Disclaimer: I do not own anything from "Supernatural". This story is an addition to the episode "Shadows", because what was said between Dean and Sam wouldn't leave me alone.

Don't Leave Me

They drove to the new motel in silence, Dean refusing to even look at Sam. Sam knew something was terribly wrong when Dean didn't even turn a tape on. "Dean…" Sam began, but Dean didn't even acknowledge he had been spoken to, simply staring out the front window as he maneuvered the Impala into the dark parking lot.

Dean immediately headed into the room. Sam stayed behind for a moment, both to unload the weapons out of the trunk and to figure out exactly what he was going to say to Dean. Knowing full well how much he had hurt Dean, though Dean would never admit it, Sam had to make things right.

Striding into the room, Sam found himself in utter darkness. "Dean, why didn't you turn the light on?" Sam asked, flicking the switch. What he saw made him drop the bag of weapons and run to his brother's side, dropping to his knees beside Dean.

Dean lay pale and shaking on the floor by the door, his face contorted in pain, his shirt front heavy with dark blood. Biting his lip hard, Sam lifted Dean's shirt front as gently as he could.

Slash marks had carved a deep grotesque pattern in Dean's stomach, and now blood pumped freely from the shredded skin. Fighting back tears, Sam took his jacket off and pressed it onto Dean's stomach, causing a cry to rip from Dean's mouth.

"I know it hurts, Dean, but I have to stop the bleeding." His arms shaking, Sam stared into Dean's eyes. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you were hurt this badly?"

"Leave…" Dean gasped out, his body involuntarily curling in on itself to try to stop the pain.

"No, I'm not leaving you!" Sam lifted a hand to brush back Dean's hair from his sweat-soaked brow. "You're bleeding, I think you've got a fever…I'm not going anywhere." Dean's back suddenly arched, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he lapsed into unconsciousness.

"Dean!" Getting no response, Sam gently scooped his brother into his arms, hurrying for the car. Laying Dean gently in the backseat, Sam broke all the speed limits and sped through every red light to get to the hospital.

Running into the hospital, Dean in his arms, Sam pounded on the front desk. "My brother…we were attacked by a gang…they sliced him up really bad." A doctor came running out, and within minutes Dean was in a hospital bed, doctors and nurses swarming around him in an attempt to stop the bleeding and bring the fever down.

Dean was mumbling, words incoherent to everyone but Sam. "Sammy, get out…normal life…let me go…Stanford….friends….go, Sammy…" Suddenly the words stopped, and so did Dean's heart, as the monitors flared in a hideous cacophony of screeching flat lining.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed, pushing through the crowd of doctors to grab Dean's limp hand, and as Sam stared at the monitors he suddenly understood. Leaning in close to Dean's ear, Sam whispered fiercely, tears making his voice thick, "This isn't what I want, Dean, this isn't what I want!"

Sam was lightly shoved aside by a nurse, who began resuscitating measures on Dean's still form. "Damnit!" Sam's anguished cry was wrenched from somewhere deep in his chest, and he shoved the nearest table with all his might, sending it smashing into the wall, pills and glass flying everywhere. Sam punched his fist into the wall over and over again, blood spurting from his smashed knuckles and dripping down the wall.

"We've got a pulse!" a doctor suddenly yelled, and the wall opened to let Sam through. Gripping Dean's hand, their blood merging together, Sam let out a sob, bringing his head down until it rested on Dean's barely-moving chest.

Sam stayed that way until morning, and so it was that when Dean finally opened his eyes eight hours later, Sam's head was on his chest, one hand gripping Dean's hand, the other flung protectively over Dean's stomach. "Sammy," Dean said softly, and Sam's head instantly jerked up, his eyes meeting Dean's.

"You fucking asshole!" Sam yelled, jumping up and staring Dean down. "You stupid bastard!" Striding towards the window, Sam quickly strode back, cycling back and forth, unable to sit still.

"Not exactly what I expected." Dean's voice stayed soft as he followed his brother with his eyes, the manic pacing Sam seemed unable to halt.

"After you pulled that shit last night? What the hell did you expect?" Slamming his hands down on the side of Dean's bed, Sam stared his brother down. "Don't think I don't know what you were doing. You were just going to let yourself die." Dean stared off into space, unable to meet his brother's eyes. Unwilling to let him get away with that easy move, Sam grabbed Dean's chin, moving his head until Dean had to look at Sam.

"What, you thought you'd be freeing me?" Sam's anger made the room tremble. Dean would swear he actually saw things moving.

"Yeah, Sammy, I did," Dean admitted, closing his eyes. A light pressure on his eyelids made him open them again, just in time to see Sam pull his hand back. "I knew I was in shit shape, and this way you wouldn't have to be my luggage anymore. This way you could just leave now."

"You are such a stupid bastard, you know that, right?" Sam's voice was still raised, fury vibrating from it in a way Dean had never heard from him before. "I don't want to leave you, Dean! I want to leave hunting! There's a difference!"

"No there's not!" Dean yelled back, wincing at the pain the sudden movement shot through his body.

"Yes there is!" Sam yelled back, matching Dean's volume and raising it a few decibels. "Hunting didn't let me sleep in his bed when I was scared of the dark! Hunting didn't defend me when I got picked on at school! Hunting didn't take me to the park, or remember my birthdays, or make me laugh or protect me!"

Dean stared at Sam, tears brimming in his deep eyes, but before he could say anything in response the nurse from the night before came bustling in. "Glad to see you're ok," she said with a smile at Dean. "You better not ever die on your brother here cause I think he might upend this whole hospital."

Sam smiled at her sheepishly. "I'll pay for the table," he offered, looking at the ground.

"It's ok honey, I have an older sister, I understand," the nurse said, injecting a sedative into Dean's IV. "This'll help you sleep."

"Sammy…" Dean whispered as he fought to stay awake.

"Not going anywhere," Sam said firmly, and Dean felt a reassuring pressure on his hand before he slipped into sleep.

When Dean next awoke it was to find Sammy curled up on the side of his bed, studying what looked to be copied newspaper ads. "What'cha doing, Sammy?" Dean asked groggily, rubbing his hand over his face, wincing as it came into contact with the multiple stitches holding his cheek together.

"Looking at apartments," Sam answered, pulling off the pen cap to circle another picture. "Near Stanford. I asked my friend Mark to e-mail these to me."

"Oh." Dean returned his gaze to the ceiling, blinking rapidly. "For when you go back."

Rolling his eyes, Sam turned over and dropped the pile of papers onto Dean's chest. Reluctantly, Dean picked up the papers and held them in front of his face. "Why are you looking at two person apartments?" Dean asked in confusion. "Is a friend moving in with you?"

"Yeah," Sam said with a laugh, stealing a pillow from under Dean's head and settling back into the bed. "My best friend."

"Well I'm sure you two will be very happy together." Dean was unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

"Yeah, we will, Dean." Sam swiveled his head to look at Dean, who still seemed puzzled. Lightly poking Dean in the shoulder, Sam laughed. "C'mon Dean, did the blood loss make you even stupider than usual? I'm talking about you dumbass."

"Me?" Dean twisted his head around, staring at Sam in confusion.

"Yeah, Dean, you." Sam leaned back into the pillow with a soft smile. "I mean, I know you're going to keep hunting, but this way you'd have a place to come back to. We both would. We'd have a home."

Dean was silent for a moment, then a smile spread across his bruised face as he flipped through the printouts. "As long as we rent from some hot female landlords," Dean said with a smirk.

Laughing, Sam punched Dean in the shoulder, fighting to keep his voice stern. "I'm still mad at you, Dean."

"Not as mad as you were at that table." Dean gestured to the pieces of smashed table.

"Hey, that table died because you were being a stupid jerk!" Sam protested laughingly, but the laugh died in his throat. "Dean, if I ever made you think my life would be better without you…"

"You didn't, Sammy." Dean reached a hand out and ruffled Sam's hair reassuringly. "I…when I heard you say you'd leave…that you wanted a normal life…I went into sacrificial protective big brother mode. It's what I do best."

"If you ever give up like that again, I'll kill you myself." With a gentle smile, Sam put a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"See I knew you couldn't stay mad at me Sammy." With a smirk, Dean took a sip of the water next to his bed.

"I never could stay mad at you, Dean…and it's Sam." Grabbing half the papers from Dean, Sam began looking through the listings again.

"You did for two years…" Coughing, Dean put one of the pieces of paper in front of his face.

"I wasn't mad at you for two years, idiot, I was missing you for two years." Sam snatched the paper away from Dean with a laugh. "And let me tell you, when you're out doing the hunting thing and not in the apartment, you better call me everyday. Otherwise I am so following you and busting your ass."

"But what if you have class, Sammy?" Dean grabbed another paper from the pile, and pretended to peruse it.

"I'd miss class for you, Dean." Sam grabbed the pen from the nightstand and circled another listing.

"Sam, I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." Dean put his hand over his heart and was rewarded by another smack from Sam. Dean suddenly noticed the raised scratch marks on Sam's face. "Sam, did you ever get stitched up?"

"No, I've been here with you," Sam answered, putting his hand on his face and wincing.

"Yeah, well I'm fine, so you should go do that." Taking the pile of papers away from Sam, along with the pen, Dean gently pushed Sam off the bed.

"I'll be right back," Sam called over his shoulder as he headed towards the nurse who had helped them before.

"I know you will," Dean called after him with a smile before turning back to the listings, and circling one Sam had missed.