Story Summary: A multi-chaptered story of one-shots that follow Sam and Dean when they decide they're done with the Angels and Demons. They've had enough and decide to get out. They're going back to the basics, back to being hunters. They're going back to "saving people, hunting things, the family business".
Story Info: The story will be made up of chapters that can technically stand as one-shots as well as be read together as a story. There will be little plot lines that go through each installment but nothing major. This will never be a death!fic and there will be absolutely no slash. There will be no set schedule for updates, just whenever I finish the next one and get it up.
Participants: Mostly Sam and Dean, and eventually Castiel but will also feature Kevin, Garth, Charlie, and other minor characters
Warnings: Completely AU following the end of Season 8. There will be mild language and there will be various kinds of violence. I will put a warning at the beginning of each chapter. If it can be considered a warning, there will be massive brotherly love and fluff in probably every chapter. There will probably be spoilers, things from the entire series mentioned and maybe described or used so be aware of that.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for maybe the plot, or lack thereof. Everything belongs to the CW and the creators of Supernatural. I am gaining nothing of monetary value from this writing.
Chapter Summary: The third trial is left incomplete. The Angels have been cast out of Heaven. Dean is left holding his dying brother in his arms and then must race him to the nearest hospital to save his life. Through it all he knows one thing: he's done, they both are. They are done with the Angels and Demons so they make a decision. They decide they're getting out, they're going back to basics.
Chapter Warnings: Mild language. Descriptions of blood, lots of it. Brotherly love and fluff.
Family Business
Dean held Sam tight against him as they leaned against the Impala and watched the Angels fall. They had absolutely no idea what was happening only that the lights in the sky that looked like shooting stars were actually all Angels falling from Heaven. For those who knew exactly what was happening, it was actually a terrifying sight and thought.
Dean pulled Sam closer—though that was long since an impossible move—when he felt Sam's chest hitch and his body give a violent shudder. Sam's breathing was ragged and Dean found himself internally freaking out about what could be happening inside Sam's body.
His phone rang. Keeping his hold on Sam and watching the gold lights of Angels continue to light up the sky, he worked at pulling his phone out of his pocket. He tapped the screen and put it to his ear.
"Kevin?" he said, brushing his other hand through Sam's hair when Sam gave a brutal cough that shook the both of them. He cringed at the blood that now flecked Sam's lips.
"Dean, what's happening? The entire bunker just lit up," the young Prophet said.
Dean glanced at the falling Angels again and squeezed Sam, letting his head fall back against the Impala. "It's so beyond our pay grade, Kevin," he said. Good lord, how long would it take for the Angels to stop falling?
"What's going on?"
"The Angels have been thrown out of Heaven. They're all falling to Earth," Dean said and blinked at the absurd words.
"I don't even know if there's a response to that."
Dean snorted humourlessly. "What's happening back there?"
"Nothing except the map is completely lit up. The entire thing is a giant light."
"Freakin' Angels," Dean muttered.
"Are the Angels going to have all their powers still?"
"Good question," Dean said with a sigh.
"Um, Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"What happened? With Sam? The trial?"
Dean looked at his brother still collapsed against his chest, still shuddering and coughing and basically sounding like he was dying. For all he knew, Sam was dying despite that not being an option. Should he bring Sam to a hospital? What if there was something seriously supernaturally wrong and going to a hospital only caused problems? What if not going meant Sam died?
"Dean?"
"Yeah, that's over. Sam didn't finish the trial. It was going to kill him if he didn't pull out," Dean said, putting his hand on Sam's forehead when his brother's shaking increased almost violently.
"And now?"
Dean sighed again. "It's not good, Kevin. I don't know exactly what's wrong but he needs help."
"Hospital?"
"I don't know," Dean said and closed his eyes. "I don't know."
"You have to get out of there."
"Yeah, I'm aware," Dean said and looked around, the night still lit up by the Angels. "All right, we're leaving as soon as Sam's able. Don't leave the bunker. Don't even go near the door until we get there. Got it?"
"Got it. Just...be careful, yeah?"
"Kid, I think that ship is long gone," Dean said and hung up on Kevin's short laugh. "So, Sam," he said casually as though he wasn't watching his brother possibly die or the Angels being cast out of Heaven.
He shifted to allow both of his arms to wrap around Sam and sighed for the third time. He could honestly say that he didn't have a single idea what to do. Thoughts of not wanting to know were drifting through his mind too. Everything just got a whole lot more complicated and he wasn't sure he had the energy to deal with it. Honestly, the only thing he cared about was his little brother fighting for his life in Dean's own arms.
"Sam?" Dean said, giving every bit of his attention to Sam. "Sam, talk to me."
Sam coughed again, spraying blood across Dean's jacket and shirt. Dean moved again so he could tip Sam's head back and see Sam's face. Sam was pale and flushed all at once. His eyes were closed and, besides the involuntary shudders, he didn't move but Dean knew he was conscious. He brushed back Sam's bangs and slid his hand to cup Sam's cheek. His lips twitched into a smile when Sam turned into the touch. Blood covered Sam's lips and chin and was beginning to soak the neck of his shirt. The blood was not helping his fear of internal bleeding.
"Sam?"
Sam moaned and coughed again.
"Take your time. You're okay. We're fine." He pointedly ignored the still falling Angels. Honestly, how many were there? He moved his hand to the back of Sam's head and waited for Sam to gather enough strength to speak despite Sam needing medical care.
"D'n?"
Dean looked down and smiled when he saw Sam's eyes were cracked open.
"Hey, little brother."
"'appenin'?"
"Ah, you know. The usual. Possibly dying, world going to hell, Angels falling from the sky," Dean said and smiled at the breathy huff that was meant to be a laugh.
"Hospital?"
"I'm debating," Dean said. "You feel up to moving and getting the hell out of town?"
"Maybe," Sam said but neither of them so much as twitched.
"How do you feel?"
"I feel like it's going to be weeks before I'm even remotely better," Sam mumbled. "Can't tell if I'm dying or not."
"Awesome," Dean said. "Definitely going to the nearest hospital. Ready to move?"
"Am I allowed to say no?" Sam said and Dean chuckled.
"You can but I won't listen," Dean said, shifting around so he could get a grip on Sam to get them both standing. It took time and manoeuvring but he was eventually settling Sam into the passenger's seat. He didn't comment on Sam's tears. He didn't know if they were from pain or the trial or just their life in general at the moment. He had a feeling it was everything all twisted together.
He shook his head and got in the driver's seat. He looked at Sam who was curled against the door as much as he could be. Then his heart dropped when Sam began coughing, sounding like he was trying to get rid of his lungs and blood started going everywhere.
"Sam!"
Sam was beyond the ability of speech. He was torn between coughing, being unable to breath, and throwing up. Two out of the three involved an increasing amount of blood loss as he continued to give the Impala's interior a new decor. He held his right hand over his mouth as though it would stop the blood and coughing. His left hand was flailing, trying to find anything solid to grasp to ground him. He was, of course, hoping for something specific but was unable to make the request. Luckily his big brother was Dean which meant he could've been paralyzed and in a coma, and Dean would still know what he needed. Dean's hand grasped his and he held on as tight as he could.
He could feel the car speeding along the road and he knew Dean was severely breaking every speed limit.
He held tight to Dean and tried to listen to his brother's reassurances even as he knew this was it. He knew it was over. They should've known that the trials would kill him whether he finished or not. It had been evident in the way he had gotten steadily sicker as he finished each trial. He was done now.
He supposed he was okay with dying if only because he probably didn't have a choice. He didn't want to die but he wasn't sure he could be saved this time. He didn't want to die but, even more than that, he didn't want to leave Dean. They had left each other alone so many times in so many ways and he didn't want to do it again. He knew Dean would not survive losing him again, not this time. Besides, they were finally becoming brothers again. They had been closer since the trials started than they had been since Dad died. He didn't want to miss the chance to make that growing bond stronger once again.
There was one thing positive in dying. Just one thing though. He would be able to get away from the insanity of the Angels and Demons, particularly the Angels now. He didn't mind the hunting life—anymore—but he was sick of the wars and the Angels and the Demons. He was sick of Angels and Demons toying with his and Dean's lives, their relationship. He was done with the Angels and Demons. He wanted to go back to when it was cases and Wendigos and ghosts and werewolves. Leaving behind the campaign in Hell and the hell that was Heaven and the hell on Earth was the only plus side to dying.
In between the thinking and the coughing and the bleeding, it took some time to realize the car was no longer moving. He could also hear Dean shouting even if he couldn't understand the words. He was soon being moved and a towel was being pushed to his mouth, but even through all that he could still feel his hand firmly clasped in Dean's.
He was laid out on a gurney but he stayed on his side as the blood continued to come. How wasn't he in a coma or dead from blood loss yet? Surely he had coughed up more than he had in his body.
There were voices everywhere even when his bed started moving, but it was his brother's that he forced himself to focus on.
"Sammy...surgery...be okay...be here...waiting..."
He couldn't follow the full sentences but he got the essentials. He attempted to speak past the blood and constriction in his chest, an attempt that sapped all of his remaining energy.
"D'n...out...done...busi..."
"Yeah, yeah...fine...talk later...okay...Sammy..."
Then he felt Dean's hand slip from his and he was taken alone into the OR.
"Sam!"
Dean's heart stopped painfully in his chest as Sam curled forward with his wrenching coughs and the blood began to pretty much pour from his brother's mouth. He could hear Sam fighting to breathe and saw the tears start to pour down his face. Dean winced at the blood now dripping from Sam's right hand as Sam made a desperate attempt to quell the bleeding.
Sam's reaching left hand was all the gesture he needed to know what Sam wanted. He immediately grasped his brother's hand and squeezed as he threw the car into drive and took off. He ignored every speed limit sign and just pushed the Impala to go faster and faster. He kept a hold of Sam's hand and cast him desperate, worried glances every three seconds.
"Hang on, Sammy, you're gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine, just hold on for me. Hang on for me, little brother. Don't you check out yet, it's not time. We go together or not at all, remember? Well, I'm not ready so looks like you've gotta stick around."
He kept up a continuous stream of words, whether for himself or Sam or both, he didn't know. Sam had, of course, been coughing and throwing up blood since basically the beginning of the trials but it was never more than a few drops in the palm. This...this was terrifying. There was already a pool of blood at Sam's feet, his jeans were soaked, and blood dripped down the dashboard over the glove box.
He felt his own eyes burn as he once more glanced at Sam who fought for a breath while expelling what had to be his weight in blood. Even in his job as a hunter, he had never seen so much blood and to have it coming from his little brother made his heart shatter.
He couldn't lose Sam, not again, not now. There was no way he could handle losing Sam again, especially not to death when there would be no way to get him back this time. There would be no Demon deals or the equivalent of Angel deals. There would be no bets with Death. There would be no Trickster—Archangel, whatever—to hunt down and make reality return. There would be no Castiel stepping in. Sam would be dead...gone, for good.
And that was something he just couldn't accept. He would not—could not—live in a world with Sam dead, just like all those years ago in Cold Oak. True, he had managed that year Sam was in Lucifer's Cage. Well, thought to be in the Cage but really running around soulless. He'd only gotten by the year he was with Lisa and Ben. Yes, he had loved them, still did and always would, but he'd only survived. He hadn't lived and he hadn't been happy.
"And as long as he's in your life, you're never gonna be happy."
Lisa's words floated through the hell that was currently his mind. He blinked at the words and knew it was so far from the truth. Lisa didn't understand, never had and never would. He would only be happy if Sam was in his life. He couldn't be happy without the kid, couldn't live.
Was their relationship co-dependent and unhealthy the way Lisa said it was? Hell yeah, but she would never understand why or how it worked. They were a part of each other and you can't live with a piece of you missing.
He put the gas to the floor when he saw a sign for a hospital only just up the road.
"Hang on, Sammy, we're almost there," Dean said, squeezing Sam's hand and wincing at the blood staining his car as it exited his brother's body.
He took that last corner quite fast and nearly ran another car off the road. Later, had it happened, he would've cared but with Sam's life on the line, he could care less about anything other than Sam. He raced through the hospital's parking lot, hitting the brakes only when they were nearly in the ER.
He threw his door open and leaned out as far as he could while still holding onto Sam.
"Help! Someone help! Hey! Somebody help me!" he yelled, waving his left hand and then used his knee to hit the horn. He yelled until nurses were surrounding his car and growled at them when they told him to get out of the car, to let Sam go.
He had no idea how they managed but they got Sam out of the car and on a gurney with a towel in his face all without Dean losing his hold on Sam's hand. That towel had been a beige colour but now it was completely red and blood was dripping from it. As they raced into the hospital, the nurses tried to get Sam to lie on his back but Dean snapped at them.
"If he lies on his back, he'll not only be unable to breathe but he'll choke on his blood!" Dean said angrily, glaring at the young woman who was stupid enough to suggest it. "Don't you dare restrain my brother!" he shouted, making all the nurses jump, including the woman holding the padded straps that she was about to secure to Sam's wrists.
After a long staring contest as they ran through the hospital, the nurse nodded stiffly and dropped the restraints. Dean looked down at Sam and saw the blood had slowed minutely, though he wasn't sure if that was good or not.
"Sammy?"
"Sir, we have to get him to the OR. You will have to wait here," one of the nurses said.
"Can I come to the doors at least? It'll keep him calm."
"Yes, you may."
"Thank you," Dean said and returned to Sam. "Sammy? Sammy, they're taking you to surgery. You're gonna be okay and I'm gonna be right here waiting for you. All right?"
His eyes widened when he noticed Sam trying to gain some control, enough to speak.
"D'n...out...done...busi..."
Dean frowned. He had a feeling he knew what Sam was saying but he wouldn't dwell. They would discuss it later.
"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. We'll talk later about it, all right? You're gonna be okay. You'll be okay and I'll be here, Sammy."
They were at the doors to the OR and he was forced to finally release Sam's hand. He stared at the swinging doors as they made Sam disappear from his sight.
He ran his hands over his hair but pulled away when he felt his hair grow damp. He looked at his hands and felt ill at all the blood that covered them, especially his right. He had no problem with blood, not unless it was his brother's. He could feel how badly he was shaking now and began to feel extremely light headed.
"Sir? Sir?"
He blinked at the twenty-something girl that was now standing next to him. He looked blankly at her bright yellow scrubs.
"Sir, can you hear me? Sir, are you all right? Do you need any help?"
"Dean," he said without thinking. "'M Dean."
"Dean," she repeated with a smile. "All right, Dean, come take a seat. You need to relax and then fill out the information for your brother."
She was one of the nurses that had helped get Sam on the gurney. She had disappeared into the hospital again after that.
He didn't feel her take his arm and he would never recall walking away from the OR and to the waiting room. At some point he was given a damp cloth and he mechanically wiped the blood from his hands. He was also given a clipboard and pen with instructions to fill it out but take his time. He got as far as writing 'Sam' as Sam's first name before shoving the paperwork aside and burying his face in his hands.
His hands still had a tint of red to them and they smelled rusty, like blood. He shoved his fingers through his hair and then braced his arms on his legs, clasping his hands tightly and dropping his head. He made the noise of the hospital background noise and tried not to think of Sam's chances of dying. He was vaguely aware of the other people in the waiting room but tried to ignore them, including the weeping thirty-something woman two seats away.
"Excuse me, Dean?"
A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped to his feet, ready to attack. His movement made the nurse in yellow scrubs jump back in surprise, her eyes wide.
"Sorry," he muttered, not really meaning it.
"Dean, we need to move your car. We wanted to see if you wanted to move it or have security move it?"
Dean blinked, slowly processing the question. "I'll move it," he finally said. The nurse nodded with a smile and returned to the nurse's station.
He absently searched his pockets for his keys but came up empty. He realized then he had left the keys in the car. Hell, he had left his door open and left the car running. Now he was surprised the car hadn't been stolen. He shook his head and went outside to the Impala that was only a couple feet from being parked in the ER doors.
As he dropped in the driver's seat, his eyes were pulled to the blood that covered the entire right side of the car. He had meant to ignore the blood but that was obviously impossible. He was going to have to rip out that entire side and replace it. He would never be able to wash all the blood out.
He swallowed and tore his eyes from the blood. He put the car in reverse and pulled away from the hospital. He parked in the first spot he found and immediately returned to the waiting room, his keys in his pocket this time. He sat heavily in his previous seat. The clipboard was still on the chair next to him where he had tossed it.
He took a deep breath and made himself pick the board up again. This was one thing he could do for his brother, at least until he was out of surgery and in a room recovering.
He didn't bother with an alias and put 'Winchester' as Sam's surname. He didn't bother with fake insurance. They would figure that out later. He put down Sam's birthday, medical history, allergies, and reason for visit. He put down his own information and cell number as Sam's emergency contact and living family. He wrote in their family history and left an address blank. He waved the nurse over—finally noticing her name was Jen—and handed her the board without a word. When she took it and tried to ask about his insurance and a home address, he just glared at her until she scurried away with wide eyes.
"Stop scaring the nurses, dude," he could hear Sam say in his head and he rolled his eyes. The kid was in life-saving surgery and he was still chastising Dean.
He ran a hand over his face and sat back in the hard chair, exhausted as he lost his adrenaline. With the disappearance of that adrenaline, he could feel the shaking of his entire body, the pounding behind his eyes, and the burning in his eyes. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop any threatening tears.
He knew his attempts were failing when his phone rang. He ignored the caller ID and automatically answered.
"Dean?"
"Hey, Kevin."
"What's going on? Where are you?"
"Hospital."
"Where? What hospital?"
"I honestly have no idea," Dean said. "I stopped at the first one I found."
"Why? What happened?"
"It's Sam. He, uh," Dean trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "He's bad, real bad. He started coughing and bleeding and it wouldn't stop. He—they took him for surgery."
"How long ago?"
Dean glanced at his watch and blinked in surprise. "An hour and ten minutes."
"No news?"
"No, nothing yet."
There was silence on the line for a time.
"I'm sure he'll be okay. It's Sam. He's gotten through a lot. He can get through this too."
"Yeah," was all Dean said. "What's happening there?"
"Everything's normal, even the map. It's like nothing happened. You think it was the Angels falling?"
"Probably."
"What are we going to do?"
"Another good question," Dean said, sighing. "We'll deal with it when Sam isn't in danger of bleeding to death."
"Right."
"I'll call you later, let you know about Sam."
"Okay, yeah."
Dean hung up and closed his hand in a fist around his phone, pressing it against his forehead and closing his eyes again. He felt every last bit of energy leave him and did nothing about the tears that coursed down his cheeks.
"Mr. Winchester? Mr. Winchester, wake up."
Despite his life and job and training and the situation, Dean woke up slowly. He blinked and rubbed one eye while looking around, trying to remember what was happening.
"Mr. Winchester?"
He turned his head to look at the owner of the voice. He stared at the woman blankly.
Then every detail rushed back and he sat up quickly with wide eyes. He had lain down on the tiny loveseat that barely fit his upper body. He glanced down at his watch.
Seven and a half hours. He had been at the hospital for seven and a half hours. Sam had been in surgery for seven and a half hours.
"Mr. Winchester?"
He looked at the nurse—Jen—again and took in her worried expression. It made his heart sink. That was the look the doctors had when they were about to tell you something had gone seriously wrong.
"What's wrong? How's Sam?" he said anxiously.
"Your brother is out of surgery. He is being kept in the ICU for the next twenty-four hours. He is still in danger but not as much," Jen said.
"What was wrong?"
"He had massive internal bleeding and his kidneys, liver, and lungs were shutting down. His heart rate was so fast we feared a heart attack. He had a very high fever and it is still there, but it has been lowered. As I said, he is still in danger and so he's in the ICU for observation."
"Is he...dying?"
"Currently, no. A lot can happen in twenty-four hours but he does have a chance," Jen said. "Would you like to see him now?"
"Yes."
She nodded and motioned for Dean to follow her. "He is in bad shape and he looks it, but try to remain calm. He is hooked up to several machines and has a ventilator helping him breathe. It is unlikely he will wake up until tomorrow. I will let the others know that you are staying and not to bother you."
"Thank you," Dean said and walked into the room occupied by his brother.
He stopped when he saw Sam. There were tubes everywhere and the white sheets made Sam look even paler. His eyes were dark, looking badly bruised. He hated the sight of the tube in his brother's throat. It was nice that Sam was no longer covered in his own blood. His bangs were sticking to his forehead from the fever and, besides his eyes and chest, he didn't move. His little brother did not look like the thirty year old man he was. He looked like Dean's baby brother again, in need of his big brother's protection.
He ran a hand over his face and approached the bed. He reached for a chair and set it next to the bed, sitting down heavily. He reached a hand out and hesitated only a moment for fear of hurting Sam further before taking Sam's hand in his own. He gripped it tight, wishing Sam would hold back.
He swallowed thickly and squeezed Sam's hand hard.
"Sammy?" he said, ignoring the way his voice shook. "Come on, man, don't do this."
But Sam remained silent, still, and unconscious.
"Sammy, now is not the time to ignore me," Dean said, knowing he was being ridiculous. "Listen to your big brother for once, dude."
A response never came and tears burned his eyes once again. He dropped his head and tried to hold back on the breakdown he knew was coming at some point. He bent over until he was resting his forehead on the bed next to their clasped hands.
He wouldn't remember falling asleep but he did so quickly as everything finally caught up to him and he was unable to continue for that day.
"They're saying it was an unexpected meteor shower," Kevin said and Dean rolled his eyes. He kept watching the almost silent TV as the news continued and he shook his head as the news woman said the same thing as Kevin.
'Last night we experienced an unexpected meteor shower and it was seen all over the world. We have yet to know why such a large shower was unknown to meteorologists but we are being kept informed, and will provide you with an explanation when we receive one.'
"See this madness, Sammy?" Dean said amusedly to his still unconscious brother as he let his thumb unconsciously rub his brother's wrist. They had been at the hospital for three days. Sam had been moved from the ICU to a regular room and that's where Dean had been camped out for the last two days. The doctors said Sam was stable but was still in extremely bad shape and they honestly didn't think he would wake up.
He figured Sam wouldn't be pleased to learn he had punched the doctor that said it. Just because the doctors were too stupid to give his brother a chance did not excuse stupid comments.
The ventilator was gone to be replaced with the little plastic tube that sat under Sam's nose. That was really the only change. Sam still had about three IVs and monitors everywhere.
"Any change?"
Dean sighed. "No, nothing yet."
"What did the doctor say?"
"Before or after I broke his nose?"
"Ah, so he said Sam won't wake up," Kevin said, sounding amused despite the serious situation. "I thought doctors were supposed to be smart?"
"Some of them clearly missed that class," Dean said and Kevin chuckled. "Have you heard from Cas?"
"No. I've been praying and calling his phone but he's not answering," Kevin said. "You think something happened to him when the Angels fell?"
"I'm starting to think so," Dean said. "He was with Metatron and I think they were in Heaven."
"So the real question is was Cas involved in the Angels falling or was he made to fall too?"
Dean briefly took his hand from Sam to run it down his face, pressing his fingertips to his eyes, before taking Sam's wrist again.
"There's also the question of do we really want to know?"
Kevin sighed too on the other end of the line. "I've been looking through the Demon Tablet but, obviously, it's about the Demons so not much Angel talk."
"Forget about it, Kevin. Forget the tablet for now. Take a break, a long break. Get some rest and eat a real meal. The kitchen should be stocked."
"Umm..."
"We're all taking a break, Kevin. We need to get back on our feet, figure out what we want to do," Dean said and could hear Kevin's frown.
"You're not going to do something stupid, are you?" Kevin said and Dean rolled his eyes.
"What exactly am I going to do?"
"Exactly."
Dean grinned. "Go sleep, Kevin. Try to look less like a zombie when we get home."
"Dick."
Dean chuckled and hung up. He looked at Sam and knew his expression softened like a girl. He rolled his eyes at himself. "I'm ready to go home, Sam, and I know you are too. Plus we need to get back and take care of Kevin."
He watched Sam breathe for a while, just thinking about everything happening. There were things they had to talk about, things they had to make decisions about. They had to get back to Kevin if just because he missed the Prophet. They had to at least know what happened to Cas even if they didn't actually find him.
They just had to get home.
"I don't really know what we're gonna do but that's why you need to wake up, so we can figure it out. I'm not doing this myself so you might as well wake up. If you leave, I'm going to sit back and watch the world implode. Okay, so that's something we'll be talking about, if we're staying in this or not, but that will be our decision and what we do together. Well, and Kevin. We have no idea about his mother, whether Crowley was lying or not when he said he killed her, so we've gotta watch out for him. We've gotta keep Garth from influencing him too much and we have to make sure Garth doesn't get himself killed.
"We've gotta figure out what the hell Cas is up to or involved in now. Who knows, maybe news of the Angels has reached Charlie in her castle and she'll make an appearance. I know you'd like to see her again. I know you miss her. I do too. I'll call her if you wake up so she can come stumbling in here and make you smile. Gotta get you smiling again, little brother.
"It's time to go home, Sammy, and when we do, we are redecorating your room. It's your room, kiddo, so act like it. I know you've been keeping the bunker more 'business' but that's over. You're going to learn what it's like to have a real home so you better be ready. We are filling your room with all those books and geeky things you keep everywhere except your room. I think I'm going to knock that wall down between our rooms, though, put in sliding doors. Maybe get those paper doors like in Japan. Be able to hear everything and if, for some reason, the door doesn't open, I can just rip through it."
Dean fell silent then, considering his little brother. Sam still looked ill and injured and small, but not as bad. His eyes weren't as dark or maybe he wasn't as pale. From the outside you would never know that almost anything could make Sam start bleeding or make his organs start shutting down again. Even if Sam woke up, the doctors said he might never be able to leave the hospital. They seemed to think it was only the machines keeping Sam alive.
Kevin was right. Weren't doctors supposed to be smart?
Dropping his phone in his lap, he lifted his legs to rest his feet on the bed and leaned back in his chair. Still holding onto Sam, still rubbing the wrist with his thumb, he grabbed the TV remote and searched for something to watch. He smiled indulgently as he stopped on some history-documentary channel and sat back to watch the speculations on the Bermuda Triangle.
Dean frowned but tried to ignore the odd sensation on his wrist. It was a feather-light touch and something was moving across his skin. More asleep than awake, it took an embarrassingly long time to remember the black rubber bracelet that he had on that wrist. The question of what was moving across his skin was answered, it was his bracelet. Now, why was it moving and what else was touching him?
It didn't seem dangerous which was probably a good thing since he still hadn't come any farther out of sleep. He wanted to go back to sleep but something was telling him to stay awake, well, telling him to wake up. He groaned, wanting to ignore that something. He rolled his head and twitched his hand, frowning at the quiet, soft laugh. Who was laughing?
He made himself follow his feeling and that laugh, and forced his eyes open. It took effort—a lot of it—but soon he was trying to see through blurry vision. He heard the laugh again and turned his head to the sound. He knew that laugh though he hadn't heard it for years, only a fake version. He had missed that laugh but knew it was gone. So why was he hearing it now?
His vision clearing brought into focus a weary but smiling face. A face that had been still and closed off for nine and a half days. He glanced at the clock. Nope, ten days and five hours now. A face he had been told to say goodbye to because it would never wake up.
It was awake.
It was looking at him.
It was smiling at him.
"Sammy."
Sam smiled again. "Hey, De," he whispered, his voice hoarse and weak and tired, but clearly happy. Dean's name was shortened to the version used by a chubby toddler Sammy unable to say 'Dean' fully.
It was the best word in the world. He might have to change his name just to hear that term that proved Sammy was awake, was alive.
He looked down at his arm, feeling that touch on his wrist again. It was Sam. Upon waking and noticing Dean, he had apparently taken his hand out from under Dean's. Instead he was playing with the bracelet on Dean's wrist, something he had done as a child and had taken to doing when he was hurt or upset in place of the lost amulet.
"Sam."
"Yeah, De."
Dean felt his eyes fill with tears as he stared at his little brother. He could care less about the way he was acting, that he was doing his own chick flick moment.
He reached out to brush Sam's hair, unable to believe how close he had come once again to losing this kid. His hand dropped to Sam's cheek and his heart stuttered with happiness and love when Sam smiled fondly and relaxed under the touch. Sam was still playing with the bracelet but never moved his eyes from Dean's. Dean slid his hand to Sam's neck and Sam's eyes closed at the familiar comfort. Dean squeezed gently.
"Never do that to me again," he finally hissed though it was no more than a whisper.
Sam's eyes opened and, with another smile, he nodded.
"God, Sammy," Dean breathed, feeling his control slipping.
"I'll be okay, De."
Dean ignored the few tears that hit his cheeks. He just stared at his baby brother.
"De?"
"Yeah, Sammy?"
"Talk 'bout somethin'?"
Dean blinked away his tears the best he could. "You need to rest."
"Will, just..."
Dean sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position without ever taking his hands from Sam. "All right, talk."
Sam bit his lip, clearly thinking about what he wanted to say. "I want to get out."
"Out? Out of where? The hospital? Not yet, Sammy, you just woke up and you're in bad shape."
"No, not that. De," Sam took a breath, "I don't wanna deal with Angels anymore, or Demons."
"You wanna stop hunting?" Dean said hesitantly.
"No, that's the thing. I want to go back to hunting," Sam said and sighed at Dean's confusion. "What we've been doing all these months, hell, the past couple years hasn't been hunting. Yeah, we've had cases but we haven't been hunting, not really. We've been soldiers again for Angels and Demons and, yeah, there's a difference between being a hunter and being a soldier."
He paused and swallowed, gratefully sipping the glass of water Dean suddenly had.
"I'm tired of the Angels and the Demons, De, and I don't wanna be trapped in it anymore," Sam said, sounding exhausted. "I want to go back, De."
"Back to what, Sammy?" Dean said quietly.
"Back to basics," Sam said and Dean chuckled. "I just want to be a hunter again. Saving people, hunting things..."
"The family business," Dean finished and watched his brother. Sam tried to seem relaxed but Dean knew. Sam was worried about his response, worried that he would think Sam was running away. Dean knew that wasn't it at all. Hell, he had been considering just what Sam had proposed.
Could they do it though? Could they pull out when they were in so deep and had been for so long? The Angels and Demons had a fascination with them but they allowed that fascination to continue, always jumping in and helping and causing trouble and attracting attention. Besides, they had kicked destiny's ass before so why couldn't they pull out of this? They didn't have to be a part of whatever was happening. It was between the Angels or between Crowley and Abaddon. They did not have any further connection to what was happening, not really, not enough of one to keep them tied down.
So...could they pull it off? Could they get out? They weren't retiring, just...demoting themselves. They would still hunt the supernatural, still be hunters, but that's what they would be, not the Angels' soldiers or the Demons' callboys. They'd be what they were before he went to Hell, before Cold Oak.
He felt himself smile. He could handle that. He turned his attention back to Sam who was watching him warily.
"I think that's the best idea I've heard in years," Dean said, pleased when Sam smiled in relief, happiness, and surprise.
"Really?"
"Yeah, Sammy," Dean said casually, running his fingers through Sam's shaggy hair. The kid needed a trim if not a cut. "I think we've done more than enough, been screwed around enough. I think it's time to get our own lives back."
"You're serious? Even with Abaddon? Even with Metatron and all the fallen Angels?"
"Abaddon's issues are with Crowley. I'm sure there are Angels that can deal with Metatron," Dean said. "Sammy, it's time to be us again. The Angels and Demons can grow the hell up and learn to handle their own issues. In fact, it's really sad and embarrassing that they need humans to solve their problems and temper tantrums."
He cocked an eyebrow and just smiled when Sam's eyes brightened and swam.
"We'll hammer out the details when we get home and we're not doing anything even remotely close to hunting of any kind for a long time but, yeah, it's back to basics for us, little brother," Dean said.
"Sounds good," Sam said quietly and Dean knew he was seconds from falling to sleep, so he started to methodically run his fingers through Sam's hair. The soothing movement caused Sam's eyes to flutter and Dean just rolled his eyes when Sam fought a losing battle. "Thanks, De."
"Yeah, love you too, baby brother, now go to sleep. You know I'll be here."
Dean gazed at Sam affectionately as his brother slept, turned towards and curled the best he could be towards Dean. Hopefully they'd be able to leave the hospital soon and when back home, they'd figure it all out.
To Be Continued...