Title: Black like Ebony

Summary: When Sam eats a poisoned apple and falls into a deadly slumber, Dean will do anything to save him. Hurt!Sam. Protective!Dean

Warnings: Rated K+ for strong language.

Word count: 13,493 words

Author's notes: Based on this awesome prompt for the comment fic meme at the Ohsam Community: Gen, any season. Sam eats a poisoned apple and Dean learns true love doesn't just have to do with romance. It comes in all forms. Hurt!Sam. Protective!Dean.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The idea for this prompt belongs to the awesome Center of the Galaxy.

Dean had always known that Sam's excessive consumption of rabbit food was going to get them into trouble at some point.

It was completely beyond him how a grown Sasquatch like his brother could survive on nothing but veggies and low-fat yoghurt -especially with a job as physically straining as theirs- but hey, whatever floated the kid's boat, right?

As long as Sam didn't try to convert him and as long as his own diet continued to consist of greasy cheeseburgers and alcohol, Dean wouldn't go complaining about his brother's girly low-carb bullshit.

Or at least that was until Sam managed to get himself nearly killed by an apple.

Yeah that's right.

A freaking apple.

Sam Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, man of letters and professional demon slayer could apparently face down any type of creature you threw at him- even the devil himself, but he couldn't eat an apple from the local farmer's market without nearly dying in the process.

What a great story to tell their grandchildren if they actually grew old enough to have any.

Hey kids, wanna hear about the day when your uncle Sam got it into that thick skull of his to drive 8 miles to get to a farmer's market near Milwaukee?

You mean that time when he stubbornly insisted on buying these totally overpriced apples and then proceeded to choke on them on your drive back to the bunker?

Yeah, good times, huh?

Dean shook his head and snorted in disbelief over their current situation.

He had steered the car onto a side lane as soon as Sam had started coughing around a mouthful of his stupid fruit, spewing spittle and chunks of apple all over the Impala's interior.

"Dude!" Dean shrieked, eyes widening as he pulled the hand break and cut the engine. "Cover your mouth or something, that's just disgustin—"

Dean's voice faltered in the middle of his rant when he saw Sam's fumbling attempts to open the car door on the passenger side.

"Sam?"

His brother was still coughing, one hand clumsily held over his mouth while the other one blindly reached for the door handle, face pale and sweaty in the dull light of a gloomy day.

Something was wrong.

Dean's anger morphed into concern the second he saw the glint of pain in his brother's eyes. And just like that, all thoughts about the Impala's leather interior were forgotten; his big brother instinct taking over and focusing all of his attention on the task of helping Sammy.

Dean leaned over his brother's cough-rattled form to help him open the door, before getting out of the driver seat and rounding the Impala in a hurry.

"Alright, easy, take it easy—" he muttered under his breath as he guided Sam's body to the edge of the seat.

Sam was still clutching the shiny red farmer's apple in his bony fingers, sitting hunched over in his seat, head bowed forward as the rattling coughs wrecked his body.

"Alright, that's it… no more fruit for you, nature boy…" Dean murmured, taking the apple from Sam's loosening grasp and throwing it over his shoulder without as much as a glance back.

For all he knew, the stupid thing could have hit some bypassing old lady on the head, but Dean had other things to worry about right now. Like the fact that his brother's face was turning a sickening shade of white and the way he couldn't seem to catch his breath, no matter how much Dean tried to comfort him.

"De—cough—D-dea—cough—cough—"

"Hey, woah— stop it. Less talking, more breathing, okay?"

Dean grasped his brother's shoulders and moved him forward, pressing a flat hand against the expanse of Sam's back to guide him down so that he was folded over with his head between his knees. "Okay… alright… here we go, that better?"

Even bowed over and tormented by the mother of all coughing fits, Sam managed to shoot him a perfectly lethal bitchface from beneath a curtain of sweaty bangs.

The look said more than thousand words, Sam's annoyance etched into every muscle of his face.

Does it look better to you, you freaking jerk?!

He was still coughing, still eerily pallid, eyes wide and protruding as he continued to wheeze for air, hands fumbling to claw at his own throat as if to somehow dislodge whatever had gotten stuck there, hindering him from taking a normal breath.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled, pounding a hand against Sam's back and trying to help him disgorge the chunk of apple that must have blocked his airway.

Sam shook his head, eyes growing even wider and letting out a pained wheeze—the sound sending an ice-cold shiver of fear down Dean's spine because nothing and no one had the right to reduce his strong and kind-hearted brother to the writhing mess of vulnerability Dean was currently staring at.

"Okay, okay… hold on, kiddo. Lemme just—" Dean leaned forward, pulling Sam into his arms and awkwardly turning his writhing, overgrown brother around so that his chest was pressed against Sam's shaking back.

Wasting no time, he slung his arms around Sam's middle, placing his right hand- balled into a fist right over his brother's belly button and grabbing it tightly with his left one.

Sam protested sluggishly against the weird sensation of being lifted into his big brother's arms like that, already out of it from the lack of oxygen. His head flopped back against Dean's shoulder, mouth opening and closing on another agonized wheeze as he tried to suck in air through his windpipe and faltered, whole body shaking with the pain of suffocating slowly in his brother's embrace.

"I got you, Sammy," Dean whispered against the shell of Sam's ear and then proceeded to abruptly pull his clenched hands up against his brother's chest, trying to increase airway pressure to force the obstructing chunk of fruit from Sam's windpipe.

Sam's body reared up in protest at the painful sensation, but Dean held him fast, repeating the Heimlich maneuver again and again and again…until Sam suddenly started retching.

"Oh god… there you go… there you go, buddy… that's it."

Dean immediately let go of his brother, shifting his hold from tight and restraining to a loose, supportive grasp as Sam dropped down on his hands and knees, gagging around an indefinable glob of saliva and apple after finally- freaking finally having dislodged it from his trachea.

Sam retched painfully and Dean grimaced, wanting nothing more than to stop his brother's suffering.

"Nguh—" Sam moaned, spitting another glob of bile to the ground while Dean muttered quiet reassurances and rubbed his shaking back in soothing circles.

"De'n?" Sam was sucking in air greedily, breathing in short, disjointed gasps and his arms shook viciously, fingers digging into the dirty gravel as he tried to push up from the ground.

He shifted his weight, shaky grip losing its hilt and Dean's hands shot out like a flash, wrapping around his brother's biceps in a steading hold.

"Hey, hey, dude… Take it easy, okay? I'm right here," he gently reassured, moving his palm up to rest against the nape of his brother's neck and squeezing gently.

"D-dee'nh…" Sam pressed out in between panicked intakes of breath and that was when Dean finally noticed that Sam wasn't just calling out for him in the aftershock of suffocation—Sam wasn't even looking for comfort in a moment of weakness.

He was asking for help. His face still bright with pain, eyes glistening with torment as he peeked up at Dean in a desperate plea for relief.

Something wasn't right.

Something was still off with his little brother… hurting him.

"What? What is it?" Dean wanted to know, shuffling closer, hands hovering helplessly over his Sam's shaking form. "Where are you hurting, Sammy? Talk to me, man, I need you to tell me what's going on here."

Sam blinked up at Dean, eyes glazed over pain and a hint of fear and at this point Dean knew with absolute certainty that the freaking apple his brother had eaten had done a lot more damage than first expected.

A haze of salty tears was misting over Sam's vibrant eyes as he choked once again, but this time when he opened his mouth to hurl, there was a twirl of crimson fluid mixed into the glob of saliva that dripped from Sam's chin and oozed into the ground.

It was blood.

Sam was coughing up blood.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Sammy." Dean pressed out in a growl before he spun around to scramble off into the direction in which he had thrown the apple, hurriedly wafting through the shrubs on the stretch of land behind them in search for the discarded fruit.

It wasn't hard to spot the bright red apple beneath an overgrown patch of grass and Dean didn't waste any time before grabbing it and hastily wrapping it into a bandana, stowing the deadly fruit safely away in his jacket pocket.

In his mind he was already running through a list of possibilites for what could have caused this.

Hex Bag.

Curse.

Spell.

Vodoo.

Poison.

Whatever it was, he would find out. And this apple was going to help him. But he would deal with that later... right now he had other priorities. Like making sure his brother would be alright.

He was back at Sam's side the next moment, carefully wrapping his little brother's arm around his own shoulder, while slipping his other one around Sam's waist.

"Alright, you're fine. 'm gonna get ye some help, ye' hear me?" his voice was gruff with emotion; accent coming out stronger than usual as his defenses were lowered by the shock of what had happened.

Sam was a pliant mass of sluggish limbs against him, heavy and unresponsive, coughing occasionally; his body too exhausted to do much more than pant and struggle to stay upright in the aftershock of his torment.

"C'mon kiddo, work with me here for a second…" Dean urged, grunting when Sam staggered, coltish legs buckling beneath the weight of his body.

"Woah, hey, hey, hey…"

"Dean—"Sam whimpered, head sagging forward and knocking harshly against Dean's chin when every last bit of energy was suddenly drained from him.

Dean's grip tightened instantly, heart jumping into his throat as he felt Sam go limp against him.

"No no no no… don't you freaking dare, Sammy—"

But it was too late. Sam's legs folded beneath him and his body sagged into his brother's grip, Dean's arms being the only thing holding him up as he was plunged into a world of darkness.

"Sam?" Dean shrugged his shoulder, causing Sam's head to bob up and drop back down again, completely lax against where he drooled against his big brother's neck.

"Goddamnit, kiddo," Dean breathed out in a ragged whisper when he shifted Sam's weight against him and pressed trembling fingers against the exposed patch of warm skin on Sam's throat.

Sam's pulse was throbbing steadily against his fingertips and Dean let out a relieved exhale before moving forward to lower Sam's dead weight onto the passenger seat of the Impala.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time, huh?" Dean sighed, readjusting Sam's limbs so that his body was spread out comfortably across the bench and not cramped up in a sitting position.

He couldn't risk to restrain his brother's breathing even further. Not after what had just happened.

Stroking a stray tuft of hair from his brother's closed eyes, Dean made sure Sam was breathing alright, before wiping a thin line of bloody spittle from Sam's mouth.

Then he gently closed the door, carefully so as not to jostle Sam any further before rounding the car and getting behind the steering wheel.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and swallow past the growing panic in his chest.

Gently lifting Sam up from the Impala's seat, Dean shifted his leg more to the side, before pillowing his brother's head on his thigh to make him rest more comfortably. "That's better, huh?"

It wasn't like Dean expected Sam to respond- being unconscious and all- but the one-sided conversation was grounding him, giving him something to do as he started the car and quickly maneuvered it back onto the main road.

Glancing down to check on his still brother, Dean's unease grew with each passing second, when Sam started to moan and shift, face scrunched up in pain and as pale as one of the ghosts they'd been hunting in the past.

"Hold on, Sammy. I'm gonna get you some help, alright? All you've got to do is rest and look pretty." Dean's foot pressed down on the gas until he floored it, trees and houses rushing past them in nothing but a colorful blur as he sped down the road as fast as the Impala would carry them.

"Guess it's hospital time, huh?" Dean muttered, hand shooting out protectively to spread against Sam's chest and steady him when the Impala hit a pothole.

The only response he got was more raspy breathing and a pained whimper of discomfort.

"Relax, kiddo…" Dean whispered, his arm splayed against his unconscious brother's chest as he drove into the direction of the nearest hospital. "I'm going to take care of you. You'll be fine."

With concern and desperation bubbling to the surface of his mind, Dean was pacing the length of the hospital corridor, heart racing in his chest as he waited for news on his brother.

He had been here for about two hours now and so far he was still left in the dark about what exactly had caused Sammy and what they were doing to help him.

Finally, when he felt as if he couldn't take another step without collapsing from exhaustion, Dean sank down into one of the hardwood seats in the waiting room with a long sigh.

He was so lost in his helplessness that he didn't even notice the approaching figure to his left.

"Loved one, huh?"

Dean's head snapped up from where he had buried it in his hands to look into the curious eyes of a young woman. She couldn't have been older than 20 and she was stunningly beautiful, luscious black hair falling over her shoulders like a silken waterfall, skin eerily pale in the florescent light of the hallway and lips painted a flashy red; standing in stark contrast to the light taint of her skin.

She looked completely out of place in the middle of a sparsely furnished, cold and empty hospital waiting room and Dean's body instantly tensed, wariness prickling the back of his neck .

"Uh-what?"

Smooth, Dean… very smooth…

The girl chuckled, and sat down beside him. "It's okay… nobody would be in their right mind knowing their family was hurt and there was nothing they could do about it…"

Dean's brows creased into a frown, instantly suspicious. He briefly scanned the room, making sure nobody else was listening in on their conversation before scooting closer, gaze growing intense.

"Who are you?" he demanded, eyes narrowing. "How did you know—"

"Really, Dean? You haven't figured it out yet?" she laughed again, curving her back and throwing her long black hair over her shoulder in one fluid movement.

Dean grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close, losing his patience. "It was you, wasn't it? You did this to my brother?"

The girl held his gaze, smiling innocently even as her eyes glimmered with excitement. She leaned in even closer to Dean, clearly unimpressed with his threatening pose and brushed her plush lips against his ear in a sinful whisper.

"Lips red like blood,... hair black as night…" her warm breath ghosted over his skin, causing him to shiver. "Bring me your heart…my dear, dear—"

"Snow White," Dean finished, the puzzle pieces finally clicking into place in his head.

"Took you long enough," the young woman smirked cheekily.

How could he not have realized it earlier? The apple… the girl… they have dealt with fairytales before.

He should have fucking recognized the similarities.

Dean's hold tightened around the girl's thin arm, fingers digging painfully into her pristine skin.

"What have you done to him, you freaking bitch? What the hell did you do to my brother?!" he snarled, voice growing louder as the memories of Sam's tormented writhing body sprang back to his mind, blood trickling from his mouth as he moaned in agony.

His protective instincts were flaring to new life- promising to wreak havoc on the person who had been stupid enough to hurt his little brother.

But the girl just kept on smiling, never once deterred by Dean's words or actions. "I'm not your enemy Dean."

"Yeah?" he snorted disbelievingly. "Well, I'm not so sure about that…"

"Believe what you want," the girl responded, ripping her arm out of Dean's tight grasp and getting up from her seat. "But I was only trying to help you…"

She twirled around a little, her blue dress spinning through the air and that's when Dean noticed that her whole body had taken on a translucent shimmer, starting to slowly fade and dwindle into nothingness.

"Hold on," he jumped up from his seat, reaching out to touch her, but his hand went straight through her where it had touched solid flesh just a few seconds ago. "Wait! At least tell me what the hell happened back there- tell me how to reverse it!"

Snow White inclined her head to the side, pursing her lips in contemplation. "One taste of the poisoned apple and the victim's eyes will close forever in the sleeping death."

"What?!" Dean's voice broke on a hint of panic, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. He sent an instinctive look back over to the door through which they had carried Sam's prone form earlier and shook his head in denial. "No. That's not true. He's not… he wasn't—he was breathing. He's alive, alright? Just-just tell me how to reverse it! Y-you said you'd help—"

Snow White smile sadly at him, her whole body slowly but surely dissolving into thin air. "There is one way to break the curse, Dean… and one way only."

"What do I have to do?!" Dean asked with a pleading quality to his voice, eyes turning desperate when he could barely see her anymore. "How do I break it?! Freaking tell me!"

But Snow White was already gone. It was too late.

Panic bubbled up in Dean's throat as he stormed forward to where the black haired girl had stood only seconds before, scanning the whole waiting room for a sign of the young woman- even when he knew she was no longer there.

"Nononono… get back! Get the hell back here and tell me how to break the freaking curse!"

Another second passed in silence, with just the electric hum of the lighting and the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall keeping him company.

"Sonofabitch!" Dean yelled, slamming his flat palm against the ugly green wall-paper of the waiting room in a burst of frustration.

He slumped against the wall in defeat, shoulders hanging low as his forehead rested against the cool mortar, trying to regain his composure, when a heavy hand settled on his shoulder, causing him to whip around in shock.

"Mr. Winchester?" a man in his fifties was standing in front of Dean, white scrubs and grey beard, wrinkles crinkling the skin around his hooded eyes as he stared at him with kind reserve.

Dean almost felt disappointed at coming to face with Sam's doctor instead of the black-haired girl he had just talked to- which was weird considering that he had barely been able to await the doctor's return from Sam's examination a few minutes ago.

Maybe it was the fact that he had just gotten the ultimate proof that they were dealing with something supernatural here that had him bowing his head in disappointment beneath the man's watchful gaze.

No doctor would be able to cure Sam from a curse if it really was one. And no amount of pills and treatments would heal Sam from the spell, so whatever the doctor had to say to him right now—it would probably get them nowhere.

"I take it you are Sam's brother?" the doctor hazarded, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

Dean barely managed to nod in response.

"Right, so you were the one bringing him in?"

Another curt nod.

Dean swallowed. "How is he?"

The doctor took a deep breath, glancing down at the clipboard in his hands and then back up at Dean; the expression on his face kept carefully blank as he ventured on. "I'll be honest with you, Mr. Winchester, I have never seen anything similar to the medical condition your brother is currently in. Physically he seems to be perfectly healthy, his vitals are good and so is his breathing, but—" the man's voice trailed off, leaving his sentence unfinished.

Dean wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him until his teeth rattled and his head started spinning.

"But what?!" he snapped impatiently, wanting to know what had happened to his brother.

The doctor pushed his glasses back up his nose before answering. "We did some tests to examine your brother's responsiveness and the results are all pointing towards a complete inactivity of his nerve-system. He's not reacting to pain stimuli, and even his reflexes won't work properly when tested."

Dean's eyes narrowed at the mention of 'pain-stimuli' because so help him god if these freaking people used his brother like some…some lab rat to test their newest instruments of torture on him just to get some stupid reaction tests done- Dean was going to tear this whole place down and rip them from limb to limb.

No kidding.

"What the hell does this even mean?" he demanded, not understanding what the physician was getting at.

"Your brother, Sam, he..." the doctor paused. "His body seems to be shutting down without apparent reason. He seems to have fallen into some kind of shock-induced coma…"

"A coma?" Dean parroted, face grimacing at the thought. "But he was only just eating an apple—how can that even be possible? He was freaking fine until he ate that goddamn' thing! Can't you just—I don't know…pump his stomach or something?"

"I'm afraid that wouldn't help him in the condition he's in right now. Right now, the only thing we can do is wait and hope that his vitals will remain stable until we find out more from the blood tests we did. I'm sorry I couldn't give you any better news…"

Dean clenched his jaw, against a wave of helplessness and fury.

These bastards had another thing coming if they thought Dean was leaving his brother here for longer than necessary.

Especially now after his trippy illusion with Snow White had revealed that Sam's condition had nothing to do with actual poison and everything to do with their crappy lifestyle and all the creatures and demonic, devilish bastards that came with it.

He would get Sammy out of here at the first possible chance.

Gritting his teeth, Dean gave Sam's doctor a curt nod in thanks, pushing past the man towards Sam's room.

He needed to see his brother.

It was about freaking time.

Getting Sam out of the hospital proved to be more of a hassle than originally expected, considering that his brother was completely out of it and provided zero assistance in their great escape.

Dean had to steal a wheelchair from some poor bastard in the adjacent room and wrestle his brother's unresponsive body into it before bailing.

Sam had skidded from the stool once, long limbs slipping free from the supportive footrests and head flopping forward from the momentum of Dean's racing through the narrow hallways.

Dean had grumbled and sworn under his breath, feeling like a jerk for not taking better care of his defenseless brother in the weakened state he was in. "Jesus, Sammy… I'm sorry…"

Sam's face was turned to the side, partly hidden beneath the chocolate brown curtain of bangs that was fanned out over his sickeningly pale face. Dean ran his fingers along Sam's jawbone, gently lifting his brother's chin and tipping it back, before wrapping an arm around Sam's shoulders and heaving him back up into the wheelchair.

For the rest of the ride, Dean kept one arm firmly wrapped around his brother's chest, steadying him protectively until they had finally pushed through the back exit of the building and into the chilly night air.

Dean had already prepared a little nest for Sam in the backseat of the Impala, just like he had done many times before during their childhood. He had propped up a fluffy pillow against one of the doors in the backseat and blanketed the cool leather of the Impala's interior with an old quilt they kept in the trunk for emergencies.

Once he had settled his brother's lax body against the pillow and covered him up with an extra warm blanket, Dean actually took the time to look at Sam, taking in the emptiness in his sleeping features and the way his chest barely rose when he breathed.

He was so goddamned still.

So pale.

So quiet.

Dean almost couldn't stand to look at him.

He got out of the car in a flash, trying to calm his frantic breathing.

It took a second for him to gather his bearings- Snow White's words rushing back to the forefront of his mind in an annoying endless loop.

The victim's eyes will close forever in the sleeping death… in sleeping death… sleeping death...

And then he took a shuddering breath, steeling his resolve.

'He's fine. Sammy's gonna be just fine. He's… just taking a goddamn' nap, that's all.'

Getting back into the car Dean shot Sam another assessing look through the rear view mirror, heart clenching in his chest.

"Don't worry, sleeping beauty… we'll get you back to your bitchy self in no time."

Even if Dean had no clue how to do it.

But if he knew one thing, it was that he would save Sammy from whatever the hell was going on with him.

His brother would not die because of an apple.

Not on Dean's watch.

Dean hadn't seen Missouri in over 10 years, but the second he stepped onto the porch of her small cozy house in Lawrence, he felt her presence sweep over him like a tidal wave, going up from his toes to his head and filling his soul.

The psychic opened the door before Dean had even raised his knuckles to knock against the brittle wood.

"Dean Winchester," the woman greeted warm-heartedly, a bright smile gracing her lips.

She looked genuinely happy to see him and for a split second Dean was so shocked to have her standing in front of him after such a long time without contact- without even knowing if she was still alive- that he forgot how to breathe.

He swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat because how could he put everything that had happened the past ten years into mere words- how could he explain ten years of nothing but loss and grief and devastating setbacks to the woman in front of him without completely losing his composure.

But Missouri seemed to understand him just fine. She took one look at him and knew.

Of course she did.

"Now what do you think you're doing standing there looking at me like that?" the older woman chided in an exasperated voice. "Get your brother and come in. I think there's quite a lot we need to talk about."

Dean offered up a trembling smile to their friend, choking around a wet exhale. "Sammy—he's—"

Missouri's face grew a little softer at the way Dean's voice broke off on a hitched breath, her eyes brimming with empathy. "I know sweetie," she answered in a soft voice, assuring him that she was well aware of everything that had happened to the Winchester men in the ten years of her absence. "You two never seem to catch a break, do you?"

Dean snorted out a humorless laugh.

He didn't even make an effort to answer that one. Because... well just because.

Missouri stepped forward and pulled him into a wordless hug and if Dean closed his eyes and shed a tear or two, basking in her motherly care, nobody was there to judge him for it.

„Now don't go thinking I don't appreciate you being here, Dean," Missouri started, placing a cup of steaming coffee on the small couch table in front of him. "But what exactly do you expect me to do to help you?"

Dean's face fell. "Wha— you…you don't think you'll be able to—" He gestured helplessly towards his brother's sleeping figure on the couch beside him, before looking back at Missouri with a pleading gaze, willing the psychic to understand. Willing her to help.

"Dean…" Missouri sighed, her eyes turning soft as they took in Sam's unmoving, pale form before flickering back to the older Winchester brother. "I might be able to read people's minds… but I'm not a miracle healer. As much as I'd like for yer brother to be well again, I can't just snip my fingers and cure him. Ye should know that."

Dean locked his jaw in stubborn denial, swallowing past his own disappointment at her blatant honesty.

He wasn't sure what he had expected by coming here… He shouldn't have assumed that the psychic would be able to take one look at Sam and instantly know what was wrong with him.

He had just thought… if nothing else worked, maybe Missouri would know a way to reach out to his brother and break through this curse- or whatever it was that kept him captured in a world of oblivion.

Maybe it had been stupid to come here and get their old friend involved in the dangerous mess that was their lives. Too many of their other friends had already paid for helping the Winchesters in the past. And they had paid dearly…

They had paid with their lives.

Dean swiped a hand against his forehead, unable to meet the psychics knowing eyes.

"Oh, my sweet boy…" Missouri got up from her seat and rounded the table until she stood close enough to rest a hand on Dean's shoulders. "When will you ever stop torturing yourself over things in the past that you can't change? All of the people you lost… do you really think they'd want you to carry that blame around for so long?"

Dean shot up from his seat on the couch, fleeing Missouri's comforting touch and even more importantly—her words as she tried to ease his conscience from a lifetime of guilt and self-loathing.

He raised a hand to hold the woman's well-meaning approach, unable to bear her pity for not being able to protect the people that meant so much to them- for condemning them to a cruel and early death.

"I'm not here for a pep talk, Missouri. If I needed someone to stroke my ego, I would have gone and found myself a freaking shrink. Now can you help Sam, or not?"

The words came out harsher than intended, worry for his brother and weariness from the long drive finally having worn his patience thin. Dean regretted his own disrespectfulness the second he saw Missouri's eyes widen in shock.

"Dean Winchester," the woman shot back in a warning tone, making him cringe. "Don't you dare talk in that tone with me, boy! Your parents taught you better than that and you'd better remember it before I decide to teach you some manners."

Dean dropped his gaze, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry, Missouri, I didn't mean it like that… it's just…" he sighed, voice faltering as he shot another fleeting glance towards Sam's ghostly white face and closed eyelids. "It's so freaking hard to see him like this… and I really thought… I thought you might be able to—"

"To do what?" Missouri raised an eyebrow, folding her arms in front of her chest. "To sense him? Did you think I could reach out towards him with my mind?"

"Yeah. I mean- isn't that kinda… what you do?" Dean asked, sounding hopeful. "I mean he must still be in there somewhere, right? Maybe you could clear the fog in his mind and… I don't know, make him understand that he needs to wake up—"

"I'm afraid it's not that easy, dear," Missouri put a halt to Dean's rambling with an apologetic look in her dark eyes.

The spark of hopefulness dwindled and died from Dean's gaze. "What do you mean?"

Missouri took up the vacated spot on the couch next to Sam's sleeping form and reached out to brush her hand through the unconscious boy's unruly mane. "Your brother…" she hesitated, closing her eyes in a state of deep concentration as she carefully tried to invade Sam's mind. Dean watched the exchange with growing unease, feeling helpless as he was forced to let somebody into his brother's head without Sam's outspoken content.

The situation was familiar, ripping old wounds open once again before they had ever gotten the necessary time to heal.

Memories of Ezekiel sprang back to the forefront of his mind and the idea of letting anyone- even Missouri- enter his brother's world of thoughts when Sam wasn't capable of making that decision for himself- suddenly became a whole lot more unbearable.

Body tensing with discomfort, Dean took a step forward, hands balled into fists and mouth opened in protest even when every single fiber inside of him screamed against his actions- wanting for Sam to be cured- for his little brother to be rescued no matter at what cost.

Even if it meant that Sam would never look at him again.

Even if it meant the trust between them would ultimately be broken.

Dean would learn to deal with it somehow, if only his brother would live to see another day… if only Sam would survive.

But when Missouri suddenly gasped and pulled her hand back from Sam's forehead as if she had been burned by the touch, the blood in Dean's veins froze to icicles and his thoughts were put on hold for the moment.

"What?! What is it? Did you talk to him?" Dean pressed out in a panicked rush, growing more frantic when he saw the look of sad resignation on Missouri's face.

"It's just like I thought, honey…" Missouri explained on a soft exhale, shaking her head. "Your brother- the poor boy- has been put under a spell which separates his soul from the rest of the spiritual world."

Dean looked at her in total confusion, a deep frown creasing the skin on his forehead as he tried to follow her trail of thoughts. "So… there's no way for you to reach out to him?"

Missouri shook her head. "The spell keeps his mind shielded from unwanted intruders… and even if I could somehow break down that sphere, I couldn't risk it because I might end up causing some serious damage to your brother's soul…"

Dean swallowed, his rationality losing a battle against his emotions as he tried to speak around the massive knot that had formed in his throat. "How serious of a damage are we talking here?"

Missouri blinked, visibly taken aback by Dean's reaction. "Boy you better not be suggesting what I think you are. This is your brother's soul we're talking about- it is the single most valuable possession any human being ever has the right to call their own, so I don't even want you thinking about messing with it."

"But he might die if we don't do anything about this! His system is shutting down, Missouri! How long do you think he'll survive being like this?" Dean threw his arms to the side, voice thundering through Missouri's cozy living room. His frustration and helplessness were coming off of him in waves and the psychic's eyes softened at the emotional vulnerability behind Dean's words.

"I know that you're only trying to protect him, sweetheart," Missouri spoke in a soft tone, empathy written all over her kind features. "But if you really want to help your brother, you need to find another way."

Dean closed his eyes on a shaky exhale. "I can't lose him, Missouri. I just… I can't."

It was probably the rawest, most heart-felt confession he had ever offered her and Missouri knew to appreciate the man's honesty when all he ever did was trying to hide his emotions from the rest of the world.

"You won't lose him, Dean," she reassured without a flicker of a doubt. Because if there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that Sam and Dean Winchester were destined to live a life side by side.

There were a few precautions to be taken.

After having arranged a make-shift bed for Sam on Missouri's couch in the living room, Dean had set up an IV to keep him hydrated and nourished.

He had half expected his brother to wince when he inserted the needle into his arm, but Sam's face had been completely emotionless at the intrusion.

In fact, Dean couldn't even remember the last time Sammy had made a noise or shown any sign of responsiveness at all.

It must have been a couple of days at least…

The thought drove him crazy.

Sometimes the urge to hear Sam's voice or look into his brother's eyes was so strong that Dean had to press a flat palm against his brother's chest to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath his hand.

Or sometimes Dean would press two fingers against Sam's jugular vein, basking in the slow throbbing sensation of his little brother's heartbeat against his calloused skin.

It was the only proof he had that Sam was still alive.

The only sign that his brother was still in there somewhere, waiting for Dean to figure out a way to help him.

Every spare second that he didn't use to take care of his brother, Dean spent researching.

On his drive to Kansas, Dean had stopped at three different libraries, gathering a small collection of books based on topics such as Bavarian lore, Brother's Grimm Prose and most importantly- all kinds of literature based on the fairytale of Snow White.

He had even found a small leather-bound booklet of the original Brother's Grim version of Snow White in one of the dust-covered shelves in the German section of the library's basement.

Many hours were spent hunched over Sam's laptop as Dean typed word after word of ridiculously long and unpronounceable German words into an online translation system, before he finally slammed the book closed on a frustrated growl, after realizing that his research wasn't getting him anywhere.

"Seriously, who the hell even invented that freaking language? It's horrible…" he muttered to himself, having decided that –Oktoberfest or not—Germany had just managed to drop about twenty places on his '100 places I need to see before I die'- list.

"You look exhausted, honey…" Missouri's voice suddenly rang out, causing Dean to whip around and look up from where he was sitting on the armrest of the couch, propped up leg brushing his sleeping brother's shoulder.

"Here… this will make you feel better." She handed him a bowl of steaming soup and Dean hesitated for just a second or two, before taking it from her hands.

"Thanks, Missouri…"

"Getting anywhere with your research?" she wanted to know, bowing down to gently cup Sam's chin with her fingers.

Dean snorted humorlessly into his soup. "I got nothing… I mean there's a ton of different interpretations of Snow White and some of them don't even focus on that goddamn' apple at all… like in the original tale, Snow White had 3 different objects that were poisoned and not just one—"

"Boy, you're looking for answers in all the wrong places," Missouri broke him off with a slight shake of her head. "These stories were invented for moral appeal, honey. Their goal was to educate children about mannerism and ethnic behavior and humanity…"

Dean's forehead creased into a frown. "So?"

"You really aren't the brightest bulb in the shed, are you?" Missouri teased gently, shaking her head in mild amusement at Dean's cluelessness. "What is the quintessence of the story, Dean?"

Dean's annoyance over being shamelessly teased by the older woman quickly turned into confusion. He bit his lower lip, going through the stack of papers in his lap, trying to come up with an answer for Missouri's question. "Uhm… that you… shouldn't be vain?" he hazarded after a while and then smiled awkwardly when Missouri shot him a disapproving look.

"Well that too. But ultimately it's about true love, Dean. And about how it can overcome anything, if necessary. Even the deadliest curse of the most powerful witch…"

Dean's eyes trailed off into the distance, taking in the psychic's words.

After a second his eyes went wide with sudden understanding and he jumped up from his spot on the couch. "That's it, Missouri, you're a genius!"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and span her in a half-circle in his momentary joy over having found out a potential way for curing his brother.

"Slow down there boy, I'm no longer the whirlwind of energy I used to be when I was twenty!"

Dean laughed at the chiding words, but didn't try to let go of the woman in his euphoria.

"I know what we have to do," he hurried to explain.

Missouri read the oldest Winchester's thoughts effortlessly, emotions and rational impulses transferred from the grounding connection of Dean's palm on her shoulder and just like that the psychic's whole face fell as she was overcome by doubt and hesitancy.

"Dean honey…" she sighed, not knowing how to tell the older brother that his plan probably wasn't going to work when the boy had finally regained a feeble hope to save Sam from the curse.

But Dean didn't seem to notice her discomfort. "You can talk to the spirits of the deceased, right? You can summon them?"

Missouri didn't like where this was going, her gaze automatically settling back on Sam's lifeless form on the couch. "The spiritual world is sacred, Dean. It isn't my place to mingle with the dead or to force them into a conversation against their will…"

"But if they were willing to talk to you when you summon them, then it wouldn't be forceful or intruding, right?"

Missouri narrowed her eyes and stepped out of Dean's hold.

"You want to summon the spirit of Jessica Moore…" she sighed, reading his thoughts. "I see where you're getting with this, but Dean, honey, I really don't think this would help—"

"Why not?!" Dean demanded, growing impatient. "He loved her! He was gonna marry her, had a ring picked out and all—he still carries the goddamned thing around with him in his duffle, just would you please try and do this for me—please…?"

And how could Missouri the boy anything when he looked at her like this.

With a heavy heart and a glimmer of foreboding knowledge, Missouri let out a sigh and gave in to Dean's demand. "You Winchester men and your notorious stubbornness… I swear to god one of these days you're gonna drive me crazy with it."

Dean broke out into a cocky smirk and before she realized what was happening, he had pulled her in for a heart-felt hug, whispering broken words of gratitude into her ear.

Jessica was beautiful.

Just like Missouri had envisioned her when she had first connected with Sam's mind briefly after the boys had reunited and their father had gone missing about a decade ago.

Long wavy blond locks fell over her shoulders and her face was pretty- even with confusion written all over her translucent features, as she flickered in and out of perspective in Missouri's vision.

'Who are you?' the girl asked in a non-too-friendly voice, eyes narrowing in suspicion at having been ripped from the endless rerun of her best memories in heaven and getting plummeted right into the middle of Missouri's living room by a summoning spell.

Dean's eyes flickered nervously from Missouri to the spot of nothingness the psychic was looking at in the center of the room, where Jessica's ghost had appeared.

"Is she here? Can you talk to her?" the older Winchester brother cut in from the side and Missouri shot him a warning glare in response, before redirecting her attention back on the poor spirit of Sam's former girlfriend.

'Is that… Dean?' Jessica's brows furrowed in bafflement as her eyes latched onto Dean after having recognized the gruff-looking hunter from the one time they had actually seen each other in real life.

"I'm so sorry to bother you my dear, but there's something we need to talk to you about… It's… it's about Sam."

Jessica's eyes went wide at the mention of Sam's name and her ghostly apparition grew stronger with a burst of electric energy and emotion. 'Sam? Is he okay? He's alive, isn't he? Please tell me he's okay…'

Missouri's features softened as she swallowed around the lump in her throat. Maybe Dean had been right after all and summoning Jessica had been the right call. After all, it was clear- even to a non-psychic- that this girl in front of her was still very deeply in love with Sam Winchester and couldn't bear the thought of him having been hurt- even though they had been separated from each other for over a decade now.

Apparently this girl- this spirit- had held on to her love for all these years and never let go of the feeling she held for Sam. And if Dean was any indication to go by, Sam had still held on to his love for this woman as well.

Missouri cleared her throat, smiling sadly.

"It's complicated to explain," she began hesitantly. "But he's slipped into some kind of coma. And Dean figured… well Dean thought you might want to try to reach out to him somehow—"

'Where is he?' Jessica wanted to know, with a hint of longing in her voice and when Missouri gestured over towards where Sam was still resting on the couch, Jessica's eyes filled with water as she reached up to clamp a hand over her quivering lips.

Instead of walking, Jessica's appearance flickered and dissolved, reappearing beside Sam's still form the next second.

Missouri's eyes flew over to where the ghost had teleported and Dean followed her cue, his own eyes widening despite the fact that he couldn't actually see what was going on.

'Sam?' Jessica croaked, trembling hand shooting out on an impulse to touch her sleeping lover.

But her hand went straight through his flesh, unable to make the contact she craved so much and Missouri flinched at the overwhelming sensation of grief that flooded Jessica's spirit at her incapability to touch Sam.

"What is it?" Dean wanted to know. "What's happening?"

Missouri just shook her head and got up from her seat, walking over to the reunited couple, but not close enough to intrude on their personal space.

'Oh god, Sam…' Jessica sobbed, leaning down as close as she physically could without actually making contact with his physical body. 'I miss you so much…'

"Missouri?" Dean tried once more, unaware of what was going on around him. "Is she breaking through to him?"

Jessica exhaled a shuddery breath, lowering her translucent face until she was hovering mere millimeters over Sam's head, before gently- oh so very gently- closing the gap of air between their bodies and pressing a brief kiss against Sam's lips.

Missouri averted her gaze, feeling as if she was intruding on a private and intimate moment between the loving pair, even when Sam was clearly too out of it to notice what was happening around him- and even though he probably wouldn't even have been affected by the kiss if he had been awake and fully conscious- given that Jessica was nothing but an ethereal spirit now.

'I love you' Jessica whispered, looking down at her former lover with nothing but longing and affection in her eyes, before lifting her gaze to meet Missouri's eyes over the distance.

'Do you think that helped?'

Missouri swallowed. "Yeah, honey. I think that's plenty…"

They walked back over to the table where Missouri had put up a bowl of herbs for the summoning spell and the psychic sent Dean a long, meaningful look. "Anything you'd like to get off your chest before I release her?"

Dean's eyes widened slightly at that, gaze whipping from Missouri to where he thought to have located Jessica's ghost and back again. He swallowed, looking insecure and sheepish.

"Uhm… god, I know this is really freaking weird and you don't even know me- and you probably got every right to be mad at me for coming into your life and taking Sam away but—" he hesitated, voice breaking ever so slightly. "I guess I just want you to know that I think you must have been an amazing woman if my brother thought you were the one for him… and I'm really sorry you two never got the happily-ever-after you both deserved. And… thank you, I guess…for everything you've done for him."

Jessica smiled. An ominous little smile of kindness and acknowledgment. 'Sam never talked much about you, but sometimes he would mention his big brother and I get it now…'

"Get what, sweetie?" Missouri asked the ghost with a raised eyebrow.

'That he valued Dean more than anybody else in the world… I didn't understand it back then. But I think now I do…" Jessica's eyes were glued to Dean when she talked and the older Winchester brother shivered under her watchful gaze.

'If there's anybody who can get through to him, it's his brother… That much I know.'

Missouri's lips twitched, her own eyes filling to the brim as she bowed forward and blew out the candle she'd lit earlier for the summoning ritual, twirls of smoke evaporating in the air.

When she looked back up again, Jessica was gone.

And Sam was still fast asleep.

"Dean," Missouri was standing in the doorway to the living room, a bowl of hot water clutched tightly to her chest.

Dean looked up from where he was sitting next to Sam's still body and nodded as though giving her permission to come closer.

It was ridiculous, really, because this was Missouri's house and she shouldn't feel the need to dance around them like this. But at the same time, Dean felt grateful that the woman was giving him some space after their failed attempt to break Sam out of the curse.

He really needed some time to clear his head after what had happened with Jessica.

Missouri set the steel basin down on the couch table, lathered water sloshing over the rim and splashing onto the wooden surface. A soaked sponge was drifting in the soapy twirls and Dean blinked at it incomprehensibly.

"Don't just look at it, boy," Missouri chided with a stern look. "I'm guessing your brother would prefer you to clean him up, but I ain't above doing it myself if you don't get to work anytime soon…"

Dean swallowed. "Nah, It's okay, I'll do it…"

Not like he had never cleaned Sam up before.

Missouri propped her arms into her side, watching Dean expectantly and it was only then that he realized she was waiting for him to get started.

Man, that woman was demanding.

Letting out a soft sigh, Dean scooted closer to his brother's torso and snaked an arm beneath his brother's back to hoist him up into a sitting position.

Sam's head lolled lifelessly to the side until Dean propped him up against the back rest of the couch, making sure his brother was resting comfortably even in his state of deep unconsciousness.

Sam's arms flopped out laxly to the side- as if in a half-desperate attempt to stop Dean from manhandling him like that- protesting even from the depth of his current oblivion.

Dean froze mid-movement and sighed, hands going still from where they had started pulling Sam's shirt off.

He turned around halfway, sending Missouri a look over his shoulder. "Listen… uhm, would you mind—"

Missouri held up a hand to stop him from finishing his sentence. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, before turning back to look at his unresponsive brother.

"Always the shy one, aren't you?" he murmured in a half-amused tone and then proceeded to wrestle the shirt off Sam's unresponsive body. "How are you supposed to ever get laid if you won't even let an old lady see you naked, huh?"

Dean was pretty sure Sam would throw him a bitch face for that comment if he could.

His brother's chest felt cold to the touch despite the fact that it was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and when Dean finally managed to get the shirt off, Sam's hair came out of the encounter more tousled and messed up than he'd ever seen before- standing off his head in weird angles and sticking to his forehead like chocolate colored octopus tentacles.

Dean couldn't help but snort softly at the sight, feeling tempted to get his phone and snap a quick picture for blackmailing purposes.

But the thought left his mind as quickly as it had come, because there was no way in hell Dean would take advantage of his brother's weakened state like that.

He made quick work of Sam's jeans and rinsed the sponge before gently dabbing at Sam's skin, cleaning his brother's body from sweat and grime.

He was extra careful with his ministrations around Sam's face- tenderly washing away the dried flakes of crusted blood around Sam's nose and mouth and shivering at the reminder of when his brother had coughed up his insides not too long ago.

"You know," Dean started, needing to break the silence before it became too much to bear. "I really thought Jess would get you out of this funk… but you've always been stubborn like that- never taking the easy way out."

He shook his head, fighting off memories from when Sam's tenacious streak had landed them in trouble. Most of them were taken from their childhood and teenage years…

Like father, like son.

"I thought… I don't know man, guess I thought with Jess being your one true love and all—" he halted himself, biting his lower lip, the sponge coming to rest against his brother's collar bone. "I really thought she could bring you back, you know?"

She couldn't.

He had been wrong.

And in hindsight, Dean felt almost guilty for having brought Jess back like that when his brother hadn't even been able to acknowledge her presence.

When he had been completely unable to see her for one last time. To talk to her. To hear her when she confessed her love to him.

Dean bit his lower lip and stared down at Sam with imploring eyes. "I'm scared, man. You can't just leave me alone like that, okay? I need you to see this thing- this curse- through, you hear me?"

Dean was about to say more when the distinct sound of fluttering wings caused the words to stutter and die on his tongue.

Sure enough he found Cas standing right there in the middle of the living room when he looked up, face blank as he took in the two brothers with wondrous eyes.

"Why is your brother naked?" was the articulate question that apparently sprang to the forefront of the angel's mind and Dean locked his jaw against a wave of aggravation.

Choosing to ignore the angel's words, Dean's eyes narrowed in accusation. "Where the hell have you been, Cas? I've been praying for you—"

"I heard you, Dean. But there were urgent matters of importance that needed to be tended to first."

"More important than Sam's life?!" Dean burst out angrily, throwing the sponge back into the basin and getting up from the couch.

Cas looked from Dean to Sam and back again before answering. "I didn't know your brother's life was in danger. What happened to him?"

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his jaw. "I don't know… it's some sort of curse. He ate an apple and fell into this trance-like sleep. It's been over a day now and he- he hasn't shown any signs of awareness- it's almost like he's not even there anymore and I—"

"You're worried for him," Cas finished and Dean's eyes shot up to meet his blue ogles in silent accordance.

He didn't say anything, didn't feel the need to elaborate.

Of course he was worried- scared shitless, to be precise and Cas knew him well enough to be aware of that.

"So…" he prompted, raising an expectant eyebrow. "Can you do something about this? Like… get through to him somehow?"

Cas looked hesitant as he stepped forward and studied Sam's lifeless body from head to toe.

"He looks… distant," Cas observed and crept a little closer still. Dean tensed up on instinct, unwilling to let anybody- even one of their most loyal friends- close to Sam when he was out of it and vulnerable and exposed like that.

Hovering close, Dean unfolded the nearby quilt Missouri had handed him earlier and spread the fabric over his brother's body, covering him up so that only his brother's arms and shoulders were visible.

"I am familiar with the human physique and body structure, Dean. This is nothing I have not seen before—"

"Yeah well, I still don't want you leering at him, okay?" Dean snapped, knowing his brother wouldn't want anybody to see him like that- no matter who it was.

"I wasn't leer—" Cas looked taken aback for a second, but then he shook it off and turned back to Sam, reaching out to press two fingers against his forehead.

Dean cringed inwardly when Cas tried to invade his brother's mind with his angel powers, but he was really at the end of his tether here and if Cas could somehow reach out to Sam, maybe he would be able to snap him out of his trance.

It only took a minute or so before Cas opened his eyes again- and Sam didn't.

Dean's heart lurched in his chest. "What?! What is it? Did you get through to him?"

Cas looked sad when he shook his head in denial. "I'm sorry, Dean. Something is shielding your brother's mind and soul from the outside world. It's a powerful force that holds him captive. I'm afraid my grace isn't strong enough to break through."

"What do you mean, 'not strong enough'? Your grace is a whole lot more powerful than anything I can come up with myself, alright? There's gotta be a way for you to—"

"Dean Winchester."

Dean whirled around to find Missouri poking her head through the kitchen doorway, sending him a stern glare.

"He said no, boy. And that's that. Don't go looking for answers where there are none…"

She stared at him for just a moment longer before turning towards Cas with a welcoming smile. "Well if I'd known we were expecting visitors I would have cooked more. Come on now, come and let's have something warm to eat."

"I don't require food—" Cas stammered somewhat helplessly, taken aback by Missouri's cordial welcoming.

"Nonsense!" Missouri rebuked, waving him closer towards the kitchen. "None of my guests will leave this house hungry."

Then she turned towards Dean, her features softening when she noticed the crestfallen look on his face.

"We will find a way to help your brother, honey. Don't let yourself be discouraged by one set-back along the way… your brother depends on you now more than ever. He depends on you to not give up on him."

Dean blinked, jaw set and eyes fierce when he spoke his next words. "I'd die before I give up on my brother."

Missouri looked at him with a deep sadness and he felt a shudder curse through his body at the way her gaze pierced right through his defenses.

"I know you would," she whispered, her voice full of conviction. And then her features smoothed out again, eyes going warm and friendly.

"But you're not dying under my watch. So quit sulking and go get some food into you. I sure as hell haven't made that tomato and rice soup for nothing…"

Dean's eyes grew misty at that, his heart clenching painfully in his chest at the realization that despite Sam's absence- Dean wasn't completely alone in this world.

Not by a long shot.

"Heyy bitches! How's it going? Miss me yet?" Charlie's cheerful voice chirped over the phone and Dean closed his eyes at the sound of her voice.

"Heya, kiddo…" he rasped into the speaker and apparently that was all it took for her to notice that something was off.

"What's wrong with you? Is Sam alright?"

Huh.

"How did you—" he started but Charlie didn't let him finish.

"Because I know you, Dean. And that right there- totally was your worried-about-my-baby-brother-voice, so don't even try to deny it, kay? Now what's going on with Sam?"

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again; gaze dropping down to his brother's slightly caved in cheeks and the sickly white tone of his skin.

It's been a week.

A freaking week without hearing his brother's voice or seeing him smile or looking into his eyes and Dean hadn't slept or eaten or showered for the past three days- much to Missouri's chagrin- had barely been able to leave Sam's side to take a piss, because he was so worried- so fucking afraid that if he wasn't there to watch the slow rise and fall of his chest, Sam would cease to exist altogether.

He had no clue how to explain all of that to Charlie however- wasn't even sure if he should involve her into any of this.

"He… it's bad, Charlie… he's not- responsive and I—" his voice caught on the words and he clamped a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and clinging desperately to that very last bit of composure he still possessed.

Charlie heard him though- could feel him breaking down on the other end of the line and she was meeting him with respectful silence- giving him enough time to get a grip before she finally spoke.

"Where are you right now? I'm coming over…"

Dean shook his head even though she couldn't see him. "No, you really shouldn't— we'll- I'll find a way—"

"Dean," she said, cutting him off. "You're family. Just tell me where you are and I'll come."

You're family.

Not because of blood but out of choice.

Because she chose to weasel her way into their hearts.

Because she had seen them at their lowest and accepted them into her life despite the fact that they meant trouble.

Family.

Because just being friends did no longer cut it.

Dean felt something warm and wet trickle down his cheeks and his soul ached so much he couldn't breathe.

"Okay," he choked out, even though it wasn't.

Jodie was another story entirely.

Dean didn't reach out towards her like he did with Charlie.

She was the one to send them a text, checking up on them and asking if everything was okay.

Dean's fingers hovered over the buttons as he willed them to text back that they were fine, thanks.

But for some reason he ended up sending her coordinates for Missouri's house instead.

Sam's in trouble, he added. And that was all it took.

Jodie answered five seconds later and Dean laughed wetly at the screen.

Be there in 5 hrs. That boy's in for some motherly scolding- just sayin'. Hold tight.

They ended up being 6 people altogether.

Dean would never have imagined- not even in his wildest dreams that he would be sitting in Missouri's living room, friends and family gathered around him and try to rouse Sam from some kind of eternal slumber.

But here they were, standing in a circle around his brother's sleeping form.

Missouri, Jodie, Charlie, Garth, Cas and himself.

The very last people on this planet they had left- their only friends that weren't dead yet.

It should probably make him feel terrible, but all Dean could feel was gratitude towards them- for being there when he needed them.

They had discussed things for hours- going through the lore, recounting tales of Snow White and trying to figure out a way to go up against this spell with combined thinking and hunter logic but in the end it all boiled down to one very weird conclusion.

"It's your bond," Charlie had piped up from where she had been hunched over one of the leather-bound books of the Brother's Grim Saga.

"Come again?" Dean asked and Missouri whipped him over the head for not having said 'excuse me' instead.

"Look- Snow White's eternal slumber is broken when she receives the kiss of her one true love, the Prince, right?"

Dean looked at her, uncomprehending. "Yeah but we tried that, with Jess. And it didn't work."

Jodie seemed to have caught on with whatever Charlie was trying to say. "I don't know who that Jess-girl is, but I guess what she's trying to say is that maybe if she hadn't been able to break the curse, their bond wasn't strong enough. Their love wasn't deep enough to cut through the veil."

"That's impossible," Dean pointed out, sighing heavily as he shook his head. "Sam was going to marry her, he had never cared about anyone as much as he did about Jessica. The kid's still hung up over her- even years after her death. If that's not true love than I don't know what is…"

Garth crept closer from the side, crouching down beside Sam and gently covering the sleeping man's hand with his own. He stared down intently at the unconscious man on the couch in front of them, taking in the frail body that was hooked up to several IVs, pale and silent and so very still.

"You don't think there's ever been anybody else Sam cherished more than her?" the dorky man questioned with an openly sceptical expression on his face. "C'mon Dean..."

Dean frowned, feeling like he was missing something. "Uhm… no, I mean- like I said—" he went on, not really sure what they all wanted from him, when realization finally sank in.

"What, me?" he sputtered, completely bewildered as he turned around to stare into the faces of his friends. "It isn't like that—Jesus, Sam and me, we're brothers! We're not—"

"Hold your horses, Dean," Jodie easily intercepted, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she sent him a motherly scowl. "Nobody said that your one true love needed to be of the romantic kind, okay?"

"She's right, Dean," Cas endorsed calmly from the side. "I've never seen two human beings whose hearts and souls were more tightly interwoven with each other than yours. Your bond is exceptional…"

Dean's head was spinning. "I don't—he's my little brother. I look after him. That's it, okay? It's not like we're the Brady's or anything. I mean we're not exactly poster boys for what the perfect sibling relationship should look like!"

"Boy, you better watch what you're saying!" Missouri chided with a stern look. "Don't ever take what you have for granted. Most people would do anything to even just catch a glimpse of the kind of relationship you two share."

Dean drove his hands through his spikey hair and took a deep breath.

"Dean," Charlie calmly started. "You sold your soul for Sam. He defeated the devil to save you. Look into his face and tell me you don't believe that your connection goes beyond the average kind of brotherhood..."

"So what?" Dean challenged, voice rough with emotion. "You want me to confess my undying love to him, is that it?"

"It's not about what she wants… or any of us for that matter…" Missouri corrected, reaching out to place her open palm against his chest- right over his heart. "It's about how you feel down deep in here…"

Dean closed his eyes, resisting the idea for just a moment longer before nodding his consent.

"Alright."

He just wanted to hear his brother's voice again. To look into his eyes again.

See him smile and throw him annoyed bitch faces and bicker with him over things that didn't even really matter- like who had left the toothpaste uncapped or who took all the hot water for the morning shower

He would do anything if there was even the flicker of a chance that it could save Sam.

Even if it was as girly as confessing his love to a sleeping Sammy when the princess probably couldn't even hear a word he was saying.

Hands down.

He would do it.

And so he did.

"Hey, uhm…" Dean cleared his throat, feeling incredibly stupid and insecure and unable to formulate his thoughts into meaningful sentences. "Sammy… I don't know if you can hear me… or if you're even aware I'm here—"

He sighed and sneaked a hand down to tangle his own fingers with his little brother's, wanting for Sam to feel their connection- not just emotionally- but physically.

His other hand was clenched into a tight fist by his side.

"So you've been out for over a week now and… and I know it's not your fault, but just so we're clear- you won't be eating apples for a long time, dude. Not under my watch."

Sarcasm. Humor.

The weapons of the defenseless.

Their friends had given them some space- knowing there was a snowball's chance in hell that Dean would let them stand by and listen in on his broken confession.

Because as much as he appreciated them being here and all, this moment – this conversation would just be between the two of them.

Nobody else got to listen in on what Dean would tell his brother next.

"Shit, Sammy…" he breathed out after a moment of stark silence and when he looked down into Sam's ashen face- completely void of life or emotion he felt every last bit of strength drain from his body.

His eyes filled up in the span of a second and his whole body was shaking with the sobs he was trying to hold back- the ones he's been holding back for over a week now.

"I don't even know where to begin, man— you've always been better with words than me. I just—the guys thought it was worth a try to tell you how I feel about you—"

He snorted, shaking his head. "Which is a load of crap if y'ask me, cause at this point I'd like to think that you know how much you mean to me without me having to spell it out..."

He stopped again, drawing a shaky breath. "But they seem to think that we're special- that what we have is special and I'll be honest with you man- I think that too… Not in the gay, princessy, fairytale way- but in the way that I can't imagine my life without you. And not just my life, dude… but more like… like my whole existence is wrapped around yours. Like our souls are one or something."

He halted his voice, faltering because this whole thing was still too surreal for his liking. And when laughter bubbled up from his throat, he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even hear it.

"Wow, that must have been the weirdest thing I've ever said… And see that right there- the mere fact that all you have to do is lie down and play princess to get me to pour my heart out, should say it all."

His fingers curled up even tighter around what he held clutched in his right fist and Dean winced when the object bit into the skin of his palm.

"The other day when I was giving you a sponge bath… I went to get a new set of clothes from your duffle and I found something…"

He took a shuddery inhale, biting his lower lip, regret and shame hitting him like a ton of bricks.

"I-I know you wouldn't have wanted me to see it, Sammy… and I'm sorry I took it, but—"

A single tear ran down his cheeks, when he finally unclenched his right hand until the small horned penchant fell down to tangle from his fingers.

It was the amulet.

The one Sam had given to him when he had learned about monsters on that faithful Christmas Evening a lifetime ago.

The one that Dean had worn reverently for ten years and then thrown into a trashcan, discarded like something worthless and ugly.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy," Dean pressed out, when he rolled the penchant around in his palm, thumbing over the familiar lines and edges.

"I'm sorry I threw this away. And I'm sorry I made you watch. I never wanted to make you feel like I was giving up on our brotherhood… or on you. That wasn't it, okay? I was just trying to hurt you back for what happened in heaven and I… I want you to know that I regretted it the second I stepped out of that motel room."

Looking down at the golden charm for just a moment longer, Dean finally lifted the leather cord up and pulled it over his head. The familiar weight settled around his neck like it had never been gone and Dean felt as if a missing part from his soul finally clicked back into place.

"I love you, Sammy… sometimes even more so than you want me to, because you're not just my little brother, but you're also my best friend and I know we never talk about that- but in a way, you've been like my kid, too. Probably even more so than you've ever been Dad's or Mom's."

He snorted at his own little speech, wondering if their father ever actually stopped to realize how big of a part Dean had played in raising Sam.

"And maybe that makes us special- or maybe it just means we're screwed in the head- but I'm glad I've got you by my side, man. And I really fucking miss you. So you better get a fucking grip and come back to me now, you hear me? Cause when I find out that I just made a complete idiot of myself just so you could continue your beauty sleep, I'm gonna get my sharpie and start decorating your face."

Dean finished his speech on a shaky laugh and then paused, unsure of what to do next.

He hesitated for just a second longer before leaning down to press a lingering kiss against Sam's forehead, his tears falling silently into his brother's soft hair.

He was afraid to pull back because of what would happen- afraid that he would find Sam lying there just as silent and unresponsive as before.

But then there was movement. Just a tine flutter of eyelashes against skin and Dean squeezed his eyes shut again, more tears spilling out.

"Dean?"

Confusion clouded his brother's voice when Dean leaned back to stare into sleep-muddled eyes.

Dean laughed and shook his head, unable to form words around the sudden lump in his throat. He was just so glad to see his brother awake- was so relieved to have Sam back that the ability to speak had seemingly left him.

Leaning forward, Dean wrapped his confused-looking little brother into a tight hug and closed his eyes.

There would be time for explanations later.

For now he would hold Sam tight and not let him go and enjoy the feeling of uncomfortable metal cutting into his skin from where the amulet was squished between their chests.

This moment belonged to them.

And Dean would enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

The End.

So that's it. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing guys! This was my first prompt fic and I really enjoyed working out another person's idea, so there will probably be more stories like this in the future. Please drop me a few lines if you enjoyed this fic, it would be awesome to hear what you thought ;) Thanks for the support, y'all are amazing :))