Previously On Supernatural Ambush
"Hey kiddo. Deciding to try the world on the other side of your eyelids for a change? It's not so bad, give it a shot."
Sam swallowed and dropped his gaze. He wasn't really sure he wanted to be on the other side or on any side of life, for that matter. His body was exhausted from all he had just suffered, too fragile from his seven week drugged 'hibernation' as Dean had called it to be of any use to him, and his mind just wasn't sure it could deal with what lay ahead…today, tomorrow, or any day in the future. Sam closed his eyes as the sting of tears threatening to be released prickled in the corners . Slowly, without his consent, they began to fall.
Dean, seeing his brother suffering in a way he wasn't able to easily fix, moved in and put his arm on his little brother's shoulder.
"I know. I know. Let it go, Sam," Dean whispered as he let it go along with him.
Chapter 14
The morning sun began to make its way across the motel floor casting light on what appeared to be debris from a tornado that had recently ravaged the place. There were blankets on the floor, discarded glasses and newspaper pages strewn around the room, bags of food next to the table, and wrappers and medical supplies spread out on various surfaces. Three bodies lay sprawled out as well. Had it not been for the steady rise and fall of their sleeping chests, one might have assumed they were victims of the storm that had recently blown through.
Dean was the first to arise from the debris and he instinctively looked for Sam. His recovering sibling lay peacefully sleeping on the bed beside him. His brother's breathing was steady, his face relaxed, his body still, not trembling steadily as it had been earlier. His face was pale, dark circles under his eyes offered a painful reminder that the kid had recently been through hell.
Dean checked Sam's IV and was pleased to see Bobby had changed it in the night. He gently put his fingers to Sammy's wrist to monitor his pulse. His sibling stirred slightly with his touch, but didn't awaken. Dean felt the steady thumping beneath his digits and timed them to his watch. Sam's heartbeat was slow, but steady, well within the appropriate range for a healthy person who was sleeping. Dean sighed and nodded. It was the first time he had been able to catch a glimpse of hope that they were gonna make it.
He began thinking of what would be next on his brother's path to recovery. When Sam woke up, he'd need to clean him up, put some fresh clothes on the kid and get him to eat some food. It was an important and essential step for his brother to be able to digest solid food so that he could remain with him and not have to be hospitalized.
Even with his enthusiasm for his brother's recovery from his chemical dependency and withdrawal, Dean couldn't help but wonder how Sam's internal withdrawal was going after seeing his brother break down the night before. The kid was clearly suffering from all he had been through and had a lot to work out in his head and heart. Sam was a survivor, of that Dean was sure, having seen his brother rise up from the ashes of Jessica's death and their dad's, but, with all Sam had suffered, he couldn't help but wonder if his little brother might have reached his breaking point.
Dean glanced over to Bobby who lie sleeping, weapon in hand, in the chair beside Sam. It was obvious he had been up all night checking the perimeter for the sharpshooter and watching over Sam. The guy looked beat and Dean decided to let him rest.
Gliding over to the window, Dean pulled back the wispy curtain and did a visual check of the parking lot and the woods behind the motel. Things were pretty quiet for (Dean glanced at his watch) eight thirty in the morning and it made it easier for him to check for any unusual activity.
Finding nothing in particular to focus on, he began rummaging through the half empty grocery bags and pulled out an apple. He glanced annoyingly over to Bobby who lay snoring up a storm. He definitely needed to do the next grocery run. An apple for breakfast was just way too healthy for his taste. He preferred left over, cold pizza actually. He was hungry enough that he considered trying a jar of baby food, but upon studying its contents, he quickly lost his appetite.
Sam stirred. He moved his hands up to his face, rubbed his eyes, paused them there, and took a deep breath.
Dean heard him sigh, and moved over, positioning himself on the bed beside brother.
Sam felt the movement of the bed, swept his hands down his cheeks and looked over in his brother's direction.
"Hey," Dean offered once their eyes met. He searched his little brother's eyes for tears.
"Hey," Sam echoed softly moving his eyes from his brother's gaze and landing them on the bed covers by his hands.
Dean detected his brother's despondency.
Normally, he would have let it go. When Sam got moody, the best thing to do was let the kid withdraw a bit and work things out in his mind. Then, when he was ready, Sam would initiate a conversation to run his thoughts past Dean. It was almost an unwritten rule, a pattern the boys had gotten into that worked well for the both of them. But this time, seeing Sam withdraw was just too painful for Dean and he didn't want his little brother alone in his head. After all he'd been through, he wasn't sure it was a safe place for his sibling to be lurking alone.
"So, uh, how ya doin?" Dean asked daring to change their patterns of communication.
"Okay," Sam uttered unenthusiastically.
Dean hesitated, recognizing his brother's unrevealing response to be a sign the kid wanted to submerge and run silent for a while. After a moment, he decided to press on anyways.
"Okay, as in really okay? Or Okay as in 'Lay off, Dean and leave me alone', okay."
Sam's lips curled slightly up in the corners. "Does it really matter? Cuz if it is the 'Leave me alone' okay, are you actually going to do it?"
Dean looked up pretending to give it some consideration. "Ah….. no."
Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he wanted Dean to leave him alone. Fact was, he just wanted life to leave him alone and take all its evil, its demons and hunters, vampires and ghosts, pain and destiny with it. He felt hollow inside, unable to deal with any of it.
"So now that we've gotten that out of the way, what's on your mind?" Dean pressed on.
Sam cocked his head and fiddled with his blanket running his finger along the ridges of the fabric.
"Guess that's just it," he said with soft, sad eyes. "There's just nothing on my mind." He looked over to Dean for some sort of understanding.
Dean sat silently waiting for Sam to clarify.
"S'like I'm here, but I'm not. You know? Like I'm empty….. inside."
Sam looked back down to the blanket and started fiddling again. His eyes began to tear up.
Dean nodded his head. "You know, I remember feeling that way, before, when mom died. I hurt so bad inside, felt so alone and scared. My whole world fell apart in one night and I couldn't do anything to put it back together. Sometimes I felt powerless and hopeless and sometimes I just felt empty."
Sam eyes met Dean's and he literally felt his brother's pain, the pain of being the victim of a horrible experience, of being alone and scared and feeling like your world had fallen apart and there was nothing you could do to fix it, and the pain of emptiness.
A tear rolled slowly down Sam's cheek. He hurt for his brother and he hurt himself.
The agony of being cruelly beaten by Jake and the other hunters, as they spewed condemning words of his collaboration with the demon, flooded his mind. He could still hear Jake's voice in his head as he mocked and toyed with him. His taunting words were so painful to hear over and over in his mind. Jess's death…all his fault….demon soldier…killed the baby…..evil….kill him!
He could physically feel pain in his body even now as he recalled the unbearable torture. First the beatings, then the crushing of his ribs and the excruciating pain of his lungs being stabbed over and over with each inhale and exhale of breath, the feeling of suffocating, the ice cold searing pain of a bullet cutting through the flesh of his thigh and then his shoulder, Dean's voice crying for him to hang on when it was simply too painful to do so.
But the worst of it all was watching Dean get beaten mercilessly because of him, his curse. He knew Jake was bent on killing his 'demon soldier' when he fired the weapon into his leg, but what horrified him was that he was going to be taking his brother with him to the grave. Because of his abilities, his brother and best friend was going to be murdered. It tore his soul in two and he remembered cursing his existence and something inside of him shattering.
Then what seemed like moments later, he awoke to discover he and his brother had managed to survive. Seven weeks had passed and their bodies were healing. The hunters had failed.
It was only as he lay, helpless in the hospital bed just prior to his escape that he came to realize that, though they hadn't succeeded in taking his life nor his brother's, they had succeed in taking something from him that stitches and time couldn't heal.
It wasn't something as simple as his sense of safety or his pride or even his sense of physical wellbeing, all of which could be recovered with a little work. No, somewhere, in the midst of all the torment when Sam felt his soul tearing and himself shattering on the inside, they had taken his sense of self. In order to survive all that had happened, he had so disconnected himself from who he was and what was happening around him, he had lost himself completely.
Now, unable to find the core of who he was, where his self worth, his passion for life, his resolve, his reason for being, his purpose and hope, all his humanity lay, he felt empty, almost soulless. He found himself questioning his identity, his worth, his right to live, his reason to go on, and he lacked the emotional energy to even know if he cared.
Dean watched a tear drop.
"So, what did you do? How did you….." Sam paused not sure how to say it.
"Get by?" Dean filled in.
Sam nodded.
"I didn't at first. I didn't really have anyone to turn to. Dad was destroyed and barely able to handle his own pain, definitely not able to handle mine. So I disconnected. I hid, Sammy, deep inside myself where I couldn't feel anything and nothing could ever touch or hurt me again."
Sam looked sadly at Dean. "I'm sorry, Dean. I can't imagine…."
"But you know what pulled me out?" Dean interrupted not wanting to linger on his own pain, but focus on his brother's and helping him. "What reached inside and made me feel again, gave me hope and a purpose?"
Sam shook his head.
"You. You did that for me, Sammy. You were all needy and helpless and Dad was too lost in his own despair to take care of you. I found my reason for living ….in you."
Sam looked deep into Dean's eyes as they teared, searching back and forth between them. His eyes teared along with his big brother's. "I didn't know…." Sam whispered.
Dean nodded. "You got to find a reason for living, kiddo. When you find that, the emptiness will take care of itself. Now, I'm not saying I'm a reason for you to live, but I am saying you don't have to go it alone, to hide deep inside yourself and feel nothing until you find it like I did. We can face this mess together, you and me. I can help you find your purpose, your reason to go on. And I'm not talking going on as in surviving, either Sammy. We did surviving the past seven weeks. I'm talking living, Sam, finding your reason for living."
Sam whispered a relieved laugh and wiped his tears from his face. Dean had given him something to hold on to and something to believe in. He'd offered himself to hold on to and the hope that he would find a reason to live again and the emptiness would pass. His brother had reached down into his empty world and offered his hand. Dean was willing to pull him up, to walk with him, to help him find his way back. Sam didn't need to know his purpose or even have the reason for living figured out right now. All he needed to do was grasp his brother's hand, hold tight, and hope.
Dean extended his hand, palm open and up, in Sam's direction.
Sam reached out, grabbed his brother's wrist and wrapped his fingers around it. His wrist lay in his brother's open hand.
Dean grasped Sam's wrist tightly and nodded back at his little brother with a smile.
Dean knew it wasn't over for Sam. He'd been through way too much to expect an easy fix. The kid, just like himself, would probably have several layers of trauma to work through and it would take a long time to get through them, with lots of tears and pain along the way. But, it was good to know Sam had trusted him with the first, hope, and he was encouraged the rest would follow as well.
Sam smiled appreciatively at Dean.
"You want something to eat or drink, Sammy?" Dean questioned releasing his grasp, feeling unworthy of his brother's appreciation.
"Naw" Sam sighed and he began trying to right himself in bed.
Dean immediately placed his hands behind his back and attempted to lift him. Once sitting, Dean fluffed up the pillow behind him, grabbed the second one, and piled the two together. He helped Sam scoot back and lean against them.
"Thanks," Sam politely offered.
Dean nodded.
"For everything, I mean," Sam clarified wanting to be sure Dean understood it wasn't just a thanks for the pillow.
Dean smiled. "All in the job description, little brother."
"Somehow, I don't think raising your little brother from the dead is mentioned, even in the fine print," Sam tossed back.
Dean got up and moved to the window to do a check.
Sam glanced over to Bobby, whose slumped, sleeping body lay completely unaware in the chair near him. "S'he okay?"
"Yeah. I think we wore the guy out," Dean explained sympathetically.
Sam smiled. "Musta been you. I've been in bed this whole time."
Dean smiled, glad to see Sam lightening a bit, having his sense of humor. Humor doesn't come from emptiness. His little brother had grabbed hold and was daring to feel again.
Bobby suddenly stirred as if on cue. He snorted a bit and scratched his scruff, but eventually managed to open his eyes and straighten up a bit in his chair. He was surprised to find the two Winchester boys staring at him with goofy smiles on their faces.
"What are you boys staring at?" he gruffed.
Sam rolled his eyes, knowing full well what was soon to be coming from his sarcastic brother's mouth and feeling sorry the hunter had left the door wide open for him.
"Believe me, nothing much!" Dean quipped with a laugh.
Bobby groaned and then turned to Sam. "Hey, son, how are you feelin'?"
Dean looked at Sam curious to see his response.
Sam nodded his head. "Okay," he stated more determinedly.
Dean was tempted to ask his little brother which 'okay' it was, but his brother's corrective look told him not to go there.
"Said he's okay," Dean echoed back to Bobby feeling the need to hear it again himself.
"I'm tired, not deaf, Dean," the hunter grumbled out.
"You're grouchy is what you are," Dean commented back.
"See if I ever join you girls for a slumber party again," Bobby wisecracked.
Inside, the older hunter knew he wouldn't have missed helping the boys through this for the world, but open warm communication just wasn't his style.
Knowing full well what Bobby had done for them, the boys smiled appreciatively. Both felt grateful to the guy, but it was Sam who moved his mouth to speak up.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Ya love me," he interjected with a toothy smile before Sam had a chance to get a word out. He, like Dean, was not one to give or receive affection easily. He loved the boys and they loved him and that was that, nothing needed to be said.
Sam on the other hand, was the opposite. He was usually the one who expressed affection and appreciation, but, wanting to honor his friend's wishes, he compromised with a thank you.
Dean looked eagerly over to Bobby, not wanting to miss the old hunter squirm under the acknowledgement.
Bobby, knowing about Sam's expressiveness, bowed his head slightly and received his acknowledgement. Then he quickly made a move to focus attentions elsewhere, specifically on the smirking young hunter before him.
"How's the shoulder, Dean?" Bobby questioned, already anticipating his usual brush off.
"Fine," Dean answered with a deer in the headlights look having wondered how the heck the attention had suddenly swung in his direction. He had no intention of letting Bobby focus on his health.
Bobby stood up and moved over to the young hunter to take a look.
"I'm fine. Really," Dean repeated telling the elder hunter not to bother pursuing his concern.
Sam studied his brother's face. "Dean, please, just let him take a look, alright?"
Dean would have refuted, but something in his brother's voice wouldn't let him. It was a deep seated concern laced with worry and fear. The kid had just been through hell and didn't need to worry about anything else.
Bobby stood near Dean and waited for his decision. Dean glanced down at Sam and his beckoning eyes.
Dean frowned. "Yeah, alright."
Bobby moved in.
After thoroughly examining the wound and the surrounding tissues, Bobby smiled.
Dean's shoulder was fairing pretty well. The fever that had been raging through his body and the redness indicative of infection around his wound were both gone. Even though the antibiotics and additional rest last night had been extremely helpful to the young man as he began his recovery, Bobby knew it was Sam's recovery that had turned the corner for the eldest Winchester.
He quickly reached up to check Dean's forehead for fever, not expecting to find one, but trying to be thorough.
Dean balked, but when he looked at Sam's concerned and waiting eyes, he sighed and moved his head into Bobby's hand.
"Okay, Grandma? Are we good?"
"It's Dr. Grandma to you!" Bobby grumbled back.
"Well?" Sam whispered wanting to know if his brother was okay.
"He's good, Sam…..well, as good as Dean could ever be, that is," he quipped sarcastically winking at Sam.
"Alright ladies, are we finished here, huh?" Dean heckled growing uncomfortable with all the attention he was receiving.
"Ah, Dean, I uh….." Sam paused seemingly hesitant to continue.
Dean looked over at his brother with a 'what' expression.
Sam gestured with his head towards the bathroom.
"Oh, right," Dean acknowledged as he walked over to his brother and helped him rise. The two struggled as if in a three legged race, but eventually managed to make it.
Sam insisted on having Dean wait outside this time, which was a good sign, Dean figured, that his brother was either feeling better or at least feeling self-conscious which would be a good sign the kid was no longer empty, but starting to feel a sense of pride coming back.
It was hard, but the elder brother allowed Sam to give it a try.
The kid was in the bathroom way longer than Dean would have liked. Dean listened intently on the opposite side of the door to be sure his little brother was alright.
At first he heard quiet resolve on his brother's part to be successful. A few gasped escaped his brother's mouth, obviously from his injuries that were still inflicting pain. After a few minutes, the kid started swearing and Dean became nervous. And soon, the room grew quiet.
"Sammy? You okay in there?" Dean questioned calmly.
Sam did not respond.
"Sam?"
Dean pressed his ear against the door, but couldn't hear anything.
"C'mon man, are you okay?" Dean questioned a bit more nervously as he glanced over at Bobby with concern in his eyes.
Bobby rose to his feet and began moving towards Dean.
"I'm coming in, alright?"
He paused giving his brother one last chance to answer before he invaded his privacy.
Dean reached for the knob and turned the handle and carefully opened the door not wanting to knock his brother to the floor if he were on the opposite side.
Bobby waited back, not wanting to embarrass Sam if he were not decent.
To Dean's dismay, his brother sat literally in a crumpled heap on the linoleum floor, fully dressed, and utterly exhausted, unable to speak let alone move. His arms lay loosely at his sides, is head rested back against the edge of the tub. His injured leg was folded painfully beneath him, his good one straight out in front.
"God, Sammy," Dean whispered as he crouched down to check his brother out.
The stricken hunter's eyes moved sluggishly towards his brother's voice.
"Hey, kiddo," Dean whispered as he checked over his brother's body for injuries trying to determine if he had passed out and fallen or simply sunk to the floor. He found no lumps or marks of any kind to indicate he was in any way harmed.
Sam fixed his eyes on Dean.
"Sammy, you hear me?" Dean questioned placing his face directly over his brothers. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Huh? What happened?"
"Fell," Sam whispered breathlessly.
"Are you hurt?" Dean questioned worriedly.
Sam nodded slowly.
"Where, Sammy, where?"
"Leg," Sam whispered again.
Dean nodded.
"Bobby, help me out in here, okay?"
Bobby immediately stepped in the small bathroom to assist.
"Watch his leg," Dean warned the man as he struggled in the small confines of the room to navigate into a position to be helpful.
A tremor suddenly passed through Sam and he shivered and tensed.
Dean checked his brother's pulse and was surprised to see it was actually quite fast for just sitting on the floor. His brother's skin was sweaty and a second tremor shivered through him. It was obvious Sam was suffering a post addictive seizure of some kind.
"You're gonna be okay, Sammy. We're gonna get you up and back to bed. You just lie still and let us do the work, alright?"
Sam nodded again as a third tremor passed through him.
"Sorry, Sammy. Easy, just try to relax," Dean uttered compassionately to his trembling brother.
"Bobby, I need you to lift him up enough that I can straighten his leg," Dean directed.
Bobby obliged by crawling in the tub and slipping his hands under Sam's arms and around his chest and then gently lifted up holding the boy close to his chest. Sam trembled in his arms.
Dean, as gently and as quickly as he could, straightened Sam's leg, grabbed hold of both knees, and lifted. Sam winced in pain from the movements.
"Let's go," Dean directed, eager to get to the bed quickly to prevent his brother from suffering any more pain.
"You're gonna be okay, Sammy. Just hold on. We're almost there."
Dean encouraged Sam the rest of the way to the bed where he and Bobby carefully lowered him. The two hunters began assessing his condition again. Dean checked his pulse. Bobby checked his pupils, concerned by Sam's position on the tub, that he may have hit his head.
"Well?" Dean questioned Bobby nervously.
"Looks good. Pulse?"
" Fast, but okay."
Sam began to fall asleep.
"Sammy? Hey! Stay with me for another minute okay? Huh?" Dean called out.
Sam opened his eyes and looked at his brother.
"Are you hurting anywhere?"
Sam closed his eyes and barely shook his head no, before falling asleep.
Dean cursed himself for being stupid enough to let Sam's blossoming pride cloud his judgment. Sure he wanted his brother to feel something, anything rather than emptiness, but this was not going to help the kid find his way back to himself. Damn it! He had forgotten that withdrawal symptoms can linger for a week or more beyond the peak. His brother had just suffered one of probably many relapses yet to come and he should have been more careful with him.
Bobby rose and put his hand on Dean's shoulder, knowing full well the young man was blaming himself for Sam's collapse and 'failure'.
"You had to let him try, son. There are gonna be a lot of successes and failures over the next few weeks, but if you don't let him try, he'll lose his will power."
The words were kind and true, but Dean could not receive them.
Bobby shook his head and settled back down in the chair.
oooOOOooo
Several hours later, Sam jerked awake when another residual tremor suddenly worked its way through his body, once again bringing back the painful reality of his 'failure' only a few hours before.
Sam didn't wince, but it was painful for Dean to watch, none the less, because Sam just took it, without complaint, as if he somehow deserved it or maybe even welcomed it. That troubled the elder sibling. His brother's countenance had dramatically changed.
"Want another blanket?" Dean asked as he pulled the covers up over his brother's sitting form feeling the need to offer comfort to his seemingly irritated sibling.
Sam shook his head almost defiantly.
"How 'bout something to eat?" Dean questioned knowing his brother needed to eat and hoping a little food might help lift his spirits.
"No," Sam adamantly stated.
"Look, Sammy, ya gotta eat something. Get back your strength, kiddo, so you can get better," Dean pressed.
Sam looked down. Another residual tremor shivered through him.
"Sam?" Dean questioned worriedly when his brother didn't respond.
"Maybe I don't want to get better," he lashed out.
Dean physically looked like he was in pain when he heard his little brother's words, like someone had literally stabbed him in the heart. It was obvious his little brother had discovered a new painful layer, and this one he was handling dangerously.
"What?" he whispered back trying to keep his voice steady and calm. He was desperately trying to figure out where Sam was and how the hell to talk him out of the decision he was close to making.
Sam continued to stare at the bed. Bobby, sensing the boys needed to talk, went outside to search the perimeter. As soon as the door shut, Sam began.
"What's the point, Dean?" Sam questioned angrily.
"To live, Sam," Dean stated directly, almost as much an answer as a command. "Isn't that what we just decided you were going to do?"
"So what…. I can be hunted down for the rest of my life by some sharpshooter until I turn into God knows what?!!!"
Dean was silent for a second. This wasn't empty hopeless Sam speaking. This was more of an angry, scared shitless hopeless Sam. Sure Sam had grabbed hold of him and was seeking a purpose in life; there was passion and resolve, but it was aimed in the wrong direction. Refusing to eat was definitely not where his little brother needed to be.
"No, Sam, live so we can stop the damn hunter and prevent the demon's plan and you can have a life!"
Sam looked up at Dean. "How the hell am I gonna do that? I can barely even hold my head up let alone stand! I tried! I really did, but I couldn't even …" Sam emotionally choked on his words.
Dean watched as his little brother's anger suddenly faded into despair. "I can't, Dean," Sam concluded shaking his head. I just haven't got it in me."
"Well, I do," Dean emphatically stated, "enough for the both of us."
Dean took his brother's frightened face in his hands. "You're feeling helpless and scared. I get it, I do. But you gotta trust me, Sammy. Can you do that? Can you trust me? You've been through hell. You been tortured and drugged…" Dean's voice hitched, Sam began to tear and he grasped his brother's shirt in his fists and held on, " and you can't see straight. Of course ya can't take on the sharpshooter and the demon right now."
Sam started to look down. Dean let go of his little brother's face and placed his hands gently on his shoulders. His voice softened as he continued to try to reach his little brother's heart.
"S'why me and Bobby are here. All you gotta do is take it one hour at a time. Let me handle the ones that comes after it on into the future till you are able to handle it yourself. You're willing to feel again, Sammy. That's good little brother, but don't let helplessness and fear be what you're relying on to choose whether to live or not. Rely on me to help you make that choice. Choose life and I'll help you find your reason for living."
Dean stopped and waited for Sam to respond. He held his breath. If Sam gave up now, the kid wouldn't make it. He was too weak, too sick.
Sam's tear filled eyes searched his brother's and he bit his lip carefully considering his brother's words. Dean seemed convinced there was hope for him, that the hunter could be stopped and the demon could be thwarted and even if either couldn't, all Dean was asking was for him to make it through the next hour and trust him with the rest.
Dean grew uncomfortable with Sam's hesitation, feeling like his life was going to be made or broken in the quiet seconds that were ticking by.
"Please, Sammy, I'm begging you here," Dean paused, closed his eyes, and reopened them. "Give me one hour at a time. Just one hour at a time," Dean pleaded for his brother's life as much as his own.
Sam softened when he heard Dean's heartfelt plea. He didn't know if he could do it…. for himself, but he knew he could try for Dean. One hour was a small enough piece of time to be manageable, right? Sam did trust Dean, completely, with his life. If his brother believed they could make it, he would accept that, even if he couldn't see a way out of the doom he felt overshadowing him.
Finally, he nodded.
Dean exhaled, patted his shoulder and nodded in sync with his brother. Sam trusted him with his life and Dean was pleased. "S'good, Sammy, that's good. I promise, you have my word, I will see you through this. I swear."
Sam smiled and nodded. "I know you will, Dean." Dean would see him through it, or die trying. Sam as not about to let that happen and he found the resolve he needed to make it through the next hour with his brother by his side, standing guard over the future.
"So, what do you got to eat?" Sam questioned trying to be cooperative and offer Dean a bone.
Dean enthusiastically moved over to the grocery bags haphazardly placed on the floor by the table. He reached inside and pulled out the rice cereal and a baby food jar. He turned around and announced the menu.
"Ah, rice cereal and some kind of green vegetable mush?" Dean declared sheepishly.
Sam stared at the choices his brother had in his hand. "Baby food?!! You've got to be kidding me…and this is the guy I'm trusting with my next hour?"
"Aw, c'mon Sammy. Don't tell me you haven't eyed this stuff in the grocery store but been too embarrassed to admit you wanted to try it," he teased trying to make light of a pretty crappy situation.
"You hate me, don't you?" Sam complained.
"Far from it little brother, far from it," Dean softly acknowledged.
Sam smiled warmly. Dean had just admitted he loved him in his own Dean kind of way and Sam decided eating baby food was worth it.
Dean recognized Sam's smile and his bold declaration and blushed. "Oh, god, kill me now."
Sam continued to smile at his brother's uncomfortableness. "What a guy has to go through to get his brother to admit he loves him."
"I didn't admit that! And I'll tell you what, don't even think twice about doing this whole nearly dying thing ever again! Twice in two months is enough."
"Hey, you did it to me twice."
"Yeah, well, it's okay when I do it, not when you do it."
"Says who?!!" Sam questioned incredulously.
"Me! And what I say goes."
"Since when?"
"Since the minute you turned your next hour over to me, that's when."
"I knew there was a catch. I just knew it. Damn. Ya think ya know a guy.."
Dean smiled and made Sam's 'feast'. He mixed the cereal with water and micro waved it along with the green vegetable mush. Then he pulled out a spoon and approached his brother, taking a seat in the chair beside him.
Sam shook his head as Dean loaded up the spoon and began flying it around and making airplane noises.
"Cut me a break! I'm not letting you feed me, dude," Sam declared.
"Aw, c'mon Sammy. You used to love when I did this, now open up."
Sam tightened his lips and reached for the spoon. Dean quickly yanked it away and laughed at his brother's inability to get it from him.
"Hey, this is a great way to start your physical therapy for your arms. C'mon Sammy try to get the spoon."
Sam looked at Dean with a 'just you wait' expression. He knew exactly how to get his brother to back off. He dropped his arms, suddenly, down at his sides and flopped his head back on his pillow.
Dean stilled immediately. "Sam?"
Sam lay quietly.
"Sammy? Hey? Hey?" Dean hollered as he rose to his feet and leaned over his brother.
Sam opened his eyes, reached out, and grabbed the spoon.
"That is so not cool," Dean hissed, "so not cool."
Sam smiled with is little victory in his hand and then looked at the sticky blob of food that didn't threaten to fall off the spoon even when held upside down. He was beginning to think that maybe his brother had won after all and he looked back up to Dean.
Dean stood over him with his hands folded in front of his chest, rocking on his heels and back to his toes with the biggest damn grin on his face. His eyebrows were up as he waited for his self-sufficient little brother to take his first self-sufficient bite.
Sam rolled his eyes, opened his mouth, and swallowed the warm, gooey blob, his pride along with it.
"mmmm," he sarcastically moaned. "s'good. You should try some."
"Ah, no. I think I'll pass. How's the tongue?"
"Don't ask," was Sam's only advice.
Knowing there was nothing to do for it since stitching was not an option, Dean had to let it go. It would heal in time, but be yet another painful reminder for a while of what had happened.
Dean set the cereal and the jar of vegetable goo on the bed next to Sammy and sat down. It was hard to watch his brother struggle to feed himself, especially when he was growing tired, but he knew Sam's pride and the need to accomplish something for himself was important and he held himself back from helping.
After eating and taking a drink, Dean removed the IV port from his arm and helped him lay back to sleep. He studied his face for a bit, watched a tremor shiver through him, and eventually once convinced he was asleep, readied to get cleaned up.
Bobby returned and reported that all was well outside, then questioned how things were inside. Dean told him Sam had eaten and was willing to fight back to health, at least for now. Bobby nodded, pleased and impressed that Dean was able to pull his brother back from the despair that was threatening to kill the kid when he had left.
"Good job, champ," Bobby encouraged.
Dean nodded. "Wasn't me. Sammy's one hell of a fighter," he declared proudly. " Don't know if I could get back up after being knocked down and ground into the dirt like he's been."
Bobby nodded. "You would, if you had one hell of a great big brother," Bobby added after seeing Dean brush off the fact that he was instrumental in helping Sam keep going.
"Hell, Bobby, you're not going soft on me are ya? Cuz, I don't think I could stand you going all girly on me."
Bobby snorted. Leave it to Dean to turn an offering of recognition into a moment of humiliation.
A smug look washed across Dean's face and he held it, daring Bobby to try to out wit him.
He opened his mouth to jab back, but nothing seemed to come to mind. Damn. The kid had gotten him again. "Smart, ass!"
"Thought so," Dean quipped as he strutted arrogantly into the bathroom to wash up.
TBC
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed!! Thought I'd dig into the emotional side of things in this chapter a bit as we build up towards one heck of an ending. Just curious, have you had enough angst and whumpage? Or do you want more? Just let me know….Smooth sailing for the boys or a rough, bumpy ride to the end? Rachelly
Special Thanks to all my reviewers! You guys keep me going! Well, you and all the virtual chocolate you've been sending me!