6. Christmas Day

"'He stroked her hair'. Wow. They're getting stupidly cheesy."

The tunes of the Christmas carols playing on the hospital corridors blend in with Dean's dramatic narration and Sam can't help but snigger. He tilts his face to his big brother, listening to the mock disgust in Dean's voice as he continues with his teasing. "I mean, do you always read chick stuff like this, Sam?"

Dean's been reading Sam's novel out loud to him for the past hour, and he spent half that time complaining how he particularly hates this, although Sam has to disagree with that because Dean seems to enjoy doing all the voices and weird accents, even though the characters in the book are American.

Sam does, however, roll his eyes at Dean's latest comment. "It's got a strong woman as the central character, Dean, and that doesn't mean I can't like it just because I'm a dude. Read on."

"Oh, you're gonna like this."

"I know. Go on."

Dean snorts, the crinkle of paper audible as he turns the page. "'It was soft and heavy. He got a'… seriously?"

"What?"

Dean puts Sam's novel down. "What are you even reading these days, Sam?" A carefully held-back grin breaks across his features, and Sam knows that Dean is going to get merciless. He doesn't know the reason for it, though.

Sam blinks. "What?" Dean's expression is similar to when he's about to begin a prank war and Sam can't say he likes it. "What is it, Dean," he sighs. He's not really in the mood right now and Dean knows that, but sometimes, his big brother can be really annoying.

Dean leans forward, holding out the page for Sam to see. "'He got a'… oh God…" he starts to laugh, shaking and sniggering, and Sam tries to see but Dean reads it out before he can. "'He got a hard-on like a—like a f-fire hose… Sam! Fuck!"

And that does it. Dean's collapsing back, face twisted up as he laughs and laughs, the sound filling the room. He rocks in his chair, holding the book, and his eyes start to leak with mirth as Sam just watches him exasperatedly. It's really nice to see Dean this way and it seems so long since they were happy, but—

Dean is fucking pointing at him now, and laughing as though Sam somehow came up with that ridiculous euphemism for a boner.

No.

Sam frowns, the grumpiness infiltrating him in a jiffy. "You done?" Fucking annoying big brothers.

"N-No," Dean bursts into another round of laughter, wheezing as he tries to come up for air. "Oh, oh f-fuck… fire hose…"

And the annoyance vanishes, just like that. Sam had almost lost Dean. They had almost lost each other. And if that had happened…

Sam smiles, still not as entertained as his brother, but suddenly marvelling the miracle of surviving through yesterday and being able to be angry at Dean for teasing him again. Sam realises he needs to be more grateful. Fight with Dean less. Although, from his side, he'll never stop pulling his big brother's leg either.

Meanwhile, Dean shuts the book as he puts it aside, wiping his eyes. "You know, when people usually read to their little brothers in hospital rooms, it's soul-searching stuff. Not—"

"Fire hoses?" Sam asks him, chuckling a little himself.

"Is that how you come too, Sammy? Like a fire hose?"

"Ew, Dean, TMI."

"So you admit to it."

"Sure I do. If you admit to the fact that Cas is your boyfriend."

"Fuck off, he isn't."

"And I don't come like a fire hose." Sam wrinkles his nose. "It's so weird to even say that."

"Liar, liar," Dean teases him, shaking his head. "You probably make it fire hose-y enough when you cry after sex, though."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, no, please don't. I mean, you're cute, Sammy, but I'm not into you." Dean lifts the breakfast tray and gets up to put it on Sam's table. "Come on," he says, wheeling it, and reaching for the buttons to adjust Sam's bed. "I read that stuff out to you like you wanted me to. Now you eat like I want you to."

Sam waits for the bed to tilt up, pulling the tray table towards him. He wiggles against the thin hospital gown as he picks up and bites into the bland, soggy hospital sandwich. They tried to colour code it in Christmas colours with the tomatoes and lettuce and Sam really appreciates the effort.

He'd woken up early this morning to a very frantic, panicking big brother and a relieved Cas. Ellen and Bobby were by his bedside too and while Bobby had hugged him, Ellen had held him in her arms and kissed his forehead. So really, it's nice to see that Dean's loosened up ever since.

He can't remember much from last night. At least, he can't recollect what happened after he'd been cut, but Dean says he lost a lot of blood and was in shock. Ellen had turned up just as all hopes were lost and she'd arrested Carl for first degree murder and kidnapping. She'd also found the rest of the bodies, including the ones from ten years ago, and Nick. She'd taken an entire confession from Carl later at the station and with a judge's ruling, Carl will spend the rest of his life in prison, where he belongs.

"I remember, Dean," Sam had told him a bit after he'd woken up.

"What do you remember?" Dean asked him.

"Everything." And the tears were back, unexpected, unbidden, filling his eyes and crawling down Sam's cheeks. Dean's face fell and he got off his chair to sit beside Sam on the bed, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn't you."

"Dad—"

"Sam." Dean pressed his lips together for a brief moment. "That dude… Michael, was a fucking psycho bastard and he'd have come after you, had Dad not tried to go the police that day. And I'm glad he did, and that…" he shrugged, smiling, "that I have your sorry ass by my side."

Sam felt another tear leak out and Dean moved closer, pulling Sam up into a careful hug, hand cupping the base of his neck as he did so. Sam fisted his brother's shirt, feeling Dean's palm go up to brush the back of his head for a second before resting on his neck again, and letting his brother hold him through the pain.

"Sam?"

He breaks out of his reverie, looks up and realises that he's been silent a long time. "Nothing," he says, "just wondering how come Ellen knew to find us." He shakes a stubborn strand of hair off his eyes for the umpteenth time, and is about to brush the crumbs off his hands to bun them up, when Dean gets up and gathers Sam's hair, smirking as he produces a hair-tie from his pocket.

Sam lets him. He knows Dean and he knows that this is Dean dealing with almost losing him. And he can understand that.

"Ellen found your footprints in the snow," Dean mutters, settling back on the armchair. "She'd come to check on you because you freaked out when we found Michael, and she panicked when we weren't home and she couldn't reach either of our cells. She was leaving when she noticed that both of us had left the house, but my prints stopped outside of 1626, while yours went up to the door, and neither of us was back." Dean shrugs. "She attacked Carl and saved our bacon."

Sam shakes his head. "She's fucking badass, man."

"Isn't she?" Dean clears his throat. "You, though. Don't pull that shit again, okay?"

"Is this another chick-flick moment?" Sam asks his brother, smirking.

Dean smacks the back of Sam's head tenderly, like Sam's about to break. "Shut up, dude." He pauses while Sam takes another bite of the sandwich. "You gonna meet Sarah?"

Sarah was arrested for being an accessory to her brother's actions. Her name, however, brings only anger to Sam. He knows she needed to protect Carl, but Carl was also a psychopath who murdered innocents and there is a line to protecting such a person. Sam thinks, and maybe a part of him even hopes, that Carl gets sentenced to life imprisonment. Besides, it wasn't like Carl didn't know what he was doing, either. He knew every bit of it and Sarah still protected him.

He clenches his jaw. "No."

Dean opens his mouth to say something, but then he decides against it. "You ready to blow this popsicle stand?"

"What?!"

"I packed our bags. I'm getting you out of here. That's what you wanted, right?"

"Y-Yeah." Sam's throat tightens.

"So Merry Christmas, Sammy." Dean gives him a wan smile. "I'm taking you home and we never have to come back unless you want to.

"How's that for my first Christmas gift to you in ten years?"

Sam reaches out to clutch Dean's forearm and his brother gets up, sitting next to him on the bed and throwing an arm around Sam. "You gonna get all emo now?" he asks, as Sam cherishes his presence, feeling a million anxieties ease at once. Dean looks at him, into his eyes, and shakes him lightly. "Hey."

Sam lets himself rest against his brother's shoulder. God, he's exhausted beyond all physical, mental and emotional definitions of it and he can't even describe that. "Just wanna go home," he says quietly. "I'm so tired, Dean."

"I know," Dean says, "I know, little brother." His hands come to frame Sam's face as his lips brush once over the top of Sam's head. Sam shuts his eyes and breathes deeply. He hasn't felt so safe in ages. Dean is here.

"We're going back home," Dean whispers it like it's a mantra. "I mean, I know we probably gotta come back to testify against the bastard, but we'll be okay. We got each other's backs right?"

Sam nods, biting his lip. Dean sees right through it. Sam can't ever really hide much from his brother. "You scared? To come back?"

"Not scared. More like...I don't know if I can face him. See him again, see her again."

Sam looks up as Dean lays a hand on the back of Sam's neck. "Don't worry. I'm gonna be right there with you, like always. We'll get through this, I promise."

"Thanks, Dean," Sam says, giving him a small smile. Safe, he thinks.

They sit in comfortable silence for while. Sam is absently playing with his bedsheet when Dean clears his throat. He looks up in curiosity.

"Dean?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Sam frowns, uncertain as to what seems to be bothering his brother. "Sure."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Dean asks after a pause.

Sam's frown deepens. "Tell you what?"

"About the case." Fuck. "That you heard Cas talk about it, and then Ellen. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Sam gulps and shifts his gaze to his bed sheets. "I...It's just...ever since we got here, you were always on edge. You seemed to think that I would break at the slightest touch. I felt like a basket case, man. I...I thought maybe you'd think I was too...weak," Sam says, his expression turning one of disgust on the last word.

"That maybe you'd decide I wasn't strong enough to deal with it. Maybe you were right through. I wasn't strong enough," Sam's bottom lip trembles and he presses them into a thin line.

"Really?" The surprise in Dean's voice makes Sam look up. "Sammy...shit. I never thought you were weak. Hell, I think you're one of the strongest people I know. No one goes through the shit they did and still come out on top like you did, man."

"You don't mean that."

"Yeah, I do. I do mean it. You're not weak. Never have been. It wasn't me thinking you'd break, Sam. It was me thinking I'd lose you. Like Dad. I couldn't...I can't lose you again. I almost did last time. And I wasn't willing to take chances anymore. I'm sorry, Sammy."

Sam gapes, shocked. This is the last thing he expected Dean to say. "Wow," he manages. "You don't need to apologise. It's...wow. This shit is so screwed up, isn't it?"

"You can say that again," Dean scoffs. "It doesn't matter anymore. We're getting away from all this crap."

And for a moment, Sam lets himself believe that he will, indeed be able to leave everything that happened, right here in Lawrence. And either ways, Dean says it, so it must be true. Because, even if there's anything else, Dean will make it go away.

Just like he always does.

~o~

"Sammy?"

Sam looks up from his bags and tucks Dean's gift swiftly into his jeans pocket when he hears his brother at the doorway. It's still Christmas day and they arrived home earlier this afternoon, Sam having been kept at the hospital only for some observation. He was resuscitated for fluid and sewn up last night and the doctors were already happy with him by breakfast. The next few hours were just difficult to get through after that, because Sam can't stop being jittery and giddy about leaving this place. About going back to Omaha and never coming back here ever.

The whole town is decorated and chirpy today, all red and green and baubles and trees, flakes of snow floating down, light and pretty while children and parents enjoy and celebrate. Sam had watched them as Dean drove him back from the hospital, and he realises that he no longer envies these people. After last night, he's just glad to have Dean back, really.

"I've got something for you," Dean tells Sam, shaking him out of his reverie.

"Okay."

"Come with me."

He pauses in his tracks for a bit and then follows Dean to his room, thinking of the Christmas present he's got his brother. It bulges into his thigh from inside the pocket, reminding him of every moment that he's been meaning to give it to Dean. The problem is, they're in a good place now and Sam is sure Dean doubly hates Christmas, so he doesn't know if he should wait.

What will Dean say?

Sam keeps walking after Dean, lost in thought and staring at the floorboards until his brother comes to an abrupt halt, making Sam bump into him.

"Dude!" Dean whispers, indignant, and moves away, gesturing to the inside of his room. There is something obviously different about it and when Sam crosses the threshold to see it, all he can do is gasp out loud.

Decorated on the far wall, beside Dean's bed, are colourful Christmas ornaments, all hanging from strings and in the shape of a tree, complete with a star on top. There are more decorations around them, streamers and confetti and paper angels stuck onto strings and accompanied by tiny beads of light, which are entwined around the ornaments. Sam takes a deep whiff of the scent of evergreen fragrance that Dean has managed to spray onto all of it and turns to his brother, eyes widened.

"Dean!"

"You like Christmas, so…"

Dean trails off, face colouring a little as he moves away and pulls his curtains shut, plunging the room in semi-darkness. He flicks a switch on and immediately, the multi-coloured lights that have been twirled around the decoration come to life, flashing red, green and golden, and Sam takes a step closer, blinking to make sure he isn't dreaming, when he sees what's really on the baubles.

They're photos. Stuck to the surface of each ornament are pictures of their family. It starts at the bottom from when their mom was alive, with their dad, with Dean, with a toddler Dean and a baby Sam, and all in this house. From different stages of Sam and Dean's babyhood and Dean's toddler years. There are pictures of Sam lying in Dean's lap, of Dean's chubby arms hugging a bundled-up Sam, of their father carrying them both and laughing into the camera, like a true happy family.

Then it's just them and their dad, and pictures of their vacations and their birthdays and Christmas. and Dean's school graduation. It slowly thins out to just Sam and Dean as it starts with Sam's own graduation and his college days, and their friends at Nebraska, all reminding Sam of some of the best years of his life.

In the end, on the star on top, is the most recent picture they have that Cas had taken a couple of nights ago when they'd marathoned Star Wars. Sam is sitting stretched out on the couch, legs in Dean's lap as they both hold up beers, and they're laughing like every trouble they have in the world is gone. Sam remembers that moment. Cas had cracked some naïve little joke and he and Dean couldn't get themselves to stop laughing. They'd gone on until they had tears in their eyes, and until their cheeks and stomachs couldn't take it anymore.

This picture is always going to depict one of the most memorable nights of Sam's life. Cas had been a good part of his childhood, of growing up, and having him back was one of the most important things that took place on this trip and he is glad they got to reconnect. He knows why Dean was angry with Cas now, and while it was irrational on Dean's part, he can understand why Dean was pissed. He'd already lost John that night and Sam had been a close second. And Sam can't even imagine the horror for Dean.

He knows his big brother still carries that burden in his heart. And one day, Sam thinks, as he rubs absently at his new wounds, he will talk to Dean about it. He will reassure Dean that both Dean and Cas did the best they could that night; that he is grateful to them both, and won't let this happen again.

"So are you gonna tell me I'm awesome, or…?"

Sam snorts at Dean's words. He can't even believe Dean went through the trouble of putting this Christmas tree together for him. That his brother actually shoved aside all the bad memories that he carries from that Christmas to do something like this; something so difficult and painful for him.

At the same time, Sam can also believe that Dean did this, because he knows Dean can practically do anything when it comes to Sam.

Including protecting him if he were a psychopathic killer?

He swallows, remembering Sarah, and clenches his jaw. He'll take a while, but he thinks he won't be so angry after a few days. Hopefully, he won't. He doesn't want to be. She isn't getting out of prison that soon, though, so he has time. And he will talk to her once he can sort himself out a bit. Right now, it's just all painful and he wants no part in this.

Sam pushes Sarah away from his mind. "Dean," he breathes, getting back to the present, "you didn't need to do this."

"I said we'd start this year, Sammy," Dean replies. "And this is the beginning." He turns to Sam and cups his neck for a moment, squeezing lightly. "Merry Christmas, kiddo."

"Dean, if it's painful because Dad—"

"No, it's not," Dean tells him. "I lost Dad ten years ago. But I also got you back from the brink of death on this very day and it's two times now. If that ain't a miracle—"

"Aw, cheesy, man."

"Shut up, bitch."

Sam grins at him. "So. You're really okay with this?"

"Of course I am. I promise, all right?" Dean doesn't even grin back, proving his own earnestness and Sam knows he's not covering up and lying. And he feels his heart warm at that.

He reaches for his pocket and produces his own gift, an envelope. "So you'll not curse me if I give you a Christmas gift."

"Son of a—" Dean laughs as he takes it from Sam. "When did you do this?!"

"Just before we left from Omaha. I always give you a gift so don't act so surprised."

Dean starts to get the staples out. "Did you write me a love poem this year, Sammy?"

"Fuck off."

"Hey, okay! Grumpy much?"

Sam crosses his arms to watch Dean while he pulls the papers out of the envelope, to open them. And Dean does that, looks at them, and just stares at them for the next five minutes. There is heavy silence, illuminated by the Christmas lights sparkling from beside Sam. He doesn't even know if it's too dark for Dean to read it; if he should pull the curtains—

Ultimately, Sam freezes at his spot and stares back at his brother, heart pounding against his chest because Dean isn't fucking talking. "Dude," he says, "say something!"

The envelope and papers fall out of Dean's hands to the floor as he moves forward to wrap his arms around Sam. Sam hugs him back, as tight as Dean is holding him. He looks down at the lease papers for the apartment he's rented at Lincoln for him and Dean. "I just figured," he says, "I could help you more if I was staying closer. Make more flashcards and shit, you know. We'd also save money with your living facilities and all."

Dean pulls away. "What about your job?"

"Hilda has a friend in Lincoln and she's referred me to her firm," Sam tells him. "And I'll take up teaching at your college." His bites his lip. "I just thought… after all that crap with Ruby this year, you moved out almost immediately, and just… it's been a rough few months, so…" I just want to be home. He leaves that unsaid. Because home, for Sam, isn't an address or a room. It's Dean. It's always been Dean.

His brother seems to understand as he bends to pick the lease papers up. "I get you," he says. "Let's get out of here now. We'll appoint a realtor and sell this house first thing back at Omaha." Dean has a few more days with Sam in Omaha now. Initially the plan was to spend the entire holiday here and get Dean directly back to Lincoln, but Sam is glad that's been scrapped.

He can't stop smiling as he heads to his room to get his bags ready for the ride back home.

~o~

"So you're coming over to Omaha for New Year's right?" Sam asks Cas as they hug. He pats his friend on his back once.

Cas pulls away. "Of course. And now that your brother seems to approve, I will visit you more often."

"Cool," Sam says. "Stay in touch, okay?"

"Sam, ten years ago…"

"There is nothing you could have done," Sam interrupts him. "I was in a bad place, and…" he feels a wave of uneasiness as he shakes back his sleeves to reveal the bandages. "What I did, Cas, was not on you."

Cas nods, unconvinced, and Sam foresees a session of lecturing his brother and his friend about how his suicide attempt that night was not their fault. When he feels better about talking about the whole thing, though. Just not today. Not this soon.

"Sam—"

"Stay in touch."

Cas resigns. "I will."

He gives Sam a small nod before heading over to Dean and Sam watches them hug, watches them hold on for a moment more for the years they lost out on being friends like before. Dean clears his throat when they break apart, and pats Cas's shoulder. "Don't be a stranger."

"I'll text you. I like the emoticons."

"Awesome." Dean looks weirded out. "You won't stop being nerdy, will you?"

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No." Dean smiles. "And don't change."

"I promise to remain constant."

Their eyes exchange something; an apology or an understanding, and it lasts only a moment before it's gone. A rumble of a chuckle emanates from deep down Dean's throat and he opens the car door. "See ya, Cas."

"Bye, Dean."

And Sam knows now that there is finally closure.

He and Dean already met Ellen and Bobby earlier today, and Cas was the only person left to say goodbye to. He stands there as Dean pulls the car out, looking forlorn, and Sam knows that Cas doesn't have many friends. He was tempted to ask Cas to move to Nebraska and get a job there, but he guesses Cas will do it himself if this really kills him.

They pick up coffees from Garth's place while they leave and say goodbye to him, receiving tight hugs that they never asked for, but return generously. A few minutes later, Dean reaches the outskirts of the town and smirks at Sam. "Say goodbye to Lawrence, Sammy. Forever."

"Goodbye," Sam repeats, bored, not even glancing at the rear-view mirror for it. He reckons he can try, but can never forget this town and the memories attached with it. He can never pretend to overlook some of the people he met there, and he will never break relations with the friends he has in this town. What he will attempt to whitewash from his memory will be 1626, Eldridge Street, the one place that gave him hopes and happiness, and took it away from him in the same breath because of Michael.

He is, however glad that everyone found out about Michael, because Nick was a really nice man and Sam won't forget him either.

All he wants above everything, even though he's said it and thought it multiple times in many embarrassing way for the last two days, now, is home. And Sam watches his home, driving the Impala with his sunglasses on and singing Zeppelin loudly, and he relaxes into his seat and lets himself be thankful for everything he has right now.

The End

A/N: Again, sorry about my mess, ugh. I hope the story was enjoyable, and no one guessed the culprit lol. :p And here's a combined note from Sanjana and I:

Thank you for reading the fic! Before you leave, a few things we need to say:

1. Boykvngs is a talented, amazing person, and she seems to have deleted her blog post for the art but we still want to hug her forever.

2. Sam's degree from Creighton is as real as the university itself. Look it up! :)

3. This fic was almost named "Sam's Fabulous Hair" because it was mostly just about a very traumatised, extremely pretty Sam with amazing hair but we graduated from that and made it an actual story.

4. Anatomy sucks. The three of us, the authors and the beta, are all med students and even though Anatomy makes you want to drop your jaw (because the human body is brilliant), it really sucks. It's hard.

That's it. Reviews are love! Thank you! :)