Come For You

by Cheryl W

Betrayed by fellow hunters, his odds of surviving to see another day dwindling, Dean still knows one thing for sure: Sam will always come for him. No Slash.

3. Chapter 3: Divided

Come For You

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, or the Sonia Dada song, or Common Law nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author's Note: So I ended up borrowing Wes & Travis from the USA show "Common Law" but they are a little OCC probably, more hardcore and less humorous, at least in this chapter.

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Chapter Three: Divided

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"God won't you deliver me

From the pain and confusion

Growing up in the city streets

In a desperate situation"

For as much as Sam knew he needed professional medical and rescue help for Dean, it was torture being forced to be on the sidelines while strangers decided how to best save his brother's life. And yeah, by sidelines he meant hovering over the paramedics and rescue team's shoulders as they assessed the rebar conundrum and his brother's health. When one young, overeager rescue guy shifted Dean a little in his efforts to see the wall behind the trapped hunter, Dean barely stifled a cry of agony while Sam had no such restraint and bellowed, "Hey, watch it! He's kinda attached to the wall…you know the reason we need your questionable 'help'!" fighting back the urge to shove through the crowd surrounding his brother and handle things himself.

The rescue kid shot Sam a pissed look. "I know what I'm doing, sir," the "sir" a slur of false civility. "We're all highly trained for situations like this."

Sam was about to lay into the punk, tell him his friggin' brother wasn't a "situation" when he sensed Dean's eyes on him. Dean did an exasperation eye roll at the cockiness of the kid and Sam couldn't help but snort in amusement. Leave it up to Dean to make light of the "situation".

At least the paramedics had their heads on straight, had immediately set Dean up with an IV line and started to pack bandages around the entrance and exit wounds to slow down the blood loss. But, while their proficiency should have calmed Sam, it was the urgency in which they acted that scared Sam's spit less. Told him just how seriously Dean was hurt.

His eyes shifting back to his brother, Sam wanted Dean to give him a sign that everything would be ok, like he was still that little kid needing his big brother's strength to quiet his fears. But Dean's wasn't watching him, instead he was focused on whoever was coming down the stairs. When Dean's eyes jumped back to Sam, there was fear in his gaze.

Turning around to take on whatever had upset Dean, Sam stilled when he saw it was two men, both in their late twenties, one black and one white, who had come down into the basement. Though they were sporting plain clothes, Sam didn't miss the state trooper badges clipped to each man's belt, and apparently neither did Dean. It shouldn't have surprised him that state troopers were on the case, considering the trail of bodies Michele had left across Idaho, but that didn't mean the troopers were a welcome addition to the circus all this was turning out to be.

Sam strained to not tense up when the troopers exchanged a surprised look between themselves before crossing over to him. The black cop did the introduction for the pair. "I'm Trooper Travis Marks and this is my partner, Wes Mitchell." Sam gave a closed mouth smile and a nod of his head in return, all the while wishing he, or at least Dean, had a law enforcement badge to pretend this was all on the up and up, some investigation that got messy. But nope, couldn't be that easy. So he had to let the truth win out, that he had found that his brother was danger, came here and did whatever he had to do to save him. All this without mentioning vampires, of course.

Wes filled in the silence. "We understand that's your brother," his eyes going past Sam to the hubbub surrounding Dean.

"Yeah," Sam replied simply, having decided to feel his way around the questions instead of providing answers straight off, got the impression the cops before him were more perceptive than most he had come across.

When Wes' eyes returned their scrutiny to him, Sam got the impression he wasn't going to get off easy just because his brother was hurt. The cop's next words confirmed it. "With a decapitated, burned body outside, blood trails in the first floor of this warehouse and your brother's wounds indicating a struggle, we have a lot of questions and would like you to come down to the local sheriff's station and give your statement."

"Sure, absolutely," Sam readily agreed, tagged on the only thing non-negotiable. "Soon as I know my brother's going to be ok, I'll come to the station and tell you everything I know."

In response, Travis stepped forward, didn't seem intimidated by Sam's superior height but resolutely looked up at the taller man and corrected his assumptions, "Actually, we need you to come with us….now."

Stunned, Sam stammered, "What?! My brother…."shooting a look over his shoulder at Dean, who was seemingly oblivious to his own plight at the moment, was too intently drawn to the proceedings going on with his little brother. Giving Dean a small smile he hoped was encouraging, Sam turned back to the troopers, dropped his voice lower so Dean couldn't hear. "Listen, I will give you any information you want…after they get my brother to the hospital, that I know his injuries aren't life threatening."

Wes stepped forward to be shoulder to shoulder with his partner and inches inside Sam's personal space bubble, "I'm afraid that's not possible."

Fear and anger exploded in Sam's chest and he abandoned his pacifistic front. "I'm not leaving my brother's side," he declared, his tone threatening anyone who got in the way of him keeping that vow.

Sensing the volatile atmosphere, Travis tried to be a peacemaker. "I get that you're concerned for him and we'll keep you apprised of his condition."

"Concerned?!" Sam repeated back darkly. "He's bleeding out with rebar poking out of his stomach. And, of yeah, he's trapped here, could die before they…." Sam bit his lip, knew he was on an emotional edge and him losing it wouldn't help himself…or Dean. Taking in a breath, he tried for mercy, focused on Travis who seemed to have a heart. "He's my brother. Don't you get that I can't leave him, won't leave him, not like this." And he could see some softening in the man's eyes, knew there was a sliver of hope when the black cop turned to his white partner, seemingly intending to plead Sam's case with Wes.

But Wes shot his partner and Sam's hope down right then and there. "That's a nice sob story you have going on there but a private detective was trying to link you to two murders in Jefferson County and now you're at this scene, that's more justification than I need to remand you into our custody right now."

"Link me to the murders in Jefferson County…" Sam sputtered in stunned disbelief, couldn't even guess why they would think he was involved in those killing, especially since he and Dean hadn't been in the state at the time, heck, hadn't even known about the supposed Vetala attacks until Dom…..'Had called asking for our help.' Not able to suppress his anger, Sam cursed aloud, knew that Dom had been building this frame for him, that once Michele had killed Dean, Dom made sure Sam would be on the run, not only for Michele's other victims in the state but for his own brother's death too. That Dom was doing it out of some standpoint of love and protection for Michele didn't soften Sam's fury, not when the man had hoped to send Dean to his grave, when his actions might tear him from Dean's critically wounded side.

Running a hand through his hair, Sam tried to adopt an even tone. "Look, I wasn't even in the state when those murders happened."

"And you know the date of those murders, how?" Wes countered with a 'gotcha tone' and before Sam could refute his assumption of his guilt, the cop was pulling out his handcuffs, intent on following through with his threat.

Heartsick, Sam allowed himself to be jerked around by Wes, felt the first cuff cinch around his left wrist as his eyes met Dean's. Knew as badly as he was taking their pending separation, Dean was taking it worse when Dean gave a furious roar of "No!" and shoved the paramedics hovering over him away.

"Dean, no!" Sam commanded, guessing his brother's intentions. Then Dean gritted out a cry of agony between his clenched teeth as he tried to lever himself forward, free himself of the rebar, determined to climb to his feet and come to Sam's defense.

Sam's reaction was a move of desperation, borne out of his need to not let Dean further jeopardize his health or his life.

Intending to slap the other handcuff around Sam's right wrist, Wes didn't expect the suspect's right elbow to fly toward his face, delivering a blow to his nose that sent shockwaves of pain through his face, not to mention stun him enough to lose his grip on the handcuffs and blur his vision with tears. Then the suspect spun around, handcuffs dangling, and smashed a right cross into his jaw that snapped his head and knocked him to the ground.

Watching their suspect assault Wes, Travis didn't waste time thinking of moves to subdue the taller man, was instead reaching for his gun. But Sam halted Travis' move with a crushing grip on his wrist and drove his knee into Travis's gut, bending the cop over. But instead of pressing his advantage while the troopers were recovering from his blows, Sam did the unthinkable and turned his back on them, went to his brother. Crouching down in front of a still struggling-to-be-free Dean, Sam bracketed Dean's face in his hands, commanded, "Stop, Dean! Stop! Stay still!"

But Dean defiantly shook his head and his fingers clutched desperately onto his brother's coat sleeves even as he tried to move, wanting to get them both away from the cops, from their accusations, knew Sam wouldn't do the smart thing and run, not if he couldn't go with him. "Sam…they think…."

Tightening his hold on his brother's face and his eyes piercing into Dean's pained ones, Sam promised, "I'll be ok, Dean. I will." Let that sink in a moment before he qualified, "I'm ok as long as you are. So…." He tried for a smile but it was more a fractured mask of fear, "stop trying to get up and bleed out. Let the rescue team and the paramedics and the doctors do their thing and I'll get to the hospital as soon as I straighten all this out."

The fight bled away from Dean, leaving him drawing in gasping pained breaths. His "Sam…" came out as a croak and Dean knew it wasn't just the pain and the weakness that was choking him up but the knowledge that it wasn't going to be as easy as Sam made it sound, getting the murder charges cleared up. That between Sam's presence here and Dom's frame job on the other murders, the cops would have enough to hold Sam for a long while even if they never had enough to convict him, and Dean couldn't let that happen, couldn't handle the Mark's presence with Sam's absence. Hated to think of what control he might lose in just the next few hours when his defenses were crumbling under pain and drugs, because the Mark was nothing but opportunistic.

Pulling on a confidence he didn't feel, Sam bragged, "Dean, hey, I was practically a lawyer. I can defend myself."

"Right and last time you were my lawyer, Osiris handed out a guilty verdict," Dean grimly reminded his brother.

"Yeah, because you make a horrible client," Sam replied, keeping his tone lighthearted.

"True," Dean conceded his voice going weak as his eyes slipped shut.

Fisting a hand into Dean's shirt, Sam called out, "Hey! Hey!" causing Dean's eyes to snap out. "I'm only ok if you are, remember. So…you're gonna be ok, right?" he fearfully asked, hoped Dean knew what he was truly asking of him, that he wanted Dean to make a promise and keep to it.

"What? This?" Dean demurred, looking down to the rebar poking out of his flesh before meeting Sam's beseeching gaze. "It'll barely throw off my stats. I'll be back in the game before playoffs coach."

"Dean," Sam tremulously implored, didn't need false comfort and bravado from his brother right then, wanted something he could hold onto, accept as truth.

Reaching up with his blood stained hand, Dean clasped Sam's wrist, vowed, "I won't give up, Sam." because he got it now, that to give up on himself meant to give up on Sam and he couldn't do that, wouldn't do that.

Exhaling in relief, Sam gave Dean a nod of acceptance before he pulled his touch from Dean, obediently put his hands behind his head and lay down on the ground as the cops at his back had been screaming at him to do for the past few moments. Meekly, he let the cuff be snapped over his free wrist and the cops roughly yank him to his feet but it was still immeasurably hard to be frog marched up the stairs, to lose sight of his brother, still pinned and bleeding on the floor and looking so defeated.

And Sam wasn't sure who garnered more of his hatred, Michele for trying to kill Dean, Dom for setting all this up or the cops for thinking that were doing the right thing by taking him away from his brother.

"What could I do different

I was trying to survive

God deliver me"

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Watching Sam get dragged away in handcuffs hadn't just scared Dean, it had pissed him off. This was not how this hunt was supposed to go down. Ok, yeah, when he said yes to the hunt he had looked forward to a little flirting with Michele, a lot of smart mouthing off to Dom and being able to sink a silver knife into a pair Vetalas. The perfect mixture to satisfy himself and the Mark. Win Win.

'Good thinking Dean. Like wiping out the nest in Tulsa to feed the Mark. Tell me again how you're still in the driver's seat?!' And it was getting harder to sell himself that bill of goods, especially with the nightmares encoring every single night, nightmares of Cain's prediction coming true: him taking Crowley's head with the First Blade, plunging an angel sword through Cas' chest…..of Sam turning his back on him and walking away, not heeding his calls for him to not leave him…and the feel of Ruby's knife is his hand as he threw it, as it sank into Sam's back, as his brother toppled over. Dead by his hand.

After, Dean would wake chocking on his brother's name and shivering, wishing, as terror filled him, that he had let Cain finish him with the blade, do what the world's first murderer deemed a kindness.

"I have heard the voice of evil

Speak to me alone

Sitting cold and lonely

And so far away from home"

The paramedic's insistent voice thankfully intruded on Dean's thoughts, had him blinking and looking up, not to a paramedic but some guy only a few years Dean's senior sporting a denim coat over blue medical scrubs, his brunette hair a bit unruly. "Dean, right? I'm Doctor Conner."

"You do…house calls?" Dean asked, knew the doc hadn't originally been among the group hovering around him, crapping in their pants too scared to make a move.

Dr. Conner smiled. "I do on rare occasions, all part of our Spud State, small town hospitality package. I gotta warn you though, it's not covered under Obamacare."

"Shocker there," Dean drawled, appreciated dealing with someone with backbone.

But then the doctor got down to brass tacks. "Dean, the rescue team, they can't get to the rebar, not without jarring you. And if they try to go through the wall and cut the pipe, the entire wall structure may crumble."

That statement had Dean rolling his head to the left, giving the cocky rescue kid a smirk, "Took you forty minutes to determine something I knew five seconds after I got skewered."

The kid had the good grace to blush and step away, confer quietly with his other now unneeded rescue team members.

Turning back to Dr. Conner, Dean croaked out, "Get me out of here already," giving the doctor permission to do what he had to do. Was anxious to get to the hospital and get patched up so he could either bail Sam out of jail or break him out.

"The paramedics have been giving you drugs to thicken your blood to lessen your blood loss but not much in the way of a painkiller and this is gonna hurt," the doctor warned.

"Already hurts," Dean confessed in a rare show of truth.

But the doctor still hesitated. "You're not stable, we're fifteen minutes from the hospital and we won't know the extent of damage until we get you free."

"You want my blessing…you got it," Dean gritted out, but the doctor remained unmoving so Dean growled, "Just do it!"

That prompted the doctor and the paramedics to finally break from their suspension. Putting hands on him, they pulled him forward and up. Dean found that there was no biting back his scream any more than there was swallowing down the tasty tang of blood welling up his throat. Choking and coughing in a panic to draw in breath, he felt the blood slip between his lips, sputter down his chin. "Oh crap," he wheezed, knew that spitting up blood meant internal bleeding, just like he was pretty certain the white light edging his vision wasn't going to abate. And it didn't, spread until it filled his vision right before it started to go dark.

He heard from a long distance away, "Heart rate and blood pressure's dropping. We're losing him!' and Dean was glad Sam wasn't there for this part. He had put Sam through enough lately. Abruptly knew that he didn't want to come back from the other side with Sam hovering over him, didn't want his first act as a reborn demon to be the taking of his brother's life.

Internally he was already composing the letter he would leave for Sam this time: Don't Come For Me…I'm Already Gone.

And then Dean was as good as his word, was gone.

"God won't you deliver me

I've never been before

People say you're watching me

But I'm not really sure"

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"I want my phone call," Sam demanded for the fifth time since the troopers had manhandled him into their vehicle, watched as the two cops exchanged looks before Wes undid the handcuff that bound Sam to the interrogation table while Travis stood far enough back that Sam couldn't attack him and yet close enough to intervene if Sam tried to hurt Wes. Their preparedness was for nothing when Sam docilely let Wes lead him out to a hallway and handcuff him to a bar beside a payphone. Then the troopers left Sam to his privacy.

Snatching the phone off the hook immediately, Sam dialed, was praying that he didn't get voice mail when the wonderful sound of Cas' voice came to him. "Hello?"

Sam's words rushed out of him, "Cas, it's Sam. I need you to come to Gooding Idaho, go to the local hospital and heal Dean."

Concern coated Cas' reply, "What happened?"

Sam choked back the lump in his throat. "What always happens to us. Bad karma. Dean got impaled by rebar in a building and I…I don't know…I'm not there so I don't know how bad…." he faltered, his voice cracking under the fear and guilt consuming him. Drawing in a steadying breath, he knew it did no good to sugarcoat things. "It looked bad Cas."

Detecting a very important anomaly, Cas asked, "Wait, why aren't you in the hospital with Dean?"

Sam ran a not so steady hand down his face, allowed the weariness and raw fear show in his tone, "I got arrested but that doesn't matter. You have to save Dean, make sure…."

Cas knew Sam's fear because it was his own. "I still don't have the ability to fly but I'm in Washington, the state, not the United States' capital."

Relief washed over Sam at the news that Cas would come, was, in fact, close, which was some kind of miracle in their world. "Thanks Cas and tell Dean…" And there were a thousand sappy things he wanted to say to his brother but what he ended up asking Cas to pass on was "Tell him sometimes his choices in women sucks, just like mine does."

Cas understood how the Winchesters dealt with trauma, knew Sam's words were a deflection for the fear that coursed under them. "I'll tell him, Sam," knew his words weren't about passing on Sam's words, were about making sure Dean was alive to hear them, that Sam didn't lose his brother to the Mark again. 'That neither one of us does,' Cas revised as Sam ended the call.

Tucking the phone back into his coat pocket, Cas readily abandoned his lead on Metatron and got in his car. Grabbing the United States map from the back seat, he began mapping out his route to where Dean and Sam were even as he sent the car barreling down the road, exceeding the posted speed limit without remorse. After all, he had forsaken decrees far more important than traffic laws to save his best friend. Didn't think there was much he wouldn't do or risk when it came down to sparing Dean's life…or his soul.

Unbidden Metatron's words echoed in Cas's head.

"Ah, so Gadrel bites the dust. And the angel tablet, arguably the most powerful instrument in history is in pieces. And for what again? Oh that's right, to save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in heaven's flag but ultimately it was all about saving one human, right? Well guess what…he's dead too."

And as much as Cas had wanted to deny Metatron's words, some part of him knew they weren't a lie, had begun to sense the loss already. Felt a part of himself had been taken, not unlike the feeling of having his grace being drained from his soul. But it wasn't until Sam answered Dean's cell phone, brokenly declared, "Dean's dead, Cas," that Cas finally began to grasp the full extent of human grief, of knowing the person you loved, who you deemed a brother, was lost to you. Yet there were worse things, like knowing that his failings had doomed Dean's soul, that evil had taken over the purity of his friend's heart, that the Mark had claimed Dean's humanity and stripped him of his ability to love.

'I can't let that happen again, I won't,' Cas vowed but a spark of doubt in his own abilities flared inside, had him calling out for his absentee Father. 'Please Father, don't let me be too late. Don't let me fail Dean, fail Sam again. You allowed Satan to tempt Job but you never gave him Job's life. Please don't do any less for Dean, don't turn your back on him. Please don't.'

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Sam's leg jumped nervously under the interrogation table, he hated being in the dark, not knowing if Dean was out of the warehouse, was ok. Because the two cops, unlike their promise, hadn't 'apprised him of his brother's condition'. Not once. "Any news on my brother?"

"No," Wes shot him down without looking up from his file of the crime scene.

Sam turned imploring eyes to Travis. "Just tell me he's at the hospital, that he's in surgery…that he's not dead."

That didn't seem an unreasonable request to Travis so he dug out his phone and asked dispatch to transfer him to the hospital. When the connection went through, he asked for an update on Sam's brother, nodded his head as the information came to him, his eyes skirting away from Sam's mid-conversation.

That avoidance had Sam's gut dropping to the floor. Sitting up straight in the chair, he wished the handcuff's didn't limit his reach, that he could snatch the phone from Travis' hand and hear the update on his brother for himself. When Travis ended the call, Sam breathlessly demanded, "Well?"

Travis opened his mouth to give an answer but Wes cut him off.

"How about tit-for-tat, you tell us everything you know, like you promised, and then we'll tell you your brother's condition?"

"Blackmail!? My brother might be dying and you're…." Sam slammed his fist down on the table, causing it to rattle and threaten to collapse. "You're supposed to be the good guys, to have a heart! But it's not about people, it's about looking good with your superiors, getting the case closed, even if you're accusing the wrong people. My brother is the victim in all this!"

"We know that," Wes quietly conceded, a tinge of shame in his features after Sam's accusation.

Sighing, Travis knew Wes' approach was the one with the best chance of success, so he slid his phone away and joined Wes' tactics. "Did your brother try and stop you from killing that woman in the road, is that why you fought? I'm sure you didn't mean for him to get hurt, not like that."

"I didn't do that to Dean!" Sam denied in outrage.

Travis wasn't convinced. "He forgave you, that much was clear. And he'd probably lie to back up whatever story you told. I think a brother who's that loyal to you deserves your loyalty back."

"He has it!" Sam thundered, was so sick of having to defend and prove his devoted to Dean.

It was Wes who challenged, "Prove it. Don't drag him down with you. Tell us he wasn't involved in the murders with you."
"He. Wasn't!" Sam angrily shot back. "And neither was I."

Wes turned to Travis like Sam no longer existed, "He's not gonna tell us the truth so I guess he doesn't care to hear about his brother's condition. Makes me glad I didn't have a brother. I mean…ouch…not caring if your own fresh and blood was alive or dead…."

That was too much for Sam. Using his long legs to his advantage, he kicked Wes' chair over, enjoyed hearing the crash and rush of pained air the man exhaled at his back's jarring impact with the floor. Travis leapt forward to land a blow across Sam's jaw, splitting his lip. But by then Wes was off the ground, grabbing Travis by the torso and hauling him away from Sam.

Bloody lip and eyes blazing, Sam chided the troopers, "If something happens to Dean while you've got me stuck in here listening to your stupid theories, my loyalty to my brother will be the last thing you ever doubt."

"Is that a threat?!" Travis heatedly volleyed back making a move to approach Sam but Wes shoved him out the interrogation door, didn't say a word until he had the door closed behind them. Seeing the looks their volatile exit from the interrogation room had garnered, Wes pulled Travis down the hallway into a spare office and shut the door.

Travis jerked out of Wes' hold and paced the small length of the room. "We're getting nowhere with him!"

Wes ran a frustrated hand down his face. "No, we're not." Then he leaned against the desk in the room. "So…how's his brother doing?"

The question had Travis stilling and his expression changed before Wes' eyes from angry frustration to sympathetic understanding.

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If there was one thing Dr. Patrick Conner hadn't ever gotten used to, it was the way someone could be talking and seemingly in stable condition one minute and then flat-lining the next. It made him realize that he wasn't in control, was just delusional enough on occasion to think that he was.

Case in point: the guy from the warehouse. Pretty strong pulse for as much blood loss as he had suffered, blood pressure amazingly good, he had been coherent, heck, impatient and ballsy in the face of his pain and his untenable position. Until they levered him off the rebar, then everything went belly up.

Cursing Patrick bent over and held his bowed head in his hands, heard the ICU chair creak underneath his shifting weight. They shouldn't have moved him, should have found a way to keep in the rebar while they got him to the trauma center. Should have done something different.

Drawing in a breath to get himself back together again, Patrick lifted his head, took in the sight of the man barely alive in the ICU bed. His vitals had bottomed out at the warehouse but he got him back, yes, but there was more to saving a person's life than getting a heart to beat again. They had staunched the internal bleeding but were unable to determine as of yet if the brain had been compromised by the blood loss and oxygen deprivation when they lost him in the warehouse. Didn't know if his nicked colon would heal or stop functioning any moment now. Didn't have any indication if he would regain consciousness.

And on top of all that gloom and doom, there was no one to fight at the man's side, to tell him to not go. Patrick learned an hour ago while standing watch outside the recovering room that held his patient, that he had apparently missed all the excitement with the man's brother, had arrived after the Idaho troopers had taken the brother away in handcuffs, but not before the brother put up a struggle to not be yanked away from his brother's side. "Your brother, he knew you'd need him at your side, goading you to suck it up and be ok, right? I mean, I have two brothers and there's nobody that spurs me into doing stuff I don't want to do more than those two. They taunted me into asking out the prettiest girl in school…and laughed when she turned me down cold. And they threatened to kick my butt if I wussed out and quit medical school when I was so close to graduating. Course now they think they deserve free medical care from me after they go and do some crazy motorcycle stunt that nearly puts them into traction," smiling at the audacity of his brothers, but the gesture faded quickly when his patient remained stoically unresponsive. "Hope it's ok if I hang out with you awhile until your brother gets here." When there was no protest, he sighed and settled back into the chair.

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Left alone in the interrogation room, Sam slammed his palms down on the table and hung his head. He had never felt such a hatred for police officers like he did right then. Well, wait, Agent Henriksen had rated right up there at the top when he threatened to incarcerate he and Dean in separate prisons, said that he'd never see his brother again. But then again, these troopers and Henriksen had a parallel trait: they made it their ambition to separate he and Dean.

But, logically, Sam knew the troopers here were simply blind to the real evidence. That Dom was the SOB that deserved his full-fledged hatred for getting him locked up while Dean was, hopefully being rushed to the hospital. And if he thought sending the cops to where he had Dom stashed would get him released, he would do it in a heartbeat. But Dom had made this frame-up a good one, had already established himself as the good guy, a private investigator on the road seeking the killer, had cast Sam in the villain role. And if the cops brought Dom in, that's the story he would tell and Sam didn't doubt he had more evidence against Sam all lined up to be revealed.

Sam punched the tabletop, imagined it was Dom's face he was plummeting. Would do far worse to Dom when he finally got sprung and after he had Dean tucked back at the Bunker on the mend. 'On the mend, you don't even know if Dean's alive?!' And his only comeback was, 'he has to be.' There was no other outcome Sam could endure. His brother just had to be alive.

"Sitting cold and lonely

And so far away from home

In the darkness of the prison cell

I hear the angry screams

Crying out to no one

In a place where no one dreams

God won't you deliver me"

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Patrick swore that one minute he was alone in the room, filling out charts and the next a brown haired man in a trench coat was at his patient's side. "Are you a family member?" he posed, causing the man's head to snap in his direction. Indicating the man had been unaware of his presence until he spoke.

There was a minuscule pause before the man's low voice answered with a unyielding "Yes," as if he expected Patrick to question that proclaimed connection to the injured man.

But Patrick didn't doubt the man's claim, saw the worry and the love and the protectiveness in the blue eyes that seared into him. Coming to his feet, he crossed to Cas and held out his hand, misguessed that this was Dean's infamous brother, newly sprung from jail, he greeted "I missed you at the warehouse. I'm Doctor Conner and I was your brother's surgeon."

With a beat of awkwardness, Cas reached out his hand and shook the doctor's hand. Considered not correcting the doctor's assumption before he thought of how Sam would feel about his deception but in the same breath, he needed to claim a familiar relationship to Dean. So he said the one that felt most true, "I'm Dean's brother…. from another mother." Which technically wasn't an out and out lie. Dean felt like his brother and Mary Winchester wasn't Cas' biological mother. Then Cas struggled to find the right terminology. "Half brother, that's what Dean is to me. Sam, Dean's younger brother, was the one at the warehouse."

"Aaahhhh…ok," Patrick responded to the man's stilted conversational skills. "Well, I can update you on Dean's condition."

"Yes, please," Cas said, his eyes worriedly dropped to Dean's entirely too still form, cringed at the pain he felt emanating off his friend, noted the paleness of Dean's skin and the shallowness of his breathing. Ached to heal Dean immediately, but knew he couldn't until the doctor left the room.

"The rebar nicked his colon, causing internal bleeding and sever blood loss. Though we were able to stitch the tear in the colon, his vitals are weak. He's not regained consciousness and we don't know if there's been any brain damage due to the blood loss or lack of oxygen when he stopped breathing at the warehouse," Patrick explained, waited for Dean's brother to lash out at him for the pessimistic news, to accuse him of not acting appropriately at the warehouse by moving Dean, but Dean's brother simply said, "I see."

Cas fought down a wave of panic at the doctor's grim news and it took a great deal of strength to not reach out to heal Dean even in the presence of the doctor. Tearing his eyes from Dean, he met the doctor's surprisingly apprehensive gaze. "Can I be alone with him?"

Feeling as if he were being miraculously left off the hook for his failures, Patrick gave a quick nod of his head. "Sure, absolutely" but he stopped at the door and turned back to his patient's brother. "I know it's not medically sound but….I think he just needs to know he's not alone, that someone's in this fight with him, won't let him go."

Cas tilted his head, stated, not in effrontery but incredulity that his loyalty was even being questioned, "That last thing I will do..or Sam will do is let him go."

Patrick couldn't hold back a bittersweet smile. "Great, now tell him that," nodding to Dean's motionless form before he left the room, knew that medically they had done all they could for his patient, that now it was time for his brother to do what brothers did best: taunt you, goad you and bribe you until you caved and did what they wanted you to do, just to shut them up.

With the doctor's departure, Cas settled his hand over Dean's forehead, felt his friend's pain as if it were his own, felt also the corrupt whispering of the Mark trying to coil around Dean's soul, strangle out his friend's noble heart. Using his grace, he sought to repair the man's broken body, to beat back the Mark into the hole Dean struggled to keep it locked away in. But the Mark's hold wasn't so easily maneuvered, slipped through his grasp and hid in his friend's darker depths, refusing to be stifled. And when Cas' grace could not fully heal Dean's injuries, the angel knew it was the Mark's doing, that it knew that if Dean's health was completely restored, it would set back its ambitions.

But Cas persisted, tried to give as much of his grace to Dean as he could, to heal him and to beat back the Mark. Sagging in weakness, Cas collapsed into a chair, his hand falling from Dean's forehead to rest on his friend's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Dean. The Mark…it won't allow me to fully heal you. But I did what I could and you are no longer in danger of dying." Wished Dean would prove that statement to him, open his eyes and make fun of his inability to heal him fully, say something about his batteries not being fully charged or his mojo being on strike..or something that meant his friend wasn't beat by his injuries or the Mark.

Accepting the wisdom of the doctor's advice and thinking of what Sam would say if he were there in his place, Cas leaned over close to Dean and vowed, "You're not alone. I'm fighting for you, Dean. Sam is fighting for you and we won't let you go. And oh…Sam says your choice in women suck. And in light of my past romantic interludes, I don't think my choices are ..prudent either. After I made love to April, she killed me and if that is how romance is supposed to turn out, there would be no one alive to procreate." Cas gave a hopefully look to Dean, waiting for his friend to roll his eyes at his total lack of comprehension of human's interaction. But Dean still didn't move, causing Cas to clutch onto Dean's shoulder with a little more desperation. "Dean, if you could wake up now I'd appreciate it" then Cas sat there, waiting for his friend to open his eyes, to prove to him all over again that Dean Winchester's will wasn't something easily defeated, especially when his friends..his family had need of him.

"There's a crying angel over me

That is keeping me alive

God deliver me" **

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When the interrogation door opened, Sam braced himself for round two of the Troopers game of 'pin the monster murder on the hunter' but his eyes widened as none other than Sheriff Jody Mills entered the room. "Jody, what are you doing here?!"

"Your angel friend Cas called Claire to get in contact with me and he told me that Dean was hurt and you were in jail. And since my resume doesn't include miracle healing, I thought I'd try my hand at getting the murder charges dropped or you remanded into my custody."

"Jody, I would hug you if I could! Have you seen Dean? Is he ok?" Sam excitedly rambled.

"I came here first," Jody announced claiming a seat across from Sam.

Sam's face fell. "What?! Why?! Dean's seriously hurt and I haven't heard any news…"

Jody reached across and captured Sam's fisted hand. "He's in ICU, that's all they would tell me." She saw the way that news hit Sam…right in the heart but he bravely nodded, accepted the good in the news that was there, that Dean was alive, seriously hurt but still alive.

'Dean's not dead..or a demon, focus on that,' Sam coached himself before he captured Jody's hand in his. "Go to him, Jody. Cas is coming but he might not be there yet…"

"And if I show up there without you, Dean will flip out," she pointed out, giving Sam her motherly soft encouraging smile. "Then whatever good the docs did he'll undo trying to come to your rescue."

Impishly, Sam grinned, "Ah, yeah, that scene already played out today."

"Yup, just like I predicted. So, let's get you sprung then we can both ream out your brother for giving us more grey hairs. Deal?" Jody posed, knew that it wasn't easy for Sam to not be at his brother's side when he was hurt, helpless to protect himself if some monster came knocking.

Pulling on a tremulous but real smile, Sam agreed, "Deal."

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TBC

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** Song is "Deliver Me" from Sonia Dada's album.

Thanks so much for lavishing love on last chapter! And I appreciate anyone who's spoiling me by reading this chapter! Hope you are still enjoying the story and welcome Cas & Jody's inclusion.

Have a great day! And I send out my gratitude and love for those presently in the US military service and those we've lost. Your personal sacrifices were not in vain. We honor you on Memorial Day.

Cheryl W.