I really had forgotten quite how nerve-wracking posting can be, but I'm blown away by how many people read/followed/favourited Chapter 1! I must admit, I don't remember having this many readers before, so I'm going to assume it's down to folk seeking a more uplifting alternative for the boys rather than anything I'm doing!
I have a vague idea where I'm going with this, and it won't be anything especially radical or exciting, I'll say that now. I'm merely trying to blend hope (someone once told me that was something they were always left with after reading my stories, a sense of hope) with the boys as I 'know' them and a dose of realism. Well, as much realism as we get in the universe the Winchesters inhabit.
Let's 'carry on' then…
Sam froze, aware he likely had an idiotic look on his face, wide-eyed and slack jawed. Unlike certain recent events, this particular moment was being experienced in high definition; he could feel the slick metal surface of the door handle he still held, hear the faint footsteps of someone making their way down a nearby corridor, smell the mix of chemicals which was unique to hospitals and had begun to cling to his clothes and skin, combining with the anti-perspirant he was periodically spraying himself with.
But the greatest level of detail was reserved for the gaze staring at him with a look that seamlessly blended amusement and affection, and was as familiar to him as his own face.
"You're awake."
He hadn't consciously said the words out loud but it seemed his mouth had decided the stunned silence had gone on long enough and stepped in without his input.
The percentage of amusement to affection in Dean's gaze increased at the rather obvious statement but something of Sam's current mind-set was obviously showing on his face because any teasing was reigned in and instead he was graced with a tired but genuine smile and a slight nod.
"Looks that way, yeah."
Sam's brain was still on auto-pilot, releasing his grip on the door handle and steering him towards the chair that had become his back's nemesis. He dropped into it with more of a controlled fall than anything, his knees suddenly feeling shaky. His hand twitched in an aborted move towards Dean's, where it lay on top of the blanket, and he had to look down at the floor suddenly as his brother's face became blurry.
Blinking rapidly in the vain hope he could clear the tears without Dean seeing them, he heard a soft sigh.
"Sam, look at me."
Raising his gaze was an automatic response, even though it allowed a stray tear or two to run down his face before he could stop them. Dean pretended not to notice though, fixing Sam with a steady look.
"It's okay."
Sam surprised them both with a weird snorting sound that had a decidedly wet edge to it, having to clamp down on the urge to laugh lest it become hysterical.
"Seriously? That's what you're going with?"
"Sam-"
"Don't, Dean! You can't-do you have any idea—" Sam stopped, sucking in a shaky breath, and aware that he was this close to laying into someone who had only just woken up after coming within a hairs-breadth of dying.
Which, fair enough, was hardly a new experience for either them, but still. Taking a couple more, slightly less shaky, breaths he squared his shoulders and tried to find some calm. Dean meanwhile was watching him a little more warily, eyebrows slightly raised, but had the good sense to remain silent for now and let Sam drag himself back from the edge of a mental breakdown without trying to help.
Some things they'd learnt the hard way, over the years.
Feeling a touch more together Sam wiped a hand over his face to clear away any wetness and was finally able to look at Dean without wanting to cry, hug, or punch him.
Not necessarily in that order.
"I know what you're trying to do, and I appreciate it, but could we please start by not pretending anything about this whole thing has been anywhere close to okay, okay?"
Dean opened his mouth and Sam just knew it was to make a smart comment about using the same word twice, narrowing his gaze. The hesitation was barely noticeable unless you knew him as well as Sam did, but when Dean did speak there was no misguided attempt at humour.
"Fine, okay was probably the wrong choice of word. I was just, you know, trying to—" he stopped, either not sure what he'd actually been trying to do beyond the automatic attempt at making Sam feel better or because he'd realised what he was about to say might get him yelled at again.
Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean sighed, eventually giving a one-shouldered shrug that triggered a poorly-hidden wince
"Yeah. I got nothing."
The rush of affection Sam got from that simple statement was ridiculous, and he sternly told himself he was not going to cry over that of all things. In fact, it would be great if he could manage to get through the upcoming conversation without crying at all.
He'd done more than enough of that in a barn, certain that this time really was the goodbye he'd dreaded for most of his life.
Shying away from that entirely unhelpful thought, he shook his head.
"Lucky for you I'm used to you saying stupid things."
Dean feigned hurt. "Ouch, Sammy. You know, I'm pretty sure you're usually a lot nicer to me when I come back from the dead."
Sam stared. Long enough for Dean to look mildly guilty.
"Too soon?"
Sam didn't even dignify that one with a response, but he was pretty sure his face said it for him. Clearing his throat, Dean shifted in the bed, trying to sit up and grimacing when his body objected. Sam was already moving though, carefully gripping Dean under one arm and bracing him as he reached behind to lift the pillows before easing him back down, now in a more upright position. He hovered anxiously, hand edging toward the call button until Dean's pointed look had him sitting back down on the edge of the chair.
Leaning into the pillows, only slightly paler than before, Dean tilted his head towards the machinery and IV, brow furrowed.
"Alright then, how about you just explain to me how I ended up here when I was a thousand per cent sure I wasn't going to be waking up again."
The soft tone he'd used took the edge off the stark description but Sam still took a second to gather his thoughts, wishing he'd had a little more time to prepare himself to dive back into the memories of that day. Knowing that ripping the Band-Aid off was always best, however, he made a start.
"So, I'm guessing you don't need me to go over what happened up until you passed out?"
It was a rhetorical question really but Dean shook his head anyway, his gaze full of the anguish Sam knew was reflected in his as they both recalled the moment they'd thought they were saying goodbye forever. Pushing though that memory, Sam continued.
"After you, you know, I just stood there. My head was resting against you and it took me a couple of minutes to realise I could still feel you breathing. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely feel for your pulse but once I found it I guess some kind of instinct took over."
He had to pause, his brain flooded with images of what had come next. What had been fuzzy earlier was now sharper, brought into focus somehow by having Dean awake and talking again. He closed his eyes but opened them almost immediately, terrified that he'd find the room empty and his mind playing tricks on him.
Dean's expression was knowing and without saying a word he moved the hand that was closest to Sam, the one without the IV, so that it was resting on the edge of the bed. Taking that for the invitation it was, Sam laid his hand on top and was rewarded with a reassuringly strong squeeze.
It gave him the courage to get through the next part, knowing that once he'd recapped things for Dean he'd do his level best never to think of those moments again.
"Okay. So, like I said, I realised you were still hanging in there and I started trying to figure out how best to get you to help. I knew there was a chance I could do more damage getting you off that piece of metal, but I also knew I didn't have any time to waste."
That got him another squeeze of the hand and he knew Dean could understand the desperation, that he'd been there himself when their roles had been reversed. Still, even with his brother right in front of him, Sam could feel the panic building as he relieved the nightmare and had to take a few deep breaths before he could continue.
The next part was where things were, mercifully, still a blurred mess and his gaze wandered the room, not wanting to look at Dean's face and find it overlaid with a different image; pale, slack jawed, eyes closed.
"Hey, listen, we don't have to go over this right now. All that matters is I'm still here. Unless you made a deal. Please tell me you didn't drive off to some crossroads and summon a random demon."
Dean was only half-joking, Sam could tell, and it was enough to draw his gaze back before rolling his eyes.
"Yeah, no. Unlike some people I do actually learn from our mistakes." That got him a glare, which he ignored with years of practice. "No deals, no spells, nothing supernatural of any kind. Cross my heart."
Mollified, Dean gave him a quizzical look. "Okay, then how? Cause I know how it felt, and that was like it was pretty fatal."
Sam grimaced. "Trust me, it looked just as fatal from where I was standing. But I had to try, you know? If there was even the slightest chance—" He stopped, shaking his head. Patient as always, Dean didn't push, giving him the space to find the words to describe what he'd done.
Because it wasn't that he didn't remember the practicalities. The one thing which his mind helpfully recalled in crystal clear clarity was the feel of Dean's weight as he'd lifted him off the rebar. The awful sucking noise it had made when Dean's body had slid free of the metal, and the warmth of Dean's blood pouring over Sam's hands, turning them red in seconds like he'd dipped them in paint.
Deciding there were some things which were best left unsaid, Sam chose his next words carefully.
"I'm not gonna give you all the gory details, but I managed to get you off the rebar and out to the car. I grabbed one of the towels from the trunk and wedged it against the wound in your back, and leaned you up against me so I could drive and still keep pressure on it."
Sam didn't add that it allowed him to feel the faint rise and fall of Dean's chest as he breathed, reassuring him he was still clinging on even as the towel became sodden and blood started to soak through Sam's jacket.
From the look in Dean's eyes though, he didn't have to.
Knowing they were nearing the end – at least as far as this part of the story went – Sam hurried through the rest of it.
"We got here in about 30 minutes, I think, although it felt like longer. I don't really remember what I told them, something about an accident in an abandoned building. They were too worried about the state you were in to pay too much attention to the details. Before I knew it they were rushing you off to surgery and I was filling in forms, and trying to get the blood off my hands."
Dean gave him a sympathetic look, knowing all too well what that felt like.
"So they were able to fix everything? The surgeons?"
Sam nodded. "Believer it or not, you were incredibly lucky. They said a half inch either way and there would have been nothing anyone could do. But by some miracle the rebar actually missed all the important stuff, so the biggest problem was how much blood you'd lost. Your organs started shutting down, some sort of shock because of it. But they got you on a transfusion right away and after a couple more your pressure started going back up, and that was it."
Dean had a feeling there was a bit more to it than that. He hadn't asked how long he'd been there but the sheer amount of machinery screamed 'critical' and 'life threatening' and one look at Sam told him his brother had spent more than just a few hours sat in that hospital chair. He didn't push though, knowing sometimes it was better to let Sam process things in his head before teasing it out in the open.
Fortunately, it sounded as if he had plenty of time for the well worn big brother tactics, after all.
Focusing on the positives instead, he gave Sam a genuine smile.
"So. A miracle, huh? You think someone had a hand in it, or are we just talking metaphorically these days?"
Sam shrugged, giving Dean's hand a final squeeze before letting go and slumping back in the chair.
"Honestly? I don't really care. Either kind is good enough for me."
Dean looked thoughtful. "I guess. It'd be nice though, to know if we do have someone to thank for me still being alive and kicking." He paused, his expression turning more serious. "Other than you, of course."
Sam looked at him, startled. "What?"
Dean gave him a half smile, his look now one of fond pride. "Miracle or not, you're the one got me out of there and got me to the hospital and, if I know anything, sat here the whole time willing me to hold on."
Sam felt his face heat up and ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Well yeah, but come on – that's what we do, right?" he said, looking up again to meet Dean's gaze.
"Damn right that's we do. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate it, you know?"
Now it was Sam's turn to smile. "Yeah. I know."
Before the moment could stray into the feared chick-flick territory Dean yawned, wide enough his jaw cracked.
Sam chuckled, unable to stop himself yawning in sympathy.
"Okay. Why don't you get some sleep, huh? Pretty sure you still need it."
Dean frowned, looking for a moment like a toddler trying to avoid nap time.
"I'm fine."
At Sam's sceptical look he amended the statement. "Okay, I'm fine considering. Seriously, though, if anyone needs sleep it's you, Sammy. I mean, have you looked in a mirror lately?"
Sam shrugged, doing his best to look more alert than he felt.
"I'm good. I've been sleeping."
"Suuure you have. 8 hours a night, I bet."
Ignoring the sarcasm Sam stood up and gently lifted Dean forward so he could lay the pillows flat, easing him down again despite the muttered grumbling. He had a feeling it was a good thing he couldn't make out the words.
Once horizontal Dean's eyes seemed to close almost of their own volition, leaving him blinking sleepily at Sam like an owl. Sam smiled and sat back down, shifting until he was as comfortable as possible and lifting his legs to rest them on the bed, next to Dean's.
"Seriously. Get some sleep. It'll be morning soon enough and the doctors will be in here wanting to prod and poke you now you're awake."
Dean grimaced at the thought but before he could argue any further his eyes slid closed and stayed that way this time. Sam felt a stab of alarm, getting an eerie sense of déjà vu, and his gaze flew to the machines, his heartbeat only slowing again when he saw the numbers were reassuringly stable.
With one final look at his brother, he closed his own eyes and within seconds followed him into sleep.
Good grief. Did I mention this was supposed to be fairly short? I guess our visit with the Winchesters is going to be a little longer than initially planned. But at least they're now reunited and didn't have to wait for the after-life, am I right?...