As Dean stood beside his brother, listening to Sam "bear his soul" to the young nurse in the first floor hallway of the hospital, he had to admit that Sam would have made a hell of a lawyer. The jury would have been in tears after only a couple minutes of his opening statement and the verdict decided before the opposing witnesses could be brought out.

The nurse was no match for him; Dean could practically feel her giving in. It was only a matter of when.

"You're sure we can't see him? Even for just a minute?" Sam pleaded, "We won't be any trouble."

"No visitors right now, I'm sorry, he's just not stable yet," the nurse responded apologetically. "I'm not even allowed to send his family in to see him, and they've been waiting since early this morning."

"Can't you…can't you just give me an update? Please?" Sam continued, blinking hard, "Please. He's…he's my best friend. No one's been telling me anything because I'm not his family, but he's always been like a brother to me, and…and…" he let his voice falter and drop off and looked down, the ultimate picture of despair.

Feeling that he should contribute at least a little to the specticle, Dean reached out and squeezed Sam's shoulder comfortingly, making sure to squeeze a little harder than necessary, "I'm sure Jason's gonna be fine," he said, and then looked at the nurse, "Please, can't you just give him some update? He's been hysterical since he heard; I barely managed to get him to stop crying his eyes out so that we could come here," He felt Sam's shoulder jerk against his hand, and it took everything he had not to smile at his brother's annoyance, "Please ma'am, it would really mean a lot to him."

The woman bit her lip, conflicted, and looked around. The hall was mostly deserted save for a few interns chatting by the water fountain. "Okay," she said finally, her voice lowered, "I'll tell you how he's doing."

"Really?" Sam said, his eyes brimming with hope.

Dean ground his teeth together to keep from rolling his eyes at his brother's performance. Kid's way too good at this…

"But you have to understand that what I'm going to tell you is by no means good news."

"Yes, of course, just…just tell me how he is."

She looked around again and then back at Sam. "Your friend had half of his throat bitten out," she said softly. "He's lost his voice box completely, so if he wakes up he'll never talk again. I'm sorry."

"I…I know, I heard that," Sam interrupted, voice shaking, "They said it was a man that did it."

"Whoever it was, they don't have him in custody," She said dismissively, and then continued carefully, "We've got him hooked to a breathing machine."

"Is he conscious at all?"

She looked at him sadly, "No. We've got him on a cocktail of pain medication and sedatives, so if he does wake up it won't be for a while."

Sam sank down into a chair that was beside him. "Oh god…"

"But you shouldn't give up," the nurse said quickly, "Really. He's doing a lot better now than at first."

"How much better?" Dean broke in.

"Well…" the nurse said, and stopped. She battled with what to tell them for a moment and then just said it. "When they brought him in this morning, he died on the operating table."

"What?" Sam and Dean said in unison.

"He flat-lined. The doctor called time of death and everything. I was there."

"But he's alive now," Dean said, prodding her for more information.

"That's the weird thing," she said, "Ten minutes after he died, his heart started beating again. The rate was slow and irregular, and we only noticed because he made this horrible gasping sound…so we sedated him and hooked him up to a breathing machine and the doctor stitched him up."

Dean stared at her, trying to digest what she had said. "He was dead."

"Yes," she said, smiling at Sam, "He was. And now he's alive. Your friend's a fighter; I wouldn't give up on him just yet."

"Thank you so much miss," Sam said, standing back up. "I really appreciate it."

"Don't sweat it; I'm just glad—" she cut off as her beeper went off. "Sorry," she said, looking down to check it, "Well, duty calls. It's not your friend," she said, catching Sam's inquisitive gaze, "Just a guy on the third floor that keeps crashing. Heart failure."

Sam nodded.

She turned and briskly made her way to the elevator. Sam watched her until the doors closed and then turned to Dean. "Come on," he said, and made a beeline in the opposite direction down the corridor.

Dean groaned and followed him. "Sam," he called, trying to catch his brother's attention. "Where are you going?"

Sam halted abruptly next to a closet at the end of the hall and opened the door. It was empty; he grabbed Dean's arm and dragged him inside, shutting the door behind them.

"What are we doing in here?" Dean asked, looking around at the shelves of tongue depressors, cotton swabs, and syringes in their plastic packaging.

"Talking," Sam said.

"Talking?" Dean repeated, "Hospital closets aren't for talking, Sam. They're for passionate late night sex when a patient dies or a bomb's about to go off."

"You watch too much television," Sam said, locking the door.

"What if someone finds us in here?"

"People tend to think we're gay to begin with, so this won't hurt your reputation any."

"Probably because you cry too much, Samantha," Dean grumbled, "Your performance for that nurse out there was outlandishly moving; you should get an award for the sappiest—"

"Something's going on," Sam interrupted, "We need to find a way into Jason's room so that we can check things out for ourselves."

Dean sighed and leaned against one of the metal shelves. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions."

Sam gave him a look. "That guy died for ten minutes and then started breathing again with half his throat missing."

Dean coughed. "I'm sure weird shit like this happens all the time at hospitals—"

"Ten minutes, Dean. He was dead."

"Maybe it was a miracle. You're into miracles."

"Half his throat was ripped out."

"Yeah, but—"

"Half. His. Throat."

"Alright already!" Dean said loudly, raising his hands in surrender.

"So you agree?"

"Of course I agree," Dean snapped, "The guy's freaking Lazarus. The fact that he's alive at all is weird as hell."

"Yes. And that's why we need to check it out," Sam said firmly. "Tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes."

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean retorted, "Just because I got bitten by some homeless guy? The connections between me and the guy up in that hospital bed are so slim—"

"I don't care, Dean," Sam said, "Why are you so set on leaving so soon anyway? I wasn't aware that we had anywhere else to be."

"Bobby found a job for us nearby. An actual hunt. With actual people who will die if we don't help them."

Sam gritted his teeth, eyes blazing. "We. Are staying. Here."

"Damn it Sam—"

"At least until we check this guy and make damn sure all this is just a coincidence."

"Fine," Dean griped, "But if someone dies, it's on you."

"Whatever," Sam said bitterly, "Lots of other people have already died because of me, why not a few more."

Dean blinked, thoughts momentarily derailed.

Sam continued, "We'll hide in here until it gets late. Fewer people should be on duty on the midnight shift."

"And if he dies before that?"

"Then we check him over in the morgue," Sam said stonily.

Knowing from experience that it was pointless to argue with his brother when he was this determined, Dean bit back a retort. "Fine," he said.

"Fine," Sam echoed, folding his arms across his chest.

They stood rigidly in opposite corners of the cramped closet, both glaring at the white tiled floor. A crash cart rolled past their hiding place. Two nurses walked by, giggling about something a patient had said. Minutes crawled by.

The silence inside the closet loomed uncomfortably.

Dean surrendered his staring contest with the floor and glanced at his brother. Sam's shoulders were hunched over, his eyes staring regretfully downward. Dean looked away and gave in. "You know," he said, "You could have at least stranded us in a closet full of food."

Silence.

Dean was almost ready to admit the defeat of his peace offering when a packet of MNM's landed at his feet. Abashed, he looked back at Sam.

Sam shrugged. "I figured we might end up stuck here," he said, "So I picked some stuff up this morning."

Smirking, Dean slid down the wall into a sitting position and opened the candy. "Trying to bribe me?"

"Nah, you already agreed," Sam retorted casually, "This is just your reward for being a good boy," he ducked as an MNM pelted past his head. "Missed," he said, smiling faintly.

"You just wait," Dean shot back through a mouthful of candy.

"I'm terrified," Sam said, sitting down on the floor across from his brother. "Really."

"Just try not to start crying. The nurses might hear your uncontrollable, heart wrenching sobs and find us."

Sam reached up and dumped a box of tongue depressors on his head.

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think!