A/N: Here we are at the conclusion of another story. Thank you so much to everyone for reading, reviewing and also for the follows and favorites. The reviews I received last chapter made me smile even though I have been feeling down. I hope you'll enjoy the conclusion to this story and that I'll see you next story.

"A coma?" Dean asked, aghast.

On top of everything else, he thought wearily.

"We aren't sure if it's due to the level of trauma he endured or something more sinister," Dr. Emilio continued. "We just need to focus on the positive right now."

Dean snorted out a mirthless chuckle. He was not seeing any silver lining right now, just enormous gray storm clouds crackling with lightening.

The positive? Seriously?

"Sam survived the surgery and we repositioned his organs, taking pressure off his lungs, which was the first step," Dr. Emilio finished.

"Can I see him?" Dean asked.

"He's in recovery but someone will come down to escort you to the ICU once Sam is settled," the doctor replied. "You know it was fortunate that the impact was to Sam's left side, and not his right. The mortality rate is higher and there'd probably be liver injuries as well."

Dean nodded glumly. He couldn't make this doctor out. He had supposed positives for every negative, but they weren't really positives at all. Sam was nowhere near out of the woods. In fact, he was lost in them, somewhere.

The doctor left him then and he didn't move from his position, just sat with his chin resting on his hands, lost in thought.

A nurse came to get him not soon after, and they made the solemn walk to the elevators, up to the fifth floor, to Sam's room.

When he walked in, Sam was propped up in the bed slightly, the ventilator mechanically breathing for him. He had a feeling he'd see one given Sam's condition, but still it sent him reeling.

"I'm Gloria and I'll be Sam's nurse today," she said, as she approached Sam's bed. "Do you want me to explain what everything is?" The nurse asked.

Dean took it all in, the machinery, the heart monitor, the multiple IV bags suspended over Sam's head. Then he looked at Sam's face, a bandage on his forehead over his eyebrow covering a head wound, smaller cuts and roadrash on the side of his cheek. Sam's arm was propped up on a pillow, encased in a bandage and brace that extended from above his elbow to his hand.

"I think I know it all," Dean said, sadly.

"If you have questions, ask," She said, with a smile. "I think you've been informed about Sam's coma, but you can talk to him. They also have not placed his arm in a cast yet. They need to wait for the swelling to go down and ensure there is no infection present. I'll be in frequently to check on him, but if you need anything beforehand, let me know."

Dean stumbled over to the chair beside Sam's bed and collapsed into it, as Gloria left the room.

"Oh, Sam," someone muttered.

Dean looked up to see Sully standing next to Sam's bed, looking down at him glumly.

"Sam is so far away," Sully said, dejectedly.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Zanna can sense when their kid...or even their former kid...is gone...or...,"

"Or what Sully?" Dean demanded.

"Or in the in between," Sully finished, confirming Dean's fears. "Like after the trials when Sam was so sick."

"You knew?"

"I always kept an eye on Sam. He is... was my best friend," Sully corrected. "If you want me to go, I can," Sully offered. "I mean your his brother, and I'm just, me."

"No, it's okay," Dean said honestly. Although he didn't want to admit it, he found Sully oddly comforting. At least he didn't have to go through this alone. He'd called for Cas during his pacing and didn't receive a response.

He watched Sully lean on the railing of Sam's bed, not daring to touch him, and Dean wasn't sure what he saw in his face, but he swore he saw some guilt there. He had no idea why, or why Sully spoke of Sam being his friend in the past tense, but he understood the feeling. Right now he wasn't sure how to reach out to Sam either.

"You know, I never understood why Sam even liked me," Sully began, wistfully, looking down at Sam's face.

Sam's features remained relaxed, his hair resting on the pillow, his long, dark eyelashes standing out in contrast against his pale skin.

"I wasn't as cool as any of the others," Sully continued. I didn't have a mermaid tail, or play air guitar like Weems, or sparkle. Aside from whipping up marshmallow nachos, there wasn't anything really special about me."

"Well, Sam saw something there," Dean replied.

"I know," Sully said, his voice cracking. "Sam sees the good in everyone. That's what makes him so special."

"You listened to him when he needed it," Dean continued. "I guess, for Sam, you did sparkle."

Dean was surprised by the moisture that sprung to his eyes then, because he hadn't been listening to Sam had he? Sure Sam acted like he didn't want to talk, but he was sending signals left and right. He should have been trying to understand his silence and coax him out of it, instead of reprimanding him for it.

"But I was nothing like you," Sully said, turning to him.

"Huh?" Dean asked, regaining his composure, taken aback.

"I mean, I was always so jealous of you," Sully continued, shyly, then. "Because I knew I wouldn't get much time with Sam, not once he started hunting with you. He was so torn with his hopes and dreams. He had a negative view of himself, but he always wanted to be just like you. I wanted him to see that he was pretty great too, no offense."

"None taken," Dean said quietly, taking this in.

"He talked about you non stop, how cool you were, how brave you were, how you always protected him."

"Sully, stop!" Dean blurted out. He didn't mean to be rude to him, but right now, everything was just too confusing.

Gloria walked in at that moment and Dean was grateful because he couldn't bear to hear how wonderful he was right now, not when it was so off the mark. If he hadn't spoken to Sam the way he had, maybe Sam wouldn't have gone to get a drink and would never have been hurt so severely.

"I'm just here to check Sam's vitals," she said, sheepishly, as if she could sense the tension in the room even though she still couldn't see Sully. She approached the bed and jotted some stuff down but Dean could see that Sam's condition was unchanged.

ooooooo

Days passed and Sam remained unconscious. Dean noticed Sully came and went. Sometimes he'd be gone for awhile, then he'd go grab a coffee and find Sully standing by Sam's bed when he returned. He expected he still had duties to fulfill as a zanna, whatever those duties were. Sully had worked up the courage to rest his hand on Sam's, which was now encased in a cast. That was more than Dean could say for himself though, because he hadn't been able to do the same.

Dean had just spoken to the doctor one afternoon, when he walked in to find Sully crying. He apparently didn't hear Dean walk in because he didn't acknowledge his presence. Dean didn't mean to eavesdrop but he stopped to listen.

"I'm really sorry, Sam. This is all my fault. I didn't know it would turn out like this. I never wanted to see you like this," Sully sobbed into Sam's arm. "That's why I didn't want you to be a hunter but I know it's what you were meant to do, save people. That's why you saved those people. You have to wake up. Dean needs you. The world needs you," Sully sniffed.

Dean cleared his throat then, and Sully jumped.

"What do you mean this is your fault?" Dean asked.

"I tried to tell you but then I was afraid to tell you. I had a vision, Dean, of the whole accident."

"A vision? Is that normal for you guys?" Dean asked.

Sully shook his head.

"So you knew Sam was going to be hurt, but you couldn't stop it?" Dean asked, a hint of resentment in his voice.

"No, I...I got it wrong. I don't know. In my vision, it was Sam driving the car, and those people dead on the ground. Then Sam was in handcuffs," Sully winced, waiting for Dean to throw him out.

"So that's why you showed up again? To try to stop Sam from making a mistake?"

Sully nodded.

"It's not your fault," Dean said simply, all animosity gone.

"I should have been able to do something! I'm not a good person, Dean! First Audrey, and now Sam! I hurt people. Sam was right when he took back what he said about heroes not being perfect. All I do is make matters worse."

"You know who you sound like?" Dean asked.

Sully shrugged.

"Sam."

"Sam said I was just as screwed up as he was."

"That's not what I mean, Sully. I mean, you both think you screw everything up, but you don't. No wonder you two got along. Both always thinking you cause more harm than good and both wrong."

"But even Sam agreed with me. He said I was a nuisance."

"That wasn't Sam talking," Dean began. "That was his fear talking," Dean continued, looking at Sam in the bed. He looked so vulnerable, and it was as if Dean was finally seeing everything a lot more clearly. "He's not sure who or what he can rely on anymore, so he's pushing everyone away."

"He said no one cares. He said God doesn't care."

Then everything hit Dean at once. The cage, how Lucifer told Sam that he had been the ones sending the visions, not God. His brother always had faith., even in the darkest of moments. He had faith that God was trying to help him. What did he have to rely on now that he faced his darkest fear, and he'd been left alone with the enemy both literally and figuratively? How could he cope when all he believed in so strongly was taken away?

"Did you have a fight with Sam too?" Sully asked, quietly, interrupting Dean's thoughts.

"How'd you know?"

"Sam told me to tell you he was sorry, right after he was hurt and before he...fell asleep," Sully said, choosing his words carefully.

Again, Dean had to rein in his emotion, realizing that in what Sam thought were his last words, he felt he needed to apologize.

"You mind leaving me alone for a minute with Sam?" Dean asked.

Before he could blink, Sully was gone.

Dean approached Sam's bed. Most of the cuts and scrapes had healed so Sam's face looked less raw. If not for the mechanical rise and fall of his chest, he'd look like he was in a restful sleep. Dean noticed that Sam hadn't looked that peaceful in awhile, usually his forehead crinkled in consternation.

"We need to talk, okay little brother?" Dean said, placing his hand over Sam's, reaching out to him for the first time since he was admitted. "As soon as you wake up, we're going to discuss this, and there won't be any running away from it this time. You kind of can't anyway," Dean smirked, ruefully. "You don't need to tell me you're sorry Sam. I'm sorry," Dean finished, allowing his mask to crumble as a sob wracked his body, all the anxiousness and fear from the last several days finally catching up with him.

oooooo

Sam lay comatose for nearly two weeks even after the ventilator was removed and a nasal cannula replaced it. Dr. Emilio informed him that the longer he stayed under, the more likely it was that Sam would suffer some long term effects. Sam's internal damage was healing. His organs were functioning well despite being displaced in the accident and he wasn't showing any signs of infection. The MRI of his head hadn't shown any significant damage but the doctor warned that even though Sam's brain appeared uninjured, he had indeed struck his head. Also, the fact that Sam was without oxygen and a heartbeat for so long were still a concern.

The doctor had also brought up the fact that Sam's blood alcohol level was high when he was brought in and questioned the reason behind it. Dean had staunchly defended Sam, telling him that it was just a one time occurrence and that he'd been drinking with a buddy who was getting married when the accident occurred.

Dean kept vigil by Sam's side, clutching his hand through the railing, while Sully hung back. Dean could tell that no matter what he had said to encourage him that the guilt was still eating him alive. The arm that was in a cast jerked on the bed, and off the pillow. Dean carefully put it back. He knew not to get his hopes up. Sam's muscles moved involuntarily all the time and the doctor said it happened with comas.

The nurse came in to check Sam's bandage and Dean cringed at the wound on Sam's abdomen even though it was healing well. The surgery had started with a smaller incision but that had gone out the window and turned into a full laparotomy when Sam bottomed out, which meant carving into Sam, more healing time, and more pain for his little brother.

Dean was lost in thought, while Sully stared out the window as she did what she needed to do and left. Dean looked over at the cheerful flower bouquet that had arrived a few days earlier from the Wongs, the family that Sam had saved. There were carnations, roses, and daisies but their splashes of color did little to brighten the dreary hospital room.

The physical therapist arrived soon after and Dean backed off. She came in at least once a day to turn Sam, to move his arms and legs, and make sure he was getting blood flow and that his muscles didn't atrophy. Most of the time, Sam was limp as a ragdoll and didn't respond to the ministrations. Dean watched silently as he saw Sam's eyes flutter. Despite what he knew, he couldn't stop the catch in his breathing. Was this just more involuntary movement or something more?

"Sam?" Joy, the therapist, questioned. "Does that hurt?" She asked him, as she lifted his arm.

Sam scrunched his eyes this time, in response.

She pulled out a penlight and lifted Sam's eyelid, shining the light right into his eye.

Sam flinched away and grunted in response.

"Open your eyes for me, Sam," Joy instructed.

Dean jumped up, just in time to see his brother's eyes open, painstakingly slow, as they tried to focus.

"Can you look over here?" Joy asked.

Sam obediently turned his head in her direction.

"Now can you look at your brother?"

Sam turned his head again, and looked him straight in the eye.

Dean felt relief rain down on him, like parched flowers after a drought.

Dean looked for Sully, to see if he shared in his jubilation. However, he was gone.

ooooo

Dean had to leave the room once Joy called for the doctor. Dean anxiously waited outside, crossing his arms and biting his lip. He knew Sam could follow directions and recognized him, but other than that he wasn't sure. He hadn't spoken at all and he still looked a bit dazed.

"Sam's doing well," Dr. Emilio said, when he exited Sam's room.

"So his brain and everything then, I mean, it's fine," Dean said, realizing he was rambling.

"I don't believe Sam suffered any lasting brain damage, but it's difficult to say because he's still in the process of returning to consciousness. His speech is somewhat clipped and he's a bit foggy on some things. I think pain plays a role in it as well. I've given him some mild pain killers. I don't want to give him anything too strong, that's going to impact his level of consciousness further or impede his breathing. I think with time, he'll recover all of his faculties."

Dean digested this information as best as he could. He wondered what Sam remembered, and for a fleeting moment, he hoped Sam forgot everything from the last few weeks, especially the cage.

Dean walked back to Sam's room and his eyes were again closed, but he opened them as Dean approached the bed. He looked groggy like he was fighting sleep.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, softly. "How you feeling?"

"T...tired," Sam said slowly, with effort.

"Are you in pain?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head.

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Car. S...Sully," Sam managed, before his eyes slid shut as he fell back into sleep.

"Rest," Dean said to Sam's sleeping form, pulling the blanket over him, and adjusting his arm back on the pillow.

Dean looked around for Sully but there was still no sign of him.

oooooo

Sam still slept often even when he was officially out of his coma. However, after a few days, each time he woke up, he was more lucid. When he talked, it was clear he was rapidly regaining his speech, stringing sentences together cohesively. Dr. Emilio was 'pretty positive' as he put it that Sam's brain was fine. Sam hadn't mentioned anything about the cage, their fight, or what happened with Sully though and Dean was hesitant to bring it up. If Sam was focused on his recovery at the moment, Dean didn't want to hinder it in any way.

Dean was surprised one day when the doctors suggested that they get Sam up and walking because to Dean, Sam still seemed far too weak. However, the next day the doctors had Sam standing on his own two feet with assistance, having him walk the corridor. He was a bit off balance at first, especially with the cumbersome cast he sported. It was also obvious he was in a great deal of pain, and Dean could tell when he had enough, even though he wanted to push himself further. He stood near Sam's door with his wheelchair as he gratefully collapsed into it, his hair clinging to his head with perspiration. He coughed slightly and seemed to be breathing heavily.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded.

The doctor had warned that Sam's lung capacity might not be completely back to normal for awhile, with the injury to his diaphragm.

"Burns a bit," Sam said, rubbing his chest, breathlessly.

"Let's get you back to bed," Dean suggested.

He wheeled Sam back into the room, and was about to help Sam get back in bed, but Sam shook his head.

"Your hip," Sam said, simply.

"It's completely fine. Come on Sam. You did enough for today. Let's go."

"It will never be enough," Sam said, quietly.

Dean knew then that Sam's mental scars were surfacing now, like mud beneath the snow. Perhaps they'd taken a backseat with his recovery at the forefront, but now that he was getting better, he couldn't ignore the less visible bruises any longer.

"Dean, when we went on that hunt at that church, you know what I felt?" Sam continued.

"What Sam?"

"Nothing," Sam replied, casting his eyes downward.

"Huh?" Dean asked, genuinely confused.

"That's why you got hurt. I'm sorry."

"Sam, I told you it's fine. No harm done."

"I totally spaced out in there," Sam replied, shaking his head. "Before, whenever I'd go in a church, even for a hunt, or to speak with the priest, I'd always feel this...this peace," Sam began, picking at the cast covering his hand. "But when we were hunting that poltergeist, I didn't feel..." Sam sniffled, his voice trailing off. "I didn't feel how I used to."

Dean could see how teary eyed Sam was, and he hadn't even thought how the hunt might have ultimately impacted Sam, to be confronted with his faith and his potentially new perspective on it. He was ashamed to admit to himself that he didn't even know if Sam still had faith or what he thought about God anymore. Sam's behavior before the accident suddenly made a lot more sense.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, honestly.

"I'm the one who is sorry Dean. I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I'm sorry I lashed out at you. I was an idiot. I was naive to think God would even care about me. It's just that...I don't know."

"What is it?"

"When I first said yes to Lucifer, I knew what I was up against. I knew where I'd be going when I jumped into that pit, but I was at peace with it. I felt despite everything that God forgave me. I thought he was still with me, despite everything I'd done, and even through it all, he still cared. I thought maybe he helped me, maybe he was even...proud of...me," Sam stuttered, as a tear rolled down his cheek. "Then when I was in that cage and Lucifer told me it was him all along sending the visions, I never felt so abandoned, so completely and utterly alone. I just feel like Lucifer will always have the upperhand. I'll never be free."

Sam's shoulder shook now, as he tried and failed, to prevent the tears from falling, but he couldn't.

"Maybe he was lying Sam. You don't know it was him the whole time," Dean replied, placing his hand on Sam's back, trying to give his brother some reassurance.

"Yes I do!" Sam shouted, jerking away from him. "If there's one thing I know is when he's telling the truth. I let myself get tricked again. You must think I'm a fool. You knew the whole time that it wasn't God."

"What do you think I'm going to say I told you so Sam?"

When Dean looked at his brother's expression, he knew that was exactly what he was thinking, and an ache washed over him like he was coming down with the flu.

"I'm the fool, Sam, for not trying to understand your faith in the first place. No one tricked you. You won. You're free, and he's not. You looked that son of a bitch right in the eye and told him no. You were willing to die than let him be free again."

"I just wanted to fix things, with the darkness, but all I did was mess up again," Sam sniffed. "I was deflecting and I pushed you away, and even Sully too."

Dean felt helpless to comfort his brother. He knew he was suffering, but he couldn't provide any proof that God did actually care. His own mind was made up on that matter which was probably why Sam hesitated to talk about his crisis of faith in the first place, but he could tell Sam desperately wanted to believe. All he could do right now was let Sam know that he was there and that wasn't going to change.

"Why don't we get you back into bed?" Dean suggested, helping Sam up. This time he didn't protest, and he could see the exhaustion in Sam's eyes, not just physical but mental as well.

Sam gingerly tried to make himself comfortable, as Dean arranged the blankets.

"You didn't push me away, Sam. I know I was never big on this whole God or faith thing, but I know you're hurting and I'm here. You can talk to me."

Sam just murmured and nodded as he rested his head on the pillows, dried tears still visible on his face, his cast cradled to his chest. Dean knew that Sam was already half asleep. He watched him for awhile and could tell Sam was restless even when he had settled into sleep, attempting to turn over and getting entangled in his IV lines.

Dean reached over to fix them, when he spotted Sully out of the corner of his eye. When he saw Dean had caught sight of him, he bolted.

"Sully!" Dean yelled after him as he rushed out of Sam's hospital room.

Dean chased after him, not knowing where he went once he was out in the corridor. It wasn't like he could ask anyone if they'd seen someone in rainbow suspenders that was technically, kind of, sort of, imaginary. For all he knew, Sully might have vanished into thin air. He spotted him again, as he exited out to the stairs. He followed him.

"Sully! Stop!"

Sully looked frightened but he obeyed.

"It's hard to see Sam that way," Sully said, forlornly.

"Have you been watching him the whole time?"

"Off and on, but I can't let Sam see me."

"What? Didn't you just hear what Sam said?"

Sully shook his head no, meaning that he'd only arrived as Sam was falling asleep.

"I saw him walking in the hall and then he looked so sad, so broken. I did that to him. I wanted to come back one last time when he was asleep just to say goodbye."

"Sam wants to see you. He thinks he pushed you away again."

"Sam doesn't want me there," Sully replied.

"He needs you Sully."

"He has you, Dean. Sam has never needed me."

"Sam needs everyone who cares about him right now. If you ever really gave a damn about Sam, you'll come," Dean said, finally before leaving the hallway and heading back to Sam's room.

He knew he'd placed a pretty big guilt trip at Sully's feet but it was better than Sam feeling guilty over something else and thinking Sully hated him.

oooooo

Sam slept on until the early evening, when he finally woke up, dark smudges casting shadows under his eyes.

Dean heard Sam's hospital room door creak and he half expected a nurse or a doctor but then he saw Sully there, hanging back.

"Sam, you have a visitor," Dean said.

Sam wrinkled his forehead in confusion.

Dean moved out of Sam's line of vision so he could see.

"Sully," Sam said, breathlessly, a tiny smile, tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I'm sorry," both Sully and Sam said in unison.

"Sully, what do you have to be sorry for?" Sam asked. "I'm sorry for what I said to you. Before I was just a dumb kid, but now I just acted like one."

"No, you were right. I messed everything up," Sully replied, approaching Sam's bed. "My vision was wrong."

"It wasn't wrong. That could have been me driving that car. I was going to drive Sully and I would have killed those people. Just thinking about it makes me sick," Sam said, his face growing pale. "I should be thanking you for stopping me."

"But I never wanted you to get broken, Sam," Sully said, still not convinced he'd actually been helpful.

"Truth is, I've been broken a long time," Sam replied, looking at both Sully and Dean. "I guess I'm just not sure what to believe in anymore."

"You can believe in Dean, in me, and...God," Sully hesitated on the last one, as Sam looked away sadly.

Sam shook his head.

"Ever think that maybe God sent me that vision?" Sully said expectantly.

Dean watched from a distance, and for the first time in a long time, he saw hope flicker in Sam's eyes.

"Zanna don't get visions, Sam, so I have no idea where it could have come from. I've been thinking that God wanted me to stop you from making that mistake, because he needs you fighting for him. He needs you to stop the darkness."

"I don't know, Sully," Sam said, picking at the blankets. "You don't know for sure either."

"I have faith, Sam. Do you?"

"I believe in you, Sully, and in Dean," Sam replied, still looking uncertain about his faith in God, or even himself.

"We believe in you too," Dean said, joining in.

Sam smiled then, so faintly, almost imperceptibly, but just enough that Dean could see some small part of Sam's faith restored.

ooooo

Later Sam's dinner cart was rolled in and Sully picked it up and grimaced. He whipped up some trademark marshmallow nachos and Dean was shocked to see Sam actually eating some.

"Anything is better than hospital food," Sam said with a shrug.

Dean didn't look convinced, but didn't want to be left out so he grabbed one as he sat on the edge of Sam's bed.

"You know these aren't that bad," Dean said, after taking a bite.

Sully grinned.

"Ever think your brother's a bad liar, Sam?"

Dean's face contorted and he spit the food out on the bed.

"I'll take my chances with this," Dean said, grabbing the dinner cart.

Sam laughed then, longer than he had in awhile.

As Sam sat there chewing the salty sweet concoction, looking at his brother who cared about him more than anything, and at Sully who cared a great deal about him too, he felt just a tiny bit of healing settle into him, stronger than any medicine the hospital could provide. He felt just a flicker of his faith return to him and the bars on Lucifer's cage bending back just a bit.

The End.

Thanks so much for reading :)