Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. I also do not own the title--it belongs to Jimmy Eat World.

Author's Note: I'm really pleased that you all are liking this story so much! Thank you so much for your kind words. This next chapter is for all of you.

Read and review please!!

Summary: A hunt goes wrong, landing both Winchesters in the hospital, one within an inch of death, the other regretting all the choices he has made. With help from an angel, Dean gets to see what would have happened if Jake hadn't killed Sam all those years ago in Cold Oak.

Polaris

Chapter 3

The radio in the Impala flickered. Dean blinked and tapped the radio, turning it off when it became full of static. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He glanced up at the brightly lit window of the small trailer diner that was very visible despite the pouring rain and his blood froze. It was empty. Sam wasn't in there.

He was halfway out of the car before he was fully aware of what he was doing. And then, everything came rushing back to him. Memories of the hunt gone wrong in the forest. Memories of Sam being attacked by the demons. Memories of Hell. Memories of the deal, the year following it. Memories of what was about to happen. And the latter filled Dean with wordless, mind numbing horror. And hope as he remembered the conversation he had with Castiel. He could change things this time. He knew what was going to happen, where it was going to happen, and when it was going to happen. He didn't care how he got there, though he had a feeling Castiel had something to do with it (the bastard, he thought darkly), but he was going to change things. And he would start with saving Sam from Jake.

With a start, Dean knew he could save other hunters as well, not just Sam. Like the hunters that were in the Road House when the demons burned it down. He could save them as well as Sam.

He checked the clock. It was 6:00. He had roughly eighteen hours to get to Cold Oak and stop Jake from killing Sam and preventing everything from happening. He was going to need help.

Dean started the Impala as he took out his cell phone and dialed Bobby's number. He lingered longer then necessary on Sam's name, just staring at it. It hit him all over again just out of touch the two had gotten since they had been reunited. Dean wasn't about to let that happen all over again.

"Singer," the familiar gruff voice said on the other end of the line. Dean was startled; Bobby sounded different. He sounded less… old, if that were possible. He didn't sound nearly as disconsolate as he had before Sam had died and Dean had sold his soul and went to Hell.

"Bobby, it's me. I need your help," Dean said. "Sam's missing. But I know where he is and am going after him. I need you to go to Ash for me. Tell him that he is in danger and that he needs to get out of the Road House as fast as he can."

"Dean, what's going on? Where's Sam? Is he okay? Did he have another vision?" Bobby asked. He sounded worried and concerned and above all else, the same way Dean's father would have sounded if he had been alive. Dean had never realized how much of a father figure Bobby had become until then.

"Look, I wish I had time to explain this to you, but I can't. Just go to the Road House and tell Ash what I told you. Meet me back at your place tomorrow," Dean said. "You won't believe me, but I'll try to explain everything then. Just… just trust me on this, all right?"

"Damn it boy, that's not good enough. I need to know what's going on," Bobby snapped. Dean thought about it for a moment, before quickly snapping his phone shut. With luck, Bobby would do as he asked and Ash wouldn't die. Dean knew that he could use Ash in the next few months if he didn't succeed in what he was trying to do.

With a heavy sigh, Dean pushed the gas pedal down even further.

Eighteen hours he thought. Eighteen hours and I can stop the end of the world.

Rain was falling steadily from the sky as Dean parked the Impala in front of an all too familiar log that had fallen across the dirt road that led into Cold Oak, South Dakota. With his panic levels rising that he was already too late, Dean grabbed his pearl handled gun, his knife, and flashlight.

He glanced at his watch briefly. It read 11:30. Thirty-one minutes until Sam's death. Even though Dean knew it was supposedly going to happen, he couldn't bear the thought. Not of losing this Sam. The one that was shy, innocent, tall, gangly, geeky, and was absolutely terrified of his visions that had been caused by demon blood all along.

"I will not yell his name and distract him like last time," Dean chanted to himself. He was getting a second chance at this. He would not screw it up.

Dean trekked up the all too familiar path that led to Cold Oak. It was scary how much he actually remembered from that night. Or rather, this night, two years ago in present time.

It went against every instinct he had not to call out for Sam. He had to keep biting his lip to stop himself.

Finally, Dean made it to the town. It was 12:58. Three minutes. He spotted Jake lying on the ground, feigning unconsciousness, and Sam standing over him with a pipe raised with a torn look in his eyes. Dean was surprised at how easy it was to read his younger brother. His face was like an open book, more familiar to Dean then his own. There was resentment and pain battling with compassion in those familiar brown eyes that Dean had been missing these past couple of months in present time.

"You're not worth it," Sam muttered dropping the pipe. He picked up the knife from where it lay on the ground and shoved it into his pocket.

"Sammy," Dean breathed. This was his Sam. The Sam that would hesitate before killing anything that wasn't supernatural. The Sam that Dean had been trying so hard to find as of late. The Sam that Dean went to Hell for.

Dean saw Jake stir and opened his mouth to warn Sam, but the young hunter was ready. He kicked Jake hard in the ribs, with a malice that made Dean wince. The youngest Winchester leaned down and pulled Jake up to meet him with his right arm. Dean could just make out the words that his brother said.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said with a shake of his head. "God knows you deserve it, but doing it would play right into the demon's hands. And I'm not going to let him win."

"I meant it when I said I like you man," Jake said. "And I don't want to have to do this, but face it, you're not strong enough. You never will be."

Sam's face was puzzled for the brief second it took for Jake to punch him hard and send him flying. Dean fired two quick rounds before Jake had the chance to get to his feet.

"Dean?" Sam whispered. Dean heard the vulnerability in that one word. The hope and sheer relief that his big brother had found him; the belief that was everything was going to be okay because Dean was there. And in that moment, Dean knew everything was going to be okay. And then his brother passed out.

"Sam!" Dean shouted as he ran forward. Fears started seeping into his mind. Maybe he had been wrong after all. Maybe it wasn't just the knife wound that killed Sam. Maybe Sam was dying after all.

Those thoughts were pushed out of his mind the minutes he knelt down to his unconscious (he is not dead, Dean told himself) brother and felt the pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief and then mentally berated himself for being so apprehensive about it in the first place. Sam was going to be fine. It was Dean's job to make sure of it.

Dean couldn't recall how exactly he had pulled his brother from the ground and made it into one of the abandoned houses the last time he had to do this. He had been more than a little preoccupied with thoughts such as my brother is dead and Sammy is never coming back to really be thinking about what he was doing.

"Now would be a really good time to wake up Sammy," he muttered as he dragged Sam as gently as he could toward the nearest house. "Cause I have to say, you're heavy."

There was no response from Sam, but the steady heartbeat underneath Dean's fingers relieved any concerns that Sam was slipping away from him.

Ten minutes later, Dean had managed to get Sam into one of the houses and on one of the torn beds in the house. He refused to think of the last time Sam had been in a room similar to this. There would be no Winchesters dying tonight. Or ever.

"D-n?"

Dean had turned to grab the medical kit out of the duffel bag he had been carrying when he had found his brother when Sam started waking up.

"Hey, take it easy," Dean cautioned as Sam attempted to get off the bed and winced in the effort. "You have a couple of broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder."

"M' head hurts," Sam said staring at Dean in confusion. "How did I get in here? How did you find me? Where's Jake?"

"Jake… is dead," Dean said figuring it was best to just tell Sam the truth.

"Did I…?" Sam trailed off looking guilty.

"No," Dean said. He put a hand on Sam's injured shoulder mentally wincing when he felt just how out of place this was. This is going to hurt, he thought.

"Oh," Sam said absently rubbing at his temple. Dean wondered what that was about… and then remembered that Sam was prone to visions. And old Yellow Eyes wasn't dead yet.

That's the last thing we need, Dean thought remembering how bad some of the visions could get. He also remembered that Yellow Eyes was the most powerful demon they had encountered; and that included Lilith, Alistair, and all the others they had run into after they had killed him.

Dean set to work binding Sam's ribs, apologizing for all the winces Sam gave. They kept up a steady conversation through out it—Sam was describing to Dean what had happened and Dean making comments through out and making sure his brother was okay. To Dean, it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

"I've got to reset your shoulder, okay?" Dean asked as he taped the last bandage around Sam's ribs.

"Just do it," Sam said through gritted teeth as he reached with his good arm to the half-empty bottle of whiskey that sat on the small table. Dean had set it there earlier and both had been taking swigs from it on occasion.

"On three," Dean said bracing his arms on Sam's shoulder. He hoped he could do this correctly the first time and wouldn't have to reset it later.

"Okay," Sam bit out as he took a huge swallow of the amber liquid in the bottle.

"One. Two," Dean counted off before he slid the joint back into place with a gentle click on the bone's part and a yell of pain on Sam's.

"I knew you were going to do that," Sam muttered as he took a few deep breaths. His face was contorted with pain and Dean felt guilty for putting it there, but he also felt relieved. Sam in his time wouldn't have let a look like that cross his face. This was his Sam. Not some complete stranger with a familiar-ish face.

"Here," Dean said handing Sam some Tylenol. "It's all I can give you for now. You can get the strong stuff when we get to Bobby's."

"Okay," Sam said wincing as he stood up. Dean placed a steadying hand on his good shoulder.

"Take it easy, all right?" he asked. "I don't need you dy- I don't need you hurting yourself any more."

"I can't do that, Dean," Sam said stubbornly. "The yellow eyed demon is going to try to get me to do something for him… he wants me to lead some demonic army."

"Well, you're not going to," Dean said. "As long as I'm around, nothing ain't ever going to happen to you. Ever."

Sam shook his head.

"There are some things you're not going to be able to protect me from," he said. "And this is one of them."

"Damn it, Sammy," Dean said as he threw the first aid kit back into the duffel bag. "Do you have a death wish?"

"No, but Dean, I know the yellow-eyed demon. He's going to use you to get me to do what he wants. And I can't put you in the middle of that!"

"We're in this together, Sam," Dean said bluntly. He didn't want to have a fight. Not now. Not when he just got his brother back. "We're either all in or we're all out. Got that?"

He had become too accustomed to the Sam that would argue everything he said with a somewhat logical argument that always led to a huge fight and awkward silences. Dean had forgotten that Sam used to do everything he asked back before he had died.

"Okay," Sam muttered. He had his patented bitch face on; one Dean couldn't help but grin at.

"You hungry?" he asked. When Sam nodded, he said "I'm starving. Let's go eat and then get to Bobby's. You up for it?"

"Yeah," Sam said taking a few hesitant steps forward. A look of satisfaction crossed his face when the pain didn't register.

Slowly, they made their way to the Impala. Dean had to help Sam a couple of times because of his injuries. He couldn't help but feel content every time he did it, though he knew it meant that Sam was in a world of pain. He cared, but he was more than happy to have Sam back to being Sam again.

Dean made sure to drive carefully and to avoid the crossroads where he had made the original deal that had changed so much in their life. He wasn't sure if he could handle seeing that place on top of everything else.

Sam was passed out in the passenger's seat, snoring softly as Dean turned on to the interstate and started driving toward the nearest town. Dean smiled at the sight; it had been forever since he had seen his brother actually sleep.

He turned on the radio and turned it down, humming along to All Right Now by Free. There was still a ton of work to do, like kill Yellow Eyes, but things were going to be all right.