Thanks for all the support: the reviews, the alerts, just reading in general. I hope to catch ya in the next story and I OWN NOTHING



The lingering smell of her shampoo was intoxicating: strawberries and cream. He buried his face in her pillow, wondering where she had was. He made to turn onto his back, to call her name, but froze when he noticed the charred remains hovering over him.

It had once been a familiar woman, the woman that he loved. A scream caught in his throat as she rasped out, "You did this to me." her blackened hands reached for his throat, "YOU DID THIS...!"

Sam jerked awake, his heart thudding against his chest. He ran one shaky hand through his hair, rubbing his aching neck with the other. God, he hated those stupid nightmares.

"You okay?" a woman's voice said startling him. He glanced over, eyes landing on a plump, forty-something blonde. She was standing over Dean's bed, pen poised over his chart, giving Sam a worried look. Her name tag said R. Teague.

"Yeah," the younger Winchester replied sitting up straighter in the uncomfortable hospital chair he had been asleep in. He let his eyes fall on his brother's still form, wondering when he was going to wake up. Dean was hooked up to one IV-the second one, full of blood, having been removed the day before. A nasal canal sat across his face, the heart monitor he was attached to giving off a steady beeping sound.

Dean's color had improved since he had been admitted, three days before. He had to be given a lot of blood, his doctor certain that if he hadn't been given medical attention he would have died. Sam still couldn't think about that possibility without his stomach clenching in fear.

"So, how is he?" Sam asked clearing his throat, looking back at the nurse as she put Dean's chart back at the foot of his bed.

"Well, his blood pressure is up, his vitals are strong, and his leg is healing nicely. I'm sure he'll be waking up any time now." That's what they had been saying for the past day and a half, but still Dean stayed unconscious. Sam was starting to wonder if his brother would wake up at all.

"You should go home. You haven't left since he was admitted. Don't you miss your own bed?" Kinda hard to miss something I really don't have, Sam thought bitterly, but managed to give Nurse Teague a smile and a polite, "I'll go home when Dean wakes up."

"You do know we can call you when he wakes up?" Sam gave the nurse a half-glare and she raised her hands and said, "Fine, don't say I didn't offer." and she left, closing the door behind her.

"Come on, Dean. Wake up," Sam whispered setting his arms, one on top of the other, on Dean's bed and resting his chin on them. Was it so much to ask for a frigging sign of...? Sam's thoughts trailed off when he noticed Dean's fingers twitch. "Dean?" he sat up, watching his brother expectantly.

Dean's eyelids fluttered causing Sam to stop breathing. He waited, keeping a close eye on his brother. Seconds later heavy eyelids opened to reveal a pair of confused green eyes and the younger Winchester let out a relieved and shaky breath. Dean brought his right hand up, trying to pull his nasal canal out, but Sam caught his hand to stop him.

"Leave it, Dean," he said letting his brother's hand go.

"W...Where am I?" Dean croaked out letting his eyes scan the room. He spotted white walls, machines, a dimmed florescent light. His nose crinkled at the antiseptic in the air. "Hospital?" he murmured answering his own question.

"Yeah," Sam replied snatching the bed controller off the hook in hung from. He pressed the button, letting his brother's bed rise so he was sitting up slightly. The change in altitude turned the older brother green for a second, but he managed to push any thoughts of throwing up away. "How'd we..." Dean tried clearing his throat, grimacing at the pain he felt.

"Hold on," Sam said picking up a pink, plastic jug and pouring water in a matching cup. He offered the beverage to his brother, watching as Dean took a couple tentative sips before draining the glass. "Better?'

The older Winchester nodded before continuing with his question, his voice much stronger, "How did we get here?"

"Well, since you didn't tell me your leg had started bleeding again, you ended up passing out from extensive blood loss. Bernie made it to the island about ten seconds after that, and he took us back to his place and called an ambulance. You had me so worried, you idiot."

"I didn't wanna worry you," Dean muttered fighting to keep his eyes open.

"You did such a bang up job on that, Dean," Sam retorted sarcastically. He took a deep breath, really wanting to continue this conversation, but deciding against it. "Look, we'll continue the Q and A later. You should probably rest."

"I just woke up," Dean half-heartedly argued.

"Rest," Sam replied lowering the beg again. The bed was barely back in place before Dean's breath had deepened and he was sleeping again. Sam took another shaky breath, running both his hands down his face. One crisis averted, about a hundred more to go.


10 days later...

After almost two weeks off his feet, Dean was going crazy. The upside, his stitches were being removed today, which meant he didn't have to worry about walking on 'egg shells' while he did simple things: like use the bathroom-something he had been doing since he was two.

The doctor, a different from the one he had in Michigan, told jokes while he worked. Dean found the jokes cheesy, but was too jazzed about being able to hunt again to really mind. Sam, on the other hand, stood in the corner with a pensive look on his face. He was probably trying to piece together what was so funny about the jokes Dr. Hurley was saying.

Or he was thinking about the information they had come up with the three extra days they stayed in Firestone before leaving. Apparently, Humphrey Senior had been killed on that island five months after Jeremy died (a shotgun wound to the head), on the exact date Dean and Sam had stepped foot on the island. The murderer was never caught, but Sam suspected that Jeremy's father might have had something to do with it.

Dean disagreed, he figured Humphrey went back to the island because he thought he saw Jeremy, figured he was still alive-despite what they did to him-and took a shotgun to finish the job. Like Jeremy did with Dean, he shot Humphrey himself. Regardless of the real reason, both spirits were gone. Still no one in the small town of Firestone would step foot on the island.

Once stitch-free, Sam dropped Dean off at the motel and headed into town for dinner. It was fine by the older hunter, he wanted some time by himself anyway. After a week and a half of Sam hovering like a worried mother it was good to be away from him for a while.

Dean flicked on the old clock radio sitting on the night-stand, Styx's Renegade was just starting. He turned it up, singing along to the song. He started packing his stuff, bobbing his head to the music. Once his stuff was put away, the guitar solo blaring, he jumped up on his bed playing air guitar. He was banging his head to the music, singing louder to the song.

The radio clicked off, the sudden silence startling him. He looked around, eyes landing on his brother who was wearing an amused look on his face.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam asked slowly.

"I was... Why are you back so soon?" Dean stepped off his bed, now aware of the slight twinge of pain in his leg, and sat down on the mattress. He could feel his face burning with embarrassment.

"I forgot my money clip. You know, for the food." Sam picked up the clip off the small, kitchenette's counter. He headed toward the door, freezing with his hand on the door knob. "Tylenol's in my bag." was all he said before opening the door and disappearing outside. As he closed the door behind him, Dean pushed himself to his feet and limped over to Sam's bag.

As he dumped three pills into his hand, putting the Tylenol bottle back amongst Sam's things, he made a mental note not to do that again on a hurt leg. Or when Sam might walk in.

He downed the pills with the help of water and sat down on the couch, flicking the television on. Maybe watching a little craptastic daytime television would be the safer choice. As he flicked through the channels, stopping on an Oprah special on Mad Cow Disease, he shook his head once. He couldn't believe he just did that. He just hoped Sam didn't capture it on video. He would kill his brother if it ended up on YouTube.



This was supposed to be posted next week, but I started writing and couldn't stop. So, it is early. Since it was such a serious story, I decided to end it with a little comedy. I hope ya liked it.

Let me know what you think.