"Sammy, did you know that you're like really tall?" Dean said with a snort as he fiddled with the TV remote. Their mother had fallen asleep in her chair. Sam noticed the furrow between her brows; something was troubling her, even in her sleep. He got up and placed a blanket over her curled up figure.
"Yeah, Dean, kind of hard to miss." Sitting back down in his chair next to Dean's bed, he pondered whether Dean was too out of it to answer questions about what had happened.
"Do you know what happened earlier today Dean? Did you see anyone in the garage?" He asked carefully. Dean's jaw tensed and he looked down at his lap.
"Just…just brown hiking boots. That's all I saw. It must have been a guy at least."
"Okay, that's good. He didn't say anything?"
"No, Sam. I told you, that's all I know." His voice was suddenly edgy; he didn't want to talk about it anymore. Sam looked away and shifted uneasily in his seat.
"I'm going to try to get some sleep, see you in the morning." Dean rolled over to his side, back facing Sam.
"Okay, good night."
Sam had somehow managed to fall asleep in the uncomfortable chair. Muffled noises woke him and he immediately sat up, dragging a hand through his hair. What's going on? Is that- In the dark hospital room he could make out his brother restless shape, he was having some kind of bad dream. Sam scooted closer in his chair, should he wake him? A bead of sweat had formed on Dean's neck and he kept shifting from side to side.
"No…Stop." He gasped as if he was struggling to catch his breath. Sam turned to look at his mother in the corner, but she was fast asleep.
"Help- I can't bre-"He almost sobbed. Sam stomach clenched at the sight of his brother's writhing. He shook Dean's arm, he didn't care if he'd be pissed off or embarrassed.
"Dean, wake up." His eyes flew open and he instinctively grabbed the first thing he could reach, which happened to be Sam's arm.
"Ouch, Dean, let go. You're okay, you were having a bad dream." His grip on Sam's arm loosened. Sam could see that he was slowly but surely returning to reality.
"Sorry, uhm…didn't mean to wake you. I'm fine now." Dean muttered, clearing his throat.
"Dean, do you want to talk about it? You were dreaming about what happened right?"
"What are you, my therapist? Nah, Sammy, I'm fine. Just had a dream about baby, she was in a scrap yard. Happy now?" Sam knew his brother well enough to know that he only acted this way because he was scared.
"Dean-"
"Sam, what do you want me to tell you? Yeah, I almost died. Is it weird that it happened right after everything with Caleb? Yes. Can I do anything about it? Probably not." Dean said in a hushed tone, careful not to wake their mother. He ran a hand down his jaw and sighed.
"What kind of sick person would do something like that?" Sam said heatedly, looking out the window.
"Beats me, Sammy. I don't think I've made someone hate me that much." Dean replied sleepily. With a big yawn he puffed up his pillow.
"We should go back to sleep."
"Yeah." Sam saw that his brother was already half-asleep. He also yawned but all the recent events clouded his mind. What was happening? Everything that had been going on lately usually happened to someone over the course of several years. It can't be natural, he thought bitterly to himself. It was a rude awakening to say the least.
Dean's restless dreams didn't stop but they weren't as intense after Sam had woken him up. A ray of light hitting his face in the morning woke him up, turning to his right he saw that it was just 06:30. A lump weight on his legs made him look down. His little brother was asleep in his chair but resting on the foot of Dean's bed. Dean couldn't help but smile a little to himself. Sam looked about 5 years younger, mouth slightly open and snoring lightly, he was gone to the world.
"Hey Sammy, you're getting drool all over my leg." He said with mock disgusted voice as he shook his leg a bit. Sam jerked up abruptly, looking around confusedly. He wiped at his mouth after he realized what Dean had just said.
"What?" He mumbled groggily as he rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Bright and early, just like you like it. Why waste a perfect morning sleeping, huh?" Sam groaned in response after casting a look at the clock on the wall.
Dean's doctor decided that it was ok for him to go home, something Dean was visibly very relieved to hear. After a few last words from the doctor he was instantly on his way out of bed. Mary didn't miss him wincing as he did so.
"Dean, take it easy. You did bruise your ribs so it's completely normal that it hurts." He only grunted at her words, stubbornly gathering his things. Mary saw her youngest son roll his eyes. After some cursing Dean was ready to go. It only took a few steps for them all to realize that walking would be hard. Sam was immediately there by his brother's side as he clutched his chest with a muffled groan. Dean however ignored the help.
"The doctor said you will have to rest for 3-4 weeks Dean, so you might as well start taking it easy now."
"Come on Sammy, I'm not 80 years old, I just have a few bruised ribs. And I will not sit on my ass for 4 weeks, let me tell you."
As they made their way to the car where John waited, Mary was in deep thought. She knew she had to make changes around the house. Salt would have to placed by all windows and preferably by all doors, but she knew that the latter would be harder to explain. She would not let those demons come near her sons again. Almost grudgingly she had realized that what had happened to Dean was a reaction to her confrontation with Caleb. They had decided to show who really had the upper hand. But what exactly did they want? What Caleb had said also bothered her, something about November 2nd 1983. How did the demons expect her to remember that day specifically? What significance could that day possibly have? She would have to find out somehow.
