Sam woke up in bed with a splitting headache, his brother's arms around him, quiet nervous whispers that he couldn't make out. Dean was distracted with whoever he was talking to and hadn't noticed Sam's entry into consciousness. He wanted to keep it that way until he could remember what'd happened. It proved difficult. His head was killing him. He could barely focus. He squeezed his eyes and forced himself to think back. He recalled he'd had a seizure, a bad one. It explained the cut on the side of his tongue. He remembered he'd been feeling cloudy but still fine. They'd been on their way to the bathroom so Sam could take another bath. He'd been okay; strong enough to carry his own weight. Dean was only accompanying him because he'd been worried Sam might have another seizure in the tub.

Then nothing. He couldn't recall anything past the hallway. Had he had another seizure? It seemed highly unlikely he'd have two big ones so close together.

The only reason he could think of for a total blackout like he was experiencing was if he'd suffered head trauma. But as much as Sam was against how Dean could rival any helicopter these days, Sam had to credit his brother: it was absurd to think he could've fallen and sustained any kind of head injury with his brother right there behind him.

Sam was taking awhile thinking this through, the muffled whispers of conversation above him between Dean and whoever else continued. He was only hearing out of one ear, his head pressed against Dean's shoulder. He was grateful Dean wasn't clutching him or anything. The headache pounding against his skull was making him feel nauseous and he'd definitely throw up were his brother hugging his waist or stomach.

Dean had begun to gesture as he spoke, hands casually moving around and then going back to rest them along Sam's side. Sam did his best not to move or squirm while he was so closely tucked against his brother so he could eavesdrop.

"-don't need anything else?" Sam recognized Kevin's soft, worried tone. It didn't do much to allay any anxieties of his own though.

"Yeah just make sure they stay away until whatever this is passes, alright?" Dean wrapped his whole arm around Sam's back and shoulders. Sam fought the urge to hug his brother back.

Dean sounded better than Kevin - more in control; relaxed. Then again Dean was a better actor than Kevin.

"Got it."

Their conversation stopped but Sam didn't hear Kevin moving away. Sam considered Dean's words. Who were "they" and why did they need to stay away until he was better?

Perhaps they were a threat-? But if they were enemies or just generally untrustworthy, it wouldn't explain why Dean seemed so calm.

Dean angled to face Kevin. It left Sam pressed up against Dean's chest more than his shoulder - a good break for him because he wanted to hear his brother's heart. Dean had been lying with confidence and poise since he was six years old but he couldn't cheat his own heartbeat.

"Can I ask you something?" Kevin asked in a small voice. Dean's heart paced easily as he felt Dean nod. "They're angels, Dean. What does... What does it mean about these trials that Sam can't be near them?"

"What?" Sam rasped harshly. The charade was up; he needed answers now and he wasn't going to get them any faster with this ruse.

He reconsidered when within a split-second he found himself getting manhandled off his brother to lie down all the way, Dean's hovering urgent imperatives to report on his health blaring like their own sirens into his still fragile brain.

Sam blinked, clearing his vision as Dean spoke. "Why did you kick Cas out?" Sam whispered roughly, his throat dry, tongue sore.

Dean ignored him. "Sam, look at me and track my fingers." Dean put his finger up directly in front of him.

"Who's with Cas?" Sam gritted out impatiently, reluctantly following Dean's finger.

"What happened before you passed out - do you remember?" Dean asked authoritatively.

"Where are they now Dean? Do they know something? Did they-" Sam gasped and realized he was practically hyperventilating.

"Sam, Sammy relax-" Dean pleaded, palming the side of Sam's head.

"Dean, tell me!" Sam wheezed, eyes watering with frustration.

Dean kept his hand on Sam's head and brushed through it a couple times during this silent battle of wills. Dean looked haggard and scared but Sam was desperate to know, his watery eyes glinting with a nearly fanatical need to discover the third trial if they'd found it.

Dean swallowed and gave an imperceptible nod. Sam clenched his jaw while he let his body relax, relief flowing through him that Dean was going to tell. "Okay Sam," Dean whispered sadly, "Kevin, give us a few," Dean added, still looking into Sam's eyes. In Sam's peripheral vision he saw Kevin back away from the bed.

"Just relax first, okay?" Dean leaned back from his hovering and pulled the blankets up further around him. Sam gritted his teeth but let it go as he watched Kevin quietly leave. "Catch your breath, man," Dean added quietly. Kevin shut the door, giving them an added unexpected, foreboding element of privacy. Sam realized Kevin must know.

Sam was the only one out of the loop here now. He watched his brother fuss and bit his lip.

"S'it bad? The third trial?" Sam asked, his voice cracking on the last word. Dean sighed and washed a hand down his face. When he looked back at his brother his eyes had taken on a glassy film of tears. Sam would never get used to that look; his own emotions always tripping at the sight of his brother failing to keep his facade.

"Dean?" Sam trembled.

"Okay," Dean breathed, "the third trial's a ritual. Cas found Metatron. They're preparing it now."

"What is it?"

Dean hesitated, worry and exhaustion etched on his face. Sam could tell Dean hadn't been facing up to the truth of whatever the third trial was.

"Dean!"

Dean twitched like Sam had slapped him. He took a breath and softened.

"It's gonna be rough, Sammy," Dean whispered. "But they're doing all the work. All we need to do is wait a little longer until they come get us."

"How much longer?" Sam asked, his voice thick and gravelly.

Dean pressed his lips together and broke his gaze from his little brother to look down. Sam's heart skipped with something like pure dread when a tear fell from Dean's eye onto the bedspread.

"Not much longer, Sammy," Dean sniffed.

Sam let it sink in, his heart choppy and his own distress ratcheting up from the way Dean was acting. "Dean," Sam asked shakily, barely able to hold off a sob, "am I gonna die?"

Dean tried to smile but there was nothing but despairing grief in it.

"You might," Dean admitted wetly, "They said… they said odds were," Dean trailed off. He rubbed his eyes clear, scratched his nose. "But you know what we said, Sam," Dean said rather loudly, overcompensating. He kept going, offering promises he couldn't keep, silver linings that weren't really there.

Sam winced, staring at his brother, slowly shaking his head with doubt and fear. Hope drained along with any color left in his face, rendering his complexion stark and ghostly word after every word his big brother added to his bullshit pep talk. "Yeah Sam, no listen to me. We won't let anything happen to you, you understand? You're gonna survive this, get it?" Dean spoke solidly but his voice was still scratchy; still on the verge of tears and as Sam's eyes drilled into Dean's he could see the boundless terror of losing Sam just beneath the surface.

As much as Sam had wanted the strength to face death with honorable acceptance, too much had happened to leave Dean now. Sam realized he didn't want to go. The reality of it was hitting him full force now. He really didn't want to die.

With the revelation, Sam's eyes welled up, his jaw clenched and he bit his lip to hold off from making an emotional fool of himself in the face of near-certain death.

"Sam. Don't. Sam, I promise you. I promise, Sammy-"

Sam looked up at Dean, eyes bright with tears about to break.

Dean was trying. He was trying so damn hard and Sam appreciated it but honestly it only made things worse. Sam's eyes burned, his thoughts spun on a loop, overwhelming and swallowing him in with the dual certainties that he was going to die for this and spending this time with Dean and looking into his eyes right now...

Sam didn't want to die for this. He couldn't die for this. Dean needed him.

Sam had to break his brother's gaze, his mind a flurry of deepening hopelessness as his eyes wandered just as frantically both everywhere and nowhere for an answer - for salvation - even though he knew there was nothing.

Sam gave a small hiccup of a sob, muffled it as best he could with his trembling, spindly hand as he looked down and stared at the bedspread, ashamed.

Suddenly Dean was on him, practically picking him up under his arms and pulling him in against his chest. Sam was limp but he needn't have bothered to help Dean anyway; his brother did all the work angling and folding him into his lap, holding Sam's curled, tilted form tight in his arms, one hand landing on his head and carding through his hair gently.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean murmured into his ear. Sam tried to hold his breath against crying any further and slowly wrapped his arms around Dean. "It's gonna be okay, all right?" Dean's voice cracked.

At the sound of his brother's small break, Sam couldn't hold back. He let go in his brother's arms.

Dean tightened his hold as Sam clutched him. He dipped his own head against Sam's neck as his little brother cried into his shoulder. He rocked them for awhile, shushing Sam with an easy reassuring rhythm - it wasn't a gesture to actually silence Sam. It was just a sound of comfort; the sound Dean always used to calm his brother.

Sam quieted eventually but he kept his posture still, making no move to get out from under his brother's warmth and protection. Dean kissed the side of his head right before he whispered a question. "Sammy I thought you were okay with this," Dean murmured, his voice crackly with his own silent tears.

Dean understood his brother more than anyone but the question had its merits, Dean thought. Either Sam would nod and get himself together or he wouldn't and it'd still be okay; Dean had him. They were still safe; still alive and breathing and together. They could still talk this out. They could still handle this.

"It's different now," Sam said weakly. "I want to stay," Sam whimpered and fell into a few more soft cries as he pulled himself up to reach more of his brother aqa, tightening his hold into a full-fledged shivering, terrified hug.

Dean gave a shuddering sigh and lined his arm up with Sam's spine, his hand resting along the back of Sam's neck. They stayed like that until Dean had an answer.

"You will, Sammy. Always, okay?" Dean promised, knowing it was vague; knowing it had a double-meaning that managed to both comfort and depress. Dean let his words sink in before he ruled out the depressing one: "We're going out together when we're old... and gross," Dean added comically and felt Sam jerk and huff a weepy laugh, "because you're going to survive this trial, close the gates of hell, and then you know what we're gonna do Sammy?"

Sam sniffed and shifted his head. "No, what?" Sam scratched out and Dean rubbed his back.

"We get to retire," Dean laughed roughly and Sam joined in, his throat obviously more destroyed than Dean's, and nodded against his brother's shoulder.

"Okay," Sam whispered dejectedly, knowing he had to play along if he couldn't face the truth and he didn't think he could right now.

Not now that he knew. Not now after all they'd gone through. When they'd fought over his death and he'd almost died, Sam had been running on the steadfast conviction that Dean would be fine. He'd move on. It would help if Dean knew Sam was in heaven too.

Things had changed though. Sam had seen Dean despairing and ruined. That along with a few other key elements and Sam had become just as desperate not to leave his brother as Dean was.

He felt Dean shift around and reach for something on the bedside table.

"Here - you sound like shit," Dean muttered. Sam lifted his head and squinted at the water bottle Dean held. He sniffed and blinked as he reached for it to gulp a few mouthfuls, still shamelessly half-hugging his brother. Dean allowed it, bracing him carefully.

When Sam gave the water bottle back he slumped against Dean, exhausted. Dean set the bottle aside before wrapping arms around Sam again. It was a light, almost casual hold this time.

"You need to fill me in," Sam said dully, staring, unseeing, down his brother's back and his own thin bony hands spread open along his shoulder blades.

"I know," Dean nodded, brushing his head against Sam's.

"All of it, Dean."

"I know, Sammy," Dean hugged his brother and rubbed his back. "I will."

A/N: Originally published 7/20/2014, revised 8/18/2019! Thank you so much for reading & please review if you can spare the time! ~ Alex