Disclaimer: It's Kripke's world. But, I'm getting to be such a constant visitor; they'll probably kick me out.

Author's Note: Like everyone else, I'm sure, I love the episode "Faith". So, I had to write some missing scenes. They just called to me and I caved. A bit of hurt Dean isn't bad, either, of course. *smiles.* For those who choose to read, I hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome as well!

A quick special thanks to Sweet-destiny3 for beta-ing! Now, on with the story…

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Trusting in Faith

By: Pinkchick

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"DEAN!" Sam shouted frantically.

Halfway down the wooden basement stairs, he jumped and in four steps was at Dean's side. Glancing quickly around the flooded basement, he noticed the taser gun lying limply in his brother's hand and the Rawhead dead a few feet away.

Returning his attention to Dean, he tapped his brother's cheek once, twice. Nothing.

Reluctantly manhandling Dean onto the wet ground, Sam quickly began CPR as soon as he realized his brother wasn't breathing and had no pulse. "Oh, God," Sam murmured between breaths. "You were supposed to electrocute the rawhead, not yourself too, you idiot."

Time seemed to slowly stand still as he repeated his jerky movements. He wanted for Dean to wake up. Wake up and tell him to get out of his personal space and stop hovering. He wanted something. Anything.

"C'mon, Dean." Sam breathed twice and went back to doing compressions. "You are not dying like this, you hear me. You're not." His voice broke.

Fifteen compressions. Two breaths. Fifteen compressions. Two breaths.

Why wasn't this working?

Dean suddenly coughed softly and his eyes fluttered. Sam gently pulled his brother's water soaked back up to his chest and hugged Dean to him, not caring about what the older hunter had to say about it. Sam needed the closure.

His brother's pulse was weak and erratic but it was, thankfully, there.

"S'mmy?" Dean croaked, his eyes were still closed and he was far too pale beneath the small smattering of freckles across his nose.

Sam pulled him a little closer. He knew he should call 911, but he wanted to prolong the moment. "I'm right here, Dean."

Dean swallowed heavily and grimaced. He attempted to open his eyes, but he only managed small slits. If Dean was wondering why he was being bodily embraced by his little brother, he made no mention of it. He weakly lifted a hand to pat Sam on the chest. It slid down bonelessly. "You… ok?"

Sam wanted to laugh. "I wasn't the one who was electrocuted, dude."

Dean winced, trying to shift. Sam kept his hand firmly over Dean's heart, holding him down. "Doesn't… answer… m'question."

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam ran his hand through his brother's short cropped hair.

"Good," Dean said tiredly, his body sagging. "Now stop… touching… me, big… baby."

"Not a chance, dude." Sam let out a strangled laugh. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. He could've gone back upstairs and told one of the kids they'd rescued to do it, but he didn't want to leave Dean alone.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Sam hung up as soon as he'd finished giving them the address. Dean's breathing had grown shallow. Sam shook him. Dean groaned, his head turning into Sam's shoulder.

"Hey, hey, don't go to sleep yet, Dean, ok?" He leaned down so his chin was resting on top of Dean's head.

"'M tired."

"I know, but just stay awake for a little bit longer, alright?"

"Ok… 'l try." Sam shifted, trying to put his feet underneath him. Dean grimaced, his face losing more of its color. Sam apologized quietly, but continued moving slowly until his legs were in front of him. Dean let out a pained and breathy, "S'mmy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Stay."

Sam's throat constricted painfully, his eyes blurring. Damn it. Coming back after angrily leaving to find their father a few weeks ago, he'd promised Dean they would see the hunt through together.

Dean wasn't completely with him if he was asking Sam not to leave, but he would be damned if he didn't do as he was told. Just this once.

"I told you you're stuck with me, remember? I'm not going anywhere, Dean," Sam promised softly. Dean didn't respond.

It was a promise Sam fully intended to see through to the end. After all, a Winchester was only as good as his word.

Sam tightened his hold on Dean and began gently rocking them back and forth, muttering comfort and nonsense to his unconscious brother.

It was how the paramedics found them five minutes later.

Sam woke to the violent sounds of retching. He grimaced at the sound of his brother's panting breaths. Getting out of bed, Sam made his way to the bathroom swiftly. It was dark, but Sam could see the outlined shadow of Dean hunched uncomfortably over the toilet throwing up what little food he'd been able to hold down.

Sam turned on the lights and made his way over to his shaking brother. Dean didn't look up as he continued being sick. Wincing, Sam grabbed a washcloth and wet it with warm water. Leaning down so he was on his brother's left side, he placed it on Dean's neck. He began rubbing Dean's back, murmuring words of comfort.

It wasn't right. Dean was too young to have had a heart attack. His brother didn't deserve it. Any of it. The hunt was supposed to have been straight forward and simple. Unfortunately, nothing in their lives was simple anymore. He didn't know if it ever had been.

But at least the stubborn idiot had agreed to go and give this Roy LeGrange a chance.

Well, he hadn't agreed to it in so many words, but Sam would drag him there whether he'd agreed to it or not. He was not going to let his brother die without a fight. Not when he was finally back in Sam's life again.

"Easy, take it easy, man," Sam soothed, washing out the cloth and putting it back. "You're good. I gotcha."

They sat that way for what felt like eternity, but were probably only five minutes. Finally, Dean's retching tapered off to dry heaving until his stomach decided he'd had enough. Sam reached over the sink to pour his brother a glass of water. His hand remained on Dean's shuddering shoulder.

Dean slowly and painfully leaned back against the bathtub, wincing and breathing heavily by the time he was done. Sam helped tip the cup of water to his lips. Dean instead accepted it with slightly shaking hands, waving his brother off.

Sam knew he was hovering. His brother hated it, but Sam needed both the comfort and the need to know he was at least doing something productive. He figured Dean still wasn't used to being taken care of. Dean was the big brother, protector. Sam was the protected. The tables were now turned and it appeared deeply ingrained roles were always more hard to relinquish.

But, Dean wasn't the only one who needed to be needed sometimes.

After swishing and spitting, Dean tipped his head back, closing his eyes. He swallowed convulsively and Sam started to grab his arm to lead him to the toilet again, but Dean's barely audible voice stopped him. "This sucks."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. He took the cup of water from Dean's hands and placed it back on the sink.

Dean squinted up at him tiredly. "This sucks out loud, Sammy."

Sam's throat closed at the resigned tone. Dean's skin was a pale gray, his eyes sunken and drawn. It was a dull comparison to his usually full of life brother.

"C'mon, Dean. I don't want your pain in the ass to catch pneumonia on top of it all."

There was a ghost of a smile gracing Dean's lips. "It'd just be my luck."

No. It didn't seem luck was very fond of them right now. Maybe that would change when they headed for Nebraska in the morning. Sam hoped his faith didn't let him down. Hoped Dean still had faith in him, at least.

He bent down and pulled Dean up with him, taking his brother's left arm and putting it around Sam's shoulder when Dean listed to the side. "Dean? You alright?"

"'M fine," came the automatic reply. Dean's eyes were closed, whatever color left fading quickly. He swallowed convulsively several times. "Just dizzy."

"You gonna be sick again?" Sam asked, standing still as he waited for Dean to ride out the dizzy spell.

"No," Dean answered honestly, not daring to move his head. Sam took that as encouragement and began moving forward.

They walked as slowly as an eighty five year old man with arthritic knees, but they were making progress. By the time Sam set Dean down on his bed, his brother was breathing in heavy puffs of air and sweat had broken out on his forehead.

Sam let him go and gathered the extra blankets he'd left on the side table. He brought them over to the bed. Dean shrugged him off weakly whenever he tried to help. When the older hunter was finally settled, Sam covered him in the extra blankets. He knew heart patients usually got cold and Dean would never admit to it, so he'd come prepared.

Dean cracked one eye open and did a really bad impression of his patented glare. "You done, Florence, or you gonna tuck me in, too?"

"That depends," Sam replied. "You gonna stop being stubborn and let me help you?"

"No." Dean winced and settled his head back into the pillows. "Just 'cause I'm dying, doesn't mean I'm still not capable of doing things on my own."

"Right, well… it doesn't mean you need to," Sam assured him softly.

Dean pursed his lips, but didn't say anything. He closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable with minimal movement. Sam thought his big, strong brother looked fragile and small just then. He moved to pull the blankets up, despite the elder's earlier comment, and succeeded in practically mummifying Dean.

"And Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"It's Ms. Florence to you." Sam smirked.

"Girl," Dean muttered before tapering off to sleep, his breathing still labored, but even.

Sam fell into his own bed, weary and wondrous about the healer they were going to visit tomorrow. Dean wouldn't like it, but he was desperate and grasping at straws. But, he'd rather have a brooding, pissed off brother than none at all.

Sam pulled his blankets around him and turned so his brother was in his line of vision. Dean was on his back, and his right arm was dangling off the side of the bed. He listened to his brother's shallow and raspy breaths.

Sam reached over and wrapped his thumb and index fingers around Dean's wrist, letting the proof of his brother's heartbeat lull him into sleep.

Dean cleared his throat as Sam turned on the Impala. They were finally heading to Nebraska. Sam didn't know whether to be happy or nervous. "Here." A familiar looking necklace was held up to him and Sam took it. Dean sank back into the leather seats of his car and leaned his head against the headrest, worn out.

"What's this?" Sam asked, curiously wondering what Dean was getting at.

"It's the pendant you gave to me that one Christmas, remember?" Dean sounded pained, but Sam knew what the item was. Dean never took the thing off so he didn't understand why it was being given to him.

"I know what it is, Dean," Sam said, exasperated. "I meant, why're you giving it to me?"

"You said it's for protection and I figured you could use all the protection after I… when I'm gone."

Sam fisted the necklace and turned so he was facing his brother. He didn't know whether to be incredulous or angry. He decided he would go with angry. "What? You thought you'd give it to me as a good-bye present?"

Dean shrugged, not looking at him. "I just wanted you to have it, Sammy. That's all."

"No," Sam said, fed up with his brother's helpless attitude.

"No?" Dean raised his eyebrows and the look on his face would've been comical if it weren't for the tired and pained features.

"No," Sam repeated firmly. He handed back the necklace and closed Dean's fist around it with finality. "You're gonna need it for when we go see the specialist. And after."

"Sam…" Dean shifted uneasily.

"Dean," Sam parroted. "You promised me we'd at least try. C'mon, man. Why're you just giving up?"

Dean sighed, closed his eyes and turned to the window. He shrugged again. "I always knew this job would do me in. Why fight it?"

"So, that's it?" Sam was both irritated and frustrated. "Dude, fighting's in your freakin' job description."

Dean shrugged, his long eyelashes fluttering against the window. "You think I don't know that, Sam?" His sigh was scratchy. "I just… I'm tired. But fine, we'll go see your doctor or whatever, alright? Happy?"

"No," Sam said lowly, putting his hand on Dean's upper arm. "I want you to want to see this guy, Dean. I just… I need my big brother. At least give me that much."

Dean was silent, but his eyes were now open. After what felt like eternity to Sam, Dean looked him in the eye. "Ok," he said quietly.

"Ok?" Sam was doubtful.

"Yeah." Dean sighed. "I don't think you should get your hopes up or anything, but yeah, ok, we'll go. And stop channeling Oprah already. It's creepy."

Sam smiled, dimples and all.

Dean squinted his eyes at him before returning his head to the window. "But if he starts poking and prodding, we're leaving."

Sam actually laughed. "Yeah, whatever."

"I'm serious, Sam." Dean's voice was laced with a threat somewhere beneath a weak scowl.

"Dude, I don't think that's exactly what he does anyway." Sam pulled out of the motel parking lot, his hand still on Dean's arm.

Dean had closed his eyes but his brow was furrowed in confusion. "What's that s'posed to mean, Sammy?"

Sam squeezed the arm and smiled. "Don't worry about it, Dean. Go to sleep."

Dean didn't put up a fight, just muttered something unintelligible before relaxing into unconsciousness.

He put in one of Dean's Metallica cassettes and kept it on low so he wouldn't disturb his sleeping brother. Sam pulled onto the main road and began humming to the song. He hadn't told Dean that Roy LeGrange wasn't a doctor, but a faith healer. It was the only way he could've convinced the older hunter to go.

Sam hoped Dean's trust in him wasn't misplaced. He knew his brother kept what little faith he had stored in Sam. Maybe something good would finally come of it because letting Dean down was not an option.

There weren't many certainties in the world of hunting. And right then, he knew only one.

Dean would get better. Sam would make sure of it.

The End.