Title: Links
Characters: Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC
Genre: hurt/comfort/angst
Rating: PG 13
Chapter: 15/15
Warnings: MASSIVE angst and death
Summary: Set right after Jus In Bello... AU from there on...

Usual disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!

A/N I: There is a death in this one. So, prepare yourselves for it. It's the last one. And again, like a year ago, I feel a little sad now that it is over. I really liked writing it in the first place. But reading it and re-editing it, receiving your kind reviews were the best parts. Thank you for following me through to the end. I am planning to do a sequel over the summer. Other readers on UnGen and and LiveJournal have asked for it. As soon as End of the days is done I will start working on it and figure out if there are enough loose ends to make a story from.

A/N II: ~Dean~ in center, ~Amy~ to the left

Links

by RoweenaC

Chapter 15: Savior of the Unjustly Suffering

The moment the last remaining nurse left Dean's ICU-room, Sam gasped out the deep breath he had been holding far too long, if his tunneling vision was anything to go by. He blinked at the blurriness clouding his puffy, hazel eyes and then returned his gaze to his brother's comatose body, his right hand cradling Dean's cold, and surprisingly small, fist. Sam's head throbbed and he recalled the conversation with the young attending doctor after Dean's condition had been stabilized for the time being.

Severe oxygen deficit.

Swallow. Breathe. Numbness.

Probable long-term effects to the brain.

Swallow. Breathe. Numbness.

Might never wake up again, Mr. Jackson.

Swallow. Breathe. Numbness.

Bobby's comforting hand alighted on Sam's shoulder and squeezed gently until the distraught hunter glanced reluctantly away from Dean's face and into Bobby's apprehensive, blue eyes.

"A nurse just told me something, Sam. You know, while I went out for some coffee?"

The gruffness in his voice more pronounced than usual, he motioned to the tray resting on the nightstand carrying two plastic cups of hot, liquid energy.

Sam blinked, no reaction, no change in the catatonic look marring his usually vivid, expressive face. Bobby had to shake the sudden feeling that both brothers appeared to be in a deadly coma; not just the one lying in the bed with all those freakin' tubes sticking in every orifice and every vein; administering vital fluids, drugs and air.

Expecting no further reaction, Bobby continued, his soothing hand never leaving Sam's shoulder.

"Amy called for a nurse, asked if you could come and see her. She seemed to be very upset. Worried about... Dean. The nurse had told her that she'd pass on whatever Amy wants to tell you. But Amy insisted on seeing you ASAP."

Bobby observed Sam's face closely before he went on.

"You feel up to it? I could go..."

Finally pulling out of his stupor, Sam shook his head.

"No... No, I'll go. Could you... could you just sit with Dean, while I'm with Amy? I don't want him to be ... alone. Not after the last time."

Sam's insides churned as he unwillingly remembered his previous coffee run. He had returned from Amy's room an hour before and had sensed fatigue threatening to overwhelm him.

The moment he had opened Dean's door after returning from the cafeteria, he had known something had been terribly wrong with his brother. An icy hand had gripped Sam's heart, attempting to rip it out, and the little hairs on the back of his neck had risen, inducing an unnerving prickling sensation. It had been too familiar. A sense of deja-vu had hit him full force. The sickening similarity to the day he had found his dad lying on the floor of another hospital...

Just at that moment, he had been smashed against the door frame as a large ICU-nurse had barged past him calling, "Code blue" over her shoulder. And then all hell had broken loose...

Sam shook the memories off, rose from the chair and said in a toneless, weary voice, "I'll be quick. Call me if..."

Sam glanced at Dean briefly, then refocused on Bobby, leaving the sentence incomplete, drifting through the silent room.

Bobby simply nodded and took up Sam's vacated chair fixing his attention on the pale man beneath the sheets, the man he had come to love as if he were his own son. He reached for Dean's hand and held it softly, noticing the callused skin and tiny scars populating the back of the younger man's hand.

Sam watched them silently, suppressing the urge to push Bobby unceremoniously from the chair and to reclaim his former post; as continued concern for Dean and jealousy at Bobby's close contact with him waged war against his better judgment.

Sam knew he had to talk to Amy. For Dean's sake. For his own. Therefore, forcefully pulling his gaze away from Bobby and Dean, he turned and headed for the door, refusing to listen to the internal voice compelling him to stay, not to leave his sibling alone again or to suffer the consequences.

****

Amy's head jerked toward the opening door anticipating the appearance of Sam's face in the door frame. She wasn't disappointed, however the hurt and angst emanating from the lanky man shocked her and confirmed her worst fears. Something terrible had happened to Dean. Dean's reaction to her last contact had been horrifying and Amy could see the impact on Sam's haunted face.

"What happened?"

She pulled herself up against the slightly raised upper end of the bed, turquoise eyes peering intently into the young hunter's weary hazel gaze.

Sam's shoulders drooped distinctly, as he had feared this question above all else. Being forced to reiterate Dean's mortal struggle, inevitably resulting in his premature exile to hell, forced Sam to painfully relive the terrible ordeal again. Numbness spread throughout his mind and soul again and he welcomed it as it balanced the panic a little.

"Cardiac arrest. They had to shock him. Three times."

Sam was surprised by the lack of emotion in his voice, contrasting as it did with his internal anguished screaming.

Amy's hand flew to her mouth, muffling her terrified, "Oh god." She swallowed hard against the lump in the back of her throat before she continued.

"I knew something was gonna happen. He was in such pain."

Seeing the look of utter despair in Sam's eyes at her words she sensed she had to elaborate or risk the man falling apart completely.

"I contacted him. Only it was different to the previous times. I couldn't see or speak to him. It was like Dean was enfolded in a black cocoon. So we communicated on a purely emotional level. I know how it sounds but it's hard to describe. Near the end I felt him surrender. All those memories, the hurt, the pain. You know how much he hates himself, Sam?"

Sam blinked. Swallowed. Nodded.

His whole being yearned for his sibling's recovery, for some snarky remark, a prank, even a painful moan. Some way of knowing that Dean was still there, hadn't left him forever. However, the evident agony his brother seemed to be in currently left him hating his selfish desires... If Dean was incapable of mastering his emotions he was definitely close to death. Even the cardiac arrest hadn't pointed that out as clearly as Amy's account of her attempt to connect to Dean.

Panic ensnared Sam, tearing at his heart, clawing at his soul. Feverishly thinking about means to save Dean, he started as Amy's tentative voice sifted through the cloud of angst wrapping around his being.

"Sam? I'm sorry, but I had to tell you. He is in grave danger. I'm not sure he wants to wake up any more."

"No! No. So not gonna happen. He has to wake up. I'll... I'll find a way. There has to be a way!" Trying to evade his better judgment, mocking him as it alluded to the - so far - futile efforts to liberate Dean from the horrendous deal, he shook his head once insistently.

"Sam, I could try to persuade him. Or maybe you could, if I gave you my amulet." She reached for the necklace only to be stopped by his outstretched hand.

"No, I don't know how to use it. There isn't enough time."

She agreed, and then quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

"So, I'll try and talk him out of it again then? Any ideas on how to do it? He seems a very stubborn person judging by the defiant way he fought Lilith in the barn."

Sam's smile illuminated his sorrowful face, restoring his youth and good-looks for the blink of an eye.

"Yeah, he can be a bull-headed pain-in-the-ass sometimes." Sam pondered Amy's request for suitable reasons.

"Tell him, he can't leave me behind. Yeah, I know how it sounds. But that's the best argument. He... he'll never leave me unprotected."

Amy nodded her head, pressing her lips together until they formed a thin, bloodless line. She was touched by Sam's obvious disgust at the need to resort to tricking Dean, by manipulating his ingrained instinct to protect his baby brother.

"Okay, I'll try it... One other thing though, Sam. While I was waiting for you, I contacted a friend from college, he's an archaeologist. I asked him about the deity. He said that the Mesopotamians believed Utu/Shamash to be the savior of people suffering from injustice. You knew about that, right?"

Sam nodded gravely surprised and moved by her ambition to help them. He waited for Amy to go on, sensing she had found out something important.

"My friend mentioned an incantation, a kind of prayer the sufferer is to use. It all comes down to a simple and truthful call for assistance and the god will offer his powers to the praying person. However, the person in dire need had to be pure and tainted, feared and loved, at the same time. And then there was something about two lives are one, living off each other's sacrifice... whatever that means. So I thought, well... I guess, praying isn't a bad idea, huh?"

Sam looked up into her sensitive gaze, and nodded.

****

Amy reached out for Dean's presence, stretching and seeking. However, somehow his essence eluded her grasp every time she was close to establishing a link. To her, it felt like Dean purposefully evaded her efforts this time.

She called out mentally, filling the request with all the urgency she could muster, amending a memory of Sam's worn-out, resigned face.

~DEAN!~

~Leave me alone!~

A terrifying glimpse of Dean brandishing a bloodstained knife at an unseen adversary underlined his retort.

~No, I won't leave. Not until you hear me out.~

Her compassion, her admiration for him suffused her determined reply.

Another menacing stream of pictures flooded back at her, leaving her breathless.

~Dean. Sam sent me; he wants you to know that he needs you. You can't leave him.~

Amy sent her memories of the short conversation with his brother into the impenetrable, suffocating darkness ahead of her.

No reaction this time.

Unsure whether this meant Dean simply refused to answer or that she had finally made an impression and he was listening, Amy put her money on the latter and continued.

~If you go, you'll leave Sam behind unprotected. No big brother to save him.~

Disgusted by her own audacity, she conjured up the terrible memories of Sam's lifeless body, Sam being stabbed, memories Dean had cast at her trying to push her back during their last contact.

A wave of his violent despair and hatred rolled over her; attempting to choke her, yet she steadied herself and, mustering all the strength she possessed, Amy reached out yet again.

~Dean?~

Amy felt Dean's will to fight her abate abruptly and sadness, a deep feeling of loneliness, filled the black void around her, breaking her heart and splitting her soul in half. His emotions resonated agonizingly within her own heart, crushing it.

Softly quivering as if blown by a mild breeze, the picture of a small boy curled up in his parents' king-size bed swam to her. The boy's sad, green eyes spoke volumes of loss, unrequited love and disappointed trust in the good.

Amy felt tears rolling down her cheeks when she mentally moved in closer. She held out her hand toward the boy, beckoning him to her. Proving her hunch right, the boy reacted and rose tentatively from the bed, rubbing at his puffy eyes with both palms.

~Dean? Here, let me help you.~

Walking out of the memory, the pale boy floated in the nothingness surrounding them, his back against the impenetrable black wall.

Fear contorted his round, freckled face, his pout pronounced by his battle against the impending tears brimming in his large emerald eyes. The smudges beneath his eyes were moistened anew when the salty liquid finally streamed down his pallid cheeks.

~I'm so sorry, Dean. Oh god. What happened to you?~

Surprised, Amy realized she could really talk to the child without resorting to memories or feelings as the boy tilted his head upward to look at her; listening silently, unsure whether he could trust her. She smiled encouragingly at the boy, prompting him to voice his deepest desire.

~I wanna go home...
Please, can I go see my Mommy, now?~

His chin quivered with every word while he watched her beseechingly, hiccuping slightly. Compassion and the primal instinct to protect an innocent child opened her heart widely to the lost and lonely kid; and she hunkered down, her face at his eye level. Amy spread her arms; inviting the scared child to throw himself into her sheltering embrace. Hugging him, comforting him through his desperate sobs, she sensed her own tears slowly ebbing away.

Amy found herself praying for the poor boy in her arms, empathizing with the child who had obviously hidden behind the strong, unwavering masks of a heroic hunter and big brother. The terrible ordeal of his medical condition had stripped Dean of his armor, layer by layer, until only the little, scared boy had remained, unprotected and defenseless.

How much could a person endure until they broke irreparably?

Was there still a chance to save Dean, to make him see sense and purpose in his life?

Amy prayed wholeheartedly for the child's sake and for the self-sacrificing man, her savior, who had exchanged his own well-being for hers without a second thought.

~Please, God. Make him realize how important he is.
If I could I would give my life for him.
It's not fair, he's suffered enough, he's given enough.
Please, make him see some sense.
Make him feel how much Sam loves him,
how much he means to his brother
and what a wonderful person he really is.~

The small child in her arms disappeared so suddenly that Amy was almost pitched to the floor. She peered around, stunned. Her gaze locked onto a newly created gap in the towering, now solid, black wall in front of her and she headed toward it; unsure of what might lay beyond, yet desperate enough to find Dean, to save him.

Covering the distance was easier and a lot faster than she had anticipated and thus, Amy found herself standing in front of a fissure in the solid fabric giving way into another sphere of what Amy had come to think of as Dean's soul. Steeling herself against every imaginable event, contemplating shortly that the Winchester-scale of "imaginable" might surpass her own by a considerable length, she moved through.

Light was sparse in this place, yet it was sufficient to show her a cowering form a few steps away from her. Amy turned toward the shape and advanced slowly, alert.

Approaching her target, she recognized Dean's broad shoulders and the back of his neck and another terrified stab at her heart left her staggering for a moment when she noticed how his shoulders were rocking and shuddering convulsively.

He was crying silently,

face averted,

shadowed by the half-light around him.

Even inside his own mind he hid his tears, hid them from himself as if they were despicable, something to be ashamed of.

Amy waited until she had regained her composure a little and attempted to rouse him to her presence; fearful of making him feel embarrassed and thus pushing him further back inside himself away from life, away from Sam.

Yet, Amy couldn't deny that she was scared at the same time that he might attack her, mistaking her for an enemy, an unwanted intruder. This man wasn't the small, harmless boy she had cuddled before. He was a skilled hunter, a warrior, trained for combat.

~Dean?~

A quiet voice, hardly audible yet it caught Dean's attention. He pulled himself upright almost rigidly as if to brace himself to engage an advancing attacker, hunter senses deeply imprinted in his soul.

Dean rose and revolved apprehensively until he faced her, his features remaining shadowed by the twilight, hiding his eyes, yet accentuating his strong, handsome face.

~What are you doing here?~

Resentment and mistrust lashed out at her and made her shrink back a little, remembering her qualms about Dean being a possible threat to her own safety in his current state, she nevertheless stood her ground.

~You know why I am here, Dean. You have to keep fighting. Don't give up. Please.~

~No.
I'm done fighting.~

~Don't say that. You can't just give up! Do you value your own life so little?
How is it, that you are more than willing to sacrifice yourself for the sake of
complete strangers like me but if it comes to you, you just walk away.
Do you honestly think you're not worth the effort?~

~You don't know me.
You don't know me at all, Amy.
And if you did
you'd run away as quickly as your pretty legs could carry you.
'Cos you ain't got no idea what's inside me.
And trust me, you don't wanna know.~

~What?
What's inside you?
What's so terrible you built this fortress around it?~

~You wouldn't understand.~

~Dean, I've seen your worst memories, felt your innermost agony.
Do you really think I wouldn't understand?
Or is it that you yourself don't understand?~

He made a step into the light and she clutched her hand to her mouth, stifling the shriek threatening to burst out. His eyes. Obsidian eyes. Demonic eyes, which she had painfully learned to fear recently.

~You see!?
You understand now, why I can't come back?
Why I can't risk exposing anyone else to the danger of meeting me?
Least of all my brother?
After what I've done, how can I come back like this?
This is what we do: we hunt demons. If it's evil, we kill it!
How the hell am I supposed to confront Sam like this?
He'd have to kill me. And he'd fail at doing it.
Even if he could kill me, how is he to live with that?
No, I can't do this to him.
You wanna know why I am so sure about it?
Because he is my brother...
and I am a friggin' demon.~

Bitterness dripped from his outraged words, his full lips parted in a demonic leer and Amy sensed her determination waver precariously.

~How...
how did that happen Dean?
Is it ... is it real?~

~Why do you care?
What's in it for you?
Wasn't saving your sorry ass enough already?
Why should I believe in your honest intentions?
Nobody ever cared for me if it wasn't to their advantage!~

~That's not true!
That's the demon talking.
Your mother, Sam and surely your father....
they all loved you.~

~Oh yeah?
You sure of that, sweetheart?
'Cos I sure ain't!
My mom died, when I was a kid.
She told me angels were watching over me and look where that got me!
Freakin' angels!
Talk about lying to your kids.
And my dad, oh he was a control freak and a real bastard.
Never so much as a word of affection,
never even a sign of acknowledgement,
never.
Take care of your little brother, boy!~

Dean's voice broke with suppressed emotion, destroying his attempt of a mocking impersonation of his father's deep, commanding growl. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep steadying breath before he continued. Amy watched him, her right hand clutched protectively to her own chest as if to ward off the emotional assaults threatening to break her aching heart.

~And about Sammy?
He was always my responsibility,
as daddy dearest never really cared for us.
I had to do raise him.
I gave up my own childhood for my baby brother.
You wanna know how he rewarded me for that?
He left me.
Went to college.
Left me with dad, after all I sacrificed for him.
Friggin' left me alone...Like mom.
Like...
like dad.~

Tears welled up in the corners of his opaque eyes; his chest recommenced hitching when he finally fell silent. He just stood there, looking at her, the shell of a broken and hurt man.

Against sanity and reason Amy moved closer and she was relieved when he didn't retreat. Raising her arms to hug him, comfort him, regardless of the fear she felt inside. Offering her love and compassion to him. Dean yielded to her proposal, incapable of restraining his hurt any more. Thus, they stood in a desperate embrace, mirroring the previous one, until his tears finally ebbed away, leaving him to sob dryly.

Amy loosened her firm embrace a fraction and looked at Dean.

~I care.
I owe you my life
and I would gladly give it to save yours.
As would Sam.~

Slowly raising his head, Dean searched her gaze. His vulnerability still palpable, he swallowed heavily.

~You... you would?~

Pausing briefly, he shrugged and grinned lopsidedly, trying to recover from his out of character behavior.

~This sharing and caring routine might actually work with the chicks.~

She mirrored his smile and cocked an eyebrow.

~So, what's it gonna be Dean?
You back in the game?~

~Wouldn't make much of a difference any more.
I'm hell-bound anyway.
I'll be like this again within a few weeks.~

He shuddered and cleared his throat.

~But Sam, he needs you.
He is on the verge of insanity, Dean.
There is so much you two have to talk about before...
before you...~

Incapable of voicing his impending death she fell silent again.

~If there was a way to go back,
without taking the demon with me...~

He breathed deeply and contemplated his options.

~I don't really get this bitch.
It's not like a normal possession.
I can hear it inside of me, but I am still in control.
Never heard of a thing like that.~

He shook his head vigorously and suddenly registered Amy's far-away gaze.

~Amy?
You still with me?~

Disgusted by the slight quiver in his hoarse voice, he touched her gently on her forearm to alert her to her surroundings.
Nothing.

Dean squeezed her arm softly, fearful when she didn't respond immediately.
However at his touch, her arm, her whole body seemed to melt away in front of his eyes, leaving his hand to grasp at thin air.
His heart-rate sped up, beating a tattoo inside his chest.

~What the hell?~

Panic rose its ugly face again and he yelled.

~AMY?~

His scream echoed hollowly from around him and then he felt himself being pulled by a strong force connecting to his navel,
pulling him upwards, higher and higher.
Images swirled around him, and eventually his mind shut down at the sudden onslaught to his senses, hurling him into darkness once more.

****

Pain, dull and throbbing, not real agony yet uncomfortable enough to rouse him from his sleepiness. Pain in his throat, his hand and his left shoulder. A sound, annoying, regular, mechanical, coming from his left. He focused on the noise trying to figure out with his bleary brain what it was. When he attempted to turn his head he was stopped by a painful stab in his throat. Something was stuck there, he realized. How the hell was he supposed to breathe with something stuck in his freakin' windpipe? Panic flooded his system with a burst of adrenaline and he forced his eyes open.

Desperately trying to breathe against the foreign object he ended up coughing and gagging.

"Dean? Oh my god. Dean, you're awake! Easy tiger, listen to me! There's a tube in your throat, they had to intubate you. Hang on, I'll get help."

Sam's familiar voice helped to hold panic at bay and Dean blinked avidly to clear his blurry vision, longing to see Sam's face.

Clenching his fist against the urge to retch he started to hum internally, resorting to his proven method to calm himself he counted the beats of Zeppelin's Kashmir, the first song that popped into his mind. 'Good choice, Winchester! Long enough to give Sammy time to find a hot nurse to help you out here!'

Finally, Dean heard the door fly open again and feet approached his bed. Unable to turn his head toward the new arrival without risking another coughing fit, he closed his watering eyes and focused on the song of his favorite band.

"Mr. Jackson? Dean? Can you hear me? I'm Nathalie. Open your eyes, Dean!"

His eyes. Something about his eyes. His heart-beat quickened distinctly and he heard its electronic echo coming from the heart-monitor to his left.

Sam's worried voice called his name, forcing his attention onto the one person he could never deny. Dean surrendered and opened his eyes slowly, cautiously.

"That's it, Dean. Now, look at me. I'm gonna remove the tube now. I need you to help me with it. It won't be pleasant, you hear me? Once I pull you will feel the urge to cough. Go with it, it'll help the tube get out. I'm gonna count to three. Got me?"

'Hot chick. Well done, Sammy.' Nodding at the nurse's questioning gaze, he wished she would hurry the hell up as he knew the drill perfectly well – and detested it.

"Alright let's get this over with, shall we? One... two... three, cough!"

A sucking sensation followed by a faint pop, an overpowering gagging compulsion and then freedom, a gush of cool air soothing the burning, sore flesh in his windpipe coursed down to his lungs. Dean closed his eyes again and felt exhaustion getting the better of him. Fighting the impending restful sleep he blinked and searched for Sam. There he was. Face tight with apprehension and sorrow, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, dark shadows highlighting the hazel color of the irises. He was pale, too pale. And he had obviously been crying. His nose still a little snotty, he snuffled softly. But he smiled. Relief and happiness deepened his dimples making him look like a small kid about to open a very tasty lollipop after a severe case of the stomach flu.

"I'm here, Dean. Sleep. You need it," his low soft voice soothed the emotional thunderstorm running riot within Dean.

"Sam, my eyes. What about my eyes?"

Dean's voice rasped and his tongue felt too big for his mouth, yet the disturbing thought of his (obsidian) eyes forced him to speak nonetheless.

"What about them Dean? Something wrong? Can you see?"

The sudden panic lacing his baby brother's words coerced Dean to elaborate despite his sore throat.

"Unfortunately, I can see your fugly, gigantic head, jerk! My eyes, dude, they are normal, right?"

Sam contemplated Dean's words for a second as he had heard the despair Dean couldn't quite keep out of them, and then he answered truthfully.

"You look like crap, Dean. But your eyes are as beautiful as ever. So, no problem with the chicks, I figure... Bitch!"

The irony and the attempt at the usual brotherly banter, eased Dean's worries as he knew Sam would never revert to their usual quip if there were something wrong with him. Therefore, he finally closed his eyes, welcoming sweet oblivion, rest and relaxation in its tow.

****

Sam watched his brother intently. He had finally surrendered to Bobby's beseeching attempts to go and grab some sleep after Dean had miraculously regained consciousness.

That had been 24 hours ago of which Sam had slept 18 without waking once. Feeling re-energized and taking the time to relish a long hot shower, Sam had driven back to the hospital to spell Bobby at sitting with Dean. A recognizable swing in his step, his path had led toward Dean's room and he had sped up, when Nathalie had crossed his way and had held him back, sorrow on her face. Feeling a cold hand grip his heart, his mind had raced with possible complications in Dean's health.

"Sam, I need to speak with you. Got a minute?"

Foreboding clouding his mood, he had nodded curtly and had followed her to the nurse's station.

"Sure. Something wrong with Dean?" he had asked, feeling a direct approach was the best.

"No, it's Amy. Sam, she died last night."

Knees wobbling, vision blurring, Sam had clutched the counter for support.

"What? But how's that possible? She was fine when I left her after dinner."

"Honestly, nobody understands it. One minute, she was recovering really fast, the next she developed a high fever and slipped into a coma. She never regained consciousness."

"No... Oh, god.... I'm so sorry.... Did her family arrive in time?" His voice had shaken with barely disguised emotion and he had felt guilt building up inside him. Had he been he responsible for this?

"That's part of the problem. Obviously, she's got no-one, we couldn't find her family..."

Nathalie examined Sam's grief-stricken face closely. This man had endured so much over the last few days. She didn't know how he found the strength to put up with it.

Marveling at the enigma that was Sam, she had continued, carefully choosing her words to avoid adding pressure to his burdened conscience, "The hospital will make the necessary arrangements for her funeral, but I thought about her belongings. I know, how much you liked her and you guys almost sacrificed yourselves trying to save her from the kidnappers. She told me, how Dean nearly died, carrying her to the car. Amy really appreciated what you did for her. I think she would have wanted you to have this."

Pulling the amulet from her pocket, she had smiled sadly.

Sam's ability to speak had left him completely at that. He had nodded again, feeling awkward at his lack of words and Nathalie had passed him the golden pendant.

"Hey, dude. You with me?" Sam's head whirled around at Dean's abrupt query. Dwelling on the most recent events Sam had stood up from his chair and wandered off toward the window while his weak brother had slept tightly, head lolling slightly to his right shoulder.

"Good to see you, man. You done sleeping, princess Samantha?" Yawning widely Dean eyed his brother thoroughly. The snark in Dean's drowsy words dismally failed to achieve its goal as Sam's face remained grave.

"We have to talk, Dean."

Raising an eyebrow, Dean replied, "Thought we were talking already. Must be the coma."

"Zip it, Dean. It's serious."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Sammy. But a coma is a very serious thing."

Displeasure at Sam's unwillingness to follow his lead made Dean twitch inside. He needed to feel happy for a little time longer, just a short space of time. Begging Sam inwardly to shut up about whatever concerned him, he knew he would hear it all sooner or later. He gave in.

"Spill it."

"Amy's dead."

Dean's insides turned to ice and he jerked in response, resulting in pulling at the stitches in his shoulder enhancing the omnipresent throb.

"What? You gotta be kidding me, Sam. That's so not funny!" His voice barely audible, the imminent threat wasn't missed by Sam.

"No kidding. She died last night. Slipped into a coma with a high fever. That sound familiar to you?"

Dean swallowed dryly, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat. Flashes of memories flooded his brain, weakening and tormenting his still sore soul. I owe you my life and I would gladly give it to save yours.

"Dean, are you okay? Jeez, are you gonna be sick? You're white as a sheet!"

"'M fine. Just gimme a sec."

"Yeah, sure. Like you ever told the truth about that. You're not fine, Dean. I can see it in your eyes. I always could."

'My freaking eyes. My black eyes. What the hell is going on here?'

"I haven't told you everything, yet Dean. Amy has ... had a necklace just like yours."

"Yeah, she showed me. When she... she came into my dream. Sam, you really think there is something supernatural to the thing?"

Suddenly feeling tainted; Dean pulled at his amulet.

"Don't Dean, it's okay. Bobby found out about the link between the two amulets. And I came up with the idea to use it to speak to you, when you were... after you..."

Sam was incapable of continuing, the memory of Dean being resuscitated was still too painful.

Suddenly feeling the urge to get it over with, he continued in a low, exasperated voice, "Amy told me, she had found out about an incantation. A prayer to the god Utu. He was the reputed Savior of people suffering injustice. Bobby agreed on that and he said something about freeing people from the demon's grasp. So, we figured, we use it on you. To save you. The infection in your blood was caused by a virus, a demonic virus. The demon's grasp. And Amy volunteered. I never imagined she would... die." ...two lives are one, living off each other's sacrifice...

Dean had remained silent during Sam's account but now, he exploded.

"What did I tell you about meddling with this supernatural crap, Sammy? Did you forget about dad? About my friggin' deal? Nothing good comes out of it! Dammit!"

"Dean, you almost died." Sam kept his gaze averted, attempting to remain in control.

"I don't care, dammit!" Dean winced at the pain stabbing at his shoulder and sure enough after a quick glance at it, he recognized a small crimson spot blooming on the clean dressings. Pushing his ache to the back of his mind, a reflex rather than a conscious effort, Dean returned his pale green eyes to his brother.

"That's exactly my point, Dean. You don't care about yourself. Do you ever think about that, Dean? Why doesn't your life matter to you? I love you, man. There, you happy? I couldn't bear the thought of your death. So I did what you'd have done, had it been me lying in that bed, needles and tubes puncturing my body!"

Anger abating rapidly, emotional fatigue washing over him, Sam stood, shoulders hunched, face distraught, waiting for the inescapable reprimand.

Struggling for control and reason, Dean began, "Sam. I know why you did it. Believe me, I do. But how are we supposed to live with this. How are you? 'Cos, I'll be gone in a few weeks. But you have to live with that for the rest of your life. How could you do this to yourself?"

"I didn't know."...two lives are one, living off each other's sacrifice...

"Don't you dare say that, hell, I taught you better than that." Dean's head fell back to the pillows and he closed his eyes. His own voice screaming inside his mind 'No more!' out of refusal and despair. How much more did they have to endure? How many people had to sacrifice themselves before this would be over? Mom, Dad, Amy. They had died because of him. He closed his eyes before the first tear could trickle down his cheek and tried to erase the memories flashing inside of his mind, attempting to push them back behind the ruins of the formerly strong, protective wall. Dean took a deep breath and turned his head away from his brother, wishing to be alone for the first time in his torturous life.

Sam stared out of the window again. His heart had clenched painfully when Dean had referred to the little time they had left together. Keeping secrets from his brother was never a good idea, yet he shoved his right hand inside his pocket and closed it around the other amulet. The demon's grasp. It had to work. It had to. Or Amy would have died in vain.

~~~~~*~~~~~
~The End~

End Note: Ok. This is all I got. Thanks for reading. And lemme know if y'all liked it! I hope to see you on my other stories!