CHAPTER TEN

Dean goes home.

Several days later, Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting impatiently for Sam. "Where is he?"

"He'll be here in a minute, keep yer hair on."

Dean sighed and continued waiting until Sam finally came into the room. "Sam, where the hell have you been? I've been waiting to go for the past hour."

"I talked to your doctor, and I went back to Bobby's to sort something out."

"So, can I go?"

"Yeah, you can go... as long as you promise to still eat. Dr Morgan told me to bring you back if you have any problems."

The doctor didn't really want to release Dean yet, but he reluctantly agreed to let him go when Sam told him that keeping Dean here would make him stop eating again, since he seriously hated hospitals after what happened to their dad, and that he would recover better in a familiar place with his family around him. So Dr Morgan made Bobby and Sam promise to make sure Dean continued eating, but gave Sam leaflets about eating disorder clinics and treatment centres, just in-case.

Dean sighed, and looked at Bobby. "I don't have to come back, do I?"

"Only for yer appointments every two weeks. Can he go now?"

"Yeah. We just have to wait for..." Sam trailed off when a nurse came into the room with a wheelchair. "Her."

"Hey, Dean. Today's your big day, your chariot awaits."

"I'm not sitting in that thing."

"You're not going anywhere without one," said Sam, crossing his arms. "So you either get in the chair, or you can stay here... It's up to you."

Dean's glare deepened, and he almost stomped over to the chair like a child. "Fine," he sighed, sitting down.

Sam grinned at Bobby, and took the handles of the chair. "Come on, Dean. Your car is waiting," he said, pushing him down the corridor.

Dean's eyes seemed to light up at the mention of the Impala. "My car, how is she?"

"She's fine, Dean. You've only been away from her for just a week and a half," said Sam, pushing his brother outside and over to his beloved vehicle.

"My baby," said Dean, grinning as he ran his hand over the black door.

"I could leave you two alone if you want."

Dean turned to glare at him again. "Don't listen to him, baby," he said quietly, turning back to the car.

"Come on." Sam opened the passenger door, and helped Dean stand up.

Dean tried to shrug him off, but almost fell backwards. "Let me go."

"I'm just helping you, Dean. Remember, you said I could." After a bit of struggling, Sam finally got his brother into the car, and climbed in behind the wheel. "Bobby's following behind us. Do you want any music on?"

Dean leaned against the door, and shook his head. "No. I'm a little tired."

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Sam, frowning worriedly at him. "You still look a little pale."

"Yeah, I'm okay. Stop worrying, you're driving me crazy."

Sam started the car. "Do you want to get a burger on the way?"

Dean looked as if he was going to throw up. "Ugh. No thanks."

"Alright. I'll make you something you like when we get home."

"Home?" asked a frowning Dean.

"Yeah. Bobby's... You do remember we're staying there, right?"

"Of course I remember. I've lost weight, not my memory."

Sam smiled. It was good to hear some of the old Dean again.

When they got to Bobby's, the two men both went to help Dean out of the car.

Dean tried to shrug their hands off him. "Dudes, I can walk by myself."

"Shut yer mouth, boy," said Bobby with a fond expression, taking Dean's right arm, while Sam took the other.

"Yeah. We're taking care of you, so no complaining." Sam took his key from his pocket with his free hand, and opened the front door.

When the door was opened, the two men walked Dean over to the couch, which had pillows and a blanket over it.

"What the hell are those for?" asked Dean, nose wrinkling in disgust.

"That's where you're spending the day. The doctor said you need rest, and that's what you're going to get." Sam lowered Dean carefully onto the couch, and covered him up. "How are you doing? Do you need anything?"

"Yeah. A little peace," answered Dean, shifting slightly.

Sam caught the movement. "What's wrong? Do you need the bathroom? Ooh, do you need a drink?"

"Are ya warm enough, kid?" Bobby joined in with the questions.

"Oh my god. Is this what it's going to be like?"

"Yeah. Pretty much," said Sam, kneeling beside him. "Do you want to watch TV?"

Bobby walked over to Dean with a glass of orange juice, which he handed to Sam.

"Hey, Dean. We need you to take these," Sam told him, getting the pills out.

Dean looked at them, and sighed. He had started taking them in the hospital, but Sam and Bobby hadn't told him what they really were yet. They had only told him they were to help him.

"Come on, take them."

"Actually, I think they'd best be taken with food," said Bobby with raised eyebrows, looking at Dean.

Dean glanced at the pill in Sam's hand. "Maybe later, I'm a little tired right now. I want to sleep a little."

Sam wanted to argue, but noticed Dean did look tired with the black marks around his eyes. "Fine. But as soon as you wake up, we're making you something to eat, and you're going to take this."

"Fine," said Dean with a sigh, closing his eyes. He relaxed into the pillows, and fell asleep a few seconds later.

Sam rearranged the blanket to keep him warm, and got comfortable on the floor. "I'm here," he whispered, gently taking Dean's thin hand in his, stroking the back of it.

"Do ya want me to bring a chair in? It can't be that comfortable sitting on the floor."

"Sure. But I'm staying right here. Dean needs me."

"Sam, he's asleep. How the hell is he going to need ya?"

"I'm not leaving him, Bobby," said Sam, raising his voice slightly. "I..." He trailed off, tears filling his eyes.

Bobby sighed, and went to get a chair for the younger Winchester. He came back a few seconds later, with one of the kitchen chairs. "Here idjit."

"Thanks Bobby... for everything," said Sam, moving the chair as close as he could to the couch.

"Don't mention it, Sam. I'm going to start lunch. Are ya going to make Dean something when he wakes up?"

"Yeah. I'll make him something easy. Remember what the doctor said, start off with small meals, then get him onto bigger ones."

Bobby watched the brothers for a minute, before going into the kitchen.

When Sam was left alone with Dean, he leaned a little closer, and whispered so only Dean could hear him. "We're going to help you get better... We will."

A few hours later, Dean opened his eyes, and flinched when he saw Sam right above him just inches from his face. "Dude, what the hell?" he said in a weak voice.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sam. Will you stop asking me that?"

"No. I'm going to make you something to eat. Is toast okay?" asked Sam, getting to his feet. "And you're not allowed to say no."

"Yeah, sure," Dean answered with a shrug.

Sam grinned, and almost ran into the kitchen.

"I've never known anyone get so excited over toast," Dean said to Bobby, who was sitting in his chair.

"I know. But he only wants ya to get better. We both do."

Dean looked at his hands, and bit his lip. "I know."

When Sam came back with a piece of toast cut into four, Dean was staring blankly at the wall. It seemed to be a habit he had picked up recently.

"Hey, Dean?" asked Sam with a concerned expression as he sat down.

"What?" Dean turned to Sam, and sat up slightly, glaring at the toast as if it was a demon.

"Here you go," said Sam, handing Dean a little piece.

He took it with a slightly trembling hand, raising it slowly to his mouth to take a small bite. He only ate a mouthful, before handing it back to Sam.

"No. Try a little more."

"B-But I..." He took a trembling breath, and had another bite. The past few days, two mouthfuls was the most Dean had been able to eat. Sam didn't want to force him to eat more until he was ready.

After swallowing the second bite, Dean handed the small piece of toast back to Sam, looking even paler than he did before.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked him, hoping he wasn't going to be sick.

Dean swallowed a few times, and eventually nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"Are you ready to take this now?" asked Sam, handing Dean his pill and the juice.

"Thanks," said Dean, before swallowing the pill with a sip of water.

"Do you want to do anything?"

"Not really. Nothing much to do stuck on the couch."

Sam smiled sadly, and started rearranging the blanket again to make sure Dean didn't get cold.

"Dude, will you stop touching me?"

"Not touching, can't get mad," said Sam, waving his hand in-front of Dean's face. "Not touching, can't get mad."

Bobby shook his head, and chuckled at the childish behaviour.

Dean tried to grab Sam's hand, but he kept moving it away. "You're a freak."

"I'm a freak now, am I?" asked Sam pouting, but the pout gave way to a grin as he started tickling Dean gently.

"S-Stop," said Dean squirming, trying his best not to laugh. He couldn't help it, he laughed anyway.

Bobby and Sam had the biggest smiles on their faces. It had been so long since Dean had laughed properly.

"TICKLE TORTURE!" As Sam sat on the edge of the couch, still tickling his big brother, he tried not to think of how bony he was.

Dean laughed louder, turning his body slightly to get away from the attacking fingers, but Sam still managed to get him. "Get o-off," he managed through his laughter.

Sam didn't stop grinning. It was so good to see Dean laugh, and even better to see actual colour in his cheeks.

When Sam finally stopped tickling him, both were out of breath from all the laughing.

The colour suddenly seemed to drain from Dean's face, making Sam frown in concern. "Dean, are you-" was all he managed to say before Dean threw up all over him. "Whoa."

"S-Sorry," Dean whispered, wiping his mouth with the corner of the blanket.

Sam took the blanket off him, and Bobby went to get a clean one. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have tickled you when you've just eaten," he said, taking the blanket Bobby offered him to cover Dean back up. He raised his eyebrows in surprise when he also handed him a clean shirt, which he changed into quickly, before sitting back on the edge of the couch, taking Dean's hand gently in both of his. "It was fun. We haven't acted like that since we were kids."

Dean smiled back slightly. "Yeah," he agreed, looking down at their joined hands. "Except I haven't been a kid since I was four."

"I know. But it was nice being a kid again." Sam looked back at the toast on the coffee table. "Er... I know you probably won't eat again yet, so I'll make you something in about an hour or so."

"Oh joy. I'll look forward to it," said Dean sarcastically.

Sam reached out, and stroked Dean's hair away from his forehead with a loving expression. For some reason, since Dean had woke up in hospital, he felt really protective of him.

"Er... Sam, you're freaking me out."

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, eyes filling with tears. "It's just... I'm so glad you're okay, and you're letting us help you."

Dean lowered his eyes, suddenly interested in the blanket. "M-Me too. And I..."

"What, Dean? What's wrong?"

"You and Bobby..." Dean squirmed slightly in discomfort. He hated these kinds of moments.

Bobby got up from his chair, and joined his boys. "Sam and I what?"

Dean took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "You... I guess... The last few days, I've..." He growled in frustration. "I didn't really think anybody would care if I died or not, but... the past week and a half... you guys have shown how much you care about me... and love me."

"Of course we love you, you jerk."

"A-After dad died, I wanted to die too. But you guys... I guess you made me realise that I'm loved. It's why I started eating again. And it made me... I..."

"You what, Dean?" asked Sam gently, knowing how hard this was for Dean.

"A tiny part of me... Is... I don't want to die," Dean confessed with tear-filled eyes.

Sam smiled even as tears fell down his cheeks. "Oh Dean," he whispered, throwing his arms around his sibling.

Bobby watched the brothers, tears swimming in his own eyes. It seemed they had finally got through to the older Winchester.

"I-I'm going to try to get better. But I need you."

"We're not going anywhere. We'll be right here with you every step of the way."

Dean nodded against Sam's chest. "It still feels... A really big part of me..." He closed his eyes as a single tear overflowed and escaped down his cheek. "A huge part of me still feels that I want to die. But just a small part... a tiny part of me doesn't, not anymore. I don't know why I feel like that. I don't know what's wrong with me," he admitted quietly.

"Shh. It's going to be okay, Dean. I promise."

It seemed like Dean's stubbornness and strength (for now) had the upper hand over his depression.

Sam and Bobby hoped Dean kept fighting, and didn't let it win.

TBC

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