Wow, I had a hard time writing this one. I've never written a hospital scene before. Hopefully it turned out to your expectations.

Umm, I think I got all the spelling errors, but I always seem to miss some... Please let me know if you find any. It's one of my pet peeves. -.-

.x.x.x.

Chapter 12. Resolute

"No…Please, Sammy… Don't you do this to me! Sa-aam!"

Not trusting the altar, Dean laid Sam on the ground and began CPR. "C'mon, Sam! Pleeaaase!" He pinched Sam's nose and tried to breathe for him.

There was a cough and Sam's eyes fluttered, his lungs rattling as he took a breath.

"Oh my God, Sammy…"

Sam wasn't conscious, but at least he was breathing.

Bobby knelt down next to him. "He needs a hospital, Dean. Now."

Dean nodded. "Y-yeah…" He was still too shocked that he'd almost lost Sam…again.

Seeing that, Bobby took Sam into his arms. "Move!" he barked at the others, shoving his way past and running back up the hallway. Dean took a second to calm himself, then ran after. Sam still needed him. He wasn't out of danger yet.

In no time, Dean was in his car with Sam lying so frightening still in the passenger seat next to him. Dean slammed his foot against the gas pedal. If he'd thought he'd driven fast before, it was nothing like now. In one way it was a miracle the Impala didn't lose part along the way into the next town, and when things were fixed and made all better again, if they even could be, he promised he would give his poor girl a good long session of pampering.

But that wasn't important now. Now it was all about Sam.

And Sam was running out of time.

.x.x.x.

The plan had failed. Samuel Winchester was still alive.

The shapeshifter watched the sleek black Impala speed away, followed by the many other hunters.

Demons… They couldn't be relied on.

He would just have to take matters in his own hands then.

.x.x.x.

Dean paced the length of the waiting room, clenching and unclenching his fists as he was overcome with worry. His fellow friends and hunters had arrived soon after the EMTs had carted Sam away, though many had departed quickly so as not to create a scene, leaving only Bobby and Ellen to try and comfort the distraught young man.

"Dean, maybe you should sit down—" Ellen said.

"No."

"I'm sure everything's—"

"No."

Bobby smiled sympathetically at Ellen for her efforts. He knew how stubborn Dean could be. The boy had gotten it from his father.

And he knew that if Sam died, Dean wouldn't be far behind. He could only hope that they arrived in time for the younger Winchester.

As it was, every minute that passed dwindled their hopes.

Dean's head shot up from its fixed gaze on the floor as Sam's doctor, a middle-aged man by the name of James Harwick, entered the waiting room.

Bobby and Ellen stood up with fearful anticipation, and Dean was instantly beside the doctor, his face pale and body tensed for the worse. "Is he—?"

The doctor smiled gently. "You can relax, Mr. Conner," he said. "Your brother is fine."

Ellen nearly toppled over in relief. "Oh, thank God."

"I do say, Sam was very lucky," Dr. Harwick continued. "He has a moderate concussion and is suffering from severe dehydration. We've got him stable with a steady flow of fluids to speed his recovery. He should be able to go home in a day or two. You might want to consider filing a lawsuit against those other boys because Sam did nearly die."

Dean exhaled the breath he'd unconsciously been holding and gave the doctor a nod. That had been his story behind Sam's condition: a case of schoolyard bullying that when to an extreme. It was believable, considering the increased rate of school shootings and violence in recent years. "Yeah, yeah I'll do that. Can I see him?"

Another smile. "Of course. He's been asking for you."

He's awake? Does he remember what happened with the shifter? What if he hates me? Dean shoved his tumultuous thoughts aside and quickly followed Dr. Harwick down the hall, Ellen and Bobby in tow.

Sam looked shockingly pale against the white sheets of his bed, and Dean inwardly cringed at the nose canula and the IV stuck in his little hand, but it was all forgotten when Sam's hazel eyes fluttered open and he flashed a dimpled grin. "Dean!"

There was no hate, no fear, only a joyous burst of emotion that radiated through the small hospital room, and Dean dove right into it.

"Sammy!" He was instantly by his little brother's side and enveloped him in a hug, careful not to bump into any of the wires or machines that beeped around them.

The doctor bowed his head slightly. "I'll be outside if you need me," he said, not wanting to intrude on this family moment, and closed the door behind him.

"You saves me from the monsters, De…" Sam mumbled into Dean's coat. "You prawmished you would, and you did. You saves me."

Dean planted a kiss on top of Sam's head. "Of course, Sammy. As long as I'm around, I'll protect you. I'll always protect you."

Sam snuggled closer. "I wuve you, De…"

"Love ya too, squirt."

The boy shifted in Dean's arms to look past him and grinned. "Hiya, Unca Bobby!"

"Hey, kiddo." Bobby was relieved to see that the incident hadn't permanently dulled that innocent spark. "Feeling better?"

"Uh-huh." Then Sam wrinkled his nose. "Bu' this itches…" He scratched at the skin just above the IV.

"Well, I don't know what I can do about that," Bobby said, smiling back, "ya need it right now til your doctor says otherwise."

"Yah, I knows,' Sam said. "I needs the n-nu-twients." He fumbled over the word.

Both men laughed, and Ellen smiled.

That's when Sam noticed her. "Who're you?"

"Uh…"

"She's your Auntie Ellen," Dean said, earning him a gentle swat on the shoulder.

"You're making me feel old," she grumbled.

Sam looked her over. "You saves me too?"

"I guess you could say that, Sam," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "We all did, but none more than your brother. He really loves you, you know."

Oh God…here we go with the chick-flick moment… Dean thought with a cringe.

"That's cause he's the bestest best brother in tah whole world." Sam beamed up at his older sibling. "Righ,' Dean?"

"Right, Sammy." Then Dean licked his lips, dreading what he was about to ask. "So…what do you remember?" He wanted to know. No. He needed to know.

Sam blinked, settling back against the pillows. "I…not much…" he said. "I 'member you an Unca Bobby leaving, an the monsters comin' an I was scared… Then you came back an said we had tah leave an….." His forehead wrinkled. "Tha's all. Am I suppose' to 'member?"

Dean spared a worried glance his friends' way, then smiled down at Sam. "Nah. It's nothing important. You just think about getting better, okay?"

"'kay."

.x.x.x.

Sam's memory loss was just a side affect of his concussion, Dr. Harwick later told them. He'd hit his head pretty hard, so it didn't come as much of a surprise that it had knocked a few things loose. The memory loss was mild though, and likely only temporary.

At that, Dean tensed up. So how long would it be until Sam remembered?

And when he did, would he ever speak to Dean again?

.x.x.x.

"Sam, drop the damn dog."

"But—"

"NOW."

Sam trembled at the harsh voice of his brother that left no room for argument.

"Deanie? Wha' about Unca Bobby?"

"Dammit, do you ever shut up? Annoying little brat…"

Tears welled up in Sam's eyes.

"Y-you're not Dean. You're not my brother."

"I said shut up!"

He felt the intense fear, then the blinding pain lace through his skull…

"Deeeaaaannn!"

"Deeeeeeeaaaaaaaannn!"

"Daaaaaddddddyyyyy!"

Sam jolted awake, slick with sweat and eyes wide and darting around wildly.

No. Dean couldn't hurt him. Dean wouldn't hurt him.

Would he?

Sam curled into a ball, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and breath coming in quick short bursts. The doctor had removed the nose canula earlier that night, but now he wished he hadn't. He felt like he was suffocating.

"I wants to go home…" he whispered into the dark. "I…I wants my mommy…" He sniffled.

"Awww….poor baby all alone?"

Sam jumped, not expecting to get a response. "De?"

His brother stepped out from the shadows into the path of the moonlight streaking in through the window. "You know something, Sammy?"

The cold voice sent shivers down his spine. Sam shook his head.

"I don't like you."

Sam bit his lip.

"In fact, I hate you," Dean continued. "You're such a crybaby, a spoiled little brat."

"No…no please…Dean…" Sam choked back a sob.

"Shut up," Dean snapped. "I don't even know why I put up with you." In two quick steps he was by the bed and leaning over Sam. "Gonna go cry for Mommy?" he taunted. "Mommy's dead. You killed her. You killed poor Daddy too. You killed everyone who ever cared for your sorry ass."

"No…" Sam began to cry, and a hand shot out of the darkness and struck him across the cheek.

"Shut up," Dean said again. "You're pathetic. Get some back-bone, would ya, you miserable excuse for a brother."

"Not Dean… You're not Dean!"

"You sure, brat? 'Cause I sure as hell look like him."

Where was everyone? He wanted Dean to stop, to go away. But he wouldn't.

Sam tried to scramble away from his sibling, throwing the blankets one way, and tearing the IV out of his arm. He yelped as it tore his skin.

A thick arm wrapped around his waist and slammed him back against the pillows.

"You want to join Mommy so bad, Sammy?" Dean growled. "I can help you." He moved onto the bed to straddle the smaller frame and pulled out a pillow, covering Sam's face before he could even scream.

"Nighty-night, brat."

Little fingers clawed at his arms, digging deep into his flesh, but it didn't matter. He relished the muffled cries of panic, and the desperate movements beneath him as the boy tried to breathe.

Any time now…

"Hey!"

He looked up, and at the same moment a gunshot rang through the air and pain exploded in his left shoulder. The force of the blow knocked him off the bed and onto the floor, where he glared up into the fierce face of the real Dean Winchester.

"No one hurts my brother and gets away with it."

The shapeshifter snarled.

Bobby ran in behind Dean and rushed to Sam, tossing the pillow aside. The boy lay still except for his sides heaving as he rapidly inhaled precious oxygen.

"NO!" the shifter screamed. "He must die!" He struggled to his feet only to find himself kicked back down by the one he copied.

Sam's eyes fluttered. "Dean?"

"I'm here, Sammy." Dean didn't move his eye from the shapeshifter. "It's really me this time."

Bobby scooped Sam into his arms, and Sam spared a look down at the shifter, then back at Dean.

Always full of questions, he didn't question what he was seeing this time. He knew Dean. And the thing on the floor wasn't him.

"You guys really need to stop stealing my face," Dean said, annoyed. "I mean, seriously. How many times do I have to die?" He waved his gun in the air. "What did I do to deserve this shit?"

"You killed my brother!"

Dean frowned. "Oh that freak in Pennsylvania? He was a nut." He tilted his head. "And so are you." To Bobby he said, "Take Sam and go to the car."

Bobby nodded in acknowledgement. "Cover your ears, Sammy," he told the boy in his arms, and holding him tight, Bobby left the room.

Dean stared down at the shapeshifter, his face stony and emotionless, and the doppelganger couldn't help but tremble in fear.

"This is for Sammy," Dean said, raising his gun.

And fired.

.x.x.x.

And review... :)