AN: Thanks to scootersmom and ZeldaIsis for their kind reviews.

Getting ready for bed was a routine they'd shared countless times and in short order, they'd brushed their teeth and changed. Dean struggled a little with his useless legs, but he managed. Sam did decide to change into one of Dean's shirts and it hung on him like a dress. While Sammy was changing Dean had caught a glimpse of all the bruising on Sam's torso, but hadn't commented, not wanting his brother to feel self-conscious. He'd also seen just how skinny the poor kid was. He had a serious score to settle with that Abraham jackass, but he kept that to himself. Right now, Sam was here, safe and mostly sound and it was enough to sit with his brother in the quiet dark. For a while he'd thought this was something he'd never get to do again, so he was grateful beyond belief.

The door was open just a crack, so the room was dim, lit only by the sliver of light that spilled in from the hallway. It felt cozy and comfortable, and now that they were alone, Sam had a million questions. So, Dean told him everything he could remember about how Jack had killed Michael, how Rowena and Billie had appeared, and then a little about his hospital stay. Of course, he glossed over his injuries and didn't mention his short-lived intent to off himself. He was too embarrassed to admit his weakness. Maybe he never wanted to live in a world without Sam again, but his plan to cash in his chips seemed pretty stupid now. Especially when Sam had been working so hard to get back home.

He listened as Sam shared his story, waking up in the hospital in Noah's body, getting stuck with the crazy religious people, and his long walk to call Jody. Sam glossed over the beating Abraham had given him, but Dean could read between the lines, and he had to grit his teeth to avoid swearing. The kid had been through a lot. Dean couldn't help but be impressed with just how smart and resilient his brother could be. Not that he didn't know that already. As the hour grew later, Sam had less and less to say. He was exhausted, and Dean hoped he would fall asleep, but then after a long pause, Sam spoke again.

"I don't know how you did it, Dean," he said quietly, his voice half muffled by the pillow. Dean was lying partially propped up against the headboard with Sam tucked down around his hip.

"Do what?" he asked, not following Sam's train of thought, his own mind in that drowsy stage between waking and sleep.

"When I realized that Leah was counting on me, that I was the only thing standing between her and Abraham. It was terrifying. She's just a child and I didn't have any way to shield her. If things had gotten really bad..." he paused, lost in his memories. Dean thought it sounded damn bad already, but he kept silent. Sam's voice was soft.

"When we were kids you know, somehow you always found a way to watch out for me, to make me feel safe, Dean. And you were just a kid yourself." Sam shook his head in admiration that Dean felt he didn't deserve. "I don't know how you did it over and over again."

Maybe it was the dark, or almost losing Sam for good, or maybe it was the tone in Sam's voice that made him feel emotional. Either way, Dean found he couldn't crack a joke or brush off Sam's comment. He thought for a moment before answering with a rare honesty.

"You make it sound like I was some sort of hero Sam. But the truth is...I was terrified all the time." Dean stared into the darkness as he remembered the crushing responsibility, the constant panic and the relentless stress that filled his childhood. "I was so afraid that Dad would get killed, or that the money would run out and we'd starve, or that someone would take you away." Dean swallowed hard and resisted the urge to pull Sammy closer.

"It was overwhelming, and I didn't know how to protect you from everything. And I just wanted you to be a kid for as long as you could. You deserved a better life than I could give you." So many times, when they were growing up, Sammy had been the light in his life that kept him from cracking up or slipping into despair. Keeping his brother safe felt less like a responsibility and more like a privilege, an honour he felt unworthy of considering the hardships they'd endured.

"Yeah, well...you made it look easy, and now that I've experienced a tiny bit of what that feels like… You're an amazing big brother, Dean."

The compliment soothed some long broken part of Dean, but before he let his emotions get the best of him, he cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"Hey, you need to get some sleep kiddo," he said, lightly ruffling Sam's hair. It was a little jarring because Noah's locks were finer and less curly than Sam's hair, but the way the kid ducked out from under his hand and snuggled down into the pillow was incredibly Sam-like.

Scrunching down in the bed, the boy rolled over onto his side. "'Night, Dean," he said over his shoulder.

"Goodnight Sammy."

xxxxxx

Sam thought he would fall asleep easily since he was so tired. After all, he was home, snug and secure, with his brother snoring softly right next to him. But as much as he wanted to sleep, his mind wouldn't stop racing. Would Jack have enough power to fix Dean? Would they be able to find a way to get him back into his body? What was going to happen to Leah?

Careful not to wake Dean, who was lying on top of the covers, he slipped out of bed and padded down the hall in his bare feet. Dean's t-shirt swished around him as he walked and he felt ridiculous in it, but unless he wanted to borrow one of Mom's, it probably fit better than one of his own would have. Initially, he thought he'd go in search of Cas, who was bound to be awake somewhere, but he found himself stopping outside his own bedroom door. It was open, and a light was on, so Sam couldn't resist peeking inside.

Rowena's things were piled neatly on a chair by the door although her notes, an ancient looking spell book, and several small bottles of ingredients were scattered on his desk. The room was lit only by the one lamp and the glow from the bowl sitting next to it, but it was enough to let him see. He forced himself to look at the bed. What drew his eye first was the glint of Rowena's red hair. The witch was curled up on the edge of the mattress, seemingly asleep. She was dressed in probably the most casual outfit he'd ever seen her wear - a pair of slacks and a soft green sweater. Her feet were bare, tucked up under the edge of his blanket.

On the other side of the bed, next to the tiny woman, was his body. Seen from his child sized perspective, and in comparison to Rowena, it seemed both strangely large and yet oddly diminished. The soul didn't take up physical space inside a human being, but deprived of one, his body looked hollowed out somehow. Dean had told him that the witch was keeping his body in stasis, but it was extremely weird to see it from outside his own skin. It wasn't exactly normal in the best of circumstances, but considering he was looking at his actual corpse, he couldn't prevent the chill that ran through him. It didn't seem real somehow, like someone had stolen a wax figure from one of those creepy tourist traps and laid it on the bed. It was bizarre to imagine that it belonged to him. With a shudder, he had to turn away.

His gaze was drawn next to the papers that were neatly laid out on his desk. Recognizing some of the symbols and reading a few of her notations, he realized that Rowena was working on a spell to try and put him back in his body.

"It's not finished yet." Rowena's voice surprised him, and he jumped away from the papers with a guilty start. Sitting up, she pushed and patted her hair into some semblance of its usual order. "You know Sam, when I imagine us sleeping together, it's always a little more... risqué." She gave him a sly wink. Sam could feel the heat of a blush warm his face and she chuckled lightly. Holding a hand up in apology, she shook her head.

"I suppose it's rather inappropriate to flirt with you when you look like a wee lad, isn't it?" He took a step backwards in the small space and almost fell on his ass, tripping over her ridiculously sparkly shoes. Catching himself on the edge of the desk, the spell bowl wobbled and suddenly Rowena was on her feet, serious as a heart attack as she stabilized the bowl and its contents. "Careful boy," she snapped.

"Sorry," he muttered as he turned to go.

"No, no, Sam," Rowena started. He turned back at her call. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to snap. The last few days have been taxing to say the least," she sighed with regret and even in the forgivingly dim light, Sam could see the strain on her face and just how tired Rowena looked. Had she really been putting this much effort into saving him? He trusted her to a degree, especially after her recent efforts to keep the rift open so that everyone could get home from the apocalypse world, but he still had his doubts.

Gesturing at her research on the desk, he had to ask. "Why are you doing all this? Not that I don't appreciate it, but why would you go to all this effort to save me? After all, Death told you that I'm the one who is going to kill you." His curiosity won out over any awkwardness he felt in asking such a pointed question.

"Well, it's not like Death gave me much of a choice," she began. "But, knowing that you're the agent of my ultimate demise is honestly somewhat reassuring. After all, I've managed to avoid all your attempts to murder me so far." She smirked, but Sam had to grimace at that. It wasn't entirely untrue. She pulled out the desk chair and sat wearily.

"Besides," she said, the mask of indifference she usually wore slipping away, "I've turned over somewhat of a new leaf of redemption, haven't I?" Self-consciously, she fiddled with one of the ingredient bottles and avoided eye contact. "And foolishly, I've grown rather fond of you, your pigheaded brother, and your reckless insistence on trying to do the right thing." She sniffed as if disgusted with her confession. "You do make life interesting."

Sam found himself moved and he wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to tell her that he believed in her, that he understood how onerous it was to live with the weight of your past. But instead, an unexpected yawn came over him that was broad enough to make his jaw crack.

"Och, enough of this mawkish rubbish. You need to get back to bed young man. I doubt getting shoved back into your body will be a very pleasant experience and you'll need your rest." She shooed him out of the room with a wave of her arms. In the hallway, Sam huffed out a laugh even as he stood on the other side of his now closed bedroom door. He supposed he should feel annoyed that Rowena had taken over his room, but he mostly just felt grateful that she cared. Grateful and suddenly too dead on his feet to think about it. Retracing his steps, he snuck back into Dean's room and crept under the covers. His last thought before sleep swept him under was that he was glad to be home.

xxxxxx

Dean was up early. He'd rolled into the kitchen to make some coffee, still trying to shake off the nightmare that had woken him. Even though Sam was home, right there within arms reach, he'd kept dreaming of Michael driving that blade into Sam's chest. It didn't help that the boy next to him didn't look like his brother. Not that he was ungrateful, he'd take Sammy alive in any shape or form over the unpleasant alternative. But, after a lifetime together, he and Sam had a synergy and sync that Dean knew he'd never have with anyone else, even Cas or Mom. And he missed it.

Grinding at his gritty eyes with a knuckle, he sighed. The coffee maker was taking forever. He leaned an elbow against the table and propped up his head on his hand. At least today, Jack would fix his legs, and as far as Dean was concerned, that couldn't come soon enough. He was just not used to feeling so vulnerable all the time. Since he'd left the hospital, he'd had to depend on his family and friends in ways that made him uncomfortable. He didn't like being the centre of attention, so he'd done his best to act like nothing was different, but it was a challenge. Using this damn chair wasn't easy and he'd definitely gained an appreciation for people with permanent disabilities. He was looking forward to getting his mobility back.

Cas appeared in the doorway and paused, clearly not expecting to see Dean at the table.

"Morning, Cas," Dean slurred tiredly, face still partially smushed into his palm.

"Good morning." Cas collected two mugs and filled them both, sliding one across to Dean as he sat. The close-by smell of coffee roused Dean a little bit and he made the effort to pick up his own cup. It was too hot, but he was content to just sit and inhale the fragrant steam. Anything else seemed like too much effort,

"I take it you didn't sleep well?" Cas asked.

"Mmmh" was all Dean gave him. Finally, he blew on the dark liquid and took a tiny sip.

"How is Sam doing?" Cas tried again. Making him wait for an answer, Dean managed a scalding slurp, the burn on his tongue worth the benefit the caffeine was about to give him.

"Uh, he's still sleeping, but he's all beat to hell. Thank goodness Jody got him away from those worthless crackpots." It still rankled a bit that when Sam had called for help, he couldn't reach anyone but the good Sheriff. "That reminds me, later today, you need to go and get us some new phones."

"Did I hear my name?" Jody shuffled her way into the kitchen, looking a little less spent than she had last night. Filling her own cup, she sat down beside Cas.

"Yes, Dean was just saying how grateful he was that you were able to bring Sam home." That may have been the essence of what he had said, but it sounded a lot sappier when Cas said it that way.

Jody negated his comment with a wave of her hand as she sipped her coffee. "Meh, you guys have saved my life more than once. Anytime I can help, I'll be there." She reached out and patted Dean's elbow affectionately and then went back to nursing her mug. The three of them drank in silence for a few minutes.

"How is Leah?" Cas asked. To be honest Dean had almost forgotten about the little girl. Jody shrugged.

"She seems pretty resilient for a kid her age, you know." She set down her mug and Dean could see a change come over her. "I'm not sure I should have brought her with me. The police Chief may have taken me at my word, but my cover story won't withstand the scrutiny of a family law judge. Her parents might be oddballs, but she is still their daughter."

"Yeah, well judging by the bruises on Sam, her parents are dangerous. They don't deserve a kid," Dean growled. The idea that those abusive scumbags could have custody of any child made his blood boil. Jody nodded in agreement, but there was a little frown between her eyebrows.

"So, what are we going to do with her? I can take her for a little while, but my hands are already pretty full with Claire, Alex and Patience." She seemed apologetic, but Dean couldn't blame her. Jody had stepped up in a big way to take care of the teens, but it wasn't as if she had unlimited space and resources. Plus, if the stuff with family court did blow her way, she could lose her job. Still, Leah couldn't stay here. Living in a concrete bunker with a couple of grown men, an angel and a nephilim was hardly the right environment for a little girl. Maybe Mom could take her for a little bit?

"Let's defer this conversation until later," suggested Cas. "We need to have Jack finish healing Dean, then we need to restore Sam to his body." Dean had to agree, that seemed like a logical idea, one that Sam would have proposed if he were here.

"Agreed," he said, draining his mug. "First things first."