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CHAPTER 20

"Where's dad?" asked Dean, fighting back the nausea to smile weakly at Sam as he was wheeled past. Sam lay in the bed and watched him pass. He was silent for a

moment, letting the doctors rehook the machines around his bed. For once, the chair between the bed was empty.

"Convinced him to go back to a motel to sleep." The voice was muffled under the oxygen mask. Half of Sams face was covered but Dean could see him watching him.

"How did you manage to do that?" Dean asked conversationally. He was not surprised. The last time he had seen his father, the man had looked worn out.

"Promising not to die for a few hours."

Dean scowled. The image of his lifeless brother lying there floated before his eyes. It was hard to believe that it was such a short time ago that Sams life had been on the l

ine. He failed to see the humor in Sams joke.

"Do not try to be funny. It does not suit you." Sam nodded slightly. Tension creeped into the covnersation. There was an uneasy silence. Deans eyes flitted around the

ward. It was becoming uncomfortably familiar to him. He glanced back over at Sams bed. He could still see him, laying in a coma. He could still see the tubes down his throat and the pale face. Dean shivered. "Sam.." Dean began awkwardly, ".. I am...really glad..you are..alive."

"You too. Thanks." Sam smiled. "That was hard for you wasn't it?" Noting Deans awkwardness. Dean looked over at Sam, marvelling at the fact he had his brother back.

"No." he answered sincerly, "You have no idea how easy that was."

Sam smiled again. Dean grinned.

"Did we get it?" Sam asked after a moment. Deans smile faded. This was the million dollar question, so to speak. He had been avoiding thinking of their failure. He had

been supressing all his feelings of guilt. It did eat at him quietly though. He wondered how many people they had failed to save. How many lives had been lost because of it.

He had hoped to shield Sam from it, for at least a little while. He knew his little brother, the guy could not handle his emotions as well as him. So, after a few seconds of

quiet deliberation he quietly answered,

"No." He refused to lie to his brother, especially when he asked him that directly. Dean could see the words hit Sam. What little color in his face drained from it. His eyes

narrowed. He frowned and he closed his eyes.He clenched his fists. Dean could see him take a couple of deep breaths.

"Talk to me Sammy." Dean fought through another wave of sickness, only concerned with his brother at the minute, "Talk to me."

His eyes opened. They were bright. "All those people..."

"We did all we could. Do not dare feel guilty. Feel sad, " he was forceful, trying to emphasis his point, "sure, be angry that the evil so of a bitch won. Do not dare be guilty.

You tried, I tried, we got on a plane that we knew was going to crash! We tried Sam. We did all we could. But it is a fact of life. Sometimes things do not go the way you

want it to. "

Dean caught himself and laughed nervoursly. Sam did not say anything. He just watched Dean silently as he attempted to run his fingers through his hair. He could not

though,as his wrist was restrained to the side of the bed. Sam frowned and wondered how he had not seen it before.

"Dean?" he nodded at the restraint. Dean shook his head. "It is nothing."

"Dean?!" Sam raised his eyebrows, disbelivingly. "You are pratically hand cuffed to the bed. What the hell did you do?"

Dean looked embarrased. "I tried to punch the doctor."

Sam snorted, quickly turning it into a noise of disbelief.

"He was bugging me." Dean defended himself lamely.

"The guy was involved in saving our lives." Sam reprimanded. Dean winced slightly at the tone.

"It does not give him the right to treat me like a child," Dean ranted, "I mean I had been poked and prodded for an hour. I was at that CT thing for twenty minutes at least,

all together that was over an hour and a half.The guy is meant to be my doctor. He would not give me a damn straight answer. If I hear another, It may be or It could

possibly be, I will swing for someone. If I am sick. I have a right to know what the hell it is. I am not a kid."

"Do you think you are sick?" It was Deans turn to snort. "Ask a stupid question. We are in an intensive care ward. Of course I am sick."

"Do you think it is something more?" Sam elaborated, clearly annoyed.

"Honestly, no." Dean frowned. "I know myself. I would know if I was really sick." Sam nodded, accepting his story. His face was troubled.

"You look like crap though."

"Ha! Thanks princess, you are looking great yourself."

"Dean." Sam grumbled.

"What?" He smiled.

"You are a jerk."

"Bitch."

Both brothers smiled.