So, after that last chapter are you all ready for Sam's reawakening? Are you ready to find out if he made it forty years or not? Okay then, here is the next chapter. Now, I know I didn't go too much into Sam's time in hell, but I think less is more in some cases. So, on with the story.

Cindy.

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Two Months Later-11:30 P.M.

Dean sat in a chair next to the low table that held Sam's cold body. Sam had been kept in Bobby's iron lined room as it was the best place to keep his body safe. Dean held Sam's hand while brushing his fingers tenderly through the still man's hair.

"It's almost time, Sammy. It's almost time for you to come home," he whispered softly as he continued to stroke Sam's hair. "I'm sorry…I…when the visions stopped, I was glad. I was glad to not have to see you suffer Sammy. I…it was worse though…not knowing what was happening to you."

Dean brushed his hand over his face as he attempted to calm his frayed nerves. He didn't think he'd ever been this nervous before, not even when the hellhounds were coming for him. This was his Sammy afterall. This was the night he found out if he got to keep his kid brother with him or if he had to watch as he was taken from him yet again. This was the night that would tell him how much longer he had to live because there was no way he would live without Sam. No way in hell. His tired, green eyes fell on Sam's lax face once more and he smiled sadly.

"I'm sorry for what you had to go through Sammy. I'm sorry for the deal Mom made to save Dad. Well…I'm sorry and I'm not. I don't think we would have been as close if we didn't have this life and I can't imagine you being more like an aquaintance than a brother to me. You're more than just my brother…you're my best friend. God Sam…you have to have held on…I…I can't lose you again. Twice is enough. If anyone is strong enough though little brother…it's you," Dean said softly, his eyes never leaving Sam's face.

A shuffling sound brought Dean's attention to the open door of the safe room and he nodded minutely when he spied Bobby standing there, a nervous look on his face.

"Sorry Dean…uh…I think we better get Sam upstairs now. It's almost time and the angels are already here," Bobby said apologetically as he moved into the room.

"Yeah…okay Bobby," Dean replied.

He stood then reached down to grab onto Sam's arm. Bobby moved to the other side of the table and the two men pulled the limp body up from where it lay. Dean leaned over and guided Sam over his shoulder then straightened, grunting at the dead weight. Bobby steadied and supported him with a hand to his lower back then followed Dean as he carried his brother from the room.

Bobby followed along behind Dean as they made their way up the stairs from the basement. He kept his eyes on the back of Dean's head in an attempt to spare himself the pain of seeing Sam's lifeless body draped over his brother's shoulder. This was his family and he knew without a doubt that if Sam came back only to be killed by the angels, he would lose not one, but two sons. Bobby could see it in Dean's eyes. If Sam was taken from him again, he would follow not long after. There would be nothing he or Castiel could do to change that. Sam was Dean's life, his purpose, his everything. Without his little brother, Bobby knew Dean didn't feel there was any reason for him to stick around.

"Damn friggin' Winchesters…gonna be the death of me," Bobby mumbled under his breath, a large lump forming in his throat at the thought of possibly losing both 'his' boys today.

"What was that Bobby?" Dean's hoarse voice called from the landing at the top of the stairs.

"Nothin'…not important," Bobby answered back as he stepped onto the landing behind Dean.

Dean nodded and pushed through the open doorway and headed for the livingroom with his precious burden. Bobby shut the basement door behind himself and followed his fellow hunter. He helped Dean gently lay Sam on the sofa, the tall hunter's legs sticking out over the armrest of the too short piece of furniture. Bobby finally took a look at the youngest hunter, marveling at how pristine he looked. He had been dead for four months, but merely looked like he was sleeping. Although his skin was a bit ashen, his cheeks carried a pink hue and his lips, though somewhat pale, remained soft and slightly parted.

Dean followed Bobby's gaze and smiled slightly. The clothes he had dressed Sam in after washing his body still looked fresh and unrumpled and the younger man's hair still held the sheen it had that fateful night four months ago. Dean reached down to straighten the hem of Sam's shirt before he looked up and finally acknowledged the others present in the room.

Uriel stood near the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared intently at the youngest in the room. Castiel was seated in the armchair across the room. His elbows rested on his knees and his chin was supported by his entwined fingers. He too had his gaze locked on Sam, his eyes moving to the antique cuckoo clock momentarily before resuming their stare.

"So…I suppose you can't tell me if he made it or not, huh?" Dean queried anxiously as his eyes drifted from one angel to the other.

"I'm sorry Dean…we won't know until he wakes up," Castiel said, his light eyes moving from Sam's still form to the older brother.

"Yeah…figured as much," Dean muttered as he pulled a chair up to sit next to Sam's shoulder.

"So…how soon after he wakes up will it be before the demons come at us," Bobby asked in his gruff voice.

"If Sam gave in, it could be anytime. They won't attack…they won't need to. Sam has to freely give himself over to them," Uriel answered deeply.

"And if he didn't give in?" Dean queried.

"Well, they'll probably keep their distance as long as they know we are here," Castiel said, nodding his head toward Uriel.

"So we'll have some time before all hell breaks loose?" Bobby questioned.

"Yes…a little. They don't know that Sam will still have his abilities so they may try something soon…" Uriel started.

"Sam won't lose the abilities? They didn't come from Azazel's blood?" Dean asked.

"Azazel's blood merely awakened them. Sam would be psychic with or without the blood. They may have been much weaker, but he still would have had them. I'm sure you had that figured out though?" Uriel answered.

"Well, I...we...Bobby and me wondered about it. But, we also thought that the demons would know if the powers came from the demon blood or not. Are you saying they think his powers are not his own?"

"Azazel made it clear to his fellow demons that he gave the powers to the special children. He lied to them. They have no idea that Sam's powers were his before he was visited in his nursery," Castiel answered.

Dean opened his mouth to ask yet another question, but the sudden chiming of the clock stopped all sound completely. Four sets of eyes stared at the clock and when the final chime rang, those eyes moved to rest on the youngest Winchester. When after a few minutes had passed and Sam had yet to move, Dean looked to Castiel, panic in his eyes.

"Why isn't he waking up? What the hell's going on?" he cried with alarm.

A soft moan from the sofa was his answer and he whipped his head around to see Sam slowly rolling his head from side to side. Dean slid off of his chair and kneeled next to Sam, taking the slowly waking man's hand in his. Bobby moved beside Dean and stared down in anticipation as Sam's eyes began to flutter open. Suddenly Sam arched up off the sofa as he gasped for air, his eyes open and staring up in fear. Dean squeezed his hand and the panicked man jerked his head in the older man's direction. Although his eyes stared at Dean, there was no recognition in them.

Sam hastily pulled his hand away, whimpering as he scrambled backwards over the arm of the sofa and fell heavily to the wooden floor. Dean rushed after him, but at his slight touch Sam cried out and crawled away before curling up tight in the corner of the room, his body rocking back and forth as he pulled his knees closer to his chest. Dean moved slowly to him and Sam pressed himself further into the corner.

"No…please. No more…please don't touch me anymore…" Sam whispered pleadingly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Sammy…it's me kiddo. It's Dean," Dean said comfortingly, hoping to calm his freaked out brother.

"Please…it hurts…please…no more…"

"Sam…it's over with. Nobody's gonna hurt you anymore," Dean promised as he reached out and tenderly touched Sam's arm.

Sam's eyes swept up to Dean's face and they widened as he recognized the man before him. The tears he'd held at bay began to cascade down his cheeks and he began to whimper pathetically.

"It's okay Sam…you're home…you're safe…"

"Nononono…not him. Anyone but him. Use Dad, Mom…Jess. Just not him. Please…not Dean. Oh God…please don't wear his face," Sam pled as he held his hand out, palm forward in a gesture of fear.

"No Sammy…it's me. It's really me…" Dean cried.

"No…leave me alone. You're not him…you're not him!" Sam screamed then suddenly, horrifyingly began to slam the back of his head against the wall.

Dean lunged forward with a startled cry and grabbed Sam around his shoulders then pulled him away from the wall. Sam cried out and clawed at Dean, trying to escape the arms that held him tight.

"Please…no more…not Dean…not Dean," Sam pled, his struggles weakening as Dean continued to hold him.

"Shhhh…it's me Sammy…it's me…"

Bobby moved behind Dean, his eyes bright as he stared down at the heartbreaking scene. He let out a deep sigh as Sam seemed to relax against his brother. Dean eased his hold and gave Sam the chance he needed. The younger man pushed Dean backward, the older brother falling back on his butt as he reached out to try and grab Sam's arm. Sam escaped his grasp and stumbled across the room toward the door, evading Bobby's reach along the way.

"Sammy! Stop…you're not in hell anymore! Please Sam…stop!" Dean cried as he scrambled from the floor.

Sam stumbled forward, stopping abruptly when he ran headlong into the formidable angel named Uriel. His eyes widened in fear and he shrank back from the angel.

"Stay away! Don't touch me!" Sam screamed as he backed away.

Suddenly, Sam was grabbed from behind and turned around. His eyes found Dean's and he cried out again in anguish. A hand reached in from beside Sam and softly touched him on the forehead. Sam's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed into Dean's arms. Bobby rushed forward and helped Dean carry the unconscious man to the sofa and together they carefully laid him down. Dean pulled a blanket over his brother and brushed a shaky hand over his face. He turned to Castiel, his eyes wet with tears.

"Is he…he's not…?" Dean stammered fearfully.

"He's fine Dean. He may have a headache when he wakes, but he's fine," the angel said softly.

Dean collapsed onto the edge of the sofa and tried to steady his erratic breathing. "Does that mean that he made it? Did Sam hold on for forty years?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes Dean. Sam is free from the demon blood."

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So? Comments make me happy!

Cindy.