Disclaimer: I don't own it, but I did just see a trailer at the cinema for Supernatural on ITV2

Okay, I wasn't going to do a second chapter, and its just another one-shot, written before Faith, and since it was so different, I figured I'd post it anyway.

"A faith healer?" Dean chorused in disbelief. He stared at Sam for a moment. His brother, god bless him and his teary eyes, had been a complete train wreck. His eyes, red, and puffy, betrayed his obvious sadness and Dean felt more and more guilty as each moment passed and he was forced to keep eye contact. He had knelt by his bed side and rattled on and on about various chick-flick situations, and how he wouldn't leave him, not now, not ever.

And as uncomfortable as this made Dean, he didn't once comment on it, choosing instead to smile and nod.

That was until now.

He had encouraged (more like forced) Sam to take a walk, to get out of the hospital, despite the fact that he had done so only some three hours earlier. But upon Sam's return, it was clear his attitude had lightened. His eyes were clear, almost alight with some kind of happiness, and though Dean wanted more than anything for Sam to be happy, he still found it rather rude. He was dying after all. Though he would laugh in its face for as long as possible if it meant he was able to accept it just that little bit easier.

And then Sam had told him, he had explained all about this Roy LeGrange and his supposed healing abilities. Any other time, Dean might have gotten up, interested by this clearly supernatural phenomenon, but right now, he preferred to raise his eyebrow, and become the cynic he hated to be. Sam wasn't just saying it casually. He wanted Dean to go there, to be healed.

"Dean, you promised you'd let me help you-"

"Yeah; fluffing my pillow, luring pretty nurses to my bedside, not going to see some whack-job in a tent!"

"Dean!" Sam reprimanded, having made himself believe it was the right thing, the only thing, to do, to be done. "For once in your life just shut your mouth."

Dean paled visibly, which was quite something seeing as his pallor was already close to ghostly. For a moment Sam didn't understand, but as he neared his brother, and was met by a violent flinch on Dean's part, he stopped in his tracks instantly.

"Oh god," He began, stammering, "Dean, I didn't mean it like that, I just-."

"Why don't you go get a cup of coffee or something, Sam?"

Sam nodded, trying to draw some saliva into his dry throat. Shaking his head in disbelief at his own careless actions, as he edged out of the room. Was this how it was always going to be? Was he always going to be held accountable for his deeds?

Wasn't that what he deserved? God, he had shot his own brother, almost in cold blood. A part of him wanted to be held accountable for ever, just so he could feel better as he knew he was being treated accordingly with his own, and others, guilt.

But the other part of him wanted to forget it all, and wished Dean could do the same. He just wanted to help, he wanted things back to normal, but it wasn't going to happen. Not now, not with Dean-

"You're taking him to see Roy?" The nurse asked as Sam grabbed his cup of coffee, snapping him out of his morbid thoughts. He turned to look at her, staring for a moment.

"Nurse Matthews," She said, adjusting the charts to rest under her arm as she held out a hand to be shaken.

"Sam," He said, weary

"I overheard your conversation with your brother," She nodded back to the ward to his right, "about a Faith Healer."

He had expected this from the staff, after all, they were working in medicine, and it was no surprise that they might be a little sceptical, but Nurse Matthews was so far only neutral, in her question.

"Yeah, I can't just give up."

"Oh no, don't ever give up, it's just-."

She stopped, sighing, wondering for a moment if she should leave it, and question herself on whether or not it was her place to tell others how to handle death.

"It's just what?" Sam pressed, not letting go that easily.

"Well it's a little cruel isn't it?"

Sam blanched, he hadn't expected that.

"All of these people are ill," She pointed to the Ward, "And around their families and friends they're strong, and they've accepted it, but it's all a lie, once they're alone, they're terrified, they're sad, upset, not one of them wants to die, no matter what they tell you."

Sam swallowed, his brother had been everything she had described; strong and accepting, but had the rest been true, about his state when Sam would be ushered away in the night? Was Dean like that now, as he stood next to the crude vending machine talking to the Nurse? He suddenly wanted to end the conversation quickly, but then it occurred to him that Dean would hate to be caught upset, so he banished the thoughts of running away.

Dean looked up at the Nurse, who had stopped talking after seeing Sam turn away, but now, as she kept eye contact, she continued earnestly.

"I know you want to save your brother Sam, he's a good man, but is it fair to get his hopes up like that?"

"What do you mean? You think he's a fraud." And just like that, Sam had turned the conversation to business. He had veered into the realm of interrogation. "You sounded like you knew Roy." He said, referring to her casual interruption earlier, she hadn't merely referred to the healer, by surname or profession but by his first name.

"He was here not too long ago, in this hospital." She said simply, and it seemed to answer the pressing question of how she knew him. "I've seen some of the worst case scenario's play out for the good, but what if this doesn't work? You really think Dean's gonna be able to handle that?"

"I can't just sit there and do nothing!"

"I'm not suggesting you do Sam but-."

"No! I am taking him to the healer, and he's going to be fine!"

"It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself more than me."

She had gone too far but she couldn't turn back on her own words, she had been brought up to stand by her opinion, place or no, she couldn't let the young man walk away without considering the possibility that maybe he was being selfish, that maybe, just maybe, there was only one alternative, and that was to live life to the full, and spend every last moment with his brother and helping him through the hardship instead of sending bitter glances around to others should this healer not step up to the pedestal that was gaining height with every moment Sam spoke in his defence.

He looked down, caught out, his hands shaking, his anger getting the best of him as he became more and more frustrated. Why couldn't she see this needed to be done?

She took them in her own, mindful of the cup of now lukewarm coffee, and her hands felt so soft against his own rough palms, she squeezed, trying to comfort him and she let them fall down to his sides, still clutching the unwanted beverage.

"You do what you have to, Sam, but, be careful."

He would be careful. More than careful. He would save Dean, he would save his brother, and be damned at the consequences, and he wouldn't go through this alone. He couldn't. He would save his brother.

He would save his Dean. His rock, anchor, and pain in the ass.

He would grab his brother from the clutches of certain death, he would pull him back, pull him far away, he would clutch him though the Winchester's were famed for their lack of touchy-feely-self-help-yoga-crap as Dean had so aptly put it once not so long ago.

He would save him, because he didn't know what he'd do if he didn't. He had become dependant. He had been dependant on his brother as children, but during the absence of any brotherly attributes in college he had gotten close to Jess. Dependant on her love and support. And then poof, she was gone, in not a puff of smoke, but a huge billowing cloud brought on by the flames engulfing her.

He had become dependant on Dean, and now out of some cruel joke and twist of face, he was going to get taken to? Well no, Sam wouldn't stand for it. Sammy would not let his brother die, because he owed him that much if not so much more.

He swallowed, before heading back to the ward. Taking tentative steps aware of his brother's hesitance. What did it matter? For once, for last, maybe, he was the protector, and it was up to him to save the day, and by god he would do it with style.

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