Hope you all had a great weekend. Here is the next chapter.
Dean was finally taking a break. Since Dr. Carmichael had started Sam on the new meds the day before, the young man had refused to leave his brother's side for more than a few minutes. Not even Nurse Jo had been able to convince him to at least lie down on his bed, which was only a few feet away from the one the younger man was in. In the end it had taken Bobby to finally put his foot down and threaten to have Dr. Finch sedate him, before the firstborn Winchester had given in. It hadn't been without a lot of grumbling though, none of which the older hunter had been able to make out and for which he had been more than grateful, as it certainly hadn't been compliments that had been coming from Dean's lips.
While the junk yard owner now sat with the catatonic younger brother, the older one had gone downstairs to eat some of the lunch his friend had prepared and to take a nap on the couch. Taking a deep breath, Bobby leaned forward to get a closer look at the young man in the bed. Right now Sam's eyes were closed and his features relaxed, reminding the old hunter of the many occasions he had watched him or his brother sleep, when they stayed here, while their father went on a hunt without them. Sure, it had been a while, but looking at Sam now, it seemed like no further away than yesterday.
For some reason it seemed like one of the boys, sometimes even both, chose to get sick as soon as John had turned and was out of reach. It would be up to Bobby then, to take care of them. Sure, if only one of them got it, the other would insist he could take care of his brother and Dean would usually do a pretty good job at it, yet Sam being four years younger, while doing his best, would never quite be able to do it without help. Not that their surrogate father had minded, he loved the boys and taking care of them, even when sick, was one of his favorite things to do.
Right now Sam looked so much like he had twelve years ago, it made the grizzled hunter wish they actually were back to that time.
Shaking his head, he ran his hand across his face and grumbled, "Getting to be quite the sentimental fool in your old age."
He sat up a little straighter, yet never let his eyes move away from the young man's face. Adjusting his grungy baseball cap, he suddenly started to speak, "Kid, I have no idea what you are doing or where your mind is right now, but if you can hear me, you have to listen to me. I know you think you hurt your brother, well yeah, you did, but that's nothing compared to what he is going through now. He might be all macho on the outside, but believe it or not, he needs you just as much as you need him, maybe even more."
He paused for a moment then continued, "If you heard that, you better don't tell him I told you, because he is going to deny it all the way. You know how he is."
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He was leaning against a bolder, his eyes closed to shield them from the gloominess of his environment, yet his mind's eye only played more of the same to him. He couldn't escape it and he was sure he wasn't supposed to, as it was exactly what he deserved. Still, the grumbling voice he heard from the distance suddenly was a welcome distraction. It was too far off to understand any of the words, yet he had no difficulty to recognize the owner.
For a minute he just listened, enjoying the familiarity and comfort, while at the same time feeling a mild pressure in his chest. The longer he listened, the less comfort he felt, the more intense grew the heaviness, finally turning into a stabbing that felt like it went straight through his heart, leaving him gasping, as he pressed both hands against his chest. Only when the voice stopped and silence surrounded him once again, did the pain go back to the mild pressure that had been there in the beginning.
Clearing his mind, it slowly started to dawn on him that it had been the voice, which had caused the pain. It had awakened a longing in him, one so intense, it was almost unbearable. Tears streamed down his face and mixed with the dirt beneath him, when he rolled up in a ball on the ground, trying to make himself as small as possible to contain the need to run again, because he was sure, this time it would be in the direction of home.
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Dean was back on his brother's side before Dr. Carmichael arrived to check on his patient. The transplant specialist was more than happy with the results of the blood tests, which once again had been drawn by Nurse Jo before she had left that morning. After finishing the thorough check he gave the youngest Winchester, he turned back to the two older men, his face speaking of the disappointment he clearly felt.
"I wish I could tell you something more positive, than that his vital signs are stable and that I don't see any symptoms of infection, but I can't. There are no signs that he is coming out of his catatonic state. His reactions are normal, so that tells me he didn't slip into a coma, but that's about as good as things get."
"Hey, don't worry about it, I told you yesterday that if you do your job, then I will do the rest. I'm gonna bring Sam back." Dean's voice didn't just sound determined this time, it sounded enthusiastic.
His excitement was contagious and Dr. Carmichael had to smile. He had no doubt that the young man in front of him would be able to make good on his promise. He had started to admire the relationship between the two brothers before he had ever met them. What Dr. Finch had told him about the Winchesters had been the reason, why he had taken Sam on as a patient. When he finally had met the two of them, he had been even more impressed. He had almost instantaneously noticed the way they wordlessly communicated with one another and how this communication never seemed to seize. Even if one of them was sleeping or unconscious, the other just had to enter the room for the sleeper to immediately relax. They lifted each other up, picked up on one another's moods and had something that was more than just being family. It was a rare bond that seemed to be unbreakable and would certainly make for an interesting study for any scientist, not that he would ever involve one, as these two young men deserved better than being lab rats for some university study.
He wasn't a psychologist, yet Sam's reaction to hitting his brother only increased his belief in this bond. It was the same thing he had seen in Dean before, there was a protectiveness towards the other that was willing to sacrifice everything, even one's life, to keep the other safe.
"I'm glad you think that way." He said out loud, "Sam is lucky to have you as a brother."
A smile played around the older Winchester's lips, as he answered, "I'm the lucky one here."
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There was no doubt, how serious Dean was about bringing his brother back, there never had been. Yet now there was a complete shift in his attitude. In the beginning he had been filled with desperation and had gone with begging and trying to entice the younger man to return. Now he was taking it on in the typical Dean Winchester way, with a big portion of cockiness and kick-butt-attitude completed by a slice of "I'm-the-older-one-and-know-better" privilege and all of it wrapped into a thick blanket of brotherly love.
He talked for hours, so much so that any outsider would have thought he was the kind, who liked to hear himself talk. As there was no outsider here though, it left only Bobby and later Nurse Jo to listen and both of them knew that Dean wasn't hearing in own voice. The older hunter and surrogate father knew for a fact that the only thing the older brother was listening for was the voice of his younger sibling.
For the longest time it appeared like there was no change in Sam's catatonic state, at least not from what Bobby could tell. Yet by the time day turned into evening, there was a slight change in the firstborn Winchester's behavior. It seemed that his talk became faster, his words taking on more urgency.
Knowing that he had to be exhausted, Jo was ready to talk him into a break, yet found herself held back by gentle, yet firm hand on her shoulder.
"Let him be, at least for a while longer!" The junk yard owner told her, "I think he sees something we can't. He might be getting close."
The nurse gave him a doubtful look and was ready to argue her point, yet then thought better of it. By now she should be used to strange things happening with those two boys.
Nodding instead, she said, "I'll go downstairs and get some coffee, I could use a cup right now. You want me to bring you some?"
"I'll come with you, it's gonna be a long night." Bobby said, following her into the hallway. He couldn't help but feel that Dean was going to reach his goal before the sun saw a new day.
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Leaning against a rock, he let his eyes glide over the never-ending gray of his desert hell. He yearned for something different, for warmth or even more for peace, yet he knew he couldn't get either of it. Warmth was something he didn't deserve and from peace, at least as far as his definition of the word went, which was spelled with four letters and drove a gas guzzling black monster that was more of a home to him than any mansion could ever be, he absolutely had to stay away from, no matter how much he was drawn to it.
An eerie silence hung in the air, surrounding him like a thick blanket. He wished for some noise, something to distract him, really anything would do to make this loneliness more bearable. Even the sonic scream of a banshee would be better than this. Yet when his wish suddenly was granted, he wanted nothing more than to take it back again, because even in the initially unintelligible murmur he could identify the sound of his brother's voice without having to second guess himself for even a moment.
Getting up from his resting place, he started to scamper away, his mind overruling his heart's desire to turn into the direction from which the voice came. Picking up the pace, he noticed two things happening at once, first that his body was rotated 180 degrees with a swiftness that almost made him loose his balance, second that almost immediately his feet started to move forward. There was actually a third thing he noticed, worse than any of the first two and that was that he was now running towards the voice at a speed that let it become louder at an alarming speed. Already he could make out certain words.
"…this…not...fault. …need…come back…"
No, no, no, this couldn't be happening; he couldn't go back to Dean, no way. He had to stop this right now.
Putting all his strength into bringing his body to a standstill, he found that he had no control over his legs. Instead of coming to a halt, they actually ran faster, as a matter of fact, by now he was at his top speed and was coming so close that he could see the outline of his brother standing at the border between the green, sunny lands and his personal desert hell.
"That's it…; just a…more …can do…Sammy." He almost could see the encouragement on Dean's face now.
"Nooooooo….!" He threw himself forward, attempting to dig his fingers into the dirt, but finding no purchase in the hard earth.
Dragged ahead on his abdomen, like there was an invisible rope pulling him, he struggled against the unknown force, which took control over his body. He couldn't give up, because giving up would mean hurting, maybe even killing Dean and that was the one thing that couldn't happen. Fighting to roll over and when this didn't work, lifting his legs as high of the ground as possible instead, he brought them down with all the power he had left in an effort to hammer his booted feet into the ground, hoping this would be enough to stop from moving. To no avail though, no matter what, he continued to move forward.
"Don't fight it, Sammy." Dean was clearly visible now, his green eyes full with anticipation, his arms stretched out, ready to receive his baby brother into them.
"No, no, please don't, you don't understand, I can't be with you. I'm dangerous." He put everything into his desperate plea, hoping to convince the other, to make him understand.
With a last sudden jerk, he was drawn over the line, a scream escaping his throat as his brother's arms engulfed him.
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He was hearing him, the older Winchester could tell at the shiver that went through his brother's lanky body.
"Sam, listen to me, this is not your fault. I need you to come back, you hear me?" He hurried to say, watching for a reaction.
Seeing the tension increase, he continued, "That's it kiddo, just a little bit more, I know you can do this, Sammy."
The younger man's body convulsed on the bed, his eyes tightly squeezed shut, his hands clinched into fist so tight, the knuckle turned white. His lips were moving and although there was no sound coming from them, it was not difficult for Dean to hear the soundless "no, no, please don't".
"Don't fight it, Sammy." He encouraged, his arms suddenly open and stretched out in a gesture he didn't even know he was making.
With an abrupt jerk the youngest Winchester's upper body bolted to a sitting position, his eyes flying open and his hands moved up towards his face. A scream tore from his throat, so desperate; it made tears flow down the older brother's cheeks. Stretching forward a little further, he wrapped his arms around Sam, tightly embracing his little brother's shaking body, just as he used to do when they were kids.
"It's going to be okay, Sammy, I promise!"
TBC
So Sam is back, at least that's what it looks like. Let me know what you think and thanks for sticking with me. Hugs, Vonnie