A/N: Just a quick thank you to LilyBolt, mandancie, mb64, FallenAngelWolf aka lilysmom09, and tricia for your reviews! Thanks also to those who have read, followed and/or favorited this. And no, I don't own Supernatural. Sigh.

Chapter 10

Time passed slowly, minutes dragging like hours. Initially, Sam had alternated his frequent glances between the clock in the corner of the waiting room and the door of the waiting room, expecting a stone faced doctor to call his name and announce that Dean had died or was taking a turn for the worst. Granted, the Winchesters had escaped death on more occasions than was humanly possible; fuck, he'd lost count how many times either of them had died and been resurrected since their reunion back in '05. But even with that somewhat reassuring bit of information, Sam couldn't help but wonder if this time would be the last time some for of divine intervention would work in their favour.

Come to think of it, it was disturbing how Sam was even alive in the first place considering what had happened in the Benders' cellar earlier. The details were fuzzy, but the young hunter clearly remembered being stabbed by Missy Bender; could hear his brother's weak, yet agonizing cries in the distance as he fell. And though Sam's primary concern would be Dean's safety, by all logic he should be at least stiff and achy. And yet he felt fine, at least physically. In the privacy of the abandoned cellar, as Dean waited outside, Sam had quickly lifted his shirt to examine his wounds. He found nothing; no telltale scars, no stab wounds; the only reminder that something had actually happened was the blood staining his shirt, bare chest, and the knife which still remained abandoned on the cellar floor. Clearly someone, or something, had intervened on his behalf. Obviously not Dean; even if he was still willing to make demon deals, there was no way that he would, in his condition, summon a demon on his brother's behalf. Hell, he didn't even have time to do so. Cas was human, so there was no way that the former angel had saved him.

Sam rubbed his aching temples gingerly, legs fidgeting as he sat in that god awful plastic chair. By now the room had emptied significantly, with only about a quarter of the room filled with restless family members. Occasionally, a new face would straggle in, plop in unoccupied chairs, or pace the perimeter, turning nervous glances at the clock. Sam ignored the newcomers, by now simply sitting with his face in his palms. He was exhausted; between confusion regarding his miraculous recovery and fear for his brother, Sam was physically and emotionally exhausted. After a while, he dozed off, drifting in and out of restless sleep, occasionally jarred awake by a sudden noise or the ache in his shoulders and lower back.

"Family of Mr. Winchester?"

Sam jolted awake; he didn't respond at first, almost surprised to hear his own name being called instead of one of their usual aliases.

"Yes, that's me." Sam had managed to regain his bearings, and stood to acknowledge the doctor standing at the door. The doctor, a young man with reddish blond hair, grey eyes, and freckles, extended his hand. "I'm Doctor Stiles," he greeted warmly. Sam shook the outstretched hand mechanically. "How's my brother?"

"Mr. Winchester has been treated for mild hypothermia and is being treated with antibiotics for a slight infection. Many of his injuries were treatable and should heal nicely. He has a few broken ribs and will likely find walking quite painful. Our biggest concern was with internal hemorrhaging. We did locate an area near his spleen which was cause for worry, but surgery has corrected the issue. I feel confident, Mr. Winchester, that your brother will be just fine."

Sam slowly released the breath he'd been holding during the doctor's conversation. "Thanks, doctor. Is it alright if I see him?"

"Of course. Though it may be a while before the anaesthesia wears off. Follow me."

Sam thought he had done quite well at containing his emotions as he followed Dr. Stiles along a series of sterile hallways, had even managed to answer as he continued to brief him on Dean's condition. It wasn't until he was alone, at his brother's bedside, when Sam nearly lost his cool. As expected, the eldest Winchester was still unconscious, the pallor of his face augmenting the freckles. Heavy bandage were wrapped around his head where Missy Bender had kicked him, and around his bare chest. Tubes and wires seemed to be connected from everywhere and Sam had to close his eyes, unwilling to witness his brother looking so helpless. Sam felt the familiar moisture form from beneath his lids and he blinked them away. If Dean were to wake up at this moment, he wouldn't be seeing his kid brother crying.

Sam drew a deep, calming breath. The doctor had said Dean would be fine. They'd dodged another bullet. It was the Winchester fucking way, after all. All's well that ends well, right? Besides, if either of them had thought of the "what if's" of hunting, both of them would have been in the goddamned psych ward by now. It wasn't healthy to worry about the past, other than to identify your mistakes and learn from them. So why was this time bothering him? Why was this brush with death so much worse than the other times the brothers had nearly punched their one way ticket to a hunter's funeral? Sam sighed, settled into the uncomfortable chair reserved for visitors, hands folded in his lap as he watched his brother sleep. It still bothered him how he should have been dead. And the memory lapses he had suffered for weeks since he had let go of the trials. Not to mention the fact that Dean was pretty much walking away scott free too.

"Dude. Stop staring at me. I'm handsome but I don't swing that way, thanks."

"Dean." Relief once more overwhelmed Sam at the sound of his brother's voice, raspy and weak. "How you feeling, man?"

"Like shit."

"Yeah, that tends to happen when you get kidnapped by redneck cannibals."

"Shut up." Dean looked at his brother, as if inspecting him, before nodding as if in satisfaction. Sam, however, didn't catch on to his brother's reaction, his relief for his well being trumping any suspicions that something weird was going on. Dean, looking as if he had almost let the cat out of the bag, immediately changed the subject.

"There's still a wendigo running around out there."

"Really?" Sam arched an eyebrow, an incredulous look on his face. You just get over being a human pinata and you want to hunt a wendigo? Jesus Christ."

"Well, that sonofabitch isn't gonna hunt itself."

"So, we'll call Garth. Or some other hunter. You could have died, Dean. And you're in no shape to go on a hunt anyway. Besides, do you really want to stick around when there's a crime scene not an hour away we just left?"

Yeah. And the longer you're distracted with hunts, the longer Zeke can stay and heal you. Instead, Dean simply nodded. "Yeah, fine."

"Good." Sam nodded, gently patting his brother on the leg. "Now get some rest. The sooner you heal the sooner we can bust you out of here."

Dean nodded weakly. "Amen to that, bro."

XXX

As promised, the Winchesters slipped away unnoticed from the hospital a few days later. Dean's eyes shone at the sight of the Impala, waiting like an old friend waiting at the entrance, the chrome gleaming in the sun. Its rays reflected in the chrome, and for a moment, Sam felt a strange sense of deja view. Quickly he brushed the unsettling thoughts aside; he didn't have time to worry about that stuff, especially since Dean, though much better than anticipated, would still have at least a week of recovery before he could go back to the hunt. It surprised the younger Winchester that his brother seemed actually quite eager to spend that much time resting. Normally, Dean absolutely hated the long stretches between hunts, was bored out of his skull. So when Dean nodded in agreement to Sam's suggestion, with little to no hesitation, the taller man shot him a rather quizzical look. Almost immediately Dean tried to alter his expression, as if he were trying to act more miserable than he was, but Sam was no fool. He may have been exhausted, but he was definitely no fool.

"Let's blow this Popsicle stand," Dean grinned, pulling his keys out of the pocket of his jeans. Sam immediately shot him one of his patented bitchfaces, the one which clearly read you are a bigger idiot than I thought if you think you're driving after nearly getting yourself Donner partied. Sighing, Dean tossed his brother the keys. "Fine. You can drive. But if you so much as scratch my car I swear I'll haunt your ass."

"I'll take my chances, thanks." Sam deftly caught the keys and helped his brother into the passenger side before sliding behind the wheel himself. "But I will be nice and let you pick the music, since you were so nice about it." Dean huffed, but did not hesitate to choose Sabbath's Paranoid and push the cassette into the tape deck. As the heavy metal filled the car, Dean leaned back into his seat, sliding a pair of shades over his jade irises, and smiled. At least he had a week or so to keep Zeke safely possessing his brother (how fucked up an idea is that, he thought), to relax, spend some time with Sammy, maybe hit a bar or two. Yeah, he would be bored out of his freaking mind within a couple of days, but at least he would know his brother would be safe, if only for a little while. He shuddered, thinking of just how close he had come to losing his brother. Again. What is with you Winchesters, huh? Bobby's voice, clear and ever full of wisdom. Just inching to throw yourselves into the pit. Yeah, and possess baby brothers with fucking angels too. But he would do whatever it takes to protect his brother. Even if it meant lying to him. The smile slipped from his lips, and Dean closed his eyes. It would be another forty minutes or so back to the motel, and from there, about six hours to the border. Plenty of time to reflect on the fucked up situation he was in. Or, better still, six hours to sleep.

Dean sighed, closed his eyes. Maybe a week off wasn't such a great idea after all.

A/N: Well, there's another chapter fic finished. I really hope you enjoyed it! I know I left this one a tad open ended, leaving room for a potential sequel. Let me know if you want to read more about the Sam/Zeke situation. Reviews are love btw! And thanks so much for the support, it means a lot! Have a great week! - jojospn