looked so weak, so tired, and yet there was a strength that could be sensed. He was sporting a lovely bruise that covered a large portion of his jaw. The one thing that really stuck out to Dean though, strangely enough, was the kids hair. Sam had always refused haircuts and wore his long hair over his ears and when possible eyes. Dean knew if drove their father crazy but he let the kid have his tiny rebellion. Now, Sam's hair was shorter than Dean's.

Sam started to stir, but he couldn't move too much. He was restrained in the bed. His eye-lids started to flutter and Dean backed away from the doorway.

"I can wait down the hall." Robin offered. She knew Dean would want some privacy with his brother.

Dean nodded his ok.

"I'll just be by the nurses station." Robin said as she gave Dean's cheek a gentle kiss.

Dean took a deep breath and walked into the room.

"Sammy?" Dean said with a little creak in his voice.

Sam turned to look at his visitor. His face scrunched into a look of confusion.

"It's me. Uh, Dean."

Sam looked up at the man. Was this supposed to be Dean, his brother Dean? He didn't look like the brother he remembered. His brother was a teenager with peach fuzz and a permanent smirk. The guy was taller, bigger, this couldn't be his brother, but then – he saw it. The golden amulet around his neck.

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

Sam was at loss for words. He wanted to both and hug and punch his brother. Neither of which was possible due to his restraints. Five years. Sam could feel tears welling up. How was it possible to be so angry and happy at the same time?

"You…" Sam cleared his throat, "you can go now. I'm fine."

Leave? He'd just got there. And from what he could see, Sam was anything but fine.

"I'm not gonna leave you here alone Sammy."

"Sam." He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been called anything but Sam.

"Sam, look –"

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. Just call someone. Uh… Bobby Singer. He'll pick me up." Sam turned his head and looked out of the hospital window. He couldn't look at his "brother" anymore.

Dean stood watching Sam. He couldn't take his eyes off of him.

"Sam what happened to you? To… dad?"

Sam continued staring out the window, but Dean could see that he was gently crying.

"Sam?"

"I'm fine." Sam demanded. This time more anger slipped out.

Dean didn't want to leave his brothers side. But he could see that Sam needed a minute. He probably didn't want his big brother watching him cry.

SPN

Two Weeks Ago

John looked across the diner table at the angel. Angels! Who knew?

"You're sure this will work?" John asked before taking another sip of his black coffee.

"Yes." Castiel was sure, or at least Gadreel had seemed sure. "Sam will no longer be Lucifer's true vessel if his blood is destroyed."

"And Dean is safe because…?"

"Because he is Michael's true vessel, but if Lucifer has no possible vessel he can inhabit without combustion then he cannot rise. So there will be no use for Dean as a vessel. The battle between Michael and Lucifer, good and evil, will never transpire."

"And you're sure that Lucifer couldn't use Dean or me instead of Sam?"

Castiel nodded. "Sam is the chosen. No other vessel could contain the amount of darkness and power Lucifer exudes."

John nodded. This was crazy, but if it was coming from an Angel, who was he to argue?

"What am I supposed to tell Sam?" John asked, more to himself than the angel.

"The truth." Castiel stated, as if it was the only obvious answer.

"No," John shook his head, "Sam is a sensitive kid."

Castiel looked skeptical, the vessel of Lucifer, sensitive?

"He won't take this well."

"Well, whatever you tell him, make sure you get him to the warehouse tonight. We'll need to start the process. It will be very painful and we will need to do it quickly. We only have a matter of days before the other angels will figure out what is going on."

John nodded.

Castiel disappeared. John looked around but it nobody in the diner had seemed to take notice.

By the time John made it back to the motel the ice had completely melted.

"What took so long?" Sam asked. He was just finishing up some stitches on his ribs.

"They broken?" John asked, avoiding his son's inquiry.

"Ribs? Eh maybe one or two. Could just be bad bruising though. You get the ice?"

"They were out."

Sam laughed, "the gas station was out of ice?"

"Yeah, no, look Sam. There's something I need to tell you." John sat down on the other motel bed and started wringing his hands.

"Ok," Sam looked at his father like he had lost his marbles. Since when did his dad want to have serious life conversations? Most of their communication focused on hunts, training, and … more hunting.

"Sam, you…I mean, it's, there's something –"

"Dad?" Sam was starting to get nervous now.

"Ah screw it, Sam, I need to tell you something you're not gonna want to hear. You gonna be a man about it?"

"Yessir." Sam straightened up, even though it shot pain through his core.

"You're blood. There's something wrong with it." John started.

"Like… cancer?" Sam asked, confused.

"No. Something a little more… supernatural."

Sam started chewing on his lower lip.

"I'm a monster." It was almost a relief to say it out loud. Sam had always felt different. Even when he was a kid and Dean was around, he knew there was something off with him. He wasn't like his dad. He felt a darkness.

"No, no Sam."

"Well then what is it?" Sam was starting to loose his cool. "Dad!"

"Look, I don't have time to go into the specifics. You need to trust me here son. There is a way you can be saved."

"Saved from what? What's wrong with me?" Sam remembered how easily Dean accepted orders, but he couldn't do it. No matter how hard he tried. He knew his dad missed Dean. He never talked about him. But Sam could tell when he was thinking of him. Usually it was after Sam had screwed something up, he would watch his dads face and it would say, "Dean would have done that the right way."

"Dammit Sam! I just told you we don't have time for this. Get up, we need to leave. Now." John stood and turned away from his son. "Let's go."

Sam didn't want to start a big fight with his dad right now. It had only been about two days since their last big argument, but. he could feel anger bubbling inside of him. Why did his dad always have to be so vague? This was his life, he deserved to know what was going on.

"Dad? Dad, what's wrong with me."

"Sam," Johns voice was just above a whisper, "trust me. You don't want to know."

"Of course I want to know. I need to know! You never tell me anything. You just expect me to blindly follow you. Well guess what! I'm not Dean. I'm not your perfect son! You can't just spring something like on me and expect me to be ok with it. I won't be jerked around anymore. I'm not some dog on a leash! I'm your son! I'm your fuc –" Sam's rant was cut short by a swift blow delivered to his jaw, knocking him out cold.

John picked his son off the floor, he tried to be gentle, not that it really mattered considering what would happen at the warehouse. John carried his broken boy out of the room and to the backseat of the car.

If this were Dean he was dealing with – no, he couldn't think like that. Dean was gone, and John was happy for him. He'd been keeping tabs on the boy, not that Sam knew about this, but he wasn't just going to turn a blind eye to his boy. But now wasn't the time to reminisce. He had to get Sam to that blasted angel. John fired up the Impala and peeled out of the motel parking lot.

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