I'M SOOOOOOOO SORRY that I left you hanging like this.

thing is, I'm in school and understimated the ammount of stuff I have to study.

Fields Of Jasmine

Chapter 31 ~ The Book

His breath caught in his throat, unwilling to leave his body.

For agonizing, long minutes he was unable to move, unable to think. His mind was blank like a white sheet of paper.

Another wave of dizziness and nausea latched onto him. He swayed and for a short glimpse of time he felt like the ground under his feet was moving. Dean couldn't tell if it was because of his concussion or because of the scene presented to him.

"Sammy." Finally, his throat would allow a merciful exhale. Another couple of long seconds passed until the rigidity subsided and allowed his wobbly legs to move. He found himself kneeling in between his omega's prone form and the mauled demon on the ground. Dean's hands were hovering over Sam as if he wasn't sure it was a good idea to move him.

Dean didn't know how badly Sam was injured – if his spine or head were hurt – or if there was a possibility that he'd cause even more injuries by moving him. No, he couldn't go there. Not again. Not after what Sam had already been through, right?

Wasn't there a point where it'd be enough? When would this end?

"Sammy.", he whispered hoarsely, barely touching the younger man's cheek. He didn't care that there was a pool of blood and high likely guts beneath his knees. Dean didn't care that he was messing up his boots where they touched the bloody mess on the ground. He didn't care about the stains in his favorite jeans either.

Though there was a lot of blood, it didn't look as if it was Sam's. The omega looked uninjured except for the angry, red mark winding around his neck where the demon had him pinned.

A muscle in Sam's throat twitched. Then one in his jaw. A small noise fell from the omega's parted lips. Before he could stop himself, Dean had his hands all over his mate's form before he laid them on his face, tilting his head up and waiting for his almond-shaped eyes to open. He hadn't have to wait for too long.

There was another soft noise and his eyelids fluttered. A wheezing breath followed another and dazed hazel-eyes slowly started to clear. The omega's lips moved, but no sound came out. No sound at all.

"It's okay.", Dean tried to sooth, as Sam reached for his throat and the raw skin there. Instantly, Sam tried to ask his mate if he was hurt, but it was no use. His vocal cords wouldn't obey, at all.

Sam's shaky hand came up and touched the ex-hunter's temple, where a smear of blood covered his skin and made his short hair sticky. There was already a bruise forming too. Worriedly, he looked up at the older man with a concerned gaze.

"It's nothin' bad.", Dean tried to reassure. "Just a scratch." The omega's fingertips fluttered over the spot once again and the alpha hissed. Even without using his voice, Dean could tell what he would say.

It made him smile. That stubborn side of Sam had only shown since he was able to remember his past. It was like a part of him got resurrected and now both sides of him were melting together into yet another character. Not that it was a bad thing. Dean sure didn't miss the too quiet and too pensive Sam that much, but sometimes, he wondered if there was more of the "old" Sam still to come back.

"It's fine.", he said and patted his omega's hand away. "Don't you worry." Sam pursed his lips, his forehead furrowed and his eyebrows drew close so they nearly made a line. He knew perfectly well that Dean wasn't fine. He could feel it. Sense it. The ex-hunter was putting on an act.

That was what it was.

Sam sat up awkwardly and made a hoarse sound. "I'd say we get out of here." The ex-hunter's voice broke as he had to swallow. "'m … Fuck." A concussion was nothing to play with. Dean knew that. But he also thought that it'd be even worse if Sam had to worry about him. Before he'd collapse or get worse, he needed to get his mate out of here and far away.

There were twelve other creatures out there somewhere and no one knew where. Dean Winchester wasn't going to risk anything here. He wouldn't risk Sam's life.

Though, his head didn't seem to like the idea of movement right then. The world around him started to spin and dark dots danced in front of his eyes. His vision was growing blurrier by the passing second. "Sammy.", was all he got out, before everything went dark.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The fire and smoke were visible from quite a distance.

They'd find nothing. No corpses, no hunter's liar. Nothing. The fire would eat it all up – including that big part of Samuel Harvelle's past.

Sam didn't think that it was all bad or anything, but he felt kind of sad at the loss. He also figured it was best to leave this place as quickly as possible – without leaving any traces of himself or what had happened there.

So Sam had gotten the Impala and had loaded Dean into the backseat. He had taken exquisite care so that his alpha would lie as comfortable as possible with his head propped up on Sam's leather jacket and his body covered with a blanket from the trunk. Then he'd gotten the weapons and stored them in the trunk and had loaded as many books as possible.

He covered most of the surfaces with gasoline, making sure that nothing would be left behind – including both corpses which he had dragged inside. Sam knew the risks and he felt it was a bit of a failure drawing so much attention to this place, but he had no other choice, had he?

He wanted neither humans nor demons to find this place. Nor did he want anyone to dig around in his belongings. It was too dangerous. For all of them. So it had to be burned.

The whole thing was prepared and done within two hours, during which Dean was out cold. Sure, Sam had thought about heading to a hospital, but then again … he was pretty sure that it was a concussion and they wouldn't do anything else than he would. Besides, they'd ask a lot of stupid questions and Sam had no clue which of Dean Winchester's fake-ids were still good to use.

Sam couldn't tell how he knew that this seemed like only a concussion and nothing worse, but he knew. He knew that rest and sleep and staying in bed would get Dean back on his feet. So he decided the best thing for both of them would be to drive for a few miles and then find a motel they could stay in.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

The whole passenger's seat and the foot-area were full with stacks of books. So was a part of the trunk where he'd found enough space to put some more.

Then he'd gotten the money which was hidden in the drawer of his desk and had handed it to Harry, telling him that it was time to leave for good.

As for the money – Sam knew it was only fair to give the ten grand to the man, since there'd be quite some damage done until the fire department arrived. He told Harry not to go look and to wait fifteen minutes before he'd call the fire service.

His talk with Harry had been a raspy and rather painful endeavor, but he managed to get his point across to the short beta. He only nodded with huge eyes.

Harry hadn't even seemed too mad. Instead, he gave him a manly bear hug and said goodbye to the young omega then promised that he'd come after Dean if he didn't take care of Sam properly.

Sam had to smile at that. He wondered if the man had always known that he hadn't been an alpha or beta. Well, he was actually positive about that, since he figured that Harry had to have seen the suppressants at some point while taking care of him.

Anyway. None of that really mattered right now. First things first.

The young omega climbed behind the wheel and, after a couple of fruitless attempts on getting the car's engine started, he eventually managed to get out of town without stalling the car.

Sam breathed more freely when he turned up on the highway, heading back north. At least he hoped he was heading back north.

There were a couple of motels the first two hundred miles, but he didn't pick either of them since he had the feeling that it'd be better if he'd get some more distance between them and Lawrence.

There was a small no name town after milestone 673.

The motel he found looked a bit run down from the outside with a half-working neon sign that signaled they had vacancies for half of the price as usual. Sam didn't know exactly how much money they had, but he dearly hoped that Dean had enough in his wallet to rent one of those rooms for tonight and maybe tomorrow too.

Sam gazed into the rearview mirror after he had parked the car with a concerned frown. Dean hadn't woken up so far. That hopefully wasn't a bad sign.

Maybe he should have taken the alpha to an ER. Maybe he should've let a doctor check him over. Doing so also meant drawing attention which they surely didn't need right now. Hell, Sam didn't even know if that demon was really dead or if it had escaped while its vessel was mauled to death.

Also, there was still the creature out there somewhere. Actually, it was his creature. A part of him. His child. He understood why Dean wouldn't or couldn't think that way, but it had been a part of Sam for a pretty long time, even during the time he hadn't known that he was carrying it.

It had saved his life. Orpheus – at least that was what the demon had called it before it ripped her throat out – had protected him. It hadn't hurt him, nor had it seemed to intend to do him any harm.

It hadn't intended to harm Dean either.

That meant that this thing – or whatever you call it – wasn't evil, was it?

No evil thing would do that. Especially not Orthos' child, since they were supposed to kill. Maybe it only wanted to make him feel that way, but maybe it wasn't. As long as there remained even the tiniest maybe, it deserved the benefit of the doubt.

Anyway. He had very different pressing matters right now. Like the one in the backseat. Sam thought about how he'd manage this whole thing without having someone by his side to take the lead or at least to back him up.

It wasn't like he was afraid per say. Okay, he might feel a bit nauseous at the thought of going into that office over there to rent a room. And he might even feel skiddy about doing it all by himself without Dean by his side, but…oh, who was he kidding? He was scared, but he had no choice.

The omega gazed into the backseat, avoiding the rearview mirror as he did so. Sam knew that he had to do this. He couldn't drive with Dean like that for the rest of the way. Besides … he wasn't even sure where the hell he was right now.

"I can do this.", he told himself quietly. "I have to."

And before he could overthink the whole thing, he was out of the car and on his way to the door, where "office" was written in neon letters, blinking invitingly. Once inside, he found a rather old woman with curlers in her hair and makeup all over her wrinkled face behind the counter. Her thin, bright red lips seemed to practically glow to Sam's tired eyes.

He blinked. Sam blinked again. "What can I do for you, kid?", she asked softly, offering a toothless smile.

"I'd need a room.", he croaked out. Her smile widened. "You've got any money?"

Sam facepalmed himself internally, as he realized that he hadn't gotten Dean's wallet before leaving the car. "Ye-eah … In the car.", he answered a bit helpless. The old lady squinted at him curiously. Then she took a deep inhale and pursed her lips, eyeing the young omega for a very long time, since he stayed frozen to his place.

"Then … why don't you get it then?" Both of her eyebrows rose high on her forehead. That was about the moment Sam realized that they weren't even real eyebrows the old lady had there. They were painted. Painted.

"Yeah … yeah, of course." Sam turned on his heels and left the office quickly. Back in the car he got the wallet Dean had been wearing the day before, which gladly was in the glove compartment instead of in his jeans. Not that he didn't like to grope his mate. But this was slightly different. Actually, Sam hoped that Dean wouldn't wake until they were in their room.

Once back inside, Sam paid for two nights and the old lady gave him the keys to a room with a double queen.

Sam brought the Impala around the building where their room was supposed to be and parked it closest to the outstretched porch. First he wanted to get their duffels and the first aid kit inside, but had to realize, that those were buried beneath weapons and books in the trunk.

Reversing his former idea, he hurried to get their room unlocked and left the door wide open while he went back to the car. He looked around, making sure that no one would actually see him dragging someone into a motel room.

This could go wrong in so many ways.

Luckily, there didn't seem to be anyone around. No other cars in the parking lot besides an old and rusty pick up which looked more like a wreck in the last beams of the setting sun.

The omega climbed into the back of the Impala. "Dean.", he whispered, and laid his hand on the alpha's cheek, feeling his cool skin. "I … I'll have to take you to the hospital if you're not wakin' up soon." Sam's throat was dry and felt raw as he spoke. He waited, hoping that the threat would make his mate stir.

But Dean kept on being absent to this world.

With a sigh, Sam manhandled him into a sitting position and then managed to get him out from the car. Ever so carefully, he picked him up and shifted him in his grasp as soon as he stood upright.

The ex-hunter's weight tore on his muscles after only a couple of seconds. Dean's head lolled into the crook of his neck as he shifted him again, to try and gain more leverage and hold him tighter.

Through his own exhaustion, the omega managed to kick the door shut with his butt and bring the alpha inside where he laid him onto the bed.

Once he had arranged him, he hurried back outside and got the salt from the trunk. He then made

sure that Dean's baby was locked down properly and went back into their rented room.

More because of his instincts than anything, Sam started to salt the door and windows and when he was done, he abandoned the can of salt on the ground. He then went back to Dean's side and checked him over.

The alpha's pulse was steady and strong against the tips of his fingers, and his breaths were even and deep.

If there wasn't clear evidence that Dean had been thrown around, he'd look like he was slumbering peacefully. With a thoughtful expression, Sam made himself move and get the duffel and first aid kit from the car since he had decided to get his mate inside first.

"Fuck.", he growled. Actually, Sam felt as if he was about to pass out. He was too tired, too exhausted, but he had to get those duffels and the kit so he could get Dean cleaned up.

He needed to do that before he crashed and gave into his own desires. So he pushed himself out of the door again and headed back to the Impala. After about fifteen minutes of digging through the trunk and getting everything back inside so that it'd fit and that the trunk could be closed without too much violence, he headed back to their room.

A heavy sigh fell from his lips, as he kicked the door shut, locked it, and dumped the duffles and first aid kit on the table. Sam glanced at Dean for a long moment, making sure that he was still breathing and headed into the bathroom afterwards, gathering the two towels and washcloths.

Sadly there wasn't a basin of any kind, so he may have to wet the washcloths and one of the towels in the sink. That didn't bother him that much. Though a basin would've been useful.

Sam let the water of the sink run until it became hot. While waiting, he leaned against the sink with closed eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. He was trying to force back black and grey dots before his vision. He tried to ignore the burning need in his very bones to lie down flat and rest his eyes. The omega pried his eyes open, when he felt warm steam rising and turned the water off. He then wrung out the washcloths and one of the towels and headed back into the bedroom where he put them on the nightstand.

"'m gonna get you cleaned up.", Sam murmured rather to himself. "I think that cut needs stitches."

Carefully, he started to clean the dried blood from Dean's forehead, temple and hair. He tilted his head to the side as he eyed the cut, debating with himself if it truly needed stitches.

If it wasn't necessary, he would leave it as it was and only cover it with antiseptic salve. He actually thought that he could save time if he didn't, that meant that he'd hit the hay faster.

A small sigh escaped his lips and he reached up at his own face and touched the scar. "Stitches it is." Despite the need to sleep and rest, he didn't want the ex-hunter to live with a scar because he'd been too selfish.

Sam was careful and tender while he stitched Dean up with shaky hands. When he was done, he eyed his handy work and smiled satisfied. That one wouldn't leave a scar.

He cast his look to the floor where he had dumped the towels and gauze. Sam was supposed to clean that up before he turned in. He just couldn't find a reason, for the love of god, to do it. No one else would clean up that mess, so who cared if it'd stay where it was?

It wasn't like anyone would care, right?

He could put the things away in the morning.

Except for the suturing kit and the first aid kit of course. That one, he put on the nightstand and away from the bed. Sam moved slowly towards the end of the bed and pulled Dean's boots off of his feet. He then removed his own and laid down on the other side. Sam took the blanket and comforter from his half and threw them over Dean's prone form, leaving his face uncovered.

For a moment he thought about getting a blanket from the car for himself, but he didn't want to move now. The mattress felt incredibly comfortable. He'd get the blankets when he started to get cold anyway – just not now.

NOW he'd sleep and rest his eyes. Sam turned to the side, facing Dean. He laid his hand over the ex-hunter's heart and let his eyes drift closed.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam didn't wake when Dean did. Sam didn't wake when the older man crawled out of bed and slipped out from under his grasp. He didn't even stir, when the mattress dipped or when Dean nearly tripped over the towels on the floor as he went towards the bathroom.

Dean got himself two vicodine from the duffel and swallowed them with half a bottle of left-over water he found in Sam's duffel.

Once done, he crawled back into bed under the covers and threw the ones he had been covered with before, over Sam. The alpha tugged them close around the omega and pulled them up high over his shoulders and neck. Before getting up, Dean had thought he'd manage to get them breakfast or something. But now that he was back from the toilet, he figured it was a lot better to lie back down since his head wouldn't allow him anything else.

Dean closed his eyes again with a contented sigh dying on his lips. He had no clue how he got here or where they were, but Sam was here too. As it looked, Sam had been the one to bring them here.

So it had to be okay. The windows and the door were salted as much as he had been able to see from when he had gotten up. There was a slightly red mark around his mate's neck from where he had been held by the demon, strangled by the demon. Other than that – and being a bit dirty – there didn't seem to be any other injuries.

Dean inched closer to his omega and wrapped his arm around his middle. His head didn't like this kind of movement as it was sending sharp stabbing pain through his skull. He shuddered when his own skin touched Sam's exposed lower arm. A violent shudder coursed down Dean's spine as he felt cold skin. "Sammy.", he groaned disapproving and inched closer until he lay flush along Sam's side. "You're a fuckin' icicle, dude." Dean shuddered again.

It didn't last too long, he drifted off into a deep drug-induced sleep. When he woke again, it was to bright sunlight flooding the room. He felt his hand held by Sam's. He didn't need to open his eyes either to see that Sam must have turned around and was now lying with the back against Dean's chest, being the little spoon. Since he still felt like crap and since Sam was safe and sleeping soundly beside him, Dean decided that it wouldn't do any harm if he'd let himself being pulled down into sleep again.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

Sam made a small sound when he shifted against his alpha's chest and snuggled closer. Incoherent words fell from his lips.

That wasn't what woke Dean at all. What woke him, was a knock at their door. First he figured he could ignore it anyway. If it was room service – which was questionable – they could bring towels later.

The second knock was a bit more demanding and louder.

With a groan, Dean rolled onto his back. "Wait.", he mumbled. "One minute!", he called out a bit hoarse, surprised at how his voice sounded. It was raw and thin as if he hadn't used his vocal cords in days.

His body was slow and stiff as he made it to the door and looked through the peephole where he discovered a rather petite old lady with curlers in her hair and bright red lipstick. Dean made a sound between surprise and annoyance.

"Who's this?", he called out.

"Figured I've to call the police, boys." The woman's smoke-rough voice pierced through Dean's ears and set a ray of white sparks across his vision. "Haven't seen anyone leave the damn room the past couple'o days."

Dean thought for a moment. Days? "Nah, we're fine.", he answered thoughtfully.

He gazed back over his shoulder towards the bed. He didn't remember Sam getting up, did he? His look lingered on the young man for a few seconds, trying to recall any memory after he had gotten jumped by that demonic creature.

There were glimpses of Sam's face hovering close to his. The feel of Sam being close and the sharp stench of worry lingering in the air. Glimpses of Sam offering him water and pills. Gentle touches. The faint memory of being jostled and being walked to the bathroom.

Ugly green tiles and Sam's big hand on his shoulder. Dean tried to recall more, but the old lady's voice cut through his trail of thoughts. "Well then. How about you pay for yesterday and today then? I ain't no Samaritan, ya' know?" The alpha blinked surprised. Again – Days? Really? Had it been that long? How long were they here already?

The alpha's stomach gave a protesting growl when he thought about when he'd eaten the last time. He tore his gaze away from Sam and back at the peephole. "Yeah. Sure. No problem, lady.", Dean mumbled absently and frowned. "In fifteen minutes in ya' office?" There was a beat of silence. "'kay. - And don't you think you'd get away without payin', boy. I've got a sawed off under the counter. And I damn well make use of it." Dean's left eyebrow tilted up as he watched the lady turn around and shuffle away. He blew out a thoughtful breath and shook his head. The ex-hunter sniffed at himself and his face scrunched up in disgust. He smelled. Actually he stunk. Like dead – real dead - roadkill or something. Maybe he should've told the lady that he'd come in twenty minutes or half an hour. Dean looked down at himself and realized that Sam must've gotten him dressed into clean clothes, because the last thing he remembered was blood and gore all over.

Anyway. He had to get dressed and he had to get that dead-taste out of his mouth and look for his wallet. Again his gaze drifted towards Sam. Even asleep, the young man looked stressed, with creases of distress on his forehead.

Dean reached up to his temple and massaged it, his eyes shut tight at the wave of vertigo and pain. There was something itchy on his forehead right at his hairline and as his fingers brushed over neat stitches he made a surprised sound.

~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~

When Dean returned from the lady's office with a stack of towels, he checked on the saltlines and Sam - who was still deep asleep.

He went to bring the towels into the bathroom. He then checked on his mate briefly, before heading back into the bathroom and turning the shower on. The alpha shed his clothes as fast as humanly possible and crawled into the shower stall where scolding hot water hit his grimy feeling skin.

He didn't know how long he took under the spray before hot water turned warm and warm turned lukewarm … and eventually cool. Dean didn't care. Actually, he was too sunken in his thoughts to notice the change of temperature.

When it started to get too uncomfortable, he turned the water off, toweled his hair and body dry and glanced through the ajar door of the bathroom towards the bed. Sam hadn't moved.

He then snuck out and got the shaving kit and toothbrush from his duffel, so that he'd look halfway acceptable again. Not that he didn't look nice with that beard of his. Sure, when it was trimmed, he did, but that took a lot of time. Well, not that much of time, but Dean Winchester actually didn't feel like treating his beard each day with care. He rather shaved instead of standing in front of the damn mirror and trimming his facial hair into the right shape.

He had to have had a concussion. A severe concussion as it looked like. The lack of memory, the feel of constant nausea and the throbbing behind his eyes. That and the stitches, it all added up.

Though, nothing could possibly outweigh the tearing pain starting in his hip and cutting down into his toes. It made him cringe inwardly, as it reminded him that this would never go away. That he had to live with this pain for the rest of his life …

After shaving, Dean brushed his teeth and gurgled with Listerine to destroy the last remnants of bad taste in his mouth. The alpha was halfway through packing away his belongings, when he heard the faint buzz of his phone. Though he continued to put his things away and when he was done, he went back into the bedroom, where he found his phone on the nightstand beside a bottle of pills and a nearly empty bottle of orange juice.

Obviously Sam had been out shopping or something, since he couldn't remember having juice with them.

"Bobby?", he asked after pushing the green button and putting the phone to his ear. The familiar gruff voice of his surrogate father was heard. Obviously the old man was surprised to hear the younger Winchester and instantly started to ask him how they were doing and told him that it was good to hear him.

"Sam called?", Dean asked after the grizzled hunter told him that the omega had called and informed him that they'd take longer to return to the Salvage and that they had gotten attacked.

"Not quite. I called and he called me back. Said he wouldn't want to get you into the car until you're back on ya' feet again."

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. Guess that bastard got me good."

"Dean." "Yeah, Bobby?" "You need backup?" The old man sounded worried. "You know I'd-"

"Nah. It's fine. We got this." He smiled softly. "Guess we'll take off tomorrow mornin'. - Ellen and Jim got the book?"

Robert Singer huffed out a grumbled sound. "Yeah. Those idiots managed to get caught on tape though. Gladly they didn't get their faces on the footage." The alpha chuckled quietly. "Got anything?"

"I'm on it. It's pretty cryptic from what I can tell so far. Guess we've to interpret some topics right to get a handle on what the author meant. – five hundred pages of poetry, kid. That's worse than reading latin." Bobby didn't sound annoyed though. In fact he sounded amused. "That guy – who wrote the Diluculat – sounds rather like some kind of prophet. No wonder they burned him on the pyre. Too clever for his own good." "Good. - See you tomorrow, right?" "Right, kid. - You sure you don't need me to come and getcha? Don't want you guys wrapped around a tree or somethin'." There was hesitation and concern heavy in his voice. "Sam didn't sound any better than you do right now."

That had Dean look in Sam's direction once more. He bit the inside of his lower lip and released a shuddering breath. "I'll take care of him. Don't worry old man." Bobby grumbled. "I didn't question you taking care of him. I questioned you and him being capable of a five hours drive, kid." The grizzled beta had his own way of saying "I love you" and "I'm sorry" and most of all "I'm worried sick about the two of you".

But that was alright. Dean knew. And so did Bobby. They didn't need to get all warm and fuzzy and sharing over those things.

"I'll call when we blow this popsicle." Translated it meant, that he understood the older man's worries and that he thought they weren't necessary.

They said their goodbyes and Dean stuffed the phone into the front-pocket of his jeans. He then went to the bed at Sam's side and sat down at the very edge, eyeing the younger man intently. After a while he laid his hand on Sam's bicep and squeezed gently. "Hey, baby.", he whispered softly. "Wake up." Dean carded his fingers through his omega's thick hair and smoothed it back.

Sam's nose scrunched up and he sniffed, a disapproving sound falling from his lips. That sound which made Dean chuckle every time he heard it.

"C'mon, wake up, Sammy." It was true that Dean wanted nothing more than to get back under the covers and take another long nap, but he was starving actually so he had to get food. He wouldn't leave Sam alone – and most of all asleep.

"Baby boy. I need you to wake. Can't have you freakin' out when you wake up and I'm gone." Because it was true. Sam would wake up and find Dean gone and nowhere to be found, he'd panic. Because that was what Dean would actually do. He'd rip the world a new one …

Sam's eyelids fluttered and bleary hazel-eyes appeared, which snapped open completely the very moment the omega's brain proceeded what and who had woke him up.

"Dean.", he choked out and before the alpha could react, Sam had him wrapped up in long arms and was pulling him down, burying his face in the alpha's neck. "You're awake."

The ex-hunter went down with Sam, landing heavily on him. "Yeah, sweetheart.", he mumbled and wrapped his arms around Sam in return. "'I'm awake."

"How're you doin'?" The omega pulled back and took in Dean's face. All freckles and dimples and green bright eyes. Looking so alive and much less pale than the days before. "'m fine." Dean's lips quirked into a smile. "My head's a bit sore still."

That put a dark layer over Sam's face. His hand came to a rest on the hunter's cheek, feeling warm, soft shaved skin against his palm. His face turned more serious. "I was worried."

"It's fine. No need to worry. Ain't my first concussion, ya' know?" He tried to lighten the mood, to make Sam think of it like he did. It was one concussion of many. And as soon as he was – at least – a part-time hunter, it wouldn't be his last one.

… to be continued

Diluculat