So, Sam's awake and free from hell, but he doesn't quite know that yet. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Cindy.
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Dean sat on the floor with his back resting against the front of the sofa. His knees were drawn up and he had his arms draped lightly over them, his hands dangling limply. His chin rested on his chest and his eyes were closed. The man however was not asleep. He kept replaying the scene of Sam's awakening through his mind. The terror in Sam's eyes when he recognized his brother. Sam thought Dean was Alastair, torturing him using his older brother's face. And what Sam had said. The dirty fucking demon bastard must have used everyone Sam loved to torment him. In his mind Dean kept hearing the sound of Sam's head hitting the wall over and over and it make him physically ill.
Dean wondered why just this one time things couldn't work out for them. Why couldn't Sam have woken up and been happy to see him. But no, he had to bring his memories with him and what he had endured had most likely scarred him for life. Dean wondered fearfully if he would ever get his Sammy back. He wanted his pain in the ass, drive him up the frickin' wall little brother whom he loved more than life itself back and he wanted him back now. Rage surged through the tired hunter at the demon responsible for most of Sam's torment. Alastair was going down and he was going down hard.
"You might want to leave Alastair for Sam. I think he may want to be the one to bring the demon down," Castiel's soft voice whispered, breaking Dean from his tortured thoughts.
Dean slowly lifted his head and peered at the angel before turning to look over his left shoulder at his sleeping brother's face. Sam appeared peaceful and Dean smiled slightly at the soft sounds coming from the younger man's lips. Dean turned back to Castiel and sighed softly.
"So…what did you do to him? Why'd you knock him out?" Dean asked, his voice weak with exhaustion.
"Sam needed to calm down. If he had gotten out that door, in the state he was in, he would have been easy pickings for the demons," the angel answered.
Dean nodded his understanding and glanced back at Sam.
"How long will he be out?"
"This is technically the first sleep he's had in four months. Being dead isn't the same and in hell he wasn't allowed any rest. I wouldn't expect him to wake for quite some time," Castiel replied. "You should get some sleep yourself Dean."
"I need to be near him. Need to be here in case he wakes up," Dean said softly.
"And what happens if he freaks again Dean? It may be better if I sit with him," Bobby's gruff voice sounded from the bottom of the staircase.
"Bobby…you're just as beat as me…" Dean started.
"You both should sleep. I will watch over Sam. If he wakes I'll be able to control him if he…what is it you say? If he freaks?" Castiel said.
"I can't leave him."
"Then we'll take him upstairs to the spare room and you can sleep in the other bed," Bobby suggested.
"Don't think the both of us could lift him right now, Bobby."
Castiel moved across the room and easily lifted Sam from the sofa, cradling the sleeping young man to his chest. He glanced at Dean and Bobby before heading for the stairs. The two hunters followed and soon the angel had Sam situated on one bed. He took a seat on a chair near the door and watched as Dean pulled a blanket over his brother before collapsing on his own bed in a heap. It took only moments before Dean's soft snores filled the room. Castiel glanced up at Bobby as the older hunter stood in the doorway gazing at the brothers.
"I'll keep an eye on them Bobby. Go get some sleep," Castiel said softly.
"Yeah…come get me if anything happens," Bobby replied.
The angel nodded and watched Bobby turn and head across the hall to his room. Castiel settled in for the long night, actually morning, of watching over his charges. His gaze settled on the youngest Winchester and he was filled with amazement at what the young man had accomplished. Forty years in hell suffering untold tortures all for the sake of mankind. The angel knew it was his brother whom he held on for. These boys were a different breed. They were made from something more than most others. They were what the world needed. Warriors against evil, united by blood and destiny.
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Dean awoke hours later, feeling better than he had in months. He had slept nightmare free and he wondered if the angel whom still watched over he and Sam had something to do with that. Castiel smiled knowingly when Dean met his gaze and Dean nodded before turning his attention to Sam. Sam was still in deep sleep, but had moved from his back and was now curled on his side with one hand cradled under his cheek. Dean was amazed at how young and innocent his kid brother appeared in sleep, even after everything he had been through. It made Dean's heart ache as he looked upon him. It brought back so many memories and he smiled as he envisioned a five year old Sam sleeping, long lashes brushing flushed cheeks. Dean's eyes fell to the floor and he noticed Sam's shoes and socks had been removed and were neatly setting on the floor at the foot of his bed.
Dean smiled slightly, silently thanking Castiel for picking up where his exhausted mind and body had left off. He hadn't even thought of removing Sam's shoes when they laid him on the bed, his own sluggish mind not having been able to think past getting Sam to bed before allowing himself to tumble into his own bed and get some much needed slumber. Dean swung his legs over the edge of his bed and noticed then that his own shoes and socks had been removed. He stood and took the two steps to Sam's bed and perched himself on the edge.
Dean's hand automatically reached for Sam's forehead, his fingers searching for any elevation in temperature. The younger man's head was cool and dry and Dean breathed a quick sigh of relief. He pulled his hand away and continued to sit and watch Sam sleep, relishing in the soft sounds that he made. For so long, he had been perfectly still and silent so to see the minute twitches and hear the breaths whisper from between his lips was heaven to Dean. Sam was alive. He had survived the torture and had come back, demon blood gone. Now if Dean could only be certain his mind remained intact.
Dean shook his head knowing full well how messed up his little brother was going to be. The things that had happened to him at the hands of Alastair. Nobody could get through that emotionally intact. And Dean didn't even know what had been done after the visions had stopped. One thing was for certain though. The demon had used the people Sam loved the most as part of its torture. Dean shuddered as he wondered what Alastair had done to Sam while wearing John's face. His mind wandered to the last vision he had witnessed, but this time it was John who did those ungodly things to the brother he loved so dearly. Dean barely had time to drop to his knees and grab the wastepaper basket before the meager contents of his stomach came spilling out over his dry lips.
Dean continued to heave as the image of his father abusing Sam refused to leave his tormented mind. Suddenly, a soft touch to his shoulder ended the vile vision and Dean's retching ceased. He dropped to his butt on the floor and he pulled in large gulps of air. He lifted a shaky hand up and wiped the back over his mouth. He prayed that it was just his overactive imagination, but realized with thick dread that he nor Sam could ever be that lucky. Dean glanced up at the concerned face of his angel protector. Castiel smiled slightly as he removed his hand from Dean's shoulder.
"Sam will heal, Dean. It will take time, but with your support, he will heal," Castiel said softly as he helped the stricken hunter from the floor and back to his bed..
Dean sat heavily on the edge of his bed and his gaze soon fell back onto his brother. Without removing his eyes from Sam's face, he began to speak in a weak, fear filled voice.
"Do you know what Alastair did to Sam? What he did wearing…wearing Dad's face?"
"When I touched Sam, I saw everything that was done to him," Castiel answered sadly.
"Did Alastair…did he…uh…did he rape Sam using my father's face?" Dean asked, scared to death to know the truth.
"Dean…it is not my place to tell you what you want to know. Sam will tell you when he is ready. Only he can decide what and when he tells you. Please don't torture yourself. It's done and over with and you need to be strong if you're going to help Sam," the angel answered, frowning at the despair he saw on Dean's face.
"That pretty much gives me my answer. Oh God…how am I going to get him through that?" Dean cried, silent tears trailing down his cheeks.
"Be strong for him. Don't judge…"
"What!? Don't judge? Do you honestly think I would judge Sammy for what happened to him? That I would somehow blame him? You're crazy if you think that Cas!" Dean fumed.
"I didn't say that Dean. Sometimes though, when you're angry or upset, you say things that could be taken in the wrong way. Or even your anger itself could be misconstrued by Sam's traumatized mind. He could take it as you being angry at him. Just…choose your words very carefully and keep your temper in check."
"Yeah…I guess you're right. He needs the toned down, nurturing Dean. So…I need to ignore every urge that I'm having to rip something apart with my bare hands. Well crap…I can see many a chick flick moment on the horizon," Dean said with a small chuckle.
The sudden aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the room and Dean's stomach grumbled just as the hunter's mouth began to water. He hoped Bobby would bring him a plate soon because he was suddenly aware of how hungry he was. He turned his eyes to the door, hoping to see Bobby come through it, tray in hand. When the opening remained empty, he frowned with disappointment.
"Go eat Dean. You have to be starving," Castiel said.
"Can't leave Sam. I'll just wait for Bobby," Dean answered.
"I'll watch over Sam. He'll probably be out for at least a few more hours," the angel offered.
Dean looked from Sam to the angel and back again. "I don't know Cas. I don't feel right leaving, even if it is just downstairs."
"Dean, you need a break. I'll be here. I won't let anything happen to Sam. I promise."
Dean kept his eyes on Sam for a moment then nodded slightly. "Yeah…okay, but not for very long. You holler if he starts to wake up," he instructed.
"I will. Now go. Sam'll be fine."
Dean stood and stepped to Sam's bed. He reached down and touched Sam's forehead again before smiling softly and leaving the room. He knew Sam was in good hands, so with that thought in mind, he descended the stairs and moved toward the kitchen and the wonderful smells that wafted from it.
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Dean entered the kitchen and smiled warmly at the sight of Bobby standing over the stove, spatula in hand. His mind wandered to many a morning of coming in to the same sight. As gruff and indifferent as Bobby wished to appear, he could never cover how he truly felt about the Winchesters. Dean would never call him on it though. He was happy to let Bobby think he was tough and he kept the warm feeling that the sight of Bobby invoked in him to himself. Dean moved to the coffee maker and grabbed a mug from the counter then filled the mug to the rim. Bobby turned at the noise and motioned for Dean to sit. Dean complied and took a seat at the table.
"Breakfast's almost ready. Hope you're hungry," Bobby said, turning back to the stove.
"Starving actually," Dean replied.
"How's Sam?" Bobby asked as he moved eggs from the skillet to a plate.
"Still sleeping. He's out for the count," Dean answered.
"It's no wonder. I'm actually surprised to see you down here. I thought you'd be glued to the kid," Bobby said.
The man set the plate in front of Dean then opened the oven and pulled out a sheet of biscuits and a plate of bacon. He set them on the table and returned to the oven to remove a dish filled with hashbrowns. He grabbed his own plate of eggs from the counter and sat across from Dean. Dean poured himself and Bobby each a glass of orange juice then started to fill his plate with the other offerings Bobby had prepared.
"So…what are you doing down here? You ain't afraid of Sam waking up and seeing you are you?" Bobby queried.
"No…well…yeah, a little. Actually Cas sent me down. Said I needed to eat. He's watching Sammy for me," Dean answered, pausing in his food preparation while his eyes gazed up worriedly at the ceiling.
"Sam'll be fine with Castiel, Dean. He's right, you need to eat," Bobby said as he filled his own plate.
"I'm eating…I'm eating…" Dean mumbled as he shoved a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.
The hunters ate in silence, both men's thoughts clearly on the young man who slept above them. Once their plates were cleaned, they both rose and cleared the table then moved to the sink. Bobby dried the dishes as Dean handed them to him and the men discussed anything that didn't have to do with Sam and his time in hell. Dean had just finished washing the last plate and was handing it to Bobby when a terrified scream tore through the house, followed by a loud crash. Dean dropped the plate, the dish shattering in the sink as he whipped his head toward the livingroom where the stairs leading upstairs were.
"Sammy!" he cried as he sped out of the kitchen, Bobby hot on his heels.
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Um, really how long did you think I could go without leaving a cliffy? This is me we're talking about! LOL Please review!
Cindy.