A/N: Hi all! This chapter is longer than the others because I feel bad for what is probably going to happen over the next two weeks. My university likes to pile everything on at the very end of the semesters to see how many of their students they can force to complete insanity. Due to the wrap-up of classes and finals looming in the very very close distance, I am afraid I will be too busy cramming for my exams and finishing up these last projects to do much, if any updating, a fact I am very sad for and completely understand if the virtual tomatoes are thrown with gusto. That being said, I will try my best to at least get one chapter done over the next few weeks, but I make no guarantees. As soon as I am finished, though (and perhaps after I manage to grab more than a three hour nap) I will be back to regular, if not faster, updates.

Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Dean wasn't awake when Sam was let in a few hours later. That was to be expected though, and Sam fervently ignored the twist in his gut.

The ventilator was gone, a very promising sign that things were looking up for the elder Winchester. He was still pale as all hell, still covered head to toe in clean white bandages that mirrored the stark white of his skin, but the steady rise and fall of his chest and even beat of the monitor helped reassure Sam that his brother was alive.

The room was vacant otherwise. The Winchesters were at least fortunate in that regard; they tended to receive single rooms when they ended up in the hospital, better for them if they needed to discuss hunting details. Sam scoffed at that thought, that the only form of luck his family was bound to have was isolation in a hospital room.

He stood over his brother for a moment, hand reaching out to gently rest on Dean's shoulder. He received no response but thought, somehow, that it could help. Dean wasn't big on chick flick moments, and even less so for comfort when he was hurt, but Sam needed this more than Dean did and he knew that if his brother was conscious he wouldn't mind.

He took up residence in the seat beside his brother's bed. Big surprise, the damn thing was just as uncomfortable as the one in the waiting room. But, Dean was out like a light and Sam had no where else to go, no where else he wanted to go to. The guilt that had crushed him so brutally last night was still simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over again, and Sam was determined to not fall apart over it, but he needed to talk to Dean. He needed to apologize and beg for forgiveness for his stupidity, for not being there to help him. He needed to hear Dean's voice again, cracking a stupid joke over it and granting Sam the absolution he so desperately craved.

Until then, well, Sam was going to get really friendly with that chair.

"Hi Sam."

Sam started up, so focused on the steady tones of the heart monitor that he hadn't even noticed someone else had entered the room. He turned to find the same nurse who had spoken to him last night.

"Hi, uh, Marie, right?"

She nodded, a soft smile on her face. "Yup. Just wanted to check in."

Sam watched as she approached his brother, a sharp eye on his vital signs as she pulled down the sheet and ran her hand lightly over the bandage covering his side and chest. She gently pulled off the outer cover to examine the wound, and Sam cursed internally as he saw the long scar now adorning his brother's chest, filled with angry black stitches. Other marks caught his eye, ones he hadn't remembered to see until now, the slices from god knows what over his brother's ribs and stomach, irregular, some deep with stitches, others left to heal on their own. Soon to be more scars that marred his brother's body, a testament to the life he was forced into and took without a second thought, no matter the pain, no matter the losses. His gut lurched and he looked away in anger.

Marie glanced back at him. She kept her voice quiet, as if afraid to push. "He's looking good, Sam. No sign of infection, that's really good. And these will heal, in time. We've just got to keep a close eye on him for a while."

Sam sighed, weight resting heavily upon him again. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Any idea when he's waking up?"

"Well, he's out of the anesthesia but we've still got him on the good stuff. Odds are he'll be out until we dial them back, but we want to wait for a little while to let his body heal. There's no real telling when he'll be awake."

"Okay." Sam nodded, more to himself than to the nurse beside him. "Okay."

"The doctor might be in later to check up on him. Give us a call if you need anything, alright?"

Sam smiled at her, sincerely touched by her sweet manner and care. "Thank you. I really appreciate all of this."

"Of course. Take care, Sam, I'll be back soon."

The time passed with no change. Sam's ass was sore once again, and he could feel the familiar headache that comes with worrying one's self for hours start to echo behind his eyes. He paid it no mind.

He glanced down at his watch, surprised to see that once again night was beginning to fall. He hadn't slept or eaten in over a day, but he knew that he would grant himself the luxury of neither. Not a change in the world of him leaving his brother's bedside, not at least until Dean woke up and called him Samantha.

The doctor had assured him that Dean was doing as well as could be expected, but to Sam that wasn't good enough. He was terrified that he would step out of the room for just an instant and suddenly the alarms for a code would go off, or that he would nod off and wake up to find a body bag in the bed.

His once again morbid thoughts that started to flood his mind were abruptly dammed off when Marie came in again. He was starting to wonder how long her shift was; she'd been in and out all day, checking up on Dean and, he suspected, on him as well. He was very grateful for her, though; she was easy to talk to and very up front with him, offering compassion but truthful responses to his questions as well. He guessed she was good at reading him because she had managed to keep him from freaking out all day, a task he knew couldn't be easy since he could barely do it himself.

"Hey there."

"Hi, Marie."

She did her usual checkup, examining Dean's wounds and vitals, injecting a syringe into his IV port. She turned to Sam again, concern on her face.

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Uh, no, not yet. I'll grab something soon—"

"Yeah, I'm sure you will." She spoke with sarcasm, but not entirely unkindly; her eyes still had that soft compassion in them. "You know, nothing's going to happen if you step out for a second. We've got a close eye on Dean, he'll be alright. You don't need to wear yourself out with worry here."

He nodded, eyes focused on his brother. She'd hit the nail on the head. "I know, I just…I can't leave. This whole thing wouldn't have happened if I'd been around, and I wasn't, and now I just—I need to be here."

He surprised himself at the gravity, the truth behind those words. He hadn't expected to be so honest, but something about Marie's presence just made him open up. He supposed it was because she was the one he had seen the most since coming in here, and without Dean to talk to, he'd turned to her for the assurances he needed.

He hoped she wouldn't read all the text behind those statements.

She sighed, and leaned up against the wall to face Sam. "I know how terrifying it can be. You think that if you leave, even for an instant, somehow he'll be gone. But look, I've been with Dean since you brought him in. He fights, that's for sure. He fights like hell, and he's going to keep doing that. He's not going anywhere."

Sam smiled. The woman should be a carpenter for how well she was doing with those nails. "You're right, but I'm not going anywhere either. Not now."

She took him in for a moment, an odd look on her face. Then she smiled. "Alright. You want to go that way, I won't argue." And, without another word, she turned on her heel and left.

A look of puzzlement crossed Sam's face as he watched her leave. Well, that was abrupt. Before he could decide what to think, though, Marie returned, a surprising site to see. In one hand she held a plate with a sandwich; in the other, a pillow. She stopped Sam before he could get a word in.

"If you don't eat something I'm going to have to admit you, too. My shift is almost over and I really don't want to have to do that, so before you start complaining just think about that. Now chow down."

Sam was stunned speechless, and took the plate from her without a word. He held it idly in his hands for a moment, until she gave him the look, and he quickly broke off a piece of the sandwich, chewing and swallowing while she looked on.

"Good. Now, I want you to take this. I've been in that chair before, and I know that it's hell on the back. Here." She handed him the pillow.

Sam grabbed that in silence as well, he stuttered for a moment, before settling on a simple "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

He set the plate on the table before him looked down at his hands for a moment. "So, um, as far as those visiting hours for the ICU…"

"Don't worry about that. We're allowed to make exceptions for some patients. And since I figured I've got about as much of a chance of getting you out of this room as I do pushing a boulder up Mount Everest, I spoke to the doc earlier and you can stay the night if you'd like, no one will bother you about it. You should try to get some sleep, though, Sam."

He looked up, nothing but pure admiration and gratitude for the woman in front of him who seemed to have their entire situation handled perfectly. "I—I don't know what to say—"

She smiled at him. "You don't need to say anything. I've been around stuff like this for a while, I know the drill. Just keep an eye on Dean for me, okay? He's a real cutie, I'd like to see him back on his feet soon."

Sam let out a small laugh. "Don't let him hear you say that, his head would grow so big you'd need to do surgery on that just to get it back down to normal size."

She gave him another smile and turned to leave. "Good night, Sam."

Sam relaxed into the chair, pillow cushioning the sore muscles of his back, and leaned his head back, letting out a breath of air as he took up residence for the rest of the night.

He woke with a start, head jerking up from its cramped position on the back of the seat to snap forward. For a moment he was completely clueless, then took in the sight of his brother on the bed in front of him and relaxed back down with a sigh. Every muscle in his body protested the abuse it had been subjected to, from his cricked neck to his sore knees, but years of growing like a weed to gigantor heights had left Sam a master of the muscle ache and he steadfastly ignored it.

He glanced at his watch and was surprised to see that he had slept for over six hours, not a single nurse disturbing his slumber. He supposed he had Marie to thank for that and made a mental note to buy her a small house when all this was over.

He let out a deep breath, stretching his arms up above him.

And froze when he saw that Dean's eyes had opened.

Just slits, tiny lines opening up to reveal glazed green irises. They blinked a few times, not even trying to focus on anything around them, and fell closed again.

"Dean?"

Nothing. That was alright, though. Sam had seen what he had needed to. There was no mistaking those eyes, even drugged to the gills: Dean sure as hell was in there. His brother was still here, still alive, coming back to the world of the living.

Sam could breathe a little more freely again.

I tried to leave with no real cliffhanger. I'm not that cruel :)