A/N - I'm so sorry this has taken so long to update, It was beta'd sometime around a week ago but I had some things happen that caused me to be unable to post. First started with serious internet problems, and second ended with my attending a funeral for a dear friend of mine today. I was going to post it this morning before leaving, but the document manager was down so I couldn't do it until now. For further information and a memorial to my friend, see the note at the end of the chapter.

Dedicated: To Muffy, my wonderful friend and confidante, amazing support and incredibly talented writer :)

Beta'd by the awesome and amazing and wonderful and incredible and talented and gorgeous TraSan. And if you find any mistakes, no she didn't miss anything, I tinkered. What can I say? My bad :)

Dean

Chapter Nine

When Dean opened his eyes again there was no sign of his brother, no sign of the 'people' haunting him and no sign of the pain that had pulsed through his last conscious moments. Dean was relieved, at least about two out of three of those things. His missing brother was cause for concern and Dean immediately pulled himself to sit up so he could look around better.

It was a mistake immediately, he realised as his head swam. Nausea ripped through him and he gritted his teeth against the rising bile in his throat. He was gasping, trying to catch his breath, when the door swung opened and Bobby walked into the room with a coffee in one hand, pen between his teeth, a notebook tucked under his arm and an ancient text in his other hand.

His eyes lifted when he heard the noise from Dean's bed and immediately, his juggling act forgotten and everything falling to the floor, Bobby rushed to his side and hit the call button behind the bed.

"Dean?" he asked, holding Dean up as he seemed to grow weak. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

Dean couldn't answer. The bile was burning his throat and he could barely get air into his lungs let alone get words out of his mouth. He felt like he was drowning in acid and his panic was quickly growing.

A nurse bustled into the room, followed closely by Doctor Draper.

"What's happening?" Doctor Draper asked, his eyes widening when he saw Dean gasping for breath. He immediately pressed Dean to lie back down and held the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. "You shouldn't be getting up just yet, Dean. You've had some swelling around the brain and, until that's settled down, you're going to have to rest. Moving around can cause all sorts of problems and complications anyway."

Dean didn't even nod his head, but his eyes indicated he understood. His breathing seemed to be calming down as he remained still, patiently allowing the doctor to check him over.

"I'm going to order another MRI, Dean," Doctor Draper told him gently, scribbling notes on his file before looking at him carefully. "We need to check on that swelling. If it doesn't go down on its own we may have to move quickly. Did your brother tell you how we relieve that pressure?"

Dean frowned. He couldn't really remember much of what they'd talked about, but he knew most of it was about the deal. What he did remember made his chest hurt, so he pushed it aside and stared blankly up at the doctor.

"Well, let's just wait until we see what the MRI says before we worry about it," Doctor Draper suggested. "I'll go arrange that now and someone will be along to take you down in a little while. Until then, try to relax. We don't need you hyperventilating in the meantime."

Doctor Draper, nurse in tow, left the room. Bobby waited til he was gone before turning his attention back to Dean and watching him carefully.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" he asked gruffly. "What were you doing? Trying to get out of bed, I bet!"

"Bobby-" Dean gasped, his voice hoarse and muffled.

"Sam's gonna be pissed when he sees you on oxygen again, and you know who he's gonna be pissed at dontcha! Not you, that's for sure! He'll be pissed at me! Coz that's just how you Winchesters work, you get all over-protective of each other and then it's too hell with everyone else! Besides, ya can't get pissed at someone on oxygen! It's a universal get out of jail free card!"

"Bobby-" Dean tried again, closing his eyes as he remembered his brother's words and knowing the anger and pain that was behind him. You could get pissed at someone when they were on oxygen, but only if they sold their soul and went to hell to save your life, leaving you behind to cope with everything on your own and… Dean sighed, realising that Bobby wasn't finished and that his thoughts weren't going to help him get through the next few minutes.

It seemed it was Bobby's turn to unload.

"I mean, hell Dean… aw, sorry, I meant… well, bugger it! Hell! And I'm sick of you two not talking and then I end up in the middle of everything and-"

"Bobby!" Dean spoke louder this time, determined to get a word in. Bobby was annoyed and understandably so, but Dean had to find out answers to a few questions and he knew that Sam wouldn't tell him the truth.

"What?" Bobby snapped back.

"Where's Sam?"

"Oh, he snuck outta here a while ago, muttering something about a library or something," Bobby told him, sighing and sitting in the uncomfortable chair. He hadn't remembered his coffee that was a pool on the floor, or the books surrounding it. Dean wondered how long it would take him, but he knew that the old hunter hadn't had an easy time of it either so he remained silent.

"We talked," Dean began, biting the bullet. So to speak.

"Oh yeah?"

"He kind of let me have it about the deal and everything."

Bobby nodded.

"Pretty much said everything you warned me about. How it was selfish and stuff," Dean continued. He wished Bobby would jump in and tell him he'd done the right thing, he'd saved his family and no one could ask anything more of him than that. Knowing that was wishful thinking since Bobby had been the first to have a go at him about it, Dean would've happily settled for something along the lines of 'well, he's right, it was selfish'. The silence seemed like a kick in the teeth, a complete lack of support and Dean was suddenly reminded of the newfound respect Bobby and Sam seemed to hold for each other and felt like an outsider. Realising Bobby was still waiting, Dean continued. "But he said some other stuff, too. I'm kinda worried about it."

Bobby's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What sort of stuff?"

"How he'd wanted to die after I'd gone to hell coz he couldn't live with what I'd done. How he can barely live now, seeing me… like I'm a reminder of it all, what I did for him. He was really angry, Bobby. Desperate even. I've never seen him like that, not once. Not even after Jess died, he was never that… broken."

Again Bobby remained silent.

"Bobby, I have to know," Dean told him. Bobby was already shaking his head, no. "Bobby…"

"Can't do it, Dean. Sam and I talked about it and he doesn't want you knowing anything about that time, not details anyhow. It wasn't a great time, Dean. Not for either of us and, to be brutally honest, I don't particularly want to talk about it."

"Come on, Bobby-"

"Dammit, Dean! Can't you ever leave well enough alone?"

"Well enough? What exactly is well enough? My little brother tells me he can barely live with himself because I saved his life, and you tell me that's well enough?"

"He's alive ain't he? And you're back from hell, ain't ya? What would you call it?"

"Damn lucky! And what the hell are you guys keeping from me? He's my brother and I have a right to know what's going on!"

"What about his rights? You never stopped to think about how he was going to cope with losing you, knowing you were in hell, didya? All you could think about was how you were feeling!" Bobby took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Dean, I know that what you went through down there was probably more than we could ever imagine, but you have to remember something. We suffered too. Sam had to watch you get ripped apart by hell hounds and it wasn't a pretty sight. We had to bury you. We had to learn to live without you. Sam had lost his brother, the one and only constant in his life and he suddenly had to fend for himself. And me?"

Dean saw Bobby swallow hard and suddenly realised how hard the last few months really had been on the old man. Bobby meant the world to Dean, but Dean hadn't stopped to think how much he might me to Bobby.

"I lost a son that day, Dean," Bobby told him quietly. "We've all lost a lot in our lives. All of us. And then we lost you because of a decision you made. It messes with your head, Dean. It's like, on one hand we were angry with you for making the decision you'd made but on the other we… we just missed you."

"Bobby…" Dean pulled the mask off. He closed his eyes a moment and when he finally looked back again Bobby had pulled his hat off and was rubbing his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I never thought… I never realised… I just, God! I couldn't live without Sam and I never stopped to think that Sam would have to live without me. It was a selfish choice, but I thought you guys would be okay. I never thought…"

"You don't think enough of yourself, Dean," Bobby told him, not looking up yet. "You talk big about what you think of yourself, but when it comes right down to it you don't think you're worth all that much. Who knows, maybe you're right. Maybe you ain't worth much. Maybe none of us are. But if we're worth something to someone then that's how we should measure ourselves and dammit, kid, you're worth a whole lot to us. Especially Sam. He was destroyed when you died. He was, well, he wasn't Sam anymore."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, ignoring the rest of the conversation as the topic turned to Sam and that was much easier ground for Dean to deal with. "What was he like?"

Bobby shook his head.

"He was a shell. Barely. He didn't eat, didn't sleep, didn't talk. It was weeks before he could look me in the eye. All he seemed to do was drink and, let's face it, Sam's never been one for booze. But he was after you died. Big time. He was barely holding on and then he just up and left one day," Bobby shook his head. "I spent ages looking for him, even came close a couple of times but he was always one step ahead. But I'll tell you one thing for sure. The Sam Winchester we knew was dead, he'd died right there on the floor with you. There was none of that annoying hope in his eyes, the naïve questions… nothing. He was just empty and bitter and bent on revenge."

"And now?"

Bobby shrugged and looked at Dean.

"You tell me."

"You guys seem to have this understanding these days. You seem a lot closer so, well…"

"I will never know him as well as you did, Dean. And now, you won't either."

FORMUFFY FORMUFFY FORMUFFY FORMUFFY FORMUFFY FORMUFFY

Dean stared into the darkness of the blind fold. All he could hear was the thumping of the MRI machine and not even that was enough to drown out the thoughts racing through his head. He couldn't stop thinking about what Bobby had said and, of all the things he had endured in hell, he decided that this was worse. He was trapped inside a box that felt frighteningly like a coffin, it was loud and it was all he could hear and the worse part was he couldn't escape himself.

That was always the hardest part, being alone with himself. That's truly why he went to bars, aside from hustling money. It was so he wouldn't have to be alone with himself and his thoughts.

Sam hadn't returned by the time the orderly had come to take Dean for the MRI, so he hadn't had a chance to talk to him about anything that had been said. He needed to know what had happened after he'd gone, how Sam had been, what he'd done. The possibilities were endless and Dean was struggling to deal with the suggestions that were going through his mind. It didn't help that he was starting to feel incredibly weak, that he kept hearing voices calling to him, whispering his greatest fears.

Sammy tried to kill himself, Dean. After you died. He slit his wrists! That would have landed him in hell, right next door to you! See Dean? See how well you saved him?

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, pleading silently for the voices to stop. He didn't know how much longer he could lie there before he finally lost it and started clawing his way out – and that had some terrifying similarities to the day he had woken up in his own grave.

You shouldn't have saved him, Dean. How do you know it's really him, that he's 100% Sammy Winchester? How do you really know? And anyway, he's different now. He's angry and bitter and hopeless, he's not the little brother you left behind.

Dean felt his chest tightening. He wished he could argue with the voices, but he couldn't. If everything Bobby had said was true, then Sam really wasn't the same person he'd known.

I will never know him as well as you did, Dean. And now, you won't either.

Was that a voice or a memory, Dean wondered. He didn't have much time to ponder, however, as pain started pounding in his head again. It felt like his skull was going to split right open and he was suddenly very, very afraid.

He hates you, Dean. He hates you for what you did, for leaving him behind.

Dean couldn't breathe, his throat felt like it was tightening, his body was weakening fast.

"Help," Dean whispered, weakly. "Help me!"

A voice, a real one, was speaking to him, but he couldn't hear them. He was lost deep within the panic raging through his body and mind and he couldn't find his way out. He was struggling, fighting, but he couldn't move, couldn't get away. He could hear a voice screaming but he didn't know who it was.

He wasn't conscious long enough after that point to realise that it had been him.

FORMUFFY FORMUFFY FORMUFFY FORMUFFY FORMUFFY

Sam stood beside his brother's bed as the doctor spoke to him. He had plenty to say and none of it was good. Sam didn't want to hear it but he knew he had to listen if he had any hope of helping his brother. He had no other choice.

"The good news is, the MRI showed that the swelling is going down on its own accord. The medications we've had him on are obviously helping with that and he's pretty determined to fight and that's always important," Doctor Draper said again, somehow realising that Sam had missed half the conversation. "The bad news… well, we're not entirely sure of what's happened but Dean suffered some kind of seizure in the machine. He apparently started struggling to breathe, fighting to get out, begging for help and…"

"What?" Sam asked, seeing the hesitation on the doctor's face. "What happened?"

"He was screaming as if he were in incredible pain. There seemed to be some sort of swelling in his throat, restricting his airway and it wasn't so much a scream as a gurlge. He stopped breathing so we had to do a tracheotomy. By the time they got him out he didn't even seem able to recognise where he was or even who he was," Doctor Draper told him, his voice so serious that Sam couldn't help but gulp for air himself. "There's more. Something's attacking his body and we have no way of knowing what. After we had him sedated, we drew some blood and the results show that his kidneys are starting to fail. It might be a good idea to get yourself tested to see if you'd be a good donor. Your uncle too."

Sam nodded.

"Soon after we sedated him, he slipped into a coma," Doctor Draper continued. "I don't know what's killing him, but something is and until we know what that is I don't know how we can help him."

"How long does he have?" Sam asked, seeing Bobby walk in the room. He looked pale and had obviously heard the conversation outside, Sam's question the reason he'd finally walked in.

Once again, Doctor Draper paused.

"How long?" Sam growled, stepping toward the man that was trying to save his brothers life.

"Maybe twenty four hours," Doctor Draper answered. He saw the devastation in Sam's eyes and wished he could change things. Unless he knew what was wrong with his patient, however, there was just nothing he could do but wait. "If you have any idea what might be wrong with him-"

"None," Sam told him, though that wasn't quite true. It was just nothing that Doctor Draper would be able to help them with. "Do what you can."

Doctor Draper nodded grimly and, after a final glance at Dean, he hurried out of the room.

Bobby stood aside to allow him passed.

"You got anything?" Bobby asked, ignoring everything the doctor had said and got right down to business.

"I'm not sure," Sam admitted. "I've found one thing that might be helpful. It's usually something out of witchcraft, but there have been accounts of it happening from an angry spirit too. In witchcraft it's known as a Bloodstone Vengence Spell, but apparently when spirits have a special ability, like this drug and Ellicott's electric shock treatment, it can get into the blood and have a similar effect. From what I've read, it's pretty rare."

"How rare?" Bobby asked.

"I found two or three accounts of it happening, but they weren't very credible. The people usually at risk of this happening are people who have some sort of disturbance. Usually drugs or alcohol, which makes sense because they can't fight things off mentally the way-"

"Sam."

Sam sighed.

"I think Dean suffered this, call it a Supernatural Blood Poisoning, because of the time he spent in hell," Sam explained bitterly. "Even before that he might have been susceptible, probably since he made the deal."

Bobby shook his head, no.

"It would've started when you died," he replied, his voice low but sure. "That's when Dean started to break. When he realised that he couldn't protect you from everything. I don't think he really accepted that and when he brought you back I think he figured there would always be some sort of escape clause. Now, though…"

"There's not, and that's probably what's finished it off," Sam agreed. Bobby was making sense, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. Once again, the pain Dean was suffering was because of him. Sam just wished he could bring his brother some happiness instead of pain and torture and misery all the time.

"There a way to fix it?" Bobby asked. "Some sort of ritual?"

"Sort of, but you're not going to like it," Sam told him, finally meeting Bobby's eyes. "It's sort of a combination of blood-letting and bonding."

"Blood-letting? As in…?"

Sam nodded.

"We basically have to drain his blood, replacing it with something else, obviously. Because of the nature of his condition, we would have to replace it with my blood."

"Why you?"

"Because I'm the cause of all this."

"This isn't your fault, Sam."

"When it comes right down to it, this is all because of me, because Dean feels the need to protect me. It's always been that way, so I have to be the one who replaces the blood and, while that happens-"

"What? Sam, no… don't tell me-"

"Yup, I'll be there with him. We'll be one. My soul, or consciousness, will be in his body and I basically have to fight everything that he's seeing, everything that's affecting him. I have to bring him home."

"I've heard of this sort of thing, Sam, and even if you were able to bring him back, more often than not the spirit can't return to the body! They end up trapped, unable to find themselves again and the body just packs in and dies. While you're in Dean's head, there's nothing in your body that's keeping it alive and if you don't make it back in time-"

"It doesn't matter, Bobby," Sam told him, looking back at Dean. "He's got to learn that he can't protect me from everything and that, sometimes, I'm going to be the one who saves him. That's the key here, and if I have to die to prove it then that's what it's going to take."

Bobby got to his feet angrily, knocking the chair over so hard it ended up across the room.

"Bobby, what the hell?!"

"I talked to Dean tonight, before all of this," Bobby told him, his voice harsh as he waved his arm around to indicate the monitors and the oxygen that was keeping Dean alive. "He told me what you talked about."

Sam grimaced, knowing exactly what Bobby was referring to.

"Why is it you are in such a hurry to sacrifice yourself for each other? Why can't you see a future where you all live? Why does it even have to come down to who lives and who dies?!" Bobby yelled, pacing. He stopped and looked at Sam, lowering his voice. "I didn't tell him what happened that night, Sam. And I won't, but I still know about it. Is this the same thing?"

Sam looked away but shook his head.

"No," he whispered, tears in his voice. "It's not the same, Bobby, I swear. I have to try to save Dean, though. You have to know that I can't sit back and watch him die."

Bobby nodded.

"I know, kid," he agreed, standing by Sam's side with his hand on the young hunters shoulder. "Just don't be in such a hurry to sacrifice your own life, okay?"

"There's no choice, Bobby, and you know it."

Bobby didn't have to speak for Sam to know the truth. Bobby would never say the words, but it was clearly evident on his face in that very moment.

It was the only choice and it wasn't even a matter of which Winchester would live, it was a matter of if either of them would die.

And that, in the end, was nobody's choice.

FOR MUFFY!

Posted the night of the funeral of my beloved friend and everyone's adopted mum. I know she's never going to read this, but I guess I hope that by putting this out there the message will get through about how much she meant to me. She's the type of person that put everyone before her, she was an eternal optimist and the ultimate volunteer. She worked tirelessly with the Red Cross, volunteered at nursing homes and took the elderly shopping – even when she was pushing 65 herself! She was always a shoulder to cry on and was there for the most wonderful days of my life. She was there when I started dating the wonderful man I married, she watched us make our vows to each other and she was there the day my beautiful baby girl was born – the beautiful miracle I was told would never happen by the doctors but she somehow seemed to know better. She's what I aspire to and I hope that I can make her proud. She touched the lives of everyone she knew, and even those who hadn't met her felt the ripples she left in the world. She always said everything was wonderful, and I'm gonna fight to make sure it stays that way.

Love you, mum. Give Bert and Alyson a kiss for me, and give my babies a hug. We'll always remember and love you, I hope you know how honoured we are to have known you. We are better people for having you in our lives.