After spending all night stressing over the big escape, it ended up being too easy. Cas pushed him outside, Mom brought around her car, and they were gone. Dean almost felt bad. The nurses had been nice, and Doc Choi had done his best, but Dean was damn happy to be home. He didn't even protest much when Cas had to carry him down the stairs and into the library, although he was glad that Mom had gone ahead so that nobody else saw that indignity. In fact, Dean had spent so much time thinking about getting here, he hadn't thought about what was next.

Cas had put him into one of the hard, wooden chairs and he'd wedged himself between the tabletop and the arm rest to avoid sliding out onto his ass. Mom, Bobby and Cas were sitting across from him trying to act casual, but he'd been in interrogations that felt less tense. It didn't help that Rowena was lurking in the doorway. They had moved Sam to his room, and she was spending most of her time there keeping an eye on him.

"So," he said. "Where's Jack? I wanna get this show on the road." He also wanted a beer, the ability to take a leak on his own, and to get his brother back, but one thing at a time.

"I'm here." Jack's voice carried from behind him, and Dean twisted a little to see him. That was a mistake, and he began to slip a little in the chair. Cas reached out to him, but Jack got to him first, gripping his bicep above his cast and pushing him back into the seat just enough that Dean could stabilize himself.

"Hey Jack," Dean said to the kid as he sat down beside him. "You up for this?" Jack looked a little pale and feverish, but he met Dean's question with his usual serious expression.

"I don't have a lot of experience with healing people, but yes, I am ready." He could have sounded more confident for Dean's taste, but it's not like he had a lot of options here. If Jack couldn't fix him, he could be an invalid for the rest of his life.

"Dean, uh, Jack and I have been practicing, but we don't know for sure that this will work or if it will take more than one session." Cas had that wrinkly forehead he got when he was worried, but Dean affixed a confident smile on his face. Sometimes you had to fake being okay to make sure everyone else was good.

"I get it, guys. I trust you Jack, and anything you can do to help will be great."

With a determined nod, the kid reached out a hand towards his forehead. Dean chose to ignore the slight tremble he saw and closed his eyes. Here goes nothing, he thought.

"I'm just going to take a look at the damage first," Jack whispered, close enough that Dean could feel the kid's breath on his face. Jack's fingertips touched Dean's head and he kept still, trying to relax. At first, he didn't think anything was happening. Then he felt a sort of warm tingling throughout his body. It was different than when Cas healed him. When Cas did it, it was sudden, like getting splashed with water that went from icy to boiling then gone in a blink. But this felt like energy flowing through him, mapping every vein and blood vessel, right down to the cellular level. It didn't hurt, in fact it was kind of pleasant, like the way sunshine warms your skin.

"Okay, I see what needs to be done." Jack shifted a little closer and Dean could smell his hair, the same fruity, girly shampoo that Sam liked to use. The warm tingling seemed to speed up, rushing through him like water down-hill until it stopped. The sensation got hotter and hotter until Dean felt like he was going to combust. He was on fire, burning alive, Jack was killing him. Instinctively he jerked his head to get away from Jack's fingers and the heat abated as quickly as it had come leaving him feeling sweaty and shaky. He opened his eyes to find his family staring at him. Jack in particular looked a little panicked, his hand still hovering in the air between them.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Are you okay?" the kid asked. Dean didn't trust his voice but after a quick triage he nodded. His arms felt fine, normal and good. He wiggled his fingers and there was no pain of any kind. Shrugging out of the shoulder sling with ease, he gripped the edge of the table, pleased that he had regained not only the movement, but most of his strength. His ribs also felt much better. There was only a slight twinge when he twisted, and it was easier to breathe. It wasn't until he tried to wiggle his toes that he realized that he still couldn't feel his legs.

"Dean, how do you feel?" Mom asked anxiously.

"A lot better," he responded with a forced cheeriness he didn't feel. He wiped his brow and tried to hide his disappointment. "My arms work great, but uh, I still can't feel my legs." Jack hung his head, and Dean slapped his hand on Jack's back. "Hey, kid. It's okay, you did good." What else could he say? It wasn't Jack's fault that he'd gotten hurt, and it wasn't the teen's responsibility to fix him.

"I can try again," he offered earnestly, but Dean shook his head. Jack looked beat, pale and kind of drawn, like the effort had taken a lot out of him.

"Look, why don't we get some rest, and you can try to finish the rest tomorrow. Like Cas said, it doesn't have to be done all at once, right?" He looked to the angel for confirmation and Cas nodded.

"Yes, we can have another session tomorrow after you've rested, okay?" Standing, Cas encouraged Jack to get to his feet and led him towards the hallways. He shot an apologetic glance over his shoulder towards Dean as they left.

"Oh honey…" Mom began after they'd moved out of earshot, but Dean stopped her.

"No. No, it's fine." He waved away her concern. "There are bigger priorities than my legs right now." She clearly didn't buy his stoic act but was kind enough not to call him on it. Smacking his cast on the table to crack it made everyone jump, but he just dug his fingers underneath and broke it open. At least he could have his arm back. Bobby cleared his throat.

"Well, I didn't want to jinx things, but just in case, I went ahead and made a few minor renovations." He got up and met Rowena at the doorway. The witch had disappeared for a moment, but now was standing with an ancient wheelchair from the infirmary. Bobby gestured towards the floor. "It's just temporary, and they ain't perfect, but I put in a few ramps so that you could get around if you needed to." Dean appreciated the older man's forethought even as he dreaded having to use the chair like a damn cripple. Pushing the chair closer, Bobby maneuvered it so that Dean could leverage himself into the contraption, locking the wheels for stability.

"Thanks Bobby, this is...helpful." It was a lame compliment, but Dean wasn't feeling very complimentary right now.

"Mary, why don't you go see what we've got to fix some dinner? Rowena, don't you have somewhere else to be?" Bobby efficiently dismissed the women. Mom headed towards the kitchen and Rowena flounced away towards the bedrooms.

"Well, I'll be keeping an eye on my spell and our dear, dead Samuel," Rowena threw the comment over her shoulder. It may have seemed insensitive, but her remark helped Dean put his present predicament into perspective. There were worse things than not having use of his legs, a dead brother being number one on that list. With Bobby's help he awkwardly struggled into the chair. Having use of his arms meant he didn't fall on his face, but he was still pleased that he only had the older man as an audience.

"Thanks Bobby," he said again, this time in a more agreeable fashion. The grizzled hunter squeezed his shoulder.

"No problem, boy. Now I better make sure your mother doesn't burn the place down. She's a hell of a hunter, but a terrible cook!" Bobby lowered his voice conspiratorially for that last part.

Suddenly alone in the familiar surroundings, Dean relaxed a little. Someone had obviously cleaned up, scrubbing the blood and ash from the floor. It felt like home, and he could handle his physical limitations, at least for now. Priority one was getting Sam back. Wheeling over to the little bar fridge, he pulled out a cold beer and twisted off the cap. Downing the first few gulps, he felt more like himself. He tucked the bottle between his hip and the chair and wheeled over to the ramp headed towards Sam's bedroom.

He knocked lightly on the open door in order not to startle Rowena. It was strange to see someone else sitting at Sam's desk. She was writing in a journal, a bronze bowl was over to one side, steaming with a magical glow. Tucking her pen into her book, she swiveled to acknowledge his arrival.

"Ah, Dean. I assume you've come to manfully weep over Sam's body." He ignored her snark; he wasn't in the mood to banter.

Dean wheeled as close as he could get to the bed where Sam was laid out. It was excruciating to see him like this. Jack had healed Sam's body before Dean got home, so the horrible puncture wound and the blood was gone. Someone, and he hoped it had been Cas, had changed his brother's shirt. In the dim light, he could almost pretend that Sam was just sleeping, but there was a laxity to his face that was out of place. He had watched Sammy sleep since he was child, through injuries and illnesses, through grief and loss, and through bone weary exhaustion. Even unconscious, Sam never looked so limp and lifeless. Of course, right now he literally was lifeless.

He held out his hand and hovered it over Sam's chest. The spell Rowena was using to keep his brother's flesh and bone from decaying stung his palm like an electrical current, but Dean relished the mild ache that crept up his arm. It helped to keep him from acknowledging how hopeless he was feeling. If it weren't for Rowena's magic and whatever was sparking in her bronze bowl, Sam would be nothing more than rotting meat.

"Jack healed his injuries." Rowena said quietly. "Right now, his physique is in perfect condition." Dean didn't bother to answer her, reluctantly pulling his hand back to drop listlessly into his lap. He wasn't about to share his worries and doubts with Rowena, even though she was legitimately helping. She sighed as she stood. "I'll give you a bit of privacy," she said. And with that she retreated from the room.

According to Jody's message, Sam - the part that was truly him - was safe with her. He glanced at his watch. If their flight was on time, his brother would be home in a couple of hours. There really was no point in sitting here, but for some reason he couldn't pull his eyes away from Sam's body. Maybe it was because they'd gotten lucky, again. Billie had told him that they were important, but he'd never imagined that she would go so far out of her way to save a Winchester. It was lucky, but that kind of luck didn't hold. It had a way of going sour and biting them all in the ass.

He wiped a hand down his face and rested his chin in his fist. It reminded him that he needed to shave and should probably be catching some shuteye like Mom had suggested. When she'd picked up Jody's message they were already in the air. Cas had offered to go pick them up and as much as Dean wanted to go with him, Mom and Cas had convinced him to stay and get some rest. He'd capitulated easily. Not that he wasn't tired and stressed, but what truly had made him back down was a niggling fear. What if Sam wasn't really himself? What if Billie was screwing with them, exacting a little payback by leaving a part of Sammy behind? Dean couldn't deal with that, not again. Shaking his head, he tried to brush off his melancholy and have a little faith. His brother was on his way home and together they'd figure out a way to fix this, just like they always did. With a last look at Sam, he rolled over to the door. He needed a stiff drink and to get away from the bleak view of his brother's corpse.

"I'll see you soon Sammy," he promised.

AN: Okay, considering how low-powered Cas was maybe it's a stretch to have him carry Dean, but Cas was still a reasonably large guy, so we're going to go with it. Also, my brother once broke out of his plaster cast by cracking on the table and then pulling it apart. You can't do that with the fibreglass ones, but with plaster it really is possible! And finally apologies for the "cripple" slur. It's not a word I would normally use, but it's one Dean has used in the past.