Part 10.

It's not something he even pretends to understand, but Dean feels the exact moment Sam shifts from fevered unconsciousness to deep, healing sleep. It may be the way his breath calms, or how his little brother ever so slightly returns the tight grip Dean has on his hand. His head rolls to the side towards Dean, face smoothing out in rest and slowly the redness fades from his skin and his hair dries.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Dean whispers. And he doesn't know if it's to Sam or too Chuck or anybody who's listening but he's so freaking thankful. He brushes a breath of a kiss onto Sam's knuckles before he jumps up and strips the wet towels off him. Gently covers him up with a sheet and changes out the soaked pillow under his brother's head for a dry one.

He draws the curtains extra tight keeping as much sunlight out as he can. Sighs as he looks over the dark room, hopes Sam will sleep peacefully through the afternoon. His stomach growls, reminding him he hasn't eaten since early last evening when Sam had more or less forced a sandwich down his throat.

He smiles fondly and shakes his head, "Be back." He whispers as he pads quietly from the room.

The first thing Dean finds is a bag of the veggie straws Sam's obsessed with, and he's cramming a handful into his mouth as he goes through the cabinets and fridge seeing for himself what Sam had bought them. He chuckles at the cans of tomato and rice soup, the Winchester fix all when either of them was sick. There's also two pies in bakery boxes on the counter beside the fridge and a box of Earl Grey tea, the only kind Dean will even think about drinking. Sam must have been worried while he was shopping.

He finds packets of cinnamon apple oatmeal and sends a 'you're the best little bro in the whole universe' up to Sam where he's sleeping in bed. He finds milk in the fridge and thanks their not so lucky stars there's a microwave in this ratty shack. He burns his tongue on his first bite, but god he's hungry…the hungriest he's been well, since all this went down.

With a warm full belly he heads back upstairs with a steaming mug of tea in hand and Sam's iPad. He'd be damned if he wasn't there when Sam woke up…but they'd both been entirely disconnected from the world for days, it was time for the Winchester's to start easing back into things.

He settles on his side of the bed and pulls the covers up over his legs, he's caught the chill of this old house. Dean sighs with relief as he relaxes back against the propped up pillows, his body still achey and stiff even on the inside.

He looks over to find Sam rolled over onto his side, knees curled up towards his stomach, hand under his head like he'd slept since he was a baby…Dean can't stop the contented smile from coming to his face, let it be insensitive to their loss and unappreciative the sacrifice of their mother and friend…his heart is full to the overflowing.

You're here.

…

Waking up is like trying to shove a mountain off his eyes. He wants to sleep forever, but the splash of warm light falling across his eyes and the sound of even, constant breaths are pulling him towards consciousness. The scent of Dean and maybe food surrounds him with a sense of safety and love and pretty soon he's fighting to get his heavy eyes open.

It's the soft, warm light of the late afternoon that's gentle on his still slightly achy head. And it's that same light giving Dean a glowing background, lighting his hair and giving him a halo. Casting sharp shadows on his jaw line and cheek bones, causing his eyes to sparkle a little. Dean would be pissed of he knew how pretty he looked right now, Sam thinks.

He feels a giggle rumble in his chest and scratch in his throat and Dean's eyes leap to his face, expression softening and a relieved smile gracing his features.

"Heya sleepy," he greets. "I'm guessing you feel better?" He says with a fond smirk twisting his smile.

Sam just grunts, nods his head in affirmative pressing his face back into his pillow and shutting his eyes again, content to just exist in this moment here with his brother in the quiet and peace. The silence is interrupted by his growling stomach and he cracks an eye open to look at Dean who's shaking with laughter.

"Don't go back to sleep yet." He says, mirth evident in his voice and Sam's insides melt with relief and joy at that happy tone. "Better get something into you before you get even sicker."

Sam groans as he sits, a hand on his forehead frowning as the rooms spins a little. "Not sick." He contradicts.

Dean snorts in his nose throwing Sam a pair of socks and sweat pants he fishes out of his bag, "That's not what the burning hot fever said."

"Ohh," Sam groans, falling back against the pillows again (ignoring the clothes Dean continues to throw at him, a t-shirt and hoodie) understanding now why he felt weak and drained.

"Yeah, so you sit tight, Imma get you something to eat." Dean levels him with his serious big brother glare, "Put those clothes on Sammy, you're gonna catch your death of cold in this house."

Sam sighs in exasperation as he does as told, Dean was always cold…and as a result he was always concerned Sam was too, but the younger Winchester was a heater constantly sweating it felt like. Right now Sam thinks Dean might have the right idea though, and he happily pulls on the pants and shirt along with the socks, throwing the hoodie to the floor.

He pulls the covers back up to his chest and closes his eyes. Allows himself to gather all his wits about him…to relax into the mattress and smell in the scent of he and Dean together…something he was used to…it was almost the smell of the bunker. Home.

He sighs and rolls over onto his side staring at the curtained window, the bunker wasn't much but it was theirs, you know? And he hated this place, he hated what it meant to them…he hated the shadow this place would always have over them.

He looks up as Dean enters the room with a steaming bowl in hand and Sam sighs with contentedness as he smells cinnamon apple; he and Dean's favorite oatmeal flavor since they were kids. He smiles up at Dean as he takes the spoon.

"Been too long."

Dean laughs at Sam's happy expression, "Be back," he promises heading back down the stairs.

He returns with napkins, a steaming mug and one of the pies Sam had bought. Sam takes one of the napkins, sets the bowl of oatmeal in his lap in favor of the mug of tea and smells in the steam greedily, the warmth wrapping around his face.

He arches a brow at Dean, who opens the pie up and simply starts in with his fork…

"I already ate." Dean goes ahead and assures him, "I've been waiting for you to wake up to eat again." He groans around the apple pie, sending a happy look to Sam, "You da best." He compliments through his full mouth.

Sam laughs, "Damn straight," he confirms, digging back into his oatmeal and he's pretty sure this is three or four packets instead of their usual two, but he knows without a doubt he can eat it all. Feels the uncomfortable gnawing in his stanch beginning to ease, making him slow, and warm and sleepy all over.

The silence stretches on between them, comfortable and familiar and healing. Dean simply smacking a little around each forkful of pie per usual, and Sam lying there following his gaze out the window, finding the little bit of sunset they can see. He reaches out with his spoon to steal some pie and of course Dean lets him, in fact moves his hand so the dish is between them.

Sam watches him, sees the calm and confidence back, the love and pain still there, still so sweetly aching…but it's shoved back into its box and the lid and the lock put on it is Sam. His smile, his puppy dog eyes, his safety…the selfless, unconditional love Dean has for him, devotion and loyalty that never forgot an order, a responsibility now turned into his motto, his lifestyle; take care of Sammy.

"De…let's go home," he says, holds his breath, wide and pleading eyes watching Dean's stiffening profile.

…tbc

Almost done I think guys…I feel more or less emotionally healed lol, or at least on the road to recovery. REVIEW!?;);):):)