A/N: This idea was started by watching an episode of All Saints and imagining the boys in the middle of it. Yes, I do that often. Shows how much these boys have crawled into my brain, huh? Anyway, this fic would not have actually been written, had it not been for LovinJackson. I owe her a huge heaping thanks for that. And I owe a huge heaping thanks to lovinandrew aka Deb for her suggestions and logic. Every so often, my muse needs that even on a simple hurt/comfort story. LOL

Okay, sorry about the rambling...on with the show!!


"You know, you don't have an 'S' on your chest, dude." Dean muttered softly, running his fingers through his brother's hair, not giving a damn if anyone could see him for once. There was bruising over Sam's left eyebrow, several shallow grazes criss-crossed over his cheek, but nothing that was going to take anything away from the kid's looks. Which was just as well, cause Sam had a hard enough time picking up women already. Dean wanted to go to Hell at least knowing his brother wasn't going to end up a born again virgin.

"Says who?" Sam's voice was tired and still laced with pain. All he wanted was some sleep right now, but the slightest movement sent liquid pain flashing through his leg and had Sam almost ready to beg for more pain relief.

"Dude…it's Sasquatch, not freaking Super Sammy." Dean shot back, trying to keep his voice light as he retracted his hand from Sam, resting it next to his brother's arm on the bed. It had been too damn close and Dean couldn't bring himself to have too much distance between himself and Sam right now.

"She's okay? Dean…the little girl's okay?" Sam tried to lift his head, gasping in pain before he fell back, Dean's hand lightly touching his chest to block him.

"Whoa, whoa! What are you doing? Lie still, Sam! She's fine! She's fine…there wasn't a scratch on her, dude." Dean reassured him. Once he was sure Sam wasn't going to try moving again, he removed his hand and sat down again.

"What the hell were you thinking, Sam? You could have been killed."

"She would have…been killed, Dean. That car…didn't see her…at all." Sam ground out as the drugs in his system started to wash away the waves of pain again. His right leg felt cold, his jeans cut open to the knee to allow the hospital to put a temporary split on until someone could come down and X-ray it. His head hurt…hell, even his ribs hurt right now. Nothing broken there, but you didn't sail over the roof of a car without ending up with some wicked bruising that would steal your breath if you moved too quickly.

Dean watched as Sam closed his eyes against the pain and tried to settle back on the bed to rest. The image of his brother being slammed into by a car that was going way too fast, would never leave Dean's memory.

"Dean, seriously…you have no shame, dude. None whatsoever." Sam shook his head as he laughed, falling into step beside his brother. The playground was still full of screaming, laughing kids around them as they walked, heading for the Starbucks they could see in the distance. A serious date with a double vanilla latte was all Sam wanted right now.

"What? Parks aren't a place for a friendly chat now with a woman?" Dean did his best to sound indignant.

"Friendly chat huh? You get her phone number?"

Dean held up the slip of paper with a winning grin. "Home and cell. Seems little Patrick is off to stay with his dad tomorrow and she's got the house to herself. I'm as good as in, dude."

"What am I supposed to do, Dean?"

"Hey maybe she has a friend?" Dean nudged his brother in the ribs. "I can ask her?"

"What? No! I don't need you playing cupid, Dean!" Sam put an end to that idea before his brother even got to step two of his plan. "You're the one sowing your wild oats…or whatever. I'll be fine."

"Hey…I'm just--…" The rest of what Dean was saying was lost to Sam as he caught a bright blue blur in his peripheral vision. Turning towards it, his heart lurched in his chest as Sam saw a little girl in a sky blue t-shirt and pink shorts, no more than four years old, running after a balloon that was bouncing towards the road on a breeze. The girl's mother was distracted by strapping another young child into his car seat, oblivious to the fact her little girl was running straight for disaster.

Sam took off instantly, his long legs pumping as he sprinted for the girl, eating up the distance between them rapidly. A car was rushing long the street towards them, going way too fast. Faster than it ever should have been near such a busy park and Sam knew that it would never see the little girl in time.

"Sam!" Dean was right behind his brother, his shorter legs not quite as able to catch up with Sam, who had a head start on him. But Dean could see where this was headed and he tried to put on that extra bit of speed needed right now.

Sam hit the street at full speed, sweeping the girl up under his arm and twisting in mid stride. "DEAN!" He threw the little girl back towards the curb, watching Dean catch her high in the chest and fall back.

Then there was nothing but the screech of brakes and Sam was thrown through the air, rolling over the hood and roof of the car before he hit the pavement at last. Tasting blood in his mouth and knowing instantly from the savage pain in his leg, that it had broken with the impact with the car. Dean's panicked scream of his name was the last thing Sam knew before the darkness claimed him.

"You okay?"

Dean looked up, unaware that he had let his mind wander until he heard Sam's voice. A shiver rushed along his spine and he nodded, giving his brother a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Dude. I just hate these places, you know that."

"It's no fun from where I'm lying either, Dean." Sam said quietly, his eyes glassy with pain that had Dean sitting forward a little more.

"You need me to get someone? I'll go and ask how long it takes to get a freaking X-ray around here, maybe see if they'll give you something else for the pain?" Dean knew he was hovering worriedly now, but it was that or he would start punching things. His little brother shouldn't be lying here right now. The cops didn't even know where the hell that car was. The son of a bitch had just put his foot down and blew out of there like it was nothing, like he hadn't just almost killed Sam. Dean hoped he had left town, because if he saw the car, he was tempted to tear the guy in half just on principle. "Just stay still and I'll get someone, okay?"

"Dean…" Sam started, knowing he'd already lost any argument before it even began. Dean needed to be doing something, fixing this. It was always that simple with Dean and it had gotten even more so with his year running out. His brother refused to die without having crossed off every stupid thing on his to do list…and it just kept growing each time Sam got hurt.

All Sam cared about, was stopping Dean from dying.


"Thanks, Rhonda." Dean gave the nurse behind the counter a wink, turning the charm up to 50 for the older woman. She had offered to bring them in a coffee each and maybe even something from the kitchens while they were stuck waiting for the radiology guy to get his ass into gear. There was also another shot of some sweet pain relief on the cards for Sam, which had Dean smiling as he made a mental note of everything he'd achieved in the last ten minutes. Oh yeah…he was an awesome big brother.

Turning back towards Sam, Dean was halfway across the room when he noticed the guy entering from the side. He was dressed in hospital scrubs and had a towel draped over his arm as he paused in the doorway and looked around him at the dozen or so patients and staff in the small town hospital's emergency room.

It was something in his eyes that made Dean pause for the slightest moment and look a little closer at the guy.

"Olivia!" The shout had several of the patients screaming in fright as the guy suddenly shook off the towel over his hand to show the .45 automatic he had been hiding. He lifted the gun and aimed at Rhonda, his arm shaking as he screamed at her. "Where's Olivia??"

"Please!! Please, don't shoot! She's not here, Greg!" Rhonda pleaded, her hands shaking as she threw them up to shield herself.

Greg didn't appear to be happy with that answer, pulling the trigger and watching with cold dispassion as the bullet slammed through Rhonda's collarbone and dumped her backwards out of the chair.

Dean took a half step towards Rhonda on sheer instinct, wanting to help the woman before his brain caught up with him and Dean realised that Greg was turning and heading straight for him.

A bullet whipped past Dean's head close enough for him to feel the air shift around it. A scream was suddenly cut short, Dean half turning to see that the round that had missed him had taken out a patient in a bed behind him. The woman slumped slowly to the side, blood pumping from her chest.

"Olivia! Get your ass out here now!" Greg yelled, firing off another round and striking an orderly in the back as he ran. The man went down without a sound and didn't move.

Dean had no idea what the hell was happening here and why this asshole was screaming for some chick, but the moment that first shot was fired, his only thought was for Sam. Greg was walking straight towards the side of the room that Sam was resting in, firing at anything that moved and happily executing anyone who didn't. If Dean didn't do something, Sam was going to be a sitting duck with his broken leg hindering his chance of escape.

More shots rang out; Dean watching as a doctor was hit in the chest and went down instantly. A screaming patient took a shot in the neck and tumbled from their bed, clutching at themselves as blood spurted through their fingers. It was complete chaos and in that moment, Dean made his choice and started moving. It was like he was rushing through a tunnel as he turned and started to run, keeping low. At the end was Sam, helpless on his bed with a broken leg as this freaking maniac was walking through the ER, shooting at random around him.

"Dean! DEAN!" Sam was yelling now, grinding his teeth against the pain each time he moved, every cell in his body telling him to get on the floor somehow and take cover. He could see Dean running towards Greg as the gunman kept approaching and flinched out of sheer instinct as a bullet whistled past his head and shattered the light above him. The move rocketed pain through his body as Sam tried to curl into himself for protection, then forced himself to roll off his bed. His hip hit the floor and instantly, white hot lightning shot through Sam's leg as he screamed in pain. Nausea rolled through him, bile rushing up his throat as Sam fought to breathe through his nose and not pass out.

Damn, there was no where to hide, nothing but the bed to duck behind. He was a good as dead if he stayed here, but Sam couldn't even try to think of moving with his broken leg. He wouldn't get three feet before he was gunned down.

"Where's Olivia?" Greg was standing over Sam suddenly, gun aimed low enough that if he pulled the trigger, it was likely to take Sam in the chest and kill him instantly.


Greg swung around, finger on the trigger as he saw Dean only a few feet from him.

Dean had raised his hands as he edged forward, inch by inch, trying to close the distance so he could jump this asshole and disarm him. Greg was a hair trigger with a deadness in those eyes that made Dean think of a shark. Whoever Olivia was? Dean hoped this asshole never found her. "Easy…just take it easy, pal."

"I'm not your pal! Now where is she? Where's Olivia?" Greg hand was completely steady as he kept his gun pointed at Dean. "Stop! Just stop right there or I'll put a bullet in you."

"I don't know where she is. But I'll help you find her, okay? Just stop shooting and I'll help you find Olivia right now." Dean moved another half inch, tensing up ready to strike. He was willing to risk a bullet if it stopped this guy from shooting Sam lying prone on the floor. Too many people were wounded or dead already. Dean wasn't adding Sam to that list.

"You're lying to me. You don't want to find her…you don't give a shit about why I need to see her." Greg raged, waving the gun around wildly.

"You're right." Dean answered with a small shrug, his eyes narrowing slightly, every muscle coiling in anticipation of what could happen here. " I don't. I don't give a damn about you, or Olivia or whatever fucked up reason you have for doing this. But I do care about you shooting anyone else. So how about you cut me some fucking slack here and let me help you, okay? No one else needs to get shot."

Sam's heart was in his mouth right now, watching as Dean dealt with the guy and pulled his typical macho bullshit, diverting attention away from Sam. He was shaking from the throbbing hot pain in his leg, but his attention was locked solely on his brother. This had to go right. It just had to. But it was almost like Sam could see what was coming the same time Dean did. He saw Dean's gaze meet his for a split second and felt his heart skip a beat. "No…"

When the shot ran out, Sam jumped out of reflex, his eyes widening in horror. "DEAN!"

Dean had one hand clutched to his stomach, blood pumping through his fingers as he stumbled back several steps. His knees buckled under him, dumping Dean on his ass in a ungainly sprawl as his brain tried to catch up with what had just happened. He looked over towards Sam, his green eyes wide and glassy with pain as he began to tremble, blood dribbling through his fingers no matter how much he tried to stop it. "Sammy?"

"Dean, hold on." Some part of Sam, some small voice of logic in the back of his mind told him that he was supposed to stay still, stay down. It was a voice that Sam immediately ignored, taking a shaky breath and fighting the nausea that had his stomach flip flopping as he grabbed a folded up blanket from the end of his bed. As Sam bit down on his bottom lip and dragged himself forward with a sound caught somewhere between a growl and a whimper, feeling like his leg was filled with broken shards of glass that were all shifting and slicing against each other.

The cold, sharp sound of a gun's hammer being cocked made Sam pause. He looked over his shoulder, sweat dampening his hair as he locked eyes with the gun man.

Greg calmly held his aim on Sam, his finger almost caressing the trigger. The bullet would tear through Sam's skull and take the back of his head off.

"Sam! Sam, no. No!" Dean was almost stammering wildly, shaking with pain as he curled up on the floor, feeling blood slipping through his fingers. He couldn't lose Sam again. Not like this. Dean was already staring the barrel of Hell, but that was nothing compared to the thought of this asshole shooting his little brother dead. Why the hell couldn't Sam just play this smart and stay down?

Sam's gaze didn't move, even as he heard Dean frantic, pained cries. He continued staring at Greg, forcing himself to be calm. Keeping a level head when all Sam wanted to do was take that gun and make Greg eat it before he pulled the trigger. One year. That was all Dean had been given. It was hard enough keeping his brother alive as it was, without Dean dying because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sam wasn't losing his brother today.

"Don't. Please." Sam's voice was quiet and pleading. The same soft voice he used to talk to distraught people they helped while hunting. All he could see was the barrel of the gun pointed at him and wondered if that was the last thing he was ever going to see? "Please…don't shoot. He's my brother. I need to get to him. Please."

The pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears. Sam could see Greg's finger still hovering on the trigger, almost squeezing before it would back off again. It was like time had slowed again. No one dared to move inside the room. Whimpers of pain were mixed with groans and moans. The soft drip of blood from the finger tips of a patient sprawled across a bed dead. The whole place was a war zone thanks to this one man who currently had Sam in his sights.

"Where's Olivia?" The question was asked in a calm, almost disconnected voice from Greg. His sanity had long unravelled before he had set foot in the hospital. Outside, Sam could hear sirens and knew the police had arrived. It gave him hope that Dean would be rescued soon.

"I don't know. No one here knows. She's not here, okay? She's not here." Sam was becoming a little more forceful as he spoke, feeling his anger rising as he heard Dean's laboured, pained breathing nearby. "Please…just let me get to my brother."

Greg watched Sam for a moment, stepping forward and jamming the gun right up against Sam's cheek, causing Sam to grunt in pain as the skin was pushed against his teeth inside his mouth.

"S-am!" Dean gasped, trying to move and feeling like a knife was ripping through his stomach. Every fibre in him was screaming at Dean to move, to get up and stop that gun from firing. Anything rather than lying on the ground while Sam was executed.

Sam held perfectly still, trying to watch Greg out of the corner of his eye, tasting blood in his mouth as his cheek was caught on his teeth and torn. And then as quickly as it came, the pressure was gone. Greg stepped past Sam instead, then whipped the barrel of the gun down, smacking it hard against his skull. Everything vanished in a bright white flash of pain that dulled to grey as Sam felt himself pitch forward.

Greg moved away from Sam and went back to the emergency room doors. He made sure they were closed, locking them before he pushed a gurney across to keep them blocked. Then he cast his gaze around the room and made his way towards the back where he expected to find more staff hiding.

Dean heard terrified screams echo through the ER and the sound of more gunfire.

"Sonuvabitch!" Dean snarled, wishing he'd been able to bring some sort of weapon in with him. Sam had hit the floor face down. He was still moving, but it was slow, indicating the kid was stunned. "Sam! Sammy! Answer me!"

Any attempt to move was halted by searing pain blossoming from his wound, Dean's hands slippery with blood as he tried to keep the pressure on. All he could feel was blood soaking through his shirt, his jeans. It was all too familiar, which only proved to Dean how screwed his life really was that he was actually familiar with the sensation of bleeding out. His body was shuddering now as shock set in, Dean feeling his heart racing, his breathing heavy in his ears as his eyes slid closed for a moment. He needed to move, needed to get to Sam. That was what mattered now. Knowing that Sam was alright while that psycho was still roaming around.

"Arrrgggh, shit!" Dean gasped, his eyes flying open as a sudden firm pressure met his gut and fire ignited through his insides.

"Sorry! Shit, Dean, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, man. Just keep still. Stay with me, okay?"

"Sam?" Dean blinked in confusion, surprised to find Sam beside him. How the hell? It was obvious from the strain in Sam's face, that the kid must have dragged himself the rest of the way to Dean. He could see a thin line of blood skating around Sam's eyes socket and just skimming down his cheek bone to drip from his jaw in a slow but steady pace. "You're bleeding…"

"So are you, moron." Sam shot back tightly, offering a pained half smile. He had the blanket balled up against Dean's stomach, keeping pressure on the wound as he prayed that he could stem the bleeding until help arrived. There were sirens outside. That had to mean it would be over soon, right?

Dean couldn't stop his shaking, even as he was nestled in close against Sam's leg now. His breath was stuttering and hitching, Dean losing his focus and finding himself increasingly overwhelmed by the almost pulsating white hot ache in his stomach. Like something had actually clawed him open. Everything felt framed in heat and blood and pain, as though there was some dial inside him set to 100 on a scale of how much it should hurt. This was what sucked about being gut shot. It was slow and painful…real painful. He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling violently as he turned into towards Sam more subconsciously, seeking comfort and some form of relief. "Hurts…"

"I know, dude. I know." Sam soothed quietly, fighting his own battle with his injuries. It was hard to stop his own body from shaking as he sat on the floor, his broken leg out in front of him, the other leg tucked in under him. If it hadn't been for the splint allowing his leg to move without shifting the bones inside, Sam knew he would have passed out. His vision was swimming in and out of focus as he maintained the pressure on Dean's wound. His brother's blood was soaking into the leg of his jeans and a steady drip of blood was pattering onto his shirt from the cut above his eye where Greg had pistolwhipped him. "Not much longer, Dean. The cops are just outside. You're gonna be okay and you'll be chatting up nurses again in no time."

"R-Rhon..da…" Dean muttered, his mind replaying the sight of her taking that round and tumbling off her chair.

Sam glanced towards the desk, but there was no movement to be seen. Did that mean she was dead or just hiding like everyone else? Hoping to survive this? "She's gonna be okay too, Dean." It sounded hollow when only a few feet from them, lay several bodies. People who had been gunned down for no reason at all.

In one brief, hysterical moment, Sam realised that Dean was right. Something he had always said. Demons I get, people are crazy…

"S-Sam…" Dean's eyes took a moment to flicker open, his brother's name rasped out with pain.

"I'm right here."

"Don't…don't let me…d…d-die…" Dean pleaded, sounding more like the young boy who Sam used to follow faithfully everywhere while Dad was hunting, than the grown man who Sam was used to seeing now. Dean never voiced his fears. Never pleaded. Not since that night at the cabin when Yellow Eyes had put his insides through a blender…and not since Dean had admitted recently that he didn't want to go to Hell.

Sam had assured him then that he would find a way to save him. He wouldn't let his brother down. He couldn't. Sam needed Dean. He couldn't be the last Winchester standing. Couldn't bear the thought of burning his brother like they had done with Dad. Seeing his father lying dead in the hospital morgue had broken something inside both boys and Sam was sure it would never be fixed. He couldn't go through it again with Dean.

"You're not going anywhere, Dean. I've got you." Sam picked up his brother's hand, ignoring how slick it was with blood and held onto it tightly, even as his other hand kept the blanket pressed against Dean. "I made you a promise, Dean. I'm not breaking that. So you stay with me, okay? Just stay with me.."

Dean's watery, agonised gaze locked onto Sam and steadied as he tried to squeeze his brother's hand. "R-Right here….Sammy…"

"Super Sammy, remember?" Sam replied with a shaky smile, his voice tight and jagged with barely controlled tears that were shimmering in his eyes now. "Just hold onto me. I won't…I won't let go of you. Ever."

Shouts could be heard in the background, followed by more panicked screams and gunfire. Instinctively, Sam curled over the top of Dean to shield him, murmuring to his brother on a calm, soft voice despite the piercing, stabbing jolts through his leg as he moved. "I'm not letting you go. You're okay. I've got you."

Sam had to swallow back bile and take a deep breath, resting his forehead on Dean's shoulder as everything whirled out of focus with dizzying speed. He fought the urge to sob as his own pain overcame him for a moment until Sam swallowed it down. He had to hold on for Dean and step up to the plate for now. A busted leg and head wound was nothing compared to the horror of his brother trembling and bleeding out in his lap.

But then the emergency room was suddenly filled with Police and medical staff, rushing in to tend to the wounded and get the scene under control again. Sam flinched at all the sudden movement, momentarily confused and drawing Dean closer to him to guard him. He had no idea how he must have looked, but it was enough for the nearest cop to lower his gun and call for a doctor to help them.

Forcing himself upright again, Sam saw how pale Dean was looking now with his eyes closed and the freckles over the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks standing out. Dean wasn't trembling anymore and something lurched inside of Sam as panic took hold. "Dean? Dean, answer me."

"It's alright, son, we've got him."

Sam tried to hold onto Dean as a gurney was wheeled over, his hand grasping his brother's tightly as Dean was lifted up away from him by emergency staff, until he was forced to let go. There was still no response from his brother and panic was quickly turning to a raging loss and desperation. No…Dean had to answer him. It was one of those facts of life in Sam's world. His brother would answer him, because Dean could never refuse him anything. "Dean? Dean…answer me, dammit! DEAN!"

"S'mmm?" His name was almost lost as a mask was placed over Dean's face.

But it was still an answer and Sam bit back a sound somewhere between a sob and a whimper that he knew Dean would have laughed at if he'd heard it.

Medical staff were rushing now to move the gurney and get Sam off the floor for his own safety.

"Dean!!" Sam knew they needed to move Dean. He knew they would be rushing him to surgery, but as they wheeled him out of sight, panic surged through his system. He didn't want to be separated right now. What if something went wrong? Sam didn't want Dean alone. He knew his brother hated that feeling of being alone.

And then all rational thought was lost as Sam was lifted from the floor, the broken bone in his leg shifting with a sensation of a machete sinking into the skin and cleaving clean through. It was hot and sharp, a detonation of agony that quickly rushed through his whole body. Consciousness was torn away from him with a ragged cry and he sank into oblivion, praying that he had done enough to keep Dean alive.


The smell was amazing. Truly amazing. Sam refused to believe it was hospital food underneath that lid. No way did hospital food smell that good. He tried to shuffle forward and take a peek, but even with his long, gigantor arms as Dean loved to call them…Sam was having trouble reaching the tray. His fingers brushed the lid, but not enough to allow him to lift it.

With a huff of defeat, Sam sat back in his wheel chair. His broken leg was raised in front of him, plastered in a cast all the way to his knee. It itched like crazy and he had to keep fighting the urge to find things to slip down inside it to try and scratch himself.

Beside him, still sleeping peacefully, was Dean. Looking so young and angelic as he slept, that Sam hadn't been surprised in the slightest that the nursing staff had taken a shine to him. Anything Dean wanted? He got. Which was probably a good thing since they were stuck in here for at least a few more days while Dean's strength returned. The bullet had missed anything vital although Sam wasn't ready to call it a miracle since Dean was still going to die in in a few months if they didn't do something to stop it. A miracle would be his brother being let out of the damn deal.

Then maybe Sam would start thinking that the big guy upstairs was actually listening to him. He wasn't so sure anymore.

"Get your own peach cobbler…" Dean's voice finally broke through the hush in the room, sounding tired and dry as he licked his parched lips.

Sam leaned forward and poured his brother a glass of water, slipping a straw in it before he put the glass to Dean's lips. The move pulled on his back and legs due to his awkward place in the chair, but Sam couldn't have cared less. Because he might not have had this chance. Dean could have died back there. They both could have. Greg's aim could have been higher…he could have pulled the trigger on Sam.

They'd never know why he didn't kill them. The police had found Greg in a back room with his brains all over the wall.

"So who was it this time? Cindy? Kelly?" Sam smiled, knowing that Peach Cobbler was only one perk his brother was getting for turning on the charm with the nurses.

"Rhonda actually." Dean explained, sighing as he finished his drink and sank back into the pillow again. The nurse had stopped by earlier to check on him, hearing that he had asked about her after waking from surgery. Apparently Olivia had been lucky enough to have the day off while her ex boyfriend Greg shot up the ER. Dean wasn't exactly sorry to hear that the asshole was dead, that was for sure.

"I'd get her to bring you some, but she'd never find you in your room." Ever since he had woken up from surgery, Sam had been by his side. It was at the point now that Dean was trying to organise a double room. It would save them needing to wake Sam up to wheel him back to his own room. The stubborn ass would fall asleep in his chair, rather than leave before Dean fell asleep himself. The sooner they could both get out of here, the better. Dean wanted to put this town in his rear view mirror and never look back, even if hunting was going to be light for a few week while Hop-a-long recovered. Maybe they could take some time at Bobby's and do some research on getting out of deals without welching?

"So you're feeling okay?"

"I'm feeling like I got shot in the gut, Sam." Dean answered, pulling himself out of his thoughts and suppressing the urge to roll his eyes at his brother's constant worrying.

"You know what I mean."

"Sam…" Dean sighed. "I'm fine. Okay? As fine as a guy can be in my shoes…but I'm not going anywhere. I'm not checking out on you just yet. So knock it off. The chick flick moment's been and gone, dude." He saw a flash of hurt in his brother's eyes and wanted to smack the kid upside the head. Then guilt washed over him at that thought. Sam wasn't hovering for the hell of it. They had both come close to dying and Dean was all too aware that it meant Hell for him. Torment and torture for eternity…it's wasn't hard to see why Sam was still a little freaked.

"You wanna find something for us to watch?" Dean nodded towards the tv at the end of the bed.

"What? You're trusting me to choose?" Sam sounded a little surprised at Dean's offer of a truce.

"Well it's not like they have pay per view…I think I'm pretty safe from you inflicting your lame ass taste in porn on me."

"Bite me, jerk…I've seen what you use my laptop for." Sam grumbled defensively. He picked up the remote, flicking through the hospitals meagre selection of channels before he settled for an old Charles Bronson movie and the brothers fell silent for a moment, watching the screen.

"Do you think Bobby will have anything we can use?" Sam broke the silence, glancing at Dean.

"If anyone would, it'll be Bobby, dude. He's been calling in every favour he has, I know that much." Dean was surprised to find Sam was on the same wavelength as him, apparently thinking about going to Bobby's. It hadn't been discussed and Dean was warmed by the fact that there was such a connection between them. Sam really did know him it seemed…and in a world where Dean was so used to being someone else, it was nice to know that beneath all that, someone knew him. Really knew him. "Hey…"


"You want the cobbler? I'm not all that hungry anyway. Seems a shame to have it just sit there." Dean smiled at his brother, watching the light switch on the kid's eyes like it always did when they were younger.

"You serious?" Sam was already sitting forward, his mouth drooling like he was Pavlov's Dog.

"Yeah." Dean lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug and pushed the tray closer to his brother. "I can always score another piece…maybe even a sponge bath from Kelly. Did you see the ass on her?'

Sam shook his head as he chuckled, reaching for the tray and removing the lid. The smell of warm Peach Cobbler hit him and had Sam salivating even more. It was thick and rich and definitely homemade. "I'm not in the habit of eyeing off nurses like you, Dean."

"So you weren't checking out that hot little brunette yesterday? What was her name? Melanie…Melinda.."

"Melissa." Sam managed to murmur around a mouthful of cobbler, settling back into his wheelchair with a sigh of sheer bliss. It was good cobbler and Melissa had been sweet and funny…and okay, she was hot. Sam was only human after all.

"I knew you were checking her out." Dean smirked as Sam flipped him the middle finger. He sank back into the bed, watching the movie on TV half heartedly, more interested in watching his brother beside him out of the corner of his eye.

There was no way out of his deal. Dean knew that much. But as long as Sam was alive and with him, he could handle it. Because if anyone could get him through the next few months and find a way to save him? It was Sam. Dean had faith in his brother, more than anything else in the world.