Previously:

A gentle rain began to pitter patter on the window pane outside of Sam's hospital room. The lights from the parking lot reflected off the tiny water droplets as they gathered together and dribbled down to the window sill below. After listening to the soothing rhythm and watching the raindrops playfully racing each other to the bottom, Sam eventually fell asleep.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, the rain stopped and a storm began.

"Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamy"

Chapter 16

Sam's eyes flew open as sheer terror entangled its icy cold fingers throughout his spine. He bolted upright disregarding the painful tug on his newly healed skin and frantically began scanning his darkened hospital room. The hunter in him was alert and ready, the victim in him was terrified and afraid. A tiny amount of light, slipping silently under the door from the hallway, cast eerie shadows on the sterile walls and in the corners making it nearly impossible for Sam to see …but …….he sensed something…. lurking…hiding in the poorly lit corner over by the window. Straining his eyes to distinguish the presence he had detected, he cursed. The balloon that had been his cheery companion during the day had given the false impression of an ominous figure skulking… watching. Recognizing that the threat must lay elsewhere, his eyes continued attempting to scrutinize every inch of the blackened room that lay before them. Terror made it hard for him to concentrate, fear for him to be rational. Fearing that his own heavy breathing might betray him, he held his breath and listened………………..

Nothing…

Frozen, like a lake in the dead of winter unable to move or interact with what was occurring around it, he anxiously waited in the darkness, his heart pounding against his chest so hard he felt sure it would re-fracture his ribcage, shattering it beyond repair. His blood, pulsing so powerfully through his panicked body, assaulted his skull, causing it to throb painfully. Sam struggled to be the hunter his father and brother had trained him to be and was doing everything within his power not to panic. Weaponless and brother-less, he felt alone and exposed … defenseless. Trembling almost uncontrollably, he strained to hear something, anything that would indicate Denton's presence. The sound of his heartbeat was deafening in his ears making it almost impossible to hear anything at all.

Still, he saw and heard nothing.

Shivering with fear, Sam waited…...

After what seemed like an eternity, it was apparent that Denton wasn't there. Sam exhaled, unaware that he had still been holding his breath. Gasping for a fresh one, his ribs moaned under the pressure of the intake. He had to concentrate on breathing more slowly in order to begin to calm himself down, his heart rate as well. Relieved and exhausted, he laid himself back against his pillow which crinkled underneath him, and rubbed his throbbing forehead.

Totally confused, he began to question himself. Had he imagined the eerie call? Maybe he had been dreaming or lingering in a dreamlike state, somewhere between sleep and awake, unable to discern reality from fiction. When he'd heard his vicious captor's voice, he had just assumed Denton had been there in the room with him.

Sam looked over to his nightstand. His eyes lingered on the phone resting on the pristine tabletop. Everything inside of him wanted to call Dean. It was an instinct, really. Whenever Sam felt threatened, even at Stanford, his heart would cry out for Dean. But in the quiet of the hospital room, he just couldn't rationalize calling his brother at….Sam looked at his clock….4am. There was no discernable threat here. Sam felt no presence in the room with him and wasn't sure there ever had been. His brother deserved a good night's sleep and what Sam presumed to be a nightmare just didn't justify disturbing him.

Sam eventually settled down in his bed and covered himself with his blanket much like his brother had done so many times in the past. He missed Dean. His brother's presence had meant a lot to him and been a significant part of his heeling, his feeling secure…safe. He found it odd that he had been so independent of him at Stanford a little over a year ago and yet now, found one night apart to be unbearable. God, he was messed up. He wondered if he would ever feel safe alone again, ever be the same, independent person he used to be.

Sleep escaped the weary patient. For the rest of the morning, he lay there, awake, waiting for sunrise which, in Sam's opinion, couldn't come soon enough.

Five hours later, Sam heard Dean's voice cheerfully greeting the hospital staff on his way to his brother's room. At first they didn't seem to recognize him. His hair was clean cut and neatly parted. His face was smooth having been fresh shaven and his clothes actually had color to them instead of the dungy grey from having been worn too long. He stopped briefly to sign his brother's name to the release papers and thanked everyone for all they had done.

Dean's demeanor was almost humorous; he was giddy in fact, if that were humanly possible for Dean. Leaving the hospital marked the official end of all the medical concerns that had been associated with Sam and the beginning of the return to the life they had grown accustomed to and even, at times, enjoyed. His excitement was contagious. Even the staff seemed to be influenced by it, either that or they were just happy Dean was finally on his way out.

Dean's appearance brought a wave of relief which washed refreshingly over his younger brother. Somehow, just laying eyes on Dean caused Sam to breathe a little easier.

Sam attempted to sit up and while pain remained as a constant companion, he was surprised to find it not that intolerable. The IV had been removed and it was obvious that he would be taking his meds orally from now on as Dean attempted to juggle the many pill bottles he held in his two hands.

"Morning, Sammy. Ready to hit the road?" Dean questioned cheerfully.

"Yeah," Sam replied reservedly.

"I signed you out …..You spell Sammy with an "ie" right?" he teased as a devilish smile swept across his face.

Dean waited for a comment, but one never came. He eyed his brother suspiciously.

Sam's demeanor was anything but lighthearted and Dean became concerned. Waiting until the last medical person left the room, he turned to approach his troubled sibling.

"You okay, little brother?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered as he attempted to get up to dress.

Dean knew that tone was Sammy-speak for no.

"What's wrong?" Dean questioned with concern newly painted on his face.

Sam didn't answer. He was running silent like a submarine that didn't wish to give away its position. Instead, he shifted in order to sit up.

"Need help?" Dean 'pinged', sympathetically trying to discern the cause of his brother's dismay.

"Yeah, kinda " Sam 'pinged' back quietly.

Having made "contact", Dean stuffed the pill bottles in his pockets. He gently helped his somewhat fragile brother sit and turn so that his legs swung freely off the side of the bed. Sam winced a bit, but pushed through the pain. Dean was having trouble deciding if it was too soon to take Sam out.

"Maybe we should give it another day, Sam."

"No…. I'll be fine."

Dean eyed Sam doubtfully, but respected his brother's desire to keep his thoughts to himself. One thing about Sammy, if he wanted to shut down, there was nothing you could do about it. The kid had introspection down to an art form.

"Here, take these," Dean offered not knowing if it was the pain, the night alone, or a nightmare that had sobered him.

Dean uncapped one of the many prescriptions practically falling out of his leather pockets and handed two small pills to Sam.

"This one's supposed to taste like a gummy worms," he teased his brother, summing up his lanky frame. His attempt at humor fell once again to the floor.

Sam quietly placed the pills in his mouth, and graciously received the water his brother had hustled to get while he waited.

"Thanks."

"You owe me, man" Dean teased. "You shoulda seen the nurse I had to sweet talk to get it. She…..….(Dean furrowed his eyebrows)….or he was scary."

Sam's serious face broke a slight smile, amused by his brother's attempt to humor him. Dean of course was pleased his brother was amused.

Sam rose, chose his clothes, and dressed as best he could under the circumstances. Dean had brought a couple different shirts, unsure of what his brother would be able to wear comfortably. While he didn't like that he had been unconscious for so long, his brother worrying all the while, he was glad he had been spared the pain that must have been present while he was "out". Clothes hurt. They were not the light fabrics of the hospital gowns Sam had been wearing these past few weeks. Just the touch of his t-shirt against his skin was painful. Not the deep, knife in the chest kind of pain, but none the less, it was still painful.

Allowing Sam a bit of privacy, Dean walked around his little brother's room. He began collecting the things which had taken up residency along with Dean and had helped the brothers move forward. He grabbed the worn out checker board which was now missing a piece that Dean suspected Sam had hidden to avoid playing anymore, the stuffed dog, which Sam had affectionately named Sadie and sat on the nightstand to guard his candy stash, the last chocolate candy bar that Dean had actually removed, eaten, and repackaged so that Sam would think it was still there, and his "valuables" which consisted basically of the watch his dad had given him on his sixteenth birthday and thin pieces of leather.

Sam's leather "rope" that he always wore around his wrist had been cut off prior to surgery and somehow ended up on his nightstand. Its pieces, though seemingly insignificant to the staff, had been recently rescued from the trash by Sam. Dean smiled, glancing down at his matching rope on his own wrist which symbolized the "Brother's for Life" oath they had taken when they were kids. It still amused Dean because of course they were brothers for life no matter what. The powers that be had ordained it so. Still, he and Sammy's little ritual had somehow made the wrist wear something significant and though they didn't speak of it, they both knew its meaning and treasured the memory.

Dean tossed them all into a laundry bag that had been hanging in his hospital room closet before he had decided it needed a new home. Glancing into the bag of everything "valuable" his brother owned, Dean smiled. Sammy didn't have much in the bag and yet the bag was "full", full of the love a father and brother had for him. For one so young, his brother was quite a wealthy kid.

Dean became distracted by the sound of his brother zipping his jacket. It was the jacket's way of saying, "we're done here and ready to go".

"Ya good?" Dean asked already knowing his brother's answer.

Sam was on autopilot, even Dean could tell that. The question was… why? He decided it would be best to talk when they could be alone, and alone for Sam and Dean was in the Impala. It was a quiet and safe place to talk, emotionally anyways, Metallica was hardly quiet, at least not the way Dean played it.

"Yeah" Sam answered distractedly.

Just prior to leaving, Dean glanced back over the room…the "Get Well Soon-er" Mylar balloon was laying tiredly on the floor, the nightstand, having finally been cleaned up by the night shift Dean presumed, once again begged for junk to be thrown on it. Dean felt he should oblige, reached in his pocket, and he tossed his Kit Kat wrapper on its perfectly clean top. The bed was empty, finally…and not soon enough. It was the good kind of empty…the kind where someone has recovered and gone on with life not the kind where someone had died and was gone. Dean was so grateful it was the good kind. The thought of anything else… well, he couldn't go there.

Dean escorted Sam to the car and after carefully helping him to get comfortable enough to make it to the motel, they headed off. He periodically glanced in his little brother's direction trying to figure out what was going on inside his head. Sam continued to remain silent, his demeanor was serious. Dean was pretty sure now, that Sam had been tortured by another nightmare and he kicked himself that he hadn't been there overnight to help him through it.

"Ya want to talk about it?" he questioned again, openly inviting a "caring, sharing" kinda moment.

He figured there would need to be a lot of these over the next few days and he was more than willing to participate, even initiate, if it would help his brother make it through whatever forest he seemed to have stumbled back into. Dean couldn't quite make it out.

Sam looked over to Dean and nodded. While his head bobbed no, his eyes said otherwise. Sam's eyes….they were always communicating something….always drawing people in, always searching for understanding, expressing care and concern. This time, however, they communicated something different….

"What's up? Dean insisted gently.

Sam sadly shook his head, side to side, while remaining silent.

Growing frustrated with the inability to help, Dean decided to go on the offensive.

"It's Denton, isn't it?" Dean asked. He felt a flash of anger at the mere mention of the bastard's name.

Sam remained quiet once again. His silence was very telling.

"You have another dream?" Dean asked worriedly knowing what the other one had done to his brother and feeling frustrated that he hadn't been there when it happened.

"I guess so." Sam answered quietly

"You guess so? What's that s'pposed to mean?"

Sam sighed heavily and spoke barely in a whisper. "I heard Denton's voice last night."

Dean's eyes flashed over to Sam; his heart began beating wildly in his chest. "WHAT! Sam, why the hell didn't you tell me! You should have called! Damn it! Did he hurt you? That son of a bitch is soooo dead! I'll burn his sorry ass!"

"Dean"

Dean was literally shaking. It was hard enough to protect Sam when the malicious hunter was a person, but a spirit….? The thought of that demented madman hunting Sam again boiled his rage to the point of steam. With the added touch of fear, Dean had created a near hysterical brew.

"Dean!"

Sam's voice drew his attention away from his mad chemistry and he glanced over at his brother. His own reaction has not allowed him to focus on Sam's. Quieting down from his tirade, trying to once again find the balance between the brother and the warrior inside of him, he listened to what his little brother had to say.

"It's not like that. At first, I thought he was in the room with me…but I checked it out, man, he wasn't there. I guess I just heard him in my head, in my dream." Sam reassured his brother.

"So you're sure it wasn't him. I mean…that he wasn't there. It was just a nightmare?"

Dean cringed as soon as he said it….just a nightmare…Sam's nightmares were a lot worse than that and if Denton had been in it, his little brother was probably a mess.

"Looks like" Sam responded not offended by Dean's comment. He preferred it was one of his terrible nightmares rather than Denton returning to do God knows what to him.

Dean looked over at Sam sympathetically. His heart ached for his little brother. He'd been through so much, already. Damn, couldn't the kid get a break?

"I'm sorry, man. I should have been there." Dean answered. "Was it the same dream as before?"

"No. He was calling my name. It was eerie…. really freaked me out."

Dean felt the anger erupt once again inside of him. He hated Denton and what the bastard had done to Sam. His brother couldn't heal until he knew he was safe and Dean was gonna make damn sure he felt safe tonight!

"Sam, you been through hell. " Dean offered sympathetically, "The bastard messed with your head and it's only natural that this is gonna linger for a bit, especially in your head at night when you're asleep and you can't reason. You gotta give yourself some time, man. Shit like that takes time to get over. But I promise you, we're gonna finish this once and for all. You got that? It ends tonight!... Okay?"

Sam turned away and looked out the window; his answer came in the form of a nod

"Okay!" Dean insisted that Sam answer. He knew his brother needed to.

"Yeah, okay" Sam answered pensively.

There was a moment of quiet between the brothers as they headed back to the motel to give Sam a rest. It was going to be a long night and Sam needed to recoup his strength. Dean glanced a few times at Sam to be sure his little brother was still with him.

"You gonna be alright?" Dean questioned finally.

"I will be" Sam answered as he looked over at Dean with a thankful smile.

His confidence was in Dean… and in his words…. and, in the plan… salt and burn! He was relieved Denton would be finished before the night was through. The thought of sleeping another night and facing Denton in his dreams was unbearable.

They rode the rest of the way to the motel in silence. Dean carefully planned their next few moves and Sam rested his head against the window. He was exhausted but not quite willing to doze, fearing sleep would bring on that dreaded voice.

After arriving, Dean helped Sam into the motel and insisted he take a rest. Sam argued a bit, but after being assured that Dean would sit and watch over him, he decided to oblige.

Dean sat down in the chair that had nearly swallowed him whole weeks earlier. Dean made a few phone calls to determine the location of Denton's grave and though he would have preferred to scope the place out before hand, he didn't dare leave Sam alone to be victimized once again in his sleep.

Dean hovered over Sam as he slept. At first he didn't think he was actually sleeping, he lay so still and quiet, but his slow, steady breathing confirmed that he was. It was unusual for him to sleep without wrestling with his sheets and blankets. Dean could only guess that it was probably painful for Sam to move around and, though he was asleep, his body knew to avoid it.

As far as Dean was concerned, night couldn't come fast enough. Sam's question about Denton returning had actually freaked him out the other day and now this. He was eager to get the whole thing behind them. He wanted closure for Sam. He knew he needed it and he fervently anticipated the blessed moment when Denton would burn for all of eternity.