So, we're getting closer to Season 2 and I really wish I could stop reading spoilers. I always get angry when they don't go my way. Lol. Like this Jo character. (You know who I mean if you're a spoiler reader.) I don't think I shall like her.

Anyway, I know I put this on hiatus… and technically it still is. But I'm home sick today, and I'm in a writing mood. So, here it is. And I tried to catch my errors, but I probably missed a lot. Sorry in advance.

Leave me a nice review, por favor.

Gracias.

Chapter Fourteen: Over and Out

Let me fall apart

Crippled in your arms

Chase me through the dark

Ready on your mark

First to reach the stars

Wins a broken heart

One that broke apart

Shattered from the start

Are you there?

Do you read me?

Are you there?

I don't feel you anymore

- - -

"Two brothers torn apart by Chaos, while the fortress endures, the great leader will succumb." Nostradamus

- - -

Sam got up late, it was almost eleven. Dean was still asleep. Sam watched the steady rise and fall of his brother's chest for nearly two minutes before he decided it was safe to look away and Dean wouldn't suddenly stop breathing.

He tried to fix breakfast as quietly as he could. But sure enough, the nearly silent crack of an egg was enough to rouse Dean from his sleep.

"Morning sunshine." Sam whispered with a grin. Dean groaned back and covered his eyes with his arm. "How's your head?"

"Bearable." Dean grunted. "Dude… I feel fuzzy." He explained. Sam nodded.

"That will happen when you take morphine." Sam walked over to him with a plate of bland eggs and toast. "Breakfast."
"That's going to come right back up." Dean said distastefully.

"You have to try to eat, Dean. I'm not going to let you have anymore morphine if you don't eat. You'll get even sicker."

"Dude… if you've got me on drug watch."

"Dean, you had enough drugs to fell an elephant in your bag. You're under a drug microscope right now." Sam snapped. "And if what happened last night happens again," Sam violently stabbed at the eggs and then handed the fork to his brother motioning with his head to "eat the damn eggs" and sighed. "Then we're going to the hospital, no arguments." Dean looked at the eggs distastefully before forcing them into his mouth, chewing twice and swallowing.

"Okay Sam." Dean muttered.

"And I want to go talk to Dad." And Sam began to list his demands. "I want to know about St. Louis and why you're apparently dead and buried there."

"Okay Sam." Dean softly, waging a war of wits against the eggs that didn't want to stay on his fork.

"And you're going to let me help you when you need it." Sam ordered and snatched the fork from Dean.

"I'm not an invalid."

"I know you're not. You're sick. Everyone needs help sometimes, Dean. You taught me my life again, the least I can do is help you with whatever it is you're going through."

Dean stared at his little brother. Not so little anymore. Sammy—Sam—was acting like a man. Taking complete control and leaving no room for arguments what so ever.

"Okay Sam." Dean agreed. "But please, can I feed myself?" He asked with a grin. Sam closed his eyes and smiled weakly, letting his head fall forward.

He was so damn tired. Emotionally and physically.

"Yeah." He handed his brother back the fork. Dean smiled softly and slowly began to feed himself.

Sam got off the bed and laid down on his own. "Tired?" Dean asked. Sam nodded, his eyes closed, his hands over his face. "Why don't you take a nap?" Sam opened his eyes and turned to his brother.

"Promise you'll still be here when I wake up?" He asked, sincerely. Dean nodded and winced suddenly, bringing his hands to his head. Sam sat up. "Dean?"

Dean groaned. "My head.." He bent at the waist and clutched his head between his hands.

"Dean!" Sam yelled and hurried to Dean's bed. He sat down and gripped Dean's shoulders roughly. "Dean! What's going on? Talk to me!"

Dean jerked away from Sam's touch, reeling back against the wall. He stared at Sam blankly, but breathing heavily.

"No stop!" She screamed. "Get away from me!" She was running, fast and hard, her long blonde hair trailing out behind her.

A hand reached out at grabbed it, and she stopped with a scream and her hands flew to her head to keep the hair from parting ways with her scalp.

"Please!" She begged. "Just let me go!"

"But I want you so badly." Her captor whispered and in one swift moment he brought a knife to her throat and cut open the skin, reaching the artery and the jugular in one swift movement.

She was dead before she even realized it.

Dean gasped loudly as he came back to himself and flew into a coughing fit. Sam was right there with water and a hand on his back.

"What the hell just happened?" Sam yelled angrily. Dean shook his head and took a slow sip of the water.

"I… I don't know." He whispered.

"Don't lie to me, Dean! You just had some sort of… attack or something. Don't sit there and lie to me!"

"I'm not lying, Sam!" Dean yelled. "I don't know what happened, all right?" He wiped at his nose.

Damn, like he needed a cold on top of everything.

But his hand wasn't covered in snot, like he had unpleasantly expected. Instead, there was a streak of red across the back of his hand.

Not good.

Dean looked at his brother who was staring at the blood on Dean's hand. "Come on." Sam whispered gruffly, helping Dean out of bed. "I need to go talk to Dad."

"He speaks in single syllables, Sam. What answers could he possibly give you?"

"More than you've given me." Sam said coldly as he grabbed his coat and put it on. "Grab your coat and meet me at the car."

Sam left angrily and Dean sighed heavily.

Not only was his "plan" falling apart… it seemed like maybe he was too.

And that vision? What a bitch first of all, it felt like his head was broken in two. The worst part?

Aimee was in danger.

(A/N: One of my amazing readers brought it to my attention that I made an error in mentioning the Impala. I haven't gotten around to editing last chapter, but I edited my copy to read "The old Mustang Big Louie had lent them. So that's their car.)

- - -

Sam opened the door slowly and smiled widely when he saw his father was awake. "Hey, Dad."

"Sam." John said with a smile.

The youngest Winchester walked to the side of his father's bed and rested his hand on his father's arm. "The doctors tell me you're making some major improvements in therapy." Sam said proudly.

"Talking better." John explained. Sam nodded.

"I can tell. No more stammering they tell me."

"Mostly."

"Hey Dad…" Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "This is going to sound really… weird… and maybe it's a total fluke or something… but why is there a death certificate for Dean in St. Louis?" Sam asked with large eyes.

John looked at his son for a while, frowning. "Read my journal." He explained. Sam's frown matched his father's. "You'll get answers."

- - -

"How is he?" Dean asked when Sam walked out of John's hospital room. Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Oh, so now you care?" Sam asked. Dean pushed off the wall and followed his brother as they walked down the halls.

"Of course I do. Jesus Sam, what's your problem?" Dean asked.

"You. You and your secrets… and why the hell won't you talk to Dad, huh? Are you afraid he's going to shed light on what you're hiding?" Sam was angry. Beyond angry.

"Sam… you don't know what's going on. Watch what you say, okay?" Dean tried to remain calm.

"Don't tell me to watch it, Dean." Sam snapped. "And you're right, I have no flipping clue as to what is going on. So why don't you tell me?" Sam asked, staring into his brother's hazel eyes.

"I need to find Aimee." Dean whispered and started to walk off. Sam grabbed his wrist and yanked him back around.

"Where is Dad's journal?" Sam asked. Dean pulled his wrist away.

"Don't touch me, Sam." Dean warned.

"Where. Is. It?" Sam hissed. Dean narrowed his eyes.

"What do you need it for?"

"Dad wanted me to get it for him."

"It burned up in the accident." Dean explained and then walked off.

"I'm going back to the hotel!" Sam yelled as Dean kept walking. Dean waved a hand in the air. "I'm leaving!"

"Go right ahead, Sam." Dean yelled back and then turned the corner. Sam sighed heavily and walked out to the parking lot.

He waited in the car a full twenty minutes, but Dean never came.

- - -

Dean smiled and knocked on the door softly. The blonde turned around and smiled widely when she saw him.

"Hey beautiful." He whispered.

"Let me finish feeding little Riley here his Jell-O and I'll be right over." Aimee whispered and ran her free hand over the little blonde boy's head.

He was in the recovery wing of the children's floor. Dean didn't have to look hard to see what was wrong.

He was bald, and even with that unfaltering smile, Dean could tell he was sick and getting sicker fast.

"Lucky man. A beautiful woman and my favorite, strawberry Jell-O." Dean teased. Riley smiled widely. "I bet you're sticking around just for that, huh?" He whispered. "You faker." Riley giggled and shrugged shyly.

Aimee looked at Dean and smiled.

Those Winchester men were sure made pretty.

"Don't encourage him, Dean. With a face like that, he doesn't need a ploy. He can flash those pearly whites and get any little girl he wants." Aimee said certainly. "If you were a few years older."

"Hey, watch it now. I might have to fight him for you. I don't want to get my butt kicked today." Dean interrupted.

Riley laughed louder and Dean couldn't help but smile widely.

"Well, when you're finished feeding Champ here his dessert, meet me outside, okay?" Dean asked.

Aimee nodded and Dean winked and waved goodbye to Riley.

He waited outside the door, leaning against the wall, for about two minutes before she came outside and pressed against him.

He grunted and she pulled back. "What?" She asked, alarmed. Dean grinned unconvincingly.

"Work accident." He lied breathlessly. Aimee pouted.

"Oh, baby." She ran her hand down his cheek.

Gag, much?

"Let me see." She demanded. Dean shook his head.

"Naw, its pretty gross." He said softly, feeling his stomach knot.

"I'm a nurse, Dean. Believe me, I've seen worse." She assured him. Her expression was all he needed as proof. She grabbed his arm. "Let's just go into an empty room and I'll take a look." She pulled him across the hall and locked the door behind them.

"Um… it looks occupied to me." Dean said softly, nodding towards the bagged body on the gurney. Aimee smiled.

"I don't think he'll mind." She whispered and grabbed his shirt, lifting it before he could protest. She gasped and let the shirt fall back down.

"Yeah… gross." Dean said with a meek smile.

"Dean. How… what? Oh my god." She whispered and lifted his shirt back up. "I thought you were a mechanic, not a lion tamer."

"It was more a recreational injury." Dean clarified.

"Doing what? Juggling machetes?" She sighed. "Well, at least you went to a hospital. Though, the stitching job is slightly shoddy…"

"Sam did it." Dean blurted. Aimee raised an eyebrow.

"Sam? Your brother?"

"Yeah. He just pushed me on the bed and went to town." Dean teased, but Aimee was clearly not in the mood for jokes.

"Why does he know how to do something like that?"

"I juggle machetes a lot."

"This isn't funny, Dean. You could have gotten killed."

"But I didn't."

"Well thank God." She snapped and then covered her face. Dean sighed and wrapped an arm around her. "I'm not the only one you would have left behind, Dean. Did you even think about Sam? About your father?"

"Everything I do, is for them." Dean answered. "It was just… I got careless."

"I'm not even going to ask." She whispered and pulled away. "Well, besides the obvious, why did you come to see me?"

"This is going to sound weird…"

"I'm pretty much open to everything at the moment." She muttered, staring at his chest.

"But I think you're in danger."

- - -

Sam slammed the door behind him, ignoring the cheap picture frame that fell off the wall and shattered.

He threw his bag on the nearest bed and then threw himself down after it.

He was so pissed.

No, pissed didn't even cover it.

What was Dean hiding?

Why didn't he want Sam reading that journal?

What was so bad that he couldn't see it?

Yeah… well screw him.

That's right.

He said it.

Screw Dean.

He was going to find the journal, and read it too.

Sam got up off the bed and froze.

Where to look?

He had no clue.

None.

Okay, so his gusto wasn't very realistic, but at least he had the drive… right?

Sam sighed and sat back down.

He chewed on his lower lip while he thought of the possible hiding places. It'd be somewhere close. Somewhere easily assessable.

And Dean tended to be absent minded, if things got moved from their normal places, he'd go crazy or forget about them all together.

Sam smiled and looked over at Dean's bed. He got up and lifted his brother's pillow.

Success.

Right next to his brother's prized knife was the journal.

"Well that was easy." Sam whispered to himself and sat down on the bed. He opened the first page.

I went to Missouri and I learned the truth.

The truth came at Sam like a speeding locomotive and knocked him on his ass.

- - -

That hadn't exactly gone according to plan.

Dean reached up and rubbed at his sore cheek. Once Aimee had stopped freaking out, she'd slapped him, pretty damn hard too.

Gees, all he was doing was trying to save her life.

And now he was walking back to the hotel room, all alone, in the dark, in the cold, with a stinging cheek.

Damn…

"What are you… some kind of witch or something?" Aimee had nearly screamed, backing against the wall. Yeah, he'd made the mistake of telling another girl the truth.

And you wonder why he lies to women?

"What? No… I just… I have these dreams… and they… sometimes they come true." Dean explained, remembering the way Sam had explained them.

"You're crazy."

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting… but this wasn't it.

"Aimee, you gotta listen to me. I think someone is going to try to hurt you."

"Get away from me." She yelled and tried to walk past him, but Dean grabbed her arm. She whirled around and slapped him hard. "Don't touch me!" She screamed and then ran out of the room.

Dean sighed and flipped up his collar to block the chill of the night air.

"Just call Sam." He whispered to himself. "He'll come get you." But Dean was just too dang stubborn and proud for that.

He fingered the phone in his pocket, but didn't take it out.

Only a few more miles to the motel.

Scratch that.

He must have been walking fast… really fast.

Because he swore he could see the lights of the motel all ready.

Strange.

A sharp pain ran up the back of his head and he stumbled.

Crap…

Those weren't lights. Well… not technically.

He was having another vision.

A bad one.

Dean grabbed his phone and flipped it open, he had to hurry. A flash of pictures and noise hit him so hard he dropped the phone. He groaned and closed his eyes tightly, trying to ward it away.

He knelt down and grabbed the phone, which had all ready been calling Sammy.

"Dean!" Sam was yelling. "Dean!" The older Winchester wondered just how long Sam had been sitting there listening to nothing, yelling his name.

"Sam… I need you to come get me." Dean whispered brokenly, trying to keep control of the pain.

"What's wrong? Where are you? You hurt?" Sam was talking a mile a minute and Dean knew he was running out to the car all ready.

"I… I don't know…" Dean admitted and winced.

"What's going on?" Sam asked worriedly and Dean heard the car start in the back ground.

Dean didn't answer, he just breathed into the phone. Sam sighed.

"Listen to me, Dean." He said softly. "You have to look around, give me some landmarks so I can find you, okay?"

Dean looked around, squinting at the non existent light that seemed to be frying his corneas.

"Um… there's a billboard… for… Christ, Sam. My head." Dean closed his eyes as the world spun.

"Okay, a billboard. Dean, what's on it?" Sam asked, his heart pounding in his chest. "Dean?"

"Um… it's blue… and… three of the lights are out."

It was a wonder Sam didn't get in an accident. He drove the whole time looking for billboards, not paying a moments notice to the road.

"Okay, Dean. Keep talking to me, okay? Stay on the phone."

"I'm sorry, Sammy." Dean whispered and Sam felt his stomach flip.

"For what, Dean?"

"For lying to you, this whole time… I shoulda… I shoulda told you everything."

Dean was cold.

No.

He was freaking freezing.

A Dean Winchester Popsicle.

He was shivering and he was pretty sure the world had gone horizontal without his permission and the wet ground was starting to seep into his clothes.

Somehow he had managed to keep hold on the phone.

To Sam.

"It's all right, Dean. You can tell me everything later." Sam assured him. "Dean! I see the billboard."

"Good Sam." Dean whispered tiredly.

"Can you wave me down?" Sam asked eagerly. He needed to find his brother, and needed to find him now.

"I'm down." Dean said vaguely.

"I'm getting out of the car." Sam took a deep breath. "Dean, hang up the phone and I'm going to call it and follow the sound of the ringer."

"'Kay." Dean shut the phone and gave into the vision.

- - -

Sam's hands were shaking so badly he almost missed the SEND button. He listening intently, praying Dean hadn't put his phone on silent or vibrate.

Apparently, God was listening because he could hear the ringer clear as day. He ran towards the noise and saw Dean, shaking on the ground and nearly stumbled.

He froze and stared for a minute, recognizing his brother's fit for what it was. A vision, though it was far worse than any they'd ever experienced or seen.

"Dean!" Sam yelled and ran to his brother's side, hesitant to touch him. "Dean…" Sam whispered this time and dropped to his knees.

Dean's eyes were closed tightly and he was thrashing about, fighting something only he could see. Every so often he'd release a small cry, and each time Sam broke a little more.

They were so anguished. But not with physical pain. Dean sounded like he was weeping… like his heart was shattering.

"Sammy." He sobbed brokenly.

Sam grasped Dean's hand strongly.

His brother neither acknowledged the touch nor pulled away.

"Dean, I'm here. I'm right here." Sam assured his brother softly.

"No… leave him alone." Dean begged.

Sam touched Dean's face and his brother flinched away at first.

"Dean. I'm here. It's Sammy."

He moved into Sam's hand and Sam smiled softly. "You're okay. I'm okay. It's okay." Dean whimpered and his back arched slightly.

"Stop… please…"

"It'll pass, Dean." Sam whispered, pulling Dean into his lap and apologizing under his breath as Dean gasped. "I know. I know." Sam whispered, stroking Dean's hair.

This was all so wrong.

He remembered everything now. He remembered the way Dean was… and this wasn't it. This wasn't the way Dean was supposed to be.

And these were his visions. How the hell had Dean gotten them?

He took a deep breath. "I know it hurts… but it'll pass."

- - -

"It was your job, wasn't it? To protect him?" The demon-in-their-father's-form asked as he ripped Dean to shreds.

"You had one job. One! And you couldn't even do that, could you?"

"Where is my brother?" Dean gasped.

The demon smirked and shook his head.

"You don't wanna know."

"Where… is my brother?" Dean asked again.

"In hell."

"For your sake, I hope you're kidding."

"For your sake, you'd better hope I'm not. At least you'll have some company."

"We're going to kill you."

"Oh, silly, silly boy. Did you ever think you'd win? You can't be serious." The demon laughed. "Since the beginning I knew it'd come down to this. Do you really think I would have come after your family if I thought you could defeat me? I'd have killed Sam that night if that were true. You've been doomed since the beginning." He ran his hand down Dean's cheek. "Since the moment Samuel was conceived… things were destined to end this way. Your mother was going to die on the ceiling… your father would die a pathetic shell of a man, trying desperately to win a losing battle to save his sons. Sam… well, he's destined to be mine while you… well, Dean. You're just a bundle of surprises. In the beginning, you were meant to die with your mother. But you managed to escape that. We thought we had gotten rid of you so many times before that… with the electrocution, with the Daevas. But you've got a strength we can't touch."

The demon grinned.

"But you'd give anything to save your brother. You've said more than once that you'd die for him…" The demon stepped back. "And tonight, it's pay up time."

Sam stepped out of the shadows, grinning with eyes as black as night.

"Sammy." Dean gasped. "No… fight this. Don't let him take you."

Sam cocked his head to the side. "You're too late, Dean. I'm done running. I'm done fighting something that feels so right."

"You can't mean that. He killed Mom. He killed Jessica!"

Sam shrugged. "They were just in the way anyways."

"This isn't you… Sam…"

"Who are you to tell me what is and isn't me?" Sam roared, and before Dean could blink, Sam's hand was around his throat, lifting him off the ground. "You and Dad… you two told me who I was supposed to be. I never got to live my own life. This is what I want, and for once, I'm going for it."

Dean choked and fought wildly, and Sam laughed as his brother's struggles slowed and his eyes glazed over.

"Fine, Sam. If this is what you want. To kill your own brother. Just know, I still love you, little brother. And I'm not going to die until I fix this."

Sam's eyes flickered and Dean fell to the ground.

"No!" The demon roared and with a flick of his wrist threw Sam and Dean to opposite ends of the room. "Sam! Finish him!"

"I… I can't…" Sam admitted.

The demon sighed and turned his golden eyes to Dean. "You've just killed him." He whispered and then closed his fist.

Dean and Sam both cried out in pain, and before the world went black, Dean saw Sam fall.

- - -

Sam leg was bouncing nervously. They'd taken Dean away from him nearly an hour ago and he hadn't heard anything yet.

And as cute as she was… that seven year old who was making goo-goo eyes at him was seriously starting to get on his nerves.

"Are you sick?" She asked him innocently. Sam shook his head, not taking his eyes off the two double doors at the end of the hall.

"My brother is." Sam explained. The girl nodded.

"Mine too." She whispered and climbed into the seat next to Sam. "He's got lookema." She explained. "He died today." She was still smiling and Sam looked over at her.

"I'm sorry…"

"But we woke him up. And took him here." She explained and Sam couldn't help but chuckle slightly. She laughed too, delighted with herself.

"You mean he passed out?"

She nodded. "He died."

"Oh, okay. But he's okay."

"No. He's really sick. And bald. He can't play with me anymore."

"I'm really sorry." Sam said honestly.

"People keep saying that. But it doesn't make anything better. It doesn't make Riley get out of bed. It doesn't make him get better."

Sam nodded and reached over to pat the little girl's head absently.

"I'm Kendal." She said and grabbed his hand, shaking it with both of hers.

"Sam." He said with a genuine smile.

"Does your brother have lookema too?"

"No… I don't know what's wrong." Sam admitted. "His head hurts."

"Mommy's head hurts. She's always taking medicine. It must hurt bad, she's always crying, and Daddy is always crying and telling her it will get better. I don't think it does." She sighed and looked down at her leather shoes. "I think Riley's lookema hurts her."

The doctor walked into the room, a young woman with brown hair pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck. "Kendal, are you bugging this nice man?" She asked softly and then looked at Sam. "Kendal is one of our more frequent visitors. She always manages to escape from the daycare." She set the clipboard down and put her hands on her hips, trying to look angry, but Sam doubted her face could contort that way. She just looked too kind.

"Honey, didn't you promise your parents you'd stay put this time?" She asked. Kendal pouted and looked at Sam.

"He was watching me." She whined.

The doctor looked at Sam and smiled when he blushed. "I'm so sorry. I hope she wasn't bugging you."

Sam shook his head. "Naw, it was fine. She kept me company."

"Are you Sam O'Leary?" She asked, looking over at the clipboard. Sam nodded. "Would you like to come see your brother?"

Sam nodded and stood up.

"What about her?" He asked softly. The doctor smiled and looked over at Kendal.

"Come on sweetheart, I'm going to take Sam to his brother and then we'll bring you back to your friends at the fun room." She explained, holding out her hand. Kendal nodded and ran over, grasping her hand.

"I'm guessing you know her pretty well." Sam said softly. The doctor nodded and looked down at Kendal as the little girl skipped down the hall between them.

"Her family is around a lot. Her brother, Riley, almost lives here now." She lowered her voice. "He's stopped responding to treatment."

Sam flinched when Kendal's hand slipped into his. He looked down and she was smiling up at him.

"Swing me." She said happily, jumping up and down.

Sam looked at the doctor and she shrugged, still smiling. "If Sam is okay with it." She said.

The younger Winchester nodded hesitantly. "One. Two. Three." They swung their arms forward and Kendal nearly screamed in delight.

The doctor hushed her, though she was laughing. Sam too had to laugh, Kendal was just so joyous.

"Okay, that's enough. People are sleeping."

"Sorry, Jenny." Kendal whispered.

"Jenny, huh?" Sam asked. "It suits you."

"It's actually Jen, to most people. But if I get to call you Sammy, you have my permission to call me Jenny without me kicking you." Sam laughed. "What?"

"Oh, it's just I act the same way about my nickname."

"Funny how that is." Jen stopped and looked at Sam. "Well, here we are." They stopped outside a door and she took Dean's file out of the pocket.

"What's wrong with him?"

Jen sighed and looked at him, her smile long gone. "Sam…" she looked over at Kendal. "Sweetheart, go sit over there and wait for me, okay?" Kendal nodded, seemingly in tune to the sad situation. Jen looked back at Sam. "Well… I'm not really his doctor, but they filled me in… I… I've never seen this before, but I guess our hospital has dealt with one case before…" she was rambling and Sam couldn't help but notice how cute she was.

Hey… he does have a downstairs brain. Leave him alone.

"I'll try to explain it… basically, Dean's got a tear in his brainstem." She said quickly and watched Sam pale. She grabbed his arm. "It isn't as bad as it sounds. I can promise you he barely feels any pain and the worst side affect is bad circulation to his hands and feet. This tear, it's bleeding… not terribly, but its bleeding and that's not a good thing. There isn't mean to be blood in the places its going." She squeezed his arm softly. "So, there is this pouch of blood up there and its going to start pressing on his brain soon…"

"Can't they empty it… or remove it or something?" Sam asked. Jen tilted her head to the side.

"Sam… the surgery would kill him or leave him brain damaged." She shrugged. "If that's what you two decided to do, we can go ahead with the surgery. But it's not an option we're recommending."

"So… without this surgery… what are his chances?" Sam asked.

She didn't answer at first and Sam prepared himself for worse news. "He's got about two months."

"What? No. I mean… there has to be a chance…"

"There is about a four percent chance that someone can survive something like this unscathed."

"So… you're saying he's going to die?" Sam asked, his eyes stinging. Jen nodded.

"I'm so sorry, Sam."

Sam nodded and then disappeared into his brother's room.

Dean was dying…

Again.

And Sam was going to stop at nothing to fix it.

Again.