Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

Author's Note: I'm not extremely pleased to the end of this, because it's really sudden, but it's the best that I could do. The original version of this chapter was three times this length and had a much better ending, but alas, as nice as technology is, it does tend to crash in the middle of huge thunderstorms that cut all your power and don't do auto-recovery. And then you realize that you were an idiot and forgot to hit CTRL-S to save it before that happened and therefore lost the entire thing. Sigh. Oh well. This is a decent epilogue for the most part, outside of the really sudden end.

Thank you all for reading and leaving such kind reviews. I am glad that I decided to post this story after all. You guys make me feel so happy!

For more Hurt!Sam and Angst!Dean, check out You Found Me. It's pretty much my version of season 5 of SN, so you guys might enjoy it. There will be more Sam in that story then there was in this one.

One mroe thing... this chapter is told from Sam's POV. It's pretty much his recollection of what happened throughout the entire story, so it's going to be the longest chapter (I think this one hit seven pages...) in the story.

Summary: A hunt goes wrong, landing both Winchesters in the hospital, one within an inch of death, the other regretting all the choices he has made. With help from an angel, Dean gets to see what would have happened if Jake hadn't killed Sam all those years ago in Cold Oak.

Sam knew he was fighting a losing battle. The blood seeping from the wounds on his face and the mind-numbing pain in his chest were proof to that statement. He wasn't going to win this fight. But that didn't mean he wasn't going down quietly. No, there was no way that he was dying without taking a couple of demons with him.

"NO!" he heard Dean yell.

Is he trying to get killed? Sam thought angrily. The anger quickly turned into stunned disbelief as he felt an excruciating pain in his gut. He looked down, feeling slightly stupid as he watched the blood begin to pour out of the gash in his stomach. It burned like Hell and made him slightly dizzy when he tried to move, but Sam was a master of pain. He sucked in his breath and managed to send one of the demons holding him captive sprawling to the ground.

A glint of silver caught Sam's eye as he miraculously managed to break free of his captors. His breath caught in his throat as he saw where the demon was aiming.

"Watch out, Dean!" he shouted.

His cry of warning cost him the freedom he had spent so much precious energy trying to gain. He was instantly pinned against the cave wall again at the mercy of an angered werewolf and a demon.

"Hang on, Sam!" Dean yelled in the distance.

Sam let out a mental sigh of relief, one that quickly vanished as there was a ripping sensation in his arm followed by a sharp pain in his shoulder. He groaned as black spots started to cover his vision. He heard Dean cock the gun and prayed that that meant the pain would end soon. Oddly enough, it did. The werewolf pinning him to the wall fell to the ground, dead as a doornail. The remaining demon fled from the cave, obviously terrified of Sam. In any other circumstances, Sam might have managed a chuckle.

Sam blinked blood out of his eyes, searching for his brother. He found Dean's familiar shape standing frozen in the middle of the cave, looking at the cave entrance with an expression of disbelief.

Sam couldn't hold on much longer. He was already beginning to black out. He needed Dean, even after everything he said otherwise recently. He needed his brother to just be his brother again.

"Dean," he managed to say.

Dean turned to him. And in the instant his green eyes met with Sam's own, Sam felt safe.

He was distantly aware of Dean murmuring something to him and strong, warm arms pulling him closer, but the last thing he truly remembered was the smell of the leather jacket that Dean always wore and the sound of Dean's soothing voice. Then, the blackness he had been fighting so hard against engulfed him.

"D-n?"

Panic filled him as he called out for Dean and there was no reply. Dean always answered him. Where was Dean?

"Relax, Sam," a soothing voice said from somewhere above him.

Sam didn't—it wasn't the voice he needed to hear. He continued to struggle against the overwhelming blackness.

Warmth spread over him as an unfamiliar hand took his own. The pain that had been there was suddenly gone. Sam lost all consciousness again.

"De-?"

Sam fought back to consciousness again, this time managing to open his eyes. He was greeted with blurred images and bright lights. Stabs of disappointment and fear shot through him at equal measures. There was someone on the edge of his bed, but it wasn't Dean.

"He's okay, son," the familiar voice said. It was Bobby. "He's just getting some rest in the next room."

Sam blinked, trying to bring the room into focus. He only succeeded in giving himself a headache with the blinding lights and the pain that made itself known the longer he was conscious.

"Hurts," he mumbled.

Bobby said something about nurses and morphine, but Sam didn't catch any of it as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Sam couldn't make his mouth work, nor could he open his eyes. He was only vaguely aware of what was going on around him. It sounded as though there were two people in the room, discussing him. One sounded grim, the other surprised. Sam felt the familiar surge of letdown when he realized neither voice belonged to his brother. He was just about to drift back to sleep when a phrase caught his attention.

"I have no idea how the Hell he made it," the first voice said. "That knife wound should have killed him."

"It's a damn miracle, I'd say," the second person said. "I think we should just leave it at that."

Sam's blood went cold. Oh no, he thought. This is not happening again. But before he could fully wake up, sleep overwhelmed him once more.

The room was dark when Sam finally fought his way back to consciousness. The only light came from the flickering television set that illuminated a person stretched out uncomfortably on one of the plastic hospital chairs beside his bedside. Sam recognized the person instantly.

"D-n?"

He hated the fact that he could barely get his brother's name out. He wondered if Dean heard that pathetic whimper—Sam hardly heard it. But then, this was Dean he was asking for. Dean always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to Sam.

"Hey," Dean said conversationally. There was a low curse followed by a gentle click and the television was shut off, sending Sam into darkness once again. But this was a darkness he wasn't afraid of because Dean was there. Dean could help him fight it.

"Wt-er?" Sam asked.

Almost instantly, a cup of cool, precious water appeared and found its way to his mouth. Sam drank greedily, feeling as though he had been deprived of water for a very long time.

"Take it easy," Dean said from somewhere above him as Sam coughed when the water went down wrong.

"Thanks," Sam whispered hoarsely once he was done with the water. He winced; his mouth felt like sandpaper even after the water.

"Are you okay?" Dean questioned from somewhere to Sam's left. Sam could hardly see three feet in any direction.

"M' fine," he mumbled. He was feeling no pain, so it was at least the partial truth. He didn't have to tell Dean that he felt like utter shit about everything that had happened between them recently.

"Sure you are," Dean said disbelievingly. "I'm sure everyone who gets stabbed with a knife, tortured by demons, and then has to go through a three hour helicopter flight over the frigging mountains while on the verge of massive cardiac arrest is perfectly fine."

"Are we talking about me or you?" Sam joked weakly.

"You're a bitch, you know that?" Dean asked sourly, but there was a slight teasing note to his voice as well.

"Seriously, Dean, I feel fine," Sam murmured. Physically, at least, he added silently. Mentally… not so much.

"Huh. Must be the morphine and all the other drugs they have you on," Dean muttered. "You have more drugs in you right now than a freaking CVS."

"Good to know, cause I think I would be seriously hurting if I wasn't on all those drugs," Sam admitted.

He remembered most of what happened to him in that cave, and shuddered at the memories. He wanted to block out the look of absolute horror on Dean's face as the knife dug into Sam's stomach possibly forever. It reminded Sam too much of what happened at Cold Oak, a memory Sam never wanted to revisit. Too many bad things had happened since then, all caused by his death.

"We need to talk about this," Dean said quietly. Sam knew he wasn't talking just about what had happened during the hunt—he was talking about the whole deal with Ruby, the apocalypse, and the demon blood.

"I know," Sam murmured. He winced as he shifted ever so slightly, trying to get more comfortable. It was impossible; he had so many wires and needles jammed into him at the moment that comfort was beyond his reach.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked.

"Damn needles," Sam muttered. He shifted again and grimaced. "I freaking hate needles."

Dean snorted a laugh.

"You go up against a werewolf and four demons single handedly without flipping out, you hunt things that would make most people wet themselves without one scream, and yet you hate needles," he said shaking his head. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"For hating needles or for drinking demon blood?" Sam questioned dryly.

The mood shifted again. It had been light and teasing, but now it was hyper tense and on edge. The dangerous dance around the issues at hand had begun. It was only a matter of time before one of them made a wrong step and the entire thing blew up in their faces. Again.

"Sammy," Dean pleaded.

Sam was shocked at the emotion he heard in the two syllables that made up his nickname. He thought Dean would have just leapt right in and told him straight out that he was a moron for drinking demon blood. But it sounded as though Dean was actually trying to make Sam feel better, that he was ignoring his hunter instincts to kill the thing Sam had become and following his big brother instincts that said to try and save Sam, no matter how hopeless it seemed. It was impossible, though. Dean hadn't been listening to the latter instincts since he had come back from Hell.

"I don't know why I did it," Sam said.

He suddenly felt the need to explain what had been going on in his head over the past year. He felt as though he never had had the chance to do so, that he and Dean hadn't really let each other explain their reasoning behind their decisions the way they used to.

"I do," Dean murmured.

Sam wished, despite his now aching head, that the lights were on, that he could see Dean's face and know what his brother was thinking. He had somehow retained the ability to read his brother, despite the gulf that had opened up in between them. It was a welcome tool as of late, when Dean didn't actually speak anymore, but it was useless now that Sam couldn't see his brother's face. He didn't understand the saddened tone in which Dean spoke. He didn't understand the outline of Dean's slumped shoulders. It was almost as if Dean thought he had failed at something.

"What?"

Sam somehow managed to put his confusion into that single word. He knew Dean would understand.

"I understand why you did the things you did," Dean elaborated. "You were scared as Hell because you were alone, you had no one to turn to, and you had no idea what the Hell to do anymore. You were desperate and then that bitch showed up and offered you the golden ticket to solve all your problems. She didn't tell you that it wasn't actually a golden ticket, more like the forbidden fruit, but that's what happened. I know, I've been there, only I knew what I was getting into. Sort of, anyway."

Sam wasn't sure what surprised him the most—the Wizard of Oz reference, the biblical knowledge coming from Dean, or just the honest, open way Dean was speaking—but he was in shock. What Dean had said was the truth—Sam had been scared—but that didn't just give him an automatic freebie. What he had done was wrong, Dean had told him that several times before, but why was his brother all of a sudden accepting it?

"That's not an excuse, Dean," Sam said. "I messed up royally."

"Yeah, you did," Dean agreed bluntly. "I'm not going to lie to you. Drinking demon blood? That's not like the Sam I know. But it's nothing life threatening. Hell, the demon blood has saved your life more times than I can count. Not only recently when all you had was that bitch there to protect you, but back in River Grove with the demonic virus. Remember that? We didn't know why you were immune. I guess this is our answer."

Sam remembered every single detail from that hunt in Oregon. He also remembered everything that happened directly after that hunt. Especially one thing in particular.

"I also remember that you promised Dad that you'd kill me if I ever went dark side," Sam said quietly.

"Sam, everyone makes stupid mistakes, okay? But you have not gone dark side," Dean said fiercely.

Sam was taken aback by the intensity in his brother's voice. He sounded so much like the Dean before Hell, the one that would stop at nothing to save Sam's life, the Dean that Sam had been searching for ever since he had come back from Hell.

"Yes, I have, Dean," Sam whispered.

He didn't want to die, but he didn't want to hurt anyone else either. He had already done enough damage.

"You haven't used your powers to kill anyone, Sam," Dean argued. "Well, you've killed demons, but that's not the point. You use your powers to get rid of evil, and to me, that's not going dark side. That's being smart. Drinking demon blood on the other hand, that's not smart. But you're bound to make stupid mistakes; that's why God gave you an older brother who can beat you into line when you make those stupid mistakes."

Sam felt like crying. It wasn't just because of the pain that was beginning to seep into his bones as the morphine wore off. It was also because up until this moment, Sam hadn't realized just how much he had missed his older brother. He missed this Dean, the one who was willing to fight with everything he had to keep Sam, Sam. Sam needed that in his life, now more than ever. He needed his brother. And he had found him.

Then a thought hit him. How long was this going to last? He remembered the two people in his room earlier saying that it was a freaking miracle that he had survived because of the extensive damage in his stomach area (he couldn't help but think that was ironic). How else could he have survived if Dean hadn't made a deal? Dean was going to Hell. Again.

Sam suddenly couldn't breathe at the thought of Dean going to Hell. He couldn't accept it. He couldn't lose his brother again. Not right after he found him.

"Sam? Sammy? Sam! Breathe, damn it!"

Sam fought hard to focus on his brother's voice, but it was a losing battle. He started to hyperventilate, bringing out an excruciating pain in his ribcage.

"SAM!" was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness again.

Sam woke up again with something over his face that made him sound like Darth Vader every time he breathed. He lifted his hand and felt the hard plastic and Velcro straps of an oxygen mask.

"Don't rip it off," Dean's voice cautioned from somewhere nearby. It sounded more exhausted then before.

Sam blinked and turned his head, letting his hand drop off to his side as he finally laid eyes on his brother. Someone had turned on the light, so he got a firsthand look at just how bad Dean really was. There were dark circles underneath his expressionless green eyes. There was a thick white cast wrapped around one of his wrists. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days and his hair was limp and oily, as if he hadn't showered.

"You look like Hell," Sam said. His voice was muffled through the oxygen mask, but the slight smirk on Dean's face told Sam that his brother understood.

"I look better than you do, princess," Dean said his smirk widening. "You really are a girl, going all weak at the knees and out of breath every time I start a chick-flick moment with you. What am I going to do with you?"

Sam heard the underlying concern beneath the gentle teasing. He also heard the question of what the Hell happened that made you freak out in the amused tones.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"You had a panic attack of some kind," Dean said with a shrug. "Damned if I know what goes on in that geeky head of yours. The doc tried to throw me out. Said I wasn't a good influence on you. I threatened him with bodily harm and a trip from Bobby and he quit throwing around those orders. Guess Bobby really does scare all."

"You okay?" Sam asked looking at the white cast on Dean's wrist.

"I'm fine," Dean said shifting his weight and leaning forward so his elbows were resting on Sam's bed. "I got a broken wrist in the middle of a rockslide. Also gave myself a concussion, but I've had more concussions then I can count. How about you? Are you okay?"

"Not really," Sam said honestly, hating the fact that he sounded like he was Darth Vader. He felt like Darth Vader. He wondered absently if Dean would buy him a light saber like the one he had had when he was six and obsessed with Star Wars.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked. The teasing lilt was gone from his voice.

"You," Sam said bluntly. He figured he might as well not beat around the bush. Besides, Dean had been perfectly honest with him earlier. He needed to extend to same courtesy.

"What?" Dean was obviously confused and hurt. He hadn't hidden his emotions behind that brick wall of his yet. That was good. Sam needed to be able to read his brother's exact reaction to what he was going to say next.

"You made another deal, didn't you?" Sam asked his voice sharp with disbelief. "Don't bother trying to lie; I heard the doctors talking earlier. I wasn't supposed to survive. The knife wound was fatal, Dean."

"I didn't make a deal, Sam," Dean said his green eyes darkening with emotion. "I, uh, I didn't get the chance. Castiel stepped in and saved your life."

Sam stared at Dean in confusion. What the hell was going on? There was something Dean wasn't telling him, that much was obvious, but it was also true that Dean hadn't made a deal. His brother really sucked at lying, especially to Sam.

"Look, Sam, I said some things that I regret now about some stuff and so Castiel decided it was time to intervene," Dean said hurriedly. "He put me into this virtual reality thing, like when he sent me back in time to try and find out Azazel's game plan, only this time I ended up in Co-… South Dakota."

Sam felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach as he realized just what Dean meant and what he must have said for Castiel to do that. Dean thought it would have been better if he hadn't made the deal. None of this would have happened.

He's right, Sam thought sadly. He shouldn't have made the deal.

"I'm sorry," Sam said hollowly, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry that you had to make the deal. I'm sorry you had to go to Hell for me."

"What? No, Sam, that's not what I meant. That's not what I said," Dean said quickly. "I was in a really bad place three nights ago, Sammy. The doctor had just told me you weren't going to make it, I was pissed at you for a lot of reasons, and Castiel was there and I got mad at him and started yelling things that I didn't mean. I told him that if you hadn't died in Cold Oak, then things would have been better off."

"They would have been," Sam said quietly. "You would have never gone to Hell."

"But you would have," Dean said softly. "I got the chance to see what life would have been like and I didn't like it. I would rather have Hell then know what you would have gone through for me."

"You honestly think you're not worth it," Sam said sadly. "You think you're not worth it, but I am. It's no wonder why people call me the smart one. You're better than I am, Dean."

"No, I'm not," Dean said firmly. "And since I'm the older brother, that's what goes."

"That's a bunch of crap, Dean," Sam said. "That has never worked."

"What are you talking about? That always works!" Dean said with a grin.

Sam was taken aback by what happened next. He knew Dean was too. It had been nearly a year since their brotherly banter.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

And with that, things might not have been perfect, but Sam and Dean were on their way back to being brothers again.