Author's Note: Here's chapter 6! I'm so sorry that this is so incredibly short, but as I was writing it, it just seemed like the perfect place to end the chapter. The next one is already half-written, so it should be posted tomorrow (or with extreme luck, sometime tonight lol). Thanks to absolutely everyone who's left a review, as well as to everyone who's read this story. The responses have been amazing and it means the world to me. Thank you so much!

PS...A HUGE hug goes out to both sammygirl1963 and bylvie for their never-ending support and encouragement. You ladies make my day with every review and e-mail you send. Thank you! :o)

Disclaimer: I don't own Sammy or Dean. I'm just playing with them for a bit. I'll try to return them to Eric Kripe just as I found them, but I'm not promising anything.

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Dean let out a sigh, pushing his sunglasses to rest further up the bridge of his nose. The humidity was almost like a second skin as he sat there in the driver's seat of the Impala, waiting somewhat impatiently for the final bell to ring at McClellan Magnet High School.

The three Winchesters had just crossed into their second week staying in Little Rock, Arkansas. The Shapeshifter had only been ended late the night before, and Dean, for his part, was completely exhausted.

Being thrown into a wall by an eighty-year-old woman with super strength was enough to completely wear both him—and his ego—out. Not to mention he was bruised three ways from Sunday, his shoulder was still feeling funny, and he was sure he'd left a vital part of his anatomy on the cement floor of the sewer.

Sam on the other hand had absolutely refused to miss a day of classes. He'd ranted and raved for nearly an hour and a half that since they'd be leaving town in only a few short days, he wanted to complete as much work as he could.

Dean nearly cringed.

Sam wasn't going to be happy when he found out they were in fact leaving Little Rock that very night.

Let the games begin.

The only indication that Dean got that classes had ended was the tidal wave of students that suddenly poured from the front doors and flooded down the steps.

Deciding to take part in one of his favorite pastimes—girl watching—Dean threw open the door of the Impala and slid out. He took a deep breath as he rounded the front end of the car, situating himself casually against the hood in between the headlights.

From there, he had a perfect view of the doors and the steps, great for spotting Sammy and for watching the absolutely gorgeous girls who walked by.

Spring was Dean's favorite month of the year.

The pants went away and the mini-skirts came out.

He was so mesmerized by the absolutely delicious expression on the face of a pretty brunette walking by him that he didn't notice his little brother's arrival at his side.

"Y'know, you are unbelievable."

Dean smiled as he and Sam locked eyes. "Very true."

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

"I'm scoping."

"Scoping?"

"Yeah…and lemme tell you-" Another girl walked by in a short skirt. "Whoever invented the skirt was an absolute genius."

Sam sighed. "Dean-"

"Where have those legs been, baby, my god-"

"Dean!"

Snapping out of it, Dean swallowed hard and once again met Sam's eyes. "What?"

Looking completely unimpressed, Sam said, "If you wanna stay and eyeball, gimme the keys and I'll come get you later."

"Right, and did you get your license when I wasn't lookin'?"

"Shut up."

Dean nodded quickly, letting out a breath. "You need to take the time for the simple pleasures in life, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

"I mean, come on…so many legs, so little time."

Sam sighed. "Can we get outta here, please?"

"What's the rush?"

"I have a crap load of homework to get done for first period tomorrow, that's the rush."

"Y'know, you are the world's biggest nerd-"

"Oh be quiet-"

"Healthy sixteen-year-old and you're concerned about homework-" Dean shook his head and clapped Sam on the shoulder before walking around to the driver's side. "Hell, Sammy, start actin' your hormonal driven age, would you?"

"My name is Sam." He slid into the passenger seat, turning to watch as his brother slid in behind the wheel. "And y'know, just because I don't drool over every two-legged female in the Northern Hemisphere like you do, that doesn't mean that I'm a nerd."

"Yeah, it totally does."

"It does not."

The throaty rumble of the Impala, along with the blast of Metallica, quickly put an end to any further brotherly arguing.

***

Dean was pacing.

He was pacing, and he had been pacing for close to half an hour.

Practically a minute after Sam had opened his eyes, Dr. Hogarth and about four nurses had completely taken over the room, effectively—but gently—escorting Dean out to the hallway. And there he'd stayed; his face occasionally pressing against the glass of the window, trying his damndest to see through the small parts in the plastic blinds.

He could make out Sam's bed surrounded by medical staff. The only part of his little brother he could see were his blanket-covered legs, moving around slowly and weakly under the covers.

Dean had never wanted to be inside one room more in his entire existence.

In that room was his little brother, alive and hopefully on the road to being well. In that room was the one person in Dean's world that held the key to his sanity. In that room was the floppy-haired, doe-eyed boy with cute dimples that Dean had raised and protected, the boy he'd taken care of for as long as he could remember.

And despite the fact that it was doctors keeping Dean from his brother, the fact was, they were keeping him from his brother.

Dean started pacing again.

The memory was still fresh in Dean's mind; the tired slivers of hazel, the feeling of Sam's weak hand held tightly in his own.

The smile that was so precious it made Dean's heart clench.

It was all there. In that room.

"Dean?"

The surprise at hearing the sound of his own name, coupled with the raw emotion tidal waving over his entire body, almost made Dean throw up.

He whirled around and found himself face to face with Bobby; who instantly paled, eyes widening, at what must've been an absolutely terrifying expression on Dean's face.

"Bobby…"

"What?" Bobby put a hand on Dean's shoulder, giving the younger man a small but rough shake. "What happened?"

"Sam-"

"Sam what?"

At that moment, the tidal waving emotions overflowed and Dean found himself tearing up. Bobby was on the verge of freaking out, Dean could tell; so he swallowed hard and attempted to take a deep breath. He forced the words out of his mouth. "Sam's awake."

It took a moment for Bobby's brain to process the information; the words coming from Dean were not at all what the older hunter expected, given Dean's physical reaction. Dean was upset, hell, he was practically trembling. Bobby shook his head in disbelief. "Wait, what?"

"Sam. He's awake."

"Sam's—when?"

"Half hour ago, the doc's been in with him ever since."

Bobby released a long breath, pulling off his baseball cap and running a hand droopingly through his hair. "Thank Christ."

"He opened his eyes, smiled at me."

"He's ok?"

Dean shrugged, turning back to the window of Sam's room. "I dunno, I think so."

Moving to stand behind the younger man, Bobby placed a hand on each of Dean's shoulders and gave a reassuring squeeze. "He's ok, Dean, he's fine."

"What the hell's takin' them so long?"

As if on cue, Dean watched as Dr. Hogarth pulled away from Sam's bed and made his way towards the door. The doctor appeared in the open doorway only a second later, a bright and cheerful smile on his face.

Dean didn't even give him the chance to open his mouth. "Is Sam ok?"

Raising his hands in a placating manner, Hogarth nodded. "Sam is fine."

"He's ok?"

"He's awake, he's lucid—however, he's completely exhausted." Moving aside in the doorway, he motioned for Dean to go in. "He's asking for you."

The moment of truth had arrived. Sam was awake, he was talking…and he was asking for his big brother.

Pushing his heart out of his throat and back into his chest, Dean swallowed hard and pushed past the doctor. The nurses were leaving as well and they all smiled at him as they passed; for the first time since he'd been there, Dean was able to return the gesture genuinely.

His eyes traveled to the familiar form in the bed and he swallowed hard again.

The back of Sam's bed had been raised and he was sitting up just slightly. Sam's eyes were open and as soon as they locked with Dean's, he smiled and raised his right hand in a feeble wave.

The breathing tube was gone, the ventilator was disconnected and sitting silent in the corner of the room. The room itself somehow seemed more welcoming as Dean walked up to his brother's bed.

It was brighter.

Sam was still smiling. "Hey." His voice was barely a whisper and Dean could hear an underlying rawness. He could imagine the pain of having the tube pulled out and hardly controlled a shudder.

Sam opened his mouth to speak again but Dean held up a hand and shook his head. "Don't talk ok?" Finally coming to a stop at Sam's bedside, he reached down and placed a hand lightly against Sam's shoulder; he wanted to hug him, he wanted to pull Sam close and never let him go.

Two things stopped Dean from doing that; one, Sam was obviously in rough shape…and two, Dean knew that if he made a physical move like that, he would lose whatever control he had.

So he settled for squeezing Sam's shoulder tightly, but gently.

Sam must've seen something in his big brother's eyes because he blinked slowly and took a deep breath. Slowly, so that Dean could understand, Sam mouthed the words "Doc says I'm ok."

Dean nodded tightly and sniffled.

Carefully, almost painfully so, Sam reached up his hand and gripped Dean's forearm. It was a ploy to get Dean's attention and it worked; Dean's eyes darted up and as soon as they locked gazes, Sam mouthed again. "I'm sorry."

And as easily as that, the levee broke.

Moisture welled alarmingly fast in Dean's eyes and he shook his head, desperately trying to keep control of himself. In an incredibly rough voice, he managed to force out, "Don't you dare say you're sorry."

Sam blinked and squeezed Dean's forearm again.

Dean's body suddenly weighed an absolute ton. The desperation he'd felt, the anxiousness, the worry, the terror, the complete and utter sadness of having to see his brother motionless and still. It came crashing on to him in a single instant, and against his will, he found himself leaning forward.

His forehead made a slow and dejected contact with Sam's chest, his eyes tightly closed in an effort to keep the moisture in.

With his head on Sam's chest, Dean could hear the strong heartbeat. He could feel the now natural rise and fall of his brother's chest. He could feel the warmth; warmth meant life and existence. Warmth meant Sam was ok.

And he cried.

Silently and strongly, his forehead buried into Sam's rough hospital gown.

And even though it was a simple movement, with hardly any physical strength or power…when Dean felt Sam's hand fall limply against the back of his head, his brother's fingers running gently and soothingly through his short hair…Dean in fact realized that the action had all the power in the world.