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Chapter Nine

Push

By Dawn Nyberg

"… You've seen me at my weakest, but you take me as I am. And, when I fall you offer me a softer place to land. You stay the course you hold the line you keep it all together. You're the one true thing I know I can believe in … I get mad so easy, but you give me room to breathe. No matter what I say or do 'cause you're too good to fight about it, even when I have to push just to see how far you'll go, you won't stoop down to battle, but you never turn to go. There are times I can't decide when I can't tell up from down, you make me feel less crazy when otherwise I'd drown, but you pick me up and brush me off, and tell me I'm OK sometimes that's just what we need to get us through the day." Lyric excerpt by Sarah McLachlan, Push

Dean covered his face with a single hand as his shoulders shook. The words Thanks Dean still were echoing in his head. Quiet sobs escaped beneath his hand. Sam sat stunned, and then his face scrunched into one of concern. He couldn't figure out what he had said or done to make his big brother cry. Dean never cried.

"S… S… Sorry," Sam pushed out as quickly as he could. "Not know what did. Not mean … to hurt." Sam's distraught voice broke through Dean's tears, and he looked up from his hand to meet his brother's warm and fear filled eyes. Sam saw the large tears of his brother's cascade down his cheeks, and he couldn't look away from the glassy, bloodshot hazel eyes peeking out from behind his hand.

"No, no, Sammy," Dean stepped forward offering a tentative smile in an attempt to reassure his brother. "Sammy, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Not true. You cry. I make sad." Sam's face was dissolving into desperation as he fought to arrange his words, and his brain rebelled against him. He wanted so desperately to express himself to his big brother, but the words he wanted to say would either get lost on the way from his mind to his mouth or come out as they almost always did, jumbled and incomplete. He fisted his hand and struck the mattress beneath him.

"No, Sammy. Stop, you might hurt yourself," he urged as he stepped forward stopping his brother from repeatedly striking the mattress. "These are happy tears Sammy, not sad." Sam looked hard at his brother, and his face softened into a small smile.

"Happy?" His voice sounded questioning. "Never cry." Dean's response was a wet kind of sounding laugh that was a mixture of tears and laughter.

"Yeah, well, must be a blue moon, huh?" Dean quipped. Sam gave him an odd look at the reply. "Never mind Sammy," he replied. "You made me happy that's all."

"Dean?" The sound of that one word caused Dean's throat to tighten. He bunched a fist at his side trying desperately to funnel his emotions to that one fist. His tears happy or not scared Sammy right now, and he'd try to hold back. He felt the moment rise up in him and recede back, and as the feeling unclenched itself from him his fist released.

"Yeah, Sammy?" He tried to make his voice light.

"Took step today." Sam thought some news may take his brother's mind off his tears.

"Huh? You mean Mel had you walk today," Dean couldn't help, but feel upset that he hadn't been here to see. "Dammit, sorry I missed it Sammy."

"Not miss." Sam replied. "Just one step and fall."

"Fall!"

"No, Mel not let fall." Sam saw Dean's face and shoulders relax as he learned his brother hadn't fallen or been injured. Dean smiled at his little brother. "What?" Sam asked with curious eyes.

"Nothing," Dean offered. "It's just nice that you're being a chatter bird tonight. You've been quiet most nights lately. It's nice that's all."

"How work?"

"Hey, you don't want to hear about that stuff," Dean suggested. "I want to know about your day today. What about speech therapy and you had occupational therapy today too, right?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Not want talk me. Talk you."

"Okay, okay," Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Nothing too big Sammy. The garage is pretty busy, so I keep myself entertained. Rebuilt a transmission today … nothing too fantastic, but the money's good, and my boss Larry is a good guy."

"Work by self?"

"You mean do I work alone?" Sam nodded. "Nah, there are three other guys there, too. Ah, Riley, Juan and Scott. They're nice. I don't hang out with them, well, maybe a beer once, but I got other things to do ya know? I get off a couple hours before they do anyway, so I don't really get the chance."

"You okay, Dean?"

"Huh? Yeah, of course, kiddo," Dean assured. "You don't have to worry about your big brother."

"Still worry." Sam relented. Dean smiled and reached up and ruffled his brother's hair before he could stop himself.

"You need a haircut Samantha," he quipped trying to cover the chick flick moment.

"Like hair. No cut." Sam answered emphatically.

Two Hours Later

Dean sat watching Sam who had fallen asleep about twenty minutes ago. His attention was brought to the door as Kyle; Sam's evening attendant came into the room. "Just wanted to check on him," Kyle voice was hushed. Sam's muscle coordination wasn't enough to properly get himself turned at night, so he still needed help, but he was making efforts to do it on his own. "Has he been asleep long?"

"Nah, about twenty minutes. How's his sleep when I leave? I mean nightmares or anything?"

"He's been good. He moves in his sleep, but just doesn't quite change positions like he should, so I'm still helping him with that. Sam's doing well." Dean nodded.

Dean's Apartment

Dean pulled into his parking spot. It was a small complex owned by a mom and pop couple. He had counted the number of units when he moved in, and there were only 14 apartments an assortment of studio, one and two bedroom units. All units were on the ground level which the hunter in him preferred, and the tenet in him liked because no one lived on top of you and he didn't have to listen to people walking on his ceiling. He had a reserved spot in from of his studio. He liked having his own place, but it wasn't home, not yet, not without Sammy.

He walked into his studio and slid the bakery box into his fridge. He clicked on the TV and put the evening news on mostly for background noise, as he grabbed his black journal. He smiled at the notion that since Sam's injury he hadn't written any hunting entries in his journal, but the new entries were plentiful, but was about his life right now, and a lot was about Sammy. He would write when ever an improvement happened or sometimes just because. He grabbed an ink pen to write an entry, but the journal slipped from his hand as he opened it and it flipped to the carpet. He could see it landed on an entry and he decided to read it.

April 10, 2006

Sammy spoke today. He said, 'no.' I guess some people would say that isn't much, but I'm not some people. He smiled at me today, too, and it was a real smile, not some reflex type thing. I can see him get frustrated at the speech therapy, and until today, he had only been making noises. It scares me that he knows something isn't right with him, and I hate it that I can't take this on for him. He's awake and out of the coma, but I still feel like he's lost in the dark, and dammit, I hate feeling helpless.

Dean continued to glance at the entry, and smiled at the memory of how excited he had been when Sam had said 'no,' in response to something, and he had really meant to say 'no' it was the first time Sam had expressed himself, and made himself understood. He turned a few pages, and randomly stopped on another entry.

April 20, 2006

Work is good. I guess I never knew what earning a real paycheck was like. Sammy still hasn't called me by name. Dr. Myers tells me he will in time, but she can't give me a reason why he hasn't. Part of me is afraid that Sam doesn't remember me and that he just knows my face because I'm always around. But, Mel tells me Sam knows I'm his brother, and knows what that means. I never knew how out whack my perspective was on life until Sammy got sick. I mean, when he was in the hospital all I could think about was 'I can't lose him' and I've never been so afraid. And, before he collapsed, my main focus was hunting, always the hunt. Damn I was so stupid. I'm still pissed at Dad for giving up on Sam, but as much as I want to say I can't see where he's coming from, I guess I sort of do. He doesn't want to see his child, our Sammy in a state any less than what he was. But, still I get angry when I think about him.

Sam's birthday is coming up soon and I can't explain how light that makes me feel. I know he's not back to the Sam that was before he got sick, and part of me gets that he may never be totally back to what he was, but it doesn't really sink in, you know? All I know is I have my brother back in my life, and when he looks at me truly seeing me, and smiles, nothing seems wrong anymore. And, I can see so much potential, and a little bit of Sammy's light rubs off on me and my shadows don't own me.

Dean shook his head with mild amusement at reading his words. He found some humor in the fact he'd suddenly turned literary, Sammy would be so proud, he mused in his own head. He started to turn the pages looking for a blank page to write on, but one entry caught his eye and he stopped. His fingers clenched around the journal as he remembered the frustration and anger he had felt when he wrote that entry.

April 29, 2006

Sam had to be sedated today because he was so upset. Fuck! This shit isn't fair, and Sammy tries so hard, and everything is so difficult for him. He doesn't deserve any of this crap. He was trying so hard to do his speech therapy today, and the words just wouldn't come out of his mouth. I could see him getting upset with himself, and Jesus, I know it has to be driving him over the edge because he can't express himself. And, I'm no damn help. I can't make him better, I can't make it so he can tell you how he feels or what he wants. I can't help him, goddammit. And, today the poor kid couldn't even think how to say the word apple. But, it wasn't until April tried having him point out shapes on a poster board that things went to hell. She said Sam is still having' cognitive association' difficulties, as she says it. And, when she said point out the circle and he pointed to the square, god, I remember the moment she smiled and said, 'almost Sam, let's try another. Point to the triangle,' man I remember his face.

He looked so lost and then I saw the fear in is eyes because it was sinking in with him that he had really chosen the wrong shape. He tried again, and I was just hoping for dumb luck just so the kid didn't have to think he'd failed. But, when I saw his finger point to the rectangle, I literally felt my stomach tie into knots. Sam shoved the rolling bedside table away and began hitting the bed and pulling at the fitted bed sheet. It scared the shit out of me. I could see the fat tears falling from his eyes, and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around my little brother and tell him it'll be okay, but how can I when I don't know if it will be. But, he won't let anyone near him, and the next thing I know Dr. Myers is there and having Sam restrained as he fights against the attendants as much as he was able, and they're holding him down while she sedates him afraid he'll hurt himself. I was actually relieved when I saw Sammy's head lull back onto the bed as his eyes closed into a drug induced unconsciousness. Jesus, what kind of brother am I when I can't protect him from life and I'm actually relieved when he's sedated into a stupor?

Sonofabitch!

Dean drew in a shaky breath as his body released the familiar feeling of rage that entry brought up. Although, Sam was having some of the same issues even now, he was getting better. Now, it seemed he could point to the right shapes, but had difficulty with the words. He smiled as he thought of his little brother, Sam had only ever reached that level of aggression once, and Dean knew he'd never be able to cope with what Sammy has over the last few months. Sam amazed him every day. His brother still got mad, and who could blame him, but he was coping. Dean turned to a blank page and started to write.

May 2, 2006

Well, Sammy you turned twenty-four today! And, it turns out I'm the one that received the birthday gift. My baby brother said my name tonight. It was clear, and he didn't stumble over it. I can't even put into words everything I feel. Damn, it hit me so hard I broke down in front of the kid, and I'm pretty sure that it scared him, but he bounced back though after I told him I was okay. I didn't mean to do it, but it just happened, and you know the old saying, you can't un-ring a bell.

He was talkative tonight, well, talkative for him at least. I know he understands that his words don't come out like they should, but he's trying so hard, and I can't even begin to say how much I admire my little brother. Mel tried to get him walking today, but that didn't go so well, but next time. I plan not to miss the next attempt. He let me help him tonight and didn't push me away when he was mad with himself. Sam had a little eating snafu with his cupcake and it seems a major temper crisis was avoided after he had a damn muscle spasm and missed his mouth, but it ended with him saying 'thanks Dean.' And, I know he meant thanks for more than cleaning some icing off his cheek. That kid means the world to me, and I'll do whatever it takes to give him whatever recovery he can accomplish.

Dean yawned as he closed his journal. It had been a long day. He looked at the clock, and laughed it was barely 10:30 in the evening. He had to see the humor in this moment, well, for the last couple months really. Before Sam's head injury, he would have scoffed at going to bed any earlier than 1 or 2 AM, and that was after a few beers at a local bar, or maybe a quick lay with some girl, whose name he wouldn't remember much past rolling out of bed to get dressed and return to whatever motel he and Sammy were staying at. Damn, how things change, he thought to himself. He took went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and decided on another quick shower to just relax him, and then he walked back out into the room. He shut the TV off, and proceeded to pull the cushions off the couch and fold out a full size bed. He walked over to his large walk in closet and grabbed his pillow. He actually had some fresh sheets on the bed, and he knew Sammy would be so proud over that fact.

He laid back into the pillow for a moment with a sigh, and then rose up to turn the light off beside the bed. The room was bathed in shadow and moonlight that peeked around the edges of his thick curtains. Dean Winchester felt something tonight he hadn't felt in months, he felt joy. Sure he'd been happy even ecstatic at times over Sam's milestones, but not until tonight and hearing his little brother say his name, not until that moment, he hadn't known joy on its purest level. Tonight, he would finally sleep soundly.

To Be Continued

Well, it wasn't as long as the last chapter, but they can't all be chunky. Well, you'll have to let me know what you thought of this one. Not a lot of action, but not every chapter can be action packed. Now, the next update most likely won't come until late next week sometime, I hope. But, I thought a quick update might be a nice treat since you had to wait a while for the last chapter. Please, take a moment to leave a review and tell me what you think! I appreciate all of your comments. Thanks!