Disclaimer:Supernatural is not mine. More's the pity. They belong to Kripke Enterprise and the CW Network. I am not making any money from this; I am simply playing in the fantastic sandbox that Kripke created with these two characters.

Synopsis: Samuel Campbell (Sam) is called home from Palo Alto, CA when his father is killed in an accident at the ranch. His sister Gwen remained in the family business, though it was always his father's intention that Sam should run the family business. Her husband Christian has taken over running the business, but the ranch is losing money and since Sam is the sole executor of the estate he is forced to return. Upon returning home, he finds his family's business is a wreck; an unknown corporation is trying to buy them out.

After interviewing several men to take the spot of one of the hands, Sam's foreman Bobby Singer eventually settles on Dean Winchester. This is after the man saves Sam's life in a bar one night. The cowboy brings his own baggage including a small son. He is also running from something in his past that he desperately wants to keep buried.

Warnings: This is an unrelated AU story with Male/Male pairings. If you don't like that sort of thing, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. There is also foul language interspersed throughout the story, so be on the look out for that. Dean and Sam are unrelated in this story, since I don't really write Wincest. But I do like the dynamic between these two characters.

ALSO IF YOU READ MY OTHER WINCHESTER STORIES…YOU MAY NOT LIKE THIS ONE. PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS.

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Previous Chapter:

Several hours later…

Dean was starting to fall asleep. The pain meds were kicking in and Emery had just left with Bobby and Ellen.

"I think I might head out and get some sleep." Sam said from the doorway. He'd tried to stay clear and let the small family have their reunion. But his heart was aching to be with Dean. He wanted to hug him and to feel that the man was actually all right. But he also wanted to be there for Dean. Which meant leaving.

He might be on the edges of unconsciousness, but Dean was still able to hear the hopelessness in the lawyer's voice. He forced his eyelid open and reached up with his right hand. The leads and wires were dripping off it as the IV ran into his veins and other meds were pumped through his system. "Sammy?" He mumbled. He saw the larger man stop, his shoulders slumped and his arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. Dean wasn't sure if it was from an injury or from emotional pain. "Come here."

Sam swallowed thickly and took the few steps to Dean's bedside. It was still dark in the room and he couldn't see Dean's face clearly. "What?"

Dean's fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled him onto the bed. Sam was careful not to lay his considerable weight on the smaller busted up man. "Stay?" It was soft and full of promise and Sam found that he couldn't say no. He slipped his long lean frame against Dean's smaller one and carefully pushed his arm under Dean's pillow before rolling him toward his chest. "Sam?" His name was slurred and Dean barely coherent anymore.

"Yeah Dean?" His fingers were softly carding through Dean's blonde hair.

Dean made a small noise and Sam pulled him closer. "Love you…" It was barely audible and more than slightly slurred with drugs and exhaustion. But the impact those two little words made on Sam was deeper than the Marianas Trench.

"I love you too." Sam replied in a husky voice.

XXXX

"You're sure he won't find out?"

A chuckle answered the inane question. "He won't suspect a thing."

"And you can guarantee this price?"

Another laugh. "Of course I can. I do own the bank."

"And he owns the property. Stupid son of a bitch doesn't have a clue what's really out there."

A man's voice interjected. "Well, I can't speak to the stupidity of the lawyer. But my ex-employee isn't stupid by any stretch. So make sure you have the boy before you engage in this plan or you'll have hell to pay."

"I already have that covered." The words belonged to a woman…Ruby.

****End of Previous Chapter***

Chapter 24

Hospitals and Hell

Dean was in the ICU for three days before the doctors declared him well enough to move to the general floor. His eye still looked like he'd lost a fight with Mike Tyson, but other than that, he seemed to be healing okay. The doctors were in and out at regular intervals, partly because of the severity of his injuries, but also because Sam was constantly asking for updates. Whatever influence his family had, he used in those first few days. It was on the fifth day that things took a turn for the worst. Dean dropped away from the reality of his situation, his body sending him into a coma-like state.

The half-healed gunshot wound developed a deep-routed infection and they very nearly lost Dean to the virulent strain of bacteria that took hold. His body trembled weakly as the fever raged and he remained stubbornly unconscious.

The dreams that haunted his restless sleep were both vibrant and terrifying. The depths of his scarred psyche pulled every fear he had to the forefront and tortured him with his failures.

He couldn't get away from the devastating images of Sam dying on the side of a cliff; or the images of Emery being dragged from his arms…and the pain. Oh God…the pain. It was like a never-ending fire that burned like acid along every nerve in his body. In all the years that he'd been walking the Earth, he'd never felt agony like that. It was cascading through his entire body, turning it against him and making Dean wish for nothing but death.

He bobbed in and out of consciousness, his mind trapped inside dreams that were both frightening and confusing. Dark angry clouds attacked the horizon of his awareness and held him prisoner inside the terrifying landscape. And just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, something would pull him back from the chaos…no, not something, someone…

A rumble that pierced his very heart sending warm current of love and genuine concern extended a lifeline as he was hauled back from the shorelines of those stormy dreams and he would sleep.

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The soft glow of the setting sun blinked through the slated blinds of the private room. The nauseating smell of the hospital had prevented the lawyer from eating anything in the last three days. Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his bent knees and running a hand down his face in exhaustion. He'd never felt this kind of unrelenting fear in his life. He hadn't slept in…how long has it been now? He didn't know anymore. He assumed that it was probably close to the last time he ate.

The last three days had been terrifying. The bacteria had taken hold with a vengeance deep inside Dean's body and they'd so nearly lost him. His fever had spiked to 105 and the doctors had warned Sam to 'be prepared'. His heart had nearly stopped at those words. He'd spent his life looking for this one person. The one person that completed the half a heart he'd been born with. And now there was every chance that Sam would lose him. If, and that was big if, Dean lived, he could have permanent damage because of the temperature that ravaged his body.

The sweat rolled off the smaller man, collecting in pools of sickness and then soaking Dean's sheets clean through. Ice packs had been laid along his arms, behind his neck and near the apex of his legs. Everywhere a large artery flowed near the surface of his skin, the doctors had covered him with the frozen ice. Anything they could do to try and get the fever to drop. At the moment the uncontrolled fever was their biggest concern. The injuries ended up taking a back seat to simply saving Dean's life…and so Sam waited…because there was no where else he could be while Dean teetered on the edge of life and death. Hell, there was nowhere else he could be.

The sun was just starting to set on the fifth day when Dean's fever finally broke. The palpable relief was short lived when he hadn't regained consciousness later that evening and Sam felt like a violin wire ready to snap. The soft yellow rays of light filtered through the blinds, creating a warm inviting atmosphere. One that Dean didn't seem inclined to share. Sam allowed his eyes to drift around the room and he was callously reminded of where they were and what was at stake.

Over the past few days, the lawyer had analyzed and reanalyzed his developing feelings for the man struggling to simply breathe. What he now knew scared him all the way to his core. At some point, he'd given Dean his entire heart. Everything that made Sam who and what he was had been freely given over and now the possibility of losing that was…well, he could not comprehend it.

Could he survive without Dean? Would he even want to? What about Emery? An unconscious twitch of his lips answered that question. If for some reason Dean did not survive his appointment with the reaper…Oh God, I can't even imagine…

Emery would be taken care of. Sam would never allow the boy to be placed in foster care or taken away. Because he knew who would come looking for the boy and he would never allow that to happen. He owed it to Dean to ensure that his sacrifices to save the boy from the corrupt world he'd been born into did not go unrewarded.

Part of Sam wondered how he would go on if the unthinkable happened? Unfortunately, he knew the answer to that question. He wouldn't. Sam wouldn't survive Dean's death, not really. The shell that Sam had wrapped himself in before Dean would return and he would go back to simply surviving, not living. He shook himself out of the black thoughts and leaned forward, gently picking up Dean's limp hand and intertwining their long fingers. The beautiful man didn't move, didn't even twitch, at Sam's touch and his heart clenched painfully at the stillness he was forced to witness.

Dean was all animation all the time. He was constantly on the move and to see him so silent and still was unbearable.

Sam pulled in a broken breath, "Dean, I don't know if you can hear me…I mean I've heard that comatose patients can hear what's happening around them. But I don't know if it's true. Oh God, listen to me, I'm rambling." He ran his long fingers through his hair, pushing the strands back off his forehead. The burn of tears just behind his eyes had him blinking several times, before he finally swallowed the lump of emotion that was suddenly cutting of his words. After several moments of silence, "I don't know when it happened…I can't pin point the exact moment I fell in love with you. All I know is that I have waited a lifetime." His breathing hitched painfully, "For you and Emery."

Footsteps outside the door had him glancing in that direction, anything to break the silent tension inside the room. Several nurses padded by, they were laughing about something and Sam sighed. "You know the night we met, I thought that Jasper was going to kill me. And what's worse is that I was okay with that. My life was just a long series of heart-wrenching moments and I guess I thought, maybe I deserved it." He inhaled and nervous laughter bounced from his lips. "But then you saved me." Sam leaned forward and rested his forehead on Dean's arm. "You saved me." He whispered hoarsely.

The twitch of movement beneath his cheek had his eyes flashing up. His breath catching painfully deep inside his chest when he was greeted with a tiny slit of unfocused green. "Dean?" He choked out.

The smaller man blinked sluggishly before rolling around, searching for something that he didn't seem to find, then his eyelids fluttered shut and his breathing evened out again. Sam forced himself to take a few much needed breaths. He hadn't realized he'd stopped until the uncomfortable burn in his lungs reminded him. The ball of emotions that threatened to spill from him was building exponentially and he wasn't sure he could hold back the tide. Dean had woken up…he hadn't done anything spectacular, but he had opened his eyes. For now…that would have to be enough for Sam.

Several hours later…

The twitch of muscles beneath him slammed Sam back into the world of awareness. He hadn't even realized that he'd fallen asleep when he forced his sticky eyelids apart. It took a moment for his fuzzy brain to remind him where he was and, more importantly, why he was there. He sent up a small prayer that his patient vigil over the love of his life would be rewarded.

For once in his life, he was not disappointed by fate. He was greeted with another breath taking view of Dean's s glassy, slightly unfocused eyes. This time there was at least recognition in them and Sam released his pent up breath. The bruising in his bad had receded enough to reveal both eyes. Dean blinked and his gaze shifted down to where Sam's fingers were still twined with his own before lifting that unfocused assessment back up to Sam.

Again Dean's gaze travelled through the room, still searching for something he didn't see. Sam didn't need to ask who Dean was looking for. "He's with Bobby and Ellen. He's okay. He's just scared."

A fractured look replaced the query and Sam reached, running his fingers along the strong jawline in affection; he was careful to avoid the still healing wounds. "He's okay, Dean. We've got him." A part of Sam wondered how many times Dean had been in a hospital with a tube shoved down his throat. He hadn't even fought the intubation when he'd woken up. Which was extremely unusual for a patient. The body's reaction to a foreign object shoved into the trachea was generally beyond the conscious control of a patient.

Bruising now discolored Dean's normally healthy tan. It had been changed to the sickly greenish-yellow hue of healing tissue. The swollen eye had reduced down so that Dean could see out of both of them. Sam couldn't stop the single tear that slid down his cheek. The green-eyed man's gaze shifted and he pulled his hand free from Sam's to reach up and wipe away the emotion that one tear represented. It was at that moment that Sam felt like things might actually be okay. He blinked several times and then nodded before again reaching for Dean's hand.

XXXX

Bobby stared at his coffee mug and felt his chest constrict. He had hoped that his boy would find the same kind of connection that Bobby shared with Ellen. And yet…at the moment he would give anything if that weren't so. While he knew that Sam would gain strength from the intense bond he shared with Dean, he would also suffer because of it. Bobby knew from experience that there was not a person alive that can inflict as much pain as a loved one. He could only hope that Dean's feelings were every bit as strong as Sam's.

The emotional trauma that Sam was going through had him wishing for simpler days. If the boy had been his own son, Bobby could not have loved the lanky scholar more. But watching him suffer these past few months had been akin to torture for him. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the counter, his fingers brushing at the mug that meant more to him than damn near anything else. He sighed before lifting his gaze to stare out at the slowly rising sun.

The ranch needed him to stay focused, especially now. The damage caused by the twister would be extensive and they hadn't been in a good place before the destruction. He knew he needed to go out…but his heart simply wasn't in it. Bobby's heart was waiting in a hospital room. It occurred to him that it wasn't just Sammy he was waiting on…it was Dean too.

Sam had always been a sensitive boy. He was inquisitive and he had been unable to keep his tremendous capacity to love from allowing others to filet his heart on several occasions. It had been agonizing to watch the boy struggle through his few attempts at failed relationships. Sam's sisters' condemnation had only complicated the burden that the young man had had to shoulder. It was bad enough being the heir to the Weston fortune, but to also be so completely disowned and despised by those that were supposed to love him unconditionally? It had been a tragic thing indeed.

Bobby had done his best to fill the gaping wounds left by the hateful words of Sam's family. But he knew that they would never fully heal and it broke his heart.

The pattering of little feet had his eyes shifting to the doorway. Emery came running through the kitchen door moments later. A large fluffy blanket held in one hand and his father's leather jacket in the other. He scurried toward the older man, wrapping his tiny arms around Bobby's legs.

"Morning, uncle Bobby." Emery beamed with health, though there was a slight furrow of worry to his young brow. He tripped over the large blanket a few times before finally trying to climb his way onto the empty stool next to the old man.

"Hey, kid." Bobby responded easily as he reached down to help settle the little blonde on the other chair. Bobby immediately wrapped the leather jacket around his thin shoulders and Emery smiled widely.

"It doesn't fit too good." There was a hint of disappointment coloring his words.

Bobby smiled, "It will. Give it time." He reached over and ruffled the child's soft hair affectionately.

Emery's smile dropped away and his tiny eyebrows knitted together, "Is my dad better today?"

The older man inhaled slowly. He didn't want to lie to the kid, but he also didn't want to scare him. He hadn't heard anything from Sam yet this morning. And while that could be okay, it also could mean something had taken a turn for the worse during the night. He'd learned over the years to reserve judgment until he had the facts. And at this moment, he didn't have any facts. "Why don't we go to the hospital and find out." He stated easily.

Emery nodded eagerly and hopped off the stool, the blanket forgotten in his haste. Just as Bobby was moving to the staircase to follow the boy, the doorbell rang. "Who the hell is out this early?" he grumbled, pulling the heavy wooden door open.

A man and woman were standing on the large front porch. The man was older, distinguished looking with sharp cheekbones and a shrewd glint to his blue eyes. The woman was quite a lot younger and she was beautiful. There was something cold about her though and that immediately had Bobby wishing he'd ignored the door.

"Can I help you folks?"

The man smiled, it did not reach his eyes. "I'm looking for Sam Wesson."

"He ain't here." Bobby responded coolly. He really didn't these two.

The woman raised an elegant eyebrow before asking, "And when, pray-tell, will he be returning?"

Bobby rolled his shoulders in response. "I ain't his secretary." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, he continued, "Tell you what, how 'bout you tell me who you are and I'll let him know yer lookin' fer him?" His answer left them no other options and neither of them looked happy about it.

The man held out his hand, "Alistair Zanuck and this is my associate, Ruby."

TBC…

Author's Note: I owe massive apologies for the ridiculously long time between chapters on this one…and several other fics that have fallen victim to the abrupt absence of my muse. That said…here is the next chapter and yes, this one is coming to a head. And another yes, there will be a happy ending for Sam and Dean before this is over; after all they've been through Hell.

If any of you are still out there reading, please do me a favor and leave a review so I know?