Hey. First of all I haveto admit that I am mean. I just had to do the last chapter, I could not resist it lol.

This is not a death fic!!

Disclaimer- i own nothing

Chapter 17

"Dean!"

"Dean!"

Dean awoke with a start. His eyes darted wildly around the room. Firstly, he noted John. The mans hand was on his shoulder. His face was concerned. Dean ignored him. He

looked over and was rewarded with a view of his younger brother, still hooked to the machines but very much alive. The machines bleeped. Sams chest rose rthymatically. Dean

watched it, feeling his own terror subside. After a second, when his breathing had calmed down, he asked John "I was asleep, wasn't I?"

"I think it was a night terror." John nodded. "You were mumbling."

Dean sat up. He adjusted the pillows so he was leaning on his butt, resting his back on a raised pillow. He noticed the movement no longer hurt him.

"Did the nurses drug me up?" He guessed.

"While you were sleeping," Johns eyes flickered from Dean to Sam and back to Dean again, "Figured it was going to be the only way that you would let them take care of you."

"Damn straight." Dean nodded. John ignored the sarcasm, "You are fine, relatively speaking."

A thought struck Dean. His hand strayed unconsciously towards his side. "What is the matter with me?"

John blinked. He was unsure of what to say. He struggled to find the appropriate words.

"What do you want me to say?" John asked after a second. He waved off Dean who opened his mouth to reply. "It does not matter now. It is in the past. You are fine now. We

need to concentrate on the present-on Sammy."

Dean nodded. "what about Sammy. What about the surgery?"

John sighed. He ran his hands through his hair. "He is still too weak for it."

"How long has it been?" Dean asked, exasperated. He glanced quickly at Sam. A thought occured to him. He frowned and turned to John.

"Dad, what exactly happened to Sam? You know, when the plane crashed, how badly hurt was he?"

"The kid was pinned when I found him," JOhn started after a second. He reached out and arm and gripped the cool metal of Deans bed. He stared at the cotton bedspread. His

gaze was far away. It was like he was looking but not really seeing the bed. He was in a different place. Dean nodded. He gritted his teeth, suppressing any emotion.

"They said he was going to die." John shook his head. "They actually advised me to start making preparations. I mean, what the hell do you say to that. But he survived. He has

been holding on. He has been fighting so damn hard. It kills me that I can not help him. It kills me that all I can do is sit here and watch."

Deans heart was pounding. The sound thundered in his ears. Oh my God. Oh my God. He felt like he was about to throw up. Dean imagined if he had woke up if Sam was dead.

His stomach dropped at the thought of it. He could relate to what his dad was saying. He felt completely helpless. And it sucked. It sucked big time.

"It sucks I know. " John frowned. "But you gotta deal with it. We both gotta deal with it," Dean was frustrated, "He has to fight for his life on his own. And we have to be there for

him. Help him where we can."

"That advice sucks Dean," John laughed, "Help him where we can? Are you actually proposing we sit and idly watch him die?"

Dean was silent for a few minutes. His leaned his head back on his pillow. He watched his brother.

"I think," said Dean, without taking his eyes of Sam, "Sam should get the surgery now."

"You are not a doctor Dean. They are telling us to wait."

Dean snorted. "Wait for him to die? You said it dad. If he waits for the surgery, the worse his chances will get."

"He could die on the table. He could die Son." John whispered fearfully.

Deans eyes watered. "I can not belive that I am even saying this. We have to take this chance. At least this way, if it...it...does happen, then he went out fighting. He did not lie on a

bed waiting for death."

"DEan, we can't." John shook his head. He ran his fingers through his hair again.

"Realistically, dad, we have to. He has got bad odds either way. At least with the surgery, he has a little chance."

John nodded, seeing the logic in Deans arguement.

"But, if he dies..." John left the question unfinished. He did not have a clue what to do. He was aware that he was relying on his son for answers that he should be coming up with

himself, he could not find the energy to care.

"We have to have faith in Sam." Dean gestured at Sm. He avoided looking at Sam. "You have to believe that the kid will live. You have to believe that Sammy is not ready to die."

Dean closed his eyes. He was finished talking. He had presented his argument to John. It was now his dads job to be the decision maker. Dean happily reliquinshed the role.

Sammy, he whispered in his head, you got on a plane that was going to crash to save over a hundred people. Save yourself Sam. Fight Sam. Save yourself, save me.

Dean could feel the tears welling in his closed eyes. Please let me be right. Please let it be okay.