"Billie", Dean called into the darkness. "I'm here."
"I see you boy." The chocolate skinned reaper appeared behind Dean and he whirled around to face her. "Hello Dean."
Dean sighed, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath. "I'm ready." He held out a hand.
"For what?" Billie asked, she raised her eyebrows in confusion. "Oh sweet Dean, it's not your time yet. You still have your part to play, a mark to make. Do you want to save your angel and your brother, or not?"
His angel. His angel and his brother. "I need to go back," Dean whispered. He felt almost reluctant to jump back into the pain, the tears and sorrow. But at the same time there was the thrill of the chase, death coming at all angles. It was the fox, he was the hare, jumping through hoops and racing through burrows to avoid it. And there was love, the undying, pure emotion that kept him running for years. Love, what had started it all and love, what would finish it. "How?" he asked.
"I'll take you, but first promise me this: save your angel, take care of your brother, and when I come, accept my hand."
Dean swallowed. "Promise."
"We'll see each other again Dean." She walked off, curly hair bouncing behind her.
"I'm sure."
"Hey Dean," Sam whispered, sitting beside his brother bed in the hospital. "So the doctors...they um...said that you wouldn't wake up. They said you inhaled too much smoke and your vitals were damaged." He raked a hand through Dean's dirty blonde hair, stiff with blood and let out a bitter laugh. "If only we had Cas with us." Sam swallowed, feeling tears prick his eyes. "I..if you don't...you know...wake up...I'll find him Dean, I'll kick Lucifer's ass back to the cage myself."
Dean's heart monitor beeped steadily. He was hooked up the several different machines though thankfully oxygen was not one of them. His body looked small and fragile on the hospital sheets and Sam's heart clenched in pain. Dean had been here for two days only but somehow, just seeing him like this made Sam realize how much Cas's loss had affected his older brother. Dean's eyes were sunken, even asleep he looked tired and he had lost a good fifteen pounds he did not have the luxury of loosing, making his cheekbones and collarbones more prominent than ever.
"Dean, please. You have to wake up," Sam's voice broke. "How could I go on without you? Please...jerk."
"Bitch," came a soft, hoarse response. Dean's green eyes, dull with exhaustion, blinked up at Sam. A small smirk twisted his features.
Sam stared at him. "Dean.." he breathed. "Oh God."
"Shh..come here little brother," Dean whispered, reaching up a shaky hand and brushing the thumb under Sam's eye. He hadn't even realized he was crying.
Sam threw himself forwards as Dean sat up to take in his surroundings, colliding with his older brother and causing him to exhale painfully. Dean gripped his brother tightly with his good arm, feeling him sobbing into his shoulder and returning the hug with as much vigor. "I thought..." Sam whispered. "Billie..."
"She said it wasn't time yet."
Sam couldn't hold back his sobs any longer and held his brother closely, as if he would slip away the second Sam removed his arms.
There ain't no me if there ain't no you!
The doctor was a tall, thin woman with olive skin and large, intelligent almond eyes. She had black hair always pulled into a pony tail and a "my way or the high way" look on her face as she peered down at Dean. "It's a miracle Mr. Henshaw," the doctor said. "You had three broken ribs, a broken arm, severe head trauma, lots of smoke intake, several wounds that required stitches, and you were hardly breathing when we got to you but began to regulate when your brother was here. You're lucky.
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Well," he said turning to Sam who had turned a concerning shade of grey upon hearing the list of injuries. "I don't know what to say. Thank you Doctor."
"Yes, thank you so much," Sam said breathlessly. "You saved his life."
The doctor shook her head. "It was his will to fight that saved him," she told Sam. "But honestly, you must have some guardian Angel on your shoulder."
Dean let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah," he said dryly, "not so much."
If the doctor heard him, she made no comment and smiled down at the brothers. "I'd best be going then," she said. "Mr. Henshaw, I think it's best if we keep you a few more days."
"Okay," Dean said, shooting her a smile. "Whatever you say."
Sam sighed and shook his head. "Thank you Doc."
She smiled at both of them again and left the room. Dean slumped back on his bed, groaning in pain.
"Hey," Sam whispered. "Dean, you okay?"
"I'm fine Sammy," Dean sighed. "Some burns, cuts and a broken arm. It's nothing compared to Hell Hounds or the Mark."
"Don't. Don't try and play this off as a joke. You could have died!"
"But I didn't." There was that smirk again.
Sam felt annoyance and anger bubble in his stomach. "But you almost did! Dean, I thought you were dead after I got you out! Couldn't find a pulse for a minute!"
Dean furrowed his brow and held up a hand. "Woah woah woah woah. You got me out? How? Dude, you were out cold went I pushed you out that door!"
Sam shrugged. "Rock hit my face," he said, pointing to the stitches on his left cheekbone. "I was dazed but kinda snapped out of it when I realized you weren't with me."
"So you went back in there?" Dean sounded incredulous.
"I mean, yeah. You were in there and I needed to get you out."
"Okay...wow, just...just give me the full story. What did you do?"
Sam felt the sharp rock cut into his flesh. He smelled the blood and smoke around him and rolled over, moaning as his burnt and cut back touched earth. He heard a great crash behind him and a strangled yell that could only belong to his brother. "Dean!" he tried to scream but the words were lodged in his throat. "Dean!" This time it rang out clearly and he fought to keep himself on his feet, tripping over himself in an effort to reach the collapsing house.
Sam looked down from the threshold at the gaping hole slowly being consumed by fire. In the centre he saw a shadowed shape. He squinted. "Dean!" he screamed but his older brother was unresponsive to his calls. "Shit." Sam ran a hand through his hair, concentrating on his breathing. He raced on shaky legs around to the basement door, yanking it open to leap over flames and furniture and unopened boxes that must have belonged to the long dead woman who lived there.
Dean was lying on his back, his eyes closed and blood dripping from his forehead and mouth. Sam dropped to his knees beside him, from the way he was positioned, Sam could tell Dean had broken at least one rib. Carrying his brother out of here fireman style would be too risky so instead he scooped an arm under Deans knees and snaked an arm around his back, pulling him up against him so that his head rested on Sam's collarbones. Then he ran.
By the time they got out, Sam's head was swimming from lack of oxygen. He gently set Dean down and pressed two fingers to his neck, praying. Nothing. "No..no..Dean please wake up," Sam whispered. "Please no...not now." He pulled Deans body up against him, cradling his big brother against him as if he could protect him from the cold night air. "NO."
All he could think of was of the Hell hounds ripping at his brothers flesh, blood spurting as the invisible creatures tore him apart, and when Sam had gotten over to him...well... It had been nightmarish. Dean's green eyes staring at the ceiling, blank with the fog of death. All he saw was Metatron stabbing the angel blade into his brother and the blood running in rivets down his face. Those words he had whispered shakily before collapsing.
I'm proud of us.
All Sam could think about was that he would have to take Dean home. Drive his body back to the bunker and burn it because this time, this time it was forever. No angel would pull his brother out of Hell, no trickster would smile and say "it's not real." No mark on his arm would bring him back, demon or otherwise.
Then Dean coughed and Sam jumped as his warm breath misted the side of Sam's neck. "Oh thank God," he whispered, holding his brother tighter than he would ever admit to. "Thank God."
It took five minutes for someone to appear, ten for an ambulance and another five for the doctors to coax Sam to release his brother. Then, mercifully, Sam passed out.
