A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic. Hooray! I have been watching Supernatural for a little over two months, and it has legitimately ruined my life very quickly to the point that I'm writing fanfiction about it already. I am, in fact, very proud of this however. Just a couple things you should know:
One: When Cas "shifted" Lucifer, I was not exactly sure to what extent he healed Sam. When Sam first got his soul back, he didn't remember when he was soulless or when he was in Hell, and I thought that would be a lot for Cas to "shift;" Lucifer, Hell, and his soullessness. So, I just arrogantly figured all Cas could do was take Lucifer away, and leave Hell and all behind.
Two: Technically, Sam was in Hell for a year and half, which is like 180 years, but that is assuming he was in Hell for 18 months exactly. The difference between 18 and 20 months is not as different as 180 and 200 years, and I have Sam in Hell for 200 years.
Three: I do not hate Cas. I just thought I should make that very clear, but there is literally no one more important to Dean than Sam is, so I just have a hard time imagining that Dean could ever really forgive Cas, no matter how much he wants to.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine; otherwise, you'd have forty minutes of chick-flick moments and hugging. Not that that is a bad thing, there just would not be any plot.
Remnants of the Nightmare
I wasn't really sure to what extent Cas had healed Sam, but he seemed all right for the time being and I wasn't going to waste any time busting him out of the hospital. I left Meg in charge of our angel friend (a job which she took with a little too much enthusiasm, if you ask me) and Sammy and I busted the hell out of there, neither of us wanting to talk much about what had happened.
Driving back to the motel, I kept looking over at Sam; just to make sure was still there and breathing. To be honest, he looked better than I'd seen him in a long time. Relieved, I guess, that Lucifer was leaving him alone. I hadn't exactly told him what Cas had done, but Sam isn't stupid. He knew, and he looked a little guilty, but no enough for me to start harassing him about it. Not yet, at least.
The way I saw it, it was the least Cas could have done. He broke Sam in the first place, and even though he took Lucifer away, I think he left all of Hell. I must have been a lot angrier with Cas than I had realized because I still couldn't forgive him, even now. Cas crossed some sort of line when he broke down the wall and nothing he could do would make up for it. And to do it to Sam! They were friends too.
I took a deep breath and looked over at Sam again. He was staring absently out the window.
I pulled up to the motel. Sam didn't seem to realize though. At least, he didn't move. "Hey, Sammy," I said a little anxiously. He grunted in response. "We're here, come on."
He nodded and stepped out of the car. He swayed on the spot. I basically jumped over the hood to catch him. "Whoa," I said softly. "Take it easy, Sammy. You doing okay?"
"Yeah," he lied. I half-carried him to our room
Sam crashed in a matter of seconds. It was the first time he'd slept in a week or so, I was grateful that everything was quiet in that head of his, but I was still sick with worry. It was so bad, now I couldn't sleep.
I guess I was right to be. We got in around 12:30 and Sam slept okay until about three. I kept a watchful eye on him all night, waiting for Lucifer to seize hold of my brother again. Just in case.
It was nice just to watch him sleep peacefully. It was good to know he was safe, it was good to see him healing. It took a weight off my shoulders that Sam didn't want me carrying anyway. Now, I could just be my normal, over-protective big brother again. I would make sure nothing ever hurt him now. Nothing.
Around three, though, the nightmares started. They were worse than any nightmares Sammy had ever had before, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than wake him and tell him he was safe, that I'd protect him, but I wasn't really sure what to do. I just wanted him to sleep. It was just Hell, and knowing Sammy, he'd tell me if he wanted to.
Just Hell. God, our lives are screwed. When did almost two-hundred years of Hell become a good thing? But Hell and torture, I knew how to deal with. Corrupt angels, monsters that can't be killed, hallucinations of the Devil himself, who may or may not really be there, not so much, but Hell…I never thought I'd say this, but I'd seen worse things than Hell.
So, I decided that Sam could sleep.
I could only let him sleep for about another half-hour though, because by that point, Sammy had started to scream the way he must have when he was stuck in Hell, and the thought made me sick.
The sounds that he made were animalistic. I wanted him to stop. God, I'd do anything to make it stop. Anything, and I mean anything to make him feel better. To stop whatever was happening in his dream from happening. He shouldn't have to feel like that. Not ever.
I jumped up off my bed with a jolt of panic and grabbed Sam's hands and then his face forcefully. "Hey, hey," I said sternly enough to get his attention, but gently enough to make sure he knew it was me through all that Hell. "Sammy! Hey, Sammy, listen," I said. "Can you hear me? Come on, Sammy. Wake up," I pleaded. "Hey, come on man, it's Dean. It's me, it's all right."
Sam's eyes snapped open, looking, as usual, like a lost puppy. I tightened my grip around his face. He was shaking like crazy. "Dean," he gasped. He closed his eyes, but I guess he couldn't take it now that he was awake, because he reopened them just as quickly as before.
"Hey," I said, running my hands through his hair. "It's all right, Sammy. I'm here." He nodded and closed his eyes again. "Just go to sleep Sammy. It'll be okay."
I stood up slowly and backed away. I think he might have fallen asleep again, but if he did, it wasn't for very long. He woke up sobbing this time. And calling my name. I sat on the edge of his bed this time, and I took his hand. He clung to it like a lifeline.
When he calmed down, he looked up at me. "I guess Cas didn't take Hell away," he laughed weakly. I shook my head. "I'm glad he didn't," said Sam tiredly. "I need to remember it."
"God," I groaned. "Don't say that. Why would you say something like that? What do you wanna remember Hell for?"
"I don't want to, Dean," he said, and his speech was slurred. "I just have to. I have to." Something about the way he said it convinced me if we could get through these next few months, he'd be happier this way. I didn't much like it, but I didn't protest. Not tonight.
"Okay, Sammy," I said. "I believe you."
"Good," he said, closing his eyes nestling up against me.
"Goodnight, Sam," I said. I stood up, but Sam, who was hardly awake, whimpered. "Sam?" I asked.
"Don't leave," he pleaded.
"I'll never leave you," I promised. "You know that. Never."
"Don't," he repeated.
"God, Sammy," I groaned. It had been a long time since I'd had to sit with him all night just to make sure he'd sleep. It was worth it though, and I was so tired I didn't even think twice about laying my head next to his. He smiled at me, not at all looking like the grown man he was and he made himself comfortable. "I'll protect you, Sammy," I whispered the promise I'd made to myself a long time ago. "From everything."