Dean startled.

Something had awakened him. He shifted in the uncomfortable chair and looked toward the window.

Night had fallen.

He must have been asleep for hours, and apparently, Dad still wasn't back from his mysterious errand.

Dean stretched and glanced toward the bed, freezing.

Sam stared back at him, small smile on his face.

Dean shot to his feet, bolting to the bedside.

"Sammy! You're awake!"

Sam smiled wider, "Dean." He said, voice scratchy from neglect.

"You're awake and talking!" Dean grinned, giving his brother's hand a squeeze.

Sam frowned, swallowing hard, "Thirsty." He put a hand to his throat.

"I'll get you some water. Oh, hell yeah, you're thirsty!" Dean poured a cup from the ever-present pitcher that sat on Sam's bedside table. He helped position the straw so his brother could sip.

"Careful now. Not too much. It's been a while."

Sam let the straw slip from between his lips and smiled again, "You're wearing my shirt." He noted.

Dean flushed, suddenly embarrassed. He was wearing one of Sam's old hoodies. It just made him feel more connected somehow … then it hit him, and his eyes went wide.

"You can see me? Sam! You can see?"

"I can see. It's just a little out-of-focus maybe. But good enough. What … what happened to me, Dean? I remember being in a chair, wishing I could get up and walk around. At least, I think it's a memory. Shallie …?"

"He's fine, Sammy. Shallie's cool. He misses you though. We all did. You … uh ... you've been real sick for a while now."

Dean saw the surprise surface in his brother's eyes. "How long? What's wrong with me?"

"Too long, Sam. Weeks. But you're better now. Just focus on getting better, okay little bro? Damn, you had me scared, man."

"Sorry." Sam said softly, staring at the older boy. "Dean."

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Are you okay? How … how are your legs?"

Dean grinned, "Fine as wine, Sammy. But you worry about you right now, okay? Hey, you hungry? You gotta be starving?"

Sam looked like he was thinking. "I think I might be. Mostly just really thirsty though. Maybe … think I could get a ginger ale?"

Dean nodded, his stupid grin growing ever bigger. "Sure thing. Don't go anywhere." He shot back as he flew out the door and smacked into the unyielding barrier that was John Winchester.

"Easy, son. What's wrong? Is it Sam?" The older man gripped him by both shoulders, worried.

Dean grinned, "It sure as hell is, Dad. And he's thirsty!"

John stared for a moment before a grin began to form across his face. He released Dean and slapped the door open, stepping inside.

"Sam? You awake, son?"

Sam made an effort to sit up straighter as he shot his father a warm smile. "Hi Dad."

John had to make a concerted effort not to cry as he swept forward and gathered his youngest up into a careful hug. "You had us scared, boy. Don't do that again, you hear me?"

Sam sniffled into his father's shoulder, relishing the rare display of affection. "I'll try not to, Dad." He promised as John broke the embrace. He gazed up at the older man in frank adoration.

John noticed, "Sam? Can you … can you see me?"

Sam nodded.

"Sam …" John was too choked up to say more. Luckily, Dean was back with a nurse and a small can of ginger ale.

"So our patient's awake!' the nurse said delightedly, stepping up to the bed to check vitals and to make a notation on Sam's chart. "How do you feel, Sam? You had us all pretty worried, you know." She winked.

"Feel okay." He said softly, gratefully taking a sip from the can that Dean held carefully before him. "I can even see okay."

She paused. "You can see? Clearly?"

"It's a little blurry, is all, like maybe I need glasses."

She smiled and placed her hand over his. "That's terrific news, Sam! I'll go tell your doctors, okay? How about your head? Headache at all? Any chest pain?"

Sam practically saw Dean's ears perk upright at the questions, and he chuckled softly, "No, I'm good. Feel the best I've felt in a while." He turned to his brother. "No lava." He said, knowing Dean would understand.

And the older boy did. His grin was bigger than the room as the nurse departed.

"Come here, you little bitch." Dean snorted, and leaned in to wrap Sam in an embrace. "I'm so glad you're feeling better, Sammy. Damn, I missed you, kid."

Sam wrapped spaghetti arms around his brother and held on like he never wanted to let go. He rested his head on Dean's shoulder and tried to smother an errant sob.

Dean rubbed gentle circles on his back. "It's okay, man. You can cry if you need to, Sammy. You've earned it."

And maybe, had they been alone, Sam would have indulged himself - if only for a moment or two. But they weren't alone. John Winchester was in the room, and that meant sucking it up and being tough. He pulled away, swiping at his eyes.

"I'm okay, jerk. Where's that soda again?"

Dean grinned, and held the can carefully up, positioning the straw so Sam didn't have to."

Sam sipped then leaned back to rest. Even that small of a movement depleted him. "So, what happened to me? Am I going to be okay? Is it … is it cancer … or something?" His eyes watered as he bit his lower lip and waited for the answer.

Dean gasped. "Oh, hell no, Sam! Don't say shit like that! It's not cancer, okay?"

"Well, what then?"

John placed a comforting hand on his youngest's shoulder. "You're going to be fine, Sam. I promise. What was happening to you … well, it isn't happening anymore."

But Sam refused to be humored.

"But what was it? I mean, do I have to worry about it happening again?"

John and Dean exchanged looks. "No, Sammy. No way. It's never gonna happen again. I won't let it." Dean reassured him.

Sam looked from one to the other. "You're not telling me everything." He said accusingly, sounding lost. "Why not? You don't think I deserve to know? Is it a big secret?"

John looked away and moved toward the window, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. "Sam, just let it go, please? Just … don' t push. Not now, okay?"

Sam sat back, frowning. Tears came instantly to his eyes and he looked down to try and shield them from his brother's intense scrutiny. "Fine. Whatever. I'd like to rest now" He said, dejectedly, turning away from them both and curling into a tight ball in the hospital bed.

Dean watched his little brother's mood plummet. "Sammy …" He moved forward and tried to catch Sam's hand, but Sam flinched away. "I'm … I'm tired, Dean. Please?"

"Okay, Sammy. If you're tired." he ran a hand over his face. "Get some rest, kiddo. I'll … uh … I'll be right here if you need anything, okay?"

Sam nodded, not responding.