Okay, i know that the Devil's trap was ages ago (well, a week ago for me) but i wanted to do this now, 'cause i was getting annoyed at my own imagination about what happens. Sam has a secret to tell his father and brother...what could it be?

Disclaimer: Sadly i dont own Superantural...but i hope one day to kidnap Jared Padalecki for my own fantasies.!


Dean woke sluggishly, feeling wires pull at his arms and legs. His head felt like it had been whacked with a sledge hammer. Now that was not very nice. Looking around, he saw that he was in a hospital room, with two other beds there. One was occupied by his father, who looked well and was sitting up.

Dean wondered how his father had survived, he was the one on the passenger side, he should have been dead, though he was glad he wasn't. John didn't look like he had any wires stuck to him, or any needles passing fluids into his system, so he must be ready to be discharged, or he was being kept for observation.

The second bed was empty, and he looked around trying to find Sam. He grunted as he pulled on one of the wires, and his father caught the sound. Making his way over he placed a hand on Dean's forehead.

"It's alright Dean, you're alright now, calm down" he soothed, brushing his hand through his son's hair. He saw him calm a bit, but Dean was still looking around.

"Wh…..where's Sammy?" he whispered, his voice dry and pained. Just then the doctor came in, and saw that Dean was awake.

"hey, you've had a lucky escape you have, so has your father." he saw the questioning look on Dean's face "you've got come bruising, and a few of your ribs are broken, though they seem to be healing well. Your legs are bruised and a lot of skin has been torn, and when you cam in you had lost a lot of blood." he finished, as he took Dean's vitals.

"what about my brother?" he asked, talking sure was painful. The doctor seemed to stall, and looked to his father. Something was wrong, terribly wrong with Sam. "what? What's wrong with him?" he demanded, his voice finding it's roughness, and strength.

"Dean….Let me tell you, you've had a lucky escape, but I'm afraid that Sam hasn't been so lucky as the both of you. We're not so sure of his chances, his vitals keep on changing from one day to the next." He paused as he saw Dean taking it all in

"He's got a bad concussion, probably he hit the steering wheel when you guys got hit. His side was beaten up as well, and some of his own ribs have been broken. He's lost so much blood in the past few days that we hold little hope of him waking up. He's in a semi-coma, he keeps waking then falls back into unconsciousness, and his brain patterns are irregular."

Dean was shell-shocked. Sam couldn't die, he was the youngest, he was his brother. "no" he breathed as shook his head. This couldn't be happening.

In the next few minutes, Dean learnt that Sam got the worst of the crash, probably due to the fact he was driving, and he cursed that Sam wasn't concentrating on the road, then thought about it. If something wanted to harm them, there would be no way to stop it. Sam was in intensive care for the moment, and they all had been in hospital for three weeks. Sam had woken up five times in that time, and each and every time he had breathed his brother's name before slipping back.

Dean felt better each and every day, and he was getting his strength back. So much so that he felt good enough to flirt with one of his nurses, something that the Winchester father had been silently hoping for, as it showed that Dean was back to normal.

He himself had gotten off lightly from the crash. The slug from the colt had been removed and the wound was healing perfectly. His torn ligaments from his legs were slowly healing, and the massive bruising on his chest had already vanished, His right side hurt though, and he was sure he wouldn't have been here, seeing as he was the one right next to the impact.

He felt guilt when it came to thinking about Sam, the youngest had only been doing what was necessary to keep his family alive, and if that meant letting the thing go, it was what he wanted to do. He looked out over the car park, watching the night sky draw in slowly, feeling so guilty for telling his youngest that he was disappointed in him that he had not shot him. He shouldn't have said that, and now Sam was in a semi-coma and didn't know how his father really felt. Getting up, he told Dean he was going to see how Sam was, and walked out of the room, down the daunting hall to where his son lay.

His eyes started to water and tears were threatening to fall as he stood by his son's bed, the wires attached to nearly every single part of his torso and arms, the monitors around him bleeping inconsistently, though he took no notice of these. It tore him apart that his youngest would always call for Dean instead of himself, every father would. It just sealed it that he had never been there for Sam.

A small moan reached his sensitive hearing, and he saw the monitors change, showing a change in Sam's brain pattern. Sam's eyes started to flicker open, having trouble to keep them open, or lift them further. His hand clenched and he took in a pained breath.

"Sammy? Sam?" the elder Winchester placed a hand on his son's shoulder, though he didn't think it would have the effect it had on Dean, he and Sam were too alike for their own good. The monitor that had Sam's brain patterns on it had changed once more, so it meant that he was unconscious again.


Five days after waking up fully, Dean was still worrying for his little brother. They had always been together, been there to help, or shoot the other in the chest, didn't matter what it was, they had always stuck together. He was allowed to walk and get out to Sam's room now, and he took all chances to do so. His father had accompanied him every time, and had helped him walk back to their own room.

Currently, they were both sitting beside Sam's bed. He hadn't woken up since his father came down here on his own. Sam's vitals were getting better, his breathing wasn't as shallow, his heartbeat strengthened after every single day.

They had been there for an hour, and nothing had happened. They had talked about the past, what had happened since John had gone, Sam's deterioration and psychic ability, so john knew about the nightmares and the visions, even the fact that Dean was now technically dead, so it was good that they had fake ID's to help them through this.

It wasn't the monitor that alerted them to Sam's wakening, it was Sam himself. The monitor never changed as the young Winchester's eyes flickered open, and a startled gasp escaped his lips. His eyes were wide, and the pain that shot through his head was enough to kill him. Sam clenched his fists and his back arched as more pain filled his world, his eyes closed.

Dean and John both shot up and were instantly by his side, Dean's hand brushing through Sam's hair, something that seemed to bring him comfort, and soon, his hands unclenched slowly, his back resting on the cotton sheet underneath him. After about a minute, his eyes flickered open once more, his pupils reacting to the light around him.

Sam saw colours in front of him, but he couldn't make out shapes yet, that came a few minutes later. His hearing was dulled and he couldn't make out the voices that were trying to get to him. He closed his eyes once more and let out a sigh.

Sam Winchester was not about to die, he was going to live.

His whole body ached, and he looked down once his eyesight had returned and saw the wires and needles sticking into his skin, and he let out a groan. A laughing by his side alerted him once more that someone was near and he looked up, seeing Dean. His head rested once more on the bed, and he smiled. He looked to his other side and saw someone he never thought would be concerned…his father was stood on the other side of his bed.

"Dad?" he whispered, his throat painfully dry. He turned his head away as more pain filled his head, he bit down on his lip and hissed. John stroked Sam's head, brushing through his hair and soon he saw that Sam's pain diminished.

"Well Sammy boy, you've been lucky!" Dean said sarcastically. He smiled as Sam responded with the only word that seemed to fit this situation

"Jerk" he whispered back to his brother. Dean was so glad that his brother was alright, and it seemed that he didn't have any brain damage, which was good.

"Bitch" he softly replied. Kneeling down, he rested his arms on the side of his brother's bed, his chin resting on his arms. He took this time to seriously look at Sam's injuries, the ones that he could see.

Sam had many a few stitches on his right side, something that looked like his father should have had. There was a huge gash stretching from the corner of Sam's right eye right around to the back of his skull, though it had been stitched up and covered in gauze and bandages. His right arm looked battered and he knew that his ribs had been broken. His skin was so pale, he looked a little like Doctor Ellicot.

The room was in silence and Sam had closed his eyes again, though his breathing told them he wasn't asleep. "Dad?" Sam's voice rang out abruptly, it was stronger than last time and it had his tone to it. He was getting better. John placed his hand on his son's shoulder, and Sam turned to face him. His eyes were teary and they looked so bloodshot.

"Dad….I'm sorry. Im sorry for letting the demon go. I just didn't want to loose you again." Sam's voice was rough and raspy, his throat was not as lubricated as he wished it to be.

"Now, son don't…" john started but was cut off by Sam.

"Dad….you shouldn't be here. You should be dead." that last sentence stopped both of the two eldest Winchesters. They didn't understand.

"Son?" he asked, confused. "What do you mean?"

Sam coughed once and more pain seeped into his mind. He had to say this now, before he slipped back into the darkness once more.

"just….just listen…." Sam felt his eyes getting heavy, and he shook his head to rid himself of tiredness "NO!" he growled stubbornly at himself "I cant go back until I tell them….leave me to tell the truth!" his voice was becoming more pained and much more like a growl. His back arched much like before, as more pain enveloped him.

He turned to Dean, he should be able to figure this out, or if he didn't, he didn't know him as well as he thought he did.

"Dean……sacrifice……a trade…..look in my folders, you should……you should be able to find it" he said, gasping for air, before he slipped slowly back into unconsciousness.

"NO!" Dean growled, picking Sam up by his shoulders "NO, you can't drift back!" John pulled Dean back from his brother, and set him on one of the chairs. He looked over to his son. He did something to protect him, he had to have done, otherwise, he wouldn't be here.


Author's note: tell me how it is, and flamers be warned...im aorry to say it...im like the devil...i have a really BAD temper, and i dont mean to be rude to anyone, but it comes out of pure frustration.

anyway...to the people who review, as i do in all my stories now...heres a cookie...

Demmie