Chapter 14

Dean brushed his hand, now torn from his brother's grasp, across his face attempting to wipe away his tears and worries along with them. He had dreaded this moment; hoped that, somehow, Sam would be spared the painful memory of his torture and the ability to relive it in his mind. Instead, like a grain of sand powerless against a mighty ocean, his brother had been overcome by it, forcefully picked up, thrashed about mercilessly in its unyielding surf, and dashed upon an unforgiving shore. The weight of all of Sam's suffering had come crashing down on the already weakened sibling and Dean was powerless to do anything to help him and couldn't even be at his side. The sterile hospital doors swung nonchalantly back and forth – flaunting their powers to separate the brothers.

Feeling like an amputee who just had something precious taken from him, Dean turned around and began to search the waiting room for a place to sit. The room was full of faces: sad ones, fearful ones, tired ones, and tearful ones…waiting…all waiting... Anxiety hung in the air like smog in a polluted city choking the life out of everyone breathing it. Not wanting to see or be seen, Dean buried his head in his hands and waited along with everyone else.

In what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only hours, Sam's nurse gently tapped Dean's knee and softly called his name. She had come to check on Sam, whom she'd grown quite fond of while he had been unconscious under her care the past week. Having spoken with the doctors, she approached Dean to offer him some comfort.

"Dean" she said softly.

Dean raised his over scruffy face and looked at her with sad eyes.

"Hey, Sarah" he softly replied pleased to see a familiar face, one that knew him and Sam and what they had been through.

She looked into his broken, weary eyes and her heart went out to him.

"He's gonna be okay." She offered smiling kindly as she took a seat beside him.

"You talked to his doctor? Dean questioned wearily, desperate to hear any news, preferably the good kind.

"He'll be out in a bit to give you more details, but Sam is going be just fine." Her voice was soft and soothing. She offered such compassion.

While grateful for the news, Dean searched her eyes for something more and she graciously obliged.

"They had to redo some of his sutures, but his X-rays look fine, his bones are still in proper alignment and there's no internal bleeding which is good, really good. He's going to be fine, Dean, probably uncomfortable for a while, but fine."

Dean nodded, pleased with the news as well as the bearer of it.

"Thanks…you know….for……this" he said awkwardly, smiling appreciatively back, referring to her kindness and help in getting him info on Sam.

"You be strong. Your little brother's going to need you." She encouraged. Then slapping his knee gently, twice, she stood up. "I'll see you both back upstairs."

Her use of the word both was deliberate and appreciated. Sam would be okay and resting in his room soon, with Dean.

Dean took a deep breath and exhaled it along with most of the worries that had been choking him from the inside.

The doctor's update gave Dean little more information than he already had, but a whole lot more reassurance that Sam would be okay….physically that is.

Emotionally, however, Dean was just not sure. Having seen the conquered, despondent look in his little brother's eyes as he was wheeled into triage, he recognized the emotional healing would be harder than the physical. Sam was lost in the blackened tunnel of defeat and despair where no glimmer of light could be seen in any direction. Having been broken, he lay wounded on the cold ground, unable to move, only able to see the darkness that lay endlessly before him. Blinded with fear and overcome with hopelessness, unable to discern if there's even a way out, he cried out for the one whom he trusts; the one he knows will find him and deliver him to safety….Dean.

The warrior heart in Dean awakens, stirred by the desperate call of his languishing brother. He readies himself to do battle with the defeating darkness permeating the crowded corridors of his brother's tortured mind, to reach in and grasp his entangled sibling caught in the clutches of hopelessness, to bear his burden and carry him to safety. Dean was willing to do whatever was needed, for however long, to help Sam come to terms with what Denton had done to him in the many hours he was held captive, tortured at the hands of the madman. His little brother's well being was deeply ingrained in the very fibers of Dean's being and he could do no less.

With new resolve, Dean stood up and began to make his way back to his brother's room silently planning his next few moves. The emotional world was somewhat unfamiliar to Dean. It's not that he doesn't have feelings, quite the contrary, he feels a lot and deeply. It's that he doesn't communicate them often and is unsure how to respond to them in his brother. When Sam shares his feelings, they affect him deeply and he finds it difficult to maintain his composure so, he tends to avoid them. Not this time. He would be a listener, a sympathizer, a father, and a friend… a brother, a counselor…. whatever was necessary to help his brother mend. He would be gentle when needed, but firm when required.

A familiar gift shop on the first floor caught Dean's eye again. Its balloons were bopping up and down, trying to creep out into the hallway; their bright colors beckoning to the passers by that they were ready to fulfill their cheerful destinies. Dean remembered that Sammy's balloon was looking a bit tired and decided to oblige. He would begin his emotional triage with a quick stop in the gift shop. Needing weapons for the battle that lay ahead, he armed himself with chocolate, a checker board, a stuffed dog (Sammy loves dogs), and a new balloon. The sales clerk smiled cheerfully, proud of her great salesmanship, and wished "Mr. Fixit" a happy day.

Upon Dean's arrival, he surveyed Sam's room. It looked pretty much the same, well, except it lacked a certain little brother of course. Sam's balloon had lost its enthusiasm and was sadly hovering just above the floor. Dean replaced it with the new one he had just picked up. This time the words "Get Well Soon" had an "er" added at the end in scribbly black marker. Dean placed another stack of chocolate candy bars and a bag of gummy worms beside Sam's pile on the nightstand. He checked the room one last time; he wanted it to be….. well, cheery. He cringed at the word, but he knew his brother would need it. Then he sat down and waited.

A few hours later, Sam was wheeled back to his room where Dean sat waiting for him. He was still out cold but he looked a hell of a lot better than he did when he left. Still, Dean was taken back by his brother's appearance. It wasn't that his bruised and battered body looked worse or that the pale color of his face had lightened or even that the bandages on his chest were fresh, indicating the newness of his injuries, no it was the unconscious stillness that was unbearable… too familiar…too painful.

Dean began his bedside vigil again, checking on Sam's blanket, pulling it up and re-tucking it around his shoulders. Dean paused briefly standing at his bedside and looked down on his sleeping brother whose face seemed so young, so weak, so vulnerable. Dean placed his hand on top of Sam's head and rested it there for a moment.

"God, Sammy, you never get a break, do you little brother?" Dean said sadly,

"You're gonna be okay, Sam" he softly whispered gently moving his hand down to his brother's shoulder. "We'll get through this. I'll make damn sure of it." he promised in the quiet of the room as his brother slept on.

It was a promise made for the moment with a lifetime guarantee. Dean would always make damn sure Sam was okay, that he was 'making it'. After all, Dean had always been in the "Sam" business and always would be. His product…Sam; his client…Sam. Dean had practically raised his kid, cared for him, taught him how to tie his shoes, read, play soccer, even taught him how to throw knives much to his Dad's displeasure when he had to repair the motel's bedroom wall. Dean was quite proud of what his business "produced"…Sam was great….well at least most of the time. When Sam was lacking or needing "improvements" Dean was on his ass making sure he shaped up.

As he grew up, Sam became more of a client; someone whose needs he would try to understand and meet, cater to, and please. He would look after him, protect his interests, absorb his shortcomings, cheer him, and 'hold his hand'. This past year, after Jessica's death, Dean had installed a window to provide better communication between him and his client. One that could be opened and closed as needed based on his client's needs and Dean was learning how to better supply the requests being made through it. The damage done by Denton was yet to be determined, but Dean was fully prepared to do whatever was needed including changing the window into a double doorway if necessary.

Sam opened his eyes a few hours later to a chess board ceiling and blinding white lights. His mind was groggy but he knew where he was. He knew without looking that there was a somewhat cheerful Mylar balloon in the corner trying desperately to complete its task of urging him to get well soon and a scruffy looking brother slouching in the tacky chair beside him. He slowly turned his head in his brother's direction.

Dean sat quietly with his eyes fixed on Sam. Ready and waiting for whatever came through the "window".

"Hey" Dean offered when his brother's eyes fixed on him. His mood was quiet; concern was evident in his voice.

"Hey" Sam replied softly back. His eyes still carried the look he had left the room with…defeated.

"Doc says your gonna be okay" Dean reassured his brother

"Yeah?" Sam asked halfheartedly.

"Yeah" Dean answered taking in his brother's sad demeanor.

The two boys paused for a moment, neither unsure of quite what to say about what had happened earlier.

"You feel okay?" Dean questioned trying to confirm Sam was physically going to be okay.

"Considering…" Sam answered once again quietly.

"Need anything?" Dean continued, wanting to reach out to his brother but not knowing exactly where to start.

"Naw" Sam replied, appreciating Dean's presence and concern.

The two sat in silence for a moment. Dean was at a loss for words.

A nurse came in and added something to Sam's IV.

"What's that for?" Dean questioned protectively. "He's not due for pain killers for another hour."

The nurse, amused by Dean's interest answered, "The doctor is upping his dose to help him be more comfortable."

"Won't that put him to sleep?" Dean questioned. "He just woke up!"

Dean wanted more time with his little brother before he dozed off, time to make sure he was okay, inside, not just on the outside, time to talk if his little brother needed it. Truth be told, Dean needed it just as much as Sam did.

"It might make him a bit groggy, but he'll be more comfortable."

Suddenly, Dean turned to Sam, the nurse's comment hit him.

"Are you uncomfortable?" he questioned worriedly.

"Not really"

Relieved, he told the nurse, "He's not uncomfortable", hoping to stop her.

Suddenly Sam's comment hit him and he turned back to Sam.

"What do you mean, not really? Are you in pain?"

Dean's routine was getting humorous. Sam smiled. He was amused that his brother had any clue as to what was going on and even more so that Dean wanted to be with him…awake. Dean was usually telling him to get some sleep and it just seemed ironic.

"Course I'm in pain, Dean, I mean look at me!"

Dean studied his brother taking in his bruises, stitches and cast.

"Yeah, okay, you better give him the stuff…maybe even a little extra…he's in pain." Dean suggested. He didn't want his little brother to be feeling any pain.

The nurse laughed out loud causing Dean to blush slightly.

"What?" Dean questioned innocently. " You people go in and out switching every hour, every day…it's hard to keep up with you…I just want to be sure you know what you're doing."

The nurse glanced over at Sam with pitying eyes.

"Best friend?" she asked sympathetically. Dean perked up proudly.

"Brother" Sam corrected rolling his eyes and smiling. Dean looked sideways not sure if he had been complimented or insulted.

The nurse gave a knowing nod and Sam beamed.

Dean, seeing Sammy smiling, grinned right along with him.

God it was good to see Sam smile. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever see his little brother smile after the realization of what had happened had hit him so hard. The image of his brother collapsed on the floor retching, writhing in pain, dissolving into tears flashed back into his mind. He would do anything to keep that smile on his little brother's face and he set out to do just that.

"Got ya a new balloon" Dean offered breaking the moment of quiet.

Sam glanced over at the new balloon bobbing cheerfully in the corner.

"Get Well Soon-er?" Sam questioned Dean with his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, well, this balloons smaller… 'little brother' didn't fit!" Dean quipped back. "Coulda got you a "It's a Girl!" balloon." Dean teased.

Sam snorted. "Jerk!"

"B…." Dean held his tongue. The nurse was still in the room. Sam smiled pleased with his good fortune.

Both boys smiled at their inside joke.

The nurse having no clue as to what was going on finished up and went on her way.

For all his quirks, Sam loved his big brother and was grateful for his humorous show. He knew his brother was doing it up a bit to cheer him up and he loved him for it. Yes, they would need to talk about what happened, but for now it felt good to step away from it all and just enjoy being brothers again.

Soon after Sam's eyes began to droop as the medication took its affect. He glanced over to the balloon in the corner noticing its colors beginning to swirl. He looked back at Dean and smiled before he closed his blurring eyes and was out.

"Sleep well, little brother, sleep well" Dean encouraged feeling a sadness finding its way back into his heart. With all the smiles, with all the teasing, Dean could see in Sam's eyes a pain that would need to be relieved. He only hoped he could find a way to help his brother let it out and that he'd have the words to help him heal.

Sam awoke and glanced over, looking for his brother. He found him napping in his usual 'bed'; his head was hanging over the back of the chair, his scruffy chin pointed upwards, and a smile was splashed across his face. An occasional snore escaped his mouth.

Sam smiled as he lay watching his older brother. He couldn't help but wonder what the heck his brother dreamed about that he would have a smile like that. Sam wouldn't mind having a good dream now and then himself, but his were rarely good. Nightmares, always nightmares, some of them horrible like the one he just had. Sam's mind began to wander back to his nightmare. He couldn't even think about the physical torture. It sickened him and he didn't want to have a repeat performance from the night before.

Instead, his mind focused on Denton's prediction and his words. He feared that maybe the demented hunter was right, that his abilities were somehow related to the demon in an evil sort of way, that he was an abomination, a monster yet to be revealed and that terrified him. That, coupled with the demon's bold threat of having plans for Sam, was petrifying. Demons lie. Sam already knew that. Dean told him so when the demon on the plane talked about Jess. Sam could only hope the demon's threat of plans for him was a lie and nothing more. Denton, however, wasn't lying. He truly believed Sam was evil and though he was clearly demented, his opinion seemed to hold some weight in Sam's mind, though undeservedly, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was somehow going to be evil one day. It was grabbing hold of his inner fears and Sam was feeling defenseless against it.

Dean stirred and studied his brother's face. His silence, his downcast eyes, his somber demeanor…. Sam needed to talk and he was happy to oblige.

"You okay?"

"Yeah"

Dean ignored Sam's response knowing full well that he wasn't. He opened the "window" initiating the much needed "caring, sharing" conversation that was waiting to blow through.

"You remember, don't you?" Dean asked gently.

Sam turned away and looked towards the window.

Dean hesitated before continuing. He wasn't sure he could handle hearing the details, hearing what Denton had done…said…, but he knew his brother's well being was at stake and he would go through anything for him.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Sam paused and looked at his brother. Dean allowed him the time he needed to find his words. After what seemed like an eternity, Sam began.

"What he did to me, Dean, ……..it was sick." Sam's voice cracked and began shaking. Tears puddle up in his sad recollecting eyes.

Dean's body tensed as he felt his heart tighten in his chest, but he nodded for Sam to go on.

"…. How could he hate me that much?" Sam questioned innocently searching his brother's eyes for an answer.

Dean looked at Sam not really understanding it himself.

"He didn't hate you, Sammy- He didn't even know you." Dean offered compassionately feeling Sam's despair.

Sam glanced away painfully. His brother's words drew him back.

"He hated what he created you to be in his mind- there's a difference."

"He said I was evil, Dean, an abomination."

Dean leaned forward close to Sam. He wanted to make his point clear and authoritatively.

"Denton couldn't tell evil if it came up and bit him on his self-righteous ass, Sam! There is no way in hell you are evil."

The bastard was crazy, Sam, buckets o' crazy -like Meg, only worse… because he didn't have possession as his excuse. He was demented, blinded by his own hatred. Don't let him mess with your head. You are NOT evil!

"Don't you worry, man… Don't you worry about what I could….. become?" Sam questioned frighteningly.

"Become? No! No way, Sam!"

"Yeah, but what if I do turn…. you know… dark side?"

"Snever gonna happen! You hear me? Not now, not ever! I know you, man, obviously better than you know yourself right now. There isn't even a shade of grey about you…dark side? It ain't gonna happen. Trust me!"

Sam seemed to settle a bit and find comfort in Dean's words. Dean did know him and Sam trusted him completely. If Dean was sure he was good and would remain so, that was good enough for Sam.

"Hope you're right" Sam conceded.

"I am right. And you are going to be alright" Dean stated emphatically. "You know why, don't you?" Dean questioned with his crooked smile, trying to lighten Sam up a bit.

"Yeah, you told me"

Dean nodded his head, but he couldn't help himself and he said it anyways… "As long as I'm around….."

"…nothing bad is gonna happen to me" Sam answered smiling at his brother.

Dean smiled back. He could tell he had finally gotten through the thick skull that Sam called his head.

Sam's smile faded slightly as the wheels finished their final rotation in his mind. It seemed he had one more thing that was lurking unresolved. He looked back at Dean.

"What?" Dean questioned his little brother trying to draw him out.

Seeing Sam hesitate, he asked again.

"What?"

"Denton planned to kill me, right?"

"He's dead, Sam! He's not gonna get the chance." Dean declared trying to put his brother's fears to rest once and for all.

Sam continued to appear restless and Dean knew there was more to come. He once again waited patiently, giving his brother time to gather his thoughts and the courage needed to express them.

"….. Denton vowed to kill me, absolutely hated me….. I saw it in his eyes as he…." Sam paused, the words just stuck in his throat. He took a deep breath. " I heard his voice, Dean, when he said all those things."

Dean waited for Sam's ball to drop. Whatever it was, it had put the fear right back into his little brother's eyes.

"You don't think he would…. you know…..come back to finish the job, do you?" he asked fearfully.

"What, like a spirit?" Dean inquired sensing his little brother's trepidation and trying to understand exactly what he was saying.

Sam cocked his head, raised his eyebrows and nodded. "…an angry spirit…" Sam corrected.

The questioned struck Dean in the chest like a sledgehammer. Damn, the son of a bitch tortured Sam while alive and now he was going to torture him even dead.

"No, Sam, he's not coming back and we're gonna make damn sure he doesn't!" Dean answered assertively.

Sam smiled; he knew what Dean was thinking.

"We'll salt and burn his supernatural hunting ass' bones." Dean retorted.

Sam took courage in knowing there would be finality in regard to Denton. He took great comfort just knowing that Dean believed in him and didn't fear what he would eventually become. He drew strength in knowing that he would not become the evil abomination Denton had claimed he would be. Sam was going to be okay. Dean knew it, and somewhere deep inside, beyond the memories, pain, and fears, Sam knew it too. Dean would be there to help Sam through this and he would come safely out on the other side.

The brothers looked at each other and smiled. Each recognizing that they were going to be okay. They had each other, they had their lives, and they would die protecting them. Ironic in a way, but comforting none the less.

There's more coming…keep reading and reviewing! Rachelly