This is a re-post since fanfic decided to chunks out of my document. So this was originally intended to be a one shot. Then I got a lot of feedback from people saying they wished there was more to it. And I got bored at work, so…

Chapter 2

Sam leaned back against the seat letting his eyes drift close and the steady motion and quiet growl of the Impala sooth him into a light doze.

"Uh-uh, no sleeping. Pretty sure you've got yourself a concussion. Plus it'll be easier for you to breathe if you're concentrating." Dean had no idea if this last statement was true, but it sounded pretty good.

Sam's eyes which had popped open when Dean had shaken him awake, both physically and verbally, now drifted shut once more.

"Sammy. Come on. Open those eyes. Sam!" Dean barked when his gentle cajoling didn't work.

Sam startled easily, his breath catching in his throat leading to a coughing spell, bright red staining his fingers as he gasped like a landed fish.

"Sorry little brother," Dean apologized, his voice filled with guilt knowing he had hurt Sam on purpose, but happy his tactic had worked. He extended the Kleenex box that rested on the seat between them as a peace offering. "But you need to stay awake."

Sam grabbed the box and rested it in his lap, pulling out a handful of Kleenex as he did so. "'m 'wake. And 'm fine, Dean," he muttered. The words even more muffled by the Kleenex.

"Sure ya are. Come here," the older Winchester said pulling his little brother closer, so they were sitting much as they had been in the cold mud outside the church, Sam resting against Dean's shoulder.

Attempting to keep himself awake and lucid, Sam hummed along to the Metallica tape his older brother had playing in the background.

"Hey dude, are you humming Metallica?" Dean didn't take his eyes off the road, but as he brushed his fingers through Sam's hair, he felt his brother's nod against his shoulder.

"It calms me down," came the whispered response.

Dean smiled remember when Sam had asked him a similar question, and he had given the same response. He didn't dare say anything else, not wanting to take away his little brother's method of keeping himself coherent. Plus with the added worry of a probable concussion, it was good Sam had found something to focus on besides the pain raging through his body like a wildfire. The older Winchester was actually surprised Sam had kept it together this long. From the intense reaction he had to stopping the trial, Dean had expected him to pass out the minute the car had started. But was extremely thankful he hadn't.

Especially since, apparently Castiel was otherwise occupied. Sometimes Dean wanted to smack the angel silly, in spite of the fact he was a celestial being who could probably vaporize the older Winchester if he wanted to. The angel always seemed to think he was doing the right thing even when logic and past experience told him different.

Choosing not to dwell on his wayward friend, Dean instead turned his attention to his ailing brother. Sam had moved slightly away from his big brother's shoulder and now leaned his head back against the seat. Knowing his little brother, this was most likely an attempt to help his breathing and quell the dizziness from the concussion at the same time.

Though Sam had admitted he was hurting, which in itself was huge hurdle, he would never knowingly ask for help unless he thought he was dying. Even then, he would try to solve his problem alone before thinking of coming to Dean.

"You doing okay there, little brother?"

Sam lay back thinking over how he wanted to answer, but not wanting to take too long because his big brother would get so worried he would pull the car over on the spot and probably call an ambulance. So Sam had to decide what took precedence at the moment his head or his breathing. He barely cracked an eye open to glance at his big brother, and the world spun. Nevertheless, he peered through lidded eyes. "Said 'm fine," Sam continued to take monitored breaths as though he was taking air in through a straw.

Dean knew Sam was lying through his teeth. And that it was in an attempt to make Dean feel better about their current situation.

He could also tell by the way his little brother refused to open his eyes that his head was bothering him almost as much as his lungs. A problem most likely caused by a combination of: dehydration, blood loss, concussion, lack of food and sleep, not to mention Sam's insistence he was fine and hunting until he ran himself into the ground. "No, Sam. You're not fine, and it's about time you admit it!" Dean suddenly burst out, surprising himself and startling his brother.

The brothers had been taught as long as you deny pain: physical, mental, or emotional, it didn't exist. They had been pushing through the three trials just like any other hunt. Follow the directions, gank the monster, save the day. But just because they'd been treating it like any other hunt, didn't make it one. They were trying to close the gates of hell. And Sam stood out like a neon sign flashing everything that could go wrong with the attempt.

Dean could see the evidence the trials on his brother's pale, sunken, sweat-soaked face. Feel it in the way Sam trembled against him and in the heat radiating from the burning body. But the older Winchester hoped this rabid inferno wouldn't trigger any flashbacks to hell.

Just because Castiel had said he fixed everything regarding Sam's melon and its tendency to broadcast hell and Lucifer in high definition, didn't mean it had stayed fixed.

But Dean was bound and determined he would fix this.

It was his job to look out for his pain in the ass little brother. It didn't matter that Sam wasn't a kid anymore and was more than capable of looking out for himself, as he had proven time and time again. Taking care of Sam was part of who Dean was and that wasn't about to change. Getting Sam better was his number one priority. It didn't matter that the world was about to almost end again; Sam came first. "You almost died, Sam. Heck, you still could still be dying for all we know. Cass said you were so damaged he couldn't heal you, and Naomi said the same thing."

"Then what's the point of a hospital?" Sam asked having regained a little bit of his breath listening to Dean, though his head stayed firmly planted partially on the seat and partly on his brother's shoulder. "If the angels can't…no one can. What's the point?" Sam heaved a sigh, exhaustion catching up with him once more. "Why even try?"

"Because I can't lose you again! That's why!" Dean's emotions finally got the better of him. He had been trying to hold it in since their explosive heart to heart at the church. There, he had instigated the ultimate chick flick moment in an effort to convince Sam to stop the trial. If he had to initiate another one to convince his little brother to willingly go to the hospital, so be it. "I've been down this road too many times Sammy. I'm not doing it again. So if getting you hopped up on the good stuff and other drugs buys me some more time to figure out how to get you better, we're going to do it. Because there ain't no me, if there ain't no you," Dean said bringing an end to the conversation, eyes scanning the highway for the familiar H on a blue and white background.