Actions speak louder

Chapter 11

By teal-lover

Summary: Sam meant what he said the asylum. So how can he ever convince the one person in his life that knows him better than anyone, otherwise?

Rating: PG13, T

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural in any way shape or form, and I don't get any money for this, this is purely entertainment…hopefully:)

AN: thank you all so much for the overwhelming response. I'm so glad you guys are still with me, so I'm pressing on. I hope to have the next chapter up by next week. Bug me to get done faster ;) it helps.

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Last time…

Missouri looked to both men standing beside her and gently eased her expression into a comforting smile. "I'm here under orders."

"Whose?" Dean interrupted suspiciously.

"The real Mrs. Winchester, of course."

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"What? But you told me she was gone—that she destroyed herself and the poltergeist to save us!"

Missouri took Dean's accusatory stare and bristling tone in stride. She calmly explained to him, "And that was the truth. Dean, you have to understand—your mother's spirit no longer walks among the living, but that doesn't mean that a spirit as strong as hers—one with as much love as she has for her family—can't communicate with the other side from time to time. It was difficult for her, that's for certain. I was only able to clearly pick up a few words, but she left me no doubt that one of her babies needed my help."

Dean fought hard to keep his eyes from watering, but knew he had failed miserably when Missouri's thumb trailed his cheek gently and wiped it away. After so many years without his mother in his life, he tried, and succeeded in pushing her memory to the back of his mind. He loved her without question, but as time went on, her physical presence had been lost to him as nothing more than an idea, a quest, a mission. Even the pain of growing up without her, had faded.

But seeing her again after so many years back in Lawrence was enough to float it all back to the surface. Of how she gave her life to protect their family—to protect Sam. Of how she was completely willing to give her soul to do it again. Now, knowing that Mary was still fighting for her family in the afterlife, she became real to him again.

That knowledge was enough to make him shed all pretenses of the tough guy image he so liked to portray as another drop of water fell. Right now, he guessed that his mind was completely open to the psychic, but at the moment, he didn't care. All that mattered was saving the family that Mary was fighting so hard to protect. He croaked out a question even though he believed he knew the answer. "You're sure?"

"About Sam? Yes, honey. And so was your mother."

That was all the reassurance Dean needed for himself and now felt that he needed to be the one to convince his father. "Dad?"

John was suddenly at a loss for words and couldn't decide what to believe. He dragged his hand through his salt and pepper hair roughly. "Dean, I—" he stopped abruptly to find the shorter woman suddenly by his side and tugging on his arm.

"John, sit down before you fall down," she ordered firmly after noticing his sudden shaky stance, realizing that he had begun to question his son's identity. "Dean, go talk to Sam. Say the same thing that your father said earlier."

Dean nodded and complied immediately, tensing as he waited for the signs of the heart monitor beeping wildly again, or some sort of telekinetic force.

When nothing happened, Dean grinned madly and repeated it again several times, turning the mantra into a tune of an old children's song that he used to sing to his baby brother.

The relief evident on her features, Missouri's mouth soon quirked up into a tiny smile as she shook her head in mock annoyance. "I always knew there was something wrong with your oldest." The lack of response made her turn to him worriedly before finally noticing that he looked nearly as pale as his son lying in the bed. "John?"

"What have I done, Missy?"

"Nothing that can't be undone. Sam will be fine, and then you can go back to brooding again as usual."

"I was just so scared that—"

She silenced him with a sharp look. Dean may have appeared to be tuning them out while he yapped away in his brother's ear, obviously hoping to make the younger man stir, but Missouri knew him better than that. He was still well within earshot and if he got even an inkling of what was going on, he'd hold on to it like a dog with a chew toy.

"I know John. But believe me, he'll be fine. You'll see." One raised eyebrow was enough to tell him that the conversation wasn't over. He nodded slightly, about to reply when the new shift doctor appeared in the doorway.

He looked a bit surprised for a moment to see three of them in the room, but brushed it off as the woman anticipated his thoughts.

"Yes, I know only two to a bedside. But we were praying and we always do that as a family."

"Actually, Mrs. Winchester, I'm glad you're all here, because I'd like to discuss Sam's condition with all of you."

"Thank you, but my husband's already told me."

"Uh, no, Mam. I've just come on duty, and I spoke with Dr. Kendal and read over his notes. He hadn't had a chance to go over a few potential complications with him yet."

Both Dean and John's head s shot up worriedly. "What kind of complications."

"Well, we're a bit concerned that Sam had gone without oxygen for so long on 2 separate occasions. The first time his heart began beating on it's own, but after 4 minutes. The second time was close to 2 minutes, and we had to resuscitate. Frankly, I'm concerned that 6 minutes without oxygen to the brain could have left permanent brain damage." The doctor paused for effect and let his comment sink in.

Dean piped up first, "When will we know?"

"For certain, not until he wakes up. But I'm a little concerned that his brain waves show no sign of doing that and he's not sedated. There are of course tests we can do in the interim to see how—"

Missouri froze his speech with a harsh glare, then shook her head as she answered firmly. "No."

Both Dean and the doctor looked at the woman in surprise. Only John followed her lead and agreed with her.

The doctor hid his surprise quickly and stared at the woman again. "Pardon me?"

"I only spoke one word with two letters. I thought it was pretty clear. But since it's apparently not, let me help you. Now I'm no psychic, but I don't think it takes one to have seen the gleam in your eyes when you walked in here salivating like a dog eyeing a juicy steak."

He bristled, "Mrs. Winchester, my only concern is for Sam's well being."

"Let me ask you this…This test—it's experimental, isn't it?"

The doctor's eyes widened and he stammered nervously, "Well uh—"

"Uuh huh. That's what I thought. Dangerous too. The answer is still no. And I'm sure both John and Dean will agree with me that you will not be poking around in this child's brain just so you can satisfy your curiosity of what makes him tick. Or add him to your medical journals or whatever else you had planned. Sam will wake up when he's good and ready, and I have faith that will be soon, and he'll be just fine. And you call yourself a doctor. You ought to be ashamed of yourself…"

Dean couldn't help the smirk that spread across his face as he watched the doctor scramble to get out of the room with guilt overlying his reddened features. When they were finally alone again, he turned to the woman, "Do you really think Sam's going to be ok?"

"I do."

"Can I ask you another question?"

"You were going to ask me anyway…"

Quirking his lips up into a tiny smile, he nodded in agreement before turning serious again. Always quick on the verbal draw, he wasn't accustomed to being at a loss for words, but suddenly found himself tongue-tied with a host of confusing thoughts. He finally found the one word that could help as he glanced at his brother's inert form. "Why?"

"Why did he take that bullet for you?" at his nod, she him gently. "I'm surprised you have to ask. He loves you, Dean."

"But barely a week ago, he shot me himself. And if he had real bullets…How could someone want to kill me one minute, then save me the next?"

"Ordinarily, I'd say that you just have that effect on people. Kidding aside, I think that's something he'd rather explain himself."

"if you can read his thoughts, why wont you tell me? If he wakes up-"

"When."

"Ok, when he wakes up, he's never going to explain any of this."

"I think you're confusing yourself with your brother. Sam would babble from now until eternity if you'd let him."

Although her tone was gentle and free from accusations, Dean turned away with an abnormal flush to his cheeks. He understood her meaning. If he had been willing to listen when Sam repeatedly tried to explain, Sam wouldn't be lying in that bed unconscious right now.

Normally, Missouri wouldn't intrude on such personal thoughts, but she just couldn't stand by and allow him to beat himself up about something she knew would have happened one way or another. "Dean, listen to me. I can't see the future, but Sam can. If he hadn't pushed you out of the way, I can guarantee you that we would not be having this conversation right now. We would be planning your funeral. Now other than the obvious, that he loves his brother, I can't explain—no—actually, I won't explain Sam's specific reasoning. That's something that he needs to work out with you, and he'd never forgive me for butting in."

Reluctantly, Dean gave up on the subject, but was intent on having the same conversation when his brother woke. Which brought another question to mind. "When do you think he'll wake up?"

"That's up to him. But even as we speak, his thoughts are becoming more and more lucid, so his consciousness is close to the surface. I don't think it will be long. Now, we just wait."

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Days later, Missouri had asked that the two oldest Winchester's go to the cafeteria and get real food to keep up their strength. Until then, they had survived on nothing but bland coffee and all of the nutrition held in a snack machine. Asked, she thought with a soft chuckle, may have been too light of a description. More like, demanded on threat of getting thumped on the back of their heads by her handbag. She stopped laughing when a word clearly echoed in her mind, drawing her attention back to the bed.

Dean...

She inched closer before leaning on the handrail, watching intently for any sign of movement. She knew it would be there, and sure enough, as soon as she picked up his hand, she felt a slight twitch.

"Come on Sammy…" she urged him softly. "Come back to us. You can do it. You know Dean is going to annoy the heck out of all of us until you do."

The mention of his brother's name seemed to stir something in him. Sam's eyelids fluttered, struggling to fight off the haze of a long sleep.

After several long moments, moss green eyes opened and searched around the room for the familiar sounding voice coaxing him awake. When they settled on the shining brown ones, he tried to speak as his last conscious memories flooded back to him. The tube in his throat was painful and unsettling, but even more so, was the lack of his brother's comforting presence. He began to panic, the heart monitors steadily increasing in speed and pitch. If only Missouri was here, then he failed. He hadn't saved Dean.

The sounds drew the attention of the hospital staff who rushed to his bedside. Upon noticing that he was awake, the doctor tried unsuccessfully to calm his patient. He told Missouri, "He's panicking because of the breathing tube. We have to remove it, but we can't do it until he calms down."

She shook her head as she pushed him aside, grabbing Sam's face to force him to look at her. "No, he's not. His brother, Dean, is down in the cafeteria. Would someone go and get him please? Sam, listen to me. Dean is perfectly fine. He's just worried about you. Now you have to calm down, honey, or you're really going to give him something to worry about."

Sam seemed to calm at her words. His breathing slowed and he stared at her, knowing that she could hear him without the need for words. Dean? He's ok?

"Yes, Sammy. He's coming right now. Now they're going to take the tube out so that you can breath on your own again. Will you let them do that?"

He squeezed her hand that had dropped to his, following the doctors instructions as they removed the tube from his raw throat. He wasn't sure if he'd ever talk again with as much pain as it left behind.

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Down the hallway, Dean raced past the nurses station, leaving his father far behind him. He only slowed when the crowd of hospital staff parted to allow him access to the room. He couldn't help that broad grin that slipped up on him as Sam sat in the bed, staring at him like he hadn't seen him in years. "It's about time you finally woke up, princess."

Sam couldn't talk yet, but his lack of a voice sure hadn't kept him from rolling his eyes at his big brother.

TBC…