A/N: I had a request for a translation of the Latin phrases Dean uses in the last chapter - The basic translation is as follows: "I bless this rite with divine intent. May this foreign spirit be gone, be gone, be gone in the name of the old gods. You are cast out. You are banished. Depart, never to return. Release this soul, and be released" Hey, it sounded less cheesy in Latin…. :)
A low moan pulled Dean from a deep sleep, and he stirred sluggishly. It took him a moment to realize where he was, slumped facedown on the edge of Sam's mattress. He sat up stiffly, his back protesting as he straightened. Sam was trying to blink open his eyes, fingers moving restlessly against the mattress as he moaned again.
"Sammy?" Dean said softly, laying a hand on his brother's wrist. Sam made a less-than coherent sound, managing to open his eyes in narrow slits. His gaze slid wearily to Dean's face, his expression blank.
"Hey, Sam." Dean said warmly, smiling at his little brother. "Welcome back to the land of the conscious."
Sam just stared at him, silent, but Dean thought he could see a hint of brotherly annoyance in his expression.
"How do you feel?"
Sam cleared his throat roughly and finally spoke.
"Like shit…" he said, his voice soft but wry.
"Well, hate to break it to ya, little brother, but that's pretty much how you look, too."
Sam made a face and raised the middle finger of his right hand at Dean, who chuckled and leaned back. There was another moment of silence, and then Dean couldn't take it anymore.
"Do you remember what happened last night?" he asked, trying not to sound too desperate. Sam's brow furrowed and he looked slightly confused for a moment. Then, as Dean's heart was beginning to sink, Sam looked questioningly at him.
"Did you perform an… exorcism on me?" he asked, looking unsettled.
Relief and gratitude filled Dean so quickly he felt lightheaded. He slumped forward, grasping the edge of the mattress with both hands to stay upright.
"Dean?"
Sam's concerned voice filtered through the grayness that had begun to encroach on his vision. He blinked rapidly, the vertigo receding, and straightened again.
"Yeah," he said breathily. "I'm good."
But his heart pounded fiercely, and his hands shook.
"Dean, what happened? What was… in me?" Sam blurted, his eyes wide.
Dean took a deep breath, unsure how to explain.
"Do you remember that house in Charleston? Big, old, mansion and a poltergeist?"
Sam appeared the think for a moment, then nodded.
"The poltergeist pushed you through the banister on the second story landing. It knocked me out, and when I woke up you were… in bad shape. The doctors said you had brain damage."
Sam's face blanched and he looked vaguely nauseous. One hand lifted to touch the edges of his bandages.
"You had a rare form of amnesia that hindered your ability to form new memories."
"Wait- brain damage? …Amnesia? Dean-" a hysterical sounding laugh bubbled from Sam's chest.
"It wasn't actually brain damage, Sam. The poltergeist was the spirit of a man named Daniel Hauser – he was a worker who was electrocuted in the house in the 70's – that's why the spirit looked all… sparky. It took refuge in your brain while I was unconscious, and it fucked with your temporal lobe. That's why I had to perform the exorcism, to get it out and make you better."
Sam looked overwhelmed, his eyes darting back and forth as he searched his mind for any memory of the things his big brother described.
"How- how long?" he asked softly.
"Sam…"
Dean didn't want to tell him it had been three months – the poor kid was on the verge of losing it as it was.
"Dean, please. I need to know, how long has it been?"
"A little over three months," Dean replied, looking away.
"Three months?"
Sam's voice cracked and his eyes widened. Dean heard his breath quicken and rushed to reassure him.
"I was here, every day. I didn't let anything bad happen to you."
Sam blinked at him, shocked.
"You're going to be okay now, Sam. The spirit is gone, and you can remember last night, so your memory is fixed."
Sam's head flopped back onto his pillow and he took a shuddering breath.
"Okay," he said softly. "Okay…"
He was trying to convince himself, trying to hold it together, and Dean felt a mingled surge of pride and sympathy for his little brother.
"Sammy, you're going to be ok." He promised in his best brother-knows-best voice.
Sam nodded weakly, his eyes drifting shut again.
"I'm going to go get the doctor, let him know you can remember last night. Just… tell him you remember me visiting you in your room, okay? If you start talkin' about exorcisms and spirits, he'll just transfer you to psych."
Sam opened his eyes as Dean stood, looking at him intently.
"Dean?"
"Yeah, Sam?"
"You're- you're okay, too, right?"
Dean paused, squeezing Sam's shin through the blankets.
"I am now, Sammy."
A/N: Short chapter, but more tomorrow. :)
