Chapter 28 ~ Together We Fall

Another night came and went.

Dean was impatient. – and was becoming more and more agitated, as nothing had changed so far. Sam would tense up as soon as he crept under the covers next to him, would gather him in his arms.

Sam looked more and more awful by the passing day. Weaker with every hour.

The entire thing – if it even was working – took way too long, and Dean was considering to just wait it out until Sam was weak enough to get him hooked on IVs and force-feed him with a damn tube.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

Dean was losing hope that there was even the tiniest of possibilities to wiggle into someone as pig-headed as Sam.

Nonetheless, here he was, lying in the cramped space of his own bed, spooning Sam, one arm under his head, the other wrapped around Sam's middle, holding him close, flat palm on his stomach, feeling him breathe evenly.

First, Dean didn't notice it. Not at all. The relaxed muscles, the soft breaths ghosting over his lower arm, where Sam's head rested on.

"If you are going to do it. Just do it.", Sam's voice bled into Dean's brain. "You can't hurt me anymore."

Dean swallowed. Kept his eyes closed, his palm fluttering over Sam's stomach towards his chest. A feather-light touch turning into a reassuring pressure.

"I won't do anything.", Dean whispered, "That's not what this's 'bout. – I want you to just … feel."

Sam shifted, pressing into the body behind him - just a little.

"I want you to feel, that this's real. That THIS is different." Dean breathed in. "That there's nothing coming for you."

Sam didn't say anything else.

Dean didn't either.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

When Dean woke, there were hands holding onto his. Long fingers entangled with Dean's. Warm body pressed tight into him. In a way, that filled him with warmth, reaching down into his very core. In a way, he hadn't felt in a long time.

Dean didn't leave that morning.

He stayed.

He stayed as long as it took for Sam to wake up and withdraw from him.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

Evening came early.

And despite, that it was only quarter past seven, Dean headed to his bedroom and went to lay with Sam.

Somewhen during the night, Dean woke slowly.

Soft hot puffs of air were catching in the fabric of his shirt, right above his heart. Hair was tickling his nose with every intake of air. A weight was resting across his side.

Dean sniffed and scrunched his nose up. He shifted his head and body. Sam went with it, adjusting to him. Sam angled his upper leg along Dean's, pulling it up, nudging against and between Dean's.

The watcher-angel went rigid, when Sam's knee came up between his thighs, touching him THERE.

Dean held his breath, his eyes opened wide.

It took him a few seconds to come up with an idea on how to get out of this situation without waking Sam.

So, he slipped with his arm under the covers, and pushed Sam's knee down – a couple of inches. Only to have it come back up to where it had been before. Sweatpants rubbing along the cotton of his boxers in right the fucking angle to make his lower department react to the friction.

This couldn't be happening.

He'd so not would get any shuteye tonight.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

Dean did not fall asleep again – at least not for another couple of hours, until Sam shifted again and turned back onto his other side, pushing his butt right up against Dean's groin.

When Bobby sat with Sam that day, his son would steal curious glances at him, would give him fast once-overs, assessed him.

Not that Bobby called him out on him, or tried to lure him out in any way. – As hard as it was, he followed Dean's suggestion to not push and pry and just let everything go its way.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

The next morning, when Dean left Sam, he went straight for the kitchen.

"Any milk left?", he asked his dad, who was sitting at the table with warm oatmeal, as he rummaged through the fridge.

"Nope. – But there's apple-juice somewhere.", John answered and rubbed his left thigh where he had been wounded. "He doin' any better? – Bobby told me; he seems more … aware?"

"Sam is." Dean answered with a groan. Disappointed that there was no milk left.

"Sure, Cesar and Jesse bring some with. – Should be back before nightfall.", John perked up from over his bowl, his eyes lightening up. "That for Sam?"

"Yep.", Dean pursed his lips. Eying the contents of the fridge some more. "Eggs?"

"No eggs." John leaned back and reached for his cane.

Dean groaned again. He was looking for something with proteins – though easy to digest. Something that wasn't as solid as meat.

"Noodles?" If not proteins, he'll go with carbohydrates.

Then again … as bad as he wanted to stuff Sam full with food until he'd burst, he reconsidered his choice of food. He should stay with liquids.

"Wait here. I'll be right back.", John pulled himself up, and limped hastily out of the kitchen before Dean could put up a veto.

When John came back, he had something like a can clamped down in his armpit, and a small dark-brown and silver package of something in his hand.

Dean gave him a curious look.

John limped over and placed both items on the counter next to his son, an excited expression on his face.

Coffee creamer and a bar of chocolate.

"Hot chocolate.", he said, beaming at his son.

"You sure?" Dean hesitated. "If he's … Maybe he won't even look at it."

"He will. – No one doesn't like hot chocolate." John seemed to think for a moment. "Besides … it's basically artificial contents, so …"

"Nice." Dean went to get a pot to heat up water.

When the water was hot, he added the chocolate, stirring and waiting for it to dissolve. When there were no chunks left, he added a rich amount of whitener in and stirred until everything was mingled.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

Back in Room 11 …

Sam staggered out of the bathroom, smacking his dry lips and rubbing over his tired face. Heavy eye-lids daring to slid closed and pull him into unconsciousness.

Despite that he felt cold, there was a warmth deep down inside his guts. The warm embrace of content and certainty that he wouldn't last all that long anymore.

It felt so familiar to the comfort Dean gave him – not his partner Dean, but the not-real-Dean – had offered those past nights. It felt good – somehow – even when he knew it wasn't real, and that he was not where he thought he was.

He had considered giving in last night. He had thought about how this wasn't bad at all, allowing himself to give into his weakness for a little while.

If he would die, he may would be allowed to do so while sleeping, while feeling the offered comfort fake-Dean was providing him with.

Sam knew that he wouldn't drop dead just now. He wouldn't drop dead tomorrow either. But he knew that – the awareness about his surrounding, of his body were fading – and that it was a process to die of dehydration.

A painful – agonizingly slow – process.

He'd deal with it anyway. He knew – he was close to passing out. His mind would shut down sooner as his body would. He'd have troubles memorizing things, remembering things. He may would become confused at some point.

So, he reminded himself, that the most important thing was, to not give in. To never give in. No matter in which condition he may be.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

Dean placed the warm hot chocolate on the nightstand and sat down at the edge of the bed.

Sam sat curled up against the headboard, looking utterly stricken, stealing a lingering glance at Dean, when the mattress tipped.

Dean didn't look at him. At first. "It's different, isn't it?", Dean asked softly, "From … when you've been with Asmodeus."

Silence.

Dean didn't really await a response. "You feel it, don't you? – That … that this is real. Right? That I'm real. – At least …" He still wouldn't look at him.

"No." Sam now looked at him, surveying him, obviously waiting for something – anything.

Dean looked up at him. "You think, I'm gonna do something, if you tell me that?" Now Dean was assessing Sam.

"Yes." Sam's eyes narrowed. "I think so."

"What do you think will happen?", Dean asked.

"You know." Sam tilted his head to the side. "What you are going to do."

"So … you're waitin' for the other shoe to drop?", Dean asked, his eyes narrowing too.

"Pretty much.", Sam answered, sucking in his lower lip and biting down on it.

"It won't." Dean thrust his jaw forward and licked over his teeth, under his lips. "There's no shoe to drop."

"I don't think you got that one right.", Sam retorted. "We aren't in the pit. If I die, you can't put me back together. I know that. So, if I die, I'm dead. – For good. It's permanent."

"I don't want you to die.", Dean said, the words burning sour on his tongue. "Period."

"Tough shit.", Sam murmured, his eye-lids becoming heavy again, as if they were weighing a ton.

"Is there … nothing? Really nothing, that could make you possibly believe that you're here? With me? In the bunker? For real?"

"No." Sam exhaled an audible breath.

"We actually don't have time for this, you know? – You're dehydrated. You've gone without liquids for … hell, I don't know for how long. – And I don't want to strap you down and put you on IV's if it's not necessary. But. – If you don't – at least – start drinkin' I will. And you damn well know I can do that."

Sam pried his eyes open. "'s that a threat?"

"It's a promise, Sammy." Dean pursed his lips. A pause. "If you believe it or not. You're out. And I won't let some demon-douche get the better of you." Another pause. "If I were what you think I am, I wouldn't have to talk to you about this, would I?"

Sam seemed to ponder that for a long moment. "Probably not." He blinked. "But you could be playing me."

"Why would a demon play with you in this kind of way? – Wouldn't a demon rather torture you? Taking away from you what has happened those past couple of nights? – Would a demon let you feel that? Period? Wouldn't it rather … take it away from you when you least expect it? Would it grant you feeling safe for such a long amount of time? Repeatedly?"

"Maybe.", Sam had to admit. He also had to admit, that this was one hell of a long-drawn hallucination. But then again … Maybe that was the point?

"Look . – You're a damn stubborn bitch. I know that. But this? Here?" Dean gestured around the room. "It's the wrong call to make. Asmodeus drugged you with some venom and … it's designed to … to either kill or brainwash, make your brain all gooey and mix up shit."

"You're a smart guy. Think about it." Dean added before leaving Sam on his own again.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

When Dean came back late that night, the glass was empty, cleaned, and filled with water.

He followed the procedure like all the nights before. He'd crawl under the covers, would tug Sam in, but this time, Sam reached for Dean's hand the very moment he wrapped his arm around his middle and squeeze it.

"I take it.", Dean murmured, "You've been thinking about it?"

"I did.", Sam answered.

"So, what do you think?" It was a legit question. After all, Dean needed to know what was going on in that brain of his.

"I'm not sure yet." Sam's answer came out hesitating.

Dean hummed. "What does that mean?" … do I have to strap you down and hook you on IV's was the actual question.

"I'll wait. And see.", he answered. … until the other shoe drops. Because he was pretty sure, that Asmodeus had used a knife on him. Had carved his name into Sam's skin. And ever since he's woken up, the marks were gone – as if it had never happened.

Dean would be able to live with that – for now.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

When Dean came into the kitchen the next day, there sat a tray on the kitchen-table. Two glasses of milk and one that looked a lot like hot chocolate – and even smelled like it.

Dean took it and brought it into Sam's room. But he didn't stay.

Instead, he went to see Bobby, who already was up and about and translating the tablet's decoding Charlie was onto, in the map's room.

"You look like crap, boy.", Bobby stated, when he caught eye on Dean, who was shuffling towards them.

"Thanks, I guess."; Dean murmured into his mug.

"So. – When's Mister tall-guy joining us?", Charlie chirped over her laptop, addressing Dean.

Dean made a disapproving sound. He was no morning-person. Had never been. And definitely would never be.

"So … what about the tablet?", he asked and took a sip from the coffee.

"Not much further than yesterday.", Charlie grumbled.

"How much of it did Asmodeus get to see?", he asked.

"Everyone could've had a look at it. The translations and everything … it was accessible at any time to everyone.", Charlie answered. "So … about the half of it?"

"And that half … what does it say?", he asked further.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Well … not much so far. – It's complicated. But … there are some passages about Purgatory itself. Who gets there, about Leviathans, that … there can be rifts created between our world and theirs …" News they didn't know so far.

No one knew how the Leviathans got here and what exactly they were.

"Somethin' about how to kill them? Except for chopping their heads off and burry them?" That would actually be something useful. So far they had been lucky as they had not really come across one. But other hunters had. And the few that survived encounters with those beasts, hadn't any information about them.

Only said, that they were absolutely fatal, and that nothing worked on them.

"So … Asmodeus has as much information about them as we have. practically nothing …", Dean thought out loud.

"Yeah. – But now he knows where the tablet is.", Bobby stated.

"BUT he can't get in.", Charlie sang, "We've powered up the warding, inside and out. – And they're not touchable for demons anymore. So, he can't break them."

Dean nodded to himself, then rubbed over his face. "Do we have anything new on demon-activities? Angels?", he asked further, needing to catch up with what he had missed the last couple of days.

Charlie shook her head, red locks falling into her face. "Nothing so far. – But news don't travel that fast … so … Maybe – if Sam told Asmohole about where to find the Angel-tablet …" She shrugged. "You know, maybe we won't ever know if someone has it."

"I know … I know …", Dean grumbled and groaned. "So … since Asmodeus didn't let dad see anything about the possible location we've squat on this one too."

"If the tablet is where Sam told them. – Maybe he's been … lying?", Bobby half answered, half asked.

"I can't ask him about that yet. – He … not as long as he doesn't know that … that this' real …" Dean scrunched up his nose. "He won't tell us anyway as long as he thinks I'm fucking with him."

Tense silence.

"When did they schedule the gathering for today?" Dean spoke up after emptying his mug.

He earned questioning gazes from Bobby and Charlie.

Bobby cleared his throat. "At five. – Why? You considering goin' there?"

Dean shrugged. "Dad can't, and we need information. Maybe someone knows something that's not gotten around via hunter's radio – At Harvelle's?"

Bobby nodded, but didn't seem to approve. "You sure?" … what about Sam?

"I'll be back in time." And to be honest, Dean needed to get out. … he'll be fine. I'll be back before he notices.

He needed to drive, get his head cleared out, wipe the board clean.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

Around noon, Bobby went to sit with his son, carrying his share of goat's milk.

Once inside, he placed the glass on the nightstand.

"Hey, Sam.", Bobby greeted him. "How're you doin' son?"

Sam watched him cautiously. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doin' what?", he asked and cocked a bushy eyebrow at his son.

"This. – All of it."

Bobby could practically feel his kid's scrutinizing looks bore into his head. "Because I care."

"My mind could be making you up." Sam frowned.

Bobby wasn't sure if he's been supposed to hear this, or if Sam deliberately had said it out loud.

"You were always too much of a thinker, boy.", Bobby grumbled gruffly. "Questioning everything and everyone … Always too damn stubborn for your own good."

"I'm sorry …", Sam murmured and looked aside, fixing the covers with his gaze. "I really am …" Looking, as if he was trying to solve a 5000 pieces puzzle in his mind within thirty seconds.

Bobby sighed; his shoulders slumped. "Balls."

"Look … Sam … that ain't easy on me.", he said regretfully. "You're here … and at the same time you're somehow not. Thinkin' I'm not real." Bobby drew in a shuddering breath. "I know you. I know you won't believe a word I say. – But. I tell you that, son: 'm ain't gonna give up on 'ya because some asshole-demon fucked your brains up."

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

Dean left the bunker for the monthly gathering.

Of course, he was well aware of the fact, that he had a giant target painted on his back as soon as he'd leave the bunker, since Asmodeus had gotten away.

Though, it seemed like the demon was a loner – probably had only less followers he would trust enough to fill them in on where to find the tablet.

Because as it was, demons were easy.

They always aimed for the goal – always working on standing out. Satisfying their king and crawling up the greasy pole.

Other than that, Asmodeus had to find a new vessel. What wasn't all that difficult. – He probably had to regroup.

Only thing he needed to do was, to be careful out there. He would have taken his dad with him, but since the old man was wounded, he'd be of no use and probably a liability when it would come down to a fight.

Since the gatherings never took place at the same destination, day, nor time, he was pretty sure (not really, but a hunter was supposed to hope right?) that everything would work out just fine.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

"I … I'd like to believe you, you know?", Sam said, when Bobby was about to get out of the chair with stiff limps.

Bobby gave him a sad smile. "I know, son." He cleared his throat. "And I understand that you can't. – Not right away." Sam looked so lost. – Like the way when he had still been a kid. When he was unsure what to do. It reminded him so much of the time, short after when he had rescued Sam back in Poughkeepsie.

"I'll check in on you later?", Bobby offered. "I gotta translate the decoding. – Everyone's waitin' for results."

Sam couldn't possibly say no to that hopeful expression on his – probably – fake-dad's face.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

Sam sighed. Pursed his lips. Then his forehead creased.

He reached for his temple and his face scrunched up in discomfort.

It wasn't like he had forgotten how the forewarnings of a Vision were like … he had figured, that since this was all in his head … there was no possibility for him to have one.

Sam gasped, already feeling a distant sting behind his eyes. A strong sensation of him moving through water. A faint pull in his chest.

Before Sam knew it, his vision flickered, shifted and …

… he finds himself in front of Harvelle's Roadhouse.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~