By: Karen B.

Spoiler warning: Season five. Episdoe 5-13

Summary: Season five spoiler warning. Missing scene -- The Song Remains The Same. Episode 5-13

Disclaimer: Not the owner!

Rated: Angst and despair.

Thank you for chancing a read.

Sunshine even in rain,


Everything happened in a flash of stabbing pain. A force striking me in the gut, the cold steel ramming in deep. The pain was bad, drawing me backward against the wall and slowly dragging me down. Something stuck in my throat and I shivered uncontrollably, like I had been plunged into freezing water.

I turned my head, searching for Dean. Everything was blurring and bunching together, was like trying to see through prescription glasses when I didn't need prescription glasses. My heart lurched and fluttered. Some how I managed to focus. Dean's eyes met mine from across the room. I tried to hang-on to him from here, hang-on for dear life through sight alone. I needed my brother near, but he was trapped in Uriel's hold. I tried to stay standing. Tried to back him up, tried to keep breathing. I couldn't do any of the above.

"De," I coughed up that something that was stuck in my throat -- blood -- mine.

I knew I was dying. Mostly dead already. And all I could think was -- better me than him. All I wanted was to say goodbye. I couldn't. I was out of breath. I just needed to make sure Dean was all right. God, I just needed to know he was all right. I didn't get that chance as I thudded to the floor and folded into a ball. A strange black void quickly took over, and I was tumbling through darkness. There was no time for goodbyes, no time for anything.

I plummeted through black shadows, for how long, I couldn't be sure.

"Sam." The nameless voice called, pursuing me through the dark.

More meaningless jabber bounced around inside the dark space I was in. I was paralyzed, and certainly couldn't answer. But the incessant buzz in my ears wouldn't leave me be. I was really confused, and scared. But the voice was reassuring and caring, repeating my name over and over again, the words dancing all around me.

I creaked open an eye. I was curled on my side, lying on a motel bed, both my hands clamped down tight against my stomach, all ten fingers digging into my shirt. I mumbled something, something about needing to say goodbye, needing to help someone. Suddenly, the need to move was strong and I thrashed about like a fish caught in a net.

"Don't get up just yet," the voice said, and I was remotely aware of being guided back down to my curled position.

I was shivering hard and tired beyond any words.

"Sam. Sammy!" The loud panicked tone coaxed me further out of the dark, and I opened my eyes all the way.

Dean was leaning forward over me, jaw clenched. His hands were pawing at mine, trying to unfurl my fingers. "Let me see. Sammy, I need to see. Need to make sure."

"De," I tried to utter his name, but couldn't get the word past my lips or keep my eyes open. I fell limply back to the bed. I was cold. Shakey. "Gah," I groaned in frustration and despair. I wanted to stand, but a deep rooted instinct kept me curled in that tight ball, still gripping at my gut -- harder if that was possible.

"Look at me," Dean commanded, but I couldn't just yet. I felt sluggish, confused and backward. The black void I'd been in had now turned white as a piece of paper."Sam, please." Dean's tone was strained, almost on the verge of tears. "I need to be sure." His entire body was hunched so close to mine I could feel his heart beating fast, feel the rockhard tension in ever one of my brother's muscles and raw nerves. "Bro, please." Was Dean begging?

I winced, forcing myself to open my eyes and turn my head. Glancing up, I zeroed in on Dean. He had a scared look on his face, really scared.

"Sam, damnit let go!" Dean's gaze bore into me, his lips trembling as he tugged frantically at my hands. "So help me...if that angelic bastard lied…"

"Who?" I frowned. "Wha'? Why?"

Out of left field, or was it right, I remembered everything. I was horribly wounded and Dean couldn't get to me. He was across the room. Fighting with Uriel. Wouldn't have mattered anyway if he could have gotten to me sooner. He couldn't stop the bleeding. How the hell was I still alive? I fought Dean's hands, keeping pressure against my stomach. He didn't need to see the gore. Didn't need to try.

Something strange registered or rather didn't register. There was no pain, my hands had stopped shaking and I didn't feel cold anymore. I groped along my belly. No warm sticky mess. I lifted my hand and glanced down. Nothing. Not even a tear in my shirt. "It's okay." I breathed out. "I'm okay." I struggled to sit up. "Just…" I paused in confusion. "Angel transport did a number on my head."

"You sure?" Dean grabbed my hands roughly, his trembling fingers pulling at my shirt, fumbling around. He averted his gaze from my gut where the wound should be to my face, and back agin. Examining, searching, uncertain.

"No blood." I shrugged, and swallowed at the same time. Damn I felt like puking. Time travel -- sucked.

Took a minute before Dean finally sat back releasing what I assumd was a long-held sigh. I watched his tense muscles drain one by one, like grains of sand through an hourglass. "Thank God." Dean pulled me up into his arms and hugged me close. "It was Michael, wearing past dad. After a little chat he said he sent you home safe," Dean breathed into my ear. "Wasn't sure I believed him. You scared the freak out of me, freak!" Dean pushed me away, held me at arms length, eyes still roaming over where the fatal wound should be. I watched Dean nibble away on his lip for exactly two more seconds before his face turned stone cold. "Don't!" Dean pointed a stiff, accusing finger at me. "You ever friggin' do that to me again, dude!" Dean's face flushed deep red in what he always called anger, but what I knew was fear. "Say it, Sam," he ordered.

"Say what?" I cocked my head.

"You know what, man!" Dean yelled.

This wasn't going to be a gradual meltdown. Dean was beyond scared. He thought I'd caught that train -- again. I did. No time to send a postcard though -- I was back. Thanks to Michael, I guessed.

"Say it." Dean edged closer his finger replaced by his face. "Look me in the eye and say it."

I looked Dean in the eye, swallowed back the puke, and said what I knew he needed to hear, "I'm still with you."

"Again!" Dean demanded.

"I'm… still… with... you," I said more slowly.

Dean gave me the 'are you sure' look.

I nodded.

"Good." Dean shot from the bed insanely fast, like twenty sticks of dynamite had just blown his ass off. He started pacing the room, enraged. "Because I taught you better than that, bitch!" he yelled. "Stepping into a sharp object isn't healthy, man!" Dean ranted. "Stupid. Just stupid! Two years of college and you're hardly smart. What were you thinking?" Dean panted heavily.

I opened my mouth to say what I was thinking, but didn't get a word out because Dean got the words out for me. Only they weren't my words, they were his.

"You weren't thinking Sam. That's what you were thinking," Dean informed, hands waving wildly in the air. "I'm not going to lose you again. You're not going to say goodbye!" Dean put his fist through the nearest wall "Sonofabitch," he grunted in pain.

"No, I'm not," I promised. "No goodbyes, Dean," I assured, cringing when he tucked his already swelling fist against his chest.

"Not today, Sam." Dean continued pacing.

"Not today," I repeated.

"Not now."

"No, bro, not now," I agreed.

"Not on my watch."

"Not on your watch, dude."

"Not ever, Sammy, damn it!" Dean went to punch another wall, but must have thought better of it as he punched at nothing but air. "That D'eja' vu crap…doesn't work for me, Sam."

"Me either," I admitted, feeling sicker.

I couldn't decide what hurt worse. My head, watching Dean pace like an rabid animal, or seeing that 'I rather die' look on his face. He could hardly breathe, his ragged breath coming in and out so fast. His body was back to being tense. "They don't have us, yet. They're not getting us, ever!" He swore under his breath.

"Dean, just calm down, man, I'm alive," I whispered.

Dean's misty eyes drew to me.

"For how long?" He asked seeming to calm. "For any of us on this forsaken planet, Sammy? I mean Cas isn't even back yet."

Silence hung between us for a moment. "I need a drink. We both do," Dean grumbled, turning toward the whiskey bottle sitting on the dresser.

"No." I stopped him. "No drink. Let's just…just get cleaned up and pack. Get out of here."

"Yeah, okay," I watched Dean start to gather up our stuff, growing calm just about as fast as he'd grown angry.

Crap, I was worried sick over Cas. We both were. And worse, what was it going to take to get Lucifer and Michael off our backs? Nothing we did so far worked. Every new road we took brought us slamming into invisible brick walls. There always seemed to be some trick, some weakness they could pin to our asses. How were we going to stop either of them? Primitive weapons. Maybe a butter knife or fork to the heart. How many more courses to hell could we elude? How many more times would one of us be nailed in a grave bed -- choking down squirming bugs? Would we really say yes? How could we? Why would we? Yet, everything pointed to that one little word. One little word that would end it all.

The end