It seems like every single chapter I'm apologizing for a longer wait...oops! Midweek update because I didn't want you to wait any longer. I planned to get this up last week, but it ended up just not being a good week emotionally or mentally, and one of my midterms changed dates to coincide with a few other things, so this got pushed back unfortunately. However, midterms are done and it's back to the normal level of work! I promise you guys, no matter how long it takes, this story WILL be finished. We're definitely in the final 10% or so of it now, I can't imagine it going more than a few more chapters, but we'll see. So thank you guys, so much honestly, for continuing to stick with this story. Just a reminder, any little comment truly helps, I read them all back when last week got tough, and they made me smile :)

Alright, since it's been almost a month, I still don't own Supernatural, but now that season 14 has started airing, any thoughts? Added note: if you haven't checked out Peaky Blinders, just look up some pictures, Jensen would fit right in, you're welcome.

"Dean, can you hear me?"

A bright light passed in front of his eyes, and Dean reflexively tried to shut them again. It almost immediately send a jolt through his head, which he was pretty surprised hadn't been liquified by then.

"Heart rate's up and normal, oxygen levels increasing."

"Dean, you with us?"

Again, with the light, would they just freaking stop already, yes he was with them, whoever they were. And he was guessing he was finally outside his own head, hearing other people milling around and various beeps and mechanic noises around him. He would've sat up, or done something more visible to show that he was indeed conscious, but his body wasn't liking the mental thrashing it had gotten. In some twisted way, he wondered if it was what robots felt like when they got rebooted. Everything was horribly fuzzy, which was probably all the drugs they had him doped up on, which he absolutely hated.

"Dean?"

But he wasn't so doped up and out of his head to not recognize his little brother's voice from somewhere other than right next to his bedside. If Sam wasn't right there, it meant something had probably happened, and something not good. Hell, if that wasn't the push he needed.

It wasn't much, but a slight voluntary crack open of his eyelids and a low groan was enough to make the nurse above him sigh in relief.

"Voluntary response," she noted, probably to some other medical person in the room. "Any chance you could keep those eyes open, Dean?"

Sure, no problem, other than the fact that they weighed a metric ton. He couldn't see much through the cracked lids, just fuzzy shapes amongst a white background, a figure next to him, and a few blobs of color standing in front of a darker spot, a doorway. Sam and Cas, he'd bet money on it.

So yeah, Dean freaking Winchester opened his eyes because he had no idea what the hell was going on, Sam and Cas were watching, and he really didn't want to get blinded with that stupid penlight again. It took a few seconds for the image to actually sharpen up, and two more blinks later, he was more aware of what was going on.

Sam and Cas were indeed standing in the doorway, the angel supporting his brother who looked to be breathing much too heavily, even though Dean was a fair distance away.

He opened his mouth ever so slightly to try and greet them, but the distinct 'fuzzy' feeling persisted, and he closed it again. Though, just that small movement in itself seemed to have made his brother fairly happy, as he broke into a smile before he quickly started coughing.

A nurse was on him before Dean had the chance to say, attempt to say, anything else. She said a few words, which Dean couldn't hear, and Sam apparently tried to refute, until Cas stepped in. More words were exchanged that Dean couldn't hear over the beeping, and Sam cast him another glance before he was reluctantly led from the room by one of the nurses.

Dean groaned again, wanting to know what was going on. Another nurse, a blonde, checking the computer screens or whatever they were by the bed, moved a step closer.

"Your brother's being treated for smoke inhalation, but he'll be fine, he just needs to sit back down," she filled in rather quickly, seemingly being able to read Dean's mind, which he was extremely grateful for. "Now, can you squeeze for me?" she asked, placing her index finger where Dean would be able to grasp it.

Would be able to be, that was the important part of that sentence. His fingers lightly brushed against hers, but couldn't quite get the whole squeezing thing down. Not yet, everything was still too fuzzy. He loved pain medication, until he hated it. Head injuries he just plain hated.

"Motor control is decreased, but looks to be improving, see if Denise is in yet, we'll get him in for another CT to make sure nothing bad triggered this," she directed to a woman standing off to the side with a clipboard.

"We'll get you back up on your feet in no time, Dean," she added with a smile. Something about it, and what had transpired with Billie, made Dean wonder if maybe, just maybe, it was possible.

After a few more little exercises, they deemed that Dean was alert enough, and apparently very strangely so, that he could go down for the scan. While he didn't really appreciate being stuck inside half a donut while moving parts and lasers (he'd have to ask Sam the mechanics behind how one of them actually worked later) and whatever took pictures of his brain. It didn't take long, which he was grateful for, and by the time they took him out of the room, he was feeling more like himself.

He was bone-weary, sure, but he felt more…in control, less fuzzy. If that was the medication being tapered off or his brain healing itself, he really didn't have an idea. But he passed the second finger squeeze test with flying colors and while the nurse, Monica, he learned, was confused by his one-eighty turnaround, she was happy nonetheless.

Dean was placed back into the same room, Cas having been semi-awkwardly watching the television on the wall while standing up, waiting for them to return. Monica and the other nurse promised to check back in when the results finalized, and left Cas and Dean in the room.

"Bit repetitive, ain't it?" Dean asked hoarsely after a minute or so had passed, and Cas brought him a cup of water before he sat down next to the bed.

"Nevertheless, it is again good to have you back," the angel replied. It was obvious just how true that was, the slight worried smile on Cas' face being evidence of that fact. But there was something else there too.

"But…" he prompted, trying to see how much he could get with the shortest phrases possible.

Cas wrung his hands in a very human gesture, and glanced at the corner of the room for a moment, as if pondering what he was about to say. "The nurses, they are puzzled, as am I. This much improvement, in such a short time span, doesn't make medical sense. And when I tried to get a sense of what was wrong earlier, something felt…different. Did something happen?"

So much for going with short phrases. Dean shifted so he could sit up a little more, cup balanced in his hand. "It was Billie."

Cas' eyes widened at that, and fear washed over his features. "The reaper? Is that why-" he corrected himself quickly, "why did you see her, what did she want?"

"To help out, seems like. Said we were no good with me benched, universe needs us apparently," Dean said with a slight smirk. "She fixed it, Cas. Not sure how, but it feels different, clearer." He'd be able to explain in greater detail when his body recovered from the 'rebooting', yeah, that's what he'd be calling it.

Cas shifted in his seat and raised a hand. "May I?" Realizing his intentions, Dean nodded minutely, and allowed the angel to touch his forehead. There was a slight added presence, but no pain, and when Cas withdrew his hand, his features were still morphed in confusion.

"Well?"

"The block, for lack of a better word, the damaged tissue, seems to have repaired itself, and is continuing to do so."

"It's healing? Whatever she did, it's working?" he clarified, even though Cas has just said so. Billie's argument had been convincing enough, but still, there had been some small part of him wondering if it would ever actually work.

Cas nodded tightly. "Were there any conditions for what she said would happen?" he actually looked more worried as he asked the question. It figured, too, they didn't exactly have the best luck with supernatural beings just wanting to be helpful for the hell of it.

"I get fixed and get back to work, you and Sam too. Memories come back eventually as things heal up," Dean answered, expecting the tension to ease out of his shoulders, but it didn't.

"And that's all? She didn't mention anything about souls or the empty?"

"No…reaper, I get it, but nothing about that stuff," he replied quizzically. And the empty? Again, something he'd have to wait to come back, at least it would, eventually. But the way Cas phrased it…"Why you askin'?"

Cas looked up from his interlocked hands and sighed. "You were in a coma and seized. I assume it happened as a result of whatever Billie did. But afterwards…your heart stopped. They were able to bring you back, obviously, and when they did you were conscious and rapidly improving. I was concerned something else had transpired."

So he'd died. Again, not that it was exactly a new experience, but it was more disconcerting than anything else. He wouldn't be surprised if he'd done so a few more times over the years, which he was probably close to remembering.

"Just another day of the week," he smirked lightly, and though Cas didn't seem to appreciate the joke, some of the weight on the angel's shoulders seemed to ease up. "I'm good, Cas. Not goin' anywhere," Dean assured and sighed.

Cas nodded at that, and after a moment, stood back up. "I should go check on Sam," he explained.

"Sounds good," Dean agreed. He piped up again when Cas got a few steps from the door. "And Cas?" the angel turned. "Thanks." Cas smiled at that, inclined his head, and then left the room.

Dean eased himself back against the pillow, half expecting some onslaught of memories to attack him any moment. But aside from a slight pressure somewhere in his head, nothing else seemed amiss, which he was grateful for. Maybe, just maybe, his miraculous recovery and Sam's hopefully improved state meant they could head back to the bunker sooner rather than later.

Dean hadn't fallen asleep necessarily, he was just closing his eyes for a few minutes and convincing himself that things would work out. So he definitely wasn't unaware enough to not notice the slight knock at the door.

Half expecting it to be Cas, Dean opened his eyes, only to find Sam standing in the doorway. Okay, so maybe he'd had his eyes closed longer than he thought. He smiled slightly and came in as soon as he saw Dean was awake. Thankfully, Sam looked better than when Dean had gotten a glance at him, not quite as shaky.

"Hey," Sam greeted, his voice sounding just a bit whacky, which was probably an aftereffect of the fire. He sat down in the chair Cas had vacated earlier.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?" Dean asked and arched an eyebrow. The nurses earlier had seemed pretty keen on getting Sam back to bed and under medical supervision. Then again, neither of them had ever followed said supervision well, especially when the other was in a precarious position.

"Convinced them I could take a break," Sam shrugged minutely.

Dean actually chuckled at that. Sure, 'convinced', more like probably fought and mildly threatened, that was his Sam alright.

Dean shifted so he could be sitting more upright, and caught a glance of the bandages that were still around Sam's wrists and hands, which somewhat matched his own.

"You alright?" Of course, as with every variation of the 'you okay?' question, there were multiple meanings, and Sam knew well enough to be able to decipher them all. Which was why it mildly annoyed Dean when his little brother outright ignored the biggest unspoken one.

"Yeah, Cas' healing sped up a lot, bandages should be off in two days tops, yours probably tomorrow, burns weren't as bad," Sam answered and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn't a visible shift to the untrained eye, but it was enough to tell Dean that Sam was definitely avoiding the second question.

"So we can bust outta here then?" Dean smirked at the somewhat hopeful suggestion, and Sam just shrugged.

"You keep improving…two days maybe? For observation and all that."

"Not every day an amnesiac wakes from a second coma speaking in full sentences? Cas fill you in?"

Sam nodded at that, eyes turned from Dean to the bandages on his wrists which he fiddled with ever so slightly.

He'd fill Sam and Cas in with more detail later, from what he could remember, and depending on whatever came next, but there were other things to be dealt with first, namely the fact that he had apparently died again in front of the only family he had left. "Go on, say it," he waved his hand in front of him in a 'come on' motion.

Sam finally looked up, confused. "Say what?"

"The big 'I told you so'? The whole 'I was right, this was stupid and look what happened'?"

Sam sighed at the fact that they were finally getting around to the second part of the question. "It was stupid, Dean," he said quietly, "but I agreed because I get it. I know why we had to get out and do something, if it wasn't this case it would've been something else. And we helped people. I just wanted, once-" he cut himself off and shook his head.

"That it wouldn't end up like this?" Dean finished without missing a beat, since he had been thinking the exact same thing.

"Yeah," Sam affirmed in a somewhat broken tone that had Dean's chest tightening ever so slightly. "I mean, how many times can we…" die? Watch each other die? Be helpless to do anything to stop it? Sacrifice ourselves for our family or the good of the world? Dealer's choice.

"We should lodge a complaint or somethin' with the universe," Dean muttered in mock anger. To his credit, Sam let out a breathy laugh, which turned into a cough, before he smiled up at his brother. "Too friggin many, wish I had a better answer," he admitted, to which Sam nodded. "And I'm sorry you had to go through it all again, twice, in the past, what, month?"

"Dean," Sam warned immediately as he straightened in his seat, "none of it was your fault." Even though his apology could have been seen as being rejected by an outsider, Dean knew that Sam got what it meant. It went unspoken, just like half their conversations, and he was perfectly alright with that.

"Still…dare I say things may be getting back on track?" Sam rolled his eyes at that. "I get my brain cells back in order, we hop in Baby, drag Cas along with us, go for some Louisiana cajun food, maybe go after some sort of gypsy ghost or something? I dunno," Dean shrugged. "But we're figuring it out."

Sam only nodded in reply. Nothing else was needed. Per Billie's instructions and 'gift', and just the genetic makeup of the Winchesters, it was back to business as usual.

Under normal circumstances, Dean would have told Sam to get his butt back into bed and quit giving the nurses a hard time. He almost said it, but the way Sam kept looking at him like he'd vanish in an instant, the same way he did every time after…Dean kept his mouth closed. Because he'd looked at Sam the same way every time after he'd gotten him back.

But if Sam started having a coughing fit at his bedside, that was it, he was sending his little brother back to get some rest. But for the time being, Sam got more comfortable in the chair and flipped the channels on the television, looking for something mindless to pass the time. And of course, nerd that he was, he settled on Empire Strikes Back, part of the apparent rerun going on to promote the new standalone movie. They'd have to check it out sometime.

As soon as Han Solo popped up on screen, the corners of Dean's lips turned up into a smile, and if Sam noticed, he didn't say a thing.

Cas came in not long after, grabbed another chair and watched along with them as the world slowly began to right itself.