Author's Note: Well, it's been awhile since I visited Dean and Leah and it felt good to get back to them. Here's the next chapter. :)

Chapter 42

There it was again. That strange sound. Nothing distinct, no words; just a low, vibrating hum that had a haunting quality to it, like a subway train rumbling through a tunnel. Leah had no idea what it was, where it came from or what caused it, and despite knowing that those were issues that should concern her, at the moment none of them mattered.

Because when the odd sound arrived, so did Dean.

She waited patiently, afraid that any other response would bring things to an abrupt end. That had happened once before. She'd grown restless when it had started and in a heartbeat, everything had gone still, the opportunity to see Dean vanishing as quickly as it had begun. And then she'd ended up back in the room. God, she hated that room! It was the bane of her existence, reminding her of the small bedchamber that David Manning had held her captive in. Not in the way it looked; there was no printed wallpaper or old fashioned quilts, only plain white walls with plain white furnishings; but in the way it felt. Like a prison. Like a cold, barren, sterile prison.

The sound was growing louder and there was an accompanying swirl of light that started as a pinpoint, then slowly expanded until it completely surrounded her. It wouldn't be long now. Holding her breath, Leah remained motionless until the noise receded and the light grew dim. She blinked her eyes a few times to clear them and experienced a sudden, sharp tug on her heart as the beautiful face of the man she loved came into view. Dean was beside her, his head resting on her arm, his eyes closed.

Maybe he was sleeping. God, she hoped so. He always looked so tired when she saw him. Tired and sad.

"Dean."

She said his name softly, just a whisper, but the truth was she could have shouted it and the result would have been the same - nothing. No response at all. She'd tried to speak to him each time the loud hum and bright glow had brought him to her, but Dean couldn't hear her. He would just watch her with a lost, vacant look in his eyes. As though he could see her, her body at least, yet he had no idea that she was with him. How many times had that happened now? Over how many days? Or was it months? She had no idea. There was no concept of time where she was.

Where she was. If only she knew. Some sort of limbo, perhaps. She could remember everything. Her childhood, her family and friends, all the hunts she'd been on. Even being shot by Nigel. Or rather, David, who was possessing Nigel. It was what had happened after that that remained a mystery. She'd woken up all alone in that God forsaken room, unable to leave it until the noises had started and she'd been given these occasional glimpses of Dean.

Though they were brief, Leah had noticed that the visits did seem to be gradually increasing a little each time. It was a good sign, she imagined. A sign that things would begin to make sense and then she could find her way back. Back to her life. Back to Dean. An unbearable urge to touch him struck and she decided to take the risk, hurriedly reaching out. It was a moot gesture, she was certain he wouldn't be able to feel her anymore than he could hear her, but doing it would be a much needed balm to her aching soul. Her fingertips grazed the rigid, stubbled edge of his jaw - and she felt the prickly hairs as she brushed over them! A ripple of adrenaline spiraled out, racing along her arm and scattering throughout her body.

She could feel him! She could feel Dean!

Sam's brow furrowed in concern as he stood in the narrow doorway watching his older brother. Dean was sitting on the edge of one of the hospital room's uncomfortable chairs, his head resting on Leah's arm, the fingers of his left hand entwined with hers. The poor guy looked like hell and probably felt ten times worse, seeing as how he'd barely eaten or gotten any sleep in five agonizingly long days. The only thing he had done was sit by Leah's side, refusing to leave until the nurses kicked him out, and even then only staying away until it was safe to sneak back in.

Apparently the night crew had finally taken pity on him, Sam mused, or had simply flat out gotten tired of chasing him away, because there was a pillow and blanket tucked behind his back.

"Is he sleeping?" Amy asked, edging in front of Sam so she could see into the room.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe, but if so, I doubt it's been for long. We really need to get him out of here for a couple of hours, Ame."

She nodded in total agreement. Dean was barely hanging on, growing more irritated and obnoxious by the day which wasn't doing anyone any good. And with that stupid cop still lurking around it was simply the makings of a huge disaster.

"Maybe I should try talking to him." she offered.

Sam couldn't help but grimace at the suggestion. "You?"

Amy shot him a surprised look. "Yes, me."

"Talk to Dean?"

Surprise turned into exasperation. "Yes, Sam. Me. Talk to Dean. Maybe I can convince him to go by my place for a little while. I mean, there's always someone here with Leah so he should realize that if something changes while he happens to be taking care of a few necessities like eating, sleeping and bathing, we'd call him."

"Amy, you can't talk to him under normal conditions. Do you really think when he's like this you're gonna be able to get through to him?"

She gave him an are-you-out-of-your-mind stare down. "If by 'this' you mean ready to rip someone's head off and shove it up their nether regions, then you should know by now, Sam Winchester, that that is his normal condition when I'm around."

Glancing down at her, Sam caught the unmistakable look of determination and knew there was no sense in arguing with her. He'd lose. Besides, she did have a point. She was used to dealing with the blunt force of Dean's aggression, unlike her parents and each of the doctors and nurses who had tried to deal with him and quickly backed down. Hell, even he himself had, but he'd only eased up because he knew how badly Dean was hurting, that he needed time to adjust to what had happened. And time to come to terms with the possibility that even if Leah woke from the coma, she might never fully recover from this ordeal.

Brushing his cheek, Amy's features softened. "Let me try, Sam. We both know this is how he's coping, but we can't let him hurt himself in the process. I promise to be gentle."

That scared the hell out of him, but he agreed. "Okay, give it a try."

Amy slipped into the room and headed quietly for the bed. She was halfway there when Dean suddenly sat up in the chair, his back stiff and his eyes wide and wild. Assuming he'd had a nightmare, she hurried toward him, hoping to offer whatever comfort he might be willing to accept, but before she could reach him he fell forward, his large body covering her sister's smaller frame.

"Leah! Leah!"

Frightened by the sudden outburst, she and Sam rushed into the room. As Sam grabbed his brother and attempted to pull him back, Amy tried to see if Leah was all right. Dean had been gripping her sister's arms as he called her name and Amy worried that he might have pulled out some of the tubes that were attached.

"Damn it! Let go, Sam!" Dean's voice cracked as he barked out the order and tried to shove his brother away.

"What the hell is it, Dean?" Sam asked, worried that either Leah had stopped breathing or that his sibling was actually starting to lose it.

"She's awake! Christ, Sam she's awake! She touched me! She touched me!" By the frenzied expression on Dean's face, Sam had no doubt that something had happened. The only question was, was it a dream, wishful thinking...or dementia.

"Dean! Calm down, okay? You gotta calm down first, then we can talk about it." Still seeing no sign of rational thought behind the rounded green eyes, Sam tried a different tactic. "Listen to me! If you don't chill out, the nurses are gonna hear you and kick your ass outta here for good. You're not family, remember? They can do that. Is that what you want?"

That worked. Dean drew in several ragged breaths through his nose which he slowly exhaled through his mouth, his chest heaving as he did. Dragging a shaky hand over his face, he glanced at Sam and nodded. "Okay, okay, I'm good." His gaze darted to the door to verify the absence of any Nazi nurses, then returned to his brother. "How long have you been here? Didn't you see it? Come on, man, you must have seen it! Leah..." He turned and stared down at her still form. "I swear. I swear she did, Sam. She touched me."

Working to keep his expression devoid of cynicism, the younger Winchester studied Leah as she lay sedentarily beside them, then shot a curious look at Amy. Catching the unspoken question, Amy gave a slight shake of her head to confirm his own thoughts. Nothing had changed. Sam gently laid his hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed.

"Dean, look, you're stressed out and tired..."

Dean shook him off and leaned over the bed again, softly cupping Leah's cheek. "Come on, baby." he whispered. "Do it again. Come on, Leah."

A moment of panic passed between Sam and Amy. They felt as if they were watching some sort of mental meltdown and neither knew what to do. After a moment of listening to Dean's gentle pleads, Sam spoke up. "Dean, she might be able to hear you, but she didn't touch you. You fell asleep and must have been dreaming. Why don't you go to Amy's for awhile? Just, I don't know, eat something and take a short nap. We're here with her, she'll be okay."

Expecting a full out attack, Sam was stunned with the quiet response he received. "No. No, I'm good. I just, uh, I need some coffee and, uh..." Then Dean stopped and faced his brother. "You know what, you're right. Yeah, I need to go."

He brushed a soft kiss over Leah's lips, whispered something in her ear, then snatched his keys from his pants pocket and headed for the door. With a glance back, Dean said, "Keep a close eye on her. I won't be long."

Dean glanced at his watch. He'd been at the library for almost two hours. Damn it! He hated being away from Leah for so long but he'd hoped that by gaining a deeper understanding of comas, and even some insight into out of body experiences, he might find a way to get to her. He hadn't found a whole hell of a lot, and what little he did find didn't seem all that helpful. Closing the book in front of him, he added it to the large stack he'd accumulated and let out a sigh of frustration.

So much for that brainstorm. He scrubbed his hands over the top of his head then pressed the tips of his fingers to his temples. Think, Dean! What the hell are you supposed to do? Leah had reached out to him, that he was certain of. Sammy might have doubts, believe it was his brain shorting out on lack of sleep, but there wasn't the goddamned tiniest bit of uncertainty on his part. Leah had stroked his face, traced a path along the left side of his chin. He knew her touch better than he knew anything else in the entire freakin world and that's what he'd experienced. He wasn't going crazy and he hadn't been dreaming.

So now what? Just sit back and wait for it to happen again? Did it mean she was starting to come out of the coma? Or...or could it mean she was slipping further into it?

"Sonofabitch!" he swore, wishing he could punctuate his frustration by beating his fists on the top of the table.

"Now now. Is that the sort of language appropriate for a library?"

Startled, Dean swung around in his seat and faced the unwelcome visitor. "Falk. What the hell do you want?"

"Mind if I join you?" Without waiting for an answer, the portly detective dropped onto one of the small wooden seats across from Dean's.

"If I said yes, would you leave?" Dean ground out, his temper already piqued.

Falk barked out a soft laugh, drawing the attention of a few nearby patrons. "Afraid not."

"Fine. Then I will." He started to stand up, but the detective wrapped a beefy hand around his arm.

"Sit down. Dean." Seeing the impact the use of that name had on the younger man, Falk released him and sighed. "Yes, I know that's your name. Besides hearing your family and the hospital staff call you that - nice touch claiming it's your middle name, by the way - I, uh..." Grabbing one of the books from the nearby stack, the detective glanced at the cover and continued, " I did some research of my own. Did you really think you could hide who you are from me, Mr. Winchester?"

Dean did as suggested, sitting down heavily as the words sank in. This was not what he needed at the moment. How could he help Leah if he was in jail? "Look, whatever you think..."

Holding up his hand, Falk stopped him. "Nope. Don't need any lame ass lies, son. I know who you are and I know what you're wanted for. But that's not my concern."

"Excuse me?" Dean asked, totally baffled by the screwy comment the cop had thrown at him. "I don't, uh, I don't think I heard you right."

"Oh, you heard me." Resting his forearms on the table, he studied the younger man for a moment, then spoke in a low, conspiratorial voice. "I don't give one damn about what they claim you did in St. Louis. Besides, if Dean Winchester really commited those crimes, he's already paid for them. After all, he's dead. Right?"

Without the slightest clue as to what the guy was up to, Dean contemplated his options, which were sorely limited. Lie or play this out. Unfortunately, it was one crappy game they were playing. Not only was his future at stake, but quite possibly Leah's, as well. What the hell was Falk's deal? He was pursuing the shootings relentlessly, lurking on the sidelines day after day as though it were some newsworthy case, but he was the only cop who apparantly gave a shit. Nobody else had come around. Nobody else had asked questions.

Why?

Leaning across the tabletop until they were mere inches apart, Dean decided it was time to turn this around and put the detective on the hotseat for a change. "I know you've been hanging around the hospital. Watching me, my brother. Leah's family. Strange that nobody else from the local p.d. is. So tell me, Falk, if I were to do some research on you, would I find out that you're not even a real cop?"

A slow, lopsided grin touched the man's lips as he lightly tapped Dean's forehead. "I see you're finally thinking. About time." The smile faded. "You should have been asking that question a few days ago. True, your girl's in bad shape, but you and Sam, you need to stay sharp. Now, you answer a question for me. You like to hunt, Dean?"

Thoroughly floored by the comment, Dean managed to keep his expression bland. Obviously the guy knew more about him and Sam than Dean had originally suspected. Still, he wasn't about to share information, not until he learned more about this 'cop'.

"And hurt Bambi? Not my style."

Falk chuckled. "You are quite the smart ass, aren't you? All right, why don't you tell me what your style is, then?" He paused, but seeing no answer forthcoming, glanced around to make sure there was nobody lingering within listening distance before continuing. "Let me take a shot at it, okay? I think you're more into chasing a rather unusual breed." When Dean still failed to answer, he said, "Look, I know exactly what you do. You and Sam and others like you."

TBC