Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

NOTE TO READERS: I wanted to say thank you for the reviews for all of the previous chapters. And, also I want to say thanks to those readers who have made a point to review every chapter! I thank you for your dedication. And, this chapter came together quicker than I thought it would, so you didn't have to wait until the end of the week for an update. However, I haven't started on chapter eleven, yet, but, soon. Thanks for your patience.

I still haven't decided how long this story will be ultimately, so I'll play it by ear and see how things go. Thanks for reading!

Read and Review.

Chapter Ten

If I Could

By Dawn Nyberg

"If I could, I'd protect you from the sadness in your eyes. Give you courage in a world of compromise … I would shield your innocence from time … I would help you make it through the hungry years, but I know I can never cry your tears … but, I would if I could … If I knew, I'd try to change the world I brought you to, now there isn't much more that I can do, but I would if I could … Yes, I would … if I could …" Lyric excerpt by Regina Belle, If I Could

Two Days Later, Following Sam's Birthday

"Okay Sam," Mel encouraged from his rolling stool in front of the young man. "Grasp the parallel bars and lean forward and stand," he said as he made sure he had locked down Sam's wheelchair from moving. Mel reached up and grabbed the harness belt around Sam's hips to steady him. Dean stood a few feet away on the wall watching and anticipating his little brother's first steps for the second time in his life. Sam's face was flushed as he struggled to hold his weight on his weak legs. Dean could see Sam's arms tremble under the strain. "That's it Sam," Mel urged. "Now take your right foot," and Mel tapped the leg he wanted the young man to move first. "Lift up and move forward. Keep it small." It looked a bit awkward, but without the current ability to take the fluid second step with the other leg that usually indicated walking Sam looked a little apprehensive to make any grand gestures. His right foot lifted ever so slightly, and mostly equated to a shuffle when he actually went for the actual movement.

"There that's good. You're doin' it. Now move your hands a little more forward and move your left leg as you do, so you can get some forward movement." Sam grunted quietly at the effort. His left leg didn't want to cooperate, and his left foot wouldn't scoot, so he tried lifting his leg a little more, and his ankle flopped weakly in the air, and he tried to make the step, but his left leg gave out, and he lurched forward. Dean stepped off the wall afraid his brother would hurt himself. Mel held firmly on Sam's harness, "I got ya buddy." He comforted. Sam's arms were trembling violently as he fought to stay standing. "Hey, hey," Mel said standing up, as he helped Sam back down into his wheelchair. "It's hard work, okay. You almost did it today."

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean replied with a beaming smile. "It'll happen, okay?"

Sam stared at the ground, and when Mel went to unlock the wheels Sam jerked his hand out to stop him. "No leave. Do again."

"Sam," Mel began. "You should take a breather. We'll try again tomorrow." Sam shook his head.

"No. Try again. Now." His brow was creased in tension and frustration.

"Sammy, listen to Mel. You could hurt yourself if you push to hard, too fast."

"No," Sam's voice was strong and the stubbornness behind the word undeniable. He grasped the poles and jerked himself up again into a standing position. His arms quivered, but remained steady.

"Okay, this man means business," Mel quipped as he remained standing to help Sam. He pushed his stool away to open up the area for them between the bars. He put his hands on the hip harness.

"No, do by self. No help."

"Sorry kiddo, but if you fall I gotta be there to keep it from happening."

"Let do myself. Please," Sam's eyes a mixture of raw emotion and determination.

"Fine, but I'm staying right here, and I won't let you fall, I promise."

Dean could feel his jaw muscle tense as he watched Sam's inner struggle with his rebelling body. Watching his brother struggle with the task of taking a full complete step made his chest ache. He felt cold and hollow at the inability to make this all go away for his little brother. Sam struggled with his right leg and made the movement. He grunted under the strain as beads of sweat formed on his forehead and rolled down the sides of his face. He fought with the left foot that didn't want to do anything, but drag, as if it were broken at the ankle and had no control. His arms shook as he struggled to slide them across the bars. His knuckles white from the tightness of his grip. "Not want work," his voice hitched in anger and fear.

"Take your time," Mel encouraged. "Remember I told you your brain might have a different effect with other sides of your body because of the head injury. You can do this Sam, just be slow and deliberate about it. Take control, pull up and push out just like you do against my hand when were on the mats." Sam's face scrunched in tight concentration. He looked up for a moment and met eyes with his big brother standing and watching with warm eyes.

"You got it Sammy," his voice encouraging. "Now show that bitch called walking who's her daddy." Sam's mouth quirked up at the edges and he smiled despite his shaking body. Sam locked eyes with Dean and pulled all the support and strength he could from those hazel eyes, and he lifted his left leg, and took a step. When his left foot connected with the ground he remained looking at his brother and picked up his right foot and took a step. "Sammy! You're doing it!"

"I'll be damned," Mel spoke in astonishment. "Well…don't stop now." Sam kept looking at his brother, never breaking his gaze. Mel moved backward in time with Sam's forward steps. Sam struggled with determination, and with effort he picked up and put down each foot, and slid his hands along the pole. And before he knew it he was at the end of the pole with room enough for one more complete step. Mel felt the moment, and stepped aside and without word Dean stepped forward, and Sam took that final complete step, and fell into his brother's waiting arms. Dean held Sam firmly against him as they remained standing.

"Sammy," Dean choked as he held him, "you did it little brother, you did it." He felt Sam's trembling body and despite the physical exhaustion of his body he still wrapped his arms around his big brother and hugged him. Sam dropped his head and rested a cheek against his brother's shoulder. Mel went to get the wheelchair as Sam clung to his brother. Dean felt the cloth of his t-shirt growing wet, and reached up with one hand and cupped Sam's head comfortingly trying to quell his brother's tears, as he strengthened his grip around Sam's body with his other free hand. He fought the hot tears stinging his own eyes.

"Dean, I walk on own."

"Yes, you did kiddo. I'm proud of you. I knew you could do it."

Moments later Dean and Mel both aided Sam in sitting back in his wheelchair. "Well, little man," Mel quipped. "I think after that little marathon of steps you just did we better get you some hydrotherapy before your muscles remind you who the boss is."

Sam nodded, and smiled a genuine smile that reached his eyes for the first time since he collapsed six months ago. Dean felt as though all the air in the room was vacuumed away when he saw that smile. Sure he'd managed to get a smile or two out of Sam, and although they had been real they never truly reached his eyes, but today he knew Sam felt he had accomplished something, and he had. Dean silently rebuked the doctors at the hospital in his head. He never wanted Sammy to know that they had given him no hope at all, and he never wanted his little brother to know that their father had accepted he was hopeless. He'd protect him from as much as he could.

Three Hours Later

Sam slept peacefully in his bed while Dean sat in a chair near the bay window in his brother's room reading a magazine. Sam had been exhausted after his PT with Mel and the hydrotherapy had relaxed him, so when he was helped back into his bed he drifted off within ten minutes. Dean glanced over at his brother as he heard the sheets stir as his little brother moved and quickly settled again with a sigh remaining asleep. Dean smiled.

Mel appeared in the door and caught Dean's attention and motioned him to outside in the corridor. "He's still wiped out, huh?" Mel questioned.

"Yeah, he's been out for three hours now."

"Well, he deserves a nap after what he pulled off today." He glanced at his watch. "I saw that he's scheduled for speech therapy today with April at 3:00, so he's going to have a full day."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "It works out though," Dean began. "I'm meeting with Dr. Myers today since she had to be out of the center on Friday. I told she didn't have to come here on a Saturday, but she insisted. She's been great to Sam and me."

"Well, I have two more PT patients to see," Mel started. "I just wanted to check in on him, and see how he was doing after his marathon today."

"What he did today Mel," Dean asked. "It'll get better, right? He's not going to struggle like that forever."

"No, he'll walk Dean. The left leg has some obvious strength and coordination issues, but I'll add some more PT exercises to help his left catch up with his right. That kid will do an Irish jig out of this place when he leaves." Mel smiled broadly.

"Thanks Mel." The older man just simply raised a hand to stop Dean.

"He's a great kid, Dean. I like to say I go the extra mile for all of my patients, but Sam for some reason, you can't help, but get attached to him." Dean gave a knowing smile.

"It's the eyes," he offered.

"Huh?" Mel raised an eyebrow.

"He gives you those puppy eyes of his, and you're wrapped around his little finger. It's like Kryptonite to me, and I haven't met a person yet that can resist," Dean chuckled.

"You have a point," Mel conceded. "Hey, you better wake him up soon," Mel suggested. "Lunch will be coming around soon unless you want to take him to the dining room."

"Nah, he chose a lunch delivery today. He didn't want to eat in the dining room."

Mel nodded and shortly he and Dean said their goodbyes and Dean walked quietly over to Sam's bedside. He looked at his watch and was surprised to see that he and Mel had talked for a half hour. "Sammy?" Dean's voice was quiet. "Hey, Sleepy head, time to rise and shine." Sam's response was to grunt quietly and scrunch his face. Dean reached down and tousled his brother's hair. "Come on Sammy, open those eyes."

"No want. Tired." Sam's sleep inflected voice responded as he opened his eyes to slits to evaluate his older brother. Dean grinned. He would have sworn that Sam looked like he did when he was six.

"Come on sleeping beauty," he urged. "Lunch will be here soon, and you still have to work with April today in another couple hours." Sam opened his eyes fully and frowned.

"No talk. Hate it." Dean gave his brother a sympathetic look.

"Look kiddo, I know it's hard, but it's getting better every therapy session."

"No understand. Words not right. I know wrong." And, there it was, solid confirmation that Sam did truly know he was different now.

"Sammy, I can't begin to get what you're going through, but I know how hard this is on you," he offered. "I see it when you do your therapy. And, the words won't always be wrong. Things will get better. Just stick with it okay?"

"Hate."

"I thought you liked April," Dean looked at Sam with curious eyes.

"I do. I not like talk."

"Look Sammy, I know this isn't your idea of fun, but you gotta do this speech therapy. I know you don't like the other stuff either, but it's helping you. Please, Sam, I know you're trying so hard, I see it, and I know. But, you got to keep with it." He could see the stubborn set his younger brother's jaw. "Don't you want to get better? Are you happy with the way things are right now? Huh?" He kept his voice soft, but his tone was insistent. Sam shook his head slightly. "Huh? What was that?" Dean countered. "I didn't hear you."

"No," Sam began. "I want … to be … better," he answered slowly as he struggled to find all the right words. "I feel … dumb." He dropped his eyes from Dean's and stared at his hands. Dean wanted so badly to fix everything, but there was no quick fix for this, and ultimately he knew that Sam may plateau in improvements at some point, but he didn't want to cross that bridge yet, he'd wait.

"Sammy," his voice soft as he reached out and out his hand on top of his brother's folded ones. "Look at me," he encouraged. Sam slowly looked up and met eyes with his big brother. Dean saw the glistening warm eyes of his little brother. "Hey, I want you to hear me little brother. You're not dumb. And, I don't want you to think that, and no one here thinks you are either. You hear me?"

Sam offered a slight smile and nodded. "Yes," came out so quietly that anyone else may have not heard it, but Dean did, and he gave Sam a knowing nod. "I … p… promise … to try." Sam awarded his brother with his famous lopsided grin.

"I know you will Sammy, I know."

Later that Afternoon

Dean sat across from Dr. Myers in her office while Sam was doing his speech therapy with April. "I read over Mel's notes about today's PT session Dean, and I'm thrilled with Sam's progress. He has made such huge steps in his recovery. We've discussed his speech and other therapies. And, all of the reports from his other therapist are all positive. I know he has some frustration issues over his situation, but all in all he is handling it quite well. But, you should know that you've been a big help in his recovery. If Sam didn't have you, I doubt he would have made the improvements that he has."

"Thanks, but he's doing all the work. I'm just around."

"Don't sell yourself short Dean. You're a big support to your brother, and it is very important for a rehab patient to have family support." Dean nodded.

"Dr. Myers?"

"Yes."

"Sam's still making progress, but when do we know if he's done all the improving he's going to do?"

"Well, once he's released from here. I'd like to keep him on an out patient program for a year, and then we should know where we stand. But, also if a particular deficit doesn't continue to improve while here then it may be feasible to accept he may have reached a plateau with it, but right now it's too early to predict. I don't want to pigeon hole Sam."

"Yeah, me either." Dean responded quickly. "Um, what about the future?" He started hesitantly. "I mean, I know it's probably too early to say, but what about his future? I mean work or school … will he be able to?"

"I have every hope that Sam will reclaim his life to the best of his abilities Dean. But, it is a hope right now, and until he has finished his rehab here, and he's been discharged to our out patient program for extended rehab I can't say what he'll reclaim."

"I know. Sorry, I mentioned it."

"No, I understand why you want to know, I do. He's on track Dean." She assured. "Based on the diagnosis he received from the hospital he's all ready blown their theories of his recovery potential out of the water. I believe in Sam and his determination to recover." Dr. Myers was about to say something when her beeper went off. "Sorry, let me just take a look at this…"

"Sure." Dean replied. He watched her casually pull her beeper off her jacket pocket and look at it reading the short text message. He watched her face crease with concern.

"It's a 911 page," she said standing. "It's Sam." Dean's eyes widened in sheer panic at the doctor's words, and he followed Dr. Myers urgent steps out the door toward the rehab wing that Sam's room was located.

To Be Continued

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