FROM THE AUTHOR: Many thanks to all the readers and reviewers of previous version of this story, your support was invalueable and I love you for it! I had to rewrite the story, turn it from a multi-chapter fic into a 'verse. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to finish. I think this story is better written now. Enjoy and review! (I also change my nick from Wielorybek to . ).

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.

WARNINGS: swearing, sensitive medical content. In this story Bobby wasn't resurrected after the events on Stull Cemetery. The medical knowlegde is probably bullshit, I know, but that's not the point of this story. The point is to give You some hurt!Sam and protective!bigbro!Dean.

The World Will Never Know It

"Is he gonna wake up?"

"I'm not a human doctor, Dean."

"Could you take a guess?!"

"Ok" growled Cass. "Probably not."

"Well, don't sugar-coat it!"

"I'm sorry Dean, but I've warned you not to put that back inside him…"

"Then what was I supposed to do?! Let T-1000 walk around, hope he doesn't open fire…"

"Let me tell you, what his soul felt like, when it touched it." hissed Cass. "Like it've been skinned alive, Dean! If you wanted to kill your brother, you should've done it right!"

A moment of staring contest between the hunter and the angel.

A whistle of wings.

OOO

"You're gonna be okay, Sammy. I promise. I'll take care of you, of everything. Don't worry about a thing. Just open those puppy-dog eyes for me."

OOO

Hydration – covered by IV's. Nourishment – so far not covered.

Dean takes Sam's hands into his.

"God, your hands are cold as ice, Sammy."

He checks his brother's foot.

"Same with your feet, dude. Okay, gimme a minute, I'll make it better."

Dean goes upstairs and finds an old woolen blanket and a pair of heavy socks. Must have been Bobby's, he thinks, his heart squirming with pain.

He returns to the panic room and puts the warm socks on his brother's feet. Tucks a blanked around him.

"I'll wait here until you wake up, little brother. I'm not going anywhere. But please, hurry. You're givin' me a headache here." pleads Dean once more, and Sam once more remains still.

OOO

Turns out that there is one more thing that Dean didn't secured. He took care of fluids input, but forgot about fluids output.

The sound of drops falling on the panic room's bare floor and the smell of urine are a testament to that.

"Oh crap." - swears Dean. "Oh man, I'm so sorry. I should've thought about that."

For a moment Dean doesn't know what to do. He tries jostling his brother a little, hoping that maybe, miraculusly, Sam would wake up.

But he doesn't.

Dean travels in his mind to the time when Sam was just a toddler. How he dealt with it then? Oh yes, he remembers.

Dean goes upstairs and prepares a basin of warm water, a sponge, a towel. He also gets a couch ready – he finds some old oilcloth in the kichen and uses it to protect the cushions from getting soiled. He covers the oilcloth with a sheet. He also gets a fresh boxers and t-shirt from Sam's duffel bag.

"Okay" he murmurs to himself. "Let's get it over with."

Dean comes back downstairs. Sam is lying in the exact same position, like being wet and cold doesn't make him uncomfortable. Dean disconnects the IV and picks up his brother with a groan of effort.

"Bitch" moans Dean. "I'll never stop teasing you about this."

He doesn't mean it, not really. He promised that he'll take care of everything, so just fuckin' watch him. He is just so scared that Sam is going to be this unconscious, unresponsive bag of flesh forever that it makes him sick.

Dean carries his brother out of the panic room and upstairs. Places Sam on the couch gently as possible, puts him on his back. He quickly starts taking off Sam's soaked jeans and boxers, and in a minute his brother is naked from the waist down. If Sam was awake, he would be mortified.

Dean isn't. He gently cleans Sam's buttocks, thighs and genital area. Dryes him with a towel and dresses in a fresh pair of boxers. He thinks for a minute about putting sweatpants on him, but resigns. If Sam doesn't wake up soon, this accident will happen again. One pair of soiled boxers are better than boxers and sweats.

Sam didn't wake up that day. And the next. And next.

OOO

Dean is panicking. He connects and disconnects IV's, changes wet sheets and underwear, sponge-baths, talks, pleads, makes promises, prays.

Nothing works.

Sam's eyes are sunken, his face is pale and peaked. He've lost weight.

One more week and he is so emaciated that Dean makes the ultimate decision.

The same day he dresses Sam in a clean clothes, packs a few things in a duffel and starts the Impala.

OOO

They – the doctors – don't know what is wrong with Sam. Dean never counted that they would.

There is no disease or syndrome in medical textbooks known as "side effects of returning a soul which have been tortured in Hell for centuries by Lucifer to the body".

So, when the doctor comes to see him after two weeks of Sam's inconclusive tests and tells him that he has no idea how to help Sammy, Dean is calm. He just wish that doctors will be able to keep his brother alive until Sam overpowers this. Because Sam will overpower this and wake up.

Somedays Dean thinks about praying to Castiel. No, he bailed. He left us. He wouldn't answer anyway.

Somedays Dean thinks about praying to whomsoever. Who? God? He is apparently a dick and left too. Angels? Even worse shitheads.

Somedays Dean just wish for Bobby to be here. Bobby is dead. Murdered by Lucifer.

Somedays Dean thinks about the people they saved over the years, and those are good thoughts.

Those are somedays. On most days Dean just focuses on Sam.

He is lying in hospital bed perfectly still, with a feeding tube in his nose, and a Hickman line in his chest. He used to have a Foley catheter also, but it gave him a urinary tract infection pretty quick, so now he is just in diapers.

Sam looks so small and frail with some of his muscles already atrophied, that Dean is fixing his pillows, IV's, tubes, changing clothes and switching diapers with tenderness he never presumed he had.

He talks to Sam a lot. Reads books. They – the doctors – say that there is a chance that Sam can hear him. They probably said it to make him fell better, they can't really know.

It doesn't matter. Sam is here, so is Dean.

Sam is fighting, Dean is waiting.

OOO

"Mr. Winchester? Dean?" - nurse Aubrey accosts him. "I hope that I'm not rude, but can I ask... What your brother did that he end up so sick?"

Dean looks at her for a moment and she feels as if he was looking into her very essence.

"My brother saved the world." - he says. "And the world will never know it."

OOO

There were no signs. No budging, no twitching, no reacting to voices or light. One day Dean just looks at Sam and realizes that a pair of brown irises are staring back at him.

Sam is not making much sense since. He just stares, but it seems like he acknowledges his brother's presence – if Dean moves, Sam's eyes follows. That doesn't happen with nurses or doctors, only Dean. He doesn't talk. If Dean brings a spoon to his mouth, he tries to eat. Tries, because most of the food is not swallowed, but leaks from his mouth.

Dean tells him that it's okay, effort is all that matters.

OOO

"Sam? My name is Peter Caldwell, I'm your doctor. Can you tell me your brother's name?"

Sam's gaze is fixed on the doctor, but nothing more happens.

"C'mon Sammy, tell the doctor my name, I know you remember." encourages Dean, taking his hand and rubbing it gently with his thumb. "Just like you called me yesterday."

Sam's eyes wander to Dean's face and then it happens.

"D'n"

"That's right, Sammy!" beams Dean, smiling from ear to ear and gently stroking Sam's hair. "Can you tell me your name, little brother?"

"D'n."

"Yeah, that's me little brother, that's me. And you? Can you tell me your name?"

A second of silence. A second of hope.

"S'm."

Dean melts, having a chick-flick moment right here and now, but fuck it, he doesn't care.

OOO

"No. No no nooo..."

"What's on your mind, Sammy? What's a no?" - chats Dean, ripping open a new package of diapers and taking one out. Sam doesn't talk much, and doctors recommended to encourage him to talk as much as possible. Most of Sam's babbling spurts doesn't make any sense, he claims that dad let him eat spiders for dinner or that he would like the trees to sing. Maybe Death did mess something in Sam's walnut when he put the wall in it. So Dean encourages him, but doesn't stop his attempt to put a fresh diaper on his brother, only half-listening.

"No! NO!" - screams Sam, and despite his weak hands and almost immobile legs, tries to throw Dean's hands and diaper off himself.

"Sam, what are you doin' buddy?" - asks Dean, raising hands in defensive gesture. "What's wrong?"

Sam curls his lanky arms protectively over his torso and pants loudly. He looks absolutely vulnerable in his thrift-shop flower-pattern pyjamas (the only one matching Sam's size) and half-sealed diaper.

"You upset, Sammy? Can you tell me what happened, so I can help?" - persists Dean, stroking gently Sam's back in a calming gesture.

"No... No diaper."

Dean is just stunned. This is the most sensible and close-to-reality sentence that his brother have said in weeks.

"Oh. Oh! That's... great! That's great, Sammy. Wow! I will call nurse Patty, okay? 'Cause we hace to ask her if we can do that, right? Don't worry, we will do that anyway, but we have to keep up our apperances as good patients, you know?" - Dean presses the call button, smiling like an idiot, but he is so freaking happy. He is getting his stubborn little brother back.

"You called?" nurse Patty asks, standing in the doorway.

"Yes, I did. My brother just told me that he doesn't need diapers anymore and I just wanted to ask you if it's okay to take it off."

"You did, Sam?" - inquires Patty, approaching Sam's bed and giving him a warm, motherly smile.

"No diaper" - repeats Sam.

"That's a big challenge Sam, you know that? If you feel ready, I say we can try. Dean, I'll bring the bedpan and show you how to assist Sam with it. Sam, remember that you have to tell us when you need to use it, okay?"

"Thanks, Patty" - replies Dean. "You're amazing."

"I know."

She gives him a wink and leaves the room.

OOO

Nothing is easy, but slowly Sam comes back. Mentally.

Physically – not so much.

He is not able to move his legs – only his toes a little. His arms are stiff and clumsy, hands clench too tightly or not at all. Sam have a difficulty even with sitting without an aid, but doctors believe that with a little practice he will be able to achieve that. Dean practices with him everyday.

The NG tube is still in place. There is something wrong with Sammy's swallowing reflex, making eating very unproductive. And messy. They practice swallowing every day too.

Sam is very keen on the bedpan plan of action, and mostly he accomplishes it. Accidents still happen though. They practice every day.

On top of it all, the more aware Sam is becoming, the more frustrated he is getting.

Sam loved independence the most. Even when he was little - Dean remembers – just barely walking on his two plumpy legs, he always wanted to do everything by himself. "No, me alone!" - Sam used to demand every time Dean tried to bathe him or feed him.

And now – over twenty years later – he lost his precious autonomy. He needs Dean to dress him, feed him, clean him, help him with the bedpan, change him if he didn't manage. Dean doesn't mind. He is happy doing that – happy that he got his pain-in-the-ass little brother back. Sam is... quiet mostly, calm and obedient, he lets Dean help and fuss over him which is so unlike his stubborn little brother, that it starts to worry Dean.

And with Sam's mental progress come questions.

OOO

"You sitting steadily? Can I let go?" asks Dean sunday morning, after he manoeuvres Sam into sitting position on the edge of the bed. Sam nods, holding on to the bedrails.

"Okay, let me just put your socks on and we're good to go." - confirms Dean, reaching to the small bedside cabinet, looking for warm socks he bought Sam in the hospital store. Sam's feet get cold quickly, so if they're planning to go for a little trip outside, socks are mandatory.

Dean is halfway through the first sock, when Sam asks:

"Dean, why I don't remember Hell?"

Dean stops and looks up at Sam.

"I don't know, Sammy." - he lies. "Why you ask? Isn't that a good thing?"

Sam hesitates for a moment before he answers:

"I can't remember anything from downstairs. I don't dream about it. When I think about a hundred years in a Cage with Lucifer, I see nothing at all."

"Sam..."

"I think my mind ejected the memories" - adds Sam bitterly. "But my body remembers it all."

OOO

Dean leaves the hospital for forty-five minutes, only to go to Bobby's, take a shower, make a quick loundry and pack clean clothes for Sam.

Sam was always the drama queen, so of course something happens when Dean is not there.

He knows it at once when he returns to the Neurology Unit, just by the look on nurses faces when he steps in.

"What's wrong?" - Dean demands, his mother-hen instincts go high-wire.

"Mr. Winchester, your brother had a seizure." - explained nurse Audrey. "He is okay now, he is safe. Doctor Caldwell is with him."

Dean doesn't waste the time to thank her, just goes straight to Sam's room.

"Sammy." - gasps Dean, approaching to his bed. "Sammy, you okay?"

Sam's face is pale and he is clearly exhausted, but looks at Dean and nods reassuringly.

"Hello Mr. Winchester" - interjects dr Caldwell. "Sam is doing fine, I assure you, but it would be best if we let him rest a bit. Seizures often result in fatigue and sleepness. Please, come with me to my office and there I will answer all your questions."

"Sammy, you will be okay buddy?" - asks Dean, needing to be sure that Sam feels safe. "Because I can stay if you like."

"Go" - mutters Sam, closing his eyes.

"You will sleep tightly?"

"Uhum."

"Okay man. I will be right back."

OOO

They say that Sam have epilepsy. They told him there are two types of seizures: a petit mal, called also an absent seizure, and that is not a big deal. Sam will most probably just stare off into space, unaware of his sorrundings for a few seconds and then return to normal. But a grand mal seizure is a whole different story altogether. Grand mal equals unconsciousness, convulsions, bitten tongue, loss of bladder and bowel control, headache. This is what happened to Sam when Dean was gone.

They also say that Sam will most probably not get much better. Nothing indicates that at least. Yes, of course it is possible that he will be able to sit without helping, but walking, even with leg braces – unlikely. Situation with swallowing may also ameliorate, and then the NG tube can be taken out. If Sam's health remains stable, they will release him home soon. Is Dean going to be his caretaker? There are courses in patient care in the hospital, if he feels like he needs it. No, they didn't imply that he doeasn't know how to care for his brother. They also recommend to buy a sufficient supply of disinfectants, oitments, bed pads, diapers and other stuff that paralyzed people need. And a wheelchair, of course.

Dean tries to listen to all of this, but it's all muffled and fuzzy, like a distant memory, like it's happening to someone else, and not them. He finally realizes that it's gonna be like a hunt.

But this time they will have to battle eating, dressing, using the bathroom and having seizures instead of monsters and supernatural.