Author's Note: Well, hello there! It's been awhile, hasn't it? Sorry for the long delay! I got wrapped up in things and then season 9 started, etc. Regardless, I'm back and I hope y'all will stick around for the rest of this story. Lots of hurt!Sam coming up. Just a quick refresher for anyone who might've forgotten (which, after this long delay, I wouldn't blame you for) this is a post season 8 and AU early season 9. No Gadreel, no Mark of Cain, none of that jazz. This is straight up hurt!Sam all the way and it delves into the other characters as well. Please enjoy!

"If you can hear me now

I'm reaching out

To let you know that you're not alone."

—Nickelback, "Lullaby"

Dean was white knuckling his brother's bedside railing like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

"Dean?" Jody tried, placing a comforting hand on the eldest brother's back, rubbing small circles like she used to do to calm her own son when he'd been alive. That had been what seemed like an eternity ago now, but she had hope that it would help soothe the troubled man before her.

Sam, for his part, didn't look well. His skin was pale and beads of sweat caused some of his hair to cling to his forehead. A fever spike had caused the seizure, though no one could seem to explain how Sam had picked up the fever in the first place. All they'd managed to convey was that as soon as the youngest Winchester had been put in the MRI, he'd begun to seize. It was a short seizure—a minute tops—but it foreshadowed more complications down the road, one that Jody shuddered to think about. Happily though, for the moment, his breathing was even and his heart was, for now, beating steadily.

"This is all my fault, Jody." Dean breathed, raggedly, emotion clogging his voice. One hand released its grip and he ran it through his hair, as if the motion would awaken him from this nightmare. "I never should've let him go through with the trials. I should've stopped him—" His voice cut off and he looked away, ashamed, as a tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away and immediately, returned to the stoic expression she'd seen the moment they'd been allowed to see Sam.

Now, Jody had no idea what these "trials" were or what exactly had happened before her arrival and frankly, she didn't care. What was in the past was just that—the past. There was no use in worrying about it; no use in wishing things could've been different. She'd done that too many times before after her son's death, after Bobby's and the one thing she learned was that nothing changed. They had to deal with the here and now.

"Dean Winchester," She started, in her best matronly tone. It must've worked for he startled and met her gaze. "It wasn't your fault."

"But—"

She held a hand up, deaf to all protests.

"I know Sam. There's no way he would've done anything unless he wanted to." She spoke confidently. "Your brother knew the risks and he took them."

"I never should've let him, Jody!" Dean roared, grief flashing like lightning in his eyes. "I was supposed to do them. I knew the risks! But then, Sam went and got in the way and now, look at him!" The rage seemed to drain out of him at the sight of his brother's unconscious state. "His heart is failing and I have no idea what to do to help him." He sighed softly. "There's no way to fix this."

"Hey now," Jody cautioned quietly, coming to stand next to side. "Don't talk like that." She smiled at him and then glanced down at Sam. With a tenderness that she let few ever see, she moved a few strands of hair from his forehead back to rest on the pillow. "You're not alone in this, Dean."

A pause; the beeping of Sam's heart monitor echoed in the room. Then, with a voice barely above a whisper,

"Thank you, Jody."

The Sheriff just pulled him to her and hugged him.

One way or another they would save Sam, together.

"He's fine." Mariah concluded, pulling her hair hastily up into a bun. The auburn locks were starting to grey at the roots—she'd been swamped with work last week, causing her to miss her hair appointment—and she chided herself for even thinking of her hair at a time like this. Glancing at the young prophet asleep on the bed before her—Kevin, she believed his name was—she sighed. The teen clearly had been pushed to his breaking point tonight. Though, what triggered his suicide attempt remained to be seen, she couldn't blame him for freaking out. Angels were falling from the sky, the Winchesters were MIA and Crowley was suddenly acting like a gentlemen. What the hell was happening?

"Dr. Tate." Hannah tapped her foot, every inch of her petite 5ft 2 frame the exaggeration of impatience. Her golden locks were down once more and her black hairband rested on her wrist. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Yes, do tell." Crowley cooed, though he seemed to grimace with every step he took in the bunker.

"I see the wards are working on you." Mariah chuckled darkly and Crowley shrugged.

"I'm mostly human, my dear." He retorted. "Doesn't mean that these bloody wards don't hurt any less, though this time, they're just zapping me instead of killing me."

"Oh, that's a shame." Mariah mocked and immediately, Hannah marched over to her, arms on her hips.

"Dr. Tate!" She snapped, voice nearly cracking with hysteria. "What the fuck is going on here?"

Mariah blinked, taken aback by the foul language her intern had chosen to use. Usually, Hannah was the most polite woman in the world. Apparently she had reached her breaking point.

"Seriously!" Hannah exclaimed. "First, people fall from the sky," She gestured to Crowley. "Then, this guy shows up and you say he isn't even human." She leaned in, almost conspiratorially. "Do you want to let me in on the secret now?"

"Yes, do tell." Crowley laughed. "I would love to hear how you explain all this chaos to someone as innocent as her."

"You!" Hannah spun around, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Shut your mouth! This conversation doesn't need your input."

"You're lucky I'm not at my full power, blondie." Crowley stated darkly, with a grimace. "Otherwise, you'd be dead by now."

Her intern immediately backed down, a shiver running through her.

"Hannah, look, I know this is crazy." Mariah began. "But I have to make a call, okay? Just hold on for a few more minutes."

"Dr. Tate—" She warned, and Mariah threw her hands up in submission.

"I promise, just two minutes!" She didn't give her intern a chance to protest further and immediately pulled out her cellphone. Stepping towards the hall, she hit her speed dial and prayed someone would pick up.

"Garth." The normally chipper voice growled.

"Garth?" She balked and then quickly added, "This is Mariah Tate. I'm the doctor from—"

"I know you." Garth stated bluntly. "You've taken care of quite a few of us."

"I try to." She supplied. "Listen, I need a favor."

"Shoot."

"I can't get a hold of Sam and Dean." She lowered her voice. "I need to talk to them. I'm at the bunker and there's no one but Kevin—"

"Kevin?" Garth echoed. "Is he okay? Balls, as soon as all this craziness started, I didn't even think to check on him."

"He's a little shaken up." The doctor confessed. "But Garth, Sam and Dean aren't here and I'm worried."

There was silence on the other line.

"Garth?" She tried again.

He let out a long breath and she stiffened, dread surging through her system like a river. Something was wrong—horribly wrong—and she had to be prepared. Bad things happened to hunters. Losing John had taught her that no matter how many years of experience or how easy the hunt, bad things happened. But if anything happened to those boys—

"Sam's been admitted to the hospital in Parsons, Kansas."

"No." She shook her head, willing it not to be true.

"Dean's okay, but Sam's not . . ."

"Garth, please." She was crying now, but it didn't matter, she didn't matter. Those boys—those two boys that she had a privilege to see grow up—they were what mattered and if one was them was hurt, then she had to go to them.

"His heart is failing."

The phone slipped out of her hand and clanged to the floor.

"Dr. Tate?" Hannah called from the other room, but to Mariah, it was barely above a whisper. The room seems to blur around her as her mind tries to grapple with the information she just received. She knew what heart failure meant—how it could be a death sentence—and she shook her head, trying to break free of those negative thoughts.

Regaining control of herself, she picked up the phone once more.

"Garth?" She didn't give him time to respond. "Let them know I'm on my way, okay?"

And with that, she hung up.

"Dr. Tate," Hannah started, storming into the room, but upon seeing her mentor, she froze. "What's wrong?"

Mariah wiped a tear away and forced herself to go into her calm, collected, doctor-mode. This was no time to wallow. The boys needed her.

"We're going to Parsons." She announced, moving back to the main room with Hannah at her heels.

"But—" Hannah protested.

"Crowley." Mariah glared at him. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, but I can't leave you here either."

The King of Hell smirked, "Growing fond of me, are you, Mariah?"

"Just shut up and get into the car."

"As you wish." He bowed dramatically before straightening up and moving outside.

"Dr. Tate, you still haven't told me what's going on!" She practically shirked, like a sullen child.

"It'll have to wait. We have a patient to treat."

At the mention of that, Hannah's demeanor completely shifted.

"Is that so?" Her intern started. "Do they know what it is?"

"Heart failure." Mariah practically hissed, still upset by it.

"We'll take a second look." The blonde reassured her mentor and Mariah rewarded her with a small grin. Then, gesturing to the prophet, she asked, "What about him?"

Mariah grimaced at the prospect of moving him. Still, they couldn't leave him here.

"We'll take him too. Help me lift him."

With everyone secured not even five minutes later, Mariah gunned the engine and raced out on to the main road.

She was coming.

Charlie had to admit; she could see why the books described Castiel as dreamy.

Now that she'd finally gotten him into some clean clothes, cleaned up the dirt from his face and tucked him in, she could see how handsome he was. Asleep, he matched the description of an angel and without any of the burdens weighing down his shoulders; he seemed as innocent as a child. If she were straight, she'd fall for him in an instant. As it stood, she felt a bond between them. They were both friends of Sam and Dean and that meant that the former angel was important to them, which in turn, made him important to her. She hadn't felt any reluctance stopping to help him. She still didn't feel any now.

Yet, now that he was human, he needed her help too. Dean couldn't be there to support him like Castiel was used to—in fact, the eldest Winchester was way too angry to even speak to the former angel, so that had to be remedied first—so, she had to step in.

She'd never even met him before this and yet, Charlie couldn't help but admit that she wanted to help take care of him. She wanted to give him a safety net, like the Winchesters had done for her. Until Sam was better, she would have to look after Castiel.

He shifted, brow furrowing. He moaned softly under his breath, a grimace marring his angelic visage.

"Nightmare." Charlie deduced. She'd never attempted this before, trying to comfort someone else, but she had to try. She was no longer the girl that avoided human contact. The Winchesters had shown her that there was more to family than blood. She could do this.

Climbing on to the bed, she hesitated a moment. Then, steeling herself, she reached for the new human's hand and held it securely within her own.

"It's okay, Castiel." She murmured, trying to remember how her own mother used to comfort her. "You're safe."

He stilled under her touch and she smiled to herself.

Releasing him, she got off the bed and checked the covers once more to make sure he was securely covered. She'd already left a post it for him on the phone to call her when he woke up. Hopefully, Dean had already covered phone basics with the former angel otherwise this would be tricky.

She had to get back to the boys.

"Sleep well, Castiel."

He didn't move and with a small chuckle, she let the hotel room close behind her.

Maybe some good things would come out of this after all.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please review if you have a moment.