Chapter 12

Dean awakened a few hours after surgery to the news that he'd had a successful operation, that he should expect a full recovery, and that he would be feeling a lot better in a few days. Dean looked at the doctor while he listened to his empty words. He knew he wouldn't be feeling better…not until Sam was …. and Sam's life was hanging in the balance between life and death.

Days blended together as Dean painfully heard and watched his little brother, struggling for life; the pendulum of Sam's well being kept swinging back and forth, from life to death –back to life, taking Dean's emotions right along with it. Every time Sam seemed to be giving up, losing his battle for life, he would rally and to everyone's amazement, pull through. Each time that he did, Dean would wipe his hand across his relieved face, brush away the tears that had revealed themselves unknowingly, and declare with a proud smile, "That's my boy." The hospital staff had come to expect it, in fact, they found themselves saying it right along with him. They had taken to Sam, each one relating to him as if he were their own; Dean was not surprised. Sam always had that effect on people. Though they had no clue about his puppy dog eyes or all the things that made Sam "Sammy", they were drawn to the young man who laid helpless before them, who had been kidnapped and cruelly brutalized and were personally committed to bringing him back.

Dean sat up in the uncomfortable hospital chair he had carefully positioned beside his brother's bed more than two weeks earlier. At first the chair had served as a visiting place while his own room resided down the hallway, too far away in his opinion. The doctors allowed brief visits but, being unable to move comfortably himself, he had to depend on the willingness of volunteers to help him amble down the hall to see his brother. After annoying the hospital staff with his endless requests to see Sam and to know how he was doing, and of course after his wound had made good progress without signs of infection, he was released. As he walked out of his room for the last time, he was sure he heard the hospital staff cheering. Little did they know he was merely moving down the hall to take up his new residency……in Sammy's room. After having been asked, told, ordered and threatened to leave his vigil at his unconscious brother's side, the staff had conceded, allowing him to stay. The chair that had once served as a visiting place had now become a home.

Now on a name to name basis with practically everyone on the floor who dared to step foot in his little brother's room, the medical workers had finally learned to tolerate…no, had actually warmed up to him. Having no puppy dog eyes of his own to sway them in his favor, he was quite pleased with himself at this great accomplishment. One cute little volunteer even brought him drinks and candy whenever she was in. Dean always saved the chocolate bars for Sam. They now lay stacked in a neat pile on the nightstand beside Sam's bed ready…….. waiting.

Dean leaned forward to check on his unconscious brother laid out, broken on the hospital bed next to him. His now healing ribs, complained painfully about his movements and his shoulder, still sore from the stitches, hampered his actions. But still, he pushed past the pain considering his brother's to be way worse than his own.

Sam looked so young, so vulnerable. His brutalized body was covered with gashes, cuts, and bruises from head to toe. Though some had begun to heal, others threatened infection and were under constant watch. His broken arm, now in a cast, lay still beside his fractured ribcage. The doctors said Sam's lungs were healing from the puncture inflicted on them. Dean agreed noticing that his breathing was much more deep, even, effective. It had been a long two weeks but at least there had been some physical progress.

Dean watched as his unconscious brother lay there, still, unmoving. It looked like he was just sleeping, but Dean could tell the difference. When Sam slept, there was constant movement and lots of it. His brother always tossed endlessly, hollered occasionally, and once in a while sat bolt upright. Now, he lay still, perfectly still except the rise and fall of his shattered ribcage. It was almost more painful than watching him struggle with nightmares. At least with nightmares, Dean always knew Sam would wake up.

He re-adjusted his brother's blankets, pulling them a fraction of an inch higher around the younger man's shoulders, then rubbed his hand over his scruffy face, sighed and settled back in his chair. Even though the physical wounds were heart wrenching, it was the emotional ones, the unseen ones, that troubled Dean even more. Sam should have woke up by now and Dean was gravely concerned. The doctors had said he'd be awake, days ago. Still…...nothing. Dean feared that the abuse Sam had suffered at the hands of Denton had been physically and emotionally too much for his little brother. He remembered the tear and the look in Sam's eyes when he asked his big brother to let him go, to die; It was a request Dean could never honor. Anger flickered once again in his heart and he cursed Denton wishing he could bring the insidious bastard back to life just so he could kill him again. It was so painful to see Sammy laid out for days like this, well beyond the time expected.

Having been awake most of the night from a caffeine high, Dean's overtired body begged for some relief. He gently placed his hand on Sam's unbroken arm, feeling the need to assure and be assured that everything would be all right. Somewhere in the quiet of the hospital room, Dean attempted to join his brother once again in oblivion…. but sleep and unconsciousness are not connected in oblivion and the promised peace he expected to find was not there.

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Sam's head began moving slowly side to side as he embarked on his long awaited journey back to consciousness. The path was rocky and seemed endless but eventually, he found his way; his strength came from knowing that Dean would be somewhere on the other side. His eyelids, the final gate that stood before him blocking his path, seemed unwilling to yield to his efforts. Eventually, however, he succeeded in forcing them open and entered the world of awareness.

His eyes, so familiar with the darkness of oblivion, squinted painfully as he adjusted to the bright lights of his hospital room. Lying flat on his back, he stared upward at the ceiling. His view wasn't particularly interesting. Rectangular panels formed a chessboard above his head, many of which were discolored due to water damage and near the center of the 'board' were lights, bright enough to cause even a blind man to be able to see.

Turning his head to take in his surroundings, Sam was surprised to see that everything visible was white: white walls, white sheets, white blankets, white floor tiles … almost everything was white except for the fading Mylar balloon that bobbed cheerfully in the corner. "Get Well Soon" was splashed across the top in a variety of 'oh so cheery' colors. Towards the bottom, "Little Brother" had been added, written sloppily in black magic marker. Sam smiled…. Dean. Sam was pleased with his brother's gift. It comforted him to know his brother was somewhere near. To be honest, he couldn't really remember what had happened and why he was there and that had scared him.

Wearily, he glanced around the room searching for the bearer of his gift, confident that Dean was somewhere nearby. Sure enough, his big brother was asleep, sprawled out on an uncomfortably small, orange vinyl chair beside his hospital bed. His now empty hand, rested on the side of Sam's bed, unaware it had lost the contact it had so desperately sought after earlier.

Sam's eyes followed the reaching hand back to Dean. His appearance was surprising. His hair lacked the perfectly groomed look Sam had grown accustomed to. His usual scruff was clearly overgrown, almost beardlike and his clothes were rumbled, as if they hadn't been changed in days. Dean's arm, partially concealed by his button down shirt, was hanging in a sling. Whatever the injury was, it didn't seem too serious anymore and for that he was grateful.

Concluding the search around his room, Sam's eyes fell on a nightstand forced awkwardly to serve as Dean's side table. It was cluttered with empty soda cans, used coffee cups, crumpled napkins, candy and chocolate chip cookie wrappers, and…….. a beer bottle? Only Dean would smuggle alcohol into a hospital, the non medicinal kind that is. An empty pizza box was haphazardly thrown on the floor behind him. It was obvious Dean was living out of the room, no more like the chair. Sam couldn't help but wonder how long he had been camped out there and why. Based on his appearance or lack there of, it was clear he hadn't left Sam's side for days. How many, Sam wasn't sure.

Having secured his surroundings and his brother's presence, Sam began moving his limbs one by one and was pleased to find they all worked, even with the additional weight of the cast on his left arm. His chest and arms looked like they had railroad tracks and crossings all over them from the exorbitant amount of stitches. Sam was in good spirits for the situation he was in and began to wonder if the meds he was on might have something to do with it. For all the bruises, stitching, casts and more, he was feeling no pain. One thing he did feel was tired, incredibly tired.

Before giving in to the exhaustion, Sam tried again to remember what had happened and why he was in the hospital in the first place, but was unsuccessful. Maybe Dean had run him over with the Impala. The ridiculous notion brought a smile to Sam's damaged lips. He had annoyed his brother enough lately to provoke him. The absurd thought blended in with several others which were clearly influenced by the pain killers he was on. He wondered why Dean was the one sleeping when he was the one in the hospital bed and what name he had been admitted with. If Dean had any say, it would be something humiliating. Funny thoughts continued to roll lazily around inside his head until he drifted off to a medicated sleep.

The boys ping-ponged back and forth throughout the day, waking and sleeping, always seeming to miss each other, sometimes only by a matter of minutes. Even the staff remained unaware that their unconscious patient had finally awakened.

Once again, Dean awoke, this time to the same ponderings he had fallen asleep to hours earlier….Sam - should be awake - abused too much - given up….. He rubbed his hand across his sleepy face rebuking himself for not having shot Denton right off the bat. Damn that bastard. He actually believed what he was saying…..Sammy….a freak?...yeah, well, he could be at times, but they were never when he was having visions….evil personified?…..how the hell could anyone look into his brother's eyes and see evil. For a second, Dean actually felt a hint of pity for the man who had fallen completely into madness, lost in a world of confusion where down is up and up-down, but within seconds the sympathy had vanished. Denton deserved no pity. He had chosen that path and walked it with determination……….. Still….. Dean couldn't help but wonder if Denton's path was inevitable, laid out from the beginning in the very nature of being a hunter of evil, having studied and engaged it his whole life, being surrounded and drawn to it…... . Maybe he himself would be…..

"Any room in your head for my thoughts?" Sam inquired trying to draw his brother out of the pit he seemed to have fallen into.

Dean glanced up in amazement as his green eyes met the large brown eyes of his younger brother. Dean easily picked up the proverbial ball and ran with it, "Depends on what you're thinking, I guess." He quipped back with a crooked smile and a glint in his eyes.

"Damn, it's good to see you, Sammy."

The brothers exchanged looks which might not have meant much to the dedicated nurse, now preparing Sam's meds at his bedside, but communicated a lifetime's worth of meaning for Sam and Dean.

"You okay?" Dean questioned softly.

Sam glanced over himself briefly. "Looks like." "Just wish you hadn't run me over with your car, man." Sam teased, then winced as the realization that his freedom from pain was limited to a few pills and a glass of water. "I think maybe we should've done the drugs 15 minutes sooner."

Dean stood up about ready to tell Sam's nurse to get her act together when she turned around, needle in hand, and added the necessary pain killers to Sam's IV.

"How long til it helps?" Dean asked her worriedly. He couldn't tolerate seeing Sam in pain. His brother had suffered enough already.

The empathetic nurse, sensing his anxiety reassuringly replied, "Almost instantly. It goes directly into his blood stream this way, though it might take a little while to reach its full effect." Then she turned to Sam and compassionately asked, "Anything yet?"

Sam, not wanting to appear unappreciative, said, "Yes, thanks."

Dean knew differently. He could read his little brother like a book. He translated, "That's no, not yet" in Sammy speak."

The young nurse smiled at the brothers, admiring their obvious connection to each other. She knew Dean felt close to his little brother based on his behavior the past two weeks and it was nice to see the feelings were mutual. "It should be any minute now" she offered.

She looked into Sam's brown eyes for the first time and smiled warmly at him. "It's about time you woke up" she teased trying to distract the young man she had grown fond of during her care of him until the drugs could lessen his pain. " Don't think I could have taken your brother's living habits much longer. That chair is becoming a health hazard!" she jested.

Sam smiled amusingly over at Dean who pretended to be offended.

"You woulda grown to love me……..eventually" he quipped with his classic crooked smile.

"Yeah, yeah" she teased as she headed on her way, glad to see Dean's spirits finally lifted after watching him mope around for such a long time.

Sam snickered, amused by the relationship Dean had obviously forged with the young girl.

There was a quiet moment as the two waited anxiously for the meds to take affect.

Dean continued standing vigil at Sam's side. "Anything yet?"

"Yeah," Sam replied sincerely this time as he felt himself begin to lose his connection with reality.

"Ya want to watch some daytime TV?" he questioned, noticing the change in Sam and beginning to relax, himself. "Not much on, but it sure beats playing chess."

Normally, Dean would have loved to play chess with Sam in his medicated state. It was probably the only way he could beat him. But now, Dean loathed the game. Its association with Denton would never be forgotten.

Before Dean could find the controller, Sam spoke up.

"Hey Dean?"

Dean knew that question and tone all too well. It always occurred before Sam went all "caring and sharing" on him. Dean decided to oblige after all his brother had been through and sat down close beside him.

"Yeah, Sam."

Sam cocked his head slightly and asked, "What happened ….exactly?"

"What, you don't remember?" Dean questioned remarkably.

"No," Sam stated flatly glancing down and then back up again.

"What do you remember, Sammy?" Dean asked sympathetically, half concerned that he couldn't remember and half glad Sam had no recollection of all that he had suffered at Denton's hands.

"We were checking out properties for my vision. I take it the last one didn't go so well. Was it the Demon?" he questioned his brother. His soft brown eyes looked worriedly into Dean's, reading the distress in his brother's face.

"You could say that. Denton's the closest thing to one, anyway."

"Denton?" Sam asked as images started appearing in his head and his memory began to slowly unfold.

"Yeah, Sam, the bastard carried out his threat. You're vision…." Dean paused, swallowed hard, and glanced downward.

Sam searched Dean's eyes once they returned to his. Dean was blaming himself.

"Dean," Sam spoke kindly, "You couldn't have possibly known, even I didn't realize it was him." He paused, "It's not your fault."

"Sam," Dean sighed. "He messed you up…..damn near almost k… ." the thought was too painful for him to continue. Dean shook his head and added sadly, "I should have figured it out, Sammy……."

Sam saw a sadness in Dean's eyes he'd never seen before. "I'm good, Dean, really, and I'll be okay" he reassured his guilt ridden sibling. "How can I not be with you hovering over me,' Sam said attempting to lighten his brother's heart.

Dean appreciated Sam's faith in him even after all that had happened. Dean needed that. Sammy's faith in him was paramount.

"Yeah, well, somebody's got to watch out for your sorry ass." Dean quipped. He looked up for a smile from Sam but got a wince instead as Sam shifted uncomfortably in his bed.

Dean winced in empathy. "Still that bad? What can I do?"

"I'll be alright." Sam smiled at his brother. "It only hurts …...when I breathe," Sam offered trying to make light of his situation.

His humor was lost on Dean. Hearing anything hurt was intolerable, no, it was actually painful to the older brother. Dean couldn't help but admire his brother's courage and strength.

"Yeah, I bet."

Sam settled down covered once again by Dean's gentle tugging on his blankets.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean responded, glad he was able to do anything for his brother, glad he was alive and in need of anything.

"Hey, Dean?

"Yeah?"

"Denton. He's….."

"DEAD, Sam." Dean knew Sam's memory was returning and that, as anyone would be, he was afraid. "He's dead and he's NEVER hunting anything ever again."

Sam closed his eyes appearing to have fallen asleep, but inside he remained awake for quite a while as the memories of his torture at the hands of the seasoned old hunter became painfully vivid. Sam had never known that kind of physical pain coupled with the emotional like that and though he knew the hunter had been warped, he couldn't help but feel like maybe he was a "supernatural" and worry that maybe that part, growing up inside of him, would one day reveal itself to be everything Denton claimed it would be. Too tired to go any further with that thought, Sam drifted off to a medicated sleep looking once again for the peaceful land of oblivion.

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Author's note: There's more to come! So, keep reading and reviewing! Rachelly