Chapter 5

Sam paced the room for what seemed like forever as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, making everything around him appear to be bright and cheery. It was anything but that to him as he shuffled from one corner of the room to another across the empty space in the center where the bed had been that was now gone. He'd brush his hair out of his face every now and then, but wouldn't sit, couldn't sit. So he just paced and waited.

He hadn't slept in hours either, not once closing his eyes since Dean had woke up, not even when he'd seemingly passed out after that awful seizure wracked his body, afraid his brother would have another one at any second. That never happened, his sleep being uneventful but for the occasional mumble Sam couldn't even make out escaping his lips. They'd come and taken him away a couple hours ago, wanting to run their usual test, needing to find out what the cause of the episode had been, needing to find out if there was something they'd missed or something new developing. Sam figured they probably just wanted to cover their own asses, and since someone else was footing the bill, he really didn't care.

He continued his nervous pacing across the room he'd truly come to hate. He had rarely left it over the last five weeks, and when he did it was never for more then an hour or two at a time. When he wasn't sitting next to his brother talking to him or with the TV blaring out one of Dean's favorite movies, he'd sit in silence and stare at the walls, listening to his brother breathe, every now and then holding his hand, needing to feel for himself that it was still warm in his own and hoping he'd eventually come back to him.

They hadn't held out much hope in the beginning, but as each day went by, they were more and more optimistic, although they had told Sam on more then one occasion that Dean may never wake up and he should prepare himself for that. They were dead wrong though, and if it meant they'd have to live the rest of their lives with this new problem, at least it was better then living the rest of his life alone. He just hoped Dean would feel the same way. Looking at the positive side, at least the positive side to Sam, maybe now they'd finally start to live some kind of semi-normal lives. Hunting would be totally out of the question if Dean's condition was permanent.

He was so totally lost in his own thoughts he almost jumped from his own skin when he felt his phone vibrating in the back pocket of his jeans, thankful Dean hadn't heard the shriek of surprise that came from his mouth like a startled schoolgirl finding a big hairy spider in her locker. He pulled the phone from his pocket and flipped it open, not even bothering to see who it was. Only one person ever called them anymore these days, and it was the only person, other then Dean, Sam wanted to talk to anyway.

"Hey Bobby, where are you?" Sam answered his phone with a question, the tone of voice sending up instant red flags to the man on the other end.

"I'm on my bay back. Anything new?" Bobby asked, his familiar gruff tone making Sam feel somewhat better, making him feel like he wasn't so alone in the world.

"Dean woke up Bobby, late last night," he started to answer, Bobby cutting him off mid-sentence.

"He's awake? That's good news Sam. How does he feel?" The usually stoic hunter couldn't hide the excitement in his voice.

"Bobby, something's wrong. We were talking, then he just started having some kind of seizure, and he's been out again ever since. They're running some tests now to see if they can figure out why." Sam's voice not sharing Bobby's enthusiasm as it came out tired and pained. Sam could almost see the older hunter's face fall as he told him what happened.

"You were talking? What were you talking about?"

"We were talking about the accident, and what happened, then he just started convulsing. It was awful to watch, I can't even imagine how it must have felt. It looked so painful."

"Boy, you gotta stop beating yourself up over this, will ya? I know you think this is all your fault, but I'm telling you it's not. Shit happens sometimes Sam, and it's nobody's fault."

"But Bobby, if I'd just…" Sam started but Bobby cut him off quickly, not wanting to hear anymore guilt from Sam mouth. There was something about Winchester guilt that never seemed to end.

"If you'd just what Sam? If you'd just not been so pissed at him that you didn't want to breathe the same air as he did and weren't walking so far ahead you couldn't push him out of the way and take the hit yourself? Then you'd be laying there and he'd be in your shoes, and you know what that would be like for him. He's worse then you are when it comes to that. Let it go Sam, he doesn't need it and neither do you. I'll be there in a couple days and your pity party better be over and all cleaned up by the time I get there, because I have no intentions of chaperoning it, you got that?"

"Yeah, I got it. See you in a couple days, and thanks Bobby," Sam knew Bobby was right, he was always right, but that didn't really make him feel that much better. He needed to talk to Dean, needed to know that Dean didn't blame him, that Dean forgave him.

"Call me if anything else happens Sam, and I mean anything."

Bobby hung up the phone without waiting for an answer, leaving Sam to rethink everything he'd said to him. How did Bobby know them so well anyway? Back to his pacing he went after stuffing the phone back into his pocket, until he heard the footsteps coming from the hall, pausing outside the door for a few moments before coming inside. Sam had become all too familiar with the medical staff that rotated in and out, this time the neurologist paying a visit. Considering the circumstances, who else would it be anyway?

"Dr. Andrews, how's Dean? What's wrong with him now?" Sam asked, sounding like a scared child begging for a parent.

"There's nothing wrong with him that stands out Sam. Everything looks fine. We ran every test we could think of and found no abnormalities. It was probably just an isolated incident and probably won't happen again but we'll watch him carefully for the next few days just to be sure, so relax, will you? He should be back in here any minute, and I'm sure you two still have a lot to talk about."

"He's awake?" Sam's eyes perked up, a positive light starting to shine in them for the first time since the night before when he'd heard his brother speak to him for the first time in weeks.

"He was when I left him. Wanted to know if you'd go get him a burger, fries, and a six pack since we've taken out the feeding tube. He had a few choice words for me when I told him no, so if he asks, he has to eat what we give him and that's it for now, nothing else."

"Great, that'll put him in a stellar mood."

"Oh, so that's what you call that, stellar? No offense Sam, but I think I preferred him when he was still in the coma. At least he was peaceful and compliant then."

"Yeah, that's Dean. I'll talk to him. Don't worry doc, eventually he'll grow on you." Yeah, grow on you like a fungus.

"I'm not worried, I've dealt with worse people then that before." Dr. Andrews told Sam, leaving him to sit and wait for Dean's return.

The news finally delivered, Sam could sit and relax slightly now, only feeling half better. He'd feel completely at ease once he saw his brother with his own eyes. He'd only been sitting there for maybe all of five minutes when they'd brought him back in, sitting up with his arms crossed tight over his chest and a nasty scowl etched onto his face. Sam knew what that look meant, and tried to prepare himself for what was coming. Once they'd situated him back in his spot in the room and left, he let the words start to fly.

"Sam, I've been awake for all of what, three hours at most, and I'm already ready to kill myself. Do you know what they gave me to eat? Oatmeal and sugar-free lime Jello. What the hell is that? Sugar free? Come on, give me a break. May as well put that damn tube back in, at least I don't have to taste that shit! Sam, I want you to get me out of here, and I mean now! I don't want to spend another minute in this god forsaken place!"

The scowl on Dean's face getting harsher and harsher with every word that came from his mouth only made the smile on Sam's face spread wider and wider, until he actually started to laugh. Listening to Dean's tirade about hospitals that he was expressing with such zeal made him fully realize that his brother was back in all his obstinate glory. Sam couldn't be any happier then what he was at just that moment.

"Dean, did you notice the cast on your leg, you know, that thing there that goes from your foot to your hip? Or the one on your wrist that's crossed over your chest right now? I'm wondering if those crushed ribs you had are still sore, because I gotta tell you, I bet they are. And your back, well, that may be a little sore too. I'm not taking you out of here until they tell me I can, so unless you're ready to walk out of here on your own, I'm thinking you're staying just a little while longer," Sam smirked his answer, ready for the next barrage to come, fully prepared to take it.

"If that's the way you want it, then I'll just check myself out then. I want out of here Sam. I want real food, I want a crappy, lumpy motel bed, and I want to smell my damn car. Don't make me beg you Sammy."

"Too late big brother, you already are. God Dean, I don't think I've ever heard you whine so much. I tell you what, you get up from that bed and walk across the room, and I'll take you out of here tonight," Sam challenged.

"Yeah, I'd like to see that too," an unfamiliar voice called from the door as it's owner came fully into the room and sidled up to the bedside.

Dean and Sam both stared at her, wondering who the hell she thought she was barging into their room and forcing herself into their conversation. She was a petite thing, almost Dean's age, but the way she walked told both brothers that she meant business and wasn't going to take any bullshit. Blonde haired, steely blue eyed, and all of a hundred pounds, she stared at Dean, hands firmly planted on her hips as she waited for a response. Dean actually felt intimidated by her, so much so he couldn't really think of anything trademark to say. Sam watched the visual exchange between the two of them and decided to back off and let Dean fight his own battle.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean finally spit out, it being the only thing he could think of to say.

"I'm your new best friend Dean, or maybe your new worst enemy. You've been laying in that bed for five weeks totally immobile, do you really think you're going to just get up and stroll out of here? I don't think so. I'm here to work you like a dog and get you walking again, and you're probably going to hate me by the time we're done, but that's ok, everyone usually hates me in the end," she smiled at him in a no-nonsense sort of way, her body language telling Dean it would take a lot to get her goat.

"So, you're the physical torturer the told me they were sending, is that it?" Dean asked, knowing where this conversation was going.

"Physical therapist, not torturer."

"Same thing. I don't need your help, so thanks, but no thanks."

"You think so, huh? Let's just see then shall we?" She reached under the bed and cranked it down as low as it would go, then rounded to the other side to stand at the unbroken half of Dean's body. Tossing the blanket and sheet covering him to side and exposing his bare leg, she grabbed his foot and bent his leg inward in one quick motion, knowing if she'd pushed any harder his knee would be in his chest. Dean just stared at her with nothing but shock spread across his face, the pain it gave him in his back not even registering.

"Ok Dean, you push me away from you, I'll leave you be. Come on tough guy, let's see if you can move a little girl."

She mocked him as Sam stood a few feet away with his hands over his mouth, trying to hide the ear to ear grin he'd sported across his face ever since she'd opened her mouth and started challenging his brother. Dean looked even more pissed then he was when he first came back into the room, and with all the strength he had tried to kick her off him. She felt the force coming and braced her arms and legs to counter, her body not moving an inch in the opposite direction as Dean made a pathetic effort to push her away. He relaxed his body as she relaxed hers, but after a few short seconds and a few deep breaths, he tried again, this time not tensing up before he gave her his shove. She was quick though, her counter against his sneak attack sending her nowhere yet again. She dropped his foot in victory and let it fall back to the bed limply, hands immediately finding their place on her hips again and resting there as she stared Dean square in the eyes. His face turned red, either from anger or embarrassment, or both, but it really didn't matter. He'd lost, and lost big, because Sam had seen the whole thing.

"Now, if I may be allowed to introduce myself, I'm Julia Campbell, and I'll be your physical therapist. Any questions."

Sam finally stepped from the shadow he'd slunk himself into to laugh at his brother's expense and extended a hand in greeting to the ballsy woman. He felt like he finally had an ally in his war against Dean's will.

"Hi, I'm Sam, Dean's brother."

Taking the extended hand and shaking it firmly, she spoke back, ignoring Dean altogether. "Nice to meet you Sam. Would you mind leaving us alone for a little while? We have some things to do. Maybe an hour or two, depends on how cooperative Dean here is. What do you say Sam?"

"I say nice to meet you and see you later," he looked at her, then redirected his attention to Dean. "Have fun Dean," he chirped to him before he hastily made his escape, leaving Dean no time to respond.

Sam wandered down the hall with a slight spring in his step and a lingering chuckle in his head. He felt good for the first time in weeks, finally able to get some fresh air and actually enjoy it this time. Sam took full advantage of the time he'd been given, getting some real food to eat, finally doing some much needed laundry that had been sitting dirty in the Impala's trunk for weeks, and calling Bobby to tell him what was going on and hearing the much anticipated 'I told you so' once and only once. No need to rub it in, he guessed. He'd been gone for almost three hours by the time he'd made it back, his eyes not really sure he was seeing what he was seeing when he entered the doorway.

He watched Dean from the door silently at first, the TV on but no sound coming through as Dean had opted for the headphones instead. He caught the last scene of the movie before the credits started to roll as Dean laid there, tissues in hand, crying like a baby. Sam walked in a little further, still studying him intently.

Hunter's instincts still fully intact, Dean saw him in his peripheral vision, but made no effort to hide his emotions. Pulling off the headphones and tossing them to the side, he looked at Sam in a way he'd never seen come across Dean's face before as Sam slowly came closer, finally face to face.

"Dude, you OK? Sam questioned, confusion evident in his voice.

"Hey Sam, you're back. You ever see this movie? It's called 'The Notebook', very sad," he sniffled and wiped his nose with the tissues he'd bunched up in his fist, his eyes red from the tears they'd shed.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my brother? In your entire life Dean you've never cried watching a movie, ever. And what ever happened to 'no chick flick moments'? That movie is the epitome of chick flicks, why the hell are you watching it?"

Dean straightened up in his bed, not quite sure how to answer Sam. He was right, he didn't do chick flicks, so why was he watching one now, and enjoying it? Flipping off the TV with the remote, he quickly tried changing the subject as he tossed the hand held device back down on the mattress.

"Dude, how could you leave me alone with Nurse Ratched? Do you have any idea what she did to me?" Dean whined, his voice not really coming out as his own.

"No I don't Dean, and I don't think I want to judging by the sound of your voice," Sam knew this was a feeble attempt by his brother to change the subject, and he let him have it, the whining in Dean's voice actually sounding like he meant it.

"Yeah, well, after she abused me to no end, they brought something called lunch. You know what that was? Some kind of mystery cream soup that was a color I can't even describe, a hard boiled egg, some toast, and a banana. What am I, some old man in a nursing home with no teeth? God Sam, if we don't get out of here soon, I'm going to kill more then myself." Dean ranted as Sam listened to every word his brother said.

"Quit complaining Dean, you're alive aren't you?" Sam knew that was a low blow, but he was really tired of hearing the complaining already. Dean hated being in hospitals, but this was getting a little ridiculous.

"Fine. I'm tired anyway. Can you close the blinds and turn off the lights. That sadomasochist therapist did me in anyway, and she's coming back tomorrow, oh joy!" Dean threw his good arm over his eyes and waited for Sam to turn off the lights. He really did just want to sleep, sick of hearing his own whine at this point.

"Are you sure you're alright Dean?" Sam asked him, somewhat concerned at the change in his brother's behavior. Maybe there was something wrong with his head.

"Yeah Sam, I'm good. Just let me sleep, thanks."

Sam did as his brother asked, closing the shades and turning off the lights, the room immediately falling into pitch darkness. He grabbed his laptop and left the room to let him sleep in peace, not feeling the need to watch Dean like a hawk anymore. He closed the door behind him and found a spot to squat and surf the web. Yeah, he felt pretty good right now, felt like he was actually living again.

Dean laid there in the dark, the silence in the room not as soothing as he thought it would be. He was tired, but he just couldn't make himself sleep. Close to drifting off a few times, he thought he heard voices that brought him back around, his ears scanning the room for where they may be coming from. He knew he was alone, but that didn't stop him from wondering who was talking. The voices must be coming from the hall or through the walls, because they weren't coming from his room. He started to drift off again, this time his mind swimming as his body started to stiffen. He jerked against the bed uncontrollably as another seizure struck him, the voice coming in loud and clear the instant it started, increasing in volume the more violent his jerking became.

"Dean, please, you have to help. There are two of us now, and more to come. Please, you have to stop him. I'm sorry I have to do this to you, but it's the only way I can communicate that you'll hear me. Please, you have to find the answer," she spoke in a hurried voice, not knowing how long she would be able to hold the communication.

"Who are you," Dean mentally choked out as his body contorted in every direction possible, it slowly starting to calm itself to just shaking as sweat heavily poured from him and settled against the sheets.

"Remember what you saw after the accident, you'll figure it out." she got out before the convulsions were finally over, her connection to his mind totally broken. He laid there utterly exhausted, his mind ready to fall into the deep sleep it so craved.

As his body was finally unable to take anymore abuse for the day, it shut itself off for the night, his eyes wandering towards the door that now had been lighted up somehow. He faintly saw the vision of a blonde woman that looked vaguely familiar standing there as she illuminated the corner with her own light and pierced him with her deep blue eyes before falling totally asleep, his mind trying to figure out where he'd seen her before