It felt like years to Dean. He was chained to a post and helpless, forced to watch his brother's innocence get stripped away from him. They were hungry and tired and both of them were terrified, to the point where even Dean could no longer mask it.

Before, John was insane, yes, but there was still a semblance of method to his madness, and Dean could easily bear the brunt of his attacks. Prison had changed him, though. The insanity of monster hunting was now coupled with the maniacal scheming of a man who no longer had anything to lose. Dean wasn't even sure if John was still a man at this point. He had shied as far away as he could from the "supernatural" forces that John insisted were real, but he couldn't help but think that if there were such a thing as demons, they had to look an awful lot like his father did now.

There were no words to describe the torture that John was putting them through. He kept insisting that Sam and Dean were not his children, and he was determined to discover what kind of monster they were.

He had sliced their skin with various instruments, waterboarded them in water that he insisted had been blessed by a priest, forced salt down their throats, and burned them. When each attempt failed, he would become overwhelmed with anger and just beat the shit out of them.

The worst of all, though, was the way every time Sam looked to Dean for help and there was nothing Dean could do, he had to watch the hope fade away from his brother. Dean had already made his peace that he would die here, but he couldn't fathom the idea of his brother being forced to meet the same fate.

When he wasn't trying to figure out what they were, John left them chained up and usually got drunk somewhere. Dean still wasn't sure how he could be so careless and not get caught for anything or recognized as the escaped convict that he was sure someone was looking for.

There was no way of tracing the time, except by John's visits. but everything stretched on long enough that Dean was resigned to the realization that there was no one looking for them.

The next time John left, he pulled himself together and forced himself to look at his baby brother. Sam had long since given up on looking at Dean; he had finally realized that Dean was just as helpless as he was, if not more.

Dean had to do something, though. He cleared his throat, but Sam didn't even lift his head.

"Sammy?" he asked hoarsely, his throat worn out from the screaming he'd done.

Sam returned an indecipherable grunt.

"Do you want to hear a pirate story?" Dean asked.

Sam slowly raised his head and looked at Dean, incredulous at first, but then he realized that Dean was serious and he slowly nodded his head.

Dean took a deep breath and winced at the pain in his ribs before continuing.

"Once upon a time, there were two pirates, and they were the kings of the high seas." He paused, waiting for Sam to correct him and tell him that pirates couldn't be kings, but nothing came from Sam's corner. Dean sighed softly and continued.

"They sailed around on their own for a long time, but eventually they realized that they would never get anywhere on their own, so they applied to the international guild of high sea robbers." This, at least, got him Sam's full attention even if the younger boy showed no emotion in the process.

"Their application was denied," he continued, pausing to cough, "but they had watched the guild closely, and they knew that they wanted to be part of something like that. They didn't want to be alone anymore. They decided that being part of the system wouldn't be their best option, but they were not sure if there even was another one. They were resourceful pirates, though, so they decided to form their own group. They flew their skull and crossbone banner high and proud and sailed around the seas, looking for anyone to join. Most of their options didn't work out because people on the high seas took one look at the banner and turned the other way without getting to know that the two pirates didn't mean them any harm. Eventually, though, they approached a beautiful yacht and it didn't turn away. Its captain was a pirate once, and he lived by the philosophy that if the pirates don't shoot first, he'll give them whatever they need, because he knew how hard it was to survive on the high seas."

Sam's face didn't really change, but Dean saw the spark of something rekindle deep in his brother's eyes at the reference to Bobby.

"As the pirates got closer, the captain asked them what it was they wanted, and they explained that living on their own was getting them nowhere, and because the captain was probaby the best man sailing on the high seas, he invited them aboard and offered to teach them everything they needed to know so that they could go somewhere with their lives and never have to live on a pirate ship again. The pirates eagerly accepted and were overjoyed to start their new life. With only a couple bumps along the way, they adapted to their new life, and they had never been happier. Suddenly they had crewmates and they shared a bunk where they each talked about the things that they had learned and avoided talking about the people that they were falling in love with."

Sam frowned as if to contradict Dean's comment, but Dean pushed over, overly excited to have finally earned a legitimate reaction from his brother.

"The older pirate had his heart set on a dashing brunette with eyes that looked like all the most beautiful things in the world were the buried treasure that created the sparkles in their blueness."

"What?" Sam asked, so quietly that Dean almost missed it.

He grinned giddily. "Sorry, got a little carried away. You know I could talk about Cas forever," he apologized. "It's his own fault for being so damn gorgeous."

"Okay, gross. Please just," Sam hesitated, but Dean knew what he was going to ask.

"Sure, Sammy," he replied affectionately. "Anyway, the older pirate was enamored with an angel incarnate, while the younger pirate was currently more into blondes." He smirked teasingly in Sammy's direction.

Sam shook his head, then winced at the apparent pain that the action caused.

Eager to move past any memory of pain, or why they had it, Dean carried on with the story. "What the pirates didn't know was that their ship was cursed and if they didn't occupy it, an evil sea monster would chase after them and try to force them back into their lonely servitude. They were captured by the monster and dragged to the bottom of the ocean where they were forced to be slaves in a slimy, underwater castle. They thought that they'd never see the yacht or any of their new family again, but they had underestimated their associates because what they didn't know was that in a guild, the members never give you up. The others on the yacht worked tirelessly to find a way to break the curse, and one day, they finally found the solution, freeing the pirates from the castle and slaying the monster forever. The two pirates made their way back to the yacht and lived there happily for the rest of their lives, raising the younger pirate's many children with the help of their partners. The older pirate, of course, married his angel, and the captain officially inducted them into the guild onboard the yacht."

"Happily ever after?" Sam asked, what sounded like hope creeping into his voice.

"Of course, Sammy. They got their happily ever after," Dean promised, feeling empty inside as he spun empty lies although he couldn't help clinging to the tiny shreds of hope that his work of fiction was creating.

There was a comfortable silence for a while, then Sam asked wistfully, "Dean? What was the solution to killing the monster?"

"I have no clue," Dean answered honestly. "We'll have to ask Bobby and Cas after they get us out of here."

Sam hummed thoughtfully. "Are you sure they haven't forgotten about us?"

"If there's anything I learned from being with Bobby, it's that he'll never abandon us. He knows that we need him. As soon as he stopped waiting for us to find our own way back, he got every master mind in the country to help him get us out of here!"

Sam nodded. "Thanks, Dee," he whispered.

"Anytime, bitch," Dean replied, nearly genuine happiness in his voice.

"Jerk."


After that, time began to blur together. John brought new instruments and tried them out, Dean and Sam bore the brunt of his dissatisfaction, and then he would leave and Dean would tell a pirate story.

Slowly but surely, he began to rebuild the hope in his brother's eyes, but he was beginning to wonder how much longer he would last here.

He thought about Cas, but that started to hurt to because he began to build irrational thoughts about how if Cas really loved him, he would have rescued him by now. Obviously, Cas was only human and probably still believed that Dean had taken his heart and run with it.

Still, it was hard to have to realize that he and Sam had no hope of rescue. The more he insisted to Sam that the cavalry was practically around the corner, though, the more he believed it himself.

Then the door slammed open with all of John's usual force, and Dean quickly cleared his mind so that his father was not even more outraged by unsolicited good cheer.

It wasn't John, though.

A whole horde of people came streaming through the door, and none of them were John. Dean started shaking, terrified that this would be it, that he was going to have to watch his brother die, because they could barely survive John beating on them, there was no way they could withstand this whole army.

Then he focused and realized that the horde of people was made up of a whole lot of bullet proof vests, and they all said "FBI" on them.

The relief was palpable, and his knees gave out on him, which didn't make much difference considering that he was chained to a post, but it was the embarrassment of being unable to hold himself up that counted.

Having cleared the room, hands began working at his chains, but he struggled against them. "Sammy first," he insisted until someone shook his shoulder gently and showed him that Sam was being taken care of as well.

When the chains were finally cut and the shackles were loosened, Dean realized just how weak he really was without the support he had been relying on for days. He tried to stumble over to Sam, but he was held back easily by the buff and tough agents who were determined to keep him where he was.

Then he heard the slightest whimper of pain from Sammy, and the adrenaline running through his veins let him break free of their hold in an instant and run to his brother, where he collapsed and just cradled Sam's head in his lap, stroking his long, unruly hair and dropping countless tears on the battered face that he loved so dearly.

"Sammy," he whispered.

"'M alright now, Dee," Sam promised in the same low tone.

Dean couldn't have moved if he tried at this point. He barely managed to get his hand around Sam's arms before his muscles stopped cooperating.

He could yell just fine though, and everyone who tried to make him let go of his brother quickly discovered that.

"NO! I just got him back, you can't take him!" He insisted hotly to the SWAT team, the FBI, and the paramedics.

"Dean!" one of the paramedics shouted back, getting in his face and forcing him to focus.

Dean froze. "Gabe?" His mind refused to process how close they had to have been to home for Gabe to be a responding paramedic here because it was busy trying to reconcile the fact that Gabe had never led him wrong with the fact that Gabe was gently prying his hand off Sam's arm. "Why?" he asked brokenly.

"We have to check his injuries and get him an IV," Gabe explained evenly now that Dean was done being hysterical. "I promise that as soon as you are both stable and secure, you can see as much of each other as you'd like, but for now, we need space to take care of each of you."

Dean nodded numbly, blindly trusting Gabe, and let the paramedic do his job, watching everything they did to Sam critically until both boys were shut in separate ambulances for the trip to the emergency room. As soon as the doors shut, it was like a switch was flipped in Dean's brain, and he grabbed Gabe's arm urgently.

"What is it, Dean?" Gabe asked, concerned.

"Cas?" Dean asked desperately. He wasn't sure what to ask, but he had to know the answer.

Gabe's face softened slightly. "He's been worried sick. He'll be meeting you at the hospital with Bobby."

Dean hadn't realized just how much he cared whether or not Cas still cared until the weight of the world was lifted off his shoulders for the second or third time that day. He zoned out and let the paramedics do their jobs, wondering if sheer willpower could get them to the hospital any faster.

It was a few hours of tests and poking and prodding and transfusions and IV's before they finally decided that while neither boy needed any surgery, they would need some other treatment and some close observation for a little while.

Both were wheeled into a double room and hooked up to their various machinery before the curtain was pulled back and Dean could look over and see his brother's face again for the first time in forever.

"Heya, Sammy," he smiled.

Sam beamed back. "Dee," was all he said, but worlds of emotion were conveyed in the simple syllable.

By the time Bobby slipped through the door, they were comparing diagnoses and arguing like children over whose was worse, between Dean's double pneumonia and Sam's total of forty-seven stitches and one more cracked rib than Dean.

Bobby shook his head ruefully, unwilling to admit to the source of the sudden cloudiness in his vision as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

"Welcome home, boys," he said gruffly, stepping up to their beds so he could grab one of their hands in each of his and squeeze gently.

(To preserve the dignity of the three exceptionally manly men depicted here, the next ten minutes have been cut from history.)

Dean cleared his throat and attributed the moisture on his face to the fact that the hospital was warmer than John's hell hole.

He looked away from his uncle and brother, afraid the emotion would well up again, and focused on the doorway for a moment, until he saw the mop of unruly hair hovering near the entrance.

He froze, the words sticking in his throat as he tried to call for the other boy, and according to the beeping monitors, his heart rate began to accelerate.

At the increased beeping, the mop of hair materialized into the vision that Dean had missed more than anything.

"Dean," he breathed, hesitating in the doorway.

Dean lifted his free hand, terrified of what the reception would be, and forced a hopeful smile. "Cas?"

In a blur of dark hair and sparkling eyes, Dean found himself enveloped in an incredibly gentle hug, and he was wholly unashamed of the tears that he shed at the feeling of finally being back where he belonged.

Cas finally pulled back enough to press a tender kiss to Dean's lips, which Dean returned eagerly, then rested their foreheads together so they could just look into each other's eyes.

"I love you," Dean whispered, totally uninhibited.

Cas smiled widely and leaned impossibly closer. Dean felt His returned "I love you more," against his own lips rather than heard it, and he quickly closed the gap, sealing their declarations for all of time within that kiss.

Dean laid in the bed, caught between Cas and his family, and for the first time ever was hit by the realization that he didn't have to choose. He pulled back from Cas slightly, causing the other boy to frown.

"Don't do that, angel. I was just going to ask if you guys had chairs so that I never have to let you out of my sight again," Dean assured him tenderly.

Bobby grunted and mentioned going to get some before doing just that, but Cas just curled up on Dean's bed and pillowed his head on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, babe," he whispered. "I'm never letting you go."

Dean glanced over and caught Sam's approving smile. "Happily ever after?" the little shit teased, but Dean didn't have the heart to even be annoyed.

He smiled back cheesily. "Uh huh," he agreed. "Happily ever after."