Siblings & Sorrow & Solace Found
K Hanna Korossy

Sam came around slowly to a familiar cottony feeling. Wadding in his head, fluff in his mouth, stiff institutional sheets draped over a body that didn't feel quite like his.

Hospital.

He cracked open his eyes, gummy and heavy. The light wasn't as bright as he'd been braced for, but he still had to take a moment to adjust. His lips were cracked, and an awakening twitch of his body revealed the pull of an IV needle. Definitely a hospital.

He didn't even try to retrieve the memory of why. He had a more important consideration first.

There was no one immediately in sight. The alcove to the door was on the right, so Sam panned his gaze left, moving sluggishly but mostly pain-free. At least there was that.

And Dean, backed against the wall by Sam's bed, arms crossed, head down.

"'ey," Sam garbled, coughing.

Dean's head came up and his arms came down. He pushed away from the wall and took a step closer. There was relief in his face, but also a distance, a pain unrelieved by Sam waking.

That lodged far more dread in Sam's gut than the hospital did.

"Hey," Dean finally said, voice all raspy like it got when he was worn out, emotionally and physically. "How're you feeling?" He didn't wait for an answer, pouring Sam a cup of surprisingly cool water with a straw. Even as Sam drank, he thought about Dean refreshing it every hour, waiting for Sam to return.

Sam licked his lips again, and started to piece together the faint nausea, the dry-to-the-bone feeling, the faint shiveriness and the cavernous fatigue and headache. Blood loss. From… "Tasha?"

"The fake one, yeah. I didn't realize she got you so hard. You, uh, wouldn't wake up in the car. Internal bleeding."

Dean said it like an accusation, which Sam supposed it was. They had enough experience with injuries to recognize the signs that something was seriously wrong. But Sam had been distracted, by… "Max," he sighed, shutting his eyes and slumping back into the pillow. The young hunter who'd lost his mom and his sister, all his family, in one case. He said he'd be okay, that he'd take care of things, but Sam knew he'd never be okay again. And Dean…

He reopened his eyes, watching Dean replace the cup on the table, fiddle with the height of the moveable tray. Exhausted, drawn, silent. It was awful, Sam knew, finding your brother pale and unresponsive, unconscious when you thought he was just sleeping. But there was more here.

"Dean," Sam said quietly.

Dean's movements paused. Then he shook his head, eyes still downcast. "I can't reach Mom. She left me a message that we have a problem, something about the Brits, and I haven't been able to reach her since. Then you pulled your Sleeping Beauty act, and Max—" The muscle in Dean's jaw jumped.

Mom. Sam winced. If she was in trouble, it had to be bad. And instead of riding to the rescue, Dean had been stuck at the hospital, waiting to see if his brother would wake up. And Max?

Sam's gut roiled. He had an idea about Max.

"You think he made a double of his sister?"

Dean canted his head, eyeing Sam sideways. "Oh, I know he did. It's what I would've done in his shoes."

Ten years ago, anyway. When Sam had died the first time, and Dean had made his first deal. Sam flinched again. "Yeah," he finally mumbled. He'd figured as much, too, even if he hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.

They stewed in that misery a moment, Sam trapped in a bed, Dean in his head.

Sam took a wet breath. "We do what we need to do, right?" Deals and self-sacrifice had given way over years to more mature loss, to letting Dean become a bomb, letting Mom live her life, letting Sam deal with a town full of Darkness-infected people. But it had taken so much to get there. And it still hurt. No, ravaged.

Dean looked up at him, his eyes wet. Yes, ravaged was right.

Sam shelved the worry for Mom. She was tough; she'd hang in there. And Max…they'd leave him and his sham sister alone now, let him live the best life he could, Sam wouldn't judge. He had his own sibling to worry about restoring.

"Grab my clothes." Sam yanked out the IV and peeled back the blankets.

Dean's eyebrows rose. "We leaving?"

"You wanna stay?" Sam countered, satisfied when that set Dean moving. Sam eased himself up, feeling now the pull of stitches in his side. Swallowing repeatedly at the change of elevation. "And grab a basin."

"Gross," Dean muttered halfheartedly behind him.

Two bouts of vomiting later, a sweat-drenching change of clothes—including Dean buttoning his buttons and tying his shoes like Sam was two—and more sips of cold water, and Sam let his brother lead the way out of there. His arm was around Dean's shoulders, he was stumbling more than walking, and Dean was the only one making sure the coast was clear because Sam's eyes were mostly shut. But they made it to the car.

"You all right?" Dean picked that moment to ask skeptically. He was watching Sam with a frown from the driver's seat, hand on the key.

Sam met his gaze head-on, even if made him queasy to do it. "I will be," he said firmly. "You?"

There was a long pause, Dean grappling with the question. His worry about Mom. His guilt over Max. Castiel still out there with Rosemary and her baby.

Sam gave him a grin that he knew was wobbly and probably looked three-days dead.

But damned if Dean didn't return it, just as cracked and shaky. But both of them still there, sitting next to their living brother, even after all the loss and wounds and weight.

"Yeah."

And they rode off to the rescue once again.

The End

My apologies, I didn't think I received any titles this week (see a/n on last story), but some of your responses today sent me searching. Turns out there's a whole inbox on this site I didn't know about! Goes back, I don't even know how far. The site used to send on PMs like they do reviews, and I never noticed they stopped doing that and started stockpiling them. So sorry; I've got the list of titles now and will choose one by next week. Thanks for playing! -KHK