The first time Sam woke was three days after his surgery. As soon as he became aware of something stuck into his throat he panicked. His eyes widened and the heart monitor beside his bed started picking up the pace. His weak hands scrabbled clumsily to get rid of the plastic obtrusion.

It took Dean longer than he wanted to admit to calm his baby brother down but even if his influence on Sam grew weaker it hasn't disappeared completely and finally Sam did settle down, stopped struggling and just looked up at Dean with his big, soulful, teary eyes.

Dean took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly and Sam's eyes slipped back closed before the doctor came to check on him.

The second time happened the next day and they were able to take the tube out of his throat and Sam winced at the pain in his throat afterwards, crunching gratefully at the ice chips his nurse brought.

Dean was just glad to see the offending thing go. His huge brother looked fragile enough without it, in this bed.

Sam fell asleep again soon after, still wiped out but at least not dying anymore.

The third time was the charm, as they say.

Bobby was gone to get some sleep. They both spent the majority of their time right there, in Sam's room on the ICU ward, from which he would be, hopefully, transferred soon to a regular one. Bobby came in sometime during the afternoon hours but he slept in the motel room they had rented.

Dean stayed mostly at the hospital. He did sometimes go out to bring food or take a shower and change his clothes but most of the time no force could make him leave the wretched plastic chair in Sam's room. He ate there, slept there, worked there and most importantly thought, mostly about Sam and their relationship, while the steady beeping soothed his nerves. Usually Dean tried not to ponder on those things but Sam in a hospital bed always had that effect on him - it brought his inner girl to the surface as he fretted about every damn piece of equipment Sammy was hooked to.

Sam woke up sometime around 7am, before Bobby came. Dean was dozing in his chair when he heard a grunt and rustling of covers. He was right beside Sam in the same second.

Sam opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was a familiar face staring down at him. He jerked, startled, and hurried to put some distance between himself and the apparition because there were two explanation as to why he was seeing Dean. One was that his brother was here and the second – that it was Lucifer in disguise.

Sam went with the second one. His heart picked up pace as he struggled to get away from the fallen archangel. Before he could get far he felt searing pain shooting through his chest. He gasped, his face twisting in agony, but still he refused to give up, he wouldn't, he couldn't-!

Dean's heart twisted painfully when Sam realized who he was and began to frantically try and escape him with no regard whatsoever to his own well-being. The heart monitor began beeping like crazy and he realized that Sam was afraid of him. He wished he could just go away and not have to go through this because this, this was torture. But he had a responsibility to fulfill, he was a big brother (and he's been shirking his duties for too long now; no matter what Sam did or didn't do he was family, he was the center of Dean's damned world 'cause nothing mattered without him, even if it was only Dean that felt that way), so he steeled his emotions and reached to catch Sam's flailing limbs and pin them to the bed, taking care to not press to hard on the left hand.

The younger Winchester put up a fight but in the end he was just too tired and weak to really be a challenge. Finally his body slumped but his aching muscles remained tense and his chest still rattled with every shallow breath.

"Sammy-" Dean started but Sam interrupted him with

"Don't you dare." he hissed with fury and the older Winchester flinched. "Only Dean gets to call me that!"

Dean let go at once, brows furrowed in confusion. What?

"What?" he said aloud. "What the hell are you talking about, Sam? It's me."

"No," Sam panted with a defiant look on his face. "No, I won't fall for this! I won't ever say yes to you, you- son'fabitch, no matter who you pretend to be!"

Dean recoiled, understanding making his eyes sting and heart ache, even as worry swept through him at Sam's wheezing. The worry won out; he needed to calm Sam down before he hurt himself more. "Easy, Sam, I'm not Lucifer, okay?" he placated. "You're not asleep right now, you're in a hospital and you're sick as a dog! Try not to make yourself pass out, they just got the tube out of your throat and your lung's still healing."

Sam blinked, breathing heavily. That… somehow didn't seem to be a thing Lucifer would say. It seemed more like something Dean would say - a couple years ago. Last time he'd seen his big brother Dean hadn't seemed inclined to show worry for Sam. Confusion swept through the young hunter as he slowly calmed down; the low hum of Dean's reassuring voice always had that effect on him.

"Dean?" he asked tentatively.

"Yeah, Sam, it's me. You okay?"

Again with the concern. "Yeah, m'fine." Sam said distractedly, staring at his brother's face.

"Bullshit. You're way too pale to be okay. Your lungs don't hurt? Cheekbone?" Dean pressed.

"Uh… kinda? But…" Sam's face scrunched as he tried to remember what's happened to him while the demons had him. "They didn't break my ribs or anything. Why're my lungs hurtin'?"

"They did, actually. Three on the right side. They didn't pierce anything but your lung was contused, got necrotic, had to be removed." Dean explained, his hands automatically curving into fists as he thought of what had been done to Sam; what he almost left Sam to suffer until… maybe even death. And the fact that Sam didn't even know his ribs were broken, like it didn't even register...

"What, my whole lung?!" Sam exclaimed in horror, wincing.

"No! No, just a fragment. And stop screaming, you're not doing your face or that lung any favors. A fractured cheekbone, before you ask."

"Huh…" Sam took it all in. "Anything else?" he asked after a while.

Dean recounted all the injuries Sam had sustained during his time in capture. An uncomfortable silence reigned afterwards as Sam processed what Dean told him and Dean looked at his brother, taking in his haggard face again and feeling guilty.

"This sucks." Sam said finally. "I'll be useless for months, we don't have time for that."

"Well there's no way around that, you gotta recover." Dean said firmly. Sam looked at him askance.

"What if there was?" he said quietly. "Lucifer told me he'd bring me back if I tried to kill myself to leave him wakened without his true vessel. He did. I'm sure he could do it again if he had to."

Dean's jaw hit the floor. "Whoa, back up! What do you mean he did! You tried to-? Tell me you didn't, Sam." he pleaded desperately. Suddenly the fear from before Sam woke came right back, choking him.

Sam waved his unbroken hand dismissively. "I had to try in case he was bluffing and I could help fixing this mess that I made. It didn't stick anyway so nothing to talk about. Except now we could maybe make it work in our favor." he said pensively and Dean's heart splintered painfully.

He thought he was feeling awfully guilty for leaving his brother alone with a horde of demons to get tortured? This was so much worse. Apparently his little brother had wanted to give them an edge over the Devil and tried to off himself to atone. Dean got atonement but there were so many better ways to do that, especially since, as far as he knew, Sam didn't really want to die. And now, this cold calculation, it was almost too much for Dean to bare. Where was that hopeful little brother he remembered? How did it happen that he turned into this man, who would throw his life away in a heartbeat if he thought it would help someone. If he thought it would help Dean.

Through Dean's silence Sam went on musing. "I could try morphine, they have it lots in here."

"You could shut up, Sam. You won't be trying anything." Dean tried for stern but his voice came out wavering and he didn't even care. Anything to get Sam to stop thinking of killing himself.

"Why?" Sam challenged, eyes narrowing. "We really don't have time for me to get back to functional the normal way and he's given me the perfect solution on a silver platter!"

"Yeah, no. What if he doesn't bring you back?" Dean tried, desperately looking for a way to stop this mad idea before Sam took it too far.

"He will-"

"What if he doesn't do it right away? If he lets you stay dead for a while, what then? What is something happens? No way, you're not doing this." The words killing yourself wouldn't get through his throat.

"What ain't he doing?" Bobby's voice came from the door. They didn't even notice him coming in as they argued.

"Bobby," Sam said immediately. "I have a way of recovering fast and Dean won't let me use it."

"That's a huge ass understatement." Dean snorted angrily. "What he means, Bobby, is that he wants to… overdose on something to let Lucifer bring him back completely healed. That's his grand, stupid plan."

Bobby's brow furrowed. "Sam, this ain't such a good idea. How can you know he'll-"

"Because he's done it before." Sam cut him off. "I'm sure he'll bring me back fine."

"Or he'll take advantage of the fact that you're putting yourself in his mercy." Bobby said, voice gone suddenly gruff. "No, son. We won't take risks like this. You're staying here and then we're going back to Sioux Falls. You'll take a break, do some research, we won't be wasting any time, you can be sure of that."

Dean sent their father figure a grateful look. "See?" he turned to Sam, who was sitting, sullen and defeated, in his bed. "None of that shit. I don't want to hear about it anymore." he said decisively.

Sam sighed in acquiescence and moved his gaze from the fingers of his unbroken hand which were twisting the sheet he was lying under, to Dean's eyes, staring at him penetratingly, but said nothing, leaning back against his pillows with a wince and closing his eyes, clearly tired. Dean closed his eyes as relief swept through him but he resolved to watch his brother closely in case he tried to do something stupid after all. He sagged in his chair, suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline that coursed through his veins at the thought of Sam hurt faded.

"Go to sleep, son." Bobby said quietly, as to not disturb Sam. "I'll watch him."

Dean relaxed, secure in the knowledge and slept.