A/N:

There is going to be quite some talking in this chapter … Sorry if that's uncool.

Chapter 31 ~ Savior

Dean had decided to try and heal Sam as good as he possibly could. Which resulted in holding him together with needles, pins and staples at the inside.

At least, so, Sam had a chance to survive this.

The next morning, Castiel, Cesar and Jesse returned with a group of hunters to the bunker, who had decided to adhere to the bunker's pack.

Garth, Ellen, Jo and Ash got their rooms close to Charlie's, while Dean decided to keep a well-chosen amount of distance between Thomas' and Marcus' men to Room 11 and 21.

Even though they were filled in on what was going on, and who Sam was – more or less – since they wouldn't possibly be able to hide the demon-blood-thing and a pair of black-eyes among them, Dean felt uneasy about these men.

It wasn't like he didn't think that he couldn't rely on them, or that he respected them as hunters. Hell, they've been out there together more than only once. And each and every one of them had his back, and he had theirs.

But he didn't trust them with Sam. At least not after he had seen their reactions to when John had told them, that they had a special member added to the bunker's pack.

Dean couldn't really blame them either. – They didn't know Sam how he got to know him. They didn't know, that there was nothing evil about him, and that he would never – Dean was all but sure about that – hurt someone human if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

Dean was sitting in the chair beside Sam's bed.

The chair was pulled up close and far up, so it made contact with the iron-bed, in a position, which allowed him to have unlimited access to Sam.

He had repositioned Sam onto his side a while ago, so he was facing him, the arm with the vein catheter peeking out from the covers. His hand on Sam's, subconsciously, rubbing circles into it with his thump.

"Dude. We so are gonna talk about this, when you wake up." … because he wouldn't allow Sam to not wake up. "What were you even thinking? – Going all psychic on me." He wasn't really mad at Sam. Dean well knew, that he – and his friends – most likely wouldn't have made it out of there without Sam's guidance. But that didn't mean, that he didn't feel bad about it

"We so need to set up some lines, when it comes to saving each other's asses.", he added, his look glued to Sam's face.

There was a difference between safely risking their lives for save each other, and knowingly going into a situation where it meant one of them was doomed to die.

Yes, the border was a thin one, and maybe not always clearly visible, but this? Sam had overstepped the border generously.

Sam must've knows what it would do to him. He should have stopped before it got him into the condition he was in right now.

It was still touch and go.

But Sam looked better.

Instead of ashen, he was left with a faint pale, his cheeks colored in a faint rose.

He even wasn't a s cold anymore.

"Saved you, Jerk." The words saturated Dean's mind slowly and it took him a moment to realize that someone – Sam – was talking to him.

A spark of happiness crossed Dean's face. "Sammy?", he asked.

Sam's eyes were closed, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He murmured something unintelligibly slurred.

"What was that?" Dean leaned in, his ear so close to Sam's lips, they nearly brushed.

"'said … what 'bout others?", Sam tried again and it took Dean quite some time to figure out what he was asking.

"Some made it out.", he answered silently. "How are you?"

"Tired.", Sam slurred.

Dean leaned back in the chair with a relieved smile and squeezed Sam's hand gently. "Bet you are, Bitch. – Go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up again."

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

Dean didn't leave his side except for visits to the bathroom.

Bobby came by too, trying to coax Dean to get some rest and to not sleep in the chair, arguing with him, that it hadn't to be the both of them sitting with Sam.

But Dean declined.

He eventually decided to crash and sleep in the other bed at some point – and only then, when Bobby was around and sitting with his son.

Dean practically lived in the Infirmary. Eating, sleeping and everything else that didn't need to be done anywhere else, happened right there.

It took Sam an entire day to wake up again – and only for a couple of minutes. He even had opened his eye briefly, and way too short for Dean's liking.

Though, it was more than he had hoped for. And as it seemed, Sam was on the mend.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

Sam's episodes of consciousness where he was coherent enough to have a talk with him became longer. Though, he still looked sick and everything but okay.

"I wanna sit up.", Sam murmured, his hand brushing up from his side to come to rest on his stomach. His movements sluggish and slow.

Sam stood Dean's scrutinizing look.

"Please." Huge puppy-dog-eyes blinked at him under long lashes.

Dean hesitated.

Sam laid a bit of hurt into his look.

"Fine." Dean frowned at him doubtfully. "You're tellin' me as soon as it gets too much. Understand?"

"No idiot, Dean.", Sam grumbled.

"No. You're no idiot. But you're stubborn as fuck.", he pointed out and rose from the chair.

He helped Sam with his legs, guiding them out of the bed and supported his upper body with a tight and though gentle grip on his shoulder.

"You good?", Dean asked cautiously, watching Sam closely for any signs of his circulatory system going to check out on him.

Sam gave him a shaky nod, swaying slightly in his sitting position.

"You sure?" Because Dean wasn't.

Sam nodded again. His shoulder hunched over, so was his head.

Dean reached for Sam's chin and dipped it up, so that he was looking forward instead to the ground.

"Eyes straightforward, Sammy.", he reminded him.

Sam stared at the far wall, sucking in a deep shaky breath. And another one.

"You okay over there?" Dean pursed his lips, noticing a fine sheen of sweat crawling over Sam's forehead and face. The faint rose from his cheeks replaced by white.

No answer, was answer enough for him.

"Okay. – That's it. Lay back down." And before Sam could even think about protesting, he found himself back in bed. Legs propped up on a pillow, covered and tugged in with the covers.

"I can-", Sam spoke up.

"No, you can't.", Dean told him with a warning glare. "We'll try again tomorrow."

Sam made a sound of disapproval in his throat. "After lunch."

"Tomorrow.", Dean fixed him with his glare.

"Lunch.", Sam insisted, not looking like a beaten puppy anymore. But glaring back at him.

"Tomorrow. No back-talk." Dean thrust his jaw forward and laid more power into his look, a spark of blue lightening up in them.

"Fine. After dinner then." Sam closed his eyes and sighed.

"Told you, you're a stubborn bitch.", Dean murmured and went back to sit in the chair.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

Sam demanded to no longer stay at the infirmary and to get back into the room he's been given the first time around in the bunker.

It wasn't only because of Sam's need to have some more privacy, but also to not have Dean around him 24/7. Sam figured the man sure had better things to do, than keeping him company.

Which obviously – and despite a whole lot of innuendos – Dean didn't seem to get into that head of his. Because he kept hovering, kept watching, stayed observant.

Plus, Sam was able to lock his room's door, in case he didn't want anyone to come in – at least he would be, as soon as he'd be able to reach it on his own.

It was embarrassing enough to need someone to help him to get into the bathroom (Those someone's were Bobby or Dean by the way, which embarrassed him even more).

About lunch-time, Dean came in, carrying a tray with food and two glasses – obviously filled with milk.

"You don't have to do that, you know?", Sam said while he sat up awkwardly at the bed and stretched his long legs, letting muscles and joints pop.

"What else am I supposed to do?", Dean asked back with a smile. "Can't let you starve now, can I?"

"I'm not talking about bringing me food. I'm talking about giving me extra-rations. – And milk.", Sam waved at the tray when Dean approached him.

Dean eyed the plate with eggs, dried meat, butter and bread. – Asking himself if it was truly that obvious.

"No way there's as much milk available for one person as you are bringing me."

"Dude. – Look at you." Dean placed the tray on the nightstand and waved at him. "You're lookin' like a damn stickman about to break in half."

"'m not. You're dramatizing." Sam sniffed and reached for one of the glasses with a shaky hand.

"'m not." Dean scowled at him. "Besides. – There's not only me giving my shares to you, Sam. – Outside that door, there's a whole bunch of people damn thankful for getting out of there alive."

Sam looked up at him, his expression turning sour. "So, they know. You told them." He made a face. Looking utterly pissed. "About me?"

Dean shrugged. "Why not? It's not like it has to be that big of a secret anymore, has it? – You saved quite some lives out there. Including mine. – And to do so, You've been risking yours. They deserve to know about it."

"I want to set something straight: No one owes me anything. Not you. Not the hunters out there.", Sam told him annoyed. "I've had the Vision. Everything else was your friends."

"We both know that's not true." Dean didn't sit down, instead he walked over to the table, leaned against it and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Right? – I mean … we haven't talked about it so far. – But I am damn sure it was you telling me where to go." Dean gave him a demanding look. "That's why you're in this condition. 'cause I've been there when you've had visions. You pass out, and have one hell of a headache afterwards. No nosebleeds, no puking blood all over yourself. – And don't tell me that I'm wrong. 'Cause I've had a lot of time to think about what happened at the roadhouse and in the woods."

"No. you're not wrong. – I thought I could feel you. I've tried to reach out to you. – I wasn't sure at first .. but I hoped it'd work." Sam sighed heavily. "It's not like I planned on this to happen." Sam looked down on himself.

"Why is it so hard for you to accept, that someone cares about you? Huh? – I get it. You've never been best buddies with hunters. Fine. – But things change. People change." Dean explained calmly. "Bobby's different. I'm different. – Why can't you just … reconsider?"

"Because I'm nothing that's supposed to be cared about, Dean. – Don't you get it? It doesn't matter what I do, or what I don't do. There's nothing to reconsider."

"Oh well, you wanna tell Bobby 'bout it?" Dean pushed away from the table. "'Cause he damn well cares. I do too. He's been devasted after … Asmodeus. It hurt him to see you suffer." Dean pointed towards the closed door. "And yes. I've told them about you and your Visions and that we're going to rid the world of every single Jefferson Starship out there. – If you like it or not. These people owe you their lives. They know it. And they want to repay something to you. And since there's not a lot in this world left to thank someone with, they try it with food."

Sam gave him weird look. "Jefferson Starships? Really?"

"'cause they're horrible and hard to kill." Dean gives him a smug grin. "Anyway. Don't change the topic, Sam."

Sam placed the glass back on the tray. His eyes softened and he shook his head.

"I don't want you to think that I'm not thankful, okay? – For … for getting me out of the dungeon and … stuff. – It just. – I don't know. It feels weird. And I am not gonna talk about what's happened there, because I know that you know. And John knows too … and … I'm glad you obviously didn't tell Bobby." Sam sighed. "But I think. I don't deserve any of this."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at Sam, thinking. "are we still talking about the Roadhouse? – Or 'bout Poughkeepsie?"

Sam shrugged.

"So … you think you've got depths to pay. – For what happened one and a half decades ago?", he asked. "That's all over and done with, Sam."

Sam shrugged again, but his look told Dean that he was not in complete agreement.

"As long as we're at it: … I think … for what I can remember … I think I told Asmodeus about the Angel-Tablet and where to find it." He cast his look aside.

"So? – We're gonna deal with it when we cross that bridge." Dean walked over to the bed and sat down beside Sam. "He drugged you, man. – No matter what you would have tried. It wouldn't have changed a thing, and we know that."

"And John?", Sam didn't look up. "How's he dealing with it?"

Dean huffed out a breath. "Dad's a wreck, okay? – He's blaming himself for getting possessed in the first place and … for what happened in the dungeon. And yeah, I know it wasn't him. He knows that I know that. – But he's afraid that you … since Asmodeus was wearing him for prom … won't be able to deal with it – with him."

"I'm fine.", Sam said – but it was everything else but convincing. "At least I will be."

"You're a damn bad liar, you know that?", Dean nudged him with an elbow. "We both know that's something you don't deal with and forget after a couple of weeks."

"I got over it once. I will again.", he said bluntly.

There was a long-stretched silence between the both of them.

"Guess we're done with chick flicking around. – Now eat. Food's getting' warm.", Dean nudged him again and reached for the glasses. He handed one of them to Sam, then rose it and clicked them together.

"We're gonna kick these Jefferson Starships back to Purgatory.", Sam said, locking eyes with Dean. Promise?

"Hells yeah.", Dean drank from the milk. "We will." … but first you've to get better.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

"You ready?", Dean asked, when Sam stood up on shaky legs, supporting himself with one hand against the nightstand and wall.

Dean let him balance out and test his stance, his hand hoovering only inches away from Sam's back in case he wasn't. Not that Dean thought Sam wasn't able to stand up or walk on his own. Nope. He was just being careful.

"I got it Dean, okay?" Sam made a few steps towards the door. "Better get it over with."

"Dude. – You're talkin' like it's a visit at the dentist. – It's just a walk through the bunker."

Sam swayed, Dean was close to grasping his shirt, but Sam caught himself.

"I know. – But it's not like we're alone, are we? – We're gonna cross someone's path out there.", Sam pointed out.

"Yep high likely. So?", Dean asked. Of course, he knew that Sam was feeling nervous about meeting other hunters.

Hell, he's been skittish about it the entire morning. Sam had even suggested that they could take the walk later that evening, probably in hopes that there wouldn't be as many people around.

Dean had him called a coward – which had obviously done the trick. Now Sam was more than eager to get it over with and back to the room as soon as possible.

"They're gonna see me.", Sam argued.

"That's the point, man. – They know you're here, and nobody but me and Bobby's seen you so far. And it's been weeks since the Roadhouse. You can't stay in here the entire time.", Dean argued back, "that's not healthy."

"I won't stay anyway. – I don't have to make friends.", Sam protested. "I don't understand why you want me to meet them. – It's not like we'll get to know each other that well."

Dean gave him a challenging look. "You won't stay? – Where do you think you'll be going?"

"Getting the angel-tablet back.", Sam panted when he reached the door with Dean at this side.

Dean huffed out a breath. "First: You won't go all by yourself after the tablet. And second: I thought we're past that?"

"It's my fault the demons have it." Sam looked back over his shoulder, addressing Dean. "Last time we took on a yellow-eyes you barely made it out."

"Because you got out of it unharmed – and were so not kicking the bucket?" Dean stared back at him.

That shut Sam obviously up. Dean knew it wasn't quite fair to bring Dagon up – after all it was still a sensitive topic which Sam bypassed every time Dean brought it up.

As soon as they were in the corridor, Dean took care, that Sam was walking in between the wall and him.

"You're not counting on me joining you guys with lunch, are you?", Sam asked curiously. He didn't know yet what Dean Winchester was up to, but he knew there was something.

"No talkin'. – Keep walkin'." Dean gestured forward.

Sam stopped, catching his breath. "Because I won't."

"Don't be stubborn, Samantha.", Dean shot at him, "No one's gonna bite you."

"It's not about biting. You know that. – I don't feel comfortable with … anyone of them. – I'd rather stay in my room."

"Well, you won't. – We're gonna have lunch. In the map's room. With a hand full of people, I trust with my life, and then you're gonna have a nap.", Dean explained.

"I knew it. – You were playing me." Sam was about to turn back around and head back towards his room.

Dean gripped him gently and turned him back around.

"I'm not a five-year old.", Sam argued.

"Then don't act like one and lets do this." Dean tugged at Sam's bicep to make him move. "Put on your big-boy pants."

To Sam's relief, no one passed them.

When they reached the stairs leading up to the map's room, their destination was already in view. Sam swayed, reached out for the wall and caught himself just in time. Nonetheless, Dean's hands were on him for support in an instant.

Sam shrugged him off. "'m fine."

"Okay, maybe it's too much though." Dean pulled back, already regretting to talk Sam into this. They could've waited another couple of days.

"No. – 'm gonna do this." He was. Because once he got through this, Dean might would back down and not pester him anymore about meeting the others.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~

The table in the map's room was occupied by John (at the front end), Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Garth, Ash, Castiel, Charlie and two empty seats. ~ aka, the A-Team.

In the middle of the table was food. A rich amount of potato-mash, smoking, grilled meat, peas and other vegetables and fruits. Aside from that, there was also – what looked like – wine and beer.

It pretty much looked more like a feast than a usual lunch.

As soon as Sam and Dean appeared in the walk-through, the chatter stopped and they fell silent, all looks trained at the approaching men.

Once they reached the table, Sam was damn glad he could finally sit down. Dean pulled the chair beside Bobby back, making room for Sam.

Dean took the seat on his other side.

"Nice that you decided to join us.", John spoke up, wearing a tight smile.

Sam looked into the round and gave them a nod. – Not that he's had a choice, had he? Of course, and though he's been bitching about it, he was going to join them – at some point. Rather later than sooner if it was about Sam.

But it seemed utterly important to Dean, so he would have gone with it anyway. He just wished he'd have gotten a forewarning.

Sam noticed that Jesse wasn't there – maybe he and his partner hadn't gotten invited. Or, they weren't interested to sit with them – specially with Sam.

Everyone sat. stared.

"What 're we waitin' for?", Charlie chirped. Breaking the tense silence. "Food's getting cold." She stood up and went straight for the plate with meat.

They handed the plates and bowls around.

Everyone ate.

The group seemed to ease up again and started to talk after a while.

Sam listened – observant to his surroundings and what the people were saying.

Two bottles were handed to Dean. Dean opened them both and placed one beside Sam's plate.

"Eat, Sam.", Dean nudged him in the side. Then he gestured towards the bottle. "Cider."

Sam looked up – for actually the first time since he started eating.

"You sure?", he eyed Dean curiously.

When he'd asked for a beer, Dean had it denied to him, told him that he wouldn't get any alcohol, before he wasn't doing remarkably better. – That's been about two days ago.

Dean stuffed a big piece of meat into his mouth and chewed it – audibly.

Something Sam had nearly forgotten about. – Dean's eating-habits. Stuffing as much as possible into his mouth. Talking with the food in his mouth, so someone – for example Sam – could make out everything of its contents. And then, swallowing it down with an incredible amount of liquid.

"Where's Jesse?", Sam asked after a while. "Figured they'd belong here too?"

Dean helped himself to a spoon of mashed potatoes.

"Eating in their room.", Dean smiled amused as he glanced over at Sam. "They needed some alone-time." Then his amused smile turned dirty, wicked, and he wiggled with his eyebrows when he added a "desperately".

A silent "O" formed on Sam's lips at the realization that they were a pair – and not only hunting-buddies.

Dean laughed out loud, when he saw the change on Sam's face.

"Knock yourself out, Sammy." Dean chuckled and put a heap of mashed potatoes on Sam's plate despite that he haven't eaten up yet. Then he gestured towards the cider.

"Nah. 'm fine, I guess." It wasn't like he thought it was a wise Idea, not sure if he wasn't more of a lightweight at the moment. "Thanks."

After a while he decided to have the cider anyway.

Dean then told his friends about how they took out a vampire's nest, describing it vividly to them, making it sound as if Sam was the coolest guy ever born on the entire planet. Then he continued with when they were at The Hunter's Den.

He felt uncomfortable around them, and now even more, as Dean was praising him like a mad man. A lot of "You-should've-seen-Sam's …" were said, and something about "awesome right hooks".

"But Dean took Dagon out.", Sam spoke up calmly, and the table fell silent. "Back at the warehouse." He smiled at his partner with adoration. "He's the most awesomnest hunter-angel I've ever met."

Dean locked his eyes with Sam's, smiling softly back at him. There was a moment, where everything seemed to stand still, where everything fell silent and it was only the two of them.

A spark of deep abiding warmth lit up in Dean's eyes and reached out for Sam's soul.

And suddenly, the world started spinning again, and the moment was gone as fast as it had appeared.

"Awesomenest?" Dean chuckled. The most adorable dimples showing off, Sam had ever seen.

"Awesomenest.", Sam copied that. The most mesmerizing hazel-green irises lighting and gleaming back at Dean Winchester.

~*Apple Pie & Bacon*~