Dean hadn't expected to wake up.

He especially hadn't expected to wake up in the same bed, without having all kinds of crap hooked up to him or something. His hand came up to his face when he felt something on it.

"It's a nasal cannula," Dr. House's voice sounded beside him, and Dean looked over to see him seated beside the bed, obviously having come in a little early at the news. "Oxygen."

"What happened?" Dean asked, momentarily confused.

"You had a panic attack," he replied. "Pretty big one." Dean shook his head, looking away. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Dean. It happens. You were worried about Sam. It was scary waking up to that."

And suddenly Dean was freaking out again, the machine beside him that he hadn't known was there started beeping as his heart rate increased. He looked back over to the doctor. "Sam..."

"Sam is okay," the doctor assured him.

"But he ain't back here," Dean argued.

"He's in surgery," House informed him, and when Dean's eyes widened in panic, he continued, "There was a small bleed, and they're getting it fixed up. He's gonna be okay."

Dean stared up at the ceiling as he tried to calm himself down. "How much more, doc? Huh?" he asked. "How much more does he have to go through? He's done so much good in this world that no one will ever know about, and what does he get in return? A rare illness brought on my a damn mosquito... His life hanging in the balance because our insect repellant expired. Tell me how it's fair. Tell me why I gotta sit here wondering if the only thing I care about in this whole world is gonna ever leave this hospital?"

"Everyone that ends up here or any hospital wonders that."

"Well he ain't everyone," his voice shook. "And he doesn't even remember...God...I need to get outta here," he said, pulling the cannula off of his face and moving to sit up.

"You should stay," the doctor told him. "You're probably exhausted."

"I'm going crazy sitting here waiting," he countered, pulling off the leads stuck to him for monitoring, and the machine alarmed.

House turned off the monitor. "And where are you gonna go? It's four in the morning."

"I dunno. Take a drive. Clear my head."

"And if something happens and we need you?" he raised a brow.

"Then you've got my number," he replied after a moment. "I'm comin' back. I would never leave him. But I need some time to myself outside of these walls or I'm gonna have a nervous breakdown and I can't promise I won't take someone down with me..."

.~*~.

Dean drove.

He had no idea where the hell he was going. In fact, he had stopped at some point and started heading back. Passed the hospital, and kept going. He drove.

The sun had come up at some point. He didn't really notice. He didn't notice anything, really, until the gas light came on in the car. Then he stopped.

The gas station was kind of small and in the middle of this nowhere place he'd ended up. Well, not a nowhere place. There were other things around it. Small mom and pop shops everywhere, in strips of stores that lined the one-lane road he'd somehow managed to end up on.

As he pumped gas, he glanced directly across the street. A jewelry store. He watched as a couple came walking out of it holding hands and smiling at one another. He didn't think much about it.

Dean went inside to pay the cashier and glanced back across the street, and something suddenly just...clicked in his head. Like the awareness that had been so cut off since Sam's cries of agony that morning, suddenly came back again. The darkness of hopelessness that had been blanketed around him had suddenly vanished and he could finally see.

He wasn't sure why, really. It just happened, like some part of him knew Sam was gonna be okay. In all logical reasoning, there was no way to know whether this feeling was true or not. Not without going back to see what was going on, if anything. But for some reason, his gut...no...his heart was telling him that Sam was going to be okay.

Dean walked across the street.

.~*~.

Greg stood outside of the Grovkowski's room with his cell to his ear, waiting for Dean to pick up.

"Yeah," his voice sounded on the other end when he finally picked up.

"Wanted to make sure you were still alive," he said with raised brows, "And to let you know that Sam is out of recovery. Surgery was successful and his vitals are normal. He'll probably be waking up soon, and I thought it'd be good if you were here when he did."

"Be there in five," he replied quickly, and the line cut out. Greg shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked into the room at Sam. He made a small smile to himself, hoping Dean would like what he'd arranged.

Dean was there in the time he'd told Greg he would be. Back in his regular clothes, Greg was reminded that Dean was only admitted for precautionary reasons. Not that he'd forgotten that, but seeing him without the gown made it seem like he shouldn't really even be there.

Greg met him right as he walked into their room, Dean stopping once he entered, and looking at the different bed Sam was in now. That and the lack of Dean's.

"We uh..." Greg cleared his throat, "We needed the regular bed. Ran out," he lied. "So I arranged for Sam to have our oversized one. Figured you could share. You know...just until we have another open bed..."

Dean didn't look away from the massive bed. It was one of those beds they had for morbidly obese patients. Sometimes Sam got one anyway, just because it was a giant and his feet would end up hanging off the end, otherwise. But Dean knew what Greg was doing, and he wanted to hug the man.

So he did.

Greg was a little surprised at first, but let out a laugh as he returned the hug. "You're welcome. Now get to bed. Careful of the IV line, and when he wakes up, don't let him move his head around a whole lot."

"Thanks, man," Dean pulled away, nodding at him in gratitude. Greg just gave him a smile and watched him as he toed off his boots and climbed into the bed, carefully, and curled up beside Sam, his hand taking hold of his brother's as he laid his head on the pillow and just watched his sleeping face.

He was on Sam's left side, and could see where they'd shaved part of his head ending right beneath where the bandage covered. It made him a little sad. As much as he'd picked on Sam's hair over their lifetime, seeing it go was a little heart-wrenching. But hair grew back. All that mattered was Sam getting better.

.~*~.

Sam woke to the feeling of fingers gently running over the hair near the back of his neck. He smelled Dean before realizing his hand was being held, fingered laced through fingers. He opened his eyes and looked down to his hand, first. Dean's held onto his on the small space of mattress between them, his free hand lying up over Sam's shoulder and playing with the hair beneath the bandage.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," Dean smirked.

"Hey...what happened?" he asked groggily. "Why are aren't you in your own bed?"

"You had a complication from the biopsy," Dean told him, hand moving to Sam's neck to rest there as his thumb brushed at the jawline. "It's all taken care of, now. And I had to give up my bed. We gotta share this Bigfoot-compatible one."

"Funny," Sam snorted. "Wait...complication?" his brows furrowed worriedly.

"It's all gonna be okay," Dean said, moving his hand to Sam's chest and rubbing through the gown, comfortingly. "There was a bleed and they fixed it. Only problem is they had to shave some of your hair, but it'll grow back."

Sam's hand went up to his head and Dean led it down to the spot where there was a revealed portion of shaved scalp. "Guess I'll have to shave the rest... Probably looks stupid."

"You could never look stupid, Sammy," Dean leaned in to peck him on the mouth. "Unless maybe we dyed your hair purple."

Sam made a face somewhere in the middle of amused and worried. "What's with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're...acting really...not like you."

"Oh," Dean looked off to the side for a moment. "Yeah uh...I dunno, Sam. I may have had a little nervous breakdown earlier," he admitted, meeting his eyes again. "But I'm okay, now. Maybe a little tired, and I guess I'm just...happy that you're awake. That...you're okay."

Sam looked at him for a long moment, then his lips formed a soft smile. "I'm not going down without a fight," he told him, carefully shifting so that he laid on his side facing his brother. "Not gonna leave you."

"Better not," Dean whispered, and Sam could see the exhaustion in his eyes. He moved a bit closer to kiss him, just for a moment, before settling back into the softness of the pillow, then pulled Dean closer to him, allowing and encouraging him to snuggle up. "'m so tired," Dean told him as his head burrowed into Sam's neck.

"Go to sleep," Sam replied. "'m not going anywhere..."