A/N: I want to give a HUGE thank you to everyone who took up the call and reviewed last chapter. I was honestly blown away and couldn't stop smiling. It meant the world to me. I have to respond to reviews still so if you haven't heard from me, you will soon. I am a tad worried about this chapter because I am concerned that it might be confusing with the intertwining stories. Please let me know what you think. I also hope Elena likes the conclusion to the story and the special shoutout to her too :)

He frantically placed Sam back on the couch, tipping his head back. However, Sam's mouth was clenched shut.

"Come on Sammy!" Dean yelled as he tried to pry it open. Sam looked like he was holding his breath.

"Sammy, please. Come on!" He yelled. He needed Sam to breathe but he had gone completely lax now, his body slack and limp. He knew this was no longer a potential panic attack but an emergency situation and he began rescue breathing for his brother, squeezing his nose shut and watching Sam's chest rise and fall as he gave him air.

Dean was frantic but then suddenly Sam was taking in air, sucking it in greedily as if he had just been under water.

Dean just sat there placing his head on his brother's chest as it rose and fell. The amount of wheezing was disconcerting but again he didn't care. This time though, he let himself fall apart. He choked back a sob of his own over the seemingly insurmountable odds stacked against them both. How in the hell was he going to get help for Sam?

ooooo

Sam found himself being helped up, the snow wiped from his face.

Ruth was still on the ground, her blood soaking into the snow and the mask of death on her face.

"You with us man? You scared me. You were having some kind of panic attack."

The couple were huddled together, the girl sobbing into the guy's jacket. Emmett and Mariah. He vaguely remembered their names but not much about how they knew each other. The one telling him that he'd scared him was Will. He remembered that too. He still didn't know the spectre's name or see him anywhere around him, however.

Then they were moving, through heavy snow cover, blizzard conditions all around them.

"I'm too tired!" Mariah whined as she tripped through the drifts.

Emmett helped her up and let her lean heavily on him.

"It's this way!" Sam found himself saying, but his voice sounded foreign and unlike his own. "It's not that far. We just have to keep walking." Somehow he knew that he was wrong though, that if they went this way they wouldn't make it. Yet he couldn't bring himself to form the words, as if everything had been set in motion. They were doomed and no one was going to stop it. Why couldn't he stop it? Was he that cruel, that cold?

No! He shouted, but he didn't hear the words come out, just saw the people, his friends, walking the death march ahead of him.

ooooo

"No!" Sam shouted, coming to with a start.

Dean got up from where he had settled himself in an old rocking chair where he could watch over Sam. After he had stopped breathing, Dean had propped Sam up on pillows, trying to ease the breathing process as much as possible. He moved back over to his brother's side.

"Sam…Sammy?" he stuttered.

Sam had the look again, one of complete confusion, glassy eyes staring at the corner.

Dean struggled to maintain composure. He had just pulled himself together and didn't need to go losing it again.

He again turned away from Sam. The less he looked into eyes that did not recognize him the better.

Yet Sam's eyes were so familiar.

Like when he was soulless.

The thought whipped through his mind like a tornado, leaving devastation in its wake.

It was just like that, he knew it. Sam was with him, yet he wasn't, at least not mentally. Sam was Sam, yet he wasn't that either.

Again, he wondered if this was all part of the wall coming down. Maybe Sam was now a mere shell, burdened with a soul that had been "skinned alive" as Castiel had put it. He thought briefly of calling for the angel but he knew it was useless. He was busy with his own issues.

He tried to get his mind off of it, heading toward the kitchen. He should see if there was soup he decided. Maybe if Sam got some small nourishment in him, he'd be less delirious. Maybe this was indeed the fever and not a permanent state. He knew he could use some himself.

He found an old dented can of chicken soup in the cabinet, a pot and he got it on the stove. When it was finished, he poured it into two chipped coffee mugs.

Sam was dozing again, his breathing still harsh, small moans escaping his lips.

He lifted his brother's head, holding the cup to his lips, trying to get some liquid into his mouth.

Sam latched on to his hand for a second and for the briefest of moments, Dean swore he saw recognition in Sam's eyes.

"Come on Sam. Just have a couple sips, okay?" He begged.

Sam obeyed, Dean guiding him as he sipped the soup.

Dean put it down, deciding to test out Sam's lucidity.

"Sam do you know where you are?"

Sam looked at him, making eye contact but then focusing on the corner of the cabin again.

"Who….who are you?" Dean asked, hesitating to ask, afraid of the answer.

"Mack," Sam rasped out, faintly. Then he repeated it more loudly. "Mack!"

"No Sammy, you're Sam," he asserted. He wouldn't have his baby brother, his Sammy, think anything otherwise.

"Who…who am I?" Dean asked even more hesitantly.

"Mack," Sam said again, fearfully just looking at the corner. "Emmett. Mariah. Ruth. Will."

Dean just stared at Sam as he rattled off names that didn't make sense, speechless, feeling like he didn't know who he was anymore either.

ooooo

Sam again found himself in the cabin, with the calming presence by his side, giving him something to eat. Dean. It was his brother. He remembered everything now, the hunt, the pressure, the panic. For the first time, he registered pain and knew he had to be hurt. Each breath caused searing anguish in his chest so he took slower breaths to try to prevent the agony. His back hurt but anything below that just sort of felt dull and not there. Despite this, he latched on to Dean's hand and looked pleadingly in his eyes. He had come to rely on these fleeting moments in his consciousness, a break from the nightmarish memories of being Mack. Was he Mack when he was soulless? He imagined that he had used a number of aliases at that time. Was that how he knew all these people? Even though everything was still not clear in his brain, he remembered that vividly, that he had once roamed the Earth without his soul.

The cup was held to his lips and his throat was dry so he sipped the lukewarm liquid.

Then there was the spectre, taunting him again.

"You are sitting there eating while your friends are dead? You know that right? Because of you. They trusted you."

Then Sam saw it all. Emmett had opted to stay behind with Mariah as he realized that they were hopelessly lost. He saw a snapshot of their frozen bodies partially buried in the snow. Will had followed along with him but then he'd started to slow him down. He had to stop several times for him. Finally he placed him near a tree, promising to come back for him but he knew it was a lie. He saw Will too, shivering until his temperature dropped so low he couldn't do it anymore. Then he was lifeless, that vacant stare in his eyes. Yet, he had walked on. He never saw how the spectre died. Perhaps it was before Ruth, but he had to have been there in order to have such disdain and anger for him. How could he do it? How could he leave those people out there?

"You see?" The spectre asked him.

But Sam didn't want to see. He felt dizzy as everything began to spin, blurring the two locations of the snowy woods and the cabin until it was all just a kaleidoscope of colors.

He felt his eyes slipping closed and he was grateful for the respite.

oooo

Dean was about to give Sam some more soup, still horrified over the idea that Sam seemed delusional when he began to stare at the corner again.

"Sam, look at me," he instructed, putting the cup down, and pulling Sam's face forward so he was locking eyes with him. However, Sam's eyes had that distant stare again as if he was remembering something, the same blank stare he had in the hotel room when he collapsed after the arachne hunt.

"I killed them all," Sam said so softly that Dean had to strain to hear him. Then Sam's eyes slipped shut and Dean was almost relieved that he didn't have to see those eyes any longer, and that he wouldn't have to hear Sam condemn himself again.

Sam continued to breathe erratically and his coughing had increased. Dean went back to his chair and sipped absentmindedly on his soup. He realized it was tepid now. He set it aside on the small endtable and got up.

"You're Sam, not Mack," Dean said, aloud. He grabbed another pillow from the bedroom and placed it under Sam's broken leg. The bruising was spectacular on it now and it was so swollen that Sam's foot hardly resembled one. He then settled himself next to Sam again, propping him up against him to ease his breathing again. "And I'm Dean, you're brother. There is nothing that is going to change that. You hear me Sam?" He continued, whispering in his ear. "You can be selfish and stubborn to the point that you infuriate me, but you can be empathetic and selfless that it pisses me off too. Please hear me," he begged.

He didn't care what Sam had done soulless. That wasn't his Sam. This was his Sam, the one he held close to him and he wasn't letting go.

oooo

Dean had fallen asleep that way and the sun had just come up on a second day when he awoke to a knock at the door.

Instantly the skin prickled on the back of his neck. Who could be knocking way out here in the middle of nowhere? He carefully laid Sam back down. He still had his gun on him and he grabbed it. He slowly headed for the door.

"Who's there?" He barked.

He thought he heard the sound of a woman's voice but he wasn't taking chances.

"It's Elena, from down the road," she squeaked.

He peeked out the window, straining to see and he could make out a young woman standing there, bundled up against the cold. She was riding a snowmobile and started running quickly toward it once she heard his voice and saw him peeking at her. Apparently he had scared her off.

He wasn't sure if she could be trusted but he couldn't let his one chance at saving Sam pass him by.

He pulled open the door and rushed toward her, grabbing her by the arm.

"Let me go!" She yelled. She tried to stomp on his foot and she twisted his frostbitten hand, causing him to yelp in pain.

She got out of his grasp and rushed back over to her transport when suddenly Dean's cries of pain stopped her.

"You hurt?" She asked, keeping her distance.

"Not as bad as my brother," he said, still clutching his hand.

She paused, still keeping a wide berth between her and Dean.

"I know the guy who owns this cabin," she began. "He's up in Florida for the season. When I saw the smoke coming from the chimney, I thought maybe he was back or something had happened. What's wrong with your brother?" She asked, softening. She moved closer this time but still gave him a watchful eye.

"Come with me," Dean said.

She looked slightly nervous but followed him into the cabin and over to Sam on the couch.

Sam's face was clammy and swollen looking. Blood was seeping through the bandage on his head and his hands didn't look good at all. His breathing had grown more labored, a sharp wheeze with every exhale.

She knelt down beside Sam, putting her hand on his forehead.

"This looks bad," she said. "He's burning up."

"Got caught up in an avalanche and a tree rolled on to him. He's pretty out of it. I'm positive he has some broken bones, and he's sick too."

"I have some basic first aid skills but nothing that can help him. He needs a hospital," She said. Dean noticed the endearing look she had on her face when she looked at Sam, as if she was remembering something.

"Elena," Sam mumbled.

She jumped back at the sound of her name, nearly falling on to the floor.

Dean looked equally as confused as she did. How on earth could Sam know her name? Had he heard her say it outside the door?

"Look he needs help," Dean said, cutting to the chase.

Elena nodded and rushed back outside. She returned with a radio and began to notify the Ranger's station.

Everything was a blur after that. They arrived on snowmobiles within the span of about thirty minutes and rescue personnel began attending to Sam.

Dean hovered nearby as they carefully slid a backboard under Sam, affixed him with a neck brace and lifted him off the couch.

They then began to access his vitals.

"Kid is barely breathing," the medic said.

An oxygen mask was fitted over Sam's face and Dean watched as it fogged up only intermittently, revealing just how shallow Sam's breaths were.

Another medic came over to assess Dean but he shooed them away. He knew he had frostbite on his fingers but otherwise he was fine.

Sam didn't stir at all and Dean was actually grateful. He'd rather not see any more of his brother writhing and screaming in fear or agony, possibly both.

They had to fit Sam on to a stretcher that hooked to the back of the snowmobile while Dean rode on the back of another. They would be taken to the ranger's station where an ambulance would be waiting to take Sam to the hospital.

As they drove, each time they went over any kind of bump, Dean would glance behind to make sure Sam was okay, that he was still where he was supposed to be.

They arrived at the ranger's station and Dean could see the ambulance sirens in the distance casting reflections off of the deep, white snow. Dean could see that the road leading away was mostly clear and that hopefully Sam would be at the hospital soon.

The EMTs rushed over to their patient and again pushed Dean aside.

They began shouting orders about getting IVs started and hooking Sam to a heart monitor. One of the medics decided right there on the spot that it was best to intubate Sam. Dean watched fearfully as they tilted Sam's head back and pushed the tube down his throat, a little too roughly for his liking, but he knew they were trying to help.

Again, they tried to aid Dean but he refused treatment. When they told Dean he couldn't ride in the ambulance with Sam, he felt his mind teetering on the edge. He had an inane urge to shout expletives at them but he did need their help.

Elena was with them the whole time, watching nervously. She wore a necklace which held a ring on it and nervously pulled it up and down the chain. Dean had told her she could return home but she seemed reluctant.

"Are you Mack?" The medic asked.

Dean's ears instantly perked up at the name.

"No I'm Dean, his brother."

"Well he was asking for a Mack right before we intubated him. He couldn't seem to stop mumbling about it."

Dean saw Elena's face visibly blanch as she walked away and headed in the other direction. He had no clue what was going on anymore.

"I think he's confused. You know, the fever and everything."

Dean approached the stretcher looking down at Sam. He looked truly awful, somehow still sweating even though they were outside. They had immobilized his leg and he was being bagged by the medic.

Dean found himself being ushered aside toward another ambulance.

"Look, how much use you going to be to your brother without hands?" The EMT asked him. Something must have clicked in his brain because next thing he knew he was being placed into an ambulance of his own, the medics wrapping bandages around his blistered hands.

Dean looked through the windows of the ambulance and saw Sam being loaded into the other one. He felt tired and heavy, unaware that it would be at least 24 hours before he saw his brother again.

ooooo

"You need to sit still!" The nurse said impatiently as she tried to change the bandages on his hands. He never really had frostbite before and was unaware that part of the treatment was being confined to a hospital bed with an IV hooked in his arm. Apparently they didn't know how serious the damage was unless they admitted him for observation. He knew some of his hands were okay, the parts he could feel. His fingers were blistered and those had to be drained and bandaged. He was having prickly sensations through his fingers though which evidently was a good sign, even if it did hurt a lot.

When they had gotten to the hospital, he had passed out. The doctors said he was slightly dehydrated and suffering from exhaustion. He immediately had asked for updates on Sam but was met with a lot of vague responses that had his temperature boiling.

After several hours of being given the runaround, Sam's doctor came in to give him the full report on his brother's condition.

"Is he conscious?" Dean asked him right away.

"No he's not. We expect that is from the severe concussion, pneumonia or a combination of both."

"He has pneumonia?" Dean asked, frightened. He knew Sam was sick but he hadn't expected it to be something so serious.

"Yes and the fact that he has a few broken ribs and bruised lungs complicates thing. He's having a lot of trouble breathing so we have him on a ventilator."

Dean's heart sunk. He hated seeing his little brother not breathing on his own more than anything else. Dean looked up, realizing the doctor had stopped speaking.

"Do you want me to continue or you need a break?"

"No, tell me. What else?"

"He has a broken femur which is going to require surgery. However, in Sam's weakened condition, it's just not possible. We've had to use external fixation for now to hold the bones together. His femur has split into three pieces but right now the break seems stable."

"Will he be able to walk okay? After the surgery I mean?"

The doctor looked concerned for a moment and Dean knew he was hesitating for a reason.

"What about Sam's back?" He asked pointedly. He knew Sam's back had taken the brunt of the impact and there was real risk of spinal injury.

"The x rays are inconclusive right now."

"What?" Dean asked incredulously.

"There doesn't appear to be any broken vertebra but there is a lot of swelling so it's hard to say."

"Are you saying he could be paralyzed?"

"Mr. Singer, I think we have more pressing concerns at the moment like making sure Sam recovers from his pneumonia."

Dean went completely silent, not wanting to hear anymore.

"Take me to him," he said at last.

ooooo

Dean didn't have to do much bargaining with the doctors to get released. They seemed to catch on that he wasn't going anywhere so they could keep just as much an eye on him in the hospital even if they released him.

Dean took the elevator up to the ICU. He wasn't surprised that given all of Sam's injuries that it's where he would be.

Dean immediately registered the harsh sound of the ventilator as it did the breathing for Sam. He was propped up on pillows, his hands also heavily bandaged like his own. Sam's leg was partly protruding through the blanket and Dean lifted it, inhaling a sharp intake of breath at the metal arrangement that went from the top of Sam's leg to nearly the bottom. There was a metal bar and screws that went directly into Sam. The skin was pink and puckered where the screws went into his brother's leg. Dean could only imagine the amount of pain Sam would have when he woke up or would he? The doctors still didn't know about his spine.

His hands were still pretty useless but Dean did the only thing he felt he could do to help his brother now. He lifted the blankets and tucked them around him to stave off any chill.

ooooo

Sam had been in the same state for just over a week, feverish, unresponsive and still on a breathing tube as Dean kept vigil. The doctors still couldn't be sure if Sam had suffered a lasting spinal injury until he woke up. Dean didn't know the status of Sam's wall either and if maybe Sam was likely to wake up lucid or caught up in an endless loop of memories from when he was soulless or his time in hell.

The frostbite on both their hands seemed to be healing okay but for Dean, it was just a minor victory. Dean was clutching Sam's clammy, now unbandaged hand, when he got a visitor. It was Elena. Dean had nearly forgotten about her with everything that had happened. He had also almost forgotten about the awkward way they left things.

Dean met her outside the door and she shifted from foot to foot.

"Can I go in?" She asked.

"Yeah sure," Dean said, even though he was completely perplexed by the whole thing. She had helped to save their life and he understood empathy but she didn't even know Sam. Or did she?

He watched as she walked over to his bedside and how she tenderly ran her hands through his hair. Dean looked away, feeling like he was intruding on something.

"How is he?" She asked.

"Holding his own," Dean said, simply, adopting the language of the doctors. "Busted leg, ribs, and ah…maybe a spinal injury," he said, stuttering.

"At least he's alive."

There was a curtness to her tone that wasn't lost on Dean and he eyed her carefully.

"Is it okay if I check in on him?" She asked.

"Who are you?" Dean asked, directly, answering her question with one of his own.

"What do you mean?" She asked, putting her guard up. "I told you. My name is Elena."

"How do you know my brother?" Dean asked, continuing his interrogation. Things just weren't adding up for him.

"I…I don't," she said.

"It's just the way you look at Sam, like you know him personally or he reminds you of someone or something."

"My brother," She admitted. "He reminds me of my brother. He died last year in that same area where Sam got hurt. He was out snowshoeing with some friends. As near as the police could tell, his girlfriend was killed by an animal attack. My brother and the others tried to get out of the woods but they got lost and confused, most likely hypothermia set in. They found my brother last. They think he was trying to get them help but…" She stopped, her voice breaking into a small sob.

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

"His name was Mack."

Dean stopped cold suddenly.

"It's just when I heard Sam say my name and then his name, I felt like he was connected to him somehow. I thought maybe he could let me know if he was okay." She was fidgeting with her necklace again, looking anxious.

Dean watched her, fixated on the necklace, as realization hit his brain. So Mack was a real person and Sam knew him somehow. Yet how could Sam know him? Of course there was the fact that he was soulless but he was being pragmatic here. Elena didn't know Sam. If Sam had been close to Mack, surely she would know him too.

Plus there were all those things Sam had said about killing someone and how they were all dead. It was if he was seeing Mack's memories or something. Dean felt the sudden flare of hope too that Sam's wall might just be intact too, but still there was the matter of how Sam knew all this.

"A ghost." The words dribbled off of Dean's lips so smoothly that he didn't have time to stop himself.

"What?" She asked.

"I think your brother is a ghost," he said, matter of factly. It made sense. He didn't care at the moment about her fragility. Right now what mattered was Sam and if her brother was a ghost and he was taunting Sam, he had to go.

"Listen," Dean continued. "You don't know my brother but yet he knows your brother's name and your name too. When we were in that cabin, he kept talking about Mack and Ruth," Dean said, remembering.

"Wait, how do you know his girlfriend's name?" She asked, nervously.

"Sam said it. He also mentioned someone named Will."

"Mack's best friend," she admitted.

Everything Elena said just confirmed what Dean was already thinking. Sam had been seeing Mack in the cabin and somehow he had pulled some sort of Jedi mind trick so Sam believed he was Mack. The whole thing sounded confusing even to Dean yet made so much sense.

"Sometimes when people die, they get trapped here. I think your brother is trapped and that Sam was seeing him in that cabin. He saw things that weren't there. That necklace. Was it his?"

"The ring was his. It was an engagement ring he was going to give to Ruth."

"Was your brother cremated?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I think he's connected to that ring. I have to destroy it."

"No," she shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.

"Listen, I think my brother's life depends on it. Somehow your brother is latched on to mine and Sam thinks he's Mack and that Mack's memories are his."

She contemplated this and Dean understood this was a lot for her to handle, a lot for anyone not versed in the supernatural to handle. The fact that she was standing there hearing him out and not running away screaming was a good sign.

"I thought I was crazy," she said.

"About what?" Dean asked.

"When I was in the woods before, I swore that I could feel his presence. Sometimes I feel him with me but there's always something else. I feel this overwhelming burden of guilt like I just know he can't let what happened go. I know my brother felt responsible for what happened to Ruth and his friends. He was always like that, accepting of everything, even if it wasn't his fault.

"Sam is like that too," Dean admitted, looking over at his brother in the hospital bed.

She looked at Sam too as she removed the necklace from around her neck.

"Will he be at peace?" She asked plaintively, handing over the ring.

"Yes, I think so."

She walked away, apparently satisfied with his answer but Dean didn't really know the answer to that and he wondered if Sam would ever be at peace too.

ooooo

Dean reluctantly left the hospital to destroy the ring. He also conducted a brief investigation to gain access to the police files and photos regarding Mack's case. He saw that Ruth had been mauled viciously and deep down he wondered if it was the work of their werewolf friend back before he got methodical about his kills. It seemed what Elena said had been true. Mack and his friends had all died of exposure and frostbite. Mack's body was found almost exactly where he'd found Sam. Had Sam first met him there? In the woods?

Everything he read about Mack reminded him of Sam. He was a real boy scout going out of his way to help people. He even sort of resembled Sam with the long shaggy hair and boyish looks. However, somehow he got stuck here, so caught up in his guilt, basically a vengeful ghost.

He didn't know if Sam had been seeing Mack in his head while he was unconscious in the hospital but he hoped not. Either way, he hoped that Mack was gone now and that Sam, as well as Elena, would be free of him. He also hoped that Mack would be free of himself.

When Dean returned, he was both elated and dismayed to discover Sam had awakened. He didn't like the idea of Sam waking up to strangers and not to him. He rushed into his room to see Sam propped up in bed, the breathing tube gone and a nasal cannula in its place. Sam's color looked better and he turned to face Dean as he walked in the room.

"Dean," Sam said, breathily as Dean approached the bed. Dean had to swallow back a relieved sob at the fact that Sam remembered him.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked.

"Hurts," Sam admitted.

"Where?"

Sam made a motion with his hand to indicate pretty much everything.

"My leg," he said, when he caught his breath.

Dean caught his breath too because he knew it had to mean that Sam's spine was okay.

Dean called for the doctor to ensure that Sam wasn't in continued pain and they administered more pain medication. The doctor told Dean that Sam seemed to be recovering. His lungs were clearing and Sam responded to stimuli when his legs were touched which meant the swelling was going down on his spine. The doctor was hopeful that Sam would make a full recovery.

ooooo

Over the course of the next couple days, Sam drifted in and out of consciousness due to the necessity of being doped up on powerful pain killers. He still struggled with deep breaths as his broken ribs and clearing congestion still made it incredibly difficult to breathe. Dean had tried reaching Bobby but it seemed he was incommunicado so it was just him and Sam. However, that's the way it often was and he was fine with it. He just needed his brother coherent so they could talk.

He was shocked when after returning from a much needed coffee break, he found Sam wide awake in his bed, although the red rimming around his eyes indicated he was fighting sleep. Sam was scheduled for surgery the next day to put his busted leg back together and Dean was not going to let the chance pass him by to talk to Sam about what happened.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked, sitting down in the chair beside Sam's bed.

Sam shrugged and refused to make eye contact.

"Like a robot," Sam said, finally, gesturing to his leg. Although he felt like he had been one literally too, an automatic killing machine, but he wasn't going to tell Dean that.

"Well you'll be free of that contraption tomorrow. How's the pain?"

Sam shrugged.

"Is there anything you want to talk to me about?" Dean asked, pointedly.

"I don't want to talk about it," Sam said, sighing, sucking in a mouthful of air like he was winded.

"Do you remember everything that happened?"

Of course he did, even though more than anything he'd like to forget, or better yet, wished it never happened at all.

"We were on a werewolf hunt. A real psycho, like me," Sam said disgustedly.

"What about Mack?" Dean asked, finding it incredibly hard to ignore Sam's comment for the moment.

Sam looked up at Dean in shock. Then he looked down again and turned his face away. Dean swore he saw unshed tears in Sam's eyes.

"I killed people Dean," Sam said, finally. "It must have been when I was soulless. I called myself Mack and I murdered some girl. Her name was Ruth and she was going to marry this guy. He was so angry with me Dean." Sam shuddered so violently then that his teeth chattered.

"Sam, stop," Dean said soothingly. He approached Sam and adjusted the blankets around him to warm him up.

"No Dean. You can't keep doing this," Sam said, shrugging out of them. "I'm guilty Dean. It's like I told you before. I have to fix things. It's not just her blood on my hands either. There were others Dean. I led this guy's friends to their deaths."

"It wasn't you Sam!" Dean blurted.

"Dean, stop it!" Sam yelled. "It was me!" Sam choked on a sob and then began violently coughing and gasping, much in the same way Dean remembered from the cabin.

Dean acted quickly and grabbed the oxygen mask from next to Sam's bed. They had left it there in case Sam needed it. He placed it over Sam's face and he didn't fight it on him. Sam held on to Dean's arm for dear life and sucked in the air.

"Nice and slow Sam, okay?" Dean instructed, waiting for Sam's breathing to regulate.

"You okay?" Dean asked, when Sam's breathing had evened out.

Sam nodded, apparently too tired to talk. Dean affixed the mask to his brother's face and arranged his head on the pillows.

"Now you need to hear me out, okay Sam?"

Sam nodded again.

"I don't want you to say anything, just listen and nod or shake your head yes or no for questions."

Sam gave Dean a weak salute and rolled his eyes. Dean almost smiled because it was such a geeky little brother thing to do.

"You weren't Mack."

Sam looked ready to protest again but Dean waved his hand and Sam just sat there, breathing in and out, fogging up the oxygen mask.

"You thought you were Mack, I know. However, Mack was a ghost Sam."

A ghost? Sam pondered for a minute, still not really getting it.

"Did you see someone in the cabin?"

Sam nodded.

"That was Mack. You were seeing his memories."

Then suddenly it all made sense to Sam. It was why he never saw the spectre in the memories. He was the spectre or seeing it from his point of view. The ghost just wanted him to believe he was him or maybe he wanted someone else to carry the burden too.

Sam slipped the oxygen mask off his face, stopping Dean who was about to make him put it back on.

"I'm okay. I get it," Sam said, breathlessly. "There was so much guilt. It felt like me."

"That's probably why the ghost latched on to you Sam. You and Mack weren't that far apart. He was filled with guilt."

"He felt like he killed his friends and I felt that too, like I'd done all those things."

"Like how you feel you did everything when you were soulless?"

Sam didn't say anything then, just sat deep in thought.

"This is what guilt does Sam. It eats you alive, and sometimes even eats you in death, like Mack."

Dean eyed Sam who looked pensive so he continued.

"I did some digging. I think maybe the werewolf got his girlfriend. Then he tried to get his friends out of the woods but they got lost."

"I saw him in the woods," Sam admitted. "I got disoriented too when I was following him and then I just remember something coming down on me."

"He was turning vengeful Sam. He got you to follow him and you almost died."

"I don't think so," Sam said. "He just seemed like he was in a lot of pain. I don't think he knew what he was doing. I don't blame him."

"Why do you find it so easy to forgive others, but not yourself?" Dean asked, almost frustrated.

"Mack was different than me. He was a scared kid. I was a monster."

"Sammy, please. You had no control over what you did. And don't you dare compare yourself to that werewolf ever again. That werewolf took pleasure in what he did Sam. That's not who you are. It's time you forgave yourself."

Sam grew silent pondering the weight of Dean's words.

"What happened to Mack?" Sam asked, breaking the silence. He did want to know.

"You aren't seeing him anymore, are you?" Dean asked.

"No, not since the cabin."

"Big brother took care of it," Dean answered, simply.

Sam just nodded, feeling his eyes start to close. He prayed Mack found peace, no longer tied to the world by his guilt. He knew there was more to his story but that's all that mattered for now and he was exhausted. There was also so much more he felt he still had to make right, so many images of terrible things he had done. Before he fell asleep though, he knew there was one thing he needed to make right now.

"You need to forgive yourself too, Dean," Sam began, softly. "You think I don't know? The way you look at me Dean? It's obvious. You feel guilty about giving me back my soul, what the future will bring. You feel guilty about me being in this hospital bed. You did what you had to do Dean. You saved me."

Dean was taken aback

"I'm here for you too," Sam finished.

"Thanks," Dean said, smiling, watching as Sam fell into a peaceful slumber.

The New Year had started out as horribly as any New Year could but right now Dean had hope. The weight of the world they each carried was cumbersome but it was a bit lighter when they carried it together.

The End

End Notes: I really hope you liked the story and that you will again, please review. I also hope to see you next story which will be really soon and set in season 10. I have a little request to ask of you too. Can anyone tell me why I picked the names Mack and Ruth? Bonus points to you if you can tell me why ;)