Title: Don't Let Me Go
Author: agt_spooky
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: incest
Rating: PG
Summary: Missing scenes from Faith and a epilogue, with Wincest .


Sam cast a worried glance over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs and out of the house. His brother was down there alone with that thing, and only one taser left. He had to get back down there. Now. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him that something was wrong.

"C'mon, kids! Go, go, go!"

Sam quickly herded the frightened children over to the Impala and opened the door. They tumbled inside and into the backseat, shaking, eyes wide with fear.

"It's Ok, everything's all right now," Sam tried to calm them. "Just stay here, I'll be back."

And with that the door was closing and Sam was racing back into the house, the feeling of dread threatening to overwhelming him. He had to get to his brother.

Thundering down the stairs to the basement, Sam froze at the site that greeted him. The rawhead and his brother, both lying unmoving upon the cold, concrete floor.


Sam's heart was in his throat as he raced to his brother's side. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the wetness soaking through his jeans, and lifted Dean up. The older man's head slumped to the side, his eyes still closed.

Sam shifted positions, raising his brother up more, and his knee bumped against something. Looking down, Sam saw the taser, it's wires trailing through the water that Dean lay in. Realization set in instantaneously.

"No! No! Dean, please! Open your eyes!"

But his brother remained pale and still, cradled in Sam's arms. Moving quickly, refusing to believe that Dean was dead, Sam pulled him out of the water and lay him flat on his back.

Putting his head to Dean's chest, Sam listened desperately for a heartbeat.


Fingers against the side of Dean's neck.


"NO!" The anguished cry was torn from Sam's throat.

This can't be happening. This can't be happening.

Trying to control his rising panic, Sam went into action. He'd learned how to do CPR when he was newly turned 13 years old, when his arms were finally strong enough. John Winchester had drilled the life saving technique into both his sons. But miraculously, even after living this dangerous life for so long, Sam had never needed to use it.

Now his brother's life depended on it.

He tilted Dean's head back, opening his mouth and his airway. Leaning down, pinching his brother's nose closed, he blew two breaths into Dean's lungs. Sam saw his chest rise and fall each time, a good sign. Straightening up, Sam brought his hands together and locked his arms. He began pumping his brother's chest in a steady rhythm.

"Fight, Dean! Please!" Sam cried, feeling a tear break free. "Don't you go!"

Bending down once more, Sam blew another two breaths into Dean's mouth.

"Come on, come on!" Sam pleaded with his brother, crying freely now. "Don't you do this, damn you!" Back to the chest compressions, Sam finished his third when he saw Dean's head jerk slightly.

Stopping the compressions, Sam put his face next to Dean's, fingers feeling for a pulse on his neck. There! So faint, but there. Dean was alive.

"Dean! Dean! Can you hear me?" Sam's hand was on the side of Dean's face, thumb stroking his cheek.

Dean's eyelids fluttered and barely opened. Unfocused green eyes looked back at him.

"Sa-" Dean breathed, his hand bumping against Sam's leg.

Sam let out a sob of relief at Dean's soft voice. His brother was back. Sam lifted Dean's upper body into his arms. One hand stroked Dean's hair.

"Stay with me, Dean, Ok?" Sam said through his tears. "Keep your eyes open for me."

Sam could tell it was an effort for Dean not to close his eyes again. "I've got to get you out of here, get you to a hospital. I'm gonna pick you up, don't try and help, Ok? Let me do the work."

Dean gave a small nod and rested his head against Sam's chest. Sam shifted, one arm under Dean's knees, the other under his shoulders. With a small grunt, Sam stood, holding Dean in his arms. Though Sam was taller than his older brother, Dean was solidly built, and it was with some effort that Sam made his way slowly up the old basement stairs.

Sam was breathing heavy when he finally reached the car, the children still huddled in the corner of the backseat.

"Dean, I need to put you down, stand you up so I can open the door," Sam explained. "Can you stand for just a minute?"

Another small nod and Dean lifted his head away from Sam's chest.

"Ok, here we go," Sam said, releasing his hold behind Dean's knees, letting his brother's legs touch the ground.

Dean immediately started to sag, and Sam propped him against the side of the car, his own body holding Dean's in place. It was awkward, but Sam only needed one hand free to wrench open the car door.

He got Dean to sit down on the front seat, then swung his brother's legs in and quickly shut the door. Sam sprinted around the front of the car, jerking the door open and throwing himself into the seat. He arranged Dean so that he was leaning against the door, his head on the window, then searched his pockets for the car keys.

His hands were shaking as he inserted the key in the ignition and fired up the Impala, the engine roaring to life. He pulled out from in front of the house as quickly as he could, afraid the tires may get stuck in all the mud if he went too fast. Once on the main road, though, he floored the classic car, racing towards the center of town, and the hospital he remembered passing on the way in through town.

Sam looked over at Dean and saw with relief that his eyes were open. Even in the darkness of the car, Sam could see that Dean was so pale, his forehead furrowed in pain. Swallowing thickly, Sam reached over and took Dean's hand in his. Dean tried to smile and weakly squeezed Sam's hand. Neither let go until Sam squealed to a stop in front of the Emergency entrance at the hospital.

Sam was out of the car in a flash, bursting through the ER doors. "I need a doctor!" he yelled. "Someone, please!"

The nurse at the reception desk stood up and Sam directed his attention at her. "It's my brother, please, he's hurt! He's in my car."

She nodded and called for an orderly with a gurney and Sam ran back out to the car. He opened the passenger door slowly, catching Dean's body as it started to tip out of the car.

"I've got you, I've got you. We're at the hospital, Dean. You're gonna be all right, you hear me?"

Dean put his hand on the center of his chest. "It - it hurts, Sam..." he whispered.

Before Sam could respond, the orderly was there with the gurney and the two of them were lifting Dean up on to it. As they were wheeling him inside, Dean reached out his hand towards his brother. Sam grasped it tightly with both of his, and for the first time, he saw fear in his brother's eyes.


As Dean was being taken into an exam room, an ER doctor appeared at Sam's side. The dark-skinned man listened intently as Sam described Dean's electrocution and how he performed CPR. The doctor thanked Sam and promised to update him as soon as possible. As he hurried off to the exam room with Dean, Sam jogged back outside to the car, where the children were sitting so patiently in the backseat.

Sam reached his hand inside and beckoned to them. "It's Ok. You can come out now."

The boy and girl crawled out, then stuck close to Sam's legs. He put a hand on each of their backs and guided them inside the hospital, up to the registration desk.

"I need to have a doctor look at them, please," he said to the nurse. "And...the police need to be called."


"I know it's not easy, but I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it."

"Watch me."


It was nearly 2am when Sam returned to the hospital. After the conversation with Dean he went in search of his doctor, to get specifics on his brother's condition. His next stop was the only motel in town, the SleepyTyme Inn. He got himself a room and unpacked their gear, automatically bringing in Dean's duffle bag as well.

Sam set up his laptop on the bed and immediately went to work, scouring medical websites. He kept at it until his eyes were dry and scratchy and his eyelids began to droop. The days events were finally catching up with him, his body needing to rest. Sighing with frustration, but realizing that he could no longer concentrate properly, he shut down his computer and packed it away.

As he sat back down on the bed, his gaze fell on the other, unoccupied one, across from him. Where his brother should be.

Traveling together now, all these months, always sharing a room, and most often a bed, had become comforting to Sam. These awful, crappy motel rooms with the stained carpeting and thin curtains became a refuge for them. In there, at night, they could forget about the monsters outside the door, just for a little while, wrapped in each other's arms.

And now Dean was dying. They needed to be together now more than ever.

Sam stood, grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

He gave the nurse what Dean called his ‘puppy-dog eyes' and she let him go in to see Dean, as long as he promised not to wake him up. Sam thanked her earnestly and walked down the hall to his brother's room.

He pushed open the door slowly, so as to not make any noise, then moved quietly to Dean's bedside.

It was dark in the room, save for the muted light that was on above Dean's head. The blinds were still open, and Sam could see the moon.

Dean lay on his back, head tipped to his left, eyes closed, breathing evenly. The heart monitor beeped softly next to him. Sam took a stuttering breath as he watched his brother sleeping, face pale, dark patches under his eyes...more fragile than he had ever seen him.

Sam was scared, and so was Dean. His crap earlier, the stupid jokes about the car, burial or cremation...he wasn't fooling anyone, least of all Sam. No, Sam had looked into his brother's eyes as he lay on the gurney. For the first time in his life, Dean was afraid.

Sam carefully lowered the side rail and sat down in the chair next to the bed. For a long moment he watched his brother sleeping. Weeks, the doctor had said. Just a few weeks, then Dean would be gone.

It wasn't fair! Sam's mind screamed. Not when they'd just found each other again after so many years apart.

Sam reached out and lay a hand gently on Dean's chest, his palm over his brother's beautiful, damaged heart. He hung his head at the sting of tears, helpless to stop them.

"Don't leave me," Sam whispered brokenly.

Dean stirred at Sam's soft voice and his eyes opened slowly. "Sam?" he questioned, voice still thick with sleep.

Sam raised his head, his other hand wiping away his tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

Dean shook his head. "No, it's Ok. I'm - I'm glad you're here," he answered honestly. Because here, in the quiet, in the dark, was not the place for macho bravado bullshit. Only for the truth.

Sam leaned over and placed his lips against Dean's. His brother returned the gentle kiss, his hand rising up to thread through Sam's hair.

They parted a moment later, speaking at the same time.

"I love you."

Dean opened his mouth to say something else, but then closed it again. His jaw clenched and his eyes suddenly shone with moisture. When he spoke, his voice was rough.

"I'm scared, Sam," he finally admitted. "I don't wanna die." He put his hand over Sam's where it still rested on his chest. "Please, Sam...don't let me go."

Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat at his brother's plea. "I won't. I swear to you, Dean. I'll do whatever it takes. I won't let you die. I promise. I won't let you go."

Dean gave a small smile at Sam's vow, then his eyes started to slide shut, his weakened body calling him back to sleep. "Stay with me?" he murmured.

"Like you have to ask," Sam replied.

Unwilling to take his hand from Dean's, he simply bent his upper body over and pillowed his head on his other arm on top of the mattress. Dean's breath was soft on his face, the feel of his heartbeat under his palm. Sam closed his eyes and let the sensations lull him to sleep.


It was around 6am when Sam was roused from his short rest by the sounds of doctors and nurses in the hallway, starting their day.

He opened his eyes and raised up, suppressing a groan. His back and neck were stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position. He looked at Dean, who was still sleeping and regretfully slipped his hand from beneath his brother's. He stood and stretched, then pulled the blanket up to Dean's shoulders. Bending over, he placed a kiss on Dean's forehead. Then he turned and left the room, glancing at his sleeping brother once more before the door closed.

He had work to do.


And work is what he did, tirelessly, for the next three days. He barely ate, and forgot what sleep was.

He poured over medical journals and books at the local library, spoke with as many specialists over the phone as he could find, and searched hundreds of websites.

But he came up empty at every turn. It was always the same: there was nothing to be done. Dean's heart was too damaged.

He was going to die.

Sam avoided seeing Dean in the hospital during those three days. Well, at least while Dean was awake. How could he face his brother after the vow he made to save him, when everything kept telling him he couldn't?

So he slipped in during the middle of the night, while Dean slept, needing so badly to see him, but unable to speak to him.

He sat quietly at Dean's bedside, careful not to wake him, just simply watching him. He was still pale, the dark circles under his eyes making his face look drawn and sunken. The doctor told Sam that Dean's condition was steadily deteriorating.

And Sam would let the tears fall silently as he watched his brother, never feeling more helpless in his life. Dean was slipping away, right before his eyes, and it appeared nothing could stop it.

But Dean wasn't gone yet, Sam reminded himself, so there was still hope. And Sam clung to that thin thread, kissing his sleeping brother gently before heading back out to find the answers he so desperately sought.


When he had exhausted all traditional avenues of medicine and science, Sam turned to the one thing he had left to explore.

His father's journal.

He had left this until last, firmly believing that the way to save Dean did not lie within the world of the paranormal.

Now, the paranormal was all that he had left.

It took the entire third day for Sam to read the journal cover to cover. And while none of his father's notes or the various newspaper clippings pertained to Dean's situation, the list of his father's contacts proved very interesting. His father had met people from all walks of life, in every profession. Maybe, just maybe...

Sam picked up his phone and started calling, but striking out with each person.

Until he got to Joshua.

And Joshua gave him what he was looking for. Hope.

What he told Sam was a long shot, to say the least. But Sam couldn't take the chance and not look into it. If it was true... And if it wasn't, they had lost nothing by trying.

But would Dean go for it? He was not a religious man. Sam needed to word his suggestion very carefully.


"One of Dad's friends, Joshua, he called me back. He told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist."


Sam watched from the vending machine room as Layla closed the door and walked across the parking lot to her car. She got in and drove away, her taillights disappearing down the road.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. Why couldn't they have found some way to save her, too? This was not the happy ending Sam had hoped for when he brought Dean here.


Sam knew this was tearing him up inside. And that deep down, he blamed Sam. If Sam hadn't tricked him and brought them here none of this would have happened. Dean wouldn't have a dead young man on his conscience, nor the fate of a beautiful young woman.

Because Dean himself would be dead instead. And as much as this whole situation tore Sam up, too, he knew he would've done the same thing over again if given the choice.

Because Dean was alive. The only person he had left in the world was alive.

If that made him selfish then so be it. His life was nothing but pain and loss. His mother. Jess. His father. The thought of losing Dean, too, was unbearable.

So he did what he did and now he could only hope that some day soon Dean would forgive him.

Sam pushed away from the wall and headed back to their room, his heart heavy.


Dean was standing in front of the window when Sam entered, looking outside, but not really seeing anything. He didn't move or acknowledge Sam's presence, and Sam noticed that while Dean's face was dry, his eyes were red.

Wanting to give his brother the time and space he needed, Sam headed toward the small kitchenette area. But an angry, pain-filled cry from Dean made him stop and spin around.

Dumbfounded, Sam watched as Dean turned and hit the hotel wall with his fist, as hard as he could. Shocked at Dean's action, Sam froze for a split second, and that was all the time Dean needed to smash his fist into the wall again.

"Dean! Stop!" Sam yelled, moving back across the room as his brother cocked his fist back again.

Before Dean could complete the motion, Sam was upon him, wrapping his arms around him, pinning Dean's arms to his side.

"No! Let go!" Dean screamed, struggling in his brother's hold.

"Are you crazy?! You're hurting yourself!" Sam yelled back, refusing to let go of Dean.

Dean stomped down hard on Sam's foot and Sam's grip relaxed just a fraction. It was all Dean needed. He broke free of Sam's hold, turning to face him and Sam saw the tears on his face.

Afraid Dean would hit the wall again, Sam reached for him once more, but Dean put his hands on Sam's chest and shoved. Sam stumbled backwards and lost his balance, hitting the floor hard.

"Dean! What the hell's wrong with you?!"

The anguished look on Dean's face nearly broke Sam's heart. "This is MY FAULT!" Dean screamed at him. "I asked you not to let me go. I drove you to do this, to save me! I never should have let you bring me here. But I did, because I wanted to live, because I love you so damn much! I caused all of this...Marshall, Layla..." he trailed off.

Sam picked himself up off the floor and took a step towards his brother, shaking his head. "No, Dean..."

But Dean put his arms out in front of him, hands up, and Sam stopped, hands clenching into fists at his side. He had to tell Dean this wasn't his fault, any of it. But Dean wasn't finished, and his next words chilled Sam to the bone.

"I wanted the reaper to kill me."

Sam's jaw dropped at Dean's admission. "No..."

"I wanted him to kill me, to save Layla and set things right," Dean went on. "I just couldn't take another death on my conscience, Sam. I couldn't..." Dean swallowed and continued. "I just stood there, as it came towards me in the parking lot. I didn't run. I just...stood there. And when it...when it touched me, I didn't fight back." Dean leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. "God, it hurt. And I knew this is what Marshall went through, because of me." He opened his eyes. "And I would go through it for Layla." He smiled softly. "You were the last thing I was thinking of Sam. That I was sorry I was leaving you. And that I loved you so much, and hoped you'd understand why I did this."

A tear ran down Sam's face. "God, Dean..."

"But then the reaper stopped, took it's hand off of the side of my face. I started gasping for breath. I was confused, but then I realized you must have gotten the cross from Sue Ann, broke the spell. The reaper, he just vanished." Dean paused for a moment. "I sat there on the ground for a minute, realizing that that had been my only chance to save Layla, and now there was nothing I could do for her. And I thought that maybe, someday, I'd be Ok with how all of this turned out. That we'd leave this town in the morning and I could start to put it behind me. But then...you asked Layla to come here."

Sam looked away from his brother. Here he thought he was doing something good for Dean, and it had completely backfired. If only Dean would have told him all of this last night...

"Talking to her again...she's such a beautiful person, Sam. And I don't mean her appearance. I mean who she is as a person, inside. I signed her death sentence, Sam, and she doesn't hate me. The world is losing a person like that and it's just not fair. If we would've just gotten in the car and drove away this morning I could've started to come to terms with all of this. But now..." Dean looked Sam straight in the eye. "I want that reaper back, Sam. I want him to finish the job."

"No!" Sam closed the gap between he and his brother in one long stride and grabbed Dean by the upper arms, giving him a shake. "Don't you dare say that! And don't you dare blame yourself. Because I hate to tell you, even if you wouldn't have asked me not to let you go, I still would have done exactly what I did, brought you here, everything. And I'd do it all over again, if given the choice."

Sam slid his hands up to Dean's shoulders. "No one's to blame for this, Dean. We just stumbled into it. All of this, the way it turned out...it happened for a reason. It just...wasn't your time to go. And for that I'm glad."

Sam smiled at his brother. "You're a beautiful person, too, Dean. You may not think it right now, but you've got a lot to still offer this world."

Dean blinked at Sam's words. "That's - that's what Roy told me, too."

"He did? When?"

"When I went to see him after he healed me, while you were off finding out about Marshall. Roy said something like, I've got an important purpose, a job to do, and it isn't finished yet."

Sam chuckled. "Smart man."

Dean sighed tiredly. "It may take me awhile to sort all this out in my head. To accept the part I played in all of this. To not blame myself."

"The same goes for me," Sam replied. "We both played a part in this and it affected us both deeply, Dean. And we'll never forget it." Sam brought his hands up to cup Dean's face. "There's something else I never want you to forget. I love you, Dean. I love you and I need you. If you had died..."

Dean's green eyes sparkled with moisture. "I love you, too, Sam."

They kissed then, holding tightly to one another, Sam, at least, grateful for the second lease on life that had been given to his brother.

Sam knew it would be a long road toward acceptance for Dean, but he would be there, right beside him, every step of the way.