Disclaimer: If this were mine, the show would consist of nothing but chick-flick moments and brotherly schmoop. Also, Big Brother!Dean would be out in full force. He's not; therefore, Supernatural does not belong to me.

AU after episode 7x04

Again, thanks to any and everyone that read, reviewed, story-alerted, story-favorited, etc!

Dean had woken Bobby up and was at the town a couple of hours later. The wall was exactly like the pictures on the website. Just now he saw what the blogger had left out: it was all blood. Every single sigil was painted in blood along the wall. And that was a lot of blood. A hell of a lot of blood. So needless to say, they had looked around and gotten out of there as quickly as possible. Because honestly, it was giving Dean mental images he didn't need.

"What's going on, Bobby?" Dean asked, dropping his useless cell phone on the bed. He had hoped coming here would help, give him some kind of lead to Sam. Did it? No. Not really. All it gave him was fifty more questions and no answers. Another attack? It was possible. But that meant whatever this thing was must have been targeting hunters. No one else would know the angel banishing sigil. Not that said-sigil did them any good, he thought wryly. Not that it did Sam any good.

"I mean, first Sam disappears with angel sigils carved into his freaking car and now this?" Dean stood, pacing back and forth, running his hand through his short hair. Bobby was sitting at the table, surfing the internet for something, anything. He was just as desperate as Dean was because yeah, it had been days and they were absolutely no closer to finding Sam than they were back when he first disappeared. "What idiot would draw that many symbols? And why? And I mean, what angel is even freakin' left!? Didn't Cas kill like, all of them?" Sighing, Dean sank into the chair across from Bobby, staring out the window. "And where is Sammy?" he finished quietly.

He stared at the parking lot as if it would give him all the answers. And he really wished it would because then he would knowand he'd find Sam and bring him home - not that they really had one. He wished concrete was all-knowing. You know how much trouble that would have saved him? Though, if the answers were bad, then maybe he didn't want the parking lot to tell him. He would rather search for the rest of his life than believe that Sam was dead. Again. Because he couldn't be. Simple as that.

Dean sighed in disappointment before turning back to the table, looking at the pictures they had taken of all the sigils. He just stared at them, barely seeing. He didn't know what he was looking for and that tended to make it difficult to find. The image started to swirl, becoming a red blob and he realized that he hadn't blinked. He supposed he should do that...

But that was when his phone rang.

Dean lunged for the bed, nearly braining himself on the corner of the table. Instead, he caught his thigh on it hard enough that it would most likely bruise spectacularly. It hurt, he vaguely realized, but it could all be worth it depending on who was on the other end of the phone. Frantically, he fumbled to get the device the right way around, flipping it open.

"Sammy!?" he demanded, trying to get his hands to stop shaking. He was silently begging a very absent God that hadn't listened to anything he asked about Sam in the past to let it be Sam and to let him be okay. It was quiet for a moment and he was about to call out again when a distinctly not-Sam voice came over the line. And didn't that just suck? As a result, Dean decided that thisvoice was definitely not worth the injury. Especially not when the adrenaline was replaced with disappointment and his leg started to ache. He'd had worse obviously. But was this injury for a good cause? Nope.

"Dean? Dean Winchester?" a woman asked. She sounded upset. Pulling his phone away from his ear, he looked at the caller-id and determined that it wasn't Sam's phone that had called him. Damn it. He should really work on checking that before he answered the phone from now on. Though, it could have been Sam calling from another phone so it didn't really matter if he'd checked the ID or not; he would have answered anyway.

"Who is this?" he snapped. This person had allowed him to get his hopes up that his brother was calling him. This person was not Sam. Therefore, this person needed to hang up right now or be exposed to a very pissed off Dean Winchester.

There was a brief pause, almost as if the woman was debating whether or not to tell him. "Kathleen." Dean sighed, sinking down onto the bed. She should have debated longer and come to the opposite conclusion. Hadn't she already caused enough trouble? Sam was gone, Sam was missing, largely because of her. And yes, Dean heard the little voice in the back of his head that informed him he couldn't blame her because it was his fault. And yes, Dean was ignoring said-little voice. He was about to tell her to go piss off when she started talking again."I know you're angry. I can feel it over the phone which is pretty astounding. Great job there, but uh… You need to get Sam here. Now."

Dean stood up, suddenly on red alert. "Why? What's going on?" He moved over to Bobby, placing the phone on speaker and setting it on the table. Bobby looked just as confused as he was which was kind of disappointing. It was Bobby's psychic. Shouldn't he be able to tell Dean why it was he needed to get his missing little brother to her house? Still, even if he did know where Sam was, barring life-threatening circumstances, it was very unlikely they'd be going back there on their own freewill.

"Look I uh… can't explain right now. You just need to get him here. Stop arguing with me and get him to my house."

"You know, I'd love to. You have any frickin' idea where my brotheris?" he demanded because yeah, this whole thing was at least partially her fault and yeah, he was pissed at her. If she had kept her big mouth shut, Sam would be here. With him. Where he was supposed to be, where Dean could watch out for him. But she didn't keep her big mouth shut and here they were.

"Uh… I uh… um…" That was when Dean's phone beeped, signaling he had another call. Looking over suspiciously at Bobby, he picked up his phone and froze when he read the caller-id. At that moment, everything else faded away, including the nonsensical babbling of the psychic.

Taking the phone off speaker he said a clipped, "Call ya back," and hit the talk button. "Sammy?" he half-pleaded, listening closely for his brother's voice. He half-wondered if he should thank God because maybe, for once, he had given in to his pleading. That thought melted away though when there wasn't an answer. Someone was breathing he was pretty sure, though that could have just been wind. But again, someone had to dial the number right? Someone had Sam's phone and it had better be Sam. "Sam?" he asked again.

It was silent for another moment and Dean was just about to go postal on whoever this was. But that was when the small voice came over the line,"Dean." Dean sagged in relief, his knees nearly giving way. His brother was alive. Sam was alive. Not that Dean had ever doubted that, not for one instant, because Sam wasn't allowed to be dead. But once the reassurance came, it made the metal brace that had surrounded his heart the last couple days release.

"Oh god," he sighed, sinking down onto the edge of the bed and scrubbing his free hand down his face. "Don't you ever—"

"Dean?" Sam's voice came again, whispered and pained and Dean instantly knew that something was wrong. Very very wrong. Dean took back the thanks he had sent upward because he had asked for Sam to be okay. Sam was obviously not okay and the metal brace refit itself around his chest.

"Sammy, what's wrong? Where are you?" Dean stood up, starting to pace. He didn't even realize he was doing it. It was just that it wasn't in his nature to sit and do nothing when his brother was in trouble. Because he could literally feel that Sam was in trouble, that he needed help.

"Dean? What is it?" Bobby asked, starting to stand up. Dean just shook his head, mouthing that he had no idea. It was bad, he knew that but until Sam told him, he wouldn't know how bad.

"What's wrong? Sam, where are you?" Dean repeated because they needed to start somewhere. And those were the basics, right? Generally easy questions to answer.

There was another long pause and then a shaky, "I- I don't know," came over the line. Dean froze in place, shooting a glance at Bobby who was watching him avidly, trying to figure out what was going on. What did that even mean? He didn't know? Sam was there. Sam was just on the other end of the phone and Dean wished they had invented the technology that would allow him to reach through and pull his brother out. They hadn't though and he was practically vibrating with the need to do something. But he hadn't been given a direction yet and he was practically locked in place.

"What do you mean you don't know? What's going on, Sam?" he demanded, voice coming out far harsher than he had intended but he was starting to panic here. Sam was supposed to know. If he was semi-lucid he would know. And that was scaring him.

"I- I don't-" Dean's heart broke when Sam let out a choked sob. "Ithurts, Dean."

Dean ran his hand through his hair. His pacing had shortened to about half its previous distance, shortened to the point where he was taking a step in each direction before turning around. He didn't have the attention span or the patience for more. "Okay. Okay, it's okay, Sammy. Just tell me what's going on," Dean said, using the same voice as when he used to talk Sam down from his nightmares. It was in direct contrast to what he was feeling and he was surprised he had managed to do it at all. When he panicked, he yelled, barked orders, like their Dad. But Sam didn't need that, not now.

There was another long pause and another choked sob before a quiet, "I don't know,"reached Dean's ears.

"What do you mean you don't know!?" Dean demanded, losing the calm he had forced on himself moments before. Sam was hurt, could be dying for all he knew, and Sam couldn't tell him where the hell he was. Dean was too close this time. He had Sam on the phone. He was right there. He'd be damned if he didn't find him now.

"Dean. I- I think-" A horrible retching sound interrupted Sam's words and Dean half-wondered how much harder he could squeeze his phone before it broke. His knuckles were already white. He forced himself to relax because yeah, breaking the phone wouldn't do anyone any good. "I think I need you…"

Dean swallowed thickly, the quiet admission settling in his chest and making him ache. He felt his own eyes fill with tears because Sam wasn't okay and Sam needed his big brother and said-big brother had no idea where said-Sam was. "Okay," Dean said quietly, moving to the other side of the room. He didn't really think about why. He just knew he needed to be alone so he moved as far away from Bobby as he could get. It had always been that way though. When Sam was hurt or in trouble, it was Dean's responsibility. "Okay, Sammy. I'm gonna be there. I'm leaving right now but you gotta tell me where you are. Just calm down… Deep breaths and tell me what's around you. Do you see any street signs? Anything?"

There was a quiet choking noise on Sam's end before Sam started speaking again, "Um… there's a uh…godDean…" Sam broke off with a whimper of pain, making Dean flinch. He looked to Bobby who was already packing up. Dean hoped to god that Sam wasn't that far. And he realized with a physical jolt that things were so much worse than he had imagined. He was dying. He could hear it in Sam's voice. Sam was dying and there was nothing he could do about it except listen and obviously, that wasn't nearly enough.

"Shhh, Sammy," he said quietly, relying on every big brother instinct he had to try and get Sam to focus on his voice. "Just me, Sam. Just focus on my voice. I'm right here, little brother. You're not alone. Just look around you. Open your eyes and tell me what you see."

Sam coughed then said quietly, "Um… Fifth and Landon… Alleyway… Dumpsters… Maine… I… I uh… I- I- don't… GPS... I can... can turn it..." There was another retching sound and Dean felt one of the tears he had been fighting escape down his cheek as he started towards the door, not really caring that he still didn't have a direction to go.

He looked at Bobby who was watching him with wide-eyes, aware that something was very, very wrong even if he couldn't hear it himself. "GPS," Dean repeated, looking at Bobby pointedly who flipped open the laptop, hopefully locating Sam's phone. That was when Dean realized that they really had no idea where he was. He could be halfway across the state at which point Dean would get there just in time to identify Sam's body.

That couldn't happen. He would get on a plane if he had to. Hell, he would frickin' fly the thing himself if it would get him there faster. Not that it would because of the logistical issues but that wasn't the point.

"Dean!" Bobby called, looking at him with a strange combination of relief and concern. "He's here. He's in this town." He quickly gave Dean directions and Dean was peeling out of the motel parking lot less than an instant later. The squeal of tires went ignored as he pulled onto the main road, not even thinking about his car at that moment. He was pretty sure that was a first.

"Sammy? Still with me, kid?" he asked, turning right. Five more turns. Five more blocks and he'd be there. He'd be there and Sam would be fine. But his mind ignored his reassurances focusing on how unfine Sam sounded. Because he wasn't fine. And Dean, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, knew that.

"De—" Another retching sound tore its way out of Sam's throat and Dean pressed harder on the pedal, speeding through a debatable yellow light. At this moment, in Dean's narrowed world, red meant speed up. He wasn't sure how fast he was going because he didn't bother to look but it definitely wasn't anywhere within the range of the speed limit. The last thing he needed was to get pulled over by a cop. Not that he would because to be pulled over by a cop you'd actually have to pull over, something he wasn't going to do until he got to Sam.

"Stay with me," Dean ordered. "Do notgo to sleep, Sam!"

"Won't," Sam promised quietly. "Can't sleep… He comes… He's… no sleep…"

Dean didn't know what Sam was talking about but then, it was something to keep him talking and if he was talking, he was awake, which meant he was alive. "Who comes, Sammy?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm, a task far easier said than done when his hands were shaking so bad he almost dropped his cell phone.

"He's… T-" Another cough tore its way out of Sam's throat. "There's them… Can't sleep 'cuz they come… Can't… Won't let me…"

"Sam!" Dean barked, slamming his fist against the car's steering wheel and promising himself he'd apologize later. "Stay awake!"

"Not… Not gunna… Fall 'sleep 'cuz hecomes…Dean… Don' wanna… Fall—" A harsh hacking, gagging, choking cough came through the phone line and it didn't stop. Dean shouted Sam's name, multiple times as he listened to his brother fight to breathe, fight for his life. And this time, it was a fight Dean was too late for, seconds too late for.

"Sammy!" he shouted again, pulling up at the curb and jumping from the car, not even bothering to turn the engine off.

"Need- De-"

And then the phone went quiet.

A/N 2: Cliffhangers! Aren't they fun?