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"The Light Wraps You Left Off

"Come the Day" by Karen

The facts would not change no matter how much Sam Winchester wished that they would. His brother was in a coma and there was precious little that all of the doctors and medical experts could do about it. Sam sat in the chair by Dean's beside holding onto one ghost-pale hand that had poked out from beneath the coverlets of the hospital bed wondering just how much of any of this that Dean could actually hear and feel. A lot about this situaiton simply did not make sense, and Sam was not thinking about it in medical terms.

After all Dean's condition was not caused by any biological failure on the part of his body, instead it was due to the spirt creature that they had both faced down and thought that they had contained.

There had been times over the years that Sam had wished he had never been brought back into the Winchester family business, hunting and elliminating creatures. And in back corner of his mind, Sam wondered if his brother had ever had similar doubts.
Dean would never admit to expressing those doubts aloud, even when it had been just the two of them, and especially not when it came to their father.

Dean had always been the good son, the obidient son, the golden boy.

It was Sam that to both his brother and his father's way of thinking, had strayed from the path, had gone off on his own to college, tried to get away from the weridness, but inevitablely he should have known it drag him back.

So here he was, stuck in a hospital room, the intenstiy of both his grip on his older brother's hand;
the intensity of his gaze pleading with whatever guaridan spirits watched over fools, madmen, and brothers, to bring Dean back.

"Dean, I don't know if you can hear me or not," Sam said, "but I'm going to talk and you are going to listen,
Sam exhaled a tiny chuff of inheld breath, blinking his eyes, wondering why he cared if anyone saw him shed buckets of tears. "Not like you have a choice about whether or not you listen to me right now. So here goes. You see, I really thought I had an opportunity to forge my own path, be the master of my own destiny, but when I saw that thing, that creature staring at me with those empty eye-sockets, I thought my number was up, you know what I mean?"

A slight increase in the pressure of the hand in his own made Sam believe it was Dean's way of responding, but that may have been just wishful thinking, in any case, Sam took as the first positive step toward Dean's recovery and kept going. "I guess, you do, since we're here." Sam used his free hand to gesture around at their surroundings. "Look, maybe I don't know what the hell I'm talking about, maybe I do, but you need to promise me one thing, the way you always took care of me when we were kids, you need to wake up, because I don't know what I'd without you."

Dean's eyelids twitched and the light flitering through the room's curtains turned the black of his eyelatches a midnight blue, the air from the ceiling fan above their hands creating subtle patterns in his close-cropped hair. In the back of his mind, Sam hoped that it meant that Dean was fumbling his way towards the light, struggling to get out of whatever dark place that his mind found itself, and wake up.

Sam's guess was not far off the mark.

Dean was in a dark place, but it was more due to a ground-choking fog than actual absence of sunlight.

He could not recall with any exact detail how he had gotten here because the last thing Dean could remember with any certainy was being in the parking lot, surrounded by people trying to back out and jaming the exits,
he had come to confront the spirit creature who had been sucking the energy out of the locals, the thing had only made the briefests of momentary contacts, and the next he recalled afeter blacking out and losing consciousness, was Sam bending over, offering a hand to help him to his feet, and he was here, wherever the hell 'Here' was.

The fog was all around him, but Dean was not going to learn anymore about his present circumstances by just standing around in one place, he began moving forward, picking what he felt to be a northerly direction at random, and by feel, wishing that he had had his compass in the back pocket of his jeans, but it was not there.

The sound of his booted feet on the soft ground made plop plop nosies as he kept walking as the fog parted softly to let more flitered moonlight down through breaks in the tree tops and broken columns of chunks of stone.

He appeared to be walking through some kind of old abandoned park,and from the looks of the place nobody had passed through this place in some time.

Encounter

A figure stood by one of the broken columns that had once been part of a swing set as Dean approached the figure did not change its stance, rather it appeared to have been waiting for him. At this point, Dean did not care, although he had not lost all of his protective instincts honed over years of working and hunting with both his father and with his brother, Sam.

"It's about time," said the figure.

"Sorry," said Dean, "Didn't know I was here to keep an appointment., maybe next time you should call ahead first.
And here I thought my number had been perememantly disconnected."

"If you don't shut up and listen to me, it just might be."

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" Dean demanded, "My guaridan angel?" I don't believe in that kind of mumbo-jumbo."

"I am aware of that," the other said. "Most people do not, and that very skepticsm can be both harmful and beneficial, in your case its a lifestyle choice."

"You have gotta be kidding me," Dean snapped in return.

"I could," the other replied. "I have been known to indulge in that sort of tinkering with the fates of mortals, but in all seriousness we simply do not have time for that sort of tinkering."

"Great, cyrptic and creepy to boot, " Dean muttered under his breath as he stuffed his cold hands into the pockets of his jacket tyring to get some warmth. He looked down at the ground, then up at the sky, grayish blue and cloudy then back at the still unidentifed other. It was nice to have someone to talk to, but did the guy have to be so damned cryptic and roundabout with his answers? Dean figured that maybe just maybe this guy had grabbed the wrong Winchester to dispense his cryptic wisdom to, after all, Sam was the one who loved this kind of stuff, maybe he should tell the guy that.

"Pay attention, Dean." the other said, sounding more annoyed now. "You stand on the brink, this place, all around you is just a manifestation of your subconcisous."

"Great, a figment of my imagination is being all mysterious on me."

"I'm not a figment of your imagination, just the setting of our conversation is, please try and understand, would you?" The diffuse moonlight seemed to bend around the specter or whatever it was, and it appeared that the leather coat that he wore grew the shadow of black wings. Dean blinked and in the few seconds it took for him to focus again, a black-winged, beady-eyed crow had come to roost on the right shoulder of other man.

Dean stared at the crow, the crow stared back; Dean was the one to break eye contact first.

"Okay, pretending that I understand any of this, what do you want with me?

"I need you to understand that you have started down a path, and you must net allow yourself to be sidetracked. "

"Sure, no problem."

"Look, that very nocholance and arrogance was the very thing that almost got you killed, so if you want to leave this place, please take what I have to say seriously."

"Sure."

The other let out a heavy sigh, and reached up a hand to stroke the glossy feathers of the bird on his shoulder. "I'll take that as a yes." It's time for you go back. Do try and think about and use what you've learned here, moving forward, will you?"

Conclusion "Welcome back to the land of the living," Sam whispered as Dean sat bolt upright in bed, blinking and staring around.

"Sam, is that you?" Dean exclaimed, reaching out both arms straight out from his body and flailing around wildly,
finding nothing solid to latch onto. Suddenly he was both angry and afraid, and at the moment, the fear was stronger.

"Yeah, it's me." Sam almost choked out. "Who else would it be?"

"It's good to be back" Dean replied. "I had the strangest dream. What time is it?"

"It's 7am, you hungry?" replied Sam, blinking back tears of relief and joy to hear his brother's voice. Sam recahed up and wiped away the wet tracks the tears had made on his cheeks with the back of his sleeve as he stood up and went over to the other side of the bed where he had stashed both of their belongings. He squatted down, unzippered the back and took out a plastic bag that held a sad-looking grilled cheese sandwich.

"I could eat." Sam handed Dean the sandwich. "Thanks, it's gotta be better than hospital food.
"We'll go and get something more substanial once they release you from here."

"I dreamt that I was a gloomy abandoned park, and I meant a crow who turned into a guy, then he told me I had too much to do to let myself be sidetracked and told me I was being sent back."

"Agreed, a very strange dream." Despite his own better judgement Sam allowed a small, wry grin to slip out and he said. "Truth to tell I was getting a tad bit impaitent for you to wake up. It's nice to hear your voice, surly and icorrigble as ever." You feeling better?"

"Yeah, good to see you too, and it's good to be back," Dean returned the grin.