Disclaimer: The characters of "Supernatural" were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

Note to Readers: Well, as always shorter than I wanted but today has been hectic and I wanted to get something to you while it was still the weekend. It's about 4 pages long and I will try to get it longer for next weekend. Thanks to everyone that reviews and sends PM's. There are a few of you that never sign-in to leave your reviews/comments, so I'm not able to reply back to you directly but, please know I thank you for your reviews and comments. Happy Reading, I hope.

Our Solemn Hour

By Dawn Nyberg

Chapter 12: Ties that Bind, Part 2

"… Please save me I've fallen here. I am lost and alone…" lyrics excerpt by Sinead O' Connor, One More Day

Dean knocked on his brother's door although he sort of figured it was useless since his jeep wasn't out front. He'd call him but sort of felt like surprising him as he was pretty sure Sam was going to pissed that he'd left Lisa in Cicero. He glanced at his watch, it was only 5:00 but figured that his brother had gone into work early to prepare for a busy weekend night. It had taken him a day and a half to get to Tonganoxie because he had promised Lisa he wouldn't drive straight through and would stop to get some rest.

He walked into the bar and saw Missie, "Hey Missie," he smiled.

"Dean? Wow, you're the last person I expected to see walk through that door today."

"Yeah, I bet," he chuckled. "I'm lookin' for Sam. He wasn't home, so figured he was here a little early."

"Nah, he's not here. Um," she looked around to see what other employees were around and lowered her voice. "My dad asked if he could do a job for him." Dean frowned as the words sunk in.

"Job? You mean a hunt?"

She nodded.

"Has he called and checked in with Jack?"

"I doubt it. My dad said it sounded like an easy ghost or poltergeist job."

Dean was taking out his cell phone and hitting send and frowned when he got his little brother's voice mail. "No hunt is ever simple. Where the hell was it?"

"I could call my dad. He's been in Lawrence for a couple of days with my mom visiting my new nephew my older brother and sister-in-law just had."

The conversation was quick with Jack and he offered to come back to go with Dean to find Sam. Dean had denied him and said he could take care of it. Jack had called back saying he spoke to the couple pf the house and they hadn't heard from Sam or seen him and had simply figured he was still dealing with their household problem.

The EMF meter was off the charts when he walked into the house he pocketed it. He thought he'd be a little rusty and yeah maybe he was but it was also like riding a bike and he held the salt loaded sawed off shotgun up as he searched. "Sam!" he barked, his tone commanding a response … he didn't get one. "Dammit Sammy, come on man, you here?"

There was a rush of wind and a growl and the shotgun launched across the front parlor and hit the far wall. He was grabbed by the throat and held against the wall. "Mine," a dark mass hissed in his ear. Dean struggled.

"Screw you," Dean forced out against the pressure on his throat. He fumbled in a pocket for his holy water flask as fingers working at the lid.

"Mine," it hissed again.

"Where's my brother?" Dean demanded as his fingers continued to work on the lid. The mass solidified just enough that he could see a form. It reminded him of a Deava but knew it wasn't.

"Toy broken," its voice sounded disappointed and Dean felt his gut clench.

"I'll kill you, you evil bastard. Send you back to hell." He threw a spray of holy water at the dark form and it withdrew with a wail. Dean did the only thing he could think of, he recited an exorcism. It raged and wailed but in the end with a burst of wind and a deafening scream the entity was gone and he felt the difference the heaviness inside the house was gone, it was clean. Dean wasn't sure where the verbatim recitation came from since that was always Sam's thing … Sammy. He launched into a search and with each empty room his search became more frantic.

Dean ran into the kitchen and noticed a door ajar and realized it led to the basement. He clicked on the light and its pale illumination provided just enough light to see the dark wood steps that led into the dark. The room was dark and smelled musty but he caught the sent of something else, like copper and his heart began to pound against his sternum. He knew the smell … it was blood. He grabbed for a small mag light he had in his pocket and started sweeping the room. "Sammy?" his voice loud yet gentle. "Sammy answer me." His only response was silence. His flashlight beam reached the end of the room and landed on a red smear that fanned downward toward the floor, as if something slid down the wall. The beam of light fell on a crumpled form and Dean's world stopped. Even from across the room he could see how deathly pale Sam was, "Sammy!" he yelled and ran for his brother.

The ambulance ride had been a nightmare of fast images and words conveyed over a radio to an awaiting ER doc … low blood pressure, possible C-spine injury or spinal injury, sluggish pupil response, closed head injury, poor breath sounds on right, unresponsive, had to intubate for low O2 Sats … Dean listened to the words, didn't know what a lot of the medical jargon meant but he latched onto the ones he did and it made him sick. He blocked out the mental images of Sam in the basement and the long wait for help to arrive. He sat staring at Sam, willing him to twitch, to show any sign of life.

"You can hold his hand if you want," the female paramedic encouraged as she leaned back while continue to squeeze a bluish-clear bag attached to the breathing tube snaking down his little brother's throat to help him breath a little better. She didn't have to say it twice. Dean leaned forward and latched onto Sam's cool, slack hand and squeezed gently. He didn't care about pretenses or chick-flick moments this was his little brother and he was fighting for his life. It wasn't a battle Dean was going to let him lose.

"I'm here Sammy," Dean's voice strong and gentle. "I'm not going anywhere, I'm not gonna leave you," and suddenly Dean's mind was taken back to Stull and that fateful day he'd said those words trying to reach his brother when Lucifer was in control. "You can beat this Sammy, you hear me … just keep fighting," he squeezed gently. "I'm right here."

"We're just eight minutes out from the ER now; he'll be in good hands." Dean looked at her and she must have picked up on what he wanted to ask and could see the fear in his eyes. "He's fighting," she encouraged. Dean offered a tight nod and went back to watching Sam and holding his brother's hand.

The ambulance pulled into the bay and Dena had to let go of his brother. He watched Sam whisked away and through doors labeled: Trauma: Authorized Personnel Only.

He was given a clipboard and forms to fill out. The paramedics had asked him about medical history and allergies but the forms were the usual insurance, health history and next of kin information. He scribbled and checked through Sam's wallet for an insurance card, the name never clicking that he was reading.

Dean sat in a hard plastic bank of chairs leaned forward with his hands in his lap … his eyes going from the clock to the trauma doors every time someone came out or equipment was rolled in. Sam had been taken in there over 45 minutes ago and Dean was aching for some word on his brother.

Another twenty minutes later, the door swung open and Dean looked up and met eyes with an older doctor that had salt and pepper hair, he looked tired and there were blood speckles on his scrub shirt. "Family for Sam Campbell," Dean's stomach clenched for news about his brother and the fact his sibling had taken their mother's maiden name.

"I'm Dean, Sam's big brother," he stood and met the doctor half way. "How is he? How's my brother?" Dean's heart raced. "Please …" it was a quiet plea and the doctor's eyes softened.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Gallo. I'd like to speak to you about Sam, please," he motioned for a side room labeled 'family conference' … Dean followed but with each step he felt hollow and alone, certain he'd lost his brother but unable to demand an answer. He followed the doctor suddenly feeling as though he were a lemming following the man off a cliff. He needed to know and struggled to keep the stinging tears at bay, he couldn't lose Sam now, not after all of this, not after just getting him back, he couldn't handle that …

"What about my brother?" Dean's voice was strong, a stark contrast to how he felt. "I need to know."

To Be Continued