Really long time, no see, guys. And I'm really sorry about that. Real life kinda caught up with me. Thanks to the anonymous guest reviewer about a day or two ago who finally pushed me into updating! So here's two whole chapters (I hope everyone remembers what was happening...)


"Dean is not conscious, and we do not honestly know when he will be awake. That is up to him, Mr. Winchester."

"Dean's a fighter." Quite literally, he thought. "So is Sam. He'll be fine." John mumbled. "He'll be fine."

BROKEN RIDGE, 1995

John Winchester spent a majority of the next couple days alternating between sitting at Sam's bedside and Dean's. The doctor and nurses wouldn't hear of disrupting either patient just to have the two housed in the same room.

John had told them how the boys would react if they woke up without the other by their side. No one would listen. Instead they just sent him waves of sympathy.

"Did you hear about that man over there?" They would say. "Winchester. Did you hear about his children?"

The nurses whispered and gossiped. "The madmen got to his children." They would say. And John couldn't take much more of the whispering.

So Caleb was a trooper, taking up position by whichever boy wasn't currently being visited by the elder hunter.

The scans had shown that there was about a fifty fifty chance Sam wouldn't have permanent hearing loss. It depended on how fast he kicked this fever's ass, and how he felt when he woke up.

Not to say John hadn't seen him wake up a few times. He was disoriented, always looking fear stricken, only aware enough to gaze up at John for a few seconds before tiredly letting his eyes slip shut again.

Dean wasn't doing so good himself. Still unconscious, the doctor was beginning to murmur about the heightened risks the longer the concussed boy wasn't woken up.

But currently, John sat next to Sam. His son was a collage of bandages, from the wrappings around his neck to the casted leg. John rubbed his thumb across Sam's palm as he watched him.

"You know..." John said tiredly. "When Mary was pregnant with you... Dean was really excited. Said he didn't care whether you were a boy or a girl, on one condition..." John chuckled at the memory, the steady beep of the heart monitor filling the silence.

"He said... he just wanted to make sure we got him a little brother or sister. He didn't want no big bro tellin' him what to do." John brushed Sam's hair from his eyes. "That was s'posed to be his job."

Sam's eyes cracked slightly and he looked up at John.

"Hey, buddy, you with me this time?" Sam smacked his dry lips in response and stared at John with a worried expression. One bandaged hand reached up shakily to touch his ear. John was about to reassure Sam as best he could when he heard a commotion down the hall. "Caleb!" He called, watching two nurses run towards the direction of Dean's room.

John burst out of the chair and ran into the hall. He squeezed past a man with a gurney and almost toppled one nurse as he turned the corner.

"DEAN!" He shouted, spotting Caleb in the hallway. He skidded up and burst through the door.

BROKEN RIDGE, 2007

Dean woke groggily to a dark, empty room, save a shadowy form on the opposite bed. He sat up and ran his hand through his hair with a yawn. He felt... Okay... Better than yesterday, at least. Sitting up made his ribs scream in protest, but he made his way over to Sam anyway.

His brother was curled on his side, facing Dean's bed, his brow crinkled in discontent even in sleep. Dean sighed, but figured he should wake him up and give him some meds, maybe take some himself, too.

He shook Sam's shoulder gently, not expecting his brother's reaction; Sam yelped, sat up and punched Dean in the shoulder before falling off the bed and practically into his brother's lap.

Dean groaned and gripped his shoulder with gritted teeth, the knife wound still fresh, though everything seemed to be healing.

Sam signed a sloppy sorry, bent double in pain from his collision with the dirty motel room floor.

"S'okay." Dean muttered, even though Sam couldn't see him.

He sat up and rolled his shoulder a few times with a slight wince before helping Sam into a sitting position as well.

He placed his hand on Sam's forehead. Bed. He signed. You're burning up.

Sam grumbled and took Dean's hand to half stand and roll back onto the bed, accepting the pills and glass of water.

Where's Bobby? He signed.

Dean froze mid action of tucking Sam in. "That's a good question." He said. "I'll figure it out."

Sam nodded and turned back onto his good side, pillow wrenched under his head and sheets pulled up to his shoulders. Within minutes his breath had evened out.

Dean clicked his tongue and tried to remind himself that Sam was twenty-four, not four, even if he looked it sometimes.

He swallowed a couple pills himself before dialing Bobby's number. There was no answer. So he tried not to worry, and instead focused on trying to figure out what to do about Sam's ears.

He could take Sam to a specialist, but he didn't know how much that would cost. He was willing to pay anything, though.

At that moment, the doorknob shook as someone tried to get in. He heard the jingling of keys, but without a peephole, Dean had no way of knowing who it was until he opened the door.

The man stood in a nice dress suit, slicked back hair, and a coat. Dean looked at him incredulously. "Bobby?"

BROKEN RIDGE, 1995

John skidded to a halt in panic, only to see a young nurse completing a check up, the room still and calm, though he heard commotion a few doors down.

Dean lay just as still as ever. "He's doing okay, Mr. Winchester. His vitals are fine. He just needs to wake up!" She added a little too loudly and a little too cheerfully, patting Dean's limp shoulder as she brushed past the flustered father.

"What was that, John?"

"I thought... Dean was... in trouble..." John panted.

"You were with Sam?"

"Yes... he... Sam!... He must be worried! He was awake!"

"I've got it, John." Caleb said, knowing that John would want to stay with Dean after the scare.

He returned to Sam's room to see a nurse trying to calm Sam down, the boy in tears.

"Sam?" He said. He didn't think he'd ever seen the boy cry before.

The nurse pointed Sam towards Caleb. She gave him a quick hug, checked his wires, and handed Caleb a whiteboard as she left.

"Until he learns more, this should help," She told him, pressing a marker into his free hand.

Caleb nodded and sat down next to Sam. You know Dean's fine Caleb wrote. He'll be fine

Sam held out his hand for the board. He took it and used his sheets to clean it off.

Then why was Dad running?

Your dad was scared Dean wasn't fine But he was

He flipped the board around and Sam nodded.

I can't hear you He wrote. The nurse says I won't

Not now Caleb scribbled back. They really needed two white boards. The back and forth was time consuming.

Ever? Sam wrote.

We don't know for sure The doctors haven't done all the tests they can There's a chance it will heal and a chance it won't

Sam read the board and nodded, wiping under his eyes. Do I look like I was crying? He asked.

Caleb wanted to say that it was okay to cry. Even men cried. And with what Sam went through it was a miracle he hadn't done so yet. He carried a weight on his shoulders like no child should, especially now looking so broken in his hospital bed.

Instead, he just shook his head.

**********

Sam was sick of the emptiness. He felt pain all over but he was too tired to use the white board and let someone know and too embarrassed to use his voice.

They said he had "perforated ear drums" and "conductive hearing loss." It was most likely temporary, but how long temporary was, no one knew. He had surgery in two days that would hopefully speed things up.

He curled up on his side and stared out the narrow window. It was lonely in here without Dean.

No one would tell him how Dean was doing, just "better." If Dean was doing better, why wasn't Sam allowed to go see him?

"Because Dean's getting better but Sam's getting worse." The nurses said.

Sam didn't necessarily disagree, he just didn't really care anymore. He didn't eat much. Dean wasn't eating, why should he? The last thing Sam had ever heard was Dean screaming. It still rang through his ears and haunted him in his sleep.

John usually came in and tried to calm him down. He was allowed to stay overnight because Dean wasn't awake. If Dean wasn't sleeping so much, Sam was pretty sure Dad wouldn't be allowed to stay the night.

Sam was indifferent to everything. He hadn't touched the whiteboard since it was given to Caleb that one day, and later it still sat with whatever note was left to him last, depending on the time of day.

That night when he woke up, most likely screaming, John quickly erased Please eat some dinner Sam to scrawl a plead for Sam to tell him what the nightmares were about.

Sam couldn't look at his dad's eyes. He turned and stared out the window again with dull, blank eyes. He wasn't even tired anymore. Just broken.

BROKEN RIDGE, 2007

"Bobby?"

"You gonna let me in or gawk, boy?"

Dean stuttered and moved to let the older hunter through.

"Where were you?" Dean asked.

"Talking to the police about that night. You guys look better, as expected. The Recurrants might not be dead, but they're weakened. You'll be feeling a little better. How's Sam?"

"Still deaf. Woke up for a bit. Convinced him to take some drugs and go back to sleep but... Bobby, what happened last night?"

"You two weren't getting any better. Worse, in fact. After the ghost came in, I realized we had no time to lose."

"And you dressed like a cheap lawyer because..."

"They won't let just anyone in there. Besides, you should have seen yourselves last night. It was terrible. Thank god burning the bones started to take effect or I would've raced you two to the hospital." He eyed Dean and dared him to protest. "Delinquents or not. How are you, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "Not gettin' worse. You don't think Sam's deafness will heal?"

It was Bobby's turn to shrug. "I mean, it's not like your wounds are healing per say. Just like you said- they're just... not getting worse."

Dean nodded gravely, glancing at his sleeping brother, body twisted between the sheets. "Damn, Bobby, I want him to be okay."

He looked back at his old friend. "He's taking it better than last time."

Bobby raised his eyebrows.

"It's not easy to suddenly lose one of your senses." Dean said. "I just wanted to take his spot... still do."

BROKEN RIDGE, 1995

Sam was wheeled out for surgery two days later in mid afternoon.

"How long did you say it would take?"

"About one and a half or two hours, since we don't need to make an incision." Said Dr. Homes, Sam's new doctor. "We'll put Sam under general anesthesia. He won't feel a thing."

John nodded, not letting go of his son's hand until he was pulled through the double doors, leaving John tired, scared, and unshaved in the waiting room.

**********

"He won't speak. Won't write on the board. Barely sleeps. He won't eat..." The list went on and on as John expressed his concerns to the doctor. "Every day, Sam gets worse."

Dr. Homes nodded. "We can put him on some simple anti-depressants, if everyone is comfortable with that. Something that won't mess with his other medications. It doesn't help him heal to not get proper nourishment."

John nodded his thanks and downed his last sips of hospital coffee. It had been a day since the surgery, and Sam had come out fine, with the promise of at least some hearing returned, though no doctor, surgeon, or specialist would tell him whether that recovery would happen in weeks, months, or years.

John nudged Sam, who must be faking sleep because his breathing was deliberately even. Sam turned and glowered at him with anger in his eyes.

John held up the whiteboard: We're going to put you on antidepressants Sam

Sam shook his head.

You're depressed I know it, I can tell kiddo

Sam shook his head.

Why? I told you Dean'll be okay A thought struck John that filled him with such fear he felt he might throw up. He shakily erased the board with his sleeve. Sam, you were found in your underwear. Do you remember anything
He couldn't even finish the sentence but he held it up and watched Sam's eyes widen in horror.

He held his hand out in annoyance for the board and marker, which John handed over willingly. Sam was making contact and though John was worried of his son's response, seeing him make conversation was a step up.

I don't remember why I was in my underwear. He wrote in neat handwriting. But don't you think they'd checked when a twelve-year-old is brought in in his boxers whether he'd been friggin raped? Sam sloppily wiped a tear out of the way. I just want Dean to be okay. He needs to be okay.

With that, he turned on his side and sighed in utter annoyance at his father.

They started him on antidepressants that night.

BROKEN RIDGE, 2007

It was eerily quiet when Sam Winchester woke up, which confused him, because when is a motel ever completely quiet?

It took him a moment to remember. Then it all crashed down. He gave a ragged sigh and ran a hand through his hair, flipping back the covers.

He was halfway to the bathroom when he started, realizing Bobby was sitting at the table with a laptop.

"Hi." He said.

"Hi." Bobby replied.

"Dean?" Sam tended to keep his sentences as short as possible, though he was sure he sounded more normal than he would have ten years ago.

"He went out to get breakfast." Bobby told him slowly.

Sam nodded.

"Hey..." Bobby cleared his throat. "How are you?"

"Good."

"No really, Sam. Emotionally."

"Good."

"I'm not going to get a long answer out of you am I?"

Sam smiled. "No."

"Okay."

Sam nodded and grabbed his towel, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Sam stripped, taking a moment to wince at the bruises and scrapes that riddled his body. His ears were still black and blue, and he thanked God his hair covered them fairly well.

He started the shower and stepped in, even though the water was scalding and kind of burned his back.

He closed his eyes, focusing on smell alone, a mixture of peach and lavender soap and Dean's aftershave, because he always left the damn cap off and that stuff smelled.

By the time Sam dried off and got dressed, Dean had gotten back, and Sam opened the bathroom door to see his brother stuffing his mouth with some sort of breakfast sandwich while Bobby looked on in disgust.

"Sam!" Dean said with a full mouth. "Hey!" He finished his bite and set the sandwich down, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"How are you?"

"Good." Sam said.

"Yeah, Bobby said that's all you'd say. How are you really?"

Sam stuttered the beginning to a sentence before looking down at his hands.

"Go ahead." Dean nodded.

Sam signed, the moves surprisingly fluid after years of dormancy.

My head hurts really bad, near my ears. My ankle mostly. I can't really walk. Also my nose.

And this is saying something, Sammy. You don't usually tell me these things so easily.

Sam shrugged.

We'll take you to get fixed up.

He smiled. You think Bobby is wondering what we're saying?

Then it what Dean's turn to smile. Probably. Wondering if we even remember if he's here.

"You know I'm sitting right here." Bobby growled. Dean laughed wholeheartedly. He nodded at Sam, who ended up laughing too, quieter, but still there. Bobby looked confused.

"Get off that foot." Dean said aloud. Sam rolled his eyes but did as he was told while Dean sat and spoke to Bobby.

"What're you boys up to?" Bobby asked suspiciously, pushing his eggs around his plate.

"I'm gonna take Sam to the clinic this morning. Get him checked out."

"You mean I'm taking you two to the clinic."

"No, Bobby, I can drive."

"No chances. We'll leave in ten. Ellen called and gave me the address." Sam grunted and they both looked over at him, attempting to tie his boots.

Dean let the argument go and sat opposite Sam.

"What's wrong?" He nodded towards Sam's foot.

Can't get my shoe on. Foot's swollen.

"It doesn't matter. Go barefoot." Dean suggested. Sam sighed. He did a lot of that lately, the sighing. He couldn't help it.

Sam realized if this couldn't get fixed, he would be nothing but a disadvantage to Dean. Again. How could he watch Dean's back if he couldn't even hear the monster approaching? How was he supposed to rescue Dean from the hellhounds?


Second chapter up in minutes! Thanks for anyone who stuck with this after that break. I really appreciate it. Thank you guys so much!