Hey everyone! Here's another fic that I co-wrote with AnastaziaDanielle; since "Life's Little Surprises" we also wrote another one called "Not Right Now" which is posted on her profile if you want to check it out. Anyway, this story is set during Season 6 after 6x14. Nothing AU to report apart from the scenario, so in show verse, Sam has been 're-souled' and everything of that nature. Please leave a review and let us know what you think :)

Disclaimer: We don't own the boys, but we sure wish we could hug them.

This chapter was written by: LadyWallace

If It All Falls Down

A Supernatural Fanfic

Chapter One

Dean glanced over to the passenger seat of the Impala, watching Sam as he dozed lightly, his arm against the window, pillowing his cheek. It had been nearly a month now since he had gotten his soul back, and Dean still had to remind himself that he actually did have his brother back to normal—or whatever normal for them was, anyway. At least Sam wasn't an uncaring psychopath without a scrap of scruples to be found anymore. He would never get over the feeling of hearing Sam sympathize with a victim again and use tact and those puppy eyes to reassure the people they were trying to help. It had been exhausting for Dean to have to play both roles, and that was definitely a huge factor as to why he was glad Sam was back to normal.

But of course, it went beyond that to the simple fact he was just glad to have his brother back. Soulless Sam had scared the crap out of him, even if he would never admit that to anyone, and having normal Sam, his Sammy, back made him feel whole again. Yeah, it was stupid and girly to think like that, but he couldn't help if that was how he felt. He just knew he and his little brother worked better as a team and they hadn't been when Sam couldn't care less whether Dean lived or died. Whether he had actually been a better hunter or not, Dean wouldn't trade his Sam for the world.

But this didn't come without worries either. Death had warned Dean that if Sam scratched the 'wall' he had put up to keep Sam's memories of hell locked away, there could be consequences. And after that job with those spider freaks where Sam had been forced into having flashbacks of his previous case in the town, resulting in a physical collapse, Dean had been watching him more closely than ever. He knew they should be taking it easy, and he also knew that Sam wasn't going to have that, but if anything like that happened again, Dean was going to force him into a sabbatical if he had to. It had been one of the worst moments in his life seeing Sam lying on the ground, thinking he had lost him again—and that was saying something considering their lives. He had not forgotten to look on Cas' face when the angel told him Sam's soul felt like it had been skinned alive. The thought of what his brother might have endured made Dean sick, and he would do anything for Sam not to have to remember that. He had been a wreck when he came back from hell, and he knew Sam had endured worse.

But worrying wasn't going to help anything. They were on their way back to Bobby's after another case Sam had found for them. Dean was ready to take a few days' rest, but they wouldn't be back in South Dakota until tomorrow. One more night in a sleazy motel and hopefully, Sam wouldn't look at too many newspapers in the meantime.

Dean left Sam sleeping when he pulled into a motel and went to get a room for the night. The younger Winchester started as Dean closed the door again to drive over to their room. He stifled a yawn and looked around, somewhat dazed.

"We stopping already?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean told him. "You were asleep for a few hours. You hungry?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded and they carried their bags into the room before heading across the street to a diner. Dean watched his brother closely as he ordered a soup and salad, and made sure he was eating. At least his appetite had seemed to be fine despite the ordeal. Maybe due to the fact that soulless Sam had hardly eaten anything or slept, like, at all. Sam finally caught him checking up though and gave a little annoyed sigh through his nose.

"Dean, I'm alright. I promise."

"Just making sure," Dean said defensively. "Because collapsing the other day wasn't you being alright."

"I know," Sam admitted quietly. "But I haven't felt bad since, and I think it was just due to stress and remembering so much."

"Yeah, exactly," Dean replied grimly, dropping a French fry back onto his plate, suddenly finding it less than appetizing. "Sam, if you start remembering too much from the time you were soulless, you could start remembering hell next and everyone has said it will turn you into a puddle of jello. I don't want that, and I don't think you do either."

"No, Dean," Sam sighed tiredly. "I don't. And I promise I won't try to remember anything unless I have to. I'll let you know if something's wrong."

"You had better," Dean told him. "With everything else we have to think about, I can't be worrying you'll drop into a coma at any second when I need you at my back."

Sam offered him a tired but reassuring smile. "I've always got your back, Dean. Despite what soulless me might have led you to believe." He winced, thinking back to what Cas had told him about his less than greatest hits while he was walking around without a soul.

Dean smiled back. "Yeah, I know. I trust you. I just think you should take it easy for a little longer, is all I'm saying. And no revisiting old hunting grounds."

"Don't worry, I'm not looking forward to doing that again any time soon," Sam said wryly.

They went back to the motel after dinner and Sam sat at the table with his computer while Dean idly flipped channels on the TV, the usual set up for the Winchesters. It felt good, familiar, and for a moment, Dean was able to think this was just another routine day in their lives. That he wasn't worrying about the sudden influx of monsters running around, and that his brother could become a drooling vegetable if he thought too hard about past events.

"Hey, Dean," Sam called.

"Hm?" Dean hummed, not looking up from the TV.

"It sounds like there might be a haunting a few towns over. Hitchhiker maybe. Drivers have been reported to see a figure in the road, which they then swerve to avoid and crash. They say they lose completely control of their cars, as if everything locks up or something. Those who survive, that is. Locals have put it down to a lunatic running around, but the police have found no traces of anyone in the vicinity."

Dean sighed. "Sammy, I thought we were going to take a knee for a while."

"Dean, three people have died already in the last two months and several others have been critically injured," Sam said. "These cases usually aren't that hard to figure out; it would likely be a routine salt and burn. It would take another day or two at the most."

Dean chewed his lip. On the one hand, he knew it was their duty, and it was true that it would probably be an easy job, but he was just worried about Sam overworking himself. Of course, just hearing his previously soulless brother worried for the safety of anyone again did make Dean feel a little better.

"Alright, fine, we'll check it out tomorrow," Dean caved, knowing Sam wouldn't let this go and deciding it was better than dealing with his sulking.

Sam nodded in satisfaction and did a little more research before he climbed into bed, looking exhausted. He sprawled out on his stomach, his feet hanging off the too-short bed and was asleep almost instantly. Dean watched him a few minutes before he went to take a quick shower and change into sleep clothes.

When he came out of the shower, he heard a slight moan and saw Sam twitching in the bed, half curled on his side. Dean hurried over to him, and carefully put a hand on his back, not knowing how he would react. Sam flinched at the contact, but didn't wake up, seeming to be caught in a nightmare. Dean rubbed his hand between his shoulder blades soothingly and spoke to him quietly.

"It's okay, Sammy. I'm here." This had always worked to calm him down as a kid, and it still seemed to do the trick because Sam sighed in his sleep and relaxed again, burying his face in his pillow. Dean watched him a few more minutes, still rubbing his back before he pulled the covers over Sam's shoulders and then got into his own bed, hoping his brother wouldn't suffer another nightmare. Who knew what sorts of memories could be unlocked while he slept?

The next morning, they set off for the town where the possible hitchhiker was supposed to be. Sam still looked a little tired but Dean didn't push the subject of nightmares. He hoped they were just nightmares and not memories.

It was around noon when they got to the town, and as usual, they did a little researching, Sam going to the library to look into current news articles to get more information and Dean asking around to see what the locals had to say. They regrouped for dinner at a restaurant beside their motel to share what they had found out.

"So it sounds like there is some suspicion about what's going on out on the road at night," Dean said, sitting down at the table. "All the people I talked to seem to think there's some local legend about a guy who crashed particularly badly after being run off the road. Or that's how the story goes, anyway. Nothing was ever proven and the police couldn't make any real headway in the case. What did you find out?"

Sam nodded. "I found some info that backs that theory up. About five years ago, there was a crash reported, a man named Jacob Hunt. Apperently, a few days before the crash he was convinced someone was out to get him, but no one believed his story. Until he crashed the car on a seemingly empty road one night when he was reportedly sober."

"Well, unsolved cases and unresolved justice usually make a vengeful spirit," Dean said. "I guess we should find out where he was buried and go salt and burn tonight."

"Problem—he was cremated," Sam informed him. "I think we might have to check out the site of the crash. There might be something left there that the police missed."

"Great," Dean sighed before smiling at the waitress who came to take their order. "First, though, dinner."

Once the town was pretty much asleep for the night, Sam and Dean left the hotel and drove down to the highway out of town, to the site of the crash. It was eerily lonely, as if everyone had decided to give it a wide berth due to the current misfortunes. A smart call, Dean thought.

"How much farther?" he asked Sam who was watching the mile markers pass.

"Just up ahead, according to the report," the younger Winchester informed him.

"Just hope we find what we need to," Dean grunted. "You might not think you need a rest, but I do and I wasn't even soulless for the better part of a year and a half."

Sam huffed a laugh. "Don't worry, you can get your beauty sleep when we get back to Bobby's."

Just then the radio flitted out, running to static after flipping through the stations for a few seconds. Dean tapped it on instinct, before he looked at Sam knowingly.

"I think we're here," Sam told him needlessly.

"Ya think?" Dean snarked.

"Dean!" Sam suddenly shouted, looking ahead again.

Dean flicked his gaze back to the road and saw a man standing there. Despite his instinct to swerve, Dean stepped harder on the gas and drove the Impala right through the figure who dissipated into mist. Dean slammed on the brakes and turned the car around to head back to the site of the accident.

"Well, at least we know we were right," Dean told him. "Not quite a hitchhiker, but we definitely have a ghost on our hands."

"Let's go check out the site of the crash and see if there's anything the ghost might be attached to," Sam told him.

Dean continued back to the curve in the road he had recognized from the pictures on the newspaper, when the radio flickered again and he felt the air temperature suddenly drop in the car, his and Sam's breath misting in front of them.

"Not good," Sam commented just as Dean felt a shift in the Impala. The engine revved, and the wheel jerked in his hands.

"Oh no you don't!" Dean growled in anger, trying to wrestle the steering wheel away from the ghost as he slammed on the brake. Nothing happened, and the car only sped down the road faster, the speedometer reading up to 75. "You get your ghosty mitts off my baby!"

But it was all to no avail. The ghost was not going to let go of the car, and Dean saw the corner of the road coming up and knew the only thing left to do was brace for impact. He cast a quick glance over at his brother.

"Hold on, Sam," he breathed before the ghost drove the car off the road at high speed and into the ditch. The Impala almost became airborne before it dipped down into the ditch and flipped onto its back in a crunch of metal and breaking glass. Dean was flung against the roof, hitting his head and shoulder before blacking out.

When he came too, he was lying on his back on the upturned roof of the Impala, one arm filled with glass shards from the window and his right leg twisted painfully between his body and the top of the seat. He groaned, trying to take stock of his body to see if anything was broken. He hurt a lot, but he didn't think anything was busted. What he was really worried about was his brother.

He took a deep breath and ended up coughing, his whole chest and back lighting with pain from the battering he had taken. "Sam?" he croaked, trying to force his eyes open for the first time to look for his brother. "Sammy?"

He shifted, feeling glass dig into his back and hands, but he didn't care. He looked over to the passenger side and saw only Sam's legs still in the car, the rest of him having gone through the windshield.

"Sammy!" Dean cried, forcing his body up and awkwardly crawling up his brother's body to find his head, instantly grateful he hadn't been crushed by the car itself. "Always looking after us, Baby," Dean had to mutter in relief as he put a careful hand on Sam's chin and turned his face around so he could look at him, checking his pulse as he did so, breathing another prayer of thanks his brother was alive.

However, he revealed a bloody lump on Sam's temple that was matting the hair to his cheek. Dean quickly looked over the rest of his body, seeing cuts from the glass, and thinking his wrist might be broken for it was swollen and at a slightly odd angle.

"Sammy, come on, wake up," Dean coaxed his brother, patting his cheek gently. Once he made sure there weren't worse injuries, he started to slide Sam out from under the car, his own body protesting, but he wanted more room to check Sam over, worried that he hadn't woken yet.

As he pulled him out into the moonlight, he noticed more blood than he had thought there was on Sam's head. Cautiously, Dean touched the back of his brother's head and felt the wet, stickiness that matted his hair all on one side. He knew head wounds bled badly, but still, this seemed bad. His stomach dropped and his hand shook as he tried to get his brother to wake up again, finally resulting in shouting and shaking him when nothing else worked.

"Sam!" Dean screamed, coughing again, as he finally gave up and just cradled his brother's head in his lap, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. Sam wouldn't wake up. It might be the head injury, but what if it was worse than that. What if the injury had knocked the wall loose in Sam's mind and he was in another traumatized coma, reliving every horror he had gone through in hell.

"Sammy, please wake up," Dean whispered, bending to press his head to Sam's. "Please. Sam!"

To be continued...