A/N: You can thank Thoughtful Constellations for this one. She was pretty interested in the fifth chapter of Daddy Drabbles, my oneshot series, and wanted me to extend it further. Because she's pretty chill, I did. And it turned out much better than I expected it to. You don't have to read the Daddy Drabbles chapter to understand this at all. This takes place before that anyway. But if you're interested in the characters, wander over there after this and take a look.

"Oh, if the sky comes falling down for you,
There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do."
"Hey Brother" - Avicii

Sydney woke to the smell of maple syrup. She'd inherited her father's sweet tooth but usually the only time they had pancakes was on Sundays because her mom said too much syrup would rot her teeth. Sydney always took that as an opportunity to point out she'd never had a cavity in her life.

Her dad was standing at the stove with her back to him when she stumbled into the kitchen, slipping onto one of the barstools at the counter and letting her legs swing.

"Morning," she said, resting her head on her palm. Her dad turned around and she saw he had the phone pressed to his ear. He waved with the spatula and gave her a goofy smile then turned back around to flip a pancake. "Can you put chocolate chips in mine?" she asked loudly and he held up a bag of the morsels above his head. Sydney grinned. It was scary how well her dad knew her but seeing as they'd never spent more than two nights away from each other, she understood.

"Dean Winchester," he said into the phone. "Yeah, Winchester. W-I-N-C-H-E-S-T-E-R. Great. Do I have to sign anything? No, okay great. Okay, bye."

"Who was that?" Sydney asked as he slid the phone away from the stove.

"Good morning to you too," Dean said and then glanced at his watch. "Or, afternoon."

"It's after noon? Why'd you let me sleep so long?" Her father shrugged.

"Your mom's at the office so I thought I'd give you a chance."

"It's Saturday. Why is Mom working?" Dean expertly stacked three pancakes and slid them onto a plate and placed them in front of her along with a pitcher of warm maple syrup.

"She has some big meeting on Monday and the office isn't open tomorrow so she went in today. She should be back by dinner. It's just you and me today, kiddo."

"That's okay with me," Sydney said, shoving a huge bite of chocolaty goodness into her mouth as her dad sat down next to her. Dean's daughter had sure inherited his appetite, along with his freckles and green eyes. But on her the combination was adorable, made even more so by the fact her brown hair was tousled from sleep.

"What do you want to do today?" Sydney shrugged. She was tall for an eleven year old with Dean's athletic build but she had her mom's calm demeanor, most of the time. The Winchester temper still wore through every now and then, not something Dean was particularly proud of. At least he had all the years of dealing with Sam to know how to handle Sydney when she was upset.

"I don't know. Watch TV?"

"Boring!" Dean announced. "C'mon, it's just you and me all day. Do you want to go to the movies?" Sydney's eyes lit up.

"Yeah! There's this new scary movie out about a haunted house and everyone in Math class said it was so good." Dean groaned. Another Winchester trait his kid possessed: she was interested in the supernatural and all things scary, despite the fact she knew nothing at all about hunting.

"No, anything but another scary movie." She smirked at him, the sticky syrup making her lips shiny.

"Are you a 'fraidy cat?"

"No!" Dean protested. "But you should broaden your horizons." Sydney licked her fork and watched him out of the corner of her eye.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you should watch something other than scary movies."

"Please, Daddy! Please!" Dean and Sydney both knew that he was helpless when she used her begging voice and the word Daddy. Dean had done a lot of great things in his life but if you asked him fifteen years ago he would have laughed and offered to buy you a shot. As unexpected as she had been, Sydney was probably the best thing to happen to Dean after his wife. The two of them had never talked about having a family but the little girl fit in the picture without a hitch and Dean couldn't fathom how he ever knew life without her.

They were out of the house within a couple hours and on the way to movies when Dean brought up Sydney's upcoming birthday.

"Hey kiddo, what do you want for your birthday?"

"A pony," she said promptly, grinning at him and sticking a CD in the car player.

"You're not getting a pony. We've talked about this."

"But Daaaaad, I've been taking lessons for a whole year. You said after a year we could talk about getting a horse." Dean frowned and tapped his fingers on the wheel.

"Did I say that?"

"Yes."

"I don't remember."

"Well, you did."

"How about a party?" he suggested. "We could invite your class. Have cake, balloons…"

"Dad, no one has balloons anymore. I'm turning twelve, not six." He looked over at her in mock shock.

"No one likes balloons? I remember someone getting their tonsils out six months ago and liking very much all the balloons I brought home. Must have been my other daughter."

"That was different," she insisted, thumbing through the tracklist of the CD before putting on her favorite song.

"Can't we listen to real music?" Dean said as a pop song filled the car. He winced; another thing his daughter hadn't inherited was his taste in music.

"Mom says you shouldn't make fun of anyone else's music," Sydney said, sounding suspiciously like his wife. He had no idea what he was going to do when she was a full-fledged teenager. Probably lock her in her room and guard the door with a chainsaw.

"One day I'm going to introduce you to real music," Dean promised, pulling into the movie theater. "In the meantime, keep thinking what you want to do for your birthday. It's only three weeks away."

"I think a laser tag party would be cool," she said as they were waiting in line for popcorn because Dean knew that going to the movies was a waste of time unless there was popcorn involved. Lots of popcorn. "They have a room at the place and one whole wall is painted like a giant whale!"

"That would be cool," Dean agreed. "As long as I can play."

"Of course you can," she said, laughing. "But we're all going to beat you!"

"What, no you aren't!"

The argument lasted all the way to the theater where Dean was disgruntled to learn his daughter thought he was old and slow. He didn't feel old and he went to the gym as much as he could to keep in shape for his job. There was no way he was old and slow and he was going to prove it to her by beating her smart-aleck ass in laser tag. Just one game though and he'd let her win all the others.

The haunted house movie was probably the dumbest thing he'd ever seen and that included the Blair Witch Project. Apparently, it was a poltergeist all along but the stupid people didn't have any idea what they were doing so they all died except for the one girl. He assumed there would be a sequel and he'd probably get dragged to that one as well.

"Dad, can we get ice cream?" Sydney asked once they were back in the car.

"Aren't you full from all that popcorn?" he said, turning his phone back on to check his messages.

"No, you ate it all. Please?"

"Sure," he said. "Just let me listen to this voicemail. I think it's your Uncle Sam."

"Is he still coming for dinner tomorrow?" she asked but Dean shhhed her with a wave of his hand. She picked up the CD case from the floor of the car and decided what song to play next until her dad was off the phone.

"Hey kiddo, that was the firehouse," Dean said, turning the car on and pulling out.

"Okay?"

"There's a pretty major fire on the other side of town. A huge house they couldn't get under control. I'm going to go help out."

"But it's your day off," she said, frowning. She thought it was cool that her dad was a firefighter even though she knew her mom hated it because she said it was too dangerous. The worse thing that had ever happened to Dean was that he'd broken his leg. Besides he was good at the job and all the kids at school thought she had the coolest dad ever because he fought fires.

"I know. I won't be gone long, I'm just gonna go help out for a bit."

"Does this mean we can't get ice cream?" Dean sighed.

"I'm sorry. Maybe tonight after dinner?"

"Promise?"

"I promise that if I'm home in time for dinner – which I will be – we can go get ice cream."

"Pinky-swear?"

"Pinky-swear."

He took one hand off the wheel to wrap his pinky around her much smaller one and then Sydney settled back on the seat with a smug look on her face. Her dad was the best.

When they pulled in the drive, Sam's silver pick-up was already parked in front of the garage and he was just climbing out of it.

"Hey, Uncle Sam!" Sydney said, running to give him a hug. "Why are you here?"

"He's going to watch you while until your mother or I get home," Dean said.

"I'm not a baby," she protested. "I can stay by myself?"

"Hey, I can't spend time with my favorite niece?" Sydney rolled her eyes and started inside.

"I'm your only niece!" she called back and then slammed the front door.

"Thanks," Dean said, already getting back in the car. All his equipment was kept at the station and the message from the fire chief had sounded urgent. "I'll call Melissa on my way and let her know. I'm not sure what she planned for dinner so…"

"Dean, it's fine," Sam assured him, sticking his hands in his front pockets. He rocked back on his heels. "I've babysat her before."

"Alright, thanks again. I'll see you later. Don't be late for dinner tomorrow!"

Sam waited until Dean's car disappeared and then headed inside. Sydney was at the kitchen table, leaning over a piece of paper.

"Watcha doing?"

"Making invitations."

"For what?" She looked up at him with her eye narrowed.

"My birthday. Dad said I can have a laser tag party." She left out of the "duh" but Sam heard it loud and clear. Besides the occasional babysitting, he'd never spent much one-on-one time with his niece and he wasn't quite sure what to make of her. She had her father's wit and her mother's intelligence and that made her pretty intimidating, even for an eleven year old.

"That's pretty cool."

"Do you want to help? You can color," she said, pushing the paper at him where she'd drawn a big Happy Birthday in bubble letter surrounded by balloons.

"Sure," Sam said, sitting down. The crayons felt tiny in his massive hands and he was afraid he was going to snap one of them.

"Uncle Sam?" Sydney said a while later with her head still down over her paper. They had a good routine going: she drew the letters and balloons and Sam colored them in.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you have a girlfriend?" He followed her lead and kept coloring but he could tell she was curious.

"I don't know, I guess I just haven't found the right girl."

"Huh."

"Your dad was real lucky when he found your mom."

"They met a restaurant," she told him as if he wouldn't know this. Sam kept a chuckle low in his throat; Dean and Melissa had actually met when she was a bartender and he was just passing through.

"Yep."

"Maybe you should go to more restaurants," she said, glancing up at him for the first time. She was up on her knees and there were pencil smudges all over her fingers. "You can come to my party and maybe you can meet a girl there," she said, eyes twinkling. "I'm going to write your invitation next!"

A while later and Sam started preparing dinner for Sydney. Neither Melissa nor Dean had called yet but that was normal. Melissa didn't get reception where she worked so the only way to communicate was to leave her voicemails. And Dean never took his phone into a fire with him; his cell would either be in the firetruck or back at the station.

"There you go," Sam said, putting a stack of grilled cheeses in front of them. Sydney's eyes got wide.

"Do we have to eat all of them?"

"What? No." She plucked the top sandwich off and then ran to the kitchen and returned with a jar of pickles.

"Dad always has pickles with sandwiches," she informed Sam and he couldn't believe he had forgotten that little detail about his own brother. They polished off three of the sandwiches in between them and then Sam wrapped the rest in tinfoil and cleaning up while Sydney took a shower.

She came back downstairs in her pajamas and her long hair dripping wet.

"When are they gonna be home?" she asked, flopping onto the couch. Sam was just wiping off the kitchen table and shrugged at her.

"I don't know. Whenever they're done." Sydney clicked on the TV and started surfing channels but didn't stop whining into the pillows.

"It's after eight, where are theeeeeyyy?" Over at the kitchen sink, Sam rolled his eyes but didn't say anything back. When he was finished, he grabbed his laptop and went to go join her in the living room. They watched some cheesy teenager movie for an hour or so and then Sam got bored and started browsing the internet, searching for paranormal activity just out of habit. He didn't hunt much anymore unless a younger Hunter needed some help, but he liked to keep up on what was going on. A news alert for the county flashed at the top of his screen and he sat up, clicking on it. He read all of two sentences then closed the laptop. Sydney was again browsing channels, kicking her feet absentmindedly against the end of the couch.

"Time for bed," Sam said and she looked over at him in surprise. Her uncle usually let her stay up way later than nine o'clock, and it wasn't even a school night.

"What?"

"You heard me. C'mon, go brush your teeth."

"But it's early," she said, sitting up. There was a red mark on one cheek where she had been laying against the pillow. It made her look a lot like younger than eleven and Sam had a hard time quelling the rising panic in his gut.

"Bedtime," he said firmly. She started to whine and he cut her off, "Now."

She dragged her feet the entire way to her room, whining about how this was unfair. "Life's not fair," Sam said as he stood in the doorway of her room, making sure she was

in bed and not just pretending. "Don't even think about sneaking out of bed." She scowled and turned on her side.

"You're being mean." Sam let the insult roll off him, wanting to get back to his computer as soon as possible. He had turned off the light and was halfway down the hall when he heard Sydney call out.

"Uncle Sam?" Gritting his teeth, he turned on his heel and headed back to her room.

"What's up?" Her face was a just a pale form in the darkness but her voice was small.

"Can you tell Dad to wake me up when he gets home? Just so I know he's back?"

"Sure," Sam said, knowing that this was a ritual for the two of them. "I'll send him right in as soon as he gets home."

"Thanks. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Syd."

Sam went back out into the living room and snapped open his laptop, thumbing through the new pages until he reached the one that interested him most.

EAST WAVERLY HOUSE COLLAPSES, ONE INSIDE

There was nothing to the article except the location of the fire and that everything was being done to ensure this person's survival. It was dated twenty-one minutes ago. Sam knew this was the fire Dean had gone to attend to – he just knew – and his hands were shaking as he dialed Melissa's number. He didn't expect her to pick up but when she did, her voice was so breathy he could hardly understand what she was saying.

"Sam, is that you?"

"Hey, yeah, it's me. Where are you?" She was definitely crying, he could hear it in the way she kept gasping.

"I'm on my way to the hospital."

"Meliss, was it – was it him?" She sobbed just once and Sam almost crushed the phone in his hand.

"Y-yes. He was trapped in the basement but they just got him out, like two minutes ago. They're flying him to Mercy Hospital." Mercy Hospital was forty-five minutes away, half an hour past their local hospital and it was known for taking the most critical cases in the area. If Dean was being airlifted to Mercy…it wasn't good.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"Can you s-stay with Sydney?" she asked, voice trembling. She sniffed loudly into the phone, trying to get her crying under control.

"Of course," Sam said. "Call me when you have news."

She hung up before he did and for a minute he just stared at the cellphone in his hand, dread collecting like rainwater in his stomach, making his limbs heavy and his head spin. He'd known this was going to happen sooner or later. He hadn't known if he was going to be hunting or a car accident or a freaking fire but he'd known that his brother was living on borrowed time because it was the Winchester way. Dean had been happy for too long and now it was coming back to bite him.

Sam didn't let himself browse anymore about the fire and instead just paced the house, making a loop from the living room to the kitchen and then down the hallway to check on Sydney. Despite her protests, she had gone to sleep early and was undisturbed by Sam's restlessness. When his phone rang an hour later, it was just Melissa saying they had taken Dean into surgery but she didn't know what for. When it rang three hours after that, she was crying again.

"It's not good," she said, voice hoarse. "I've been in to see him once but Sam – it's not good."

"What's wrong?" he asked, hating that he couldn't be at Dean's side.

"I think you better get down here. Bring Sydney." She refused to say another word over the phone and Sam didn't push her; the frailty of her words was enough proof for him to know that Dean was in trouble. He wondered vaguely as he walked to Sydney's room if his brother was even still alive, if Melissa didn't want to tell him over the phone. His heart shuddered at the thought of never getting to say goodbye, of having Dean ripped away from him like duct tape from his skin.

He turned on Sydney's bedside lamp and sat on the edge of her bed.

"Sydney, hey wake up." She blinked sleepily up at him, her hair almost completely out of the ponytail she'd gone to sleep in.

"Daddy?" she mumbled, squinting up at Sam.

"No, it's Uncle Sam." She sighed and shut her eyes against the light. Sam rubbed her back, using the motion to calm his own frantic nerves.

"Where's Dad?"

"We have to go see him," Sam said. "He got hurt in the fire, he's in the hospital." It didn't register for a few second and then Sydney opened her eyes again, examining Sam for truth and paling when she found it. She put her arms around Sam's neck and he scooped her up right off the bed, wrapping a blanket around her and taking her straight to his car.

"I'm just gonna go lock up the house," he said once she was in the passenger seat. She nodded and watched him through the windshield as he ran back into the house, coming out a minute later with his jacket.

They rolled down the street in silence, Sydney staring out the window at the streetlights. It was after one in the morning and she had never been out this last; the streets were empty and the playground down the road looked scary in the dark.

"Where's Mom?" she asked.

"She's at the hospital with your dad. We're going to meet her." Sam was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice that Sydney had started crying. She was using a corner of the blanket to wipe away the tears as soon as they fell but she couldn't keep up. Sam reached over and patted her leg.

"It's okay, Syd."

"What h-happened?" she asked.

"I don't know," Sam said. He wasn't about to tell her that an entire building had fallen on her father; he would let Melissa decide on how much to tell her. He knew his own father wouldn't have held back any graphic details but Sam also knew that Dean made a point to act as differently from John as possible.

As scared as she was, Sydney couldn't help but fall asleep on the long drive to the hospital and Sam didn't mind as he was too busy worrying to try to keep up a happy façade. She didn't wake until he opened her door and she sat up and stretched her neck.

"Do you want me to carry you in?" Sam asked softly and she nodded. He settled her on his hip and shut the door, locking the truck before heading to the entrance Melissa had texted him. Sydney buried her face in her uncle's shoulder when they got inside.

"Hi," she heard Sam's deep throat say to someone and still she kept her eyes pinched shut. She had had to go to the hospital only once and that was to get her tonsils out. She hadn't really liked it because too many people touched her and it smelled funny and was always cold. It was cold now and she was still wrapped in the blanket Uncle Sam gave her because beneath it she was wearing only her pajamas.

"Uncle Sam," she whispered in his ear.

"Yeah?"

"I don't have any shoes on," she said, wiggling her bare toes.

"It's okay," he said. "We'll find you something."

"Am I too heavy?" she said, worried now because Uncle Sam looked like he was about to cry and she'd never seen him or Daddy cry.

"No, sweetheart," he said. "You're fine. I'm just trying to find out where De – where your dad is."

Sam walked them up to one of the top floors of the hospital when directed by the nurse. He stopped in a small waiting room before a set of double doors that had the letters ICU hanging above them in red letters.

"Chief Tony?" Sydney asked when Sam set her down in a chair. The man nearest them turned around and Sam saw it was the fire chief of Dean's station. He was still dressed in his uniform; his helmet was sitting on a chair across the room next to – Sam's stomach seemed to shrivel – the helmet he recognized as Dean's.

"Hey, Sydney," Tony said, clearly surprised to see the child. He shook Sam's hand.

"Have you seen my dad?" she asked, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders.

"Um, not yet." She frowned.

"Where's my mom?"

"She's with your Dad."

"Syd, I'm gonna talk with Tony down the hall, okay? Don't go anywhere and don't follow anyone." She rolled her eyes and tucked her feet up under her.

"I'm not stupid, I know not to talk to strangers."

"Good," Sam said. Tony followed him several yards down the wide hallway. He was a short, squat guy, not the typical fireman, but he could bench press more than Sam could and he'd do anything for his men.

"Sam, I'm so sorry," Tony started off with, shaking his head. He barely came up to Sam's chest.

"What happened?"

"There was a kid stuck inside. I think Dean knew the building was coming down – it had been burning a while – and he went in before we could formulate a solid plan. Got the kid out but not himself. From the way the kid was talking, it sounds like Dean got pinned under something and told the kid how to get out. The building collapsed about ten seconds after the kid made it clear."

"And Dean?" Tony shook his head, arms crossed tightly as if trying to keep the emotion inside his chest by sheer pressure. There was a snake tattoo on his forearm, the tail spiraling around his bicep, the head open in a hiss across the back of his hand.

"We got to him eventually but he's in a bad way. I haven't seen him yet but I talked to Melissa and she was almost hysterical. They calmed her down enough so that she could go back in a while ago. Sam, I'm sorry," he repeated. "I rode with him in the helicopter, didn't want him to be alone."

"Thanks," Sam said and although he meant it, the word came out sounding hollow. "Do you mind staying with Sydney while I go in there?"

"Of course not," Tony said, blinking away tears that Sam pretended not to notice.

"She – uh – doesn't know anything so maybe just keep her entertained for a while. She's pretty tired, I think."

"I'll take care of her," Tony said. "Tell Dean I say hi and that all the guys are rooting for him."

"I will," Sam said, clapping Tony on the shoulder for a brief moment. He'd never understood Dean's desire to be a firefighter, to work with a group of strangers when he'd always liked flying solo. But Dean thrived on the job, made fast friends with the guys, was always volunteering at blood drives and bake sales they held to raise money for new equipment. And in return, the respected the hell out of Dean Winchester. That part Sam had no problem understanding.

He walked through the double doors and was about to ask for Dean at the nurse's station when he caught sight of Dean's wife, Melissa, through a window. He waved at the nurse he was about to approach and instead walked into the small room. There were just two people in it: Melissa and the doctor Sam assumed who was taking care of Dean.

"Sam!" Melissa said in obvious relief when he walked over. She stood up and hugged him tight, leaning her forehead against his shoulder for a moment before letting go. He squeezed her hand. He'd always liked Melissa although he didn't know her that well, besides the fact she made Dean incredibly happy.

"How is he?" Sam asked as they both took a seat across from the doctor who was seated on the other side of the table. He had a file in front of him but it was closed and his hands were folded on top of it. Sam noticed he wasn't wearing a wedding ring.

"I was just telling Mrs. Winchester about her husband's condition. Dean suffered severe smoke inhalation. While he was trapped, he was exposed to all sorts of chemicals and poisons in the air. When things burn, they let off chemicals and gases; in a large house fire, there are copious amounts of these in the air and your brother suffered long-term exposure."

"What does that mean?" Sam asked. The doctor leaned into his folded hands and softened his voice.

"Dean ingested a large amount of cyanide," the doctor said with a straight face. "It was too late for the antidote by the time we got him to the hospital."

Melissa didn't move; in fact, it looked like she had turned to stone except for a tiny whimper that had Sam reaching for her hand.

"What are you saying?" Sam said, struggling to keep his voice from rising in hysteria.

"Mr. Winchester, Mrs. Winchester, there is nothing we can do for Dean but keep him comfortable." Sam felt heat rush through him as if there were a fire in this very room, his skin prickling with anger and disbelief and fear. The hand that wasn't holding onto Melissa ran through his hair.

"What do you mean? There has to be something." The doctor shook his head, looking truly sorry.

"There isn't. Cyanide is a fast-acting poison. He's going in and out of consciousness at the moment but it won't last. You need to think about saying goodbye while he's…cognizant."

"What will happen?" Melissa whispered. She wasn't crying, but her voice was barely a breath. The doctor's expression changed to one of sympathy.

"He'll remain awake until the poison reaches his brain and heart and then he'll go into a coma. He won't feel it. He's not in any pain," the doctor assured them. "We've given him heavy doses of morphine."

"There has to be something," Sam repeated although the insistence was gone in his voice. "We did attempt the antidote but it's not having any effects on the cyanide levels."

This time it was Melissa who squeezed Sam's hand. He glanced over at her and saw her eyes were wide and glassy with tears but she was still holding them back.

"Let's go see him," she said hoarsely. "I don't want him to be alone." They shook hands with the doctor and approached Dean's bed, Melissa still holding tightly onto Sam's fingers, almost crushing them in between hers.

Sam had seen Dean in a lot of hospital beds but he felt his knees start to buckle as he gazed at his brother. A breathing tube was down his throat, expanding his chest every few seconds while what seemed like a dozen other machines beeped and hummed next to him. His eyes were closed and Sam could see his eyelids were burned, the hair from his eyebrows mostly gone from where the fire had gotten too close. There were other burns on his face but he still resembled Dean, still looked like the big brother who had spent decades carrying the weight of the world plus Sam.

Melissa finally let go of Sam's hand and went to the bedside, sitting in a chair so that she leaned over the bed. With careful fingers, she brushed her hand through Dean's hair.

"Hey, honey," she whispered. "Hey, Sam's here."

For a minute, Sam was afraid that the inevitable had already happened, that the coma had taken hold, but then Dean's eyes blinked several times. Slowly, as if they weighed a hundred pounds each. Sam watched them hover unfocused for few minutes before slipping over to his wife.

"Hi," she said, choking slightly but recovering. She didn't want to scare or worry Dean. "You're in the hospital but it's okay. Sam's here." She motioned Sam over and he went with wooden legs, hardly able to keep upright with the way gravity seemed to be pulling at him from all directions. Melissa stood up and let Sam have the chair.

Dean's eyes went out of focus again and it took some soothing words for Sam before he could capture his brother's attention. The burns around his eyes only made the green sharper and more vibrant, a cruel trick in the light of what was coming.

"Hey bud," Sam said, adopting Melissa's quiet tone. "That's right, I'm right here. You're okay, just like she said." He took hold of Dean's hand, thankful it had remained unmarred by the fire; it would be too much if he could never touch his brother again. "You saved that kid, you know. He's going to be just fine." The hiss and pull of the ventilator was Dean's only reaction. His eyes seemed to be searching Sam's face for something, perhaps subconsciously looking for more consolation in the most familiar sight of his life.

"You did a real good job," Sam said, rubbing the back of his brother's hand with his thumb, drawing comforting circles into the cold skin. "We're so proud of you." He couldn't hold back the tears any longer when he felt Dean's fingers give a subtle twitch, trying to hold onto Sam's but failing. He glanced away and when he looked back, Dean's eyes were closed again.

"Sam," Melissa said, her voice sounding too loud in such a confined space. "Sam, I need to tell Sydney before…" She broke off, folding her arms across her chest. "I want – I want to give her the chance to say goodbye."

"Of course," he said. He'd forgotten all about Dean's daughter but of course Dean would need to see her one last time. Even if he couldn't tell Sam that, he knew that's what Dean would want. "What are you going to say?"

"I asked for a grief counselor to come talk to her. I knew, Sam, I just knew this was going to…" She couldn't seem to finish the thought and instead, pressed a kiss to Dean's forehead and walked back out of the room. Sam hated to leave, it was like leaving one of his lungs behind, but he followed her, knowing that she needed support and she was his responsibility now. She was Dean's family. His family.

"Okay," he said. "Let's go out and see her. She's in the waiting room with Tony." Melissa nodded and Sam walked behind her so she didn't say when he swiped his sleeve across his eyes.

"Mom!" Sydney yelled when Melissa walked through the doors. She threw off the blanket and ran across the room in her barefoot, launching herself into her mother's arms. Melissa clutched at her daughter for dear life, squeezing her hard until Sydney pulled away. "Mom's where Dad? No one is telling me anything." Sam knew that as smart as she was, the eleven year old probably had a good idea of what was going on. She knew that Dean was hurt badly enough that they were keeping her from him and it was enough to terrify the child. She was close to tears and she didn't even know the details.

"I know, sweetie. He got hurt pretty bad in a fire."

"Like when he broke his leg and had to be in a wheelchair?" Melissa paused and smoothed her daughter's hair.

"A little worse than that," she said. Sydney's brow furrowed; being in a wheelchair was pretty bad so she didn't know how much worse he could be hurt. Melissa was saved further explanation when a young woman came over and introduced herself.

"Hi," she said, shaking Melissa and Sam's hands. "My name is Kelly, I'm with the support services of the hospital."

"Hi," Melissa said, both hands on Sydney's shoulders. "This is Sydney." Kelly nodded and crouched down before the child.

"Hey Sydney, I'm Miss Kelly."

"Do you know my dad?" she asked, twisting her neck to look up at her mom and Uncle Sam.

"I met him a little while ago," Kelly said.

"Is he okay?" the girl whispered, lower lip trembling. Kelly took Sydney's hand and led her over to the chairs so they could talk. Sam and Melissa followed behind but gave them enough space.

"Sydney, your mom asked me to come talk to you because explaining about your dad is a little hard for her right now." She waited for Sydney to interject but the child was silent, expecting more explanation. "He was hurt pretty badly in the fire, some bad chemical got into his lungs." The lip was more than trembling now, it was an earthquake upon a worried face, a volcano about to spill over.

"Is he gonna die?" she asked, looking up again at her mom, not wanting to hear the answer but somehow already knowing it.

"Sydney, I know it's difficult to hear but your dad isn't going to get better. His lungs are too sick."

The girl started crying and spun around to cling to her mother, burying her face in her sweater. Kelly let her be for a minute and then started talking again.

"Sydney, I have to ask you something. Can you talk to me?" Melissa patted her daughter's back with encouragement and she peeked her face out, looking much younger than her actual age. She nodded at Kelly.

"If you want, you can see your dad. You don't have to and no one is going to make you. And it's totally okay if you don't want to, that's normal." Sydney bit her lip, looking up at Sam who tried to give her a smile. Melissa knelt down on one knee, putting her arm around Sydney's waist.

"It's up to you," Melissa said.

"I'm scared," Sydney whispered after a minute.

"That's okay," Kelly said. "It's a very scary thing to do. But knowing how close you and your dad were, it might make you feel better to say goodbye." Sydney deliberated for another few seconds before nodding.

"I want to."

"Okay," Kelly said. "You are one brave girl. I'm just going to tell you a couple things so you aren't afraid when you go inside." Sydney nodded and gripped her mom's hand tight.

"You dad's lungs aren't working so he has a big tube down his throat that helps him breathe. It doesn't hurt him but it's a little scary looking and it makes some weird noises that are kind of loud. Just remember it's there to help."

"Okay."

"He also got a few burns from the fire so he might not look exactly like the way he usually does. But he's still the same old dad."

"He's not old," Sydney said at once, shaking her head. "He doesn't it like it when you say that." Kelly smiled.

"My bad. It was just an expression. One more thing: you have to be very calm and brave when you see him so we don't scare him-,"

"My dad isn't scared of anything," Sydney interrupted. "Not even monsters."

"Wow, you sure are lucky to have such a brave dad," Kelly said. "He probably won't get scared but we just want to make sure. If you can't be calm, just tell one of us grown-ups and we'll take you out the room."

"I won't cry," Sydney said, the tears already vanishing.

"Okay, then I guess we can go in. Remember to stay quiet."

Sydney was fine until she got to the end of her dad's and then she froze. Kelly was right; her dad didn't look like normal. There were red and purple patches on his face and neck and part of his eyebrows were missing. Melissa felt the tug on her hand when Sydney stopped and she waited for her daughter to keep going. Sydney was too busy taking in the tube that was coming out of her dad's mouth. She tried to remember what Kelly said about it not hurting but just looking at it made her want to cough.

"It's okay." She turned to find Sam just behind her, squatting down. He was carrying the blanket that she had been wrapped in all night. "It's just your dad." Sydney had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying but she nodded at her uncle. "Do you want to say hi?" he suggested and she nodded again.

Her dad looked even worse up close because she could see where the heat had blistered his lips.

"Is he going to wake up at all?" she asked.

"Maybe," her mom said. "We don't know. But if you talk to him, he can hear you."

"Hi, Daddy," Sydney said, surprising everyone with the strength in her voice. "We all came to visit you to make you feel better." She glanced up at Kelly to make sure this was okay to say and the woman gave her a small smile. Sydney took a seat in the chair by the bed and pulled it up close so she could rest her feet on the lower rail of the bed; it made her feel closer to her dad.

"It's okay that we couldn't go for ice cream," she whispered near his ear so that only he could hearr. "I bet they have lots of ice cream in heaven." She paused so she could blink back tears. She didn't want to cry in front of him when he was so sick. She looked over at Kelly.

"Will it – will it hurt him if I touch him?" Kelly shook her head.

"You can hold his hand just be very gentle." Sydney turned back around and tentatively wrapped her small fingers inside her father's larger ones, noticing for the first time the calluses that decorated his palm.

"Daddy, remember that time when I was little and you built me that treehouse? It was when Mom was away and we got to camp out in the backyard and you showed me how to find the Big Dipper in the stars? Well, that was the best day of my whole life. I wanted to tell you that." She gripped his fingers tight as she went back to whispering.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of Uncle Sam for you. You said that he gets in trouble but I'll make sure he doesn't." She gasped when Dean's eyes flickered open, landing right on his daughter. She almost dropped his hand in shock but held on even more tightly when she saw he was looking at her. He couldn't take with the tube in his mouth but he looked like he wanted to say something and Sydney did start crying when her dad wrapped two of his fingers loosely around her wrist.

"I love you," she said, taking a shuddering breath before one of the adults made her leave. "I love you, Daddy. Please don't go."

A/N: This is actually a two-parter. The second part deals with the aftermath and the relationship between Sydney and Sam. But what did you guys think of the beginning? Different, right?