Summary: It's time to go home. After so long in the hospital, it's about time Sam was released to finish his healing at home with his big brother. However, just because he was being sent home didn't mean there weren't a lot of things that could happen and to watch for.
Warnings: Mild language. Lots of brotherly fluff.
Author's Note: Since it's just the boys going home, there's not much excitement in this chapter. However, Sam cannot be nearly dying in every chapter so just enjoy some brotherly company. I know it also seems I've let Sam off easy (and I have compared to canon) but he will experience problems while at home, just not in this chapter. I made up where the church is that was used for the third trial. I tried to find the actual location but it's never mentioned, not that I could find. So I used the idea that there is an abandoned church by Stull Cemetery and used that as the location for the church.
Enjoy and review :)
Chapter 2: Homeward Bound
"Morning, Sammy," Dean said, wandering back into the hospital room with his beverage that was pretending to be coffee.
"Hey," Sam said and eyed Dean's cup. "Please tell me you brought me some."
"Nope, no coffee for you. Doctor's orders," Dean said, taking an exaggerated drink as he took back the seat that been his home for days.
Eighteen days. They had been in the hospital for eighteen days. In those eighteen days, Sam's heart had stopped once, his lung collapsed once, his kidneys shut down twice, his liver began to shut down once, he had two allergic reactions, and his lungs filled with blood twice.
In those eighteen days, Dean had aged eighty years.
Despite all these things, Sam was being released, was finally being sent home. The brothers were happy to leave the hospital but Dean was worried because he knew Sam was far from healed. He had questioned Sam's doctor only to be told the doctor thought Sam would heal better at home. They—mostly Dean—had been given pages of directions to ensure Sam's healing when they went home. Literally, the doctor had handed Dean five pages of printed directions.
Sam still spent more hours asleep than he did awake. He couldn't walk without help and he barely had an appetite though that was slowly growing. He would be in danger of internal bleeding and coughing up blood for a while still, the same with his organs failing. He was on a long list of medications that Dean had already memorized the information of. It all made Sam extremely weary.
"Hey, Kevin."
He looked over at Dean who was now on his phone. When did Dean's phone go off?
"We'll be leaving in a few hours...probably won't, not tonight...you're fine there? Yeah, yeah, shut up...Cas? I figured...yeah...don't know...make sure his room's ready...dude, go to sleep, you're not making sense...yeah...I know...yeah...yeah, fine...okay, later." He ended the call and turned back to Sam.
"How's Kevin?" Sam asked.
"Still exhausted and sounds like he's getting sick, but fine otherwise. He just woke up, thought he'd check in," Dean said, finishing off his lukewarm coffee.
"Not surprised he's sick," Sam said. "He's been living on coffee, candy, and zero sleep."
Dean nodded. "He'll be okay."
"Cas?"
Dean sighed. "Nothing yet. Kevin's been trying his phone but it's always out of service or goes to voicemail. He's not answering prayers either."
Sam bit his lip. "Think something happened when the Angels fell?"
It had been eighteen days since the Angels were kicked out of Heaven and, so far, there was no indication their fall had caused anything. The 'meteor shower' had been forgotten. It was all strange but Castiel was the only one they cared about. They hadn't discussed their 'back to basics' plan but it was in their minds, waiting for the right time.
"I don't know," Dean finally said. "I hope not. Maybe he's with another Angel that's helping him."
"I don't think any Angel will be fond of him right now. Whether he fell or not, Cas was still a part of locking up Heaven," Sam said.
Dean ran a hand over his face tiredly. "Guess we'll find out eventually."
Sam nodded. "Anything else from Kevin?"
"Not really. Checking to see if we'd make it back today and he's getting your room ready."
"It'll be nice to get out of here," Sam said, dropping his head back on the pillows. The bed was raised slightly so he was sitting more than lying down.
"I still don't—"
"Dean," Sam interrupted immediately. "The doctor is releasing me and it's not even AMA. I'm okay, okay enough to get out of here."
Dean pulled the pages of instructions from his back pocket. "There's just so much."
"A lot of it is probably medications and bad reactions to look for."
"That doesn't fill me with confidence."
Sam just rolled his eyes and watched Dean read through the instructions.
"You must remain on bed rest for another two weeks," the doctor was saying.
It was finally time to go. The doctor was giving them last minute instructions and reminders before allowing Sam and Dean to walk out of the hospital. Sam was ecstatic while Dean was frowning, taking all the directions to mean that Sam should actually remain in the hospital. How could someone possibly be healthy enough to go home when there were so many instructions to remember to prevent so many things from happening?
"You can slowly begin introducing heavier and more solid foods into your diet but it must be done slowly. Eat three meals a day, do not miss a meal. You must drink lots of fluids, water and juices such as orange or apple are best. Once you set up a schedule for your medications, you must not miss any of your meds. They are all important. Your pain meds are the only ones you take when needed. I have supplied you with enough morphine to last you two weeks if you were take some twice a day every day. I do not recommend doing this. Use the morphine only when necessary. We do not want you becoming reliant on it.
"You will have to watch for fever. Moving to a new location may cause some distress in your weakened immune system. Only panic if the fever gets over 104. It can put strain on the heart which is the last thing we want right now. Your heart is too weak to handle it."
"What if that does happen?" Dean said, now terrified about the prospect. Sam had always been prone to fevers.
"You call 911 immediately and do whatever you can to get the fever down," the doctor said. "With the antibiotics I gave you it should prevent any fever from getting that high."
Dean nodded though Sam could see his big brother was still concerned.
"Watch for blood if you cough or vomit and watch for it in your urine. It may indicate your kidneys are having trouble. Only be alarmed if there is an excessive amount. If this happens, go to the hospital immediately." He waited until the brothers nodded in understanding. "Now, is there anyone that will be with you two that can help?"
"Why?" Dean frowned.
"You cannot constantly be with Sam or be watching him. You will need extra help."
"Excuse me, Doc, but I've been taking care of Sam since he was six months old. I am more than capable," Dean argued.
"I'm sure you are but this is not a broken bone or concussion or the flu," the doctor said and Dean's eyes narrowed. If only this guy knew just what he had helped Sam through. "For the first few days, Sam needs twenty-four hour care and close to that amount while he is on bed rest. You need at least one other person to help you."
"You know what I—"
"Dean," Sam said and Dean instantly backed down. The doctor was surprised at the instantaneous effect the young brother seemed to have on the older. "We've got a...friend waiting at our house. He can help. We've got a couple of others we can call as well if needed."
"Your...friend," the doctor said. "He will be able to follow the directions I've given you and be capable of helping you?"
"Yes," Sam said simply. No need for the doctor to know that Kevin was only a high school student, or had been before all the Prophet of the Lord stuff.
The doctor hummed, clearly unsure if he should accept this 'friend', but nodded anyways. "Very well. Make sure he knows exactly what to do and knows your med schedule."
"He will," Sam and Dean said together and looked at each other with grins.
"Try not to get worked up or overexcited or anything that might put extra strain on your lungs. They are still in danger of collapsing if pushed too hard. I've given you an inhaler that can help prevent collapse if you get it in time."
"Are you sure he should be leaving?" Dean interrupted. "I mean, if all these things could happen and happen on a dime, shouldn't he stay in the hospital?"
"There is nothing more we can do for him here. Most people tend to heal better once they return home where they can be comfortable."
"But he—"
"Dean, I'm okay to go home," Sam said. "Besides you'll be there and so will Kevin. We can call Charlie or Garth, keep trying to find Cas. It's not like I'm going to go live in a motel room on my own. I'm going home and I'm going with you."
Dean clenched his jaw, the idea of bringing Sam home going against everything he stood for as a big brother. So many things could go wrong once he brought Sam home and just that was telling him to keep Sam in the hospital. On the other hand, he really wanted to go home and bring Sam home, for it to be the two of them healing and being brothers again. He wanted to finally be able to take care of his little brother again.
"Dean," Sam said quietly and reached out to touch his brother's arm, making Dean look at him. "I want to go home."
Dean stared at Sam, searching his little brother's eyes and then groaned when they took on that typical puppy dog look. Seriously, how did he ever accomplish anything with Sam's ability to completely manipulate him with a look?
"Fine," Dean said and rolled his eyes when Sam's face lit up. "Anything else, Doc?"
"I believe I've covered the main things. The rest is in the pages I gave you. I have given you my number so call if you need anything at all," the doctor said and they nodded. "I am very pleased to see you going home, Sam. There were times I wasn't sure."
"There were times we were all unsure," Sam said.
The doctor nodded. "I have also provided your brother with the number for a highly revered psychiatrist. I encourage you to—"
"Wait, wait, what?" Dean said, flipping viciously to the last page of directions he held. "A psychiatrist?" he said after spotting the number and name. "What the hell does he need a psychiatrist for?"
"I do not know the complete story behind your injuries," the doctor said, speaking to Sam instead of Dean which only caused Dean to get angry. "However, I believe it may be something serious, an illness of some kind. As you have refused all tests except the ones we needed to get you healthy, I do not know what illness you may have. I have been a doctor for many, many years, though, and I know a cancer patient when I see one."
"Cancer?!" Dean exploded and Sam winced. "He does not have cancer!"
"Sir, I must ask you to calm down. I realize it is terrible and a hard idea to entertain, but I believe it is what is happening to Sam," the doctor said. "I can call for our resident oncologist or call in one from a more prestigious hospital as we are quite small. Talk to the psychiatrist to help you get through this."
"Listen to me," Dean said and stalked right up to the doctor. "My brother does not have cancer and he does not need a psychiatrist. So you can keep your opinions to yourself unless we ask for them, got it?"
"Sir—"
"No," Dean snapped. "Just stop. If that's all then we're leaving."
The doctor's face hardened. Sam watched as his brother and the doctor just stared at each other. He was starting to fear his brother was about to throw a punch when the doctor nodded and Dean took a couple steps back to return to Sam's bedside. "As I said, the rest of the directions I have given you. Be sure to follow them closely and go to a hospital if anything goes wrong."
Dean gave one short nod and turned to Sam. "Come on, Sam, let's go."
"I'll get him a wheelchair," the doctor said and left the room.
Sam looked at Dean, disapproving. "That was really unnecessary."
"I don't think it was," Dean said with a shrug.
Sam shook his head. "You can't scare the hospital staff."
"I didn't scare him and you said not to scare the nurses."
"When did I say that?"
Dean blinked. "Right, that was in my head back when you were, you know, dying."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "You heard my voice inside your head?"
"I always hear your voice inside my head. Why else do I find you extra annoying?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Hearing voices isn't good, Dean," he said with a mock sympathetic smile. "I don't think we're up to handling another one of us going crazy."
"Oh, shut up, Sam," Dean said and Sam laughed. "Seriously though. You're sure you're ready to go home?"
"Definitely sure," Sam said. "I'm tired of the hospital. I just want to be in my own bed again and sleep without a nurse coming in every half hour."
"You do get your own bed but instead of a nurse, you get a brother coming in every half hour," Dean said.
"Maybe I'll stick to the nurses then," Sam said and Dean scowled at him as he grinned. "I mean it though, man. I'm ready to be home." Ready to be home with you was left unsaid but they heard it anyways.
Dean gave him a small smile and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.
"Here we are," the doctor said, pushing a wheelchair in front of him as he entered the room. "Sam, you must let your brother or your friend help you get around. You cannot walk around on your own yet."
"I don't understand why. My legs are perfectly fine," Sam said even as he moved to the edge of the bed and waited for Dean to be ready to help him to the wheelchair.
"Dude, I'm surprised you can move at all due to the fact that your heart, lungs, kidneys, and liver all stopped at some point," Dean said, shoving the instructions back in his pocket and walking up to his brother.
"Plus you have been in bed for over two weeks after very nearly dying," the doctor said. "Your body was under extreme stress when you were brought in. It will be some time before you are back up to full strength even if you feel better now. How far away is your home?"
"A little under four hours," Dean said, handing Sam his jacket.
"Stop each hour so Sam can eat something without the movement of the car and to let him out of the car for a few minutes," the doctor said. "He's going to be very tired once you get home so give him the required medication and then let him sleep for as long as he can."
"You know I'm right here, right?" Sam said irritably.
"We see you, Sammy," Dean said in a voice that suggested his brother was five years old.
"Don't be a jerk," Sam said, glaring at him.
Dean chuckled. "We'll stop, Doc, if just because he's going to be whining the whole drive."
"Dean," Sam said in a childlike voice that made Dean laugh again.
"See?" he said with an amused look at the doctor. "He...de-ages or something when he's sick or drugged."
"Neither of which I am right now, Dean," Sam said.
"Also when he's hurt," Dean added and Sam rolled his eyes with a huff.
"You will be all right?" the doctor said and Dean nodded, his hand on Sam's shoulder and ready to help him off the bed.
"We'll be fine," Dean said. "Thank you, Doc. You saved my brother."
"Just doing my job," the doctor said. "I'm sure you know all about that." He smiled at the hand that had moved from Sam's shoulder to rest on the younger man's back instead as more of a comfort touch than a helping touch.
Sam smiled up at Dean even though his big brother avoided his gaze.
"Well, I will let you get on your way," the doctor said, breaking the chick flick moment as Dean would surely call it once they were alone. "Take care of each other, boys."
Dean snorted. "Boys," he repeated and the doctor smiled. "You're not that much older than us."
"Oh, really? How old would you say I am?"
Dean examined the middle-aged doctor. He looked about the same age as Bobby. "Early fifties. You look around the age a family friend was when he died."
"Close," the doctor said but made no indication of revealing his age. "Either way, you two are only around thirty so I've got at least twenty years on you. Therefore, you are boys."
Sam gave a laugh as Dean just stared at the doctor who smiled before leaving the room with another comment of taking care of each other.
"Well then," Dean said and turned to Sam. "Ready to get out of here?"
"God yes," Sam said and Dean grinned.
Dean made sure the brakes were on on the wheelchair before manoeuvring Sam and himself around. He slid his left arm under Sam's arm and around his back, letting Sam's arm wrap around his neck. His right hand fisted in Sam's shirt and pulled on it at the same time to get Sam to his feet. With the wheelchair so close, all Dean had to do was spin around and lower Sam to the chair. Once Sam was settled, Dean pulled back slightly so he could see Sam's face and he raised an eyebrow.
"And you asked why I have to help you around."
Sam was breathing hard and his face had paled. His eyes were closed as he tried to relax and get his breath back. Dean waited patiently, a hand on the side of Sam's head and his fingers playing with the hair strands. He was being a girl, he knew, but, hey, you try watching your baby brother nearly die in your arms and see how tough you are. So he waited and gave his little brother the comfort he needed. He waited until Sam touched Dean's wrist and opened his eyes.
"Good?" Dean said and Sam nodded, squeezing Dean's wrist before dropping his hand back to his lap. "All right then, here we go." He moved behind the wheelchair and pushed Sam through the hospital. Through the hospital, down the elevator, and out to the parking lot Dean kept up an almost continuous stream of speech, aiming for making Sam laugh. He succeeded nine out of ten times and was pleased with himself. It was good to know he was still capable of making Sam laugh and also that Sam wasn't too traumatized from their life to still laugh especially recently.
They approached their beloved Impala and, even from behind, Dean saw Sam visibly relax. However, Dean hesitated at the passenger's side. He had yet to replace the passenger's side of the car. He had done his best to clean out the blood but it still stained parts of the car. A sheet covered the seat to hide the large blood stains that had refused to come out. He hoped Sam wouldn't notice the stains on the dash and glove box. However, he also hadn't put quite as much effort as he usually would into cleaning the Impala. It had taken him away from Sam's bedside so he refused to be gone for too long, making the cleaning job only halfway decent.
"Dean?"
He looked down at Sam who was looking back at him over his shoulder.
"You okay, man?"
Dean pushed back the memories of his baby brother drowning in blood in the front seat of the Impala. "I'm fine. Come on, time to go home."
He put the brakes on and then walked around to open the door. He made sure the sheet was secure and wouldn't just fall to the floor once Sam was shifted onto it. He glanced at the stained dash and his face tightened but knew there was nothing he could do about it yet. Apparently his examination of the car had taken too long as he soon felt a hand on his back and Sam spoke.
"Seriously, Dean, what's wrong?"
Dean pulled out of the car and looked at Sam, leaning on the open door. He stared at his little brother who looked healthier but still so far from okay. He could still see the blood that drenched his brother, could still remember how he thought Sam couldn't possibly survive losing that much blood. It had surely been all the blood in his body. He closed his eyes against the memories, clenched his right hand in a fist at the remembered feeling of how tight Sam had held onto him.
"Dean."
His eyes opened and met Sam's concerned hazel. He sighed and looked behind Sam at the hospital.
"I, uh, I haven't been able to get all the...blood out of the car," he said. "I've got a sheet on the seat but there's still blood on the floor and the dash. When we get back home and get you settled I'll fix it all but...for now."
"That all?" Sam said, sounding both relieved and amused which made Dean look back at him sharply. "Dean, I'm not going to have a panic attack or anything just because there's a little bit of blood left in the car."
No, apparently that's me, Dean mused bitterly.
"Are you okay to get in the car?" Sam said and Dean made himself pull a frown and a scowl.
"Dude, it's my baby. Of course I can get in my own damn car," he scoffed but knew he wasn't fooling his brother when Sam just raised an eyebrow. "Get in said damn car," he grumbled.
Dean rubbed his eyes and covered a yawn. It was only six in the evening but it had been at least two weeks since he had fully slept. Longer than two weeks if he wanted to be honest. He hadn't slept properly since well before Sam started the trials, always worried that if he went to sleep he would wake up to find Sam had died while he slept. The drive from Stull to Lebanon was also taking longer than it should. They had already passed the five hour mark when, taking the route they were, it should've only taken about three and a half hours. They'd had to stop a couple more times than just once every hour. Sam's leg had started viciously cramping and they'd had to stop so Dean could help massage it. His nose had started bleeding which had freaked out Dean and almost made him turn around until Sam had stopped him, saying it was probably from some of the medication he was on. Once when Sam had drifted off to sleep his breathing had hitched a couple of times which made Dean pull over and shove him awake, fearing his lung was collapsing.
"Dean, I swear to God. Wake me up once more because you think I'm dying and I will punch you in the face," Sam said irritably when Dean shook him awake for the third time, this time because he hadn't been able to see Sam's chest moving in the dark.
"What do you want me to do, Sam? Just wait until we get home to check on you and then find out you had died on the way?"
"No, I'm just saying find another way to make sure I'm alive without waking me up when I'm finally sleeping."
Dean felt guilt sweep over him. He wasn't the only one that hadn't had proper rest for a long time. Sam's sleeping habits had been far worse than his own, the effects of the trials taking their toll. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his little brother sleep and sleep without medication. Now here he was, sleeping again and apparently doing so peacefully. Yet Dean was being a paranoid ass and kept waking him up for stupid reasons every twenty minutes.
"Sam, I—"
"Just don't wake me up until we're home and you're forgiven, all right?"
Dean glanced over at Sam who had a small smile on his face even as he remained curled up against the passenger's door, his eyes closed, Dean's jacket acting as his pillow.
"All right, Sammy," Dean said. He reached into the back seat and grabbed the blanket that was tossed back there. Singlehandedly, he opened the blanket and draped it over his little brother, tucking it over his shoulder. Sam opened his eyes briefly to give him a fond look before returning to his position to sleep, pulling the blanket tight around his body. "Sleep, little brother. We'll be home soon."
Sam let out a quiet breath as he fell back into a restful sleep and gave no indication that he was aware of his big brother running his fingers through his long hair.
Six hours. A three and a half hour drive had taken six hours. But they were home. Dean directed the Impala to pull into the garage of the Men of Letters' bunker. He killed the engine of his baby and leaned back in his seat with a deep exhale. He sat in the dark with his sleeping brother for a long while, just taking in the fact that he was finally home and was home with a healing baby brother.
He rolled his head on the seat to look over at Sam. He was still sleeping heavily, in the exact same position, and Dean loathed waking him. He had to though. Sam couldn't sleep in the car and he needed his medication for the night. They would start a daily routine tomorrow.
With a sigh he reached over and put a hand on his brother's shoulder, shaking it lightly.
"Sam," he said quietly. "Sammy, we're home, wake up."
Sam groaned and just curled up further making Dean roll his eyes. It was like Sam was five again and refusing to wake up for school.
"Sammy, come on. Time to go inside."
"Bite me," Sam mumbled and Dean chuckled.
"You are such a pain in the ass, Sam." With a shake of his head, Dean took hold of the blanket covering his brother and yanked it off. Sam jumped awake at the abruptness and whipped his head around to look blearily at Dean.
"Damn it, Dean, what did I tell you?" he growled.
"We're home, Sammy, so I did absolutely nothing wrong," Dean said innocently and Sam snorted, sitting up straight and letting Dean's jacket fall into his lap.
"You always do something wrong."
Dean chucked the blanket at Sam's head. "Bitch."
In the process of pulling the blanket off his head, Sam paused, letting the blanket slip off as he stared at his brother. It had been so long since those words had been used, since those affectionate insults had been a comfort. So many things that once showed their love for each other lost over the years.
Perhaps they would be able to get some of those things back.
"Jerk," he returned and Dean grinned.
"Come on, kiddo, time for bed," Dean said, patting Sam's arm and then getting out of the car.
Sam looked down at the jacket in his lap as he waited for Dean to help him out of the car. He'd be annoyed about having to get his brother's help later. For now he was far too tired to care much. He fingered Dean's green jacket. He missed the leather jacket that Dean used to wear before Stull Cemetery, before he had gone to Lisa's. Dean had truly buried everything after being unable to find a way to bring Sam back from Lucifer's Cage. He missed that jacket. He missed the smell of leather and oil and gunpowder, the smells that once allowed him to know the minute it was close enough that Dean was there which meant he was safe. He missed the way Dean used to lay that jacket over him as though it were a sufficient blanket for his six-four frame. It had been a sufficient blanket because it had allowed him to have Dean close. This jacket was good and suited the needs just fine but it wasn't the leather jacket. He missed that jacket.
"Sammy, would you stop molesting my jacket and pay attention?"
Sam looked up from the green jacket at Dean and gave him a look of exasperation. "Trust me, I have no desire to molest anything of yours. Get over yourself."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Then give me my jacket."
Sam unconsciously tightened his hold on the material which got him a smug look from Dean. "Shut up," he muttered.
Dean chuckled. "Come on, Sammy."
Sam moved so his feet were set on the ground and then threw his arm around Dean's neck to stand up. It was a slow shuffle up to the door with both brothers exhausted. It was an even slower trek down the staircase as they took it one step at a time and paused for a few seconds on each step.
"Dean, I—" Sam cut off suddenly as his legs went limp and the unexpected weight nearly brought the both of them down the stairs.
"Sam!" Dean said, catching his little brother and struggling to stay standing. "Sam, come on, help me out here." He glanced at his brother's face as it rested against his shoulder and cursed when he saw that Sam was completely out. "Couldn't wait until we got off the stairs?"
"Dean?"
Dean's head shot up at the voice and spotted Kevin coming towards them from the direction of his bedroom.
"Kevin!" Dean said. "C'mere and help me with the Sasquatch here."
"Is he alright?" Kevin asked, running up to the brothers. He pulled one of Sam's arms around his neck and let his own arm join Dean's around Sam's waist.
"Fell asleep, I think," Dean said and they began to slowly descend the staircase. "Could hardly wake him up to get him out of the car."
"Should he be falling asleep in the middle of walking?" Kevin said, his heart pounding when his foot slipped a bit on the next step.
"Probably not but when was the last time he really slept? Plus I kept waking him up in the car," Dean said and let out a breath when they reached the bottom of the stairs. He couldn't help but grin at Kevin who was wheezing under Sam's weight. "Heavy, isn't he?"
"How do you...do this...alone?" Kevin gasped and Dean chuckled.
"I'm bigger than you for one and I've been taking care of this kid his whole life. I picked up a few things over the years," Dean said, adjusting Sam's arm over his shoulders. "All right, come on. Let's get the giant to his room."
Kevin groaned but braced himself and they made their way through the bunker to Sam's bedroom. He was completely out of breath by the time they reached Sam's room and was beyond relieved when he was able to drop Sam on the bed. He put his hands on his waist, breathing as though he had run three marathons.
Dean looked up from Sam and raised an eyebrow at the Prophet. "Dude, you gonna pass out on me?"
Kevin just waved a hand in Dean's direction, making the man snort. Kevin huffed in his mind. He wasn't athletic, never had been. He had been in advanced placement and then a Prophet of the Lord. None of that required physical strength. So he was winded helping Sam. Sam was huge! Winded was a perfectly natural reaction.
"Kevin, go lay down before you fall on your face," Dean said, amused as he watched Kevin try to recover. He probably shouldn't ask Kevin to help Sam get around. He'd end up coming into a room and find the both of them on the floor.
"I'm...okay, I'm okay," Kevin said, drawing in a deep breath.
"Seriously, Kev, go to bed," Dean said. "Not only do you still look like hell but I don't need help with Sam now. I just have to give him meds and then put him to bed."
"You sure?"
"Are you actually asking?"
"No. Good night!" Kevin said and escaped as Dean laughed.
"It's good to be home, Sammy," he said, turning back to his still sleeping brother. "Stay here. I have to get the bags from the car."
Patting Sam's arm, Dean went back to the garage and snatched the large first aid kit and their duffels from the back seat. Passing his room, he tossed his bag on his bed and then moved next door. Dropping Sam's bag on the floor by the door, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and opened the first aid kit.
It was stuffed with prescription bottles and other first aid items. There were several needles and he saw the little glass bottle of morphine sitting near them. There were three of the little inhalers and he made a note to give the other two to Sam and Kevin. There were several icepacks and a couple heating pads as well.
"We've got a portable pharmacy here, kiddo," Dean said and pulled out the instructions from the doctor. He flipped to the third page where the medication directions started. He placed each bottle on the bedside table as he read up on them, planning to put sticky notes by each bottle to say what the pills were for, their time frame, and what to take them with.
Once the bottles were all lined up on the table he stared at them. There were so many and he almost didn't know where to start. Almost.
"Sam," he said and shook Sam's shoulder. "Wake up, time for meds."
Sam said something unintelligible and turned his head away from Dean.
"Nope, gotta wake up, Sam," Dean said, shaking him again.
"Dean," Sam whined as he turned back to Dean. His eyes opened and glared tiredly at his brother.
"Yeah, I know, now get up," Dean said and began gathering the pills needed at that time. He avoided the ones that had to be taken with food.
Sam sighed and attempted to push himself up to recline against the headboard. He had just managed to succeed when Dean held out a bottle of water and several pills. He groaned at all the pills.
"It's just right now. They'll get more evenly spaced out starting tomorrow," Dean said, knowing he was holding a lot of pills.
"Are you trying to make me overdose?" Sam said even as he took the small pile of pills.
"I would never," Dean said in mock outrage.
Sam rolled his eyes, knocking back the pills and taking a large drink of the water. Dean's eyebrows went up.
"Maybe you should've done that a little slower," Dean said.
Sam shrugged. "Too late."
Dean shook his head with a sigh, taking the water bottle as Sam made moves to lie back down.
"Let's get you comfortable then," Dean said and reached down to take off Sam's shoes.
"Don't undress me. M'not four," Sam said, his eyes flickering as he tried to undress himself.
"Calm down, Sam. I'm undressing you for bed, not giving you a bath," Dean said, dropping Sam's shoes to the floor. "Socks on or off?"
"On," Sam muttered, struggling with his outer button-up shirt.
Dean nodded and moved up. He made quick work of pulling off Sam's jeans to limit his little brother's embarrassment.
"Oh, for the love of—Sam," he said, seeing his nearly asleep brother tangled in his shirt. With an amused expression, Dean helped free Sam and tossed the shirt aside. "All right, into bed."
It was work but he was soon rolling his now sleeping brother under the blankets and unconsciously tucking him in. He made sure Sam was sleeping comfortably before brushing back the long hair and then moving to straighten up. As he gathered Sam's clothes and moved his duffel, he found himself looking around the room. It was bare. There was no indication anyone occupied the room and he frowned.
Sam had been keeping the bunker strictly 'business', unable to make it home when he had no idea how to make a home. Sam's 'home' had been crappy motel rooms and the backseat of a car. He hadn't been able to gather personal possessions growing up and only had about two pairs of jeans, a few shirts, and his fed suit. It was no surprise Sam hadn't done anything with his room the way Dean had in his own. He had nothing to do anything with even if he wanted to and he didn't know what to do.
Dean glanced back at his little brother.
"We're making this your home too, Sammy," he said quietly. "I'm going to finally give you a home."
He grabbed his fallen jacket and draped it over his little brother, watching with a smile as Sam immediately grasped it.
With a last look around the room, he went to pull his pillow and blankets from his own bed and created a makeshift one on the floor beside Sam.
Yeah, Sam was home and healing.
Didn't mean he was leaving Dean's sight.
To Be Continued...