Title: When It Changes

Author: Restive Nature

Genre: Crossover

Type: WiP

Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)

Chapter Rating: PG-13 for language.

Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.

Pairing: Dean/ Max, other canon pairings

Summary: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

A/N: Well... hello! It's been a while for this story. Like eight years long. I know that a lot of people have given up on this story. To be honest, I was tempted to just leave it, but I have put so much time and emotion into this story, that I just can't let it go. Not yet. So here's the next chapter and news that the Chapter Thirty-seven is partially written. Hope those that are still reading enjoy!

When It Changes

Chapter Thirty-six

Taken On Faith

"Hey, pass me Dad's journal," Dean commanded, snapping his fingers to get his brother's attention. He'd only been sitting in this hospital room for a few hours, but already, he was going stir crazy. The momentary distraction that the really cool station hack that they'd seen which as promised had been repeated once; had been the only thing to break up the monotony. Even teasing Sammy hadn't lifted the bite of boredom. For one thing, the kid had too much of a kicked puppy look about him. And Dean was at the point that he couldn't stand it any longer.

When the finger snapping didn't get the results he desired, Dean turned his head away from the programming he'd been vaguely watching. Staring at the small machine had been simply a cover while his mind ran those strange combinations over and over. He was caught between a sigh and a smirk when he realized that Sam was conked out in the hard plastic chair that definitely was not friendly to Sam's height and frame. Debating waking his baby brother up, Dean quickly decided against it. Throwing his blanket back, he shifted his legs, wincing at the pull in his chest. Breathing heavily, he accomplished his goal, falling feet first to the floor as his hand grasped at the lowered metal bar at the side of the gurney bed. He held tightly, his other hand pressed against his sternum as he silently and hastily commanded his body to straighten the hell out. Couldn't afford to ache like this. Not if he wanted to keep his family safe.

Straightening up before he was ready didn't help, but Dean was determined to push through. He knew what the doctor had said, but then, the guy also didn't know the Winchester family. Dean had complete faith that he'd make it through this. Simply because the alternate was unacceptable to contemplate. He literally had no choice. He would keep going until he died. And if he had his choice in time and place, he'd do so protecting his family and taking out as many of the bastards that drew their family into this life, as he could.

Shuffling around the end of the bed and over to where his brother was snoring gently, his head at an awkward angle, Dean pressed his lips together for more than one reason. He reached carefully, his chest still twinging and pulling, sliding their father's opened journal out from under where his brother's palm rested on it. He watched Sam's face tilt and registered a small snort escaping the big lunk's mouth, before Sam was smacking his lips together and turning to try and find a comfortable position. It didn't work and Dean knew he was busted as he turned back to his bed.

"Dean?" Sam asked, his head coming up as he blinked rapidly, trying to wake up more rapidly than he was apparently able to at the moment.

"Calm down Sammy," Dean grunted as he eased along the closer side of the bed. The rail was still up on that side, for whatever reason and he heard the slide of the chair legs on the floor, scraping their deep noise and he rolled his eyes. "Just getting the book. Didn't want to wake you up."

"I can sleep later," Sam grunted as he reached with his long arms, past Dean to manipulate the rail, dropping it suddenly and then having to reach to support Dean's lower back. His elder brother made a motion with his arm as if to push him off and Sam backed off quickly, not wanting Dean to further agitate his injury.

Dean dropped the book to the bed, shoving it to the far side before turning to lift himself back into the crisp white sheets and comforting weight of the blanket. He shut his eyes to not betray the pleasure of the sensation. But some part of his face must have given him away as Sam chuckled deeply.

"Don't know why you had to get out of bed," his brother muttered. "Whatever it was could have waited."

"Maybe," Dean agreed easily as he draped the sheets over himself again and then slapped Sam's hands away when he tried to help. "Water can't though," he grunted and waited as Sam stilled.

"You're thirsty?" he asked stupidly. And then Sam was patting his thigh and moving back to the tiny table he had just vacated, to grab the ewer and a glass.

"That stuff is warm," Dean commented as he picked up the book, not even glancing at his brother.

"Oh, right," Sam nodded and set the glass back down before peering into the jug. "I'll just go get some..."

"From the nurses station," Dean directed, sparing his brother a cheesy grin that had Sam sighing and then returning the look with a tight grin that hid none of his younger brother's agitation over wanting to berate his brother's attitude warring with the desire to make Dean as comfortable as possible. "They said to ask there if one of the volunteer's didn't make it through."

"Oh, okay," Sam agreed and moved towards the door. "I'll be right back. Just..."

"Go Sammy," Dean directed without heat and without glancing at his brother. The door eased closed only after Dean had already flipped through several of his father's older journal entries that had nothing to do with what was currently preying on his mind.

He spent the few minutes that Sam was away from his side, to quickly run his eye over the information that was cobbled together in jumbles and pieces, finding nothing, until he came to the pages that had been added later. His father had finally begun to create some order, not long after Max had come into their lives. The corner of Dean's mouth curved upwards as he recalled a memory of Max, young, earnest, desperate to please John so that she wouldn't be turned out, painstakingly writing out this page for him to fill in information about the various jobs they went on. John had been gruff as he'd looked it over and then had given Max a hug. He had told her he'd need more than the one and she had lit up, totally prepared to write out reams of them.

Dean had groaned and dragged her and the paper off to a local store and introduced her to the delights of a photocopier. And it had been pretty pathetic, he reflected, that she had had no idea what the machines were. She had take them literally, that they were for copying photos. Dean recalled that he had told himself not to be too shocked, since he had no idea about photocopiers either until he had seen a secretary at school use one and figured out for himself what they were for. He had kept his silence as they'd run off copies for his father, paid and gone to grab food from whatever fast food source had been around.

He came back to himself to note when the change was made from hand written to computer generated. She had even proudly shown them to Bobby, who had agreed that they made research easier, though it was still near impossible to decipher Dad's handwriting.

But, he sighed to himself, even as organized as the information was, the phrase 'X5' just wasn't jumping out at him. He continued flipping slowly through the pages, letting his eyes relax and wander over each. The letter and number combination in his mind's eye should be easy enough to see, since it would be quite the slash marks in his father's penmanship. But he was nearly through the entire book by the time Sam returned, his face slightly dark.

"They outta ice chips Sammy?" he noted as Sam set the jug down on the table and then taking some more paper cups out of his jacket pocket.

"No," Sam sighed as he filled a water cup and brought it to his brother's side. Dean took it absently and swallowed a sip of the icy relief. "The nurse told me they need to take you down for some more tests."

"Uh huh," Dean commented without heat and feeling the disgruntled-ness of his brother, grinned deprecatingly as he glanced up. "Come on Sammy. No big. You know that's how they justify the charges they make. Use the big machines to figure out what anyone with common sense already knows."

"Yeah," Sam nodded as he dropped back down into the seat he had been occupying before. "Just..."

"Just what?" Dean wondered without really wondering. He knew very well how quickly Sam could work himself up into a snit. Already acting to nip this one in the bud, he dragged the book up to his face and let out a soft grunt. "Huh?"

"What are you looking for?" Sam demanded quietly, his natural curiosity ensnaring him, just as Dean knew it would.

"That phrase," he answered easily before dropping the book to his lap. He hadn't found it of course, but used the action to get his brother's mind off of whatever the nurse had said to freak him out. "That X five thing."

"You think it's in Dad's book?" Sam asked, his eyes glowing with a mild curiosity.

"Pretty sure, yeah," Dean nodded as he settled the water that he hadn't really wanted on his rolling table. "I remember, I saw it, Dad was doing something with the book. Problem is, I can't remember exactly when or where."

"Oh, okay," Sam nodded as he relaxed minutely. "Do you think it's something that'll help with..." he trailed off and Dean glimpsed from the corner of his eye, his brother making vague gestures towards him.

"Won't know 'til I find it," Dean grouched and turned back to the bound pages. There wasn't any way that he was going to tell his brother that he was looking only out of curiousity, because that would just defeat the purpose of creating the distraction.

Unfortunately, or perhaps not, there was a soft knock at their door and one of the shift nurses poked her head in. "Hey there," she greeted calmly, not with as much perk as some nurses tried to handle their terminal patients with. Dean found that reflecting on that tidbit, he appreciated it more than the upbeat falsehoods the others spread. They all knew why he was there. "Did your brother tell you about your next scheduled scan?" she wondered.

"Yeah, he said somethin' about that," Dean nodded. "Need me in or out of bed?" he asked with ease, throwing the older woman one of his trademark smarmy looks. As expected, she chuckled and shook her head. She was already well aware of his flirtatious behavior. And the rest of the nursing shift had been warned.

"Wheelchair to expedite the process," she declared, pushing the door fully open and dragging the mechanism in with her. She glanced over to Sam to include him in the information. "Routine scan should take half an hour to an hour tops. But don't worry if it runs long. They just like being thorough down there." She glanced over at Dean once Sam had given his nod of understanding. "And sorry buck-o, but no reading material allowed."

"Well there goes that stack of porn Sammy sneaked in for me," Dean chuckled, closing John's journal on his forefinger.

"Well maybe you'll get lucky and the tech boys will be playing something raunchy by what's her face that you can fantasize to," the nurse teased as she moved to assist Dean from the bed. He climbed out of his own accord, still not appreciating the way people hovered over him now, just like at any point in his life. Except for one or two notable exceptions. "But then again, with that ticker of yours, maybe a nap would be better."

"Well Nurse Joanie, I'll just have to take your word for it," Dean chuckled as he settled into the metal rolling chair, lifting his feet to rest on the pedals. He waited for her to get going, but then saw the finger pointing over his shoulder at his lap. He glanced down and then chuckled once more upon reaiizing he still held his father's book. "Sorry. Here Sammy." He handed it off to his brother, who let it fall to the table with a soft clunk. "Not really a pop fan," he smirked. "Give me some AC/DC every time. Maybe they'll switch the station if I put in a request. Dying man's wish, right?"

He was vaguely aware of Sam's grimace and Joanie's polite chuckle as she leaned over to adjust his footrests for him. Dean's eyes grew unfocused as sudden memory swooped through his mind.

"Hang on!" he demanded shortly when it seemed that Nurse Joanie was about to take him away. Sam tensed at Dean's sudden bark and was poised for anything needed of him it seemed. Dean pointed towards the journal and directed his brother, who picked it back up immediately.

"What Dean?" Sam wondered softly, knowing that it couldn't have been too serious, because Dean wouldn't bring up business in front of a civilian.

"Check the back," Dean ordered him and as Sam flipped open the book, nodded to himself. "There's a flap back there. I remember now. I was looking for one of my tapes for my player and thought Dad had it. But it wasn't a tape," he recalled as Sam, finally understanding reached one long finger into the lining of the book once. Catching hold of something, he pulled it loose and they saw of all things, an envelope that had been shoved into a flap that they hadn't given much thought to. Or really realized was there.

Sam pulled it open as Dean made soothing noises to the nurse, promising they'd be just a spiffy second. Sam's eyebrows darted upwards in surprise as he discreetly showed his brother the back of the envelope. On it, in bold slashing print, that definitely was similar to, but not actually their father's handwriting, was a long string of numbers, that incidentally, started with the now familiar X5-.

"Bingo!" Dean smirked triumphantly. Sam was already opening the envelope and peering inside.

"It's a computer disk," he informed his brother. Dean's eyes gleamed as he nodded up at Nurse Joanie, giving her his permission to head on out.

"No time like now to get crackin' on that, eh Sam?" he called back as they headed for the door that the woman quickly propped open. His brother, waving the computer disk back and forth between two fingers, nodded, looking better than he had since they had arrived at the hospital.

"Everything okay?" Joanie asked as she made their way down to where the elevators were located.

"Just fine," Dean declared happily. "Just gave my brother something to do to keep his mind off all this. Oughta keep him busy for a while."

"You are definitely a good big brother, Dean," the woman smiled, standing beside him to press the button, looking down at him with a modicum of admiration on her face. Dean felt only slightly uncomfortable with the praise. If he was such a good big brother, then why the hell were they in this position and why didn't he have a god damn plan in place to take care of the people he cared most about when he was gone?

It was a question that would haunt him for a long time to come.

Max sat in a quiet corner of Logan's penthouse apartment. She was deliriously happy that her brother was alive. Even as he typically rebuffed her attempts to help. She sighed, grateful for a moment alone. She knew that it wasn't Zack's fault that their siblings were in danger now. What hurt was that he hadn't trusted her enough to help keep them safe. Hurt that she wasn't trusted enough to receive his contact information. She smiled sadly. It was almost as if he had grown to maturity under the direction of John Winchester's fevered teachings. But the difference there? At least John left some way of being contacted. Some minuscule hope that he could be found when the chips were down.

Zack was more like the ghosts that she had at one time hunted.

There and gone in the blink of an eye, past unknown, haunting her with things she'd rather not think about. Able to manifest physical damage at the drop of a hat. Reacting to what was happening around him. Around her.

And angry. Above all else, Zack was angry.

She swallowed heavily, her eyes drifting. Difference with Zack, was that he had more reason than most people to thirst for vengeance. But he wasn't about that. He was all about protecting the people he cared for, whether he admitted that he felt that sentimental weakness he despised in her. Or maybe he just despised it because she could admit it and embrace it, where as he had become almost too hard over the years.

She figured almost, she smiled softly, because if he had hardened beyond all reason, then they wouldn't be here and now, looking to protect their family. She glanced down at her lap once again, looking at her phone nestled there. She pursed her lips, trying to decided if she could handle more family drama than what she was immersed in already. She'd shut her phone off while she was rescuing Zack from the ambush that Lydecker had set up. She'd turned it back on once the'd reached minimum safety distance and it had immediately chimed for several missed calls. One of which had been from Sam. She had listened but it was the usual terse message to call him.

It could mean anything. And honestly, Max felt like she was barely treading water at the moment, all this waiting and wondering, plotting and planning was wearing on her. She had the time, and she kept assuring herself that if it were something serious, Sam would have said. She was just lifting the cell phone to call her brother back and make her excuses, when the dam broke and relief took her again.

Tinga had made contact.

"Dean?" the voice, so soft in his ear, tickled, felt good, but he just wasn't ready to wake up yet. "Dean, sweetie?" she, and it was definitely a she, ran one finger over his hand and Dean twitched, feeling as if he were being dragged upwards after swimming underwater just a little too long.

"Mom?" he asked as he blinked himself awake and then lifted his head. The person close to him, mostly a blurry, haze moved closer and he found his vision starting to clear.

"Oh that's nice," she chuckled. "I've been waiting hours for you to wake up and you think I'm your mother."

"Max?" he drew in a sharp breath and felt the tug in his chest region and coughed in automatic response, which drew a groan and a return of the dull pain.

"Oh, careful," Max hissed in sympathy and reached to help him sit up more. "Sam'll kick my ass if he gets back and you're worse off."

"Sam's not here?" Dean wondered and glanced around the motel room that Sam had booked for him. Max leaned forward from her position on the floor and leaned her elbows on the bed, right by his hip.

"He's getting some food and finding another room," she informed him.

"For you," Dean surmised and his head fell back. "Well, sorry you came all this way out, not really good company at the moment."

"Dean," he heard the pain in her voice and he steeled himself not to look at her. "I dropped everything, even outran a cop to get here the moment Sam told me what happened. Did you really think I wouldn't?"

"Yeah, well that's what family's supposed to do, right?" he grunted, grasping at anything that popped into his head. Yeah, it took his dying to get her to give a crap. Maybe he shoulda tried that a while ago

If he were already dead, then he could have avoided the misery of her not being right there at his side. Of having to love her in secret, from afar. That was the kind of pain that he could have done without. The physical damage to his heart was nothing compared to that.

There was silence for a moment and then she spoke again, her fingers toying nervously with the bedspread underneath him. "The room... is for Sam," she informed him.

"Huh, he finally got sick of playing nursemaid," Dean grunted. "Can't say I blame him. I'd get sick of it too. I mean, it's funny when the kid's hungover, but he gets actual sick? Totally grosses me out. All that snot, just..." he affected a mild shudder and noticed from the corner of his eye, her head drop down for a moment.

"Dean, please," she implored softly and Dean's face felt pinched as he tried to stand strong, figuratively speaking of course, since at the moment, he was laying down. He let out a sigh and waited for her to continue. He just couldn't deny her. "The moment... the split second that Sam told me, I knew I had to be here. Not because you're family, not because of... that night, but because..." whatever she wanted to say hung in the air between them. "You need to know the truth."

"I heard the truth," he told her, his voice not harsh, but instead resigned. "Straight from your lips to Dad's ears."

"I know," she winced. "I know that's what I told him, but in the face of how angry he was? And don't tell me that he wasn't. He was broken in a way... I don't know if I can explain what that... how it made me feel Dean, to see him like that. To know that something I had done had caused that."

Dean's head turned sharply to regard her. "He was only like that because he was hurting for us," he stressed, surprised at her reasoning, but he could see it. The Winchester men were more than just a family of males that had picked her up along the road one night, rescuing her from a bad foster situation. His head rolled back to allow him to continue staring up at the ceiling as he admitted, "not because of us. Damn Max, he saw it coming before you or I ever did."

There was a soft chuckle that interested him, incongruous as it was in the moment, that made him lift his head again. "That's not true," she half smirked at him, her eyes luminous and large. "Dean," she sighed once more. "Don't you know that I've been in love with you since... Christ," she laughed suddenly. "Before I even hit puberty, really?"

His eyebrows went up, high enough to feel an uncomfortable stretch around his eyes. "What?" The soft smile returned to her face and he squinted... was this real? "What?" he repeated.

"Dean, I don't regret it," she offered and then bit at her lower lip, "but you have to see, it happened too fast. You and I both know that it was too fast, too much of a... a shock."

His head thunked down on the pillow again. "Yeah," he groaned, bringing his hand up to rub at his forehead. "I know. I guess I always knew. Dad told me I handled it wrong. He even gave me advice and I listened, but I'd already... fucked it up."

"You didn't," Max insisted. "I was scared Dean and honestly out of my depth. Not with you, but with how to handle things. A lot of things, thinking I was a hell of a lot more mature than.. well. You were the only right thing about it all, but I just wasn't ready to cope with everything else that went with it."

"Really?" he asked with interest. "And now that I'm dying?"

"You're not dying," she spoke swift and fierce, raising up to stand over him and even as sore as he was and sick with this cancerous desire for her, he still admired the fire in her. He always had. "I'm not going to let you and neither is Sam. You know better than anyone what little mastermind's we are when we put our heads together. We're going to save you."

"Max," he protested softly, shaking his head. She wet her lips and turned slightly to slip onto the bed, seating herself like one would to comfort the sick, which he was. She reached for his hand, he let her take it.

"Dean, if there's one thing that I've learned, with everything," she shook her head in response to his negative reaction. "You never know the time you're going to get. I've been heading this way in my heart every minute of every day since the second I panicked and ran. I'm just so sorry that I hurt you and didn't have the courage to do it sooner."

"But me, my ticker going kaput did it for ya?" he couldn't help the angry response.

"Of course," she offered sadly. "Dean, we can argue and fight about this. Or, we can decide to table it and instead discuss what we're going to do once you're better. We've got plans to make."

"What are you talkin' about?" he demanded, feeling almost as if butterflies had taken up residence in his stomach.

"Well, there's the question of storing my Ninja, and sleeping arrangements," she announced. "I mean, what did the doctor say? How much activity are you allowed? And laundry, because I'm sorry, you have always been a slacker there. I know Sam will do it just because it annoys him, but I need to wash my delicates a little more often than-!"

"Woah, wait a second here," Dean grumbled. "What they hell are you saying here? You're going with us?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying Dean," she smirked down at him. "Wherever you are, I'll be there. Whether you want me there or not."

"Who says I don't?" he muttered. For a second, just one second, he wished he could take that back, because he had already made himself so vulnerable. But the softness and pleasure in her eyes, her face, was so absolute that he hadn't the heart to take that from her. "You do realize that when I'm this pissed about something I tend to hold a grudge like you wouldn't believe," he warned her. Her grin widened, becoming infectious.

"Yeah, Sammy warned me about that," she nodded. "Although you can be as mad at me as you want. As I recall, it adds a little spice to the bickering."

"And other things," Dean grunted, waggling his eyebrows, his hands, without his realizing, having stolen up to her face once more as she leaned over him. "I am mad, angry, furious beyond belief at myself, at you, the situation that got us into this. But the only reason I am is because I see how it could have been different. I want that difference and you're right, sending you away now would definitely kill any chance of that. But can you," he inhaled deeply, "do you think that you can put up with me long enough to get us there together?"

"I wouldn't necessarily say it's all on one or the other of us," she noted. "There's a lot of things to work through. But if we both want it..."

"Safe to say hell yes to that," Dean grunted softly, urging her closer as his fingertips stroked over her cheeks. "I've sacrificed a lot of things for this life, to keep my family safe, but you're not gonna be one of them. Learned that lesson the hard way."

"Good," Max nodded. "So are we done talking for now?"

"Why,?" It was Dean's turn to smirk. "You got something better to be doing?"

"Damn right I do," she laughed as she finally closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to his and Dean felt the cool wash of relief that her sweet mouth promised. It was better than he remembered. His hands fell away from her cheeks to pull her over him, her leg swinging over his thighs automatically before she groaned. "No, too heavy," she murmured, though she didn't pull away from him completely.

"You let me worry about that," he insisted. She shook her head once more and Dean, pulling at her hips, found a very familiar and instinctively comfortable position. "As long as you stay right there, we'll be just fine."

"Your heart," she sighed out her protest and Dean let go of one hip to reach up and push her hair back from where it swung.

"Nuh uh," he chastised. "None of that. I'll tell you if it's too much. Besides, it actually hurts more when you're not here."

"Really," she beamed at him. "That's the kind of talk that's gonna make me forget completely that you're in a delicate-!"

"Finish that sentence and you aren't going to like the consequences," he warned playfully.

"Promise?" she snarked right back and then ruined her pout by laughing. She leaned forward to touch her forehead to his. "I really do love you Dean."

"I know," he murmured. "No way you would have put up with my shithead ways if you didn't love me somehow."

"And you put up with super primo bitchy me, so..." she hesitated and once again he just had to touch her face, to feel that it was real, that she was there.

"So I've loved you like forever and you're gonna make me say all of it, aren't you?" Dean grumbled a little.

"I'm not going to make you do anything Dean," she smiled widely, her face lighting up again.

"Well I'll tell you anyway," he shrugged. "I love you. I'll always love you and deep down I was scared because I thought I'd screwed up one of the only good things in my life. So bad that I'd never get out of this abyss. I'd rather spend hell in an eternity than not have you in my life, in even the smallest way possible."

She stared at him for just a moment, swallowing heavily and Dean could see how affected she was by his words. Possibly because he wasn't speaking figuratively.

"Now," he sighed, "would you please kiss me again? All of this suspense is too stressful."

"Anything for you baby," she promised as he cradled her closer still. He could not say how many minutes passed before he heard the door slam.

"Ah jeez!" Sam snorted. "So much for hurrying. Did not want to see this!"

There was amusement in his brother's voice, but Dean was right where he wanted to be and Sam would get the hint in another moment or so. Of course, sticking around to watch his brother strip their adopted sister's clothes off would be just the thing to make him abandon ship, or motel room as it were.

"Dean!" Sam snapped harshly, even as Dean continued to ignore him. There was a slight hesitation and then, "I brought your pie."

Didn't need pie anymore, had something much sweeter already cupped in his hands. But Dean was still himself enough to raise one hand and flip his brother off.

"Yeah yeah. Come on! The doctor said you need to eat regularly with this medication you're on." There was a frustrated sigh. "Dean, wake up! Forget whatever little bimbo you're dreaming of... Don't make me honk the horn!"

Well... that wasn't right now, was it? Dean turned away from a very insistent Max and blinked at his brother.

"That's right," Sam was nodding, but he wasn't in a motel room, and neither it seemed, was Dean. "Finally!" Sam snorted as she straightened in the driver's seat and Dean blinked some more and straightened up. "No need to ask what you were dreaming about?" he teased and Dean glanced down. Raging hard on, not a surprise and given... dreaming?

"I was asleep," he muttered dumbly.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "For the last four hours. But you need to eat."

"M'not hungry," Dean protested quietly, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. He glanced out the window on the passenger's side, feeling sick. The kind of sick that no medicine could fix. He turned his head slowly back to his brother, who was organizing the food. "Anyone call while I was out?"

"No," Sam replied easily and then grunted. "Though I'm starting to get worried about Max. You'd think she'd have called me back by now. And Cale hasn't been answering his phone either."

"That's not good news," Dean sighed and accepted a package from his brother. He held it loosely on his lap and stared down at it. "You gonna try her again?"

"I figured tonight," Sam nodded. "Now, please, eat something. Even if it's just the pie. You're due for your next round of pain meds in an hour and you need to have some food in your stomach."

"Yeah," Dean nodded slowly. "Though something to drink would be better. Cotton mouth," he muttered as Sam quickly reached for a paper cup with lid and straw and handed it to his brother. Dean sucked slowly, still trying to acclimate himself to the waking world. Thoughts of Max, the increasing number of dreams that he'd been having of her lately, well, since the run in with the raw-head... last time he'd seen one of them, it had been just the two of them. Back in the days before everything had been royally screwed to hell.

"Do you mind if we eat and drive?" Sam wondered. "We're almost to our next stop."

"Yeah, go," Dean muttered and unwrapped his sandwich, just for something to do. It was much better than listening to his brother complain, or ask questions, or especially, continuing to treat him like a fragile infant as he had over the past few days.

WiC~WiC~WiC

"Man you are a lying bastard!" Dean grunted as he stared at the spectacle before him. Driving all the way to frickin' Nebraska for this! "Thought you said we were going to see a doctor."

Sam refrained from sighing. He knew this was coming and had been very careful about his wording the entire way. He'd have figured that Dean would have noticed, but apparently the pain in his brother's chest was enough of a distraction. "I believe I said a specialist," he defended himself. After all, doctors couldn't do everything and a lot of hem said that there were powers beyond what they could do. And faith figured into a lot of those mysterious powers, hence, "look Dean, this guy's supposed to be the real deal."

"I can't believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent," his brother complained as others headed for the same destination. All of them looking to put off what Sam and Dean faced near daily.

"Reverend LeGrange is a great man," one elderlywoman snorted, defending her snake oil man as Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, that's nice," the eldest Winchester grunted in obvious disbelief. But the old lady was of little consequence when they noticed that there was a cop trying to calm a young man.

"I have a right to protest!" the guy was shouting, gesticulating towards the tent that was erected. "This man is a fraud! And he's milking all these people out of their hard earned money."

Dean almost wanted to applaud, but really, they didn't need the attention of a law man. As the cop defended the transient nature of the flock as a legitimate place of worship and encouraged bystander's to move along, they flowed with the rest of the amblers that were gathering under the billowing material. They continued to argue until another believer interrupted.

A young woman named Layla, pretty enough of course, to catch Dean's eye and he wasted no time introducing himself and his brother. Long standing habit was hard to curb.

"So if you're not a believer, then why are you here?" she wanted to know from Dean.

Refraining from snorting, Dean was able to answer, gesturing to Sam, "well, apparently my brother believes enough for the both of us." Layla smiled at that, but was kept from saying more as another woman approached her.

"Come on Layla, it's about to start," she reminded the younger blond. They offered the Winchester's a smile and then went inside.

Dean's comment as he tilted his head to watch the girl walking away, was cut off by a familiar ring from Sam's phone and Dean's eyes automatically saw through the solid objects as Sam scrambled to answer the phone, muttering about how it was about time that Max answered the several frantic calls that he had made to her, to inform her of their brother's condition.

"Max?" Sam answered tersely and gestured at his brother to go in but Dean gave him a disgusted look.

"Sam? What the hell happened?" she demanded, sounding harried. "How's Dean? How bad is it? Have you called Dad?"

"Oh, now you have time to be concerned?" Sam scoffed, obviously peeved at his little sister for her attitude. He had started leaving her messages days ago.

"Damn it Sam, don't!" she warned in a low tone and Dean was surprised to see that instead of instantly apologizing for snapping at her, Sam's jaw set instead and he could almost see a vein throbbing in his brother's temple. Huh, little brother really did care, it seemed.

"Well what am I supposed to think?" Sam demanded. "I called you days ago! Dean could have been dead by now, for all you knew!" There was silence in his ear for a moment and he would have thought that Max had hung up on him, but for the sound of her ragged breathing.

"Not to sound like a complete bitch here Sam, but he's a grown man," she ground out harshly and Sam drew in a sharp breath. He opened his mouth to protest, but she continued to speak over him. "My sister's life was on the line and we didn't have days or weeks to figure it the hell out! We had hours... hours Sam." He heard the tension underlying those words and deflated instantly.

"Oh my God Max," he murmured, slightly chastened. "Obviously I've missed a few..."

"Tinga," she supplied, her voice still thick. "My sister Tinga. Some old associates of hers found her and she called me for help. Actually, she called Zack, and-!"

"That must have been rough," Sam sighed, knowing the news about Zack.

"Yeah, real rough, because when your first call came in, I was busting my ass to rescue Zack from his dumbassery," she chuckled darkly.

"Zack's alive!" Sam was definitely startled and even Dean straightened up, more interested than he had been before. He didn't need to hear Sam rehashing his condition, though the thoughts that had been in his mind...

He came back to himself to see Sam listening intently and slowly moving towards the opening of the tent of the faith healer, more like money grubbing hoaxer, that they had come to see.

"Uh huh," Sam murmured and then winced. "He was pretty messed up, huh?" Apparently though, Sam had moved too close to the opening, because Dean noted from the corner of his eye, a middle aged woman hurrying towards them.

"Excuse me, young man," the woman called, a smile gracing her face, but not touching her eyes. Sam glanced up, making a face at the interruption, but it quickly disappeared.

"Hang on a second Max," he interrupted. He lowered the phone a little in deference to the woman that had approached them.

"I'm sorry," the woman, dressed a little conservatively, though not surprisingly, given the congregation gathered, gestured towards the phone. "We don't allow cell phones or cameras while the reverend is speaking. It's not what we like, but we're trying to remain on good terms with the town, so I'm sure you can see..."

"Oh of course," Sam nodded. "I understand. Just let me..."

The woman nodded and turned away, moving a few steps off as Sam lifted up the phone once more.

"Trusting souls, aren't they?" Dean half snorted, drawing Sam's eye to the security cameras that were set up inside the tent. Sam raised a single eyebrow, but turned back to his phone call.

"Max? We're at the specialists right now," he informed her. "I can't have the phone back here, so I'm going to have to call you back." He rolled his eyes at Dean's snort at another effort at misleading information from his younger brother. "Yeah, yeah, I will," Sam promised of whatever she had asked him. He didn't bother with any other pleasantries, instead hanging his phone up and tucking it into his coat. He turned to the woman that was waiting. "It's off now," he told her. She nodded and then hurried back to the front of house, as it were.

"Why do I have such a bad feeling about this?" Dean groaned to himself as he gave in to his brother's silent urgings. The path he was walking felt heavy and very much like he was on a short plank, with no clue where the drop was going to be. He only hoped he could tread water when the time came.

And... maybe talk to Max one more time before his time on this earth was done. Yeah, he decided. He'd just hold on to that. After all, the were preaching faith, love and peace and that was where all of his lay.

With her.

WiC~WiC~WiC

Max stared sadly at the phone that she held in her hand. She hadn't meant to get so defensive with Sam. She truly hadn't. But the messages that she had finally had a chance to listen to had scared her badly. Dean was hurt. Dean was in the hospital. Dean wasn't going to make it. The diagnosis that Sam had finally told her of, probably in a bid to get her to see how serious the situation was kept playing over and over in her mind.

Electrical damage to his heart muscles, weakening his entire system to the point where his heart would give out from strain in just a matter of weeks.

She had been scared to call, in a way. Because she didn't know what she would do, or say, what would happen if Sam told her anything beyond what he already had in those voice mails. To say that Dean was...

She forced back another sob that tried to break through.

How could she have chosen though?

She had gotten the call from Zack. He had escaped Manticore and needed her to come get him. She had shut her cell phone off, because she had learned the hard way, that whenever you needed it to least, it would always ring and give your position away. When they had finally made it back to Logan's apartment and she had turned it back on, there were only two messages. Simple, terse directions to call Sam. That was not normal, but it was not unusual at the same time.

She would have called, but knowing that it was imperative that they figure out what information Lydecker had been able to glean from Zack from his time in Manticore, which Zack insisted was nothing, led to trying to put together the information Zack had from before. He had dropped clues in their conversation in the cave, before they knew for sure that Lydecker was listening in and now their siblings, their family was in danger.

She had convinced herself, very easily in the light that her Manticore siblings were in danger, that if it were something bad, Sam would have told her immediately. It never occurred to her until too late that Sam may have been in denial himself. Or that maybe Dean wouldn't let him let on how bad it was.

And then they had received the call from the others checking in and keeping safe. Until Tinga had called. She was one of the two that worried Max the most. The other was Jondy, because Zack had let out the biggest clues about them and their whereabouts. But Jondy was okay. And Tinga wasn't.

But they had gotten their sister and themselves out. When all was said and done, that was the important issue. That was what mattered at the end of the day. She had repaid her debt to Zack when he had offered himself up to Lydecker in her place, over the matter of Vogelsang's death. Of course, that didn't change how she felt about that and about him. She would always owe him in more ways than one. And she would never be able to fully explain those convoluted ties and reasonings. She was quite sure that Sam and Dean would understand that, because their relationship was amazingly co-dependent as it stood now.

So when she had finally relaxed enough to check in on her messages, the alarm that had been mild grew in leaps and bounds as the desperation in Sam's voice grew, as did the detailed messages.

But finally she forced herself to call him back, to hear... to know...

And the relief that Dean was still with them... still alive, it was cut short by Sam's anger and a kind of anger from her. But it wasn't really anger, but the guilt that was making her lash out. Harsh, but they'd get through it.

As she waited fro him to call her back, she ran Dean's situation through her mind. Electrical shock to the heart. How had that happened? Several scenarios jumped to mind. Mostly Dean and his gadgets? Had he been fooling around with something? Or the more likely answer, that he had been on a hunt when it happened. Things could get out of control quickly with just one small false step.

But it was done. There was nothing they could do to change that. One couldn't go back in time to avert the disaster, so they had to deal with the here and now. Sam had said that they were seeing a specialist. Max chewed at her lower lip. She knew enough about medicine and anatomy that if they were measuring Dean's remaining life in weeks, then nothing short of a transplant would save him. Was that what this consultation was about?

Could Dean even hold out long enough to have a match found? There were so many details that laypeople were not aware of that went into finding an organ match. Even so, he'd have to be hooked up to machines, kept alive, if his heart could stand it and would Dean want that? Her instinctive gut reaction was to say no. Dean would want to go down in a blaze of glory, helping someone, anyone, but more, beating the hell out of the bad guys, as if to say one last time, his life, his choice to follow his father in this lifestyle, that it was valid and it was worthwhile.

That he meant something.

The hours grew long, shadows lengthening across the floor as she waited for the next phone call. The worry and the wonder cycling through her mind. Plans were made and discarded. Thoughts, so many thoughts.

But there was one that was prevalent in her mind. There was no question to it, no hesitation in it. As soon as she knew where they were, she was heading that way. There was no way that she could just let Dean go. She had run, after ruining him, his family, everything. She wouldn't run from this, as painful as it was. As devastating, she couldn't not be there with him at the end. It might mean nothing to him, after all this time. But it was everything for her. She'd never truly been able to say goodbye to him and she wouldn't now. But she would love him, even if it had to be silent. She would not let anything deter her in that.

She was never certain if it was anger or relief that kept Sam from calling her back. Or cowardice on her part that she didn't just call him. But eventually Original Cindy passed along a message that Sam had left. The latest doctor's report was back. It was just some crazy mix up and Dean was perfectly healthy. Code speak since Cindy didn't know about the supernatural, any more than she knew that Max was a transgenic being, even if the young woman had tried to tell her about herself on at least one deliberate occasion.

She had no idea how Sam and Dean had managed to get Dean healed of the damage. She suspected that someone might have made a deal with the devil, but dismissed that thought. The boys were willing to die for one another, but spending an eternity in hell? That wasn't going to happen. And so she had accepted Sam's distance for whatever it might be. Her words, spoken in fear and anger had not been fair and he was entitled to feel what he wanted to feel.

The fear eventually faded and she considered it just another in a long line of close calls that they had all had.

WiC~WiC~WiC

"Dude, seriously," Dean snorted as he sat in the driver's seat of the Impala. He had to refrain from rubbing at his chest. He had noticed that every time he worried at that lingering ache, not because of the damn incident with the Reaper and cause of having to be there in the first place, but for another reason entirely, Sam got overprotective. He had this worrisome mother hen vibe like no other and it was starting to drive Dean a little nuts.

"I thought you needed gas," Sam tried to divert. It was true, but there were no other cars waiting in line or anything, so they could take a moment to address Sam's latest bitchfest.

"And I'll get it," Dean pointed out calmly. "In a minute. You gonna call her?" They both knew to whom he was referring, especially given Sam's immediate sigh and averting of his face.

"I did call," Sam tried to excuse himself. "She wasn't home."

"And yet that's never deterred you before," Dean snorted. "The two of you," he began and as expected, Sam made protesting noises.

"Don't start Dean," Sam snapped. "Just..."

Dean wondered if his brother was going to finally let loose and get those damn worries and emotions out. He knew it was coming. With Sam it was as inevitable as that first tiny snowflake that would touch off an avalanche. Kind of the way his brother was. Rolling easily with things until they became too much. Of course, if he'd just let loose a little more often, those bottleneck situations wouldn't be as often. Kid was just too wired up.

"I get that she was busy, that her family needed her help," Sam finally burst out and Dean started a little agitatedly. How long was this rant gonna take. It was hard to gage at the moment. "And really, calling her again just to rehash what I already told her? Do you really want to hear about how great her life is going now? I mean, it's great that it's going great. But Jesus Dean, I almost had to tell her that you were dead. I don't want to have to make that call. Ever!"

"That's what this is about?" Dean sneered slightly. He leaned his head against the headrest of the driver's seat. "You what? Getting tired of this life again, already?"

"No!" Sam protested immediately. "Dean I'm not... this isn't..."

"Spit it out Sam," Dean pushed, his voice quiet. He felt more than heard Sam twisting himself around to address his brother.

"Is it really fair?" Sam spoke softly. "To her? To us, to keep involving her, even if it's just a phone call now and then?"

"No it's not fair," Dean answered immediately. It wasn't anything that he hadn't thought of before. He turned his head tiredly. "But she's family dude. Maybe not by blood, but-!"

"That's just it Dean," Sam shook his head, his features pained. "She shouldn't be in this, family or not. Jess-!" he choked only slightly on his deceased girlfriend's name. "Jess wasn't and shouldn't have been involved, but she was because she was with me. Isn't it time that we backed off, kept Max safe. The stakes are too high Dean. It would kill me to lose you or Dad. And you've chosen this. She's chosen a different life and I think we need to leave her to it." Having said his piece, he turned to stare back out the window, leaving his brother with extremely heavy thoughts as he finally climbed out of the car, to fuel it up, the pain in his chest getting heavier by the moment.

What would be better, living on the fringe of her life and knowing that she was happy, or cutting himself off from her completely, not knowing if she was happy, but knowing that she would live a good long life. There were no guarantees for that, if half of the crap, or suspected trouble she got into was present in her life. A compromise was what was needed, he knew. Now, he just had to figure out who and what it was going to be.

Heavy thoughts followed by heavy days. Darker and deeper in. That seemed to be the way their lives were going. The only direction they could follow.

WiC~WiC~WiC

"Boy still ain't called?' Cindy asked as she came through the apartment door and through to the living room. She had taken one look at Max sitting on the end of the sofa staring at the telephone glumly and instantly knew what the problem was.

"No," Max sighed. "Not that I expected him to. I mean, Dean's okay, so..."

"Yeah, but you two was talkin' all the time," Cindy pointed out as she settled her messenger bag near the door of the room she had taken over from Kendra when the girl had moved in with her cop boy toy. "What changed?"

"I..." Max was at a slight loss for words. While she had told her friend the truth about herself, she had protected the Winchester's. Yes, she had outed one family, but that was science. Albeit weird science. Max wasn't sure that Cindy was ready for the super of the natural world. "I blew them off when I was rescuing Zack and again when we went after Tinga." She didn't precisely tell her friend everything, but she knew the generalities of what she had been doing. And had done in the past when it came to certain members of a certain family.

"But you said Sam understood," Cindy pointed out as she curled up beside her friend.

"Yeah, but when I finally got that message about Dean, we.. had a fight," Max sighed.

"That's family," Cindy pointed out equanimically. "It's normal. You an' Sam not talkin'? That ain't normal."

"It might be for a while," Max smiled sadly. "Sam is just like Dad. They hold a grudge like you wouldn't believe."

"A'iight," Cindy nodded. "I believe dat." She chewed at the inside of her lower lip for a moment and then lunged forward, reaching over her friend to grab up the phone.

"Cindy!" Max protested immediately. "What are you doing?"

"Takin' care of my gurl," Cindy chuckled. The number for Sam was on speed dial and Cindy knew it. She also knew that Max wouldn't use her superior skills and strength against her less than, one hundred percent human friend. The phone was ringing and as she suspected he might, Sam didn't answer. When it went to voice mail, she let out a very large, grumpy noise. "Sam? Original Cindy here. Ya need to call me. Now!" And then hung up the phone.

"He's not gonna be happy," Max pointed out as she reached for the phone. But Cindy shook her head. She'd deal with this. But she gestured to her friend with the phone.

"Maybe," she allowed. "But ya'll will know how receptive the boy is to forgivin' and forgettin' by how quick he call back."

"Well, he might be busy," Max grimaced. Cindy shrugged, just as the phone rang. With a pleased smirk, Cindy depressed the talk button and lifted it to her ear.

"Yeah?" She listened for a moment and tilted her head, pleased as she winked at her best friend. "Ya got my message Sam. Good. Now here's the rest of it. I don't care you be pissed at my girl. O.C. gettin' sick of listening to her cryin' at night because you being a typical boy who don't know that he's treatin' one of the best things in his life like shit!"

"Cindy!" Max's eyes widened, but the dark skinned woman simply gained that slightly mulish look when she was in the right and the world could go screw itself. Of course, part of Max's protest might have come from the fact that she wasn't crying over missing Sam... precisely. Her friend held up her hand to silence the transgenic.

"Nuh uh! Don't try that wit' me boy," she warned harshly. "Now, you gonna talk to my girl and hear her out? That's all I'm askin'." She nodded and then held the phone out to Max. "It's Sam," she announced perkily as Max shook her head, a little shell shocked that Cindy's direct approach well... worked.

"Hey... Sam," she greeted uneasily after Cindy had climbed to her feet to make her way to her room, giving Max some much needed privacy.

"Max," was the response she got, and she could have sworn that Sam was feeling sort of like she was. They were silent, trying to think of how to start the conversation. It wasn't easy and just as Max was about to ask how Dean was doing, Sam went on. "So, living with Cindy now. How is it working out? Aside from her acting like your own personal bulldog?"

"Hey," Max protested with a soft chuckle. Cindy kind of was like that. "She means well."

"I know," Sam sighed. "It's just... oh, I suppose it was for the best," he groaned. "I've been told that I don't particularly play nice when I'm pissed off."

"Oh, I already knew that," Max retorted. "Cindy and I were sort of discussing that fact just a few minutes ago. Not the pissy part, but the grudge factor."

"It wasn't a grudge," Sam protested.

"Oh, it so was," Max snorted. "But totally understandable, given the circumstances."

"Okay wait," Sam grunted. "Are we... what? Starting a fight again or saying sorry."

"Uh, feels a little like both, doesn't it?" Max chuckled. She sighed once more. "I am sorry though. What can I say? I was scared for both my families here and I took it out on the one that was closest."

"It happens, believe me, I know," Sam agreed. "I'm sorry too Max. I wasn't really looking at the big picture. Not with Dean..."

"How is he doing anyway?" Max wanted to know. "I mean, you never even said what the specialist did. Is this just a stop gap thing, do we still need to worry?"

"No, no worries," Sam muttered and to Max, he sounded even more upset. She was curious, of course, but she could let him get it out in his own time. "You should know he's a little pissed at me for what I did?"

"What did you do?" Max wondered. "It wasn't some illegal, controversial procedure, was it?" she teased.

"Not necessarily illegal," Sam chuckled morosely. "But not Dean's idea of fair."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Max asked helplessly. Had Sam taken him to some quack in a back alley. Her gut twisted as the fears started to writhe in her abdomen.

Sam let out a huge sigh. "I took him to a faith healer, okay?"

There was a moment of shock and then Max let out a laugh. "You-? Oh my God, I'm surprised Dean didn't try to beat your ass right then and there. A faith healer? And it worked?"

"It wasn't just a faith healer," Sam admitted. "At least, not that we knew about until afterwards."

"What was it then?" Max wondered, a mix of relief that Dean was okay and worry that it was something worse that he might be indebted to.

"A Reaper," was Sam's succinct reply and Max sucked in a hurried, disbelieving breath. "And save the lecture. I had no clue. No one did other than the people that Reverend LeGrange was healing. But they all wrote it off to it being an angel or something."

"But Dean knew better," she surmised. "How... why would a reaper be healing people? I didn't know they could."

"It wasn't," Sam admitted. "Roy's wife had one under her control. She was handpicking her victims. For every righteous person that Roy chose to 'heal', she had another wicked soul for the reaper to go after instead."

"Oh no," Max sighed, her eyes drifting shut as her forehead dropped into her free hand. "So someone else died in Dean's stead? He's really gotta be beating himself up about that."

"Yeah, he is," Sam agreed. "but we did end it. I don't know if Dean felt worse because he got healed over other people that might have deserved it more, or... I don't know."

"It was wrong," Max noted. "No matter what way you look at it. It's not for humans to decided who lives or dies that way. That's pretty clear Sam. It's murder, no matter how it was happening or how the person, this wife was justifying it."

"That's pretty much what Dean said," Sam told her with a small laugh. She smiled and lifted her head up to lean it back on the softness of the sofa.

"Well, I'd tell you to not beat yourself up about it, but that's already a lost cause, isn't it?" she teased.

"You know us well," Sam sighed. "But I want to know, what happened with Zack? How did he survive a plane crash?"

"Oh that I don't know," Max admitted honestly. Because if her suspicions were correct, it had been staged specifically so the other X-5's that might have been in the area wouldn't come looking. "Suffice to say that he did and when I got to him, he was still really beat up. Paranoid as hell, because his memory was affected. That's why he didn't call me right away. He didn't remember who exactly I was for the longest time."

"That's amazing," Sam sounded awed and somewhat bemused at the time. "Though you're pretty unforgettable there Max."

"I know, I'm awesome," she grinned, pulling her legs up to tuck under her body as she settled in.

"There's not much to tell about it though," she explained. "I went to go get him, but as I said, he was being paranoid that some local guys were out to get him, so I had to calm that situation down. That's when you called. We headed back to Seattle and like I had thought, he knew where everyone else was."

"Everyone...?" Sam repeated, his voice hesitant.

"Yeah, the whole family," Max sighed. "Unfortunately, he couldn't remember. That crash really screwed with his head Sam, plus being out in the element's for God knows how long before he actually got help. He's having trouble with his memory. I guess once he called me and figured out when I got there that I wasn't a figment, he started to trust the little pieces he could recall and it started coming back a little more quickly."

"Well that's good," Sam uttered. "But kind of sucks that he was holding out, or did he not know this before?"

"Hard to say," Max grunted. "Zack always had a good poker face, like some other brother's I could name," she teased, trying to keep it light. "Anyway, he finally remembered how he got in touch with them and when we checked, there was that message from Tinga. You would not believe, ugh!" she groaned, rapidly thinking up an explanation of who would be after Tinga and why they'd have to rescue her.

"What?" Sam demanded.

"She was in a gang," Max offered slowly. "When she was a teenager. I guess when Zack found her, he helped her get legit, leave it behind. She's been clean for several years. But they weren't so willing to let her go. They said she stole money from them. They were lookin' for revenge."

"Ouch," Sam hissed. "So... a gang? Wow."

"I know," Max tried to keep from wincing. It kind of sounded lame to her ears, but Sam seemed to accept it. "That's kind of why it was... why I was so..." She sighed. "I really didn't want to lose my sister before I had the chance to reconnect."

"Did you get much chance?" he wondered.

"A little," Max mourned, "not much. She just wanted the hell out of there. Couldn't go to the cops because she was afraid of retaliation for that. I guess Zack was gonna get her settled and then see what could be done about getting this resolved."

"I don't know Max," Sam teased. "Not all gangster's are as smart as you've made them out to be. A lot of them aren't afraid of the cops or the system."

"Yeah, he might also be trying to come up with enough money to satisfy their thirst for vengeance," she offered.

"Except that's something that's never fed to anyone's satisfaction," Sam offered softly, but with a heavy voice.

"I know," Max muttered. "God, this line of thought is depressing. Oh hey, want to hear some good news?"

"Of course," Sam agreed quickly.

"Okay, remember how I had to take off for a while there?" she prompted and got his murmur of agreement. "Okay, so I came back and Logan had to have emergency surgery."

"He did?" Sam's tone was worried now. "What happened?"

"Some of the bullet fragments shifted closer to his spine, causing some internal bleeding," Max explained.

"How on earth is that good?" Sam cried out, definitely surprised.

"That wasn't," Max agreed. "Anyway's, he went back under the knife and they managed to shift the fragment's away from his spinal column enough to keep it from killing him. But here's the awesome part, about a week after he got out of the hospital, he started getting sensation back."

"What?" Sam sounded completely gobsmacked by that. And Max giggled. It wasn't the whole story, true, but it was still pretty amazing.

"Yep," she confirmed. "The doctor didn't believe him when he went in to have his check up. But he insisted and they did a scan and found that the bullet fragment's had shifted enough to relieve enough pressure that he's been able to recover sensation and has limited mobility now."

"Oh my God," Sam breathed out. "That is amazing. Oh wow Max. Logan must be... freaking over the moon!"

"Oh, he is," she agreed. "The whole reason that for the impairment was that the fragment's were too close to the spinal column and the original team of surgeons couldn't take them out without causing even worse damage. I guess this second emergency surgery got them on the path away and Logan's body is just keeping it up. Maybe if they shift far enough away, the doctor can go in and get them all the way out."

"Sounds kind of risky," Sam muttered.

"Probably," she agreed. "I know the docs are very hesitant to play around here. But Logan's pretty determined. I was thinking of getting him tickets to the Laker's exhibition game that's coming up, to celebrate. He loves basketball."

"That'd be a really nice thing," Sam chuckled. "So how's work going?"

"Oh, we had some shake ups," she giggled. "You remember Herbal, right?"

"Definitely," Sam agreed, his voice sounding lighter. "He didn't get fired again, did he?"

"Oh no, not that," Max shook her head. "Apparently his girl decided that no one could understand him."

"What's to understand?" Sam chuckled. "One peace, one love, we're all instruments of the most high, right?" he recalled.

"Yup," Max nodded. "But she had his head spun about it. Cindy was having the same problem too."

"No one understood her?" Sam sounded confused.

"No, no," Max smiled. "No, when Herbal was trying to explain why he sounded like a white accountant with a stick up his ass, Cindy got a call to start a new job."

"Cindy's not at Jam Pony anymore?" Sam asked quickly.

"Oh she's back," Max smirked. "See that was the problem, it was a telemarketing job. And she had to read off this script."

"Ugh," Sam groaned. "I hate telemarketers. I mean, I know they're just doing their job and all, but..."

"No one likes them Sam, except the desperate and lonely," she pointed out. "Anyway, it was better money. But she was working off commission, so she played along. God, Sketchy and I had a hard time getting them to see that they weren't being true to themselves and that's why everything was in the crapper."

"I guess," he retorted softly. "Though maybe they thought that if they blended in a little more things would be easier."

"They thought that, but it wasn't," Max pointed out as gently as she could, realizing now that it sounded like she was criticizing Sam's desire to leave his family to get a taste of the normal. Which so wasn't what she meant to do. "I'm sorry Sam," she sighed. "I was just tryin' to lighten the mood. I should have just recorded Herbal so that you could hear how funny he sounded. Oh, I know!"

"Know what?" he wondered.

"Did I tell you about that whole Sivapathasundaram dealio?"

"The Siva- what?" he grunted.

"Oh, this is good," she chuckled hard before blurting out, "you should get Dean." She paused for a moment, realizing that it was too late to take back. "'Cause if I'm gonna tell you this, he'll wanna hear it too."

"Okay, yeah, I can do that, hang on," Sam muttered. She heard the phone obviously being covered and a muffled conversation going on. And then Sam was back. "Okay, he's here. Go ahead."

"Hey Max," she heard his voice, clear as day and instantly, the butterflies started up in her tummy, dancing a mambo like there was no tomorrow. She wanted to respond, but her mouth felt instantly dry, like the Sahara. She glanced around, but there was no water or juice or anything. Feeling foolish, she coughed. "You okay?" her brother, Dean asked immediately.

"Yeah," she gasped, "just swallowed wrong. Hang on. Need water."

The boys both chuckled as Max launched herself off of the couch to the kitchen with her glass. She quickly filled it up from the tap and swallowed a few hasty gulps. "Sorry," she gasped and then took a deep breath. "Okay, take two. Hey Dean," she greeted, hoping that the shakiness in her voice didn't translate across the phone. Her lower lip quivered as she announced, "glad to hear you're doing better."

"Better, but not happy about it," Dean admitted softly. And then there was a noise and some grunts.

"Quit fighting you two," she admonished, as the nervousness lifted a little. This was what she was used to. Something that a very large part of her missed desperately. The only thing larger was... "Sam, don't punch your brother."

"I didn't!" Sam protested automatically.

"Yeah, 'cause he kicked me," Dean snarked. And then hissed, "she knows!"

"Knows what?" Max wondered, the corner of her mouth lifting up slightly.

"What I meant," Dean declared.

"That you're not happy about being better, not because you're going to live, but because of the manner in which your life was bought and paid for in that an innocent person died in your place?" she offered tightly. There was a moment of silence on the other end.

"Yeah, that about sums it up," Dean agreed and then said, "see?" She smiled a little more, just imagining the shoving match going on between them. They could both be such boys at times.

"It's not a sacrifice I'd be happy with either," she murmured. "But I think it's okay if Sam and I are happy that you're still with us Dean." She paused, chewing her lip for a moment and then admitted. "I gotta say, when I got that first message, I was ready to pack up and head your way."

"You were?" Dean asked, his voice as soft as hers.

"Of course," she murmured. "You guys are family and no way in hell am I gonna let something this huge happen without doing everything possible..." she trailed off, the emotion, the fear for Dean's life weighing heavily on her. "You're family," she repeated.

"Aw, we love you too Maxie," Sam chuckled.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, though his voice sounded rough. It pained Max to hear it. She could tell obviously, that he wanted off the topic, so she cleared her throat once more and carrying her water with her, returned to the sofa.

"So as I was telling Sammy, a little story to amuse and entertain," she offered leadingly and heard Dean clearing his throat too. It was amazing that still after all these years, she could tell them apart so simply, their noises, mannerisms, the way they spoke, to know what was bothering them. It wasn't just her Manticore given abilities, but the truth that she had spoken a moment ago. They were family. Much more, in a way, than her other siblings.

"About Herbal and this Siva-pah..." Sam stalled out on the name again and Max figured she must have spoken it too quickly the first time.

"Siva-patha-soon-duh-ram," she enunciated for them. "And not just Herbal, but the entire gang," she chuckled. And then her smile faded a little. "This was back when I took a few days of to help Brin. So I wasn't there, but I got the entire low down."

"Okay, what was so funny about this guy?" Sam prompted.

"All right, it all starts wth Normal," she began and smirked. "And his great American dream. We started to get a little worried because he was starting to institute some changes."

"Like what?" Dean wondered.

"Ugh, uniforms, policies, the works," Max told them. "We weren't too worried because this was not the kind of thing that he had the cash for. We didn't start to worry until he found out that he had a buyer looking to invest in the business."

"Uh oh," Sam laughed. "This Mr. Sivapathasundaram?"

"Yep," Max laughed as Sam rushed the pronounciation of the name, but he did get it right. "So I was gone, but the gang all got their heads together to deal with this interloper."

"Oh, this sounds like it's gonna be good," Dean chuckled and she could almost see him rubbing his hands together.

"Well, the first thing they did was appear to fall in line with everything," she explained and heard Dean grunt. "Don't criticize," she warned quickly. "They're amateurs here."

"All right, all right," Dean groaned.

"Now, they fell in line," she continued. "And became polite, respectful employees. And yes, it did put Normal's radar up, but he couldn't figure the angle. He even made Herbal employee of the week. Again!"

"Oh that must have burned," Sam grunted.

"Yeah, so anyways," Max giggled, "they had to get Normal out of the way if they were gonna do this. So Herbal made Normal some of his special Jamaican Blue Mountain roast blend."

"They drugged him?" was Sam's shocked response.

"No, no," Max shook her head, even though she knew that they couldn't see it.

"Spiked it with ex-Lax!" Dean crowed and Max giggled again. God, he sounded... "A classic," he added.

"Exactly," Max agreed. "With enough to keep his bowels in a twist for twenty-four hours, exactly the day that Sivapathasundaram was to be there. So, Cindy took over, which made sense, since she has the most experience fielding calls."

"She does?" Sam seemed to gape at that.

"No, but it sounded good, didn't it?" she teased. "Anyway, the guy gets there and the staff is all friendly and polite and pointing out all their awesome qualities and then... power nipple!"

"Oh God!" Sam gasped out. "They took him on the... Oh no!" and then he was laughing helplessly.

"The what?" Dean sounded amused and frustrated. "Did you seriously say... what the hell?"

"No, no, no," Sam was laughing, almost uncontrollably. "Oh no, seriously," he gasped. "Tell me they didn't?"

"No, they didn't," she agreed. "But ha, now you have to tell Dean that story."

"Oh no," Sam grunted out. "Seriously, not gonna happen, you little rat. You swore you wouldn't."

"I'm not," she laughed. "But you know he'll bug you to death about it."

"If there was ever a night," Sam began and then paused. "Well no, that's not true. I mean, I had fun, but your friends..."

"Dude!" Dean protested. "Power nipple! What in the hell?"

"I'll... try and explain later," was all Sam would give him and Max chuckled as she heard the shoving and grunts again. "Okay, back to the story," Sam finally prompted.

"Okay," she relented. "The story. So, Sketch is the one giving Sivapathasundaram the lowdown on the operation. And you know what an idiot he is Sam.

"Without question," Sam agreed.

"So he's going on at length," she continued, "about all the different kinds of packages that we're licensed to handle."

"Oh why does that not sound good," Sam groaned.

"Because the moron was actually telling the guy that we handled medical transports," she laughed.

"Medical...?" Dean prompted. "Like organ transplants? On bikes? Seriously?"

"Yeah, Herbal told me that Sketch tried to tell this guy that he himself handled delivering a human brain for transplant," Max giggled. "As well as being able to handle live viral and bacterial agents."

"Which was obviously a set up," Sam's mind seemed to be racing ahed.

"Exactly," she agreed. "So at some point when they're showing him around, Cindy hands off a package going to Consolidated Bacterial research center, which, no such freakin' place in Seattle, right?"

"And they foul it up?" Dean concluded with a laugh.

"Oh yeah," she agreed with a low tone. "Herbal rides in, knocks em down and Cindy told me she wished I had seen the shade of blue that's pourin' from this box, 'cause it's the color she wants to paint her bedroom. Anyway, the guys are all spewin' green foam at the mouth, fallin' down on the floors, convulsin' like a dog that's been poisoned and Sketch herds this Indian guy to the back office and barricades them in."

"Oh, jeez," Sam chuckled. "Being locked in a room with Sketchy. There's a nightmare. I'd almost take those bugs over that. Almost!"

"Yeah, so he's painting a picture of rescue and hanging tight," she explained. "Until Herbal gets out the bullhorn after a while." She chuckled again. "Announces that he's with the police force and that the CDC is on site, quarantining the building and has declared that anyone attempting to leave the building will be shot on sight."

"Oh for-!" Sam bit off. "And this guy believed that?"

"Well, we are just ignorant American's up here, right?" Max pointed out. "and Sketch was back there actin' like an idiot. Can't have helped the guy's opinion."

"So how did they get rid of him?" Dean wondered.

"Turns out after Sketch worked the guy up about dying young and all the things he'd never accomplish, he then found a "secret" way out," she explained pointedly. "They made it to the parking garage across the street and just as Sketch was about to get in the car with the guy, the foam pill he took explodes out his mouth and Sivapathasundaram hightailed his ass right back to India!"

"Awesome," Dean laughed. "That's pretty good. For amateurs," he allowed.

"Yeah, I knew you'd get a kick out of that," Max agreed, feeling lighter. Happier. She wasn't with him right now, even though every piece of her was yearning to be. But maybe, for now, this could be enough?