Heyja! So FFnet is messing with the bits and bytes again, huh? At least it doesn't get boring...

So, how about some talking now? After all the action and cliffies I tortured you with? Thanks to all of you who're still reading and leaving review after review, it's fantastic!

Chapter 26

Waking up had been easier and easier every time he had tried. While the first few times had resembled an energy-sapping slosh through waist-deep mud, it felt like waking up from a long peaceful slumber this time.

No wonder after about one hundred attempts.

His fight for consciousness had been haunted by the fear for what would expect him when he would wake up. But there were no screams. No heat. No rack. He didn't see or hear Mike. Which could only mean one thing.

He was a fugitive once again. He had escaped hell once more.

So with every time he tried to wake up, the horrible fear had died down more and more, turning from a blazing fire to a controllable flame. With every flutter of his eyes, every time Dean realized that he had reached this weird state between sleep and waking, his brain had registered another new detail in his surroundings which had nothing to do with hell altogether.

Before he had seen where he was, Dean had smelled it. The telltale odor of antiseptic. The stale air in a room that either hadn't a window or no one dared to open it. There had been voices, some he had recognized, some he hadn't. His first surge of panic had subsided after Dean had identified Phillip's voice – loud and clear, talking to him, coaxing him to get better soon.

At some point Dean could have sworn he had heard Bobby. However, when he had finally managed to drag his heavy eyelids open, the old man was nowhere in sight. But then Dean didn't know how much time had had passed from Bobby's encouraging words and him waking up.

But there had been one constant that seemed to be always there. Sitting beside him, reading or tapping into the laptop. Leaning against the window (so no one dared to let some fresh air in), looking out, brooding. Slumped on the chair, fast asleep beside him despite the awkward position the plastic piece of crap forced him into.

Whenever he had come to, Sam had been there. Dean had either seen him, some dark, blurry silhouette in bright surroundings, or heard him. And it was one of the main reasons Dean didn't fight the pull of sleep whenever it claimed him. Because he knew Sam was there.

And so the first thing Dean noticed as he slowly clawed his way back to consciousness this time was Sam's voice.

"How about you go back outside and keep that chair warm, huh?"

Okay, little brother was pissed.

"Oh, I do that. But I'm afraid there's nothing you can do to keep me from checking on you or Snow White over there from time to time."

Dean knew that second voice, he just couldn't pinpoint where he had heard it before. Also, it had a rather nasal quality to it.

"Whatever gets you through the night."

Sam sounded tired. Defeated. Dean could feel his brother's exhaustion radiate from him.

"I could sit down with you and tell you about the things I do at night but I don't think you want to know."

True to the motto 'trial & error' Dean opened his eyes, mildly surprised over the fact that he was able to do so without further struggle. A few blinks later they had adjusted themselves to the bright light shining down on him from somewhere above his head.

"That's were you're right, big boy, thanks for the kind offer. Back off now, okay?"

He lay on his right side, head resting on a soft pillow, something tickling his nose. The first thing Dean could make out was a laptop, being balanced on a crossed pair of ridiculously long jeans-clad legs. A wave of warmth washed over him, the image alone making him feel at home immediately.

"No need to grumble."

Darting his blurry gaze over to the second voice, Dean recognized the rather big man standing at the door. And after a few determined blinks he clearly saw the reason for his nasal mode of speaking, a bright white bandage taping the man's nose.

He watched Griffin turn and leave the room, an act that was commented by Sam with an unnerved sigh and a mumbled "Should have broken the moron's jaw..." while he stared at his laptop, typing something into it.

"Wasn't me th's time..." Dean slurred, surprised at how weak and raspy he sounded, but happy over the fact that at least something had managed to escape his sandpaper lips. And from Sam's reaction his brother had heard it, too.

Jerking his head up, the laptop almost sliding from his knee, Sam looked at Dean wide-eyed before his tired features brightened and a huge smile appeared.

"Dean", he breathed, hectically putting the laptop aside onto the nightstand, "you're awake...that's...what did you just say?"

And for the tiniest second Dean could swear he was just watching Sam's first date.

"Griffin. His nose. Wasn't me, right?"

Sam gaped at him for a second before he snorted and pinched the bridge of his nose. A gesture that was evidence for Sam's stress and fatigue. "Yeah, well. Actually it was me. He stood in my way."

Now it was Dean's turn to snort, even if it was faint and resembled more of a sigh. "Must be a nasty habit."

"How are you feeling? Man, you've been out for ages and whenever I thought you'd wake up you were asleep again. I swear, my butt and this chair...they're forming a unified whole by now."

"I can imagine. Is Bobby here?"

"He was. Checked on you a couple of times. Phillip was here, too. I promised to call him when you decide to wake up for real."

Dean nodded. He wrinkled his nose and tried to move a clumsy hand towards it, but was stopped by Sam.

"Don't. It's a nasal cannula. You need it."

Dean let go, Sam as well. The brothers lapsed into silence, an awkward one, both knowing that they were currently trying to ignore the huge pink elephant in the room, tearing something down with every wag of it's tail. Slowly, Dean pushed himself into a sitting position, surprised at how difficult that simple task was. Sam assisted him as good as he could, further increasing the awkwardness that wafted between them.

It was the first time Dean noticed the dressings covering his right forearm, the bandages almost as thick as a cast. When he was settled again, sweating and nauseous, his gaze stayed glue onto the stark white dressings.

"Sam…"

"Are you going to tell me why you did this, Dean?"

Okay. Here they went.

Taking a shaky breath, Dean ran his left over his face, careful as not to jar the cannula, averting Sam's eyes. "Seemed like a good idea to me back there."

"That so? You wanna know what I think of that glorious idea?"

"Sam, calm down…"

"No, I won't calm down." From the corner of his eye Dean saw his brother leap to his feet and march over to the window, raking his hair. Oh yeah, Sam was pissed.

"Can you imagine how I felt? To find you in a puddle of blood, apparently your own? Not moving, not reacting to my voice? I swear, it was like a fucking déjà vu, only that this time I came within a whisker of holding you in my arms while you were kicking the bucket instead of watching from a few feet away like I did a few months ago."

"Well, you weren't supposed to find me."

"Yeah? Sorry to rain on your parade, I found you. Just in time."

Dean whipped his head up. "And who'd have thought that?" he spat, shooting daggers over at Sam who visible flinched at the sudden sharpness, "where have you been all the times before, huh? Where were you? You've made yourself so scarce all the time, I had no trouble believing Salinger and Rosenberg when they told me that you left for good. So no, you weren't supposed to find me, actually the idea behind all this is was that no one finds me."

Sam gaped at him. His answer came so low that Dean almost didn't hear him.

"So that's what they told you?"

"Apparently yes."

"And you believed them?"

This time it was Dean who flinched when Sam looked at him, a mixture of disappointment and anger on his face. "You really thought I'd do something like that? Just let you rot there? Pack my things and leave you alone in that shithole?"

"Yes Sam, I thought that. Because lately there are some things you do that have reached a whole new level of shadiness and I'm not sure if I can trust you anymore."

Sam just kept staring at him, his eyes turning glassy.

"Whatever you did to get me out of that place", Dean continued, fighting to keep his own voice steady, "nothing worked. Hell, at some point I thought you didn't want to get me out. And then you just dropped off the face of earth, you never reappeared…"

"They didn't let me, Dean", Sam interrupted his brother, composed but visibly shaken, "they banished me from the house after they found out that it was me who stopped your medication, I had no chance to get to you, neither had Phillip."

Dean swallowed, processing the words. "That was you? The medication?"

"Yes, Dean. I did that. And I'm sorry if it looked as if I didn't care about you. It was me who stalled all the sessions, or why did you think they didn't bother you with those? I did what I could, I know it wasn't much, but I tried. I tried so hard. I'm sorry if it wasn't enough."

Dean looked down and started to fidget with the oximeter on his index finger. Suddenly he felt ashamed for his reaction. What else didn't he know about his brother's efforts to make it easier for him?

"Stop fumbling with that", Sam admonished softly, his anger seeming to fade as well.

Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes but left the little device that was attached to him alone. He started to straighten the creases of his blanket instead. "The meds, huh?", he asked quietly.

"Yeah. I didn't know anything about those drugs you were getting, but I figured they might be heavy stuff, messing with your state of mind. I think they might have triggered…I assumed they could do a lot of damage. I don't know, call it a hunch." Sam paused and Dean finally looked up at him, relieved to find an understanding expression on his little brother's face.

"What happened, Dean? What did you see? And don't tell me you don't want to talk about it. I think I have a right to know after that stunt you've pulled."

Dean's mouth twitched although he had no intentions to smile or laugh. He knew Sam was right. Maybe he should have talked to him sooner. Maybe he could have avoided some of the mess.

"You remember that day I had that blackout? In the hallway, when I thought I had seen something?"

Sam nodded. "You denied it."

"Well, I saw something. And it was very real. Or actually not. At least it had been real to me. Hell's haunting me, Sam. And I didn't know where to escape. I still don't know."

And Dean started talking. He told Sam about the visions, about Mike appearing over and over. About the accident the night Phillip and him had finished off the ghost, his escape, the reason he hadn't noticed the car. Sam listened closely. He interrupted Dean not once. His face mirroring Dean's emotions, his expression growing pained with every tremor jarring his older brother's voice.

"It got worse. And worse", Dean choked out, struggling to keep his composure, "I really thought I'd lost it. Whatever Mike said, it felt right. And when I killed that kid I knew I was exactly what he accused me to be."

It was the first time Sam cut in. "Wait. What?"

"The kid. The one I beat to pulp because I thought it was a demon. He wasn't, you know. No demon. Just an ordinary young man."

"He isn't dead, Dean."

The older Winchester frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Julian's fine. Well, according to circumstances. He's pretty bruised and battered but he's far from dead."

This was like a punch to the guts. Dean stared at his sibling as if he had grown a second head. "Don't give me that crap", he whispered, thunderstruck. He wanted to believe Sam's words. But could it be possible that the doctors had lied to him about that, too?

Sam shook his head. "It's the truth. I spoke to him", he replied bitterly.

Closing his eyes, Dean clenched his jaw. "Those sons of bitches", he hissed through gritted teeth, the sudden urge to throw something almost overwhelming. So they had lied to him. They had told him that Sam had left. They had told him he had killed someone. They had manipulated him in ways, it was downright disgusting.

When he opened his eyes again, Sam had taken a seat beside him again. He looked as pissed as Dean felt.

"It's their method of operating", Sam growled, "they break the patients first. Then they can put them back together. It's the reason I decided to discontinue the meds. You were okay...after you came back, I mean. Experiences from hell or not, you might not been fine but you were doing okay. But when you landed in there, you changed. And to lose it like this…I figured it could have only been the meds. Maybe going Cold Turkey wasn't the sharpest thing to do, but I just wanted that shit out of your body."

Dean nodded feebly. It was the only explanation for his weird visions and hallucinations. It had started right after his second night in the nuthouse, after Griffin hat tried to punch a hole into the wall with his head and he had gotten something for the injury. And with every new incident another new drug was added and round and round it went...

"How are you feeling now?" Sam asked, "Mike somewhere in sight?"

The older Winchester shook his head. "No. Nothing weird so far. It's funny, I mean, I get that stuff here as well, right? How come my brain doesn't play tricks on me now?"

"Other meds, I guess", Sam shrugged, "less mind stirring. Anyway, if the guy or someone else from your past makes an appearance again, you tell me, okay?"

"'kay", Dean replied, his mind wandering off. How was it possible that a simple hallucination, though born from real experience, could work havoc in such ways? Could drive him insane, push him so far to the edge that he had taken the final step willingly. He had been desperate. He remembered all those feelings clearly. The thoughts, the reasons that explained the 'why'. Even tasted his blood, felt the resistance tendons and muscle had offered against his teeth.

A surge of nausea rushed over him and Dean squeezed his eyes shut. God.

"Dean? You okay? You need something?" He felt Sam grip his upper arm, tried to concentrate on the touch, relished the close proximity.

"'m okay", Dean grated out, taking a deep breath. "What now, Sammy? I get it that they won't let me go now, huh? I don't think Griffin's here because he brought some flowers?"

Sam didn't answer right away and Dean felt his heart sink. "There are orderlies posted outside since you've been admitted", Sam replied quietly, "but I'm sure it'll take a few days before they transport you back into the facility. I'll figure something out."

Another thing Dean wanted to believe. "Okay", he whispered, noticing that he was feeling tired and unwell after the draining conversation. At Sam's sudden grin he frowned. "What?"

"They have very elegant laundry carts in here."

It took Dean a few blinks to get the gist. His face lit up, mirroring Sam's shit eating grin. "Shut up."

Despite his efforts to hide his discomfort, Sam seemed to notice nonetheless. His little brother's smile faded, his expression turning concerned.

"You should get some rest", Sam recommended, getting up and fumbling with the device to adjust the head section of Dean's bed.

"Yes mom", Dean replied, listening to the whirr when the section lowered, "maybe you should do the same. You don't look so hot."

"I want to see you after spending days on a plastic chair. I'm really looking forward to spend a night in a motel bed right now."

Dean almost didn't get the last part of Sam's sentence. With his new position flat on the back it was hard to stay awake much longer, this longest time of wide-awakeness including all the talking having drained him.

When Sam pulled the blanket up to make sure his older sibling was tucked in properly, Dean gathered the last bits of strength he had left.

"Sammy?" he rasped, trying to catch Sam's gaze.

"Yeah?"

"'m sorry."

Sam frowned. "For what?"

"Sorry I didn't trust you."

His kid brother's questioning look turned into a pained grimace. He looked as if he was about to reply something but if he did, Dean didn't catch it anymore. His eyes fell shut and he fell into a blissful slumber.

To be continued...