I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.

Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.


Dean met Sam's eyes for the first time in days. Even though Dean could clearly see the pain in his little brother's blurred gaze, Sam was awake.

He moved up so he could se Sam better. "Hey." He smiled a little.

Sam's hand moved towards his brother and Dean took his Sam's cold fingers in his.

"Dean." He could hardly even whisper.

"You doing all right?"

Sam shook his head slightly, enough that Dean could see. Every inch of him hurt like he had gone ten rounds with a particularly pissed off poltergeist. His throat burned and his mouth was dry. His head throbbed with every heartbeat like a jackhammer.

"What hurts?" He reached for the glass of water on the table.

Sam closed his eyes as Dean allowed him a small drink. He looked at his older brother and tried to tell him without words everything that was wrong.

Dean cupped his palm against Sam's jaw. "Hey, you're all right. We'll just play a little game of twenty questions. One finger for yes, two for no. Got it?"

Sam held up one finger.

"Knew you were the smart one." He winked.

He managed a small smile and knew he'd be all right, Dean was looking out for him.

"Your head hurt?"

One finger.

"How bad?"

Nine fingers out of ten.

Dean turned when he heard John shift in the chair behind him. John's gaze was fixed on his youngest, it was the best thing he had seen in weeks.

"How's he doing?" John went straight to Dean for the answers.

He squeezed Sam's hand. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind some pain killers and a glass of apple juice."

John got to his feet and Dean could hear his spine crack from across the room as he stretched. For a moment John looked older, Dean had never really thought about it before. John left the room.

Dean turned his attention back to Sam. "Dad's gonna get you something to help. Anything else hurt?"

One finger.

"Everything else hurt?"

A faint smile that was more of a grimace and one finger. It was then that Sam became aware of something in his other hand. He looked over and saw one of Pastor Jim's wooden rosaries tangled around his fingers. He shot a questioning look to Dean.

"Pastor Jim gave it to you, after we got you back here. I guess it's proof that you're okay."

Sam tightened his hand around it. He liked holding onto it, like it could protect him somehow.

"You want to hold onto it for a little longer?" Dean hadn't missed the way Sam tightened his grip on the small, wooden cross.

One finger.

John came back into the room with a small glass of juice and a bottle of pills. Strong ones. Carefully, Dean helped Sam sit up against the pillows some. Sam had his eyes screwed shut as he moved, he hadn't realized he was so bruised and hurt as he was. His ribs ached and the back of his shoulders and head were sore. He didn't have any idea why, but it also wasn't the focus of his concerns at the moment.

He felt Dean's hands on his shoulders. "Just breathe, Sammy. Nice and slow."

When he had finally gained control of his breathing again, Sam opened his eyes and met Dean's. There was worry still, under the relief.

"Think you can swallow these?" Dean tipped the pills into Sam's mouth and held up the glass of juice.

Sam wanted to finish the entire glass, he never had realized that apple juice could taste so amazing. Dean pulled the glass back and he smiled.

"Not too much, otherwise you'll get sick. You haven't really had anything in a few days, Sammy." Dean set the glass on the table. "Gotta take it slow."

"H'long was I out?" His voice was a little stronger.

Dean's jaw tightened. "Little more than a day."

He held Dean's eyes. "M'okay?"

"Yeah." He smiled out of relief. "You are."

Whether it was the pain medication or the little bit that he was awake, Sam was already falling back asleep. His instinct was to fight it, he didn't want to miss anything else, but he was so tired.

Dean brushed Sam's hair away from his face. "Sleep, we're not going anywhere."

Sam's eyes slipped closed and he was asleep. Dean didn't worry if he'd wake up again, he knew he would.

Pastor Jim stood in the doorway. "How is he?"

Dean turned. "He woke up, drank some juice." He couldn't help but smile. "Thank you."

Certain that his boy was all right, John allowed himself to be persuaded to get a few hours real sleep in a bed. Jim could be very determined if he so choose to be. Dean moved to the chair John had been in, but wouldn't leave the room and Jim knew better than to try.


When Sam woke again, the room was dark. He felt a little better, everything hurt just slightly less and his thoughts were clearer. He could make out Dean sleep in the chair across the room. Pastor Jim sat in another chair closer to the bed.

"Sam, you all right?" Jim whispered.

He nodded and was grateful when Jim held a glass of juice to Sam's lips. Jim let him drink all of it and Sam could hardly remember the last time he experienced anything so wonderful.

"You want to try some toast or wait until morning?"

Sam swallowed. "Morning." He whispered. "Pastor Jim?" His voice was already fading.

Jim took Sam's hand. "What do you need?"

"Thanks." He lifted the hand that held the rosary, to give it back.

"That's yours, Sam." Jim winked. "To remind you that you're okay."

He smiled slightly and slipped back asleep. Jim felt Sam's fingers relax in sleep and he let go.

Jim was amazed that Dean hadn't woken, usually he knew his little brother's every move. He leaned back in the chair and sighed, his gaze still fixed on Sam. Jim smiled when he still thought of Sam as a boy, rather than a young man of sixteen that most of the time acted so much older. At the moment though, he looked young and vulnerable.

"He all right?" Dean whispered from across the room.

So much for Dean not waking up. "He's fine. Get some more sleep, I'll keep an eye on him."

Dean slumped back down in the chair and was out.

Jim sat at Sam's bedside for the rest of the night. He couldn't imagine a world without Sam Winchester, and he didn't ever want to. John's boys were nearly his own, as far as Jim was concerned, they were. He rested his hand on Sam's forehead and felt no fever. For the first time in days, Jim was convinced that the boy was out of the woods. He hated to remember back to the night when the Winchesters first pulled up and Sam was carried in and it was so uncertain if the boy would even make it through the night. Whether the Winchesters believed it or not, there was definitely someone looking out for them, and Jim was thankful for that.


Okay, first order of business. I'm so so sorry for taking so long to post this next chapter. Things got busy and life happened and my muse for writing this story took a vacation and I can keep making excuses. I'm sorry, but thank you a million times for sticking with this story and the wonderful reviews. I'm thinking one more chapter, just a few more loose ends to wrap up and then we're done.

Thank you all again for reading and reviewing, it really does mean a lot to me.