Voices whispered around him, the words buried beneath a fog created by injury and made worse by medication.

The tones were distorted – sometimes clear and close, sometimes far and faded – but always with him; hovering in the distance; pressing ever closer to his consciousness until Sam could no longer ignore them.

Dean sighed, watching as Bobby left the room on a much-needed coffee run, and sank back into the chair; closing his eyes as he took a brief break from talking.

Dean had always done that – talked incessantly about anything and nothing – when Sam was sick or injured, scared or upset, and Dean wondered if it made a difference now; if Sam could hear him; if Sam would follow his voice.

Dean hoped so.

Because they had been in the ICU for close to 12 hours now; and while Dean was thankful Sam's vitals had remained stable and his brother seemed to be resting peacefully, he was also beyond ready to see some indication that Sam would wake up.

Because Sam had to wake up.

"You hear me?" Dean asked, as if he had made the statement aloud. "You have to wake up, Sammy."

A command, a wish, a prayer...for whatever that was worth these days.

Dean clenched his jaw, unexpectedly thinking of Castiel and how easily this situation could be fixed if the angel was still around; how Cas could instantly heal with just a touch.

But that was an option no longer at their disposal.

Because Cas was gone.

And as much as it sucked, Dean needed to let him go.

Dean sighed, opening his eyes as one of the monitors began to beep a different rhythm; his gaze scanning the screens out of habit and then double-checking them when they all showed elevated numbers.

Dean frowned and leaned forward, squeezing his brother's wrist as it still remained in his grasp. "Sammy..."

Sam's heart rate and respiration marginally increased at the sound of Dean's voice, and Dean was unsure what that meant. He had been talking to Sam for hours, and Sam's vitals had held steady. But now they were spiking?

"What's going on in there, Sam?" Dean asked and reached for the call button; his thumb pushing down on the switch two seconds before he noticed it – a soft flutter of motion beneath the sheet as Sam moved restlessly; consciousness beginning to communicate itself.

Dean blinked, wondering if he had reached the level of exhaustion where he started seeing things, or if what he had just witnessed had really happened.

Had Sam just moved?

And if he had, did that mean he was waking up?

Or was it some kind of random, involuntary reaction?

Dean held his breath, releasing it on one word. "Sammy..."

Sam shifted again, his wrist twitching in Dean's grasp as he moved his head weakly in the direction of Dean's voice.

"Whoa, Sam," Dean warned, leaning forward from where he sat to place his palm on Sam's warm forehead; gently restraining further movement as the intracranial pressure monitor began to blare. "Easy, huh? Waking up is not a race."

...which was strange to say, since Sam waking up was all Dean had wanted since he had seen his brother seize and lose consciousness in the ambulance.

But the fear that Sam waking up too quickly could somehow cause further damage instantly changed Dean's mind.

"You rang?" Norma asked teasingly as she entered the room and then sobered immediately at the scene in front of her – Sam weakly writhing on the bed as the monitors sounded their warning.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Norma's voice; his body twisted awkwardly in the chair; his casted leg stretched out in front of him as he leaned over his brother, still holding Sam's wrist but now also holding Sam's head.

Norma felt her stomach clench as she crossed to the bed; her mind thinking "seizure" before she realized Sam's movements, though uncoordinated, were purposeful. He was not rigid; was not jerking or twitching. He was simply waking up.

Norma blew out a breath she was unaware of holding, feeling lightheaded with relief. "It's okay," she assured as Dean continued to stare at her.

Dean shook his head. "The monitors..."

"I know. But it's okay," Norma repeated calmly, scanning the screens. "This is normal. He'll even out once he's awake and oriented. Just give him a minute."

Dean nodded, his heart slamming in his chest; simultaneously willing Sam to hurry but to also take his time.

Seconds passed – feeling like hours – before pale eyelids fluttered open.

Dean grinned at the sight. "Hey ya, Sammy..."

Sam blinked drowsily, a thick glaze coating his hazel eyes; his left pupil still dilated from the injury sustained on that side, masking the rim of color on the iris and blurring the images around him.

Sam shook his head weakly as if doing so would clear his vision and winced as pain flared; wrinkling his nose and continuing to blink owlishly as he shifted minutely on the bed, overwhelmed by sensations.

Dean waited patiently, his callused palm still resting on Sam's forehead as his thumb soothingly rubbed back and forth; mindful of the various ICP monitor leads and of the swollen bruise still marring his brother's fever-warm skin.

Sam swallowed thickly; his gaze roaming the room though his attention was turned inward as he slowly became more aware.

Hospital, he thought as he felt the invading pressure of a Foley catheter, the pinch of an IV; a clip on his finger that did not hurt but was uncomfortable; sticky, itchy electrodes pressed to his chest with wires leading to monitors beside the bed.

The tubing of a nasal cannula wrapped around his ears and stretched across his cheeks; the steady flow of oxygen simultaneously cold and warm as it flowed up his nose.

And then there was the unrelenting pain in his head; the deafening rush of blood in his ears as his heartbeat throbbed across his forehead and in his temples.

Sam's eyes dipped closed, exhausted and desperate to escape the pain and confusion of being awake.

"Sam..." Dean called again, knowing Sam was drifting and overwhelmed with the need to ground his brother; to call Sam back before he slipped away again. "Sammy. Look at me."

It took a few seconds, but Sam did as he was told; his eyes opening to slits and wandering the room until they focused on Dean.

Dean smiled. "That's better," he praised, thumbing a strand of hair from Sam's eyes when his brother blinked at the irritation.

Sam stared at the hazy figure above him, recognizing the voice; feeling a familiar touch on his forehead as his bangs were swept aside.

"Sam..."

Sam blinked again, seeming startled as an unfamiliar voice spoke.

Dean frowned at Sam's reaction and cut his eyes at Norma.

Norma smiled her apology but continued, needing to assess her patient's level of consciousness. "Sam, do you know where you are?"

Sam closed his eyes as he considered the question. Because where he was never mattered to him as much as who was with him. And he knew exactly who was with him; who had probably been with him this entire time...however long that was.

"D'n..."

It was slurred and barely audible, rasped out by a hoarse voice; but it was still one of the best things Dean had heard in a long time.

Norma shook her head, then arched an eyebrow as Dean smiled. "You know he answered incorrectly..." she whispered.

Dean's smile widened. "Sam wasn't answering your question," he informed quietly, knowing his brother's exact train of thought. "He was answering his own."

Norma frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

Dean shook his head, knowing she would not understand that in their world, "who" was often more important than "where."

"Where" usually changed on a daily basis for them; but "who" was their one constant.

And as long as one brother had the other, "where" – and any other detail – would be dealt with later...together.

"D'n..." Sam called again, opening his eyes as his legs moved restlessly beneath the sheet.

"Easy, Sammy. It's okay," Dean reassured, gently squeezing his brother's wrist. "I'm right here."

Sam immediately stilled, a ghost of a smile flickering on his lips as his eyes once again dipped closed; his breaths evening out in sleep.

Norma pressed her hand to her chest as she felt her heart twinge and tears sting her eyes.

"You boys..." she commented fondly and then shook her head as words failed her in describing the moment she had just witnessed.

Because it seemed no matter how old they got, little brothers just wanted their big brothers nearby, especially when they were unwell; and big brothers...

Norma glanced at Dean as he continued to watch Sam.

Big brothers were just awesome.

"How's his numbers?" Dean asked, aware that Norma was staring at him but more interested in the changed cadence of the monitors.

Norma glanced at the screens. "They're leveling out just fine."

Dean nodded his approval. "Atta boy, Sammy," he murmured, affectionately carding his fingers through Sam's hair before leaning back; wincing at the pull of tight muscles as he repositioned himself in the chair.

"How's the leg?" Norma checked, noticing Dean's grimace of pain.

"Still broke," Dean replied dryly and once again shifted in his seat.

Norma quirked a smile, thinking how she should probably be annoyed, not amused, by such a smartass answer. "Any chance of you taking those pain meds, now that Sam has woke up?"

Dean chuckled. "Boy, you push drugs like Girl Scouts push those damn cookies," he remarked and shook his head.

Norma laughed. "Just doing my job, hun."

"I know," Dean agreed and then focused on Sam. "But so am I," he reminded, glancing back at Norma to make his point.

Norma nodded, receiving the message – that as long as Dean was on watch, he was off meds – and wondered if Sam knew how lucky he was to have Dean; if the brothers knew how lucky they were to have each other.

Norma sighed. "I'll be right back," she promised, ducking into the hall to grab Sam's chart and then reentering the room seconds later; recording vitals and other notes as the rhythm of the monitors punctuated the silence; startling when Dean spoke.

"It's a good sign, right?"

Norma paused in her writing. "What? That Sam woke up?"

"Yeah. I mean..." Dean shrugged. "It wasn't very long, but – "

"But it was still a good sign," Norma reassured. "A very good sign."

"What was?" Bobby asked, entering the room with a cup of coffee in each hand.

"Sam woke up all by himself," Dean reported, his tone equal parts excited and proud.

Bobby smiled and nodded approvingly as he handed one of the Styrofoam cups to Dean and then directed his attention to Norma on the opposite side of the bed.

"He answer all your questions correctly?" Bobby checked, knowing how such things worked with head injuries; how nurses wanted their patients "oriented x3".

"Well..." Norma sighed, not quite sure how to respond; watching as Dean practically drained his cup in one gulp. "He didn't answer my question, but I think he knew where he was."

"Of course he did," Dean confirmed. "And he knew who I was," he added, as though that detail was all that mattered.

And Norma supposed Dean was right; everything else would undoubtedly come later.

Bobby stood beside Dean's chair, taking a sip of coffee before he spoke. "Did he seem okay?"

Dean shrugged, glancing at Sam. "Kinda like he is after a seizure."

Bobby nodded, considering what that description implied – a disoriented, groggy, sleepy Sam.

"That's completely normal with head injury patients," Norma reassured. "Everything up until now has been completely normal. But I'm still a little stunned with how far ahead of schedule Sam has woken up."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Ahead of schedule?"

Norma nodded. "To have been admitted with a GCS of three less than 24 hours ago and now..."

Her voice trailed off as she shook her head at the wonder of Sam's progress.

"What?"

Norma smiled at Bobby and then glanced at Dean as the older brother's expression demanded the same. "Sam is doing remarkably well. His vitals have been holding relatively steady, he's had no signs of seizures...then waking up on his own...speaking, responding to commands...just amazing, especially given how little time has passed."

Bobby snorted. "I think our idea of time differs."

Norma's smile widened. "Trust me," she urged. "Sam's making excellent progress."

Dean nodded, looking relieved as he affectionately squeezed Sam's wrist. "I taught him everything he knows."

Norma laughed lightly. "I'm sure you did," she replied, her tone sincere; having seen enough of these brothers to recognize the truth in that statement.

Dean smiled warmly in her direction, holding her gaze before focusing back on Sam and settling in to continue his vigil.

ICP = Intracranial Pressure

GCS = Glasgow Coma Scale

TBC = To be continued... :)