Here we go, last chapter! Thanks again to every single person who read this story. First completed multi-chapter fic! Whooo!
Thanks especially to all those who reviewed, favorited and followed. I hope y'all enjoyed the story. Reviews are always more than welcome!
Dean pushed open the door to their motel room and immediately looked toward the far bed, where Sam was no longer lying. Dean's eyes widened and he groaned, raking both hands through his hair. "Damn it, damn it!" He shouldn't have left his brother. Who knows where he'd gotten off to now.
Dean figured Sam couldn't have gotten far in his condition, so raced back out the door and began to comb the nearby streets for his brother. It was dark—there could be anything out there, and Sam was vulnerable. Dean continued to berate himself for being so thoughtless as every street yielded nothing.
His desperation growing, Dean pulled out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial for Sam's phone. It rang and then went to voicemail, and Dean hung up with a growl of frustration, not bothering to leave a message.
He hurried down past a bar and into the next alleyway, dialing Sam's number again. After the second ring he froze, looking around—he could have sworn he'd heard his brother's ringtone.
Hope rising in his chest, he hurried down the street, seeing a tall figure slumped against the wall on the ground.
"Sammy," Dean breathed in relief, pocketing his phone and hurrying to kneel at his side, pressing two fingers to Sam's neck. There was still a pulse, though it was weak and slow and did nothing to ease Dean's panic.
"Sam?" he said, pressing one hand to Sam's shoulder. He shook him gently. "Sammy?" He shook his brother more roughly, trying to stay calm. "Sam, wake up, come on, man. I burned those damn bones, you have to be all right." His hand tightened. "You have to be."
He pressed one hand to Sam's neck again, chest constricting when he felt that the pulse was even slower. "No, no, no, Sam. Come on. Come back to me. Please"
Sam did not move. Dean's hands fisted in his brother's shirt and his breaths came out more shallow. "S-Sam?"
His brother didn't answer. Dean gave an unintelligible noise of anguish, teeth clenched against rising tears. This could not be happening. Not now. Not again. He'd done everything he could, done so much to protect Sam, put everything, including his own soul, into protecting his brother, and yet…
This was how he would lose Sam? Before he would even fulfill his contract?
Dean lost the rest of his strength and leaned forward, resting his forehead against his brother's, breathing harshly through his teeth, hands tightening on Sam's shirt as he struggled to retain the control that was quickly slipping.
"God, Sam," he whispered, eyes shut tight. "Don't do this to me."
The moment he said these words, a shudder rippled through Sam's body and he gasped, his hand flying up to grasp Dean's wrist. Dean's eyes shot open the moment he felt Sam move and he caught his breath. "Sammy?"
"Dean—" Sam's eyes locked on Dean's and Dean felt an immense wave of relief—Sam still remembered him.
"Damn it, Sam," he breathed. "Don't scare me like that again."
"I remember," Sam said. "Everything. You burned the bones?"
Dean nodded. "You remember everything? Then, uh…what did I say, when…after the heart attack. When I checked myself out and came back to the motel room. What did I say about leaving the hospital?"
"You said…" A small smile made its way across Sam's face. "I'm not going to die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot."
At that Dean grinned, full and genuine and relieved, his one hand reaching up to grip the back of Sam's neck. His touch, warm and solid and there, made Sam feel equal relief and was grateful when Dean didn't let go for several long moments, needing the familiar contact of his brother.
"Son of a bitch, Sam."
Sam managed to grin back, even though his eyes were still exhausted and his face pale. "And if I'm right, you then proceeded to nearly collapse as you came into the motel room, claiming to be just fine—"
"Yeah, you've got your memory back," Dean said, standing up. He gripped Sam's hand and helped him up as well. Sam's grin remained in place, but faltered slightly as he met Dean's eyes and remembered sitting across from Dean in that motel room, gazing at Dean's drawn, ashen features, feeling that unshakable fear claw its way through his stomach. Saying with certainty he didn't really feel—but that he needed to convey, for both of their sakes—I'm not going to let you die, period.
Sam had meant what he said, that he would do every single thing possible to save his brother, because Dean was the one thing he couldn't afford to lose. And Sam felt a surge of affection for his brother, because even after all that had happened to them, it was that bond, that tenacious hold both of them had on it, that had saved Sam's life.
"You know, I've never liked Tennessee." Dean said as they began back towards the street.
Sam chuckled tiredly, running his fingers through his long hair. "Yeah," he said. "Me neither."
SSS
Once again, both Sam and Dean were eager to get out of the town and back onto the road. Sam wanted to leave this town behind—this was one memory he wasn't keen on keeping close.
However, he couldn't forget the strange dream he'd had before waking up to Dean's desperate voice. Right before he'd come to her could swear he remembered seeing the figure of a girl with sad eyes who disappeared the moment he caught a glimpse of her.
He told this to Dean, who explained how this girl's family had abandoned her to die of cancer—their lack of money, how she probably would have died anyway, how she was already too far along when they found out about it.
"What else do you remember?" Dean asked, glancing over at his brother in the passenger seat.
"Um…" Sam scratched at the back of his neck. "Not a lot. Everything was dark, really dark…but I do remember one thing. You were there."
"What?"
"I mean, I saw you, while I was wandering around. I guess it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but you were there. You…talked to me."
"What did I, uh, say?"
Sam smiled at the skeptical tone of his brother's voice. "Hey, I don't know, I'd lost my entire memory. I was delirious. I needed something to ground me and the first thing my mind conjured up was you."
"So what did I say?"
"Uh…" Sam sighed. "You told me I was strong enough to hold on, you told me…you reminded me that I was your brother, and that…you weren't willing to lose me. So I held on."
Dead swallowed reflexively, not speaking for a minute in fear that his voice would choke up. "Wow," he said finally. "That's…that's something."
"Yeah. You're telling me."
SSS
Sam was asleep by the time Dean pulled over to get gas, and after filling the tank he figured he should give Bobby a call, to let him know that Sam was all right.
"Dean?" Bobby answered on the first ring, concern prominent in his voice, and Dean smiled to himself.
"Hey, yeah, Bobby, it's me."
"How's Sam?"
"He's fine," Dean said, and he could hear a breath of relief from the other end of the phone.
"Thank god," Bobby said. "Damn it, I'm old, kid. You can't keep making me fret like this. Be more careful!"
Dean chuckled, marveling at how much Bobby sounded like a worried mother. "Yeah, no kidding. Got the ghost just in time, though. Sam has his memory back, so he should be all right."
"Did he lose it all?" Bobby asked, quietly. "In the end…did he forget everything?"
"No," Dean said. "Not everything. He…well, he never forgot me, not completely."
"I didn't expect him to," Bobby said matter-of-factly, and Dean could hear the smile in his voice. "Out of all the memories that boy has, all the people he's ever met, you were the one thing his mind decided to keep an iron grip on. Sure as hell tells you something, doesn't it?"
Dean fought back a grin, glancing at his little brother, asleep in the passenger's seat, struck suddenly by a feeling of rightness. Screw the future, screw the past, screw death and demons and everything else—Sammy was safe. They were both exactly where they were supposed to be. Nothing else mattered, not at the moment.
"Yeah," Dean said. "I guess it does."
End