Secrets, Scars and Shotguns.

Watching the rise and fall of his brother's weak chest cut Sam deep. He had blacked out again, stopped breathing too. They had to bring him back from the point of death, and have him hooked up to a heart monitor and oxygen. His body wasn't doing well on its own. But it didn't stop there. He had internal bleeding in his abdomen from where he had knifed himself. So he was rushed to the ER. Now he lay in his bed, with an oxygen masked fixed to his head, but far from okay.

"Dean. You need this operation. Please."

"No. No. No. I am not having that operation and I am not staying here."

It was plain that the eldest Winchester was bored of being in hospital, bored of being waited on, bored of being still. Sam ignored all of his protests as did the staff. Because they couldn't let him go home. He still needs the physiological help.

Sam sighed and leaded against the metal frame of the bed. Dean caught his brother's eye, seeing a glimpse of tears.

"Sam. I'm sorry. I...I just don't want the operation." Dean Whispered.

"Are you scared?"

"What? No! Fine.” he pouted, “ Fine I'll do it."

Sam's expression didn't change, he was still as morbid as ever.

"O come on Sammy!! I agreed to the surgery what more to you want me to do?"

"I'm glad you're agreeing, because you really do need it. But really Dean what I want you to do is...get better."

"I want that too –"

"No you don't! You don't! You're a mess!"

"Maybe I like being a mess! It's who I am."

No one spoke, Sam's hands lay still on the metal, his expression still empty.

"Do you think it could be something supernatural Dean?" He asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"You mention a woman, in your dreams. I'm just trying to think, could it be something?"

"Sammy, you should know better than to listen to a crack pot like me." Dean wheezed," I'm just insane."

"Dean..." He didn't know how to reply to that, it was a blunt as a two edged razor, it was true.

"Don't try to flatter me. I don't want it."

Sam remained silent; he didn't want to discuss this further in case he hurt Dean. He moved the subject onwards, to something he just had to know. Something that was eating him inside.

"Why? Why did you try to kill yourself?"

"I didn't Sam."

"Please don't lie to me. I have to know, this is killing me, please!"

"I. Didn't. Do. It." Dean answered slowly.

"Okay! I get it!"

Angrily Sam left the room, Dean wanted to call after him, wanted to hug him and tell him it wasn't his fault and that he couldn't tell him. Wanted to, but couldn't. He wanted to tell Sam how much it killed him not being able to explain why, this was happening or what was causing it.

"Sam." His cry was feeble, hoarse and muffled by the mask," Little brother. Come back."

"Do you want me to go and talk to him?" Sarah asked placing a hand gently on Sam's shoulder.

He sat, his head in his hands, shaking. Shaking with what Sarah knew were tears, no matter how much he tried to hide it. She did her best to try and comfort him.

"No." Sam muttered," You'd be wasting your time."

Maybe she would, maybe she should just go home. Or maybe she could hit one of Dean's nerves and make him talk. It was thoughts like this that made her wonder how she ever passed as a doctor.

"I'll get us some coffee; you stay here and calm your self down."

She patted Sam on the shoulder before heading down the corridor in the complete opposite direction to the cafeteria.

"Dean?" She whispered peering around the door way.

A feeble, pale body of a man sat up. His eyes and skin may be paler, his figure weak but there was no mistake that this insult of a hunter was Dean Winchester.

"It's...you." he replied breathless," What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you." She edged closer into the room, sensing the tension.

Fear pricked through Dean's body. He met her at the bridge, she had taken his whiskey, spoke to him. He had thought he had recognised her that night but now he knew where from. It was her, the woman in his dreams. Come to haunt him, come to collect him. Or Sam. But no her hair was darker, in the dream it was silver, like the snow.

As Sarah approached Dean's bedside, it was then that the fear in his eyes shone like rubies.

"It's me Sar-"

"I know who you are." His voice quivered," I'm sorry," Tears spilled from his eyes," Don't hurt me, don't hurt Sam. Why won't you leave me alone? Are my dreams not enough for you?"

"What?" Sarah asked. She moved closer and Dean froze, still shaking.

He was sobbing uncontrollably, whispering pleas, begging her to leave. She knelt beside him and placed a hand on his arm.

"Talk to me please." She replied.

Suddenly he hit her. Her cheek hurting, throbbing. She fell softly on the ground behind her and stared frightened up into Dean's face. She was very aware of the fact it was she, and only she that Dean was afraid of, afraid so much that he would strike her.

"It's okay. It's okay. I'm leaving."

"Don't hurt Sam, or Dad. Take me instead." He whispered.

He had become nothing but a shell, his life, his confidence gone from his body. Just like before. He was broken by Sarah's appearance, she knew at once that she shouldn't have come. She stood up.

"It's me you see in your Dreams? And hear?" She asked.

Dean nodded.

"I'm the one doing this?"

Again he nodded.

"Okay. I'm going."

She left him alone, tapping and sobbing. He didn't need any more surgery, or 'help'. What he needed was a priest. An exorcism. At least that's what her first impression was. It seemed like an awful thing to do but the thing that helped him could have been breaking point and Sarah had done just that. The only way forward was a step back.