"Watch his head!" Dean called from the tub. Water sloshed and Cas told him to stay down with just a look. Down, but not silent. "Watch what you're doing…..Benny…hold his head….Cas…don't do that…guys…..watch him, he kicks."

Sam slapped the hands that reached for his arms, pulling his heels close to his ass to avoid the hands grabbing at his ankles. He wanted to stay where he was but was too dizzy to stop the two men from picking him up and carrying him back to his bed if that was their intent and no amount of fighting would prevent them from doing so. Hell, Cas wouldn't even need Benny's help.

"Is he ok? Hey….." Dean struggled to sit up but the tub was slippery, his arms were heavy from the cool water and he was too weak to do more than lay his chin on the tubside. "Sam?"

"Lemme 'lone." he mumbled, now lying flat on his back, heels on the floor. The air around him literally buzzed and though he could hear Benny and Cas talking, he couldn't distinguish a single word either said. The fog surrounding him was too heavy and too thick to penetrate and his body, after nearly a week of malnutrition, a full day without food and two nights of proper rest, succumbed.

"Dean…enough." Cas ordered. "He's fine…you're just too heavy for him to carry."

Dean frowned, wanting to ask what the hell that meant. Sam lying on the bathroom floor did not in any universe translate to, 'he's fine'. But, ooooh, he didn't feel good and concentrating on what was going on around him made his head hurt and Benny was there…..ok, he and Sam didn't get along, but Benny would never do anything to hurt Sam unless threatened and Sam was not threatening anyone. Dean could trust Benny to make sure Sam was ok. Which was good, 'cause he was having a very difficult time holding back the waves that rippled the air around him and he gave in, going limp, unnoticed by everyone around him.

"Come on big guy, sit up." Benny hauled on one arm but when Sam didn't rise with the pull, Cas grabbed his other arm and pulled with Benny. "Just sit…..stay still…."

A cold cloth was laid across the back of his neck and another in his hand and guided to his face. They gave him a couple minutes before they ignored his protest, lifted to him to his feet and took him back to bed where he lay as he was dropped.

"Sit there and watch him." Benny ordered, turning around to return to the bathroom. He didn't put it past Dean to get himself out of the tub to try and get to Sam. Knew for a fact the dumb ass would try if he were left alone longer than a minute. "And you Sam, stay down."

"Alright." Cas agreed, then. "Watch him do what?"

"Just keep him in that bed Cas." Benny huffed in exasperation. "Give him a bit, then do whatever you have to, to get him to eat." Cas nodded, sat and stared, unblinking at Sam. Benny shook his head and entered the bathroom. Dean didn't look up, slumped awkwardly in the tub, chin to shoulder, eyes closed. Huh, Benny hadn't expected that.

"I'm good Cas." Sam said. "But, uh, yeah, I think I'll lay here for a bit."

"Don't make anything easy, do you?" Benny knelt on his knees, scissors in hand and reached over the side of the tub to cut the bandage from Dean's foot. The skin surrounding the stitches were red and puffy, normal for stitches set hours ago. Dean didn't flinch when Benny rubbed a thumb over either wound and his toes responded to the bottom of his foot being tickled. Satisfied Cas had healed the foot, Benny carefully let it rest in the water. He added more cool water then took a seat on the toilet while he waited for Dean to rouse.

Twenty minutes passed. Benny wheedled Dean into holding the thermometer long enough to get a reading; he added cold water. He peeked out into the room; Sam lay on his back in bed and Cas sat, staring, not blinking, watching him. Another twenty minutes, another temperature reading, colder water; another twenty, another reading and Benny went to get Sam. It'd been an hour and Dean's fever held steady at 102.8.

"He hasn't moved." Cas announced. Benny just shook his head. The angel had been with them for hours now, stating he was there to help take care of Dean but really, he was more hindrance then help because he didn't know how to do that.

"Thanks Cas, you did good." Benny's tone was so sarcastic, even Cas picked up on it. An hour, and Cas hadn't even attempted to get Sam to eat anything.

"You are annoyed with me." he stated. "First Sam, now you. What have I done?"

"Why are you here?" Benny countered.

"You told me to be."

"I did what? No I didn't. When?"

"At the hospital, you told me Sam was in no condition to take care of Dean on his own." Cas spread his arms wide. "So, here I am."

"Oh. Ok, yeah, great." he stepped around Cas to shake Sam awake. It was Sam's decision whether to give Dean the medicine from the blue bottle and Benny, a betting man, bet that his fever would soon top 103.

"I'm here to help."

"You sure you don't have somewhere you need to pop off to?"

"What are you doing? You said to leave….." Cas began then puffed up in indignation when he was ignored.

"What?" Sam slurred, slapping irritably at the hand shaking his shoulder. "Stop it."

"Need you to wake up."

"No."

"Sam, Dean's worse."

Magic words. Benny had expected Sam to come around at the mention of Dean's name but by no means did he expect Sam to lunge off the bed and land on his feet in the bathroom next to the tub. Benny hung back in the doorway, Sam on his knees, hanging over the tub as he repeatedly called Dean's name, giving him several gentle shakes that increased to harder, more violent shakes as Sam's desperation and fear grew frantic and Dean remained unresponsive.

"Is his fever over 103?" Sam choked out, t-shirt now soaked as he gathered both his strength and Dean to his chest in preparation to lift him from the tub.

"It's been 102.8 for the last hour, took it three times." Benny replied. "Guessing the water…I mean, I guess it hasn't gone any higher due to the cool water."

"Can't leave him in the tub all night."

"No." Benny agreed. Sam shouldn't be lifting anything of weight let alone the solid-mass-of-muscle that was his brother but he'd wasn't about to voice that concern out loud. Best to help Sam lift Dean and gain his feet before he dove headfirst into the tub. "Let me get his feet….."

"I've got him." Sam bit out tersely, shoulder muscles bunched, biceps straining as he supported Dean's weight.

"Yeah? Who's got you?"

The moment he tried to lift Dean on own, the tiled wall next to his head swirled and dipped and spun out of control. It was either accept Benny's help or pass out – again. Dammit, fucking vampire just had to be right. Sam relented with a nod moving to let Benny next to the tub and together they lifted Dean from the tub, where, dripping wet, they handed him off to Cas, who stood by with a blanket in his hands.

"He needs to be warm and dry." Cas said in response to their identical looks of astonishment.

"How do you know that?" Benny asked, helping Cas keep Dean on his feet while Sam patted and rubbed him dry with the blanket.

"I read a book."

"When?"

"While I watched Sam."

"Why would you do that?" Sam asked, paying half attention to the looks and conversation between the two.

"So I know how to help." Cas easily held Dean when Benny lifted his feet and together they carried him back to bed.

"What?" Sam asked, looking up. He frowned, then shrugged it off, turning his attention back to his brother. Foot re-bandaged, clean t-shirt on, drops administered to his eyes, water offered and rejected, Sam tucked his brother under the blankets. Boxer briefs were made of cotton, they would dry quickly.

"Before you have a fit of vapors…" Benny began, prepared for full-on battle with Sam who had taken a seat in the chair next to Dean's bed. "You need to…."

"Say what?"

"Vapors. Commonly known as female hysteria." Cas supplied helpfully. "Once spelled v-a-p-o-r, it is now more commonly spelled v-a-p-o-u-r….."

"Cas! Enough." Sam lowered his head into his hands. "I'm not prone to hysteria."

"Hissy fits." Cas nodded and Sam glared up at him through his fingers. "Dean said so."

"Okay, fine. Then apoplexy….." Benny began again.

"What century are you from?" Sam looked over when Dean stirred, hands digging free from beneath the blankets. "No, no Dean…..don't. Hey, don't do that." a hand on Dean's shin stopped him from kicking fitfully at the blankets. "You're ok." he nailed Benny with a look. "Not having a stroke either."

"Well, not from any injury to your head." Benny agreed.

"Hot." Dean mumbled, tongue darting out to lick at his lips. "Wet….hot."

"Yeah, get some sleep, okay?" Sam shushed him but Dean twisted his head about in agitation. "Want some water?" he accepted the glass Benny held out. "Dean? Hey…..here, yeah, that good? Enough? Okay?"

"Sam…..I'm only gonna say this once….you need to eat. Not a bite of a sandwich or a package of donuts. You were unconscious for days, woke up, walked out of the hospital and hiked through the woods. You slept on the forest ground, hiked most of the next day, carried him out of a hole in the ground, were up all night at the ER and spent most of today with your face so swollen all you were able to do was sleep."

Sam opened his mouth to argue, to say he was getting up to go eat but Benny raised his hand, palm outward to shut him up before he could utter a word.

"You're human Sam. You had a chance….I'd've left if you'd said get out but not now. Sam, you can't keep this up. The strength and energy needed to pick him up and carry him is killing you….what if you faint and Cas and I aren't here? Your head can't take another blow, not this soon…"

"I don't faint!" Sam protested, feelings hurt. He was tired of being picked on. "Get dizzy."

"Whatever…you're going to hurt yourself one of these times and if that happens, that leaves me and Cas to take care of Dean. Do you want that?"

"Don't even." Sam threatened.

"Yeah, ok great, you slept most of the day and it benefited you, now help yourself some more and eat. Cas will go get you whatever you want….."

"I will go and get you sustenance." with a shift in the air, Cas was gone.

"Sure." Sam pushed up from the chair and took staggering steps towards the kitchenette. "Cause there's no soup here." no way was he going to relinquish total care to Benny. If eating something, anything would shut the vampire up and stop his nattering-on about Sam eating, he'd eat.

Despite the coil of tension in his belly, he was hungry. He was hoping a decent meal and a hot shower would help clear his befuddled brain. There was so much he didn't understand. Like, Cas couldn't respond at will; couldn't come and stay around any other time, but now he wouldn't go away. Why was now different? Why now, since he'd tried to heal Dean and failed, couldn't modern medicine help him? And how the hell did Cas know that?

"When did you last give him the medicine?" he asked, reaching the counter and supporting his weight with both hands against the sink while he caught his breath. Damn, he was weak and light-headed.

"Two, closer to three hours ago." Benny replied. "He doesn't like it."

"We're gonna hafta give him the...other medicine."

"Looks that way, yeah."

"I don't understand." Sam rolled the can of soup in his hands. "I mean…..okay, yeah…Cas healed his foot, but why does that mean Dean won't respond to medical treatment? How did Cas know that? We know Cas can't heal the dead nor can he heal the way he used to, I get that…..but since when does his failure to heal prevent a doctor from doing so?"

"Sometimes, there are no answers Sam."

"Someone somewhere has them."

"Okay, but even Cas doesn't know who he answers to any more. He doesn't know how he knows the things he does…he just pops in and out with little to no memory of where he's been or what he's done. He can't even tell you who gave him the medicine, though he does seem to know what it is."

"He knew where to go and get it." Sam argued.

"Maybe he does know but for whatever reasons, he's not saying."

"He told me to expect side effects but didn't say what they were. He told me if Dean's fever went over 103 to give him the medicine in the blue bottle and if his fever didn't come down with an hour, death was imminent." Sam snorted, scowling at the can when it finally dawned on his energy-fried brain that the pull-tab ring he was searching for would never be found. "Shit."

"He's fighting through this pretty damn good on his own."

"If Cas hadn't come, hadn't tried to heal him, a doctor could have…"

"We don't know that. We don't know how he got hurt, or who, if anyone, hurt him." Benny said carefully as Sam winced. "Cas healed his foot Sam, I know you don't think that means much right now….but we get Dean through the next couple days, he's going to walk outta here, jump in the car and drive away….no therapy, no surgery, no pain, just some stitches."

"So, Cas can heal permanent injury but not related symptoms."

"Appears that way….you'll have to get used to it for it may never change."

Sam tossed the can and dug through a duffel bag. "I can't do this, can't go through this again….I can't."

"Can't do what?"

"This. The waiting. The hospital, the not knowing. Waiting to lose him, waiting to get him back, not knowing if I ever will. It gets harder every time and what makes it worse is I know there's always going to be another time, a next time."

"You think it's any easier for him?"

"I dunno, you tell me." Sam picked up the can of soup. "How long did it take him to find Cas and leave? How long did he leave me up here waiting, thinking he was…not knowing…..guessing….trying to get through losing him again…..while he ran around looking for Cas? How soon could he have left and didn't because…"

"That's not fair."

"How is that not fair?" Sam demanded angrily.

"He thought you…..thought if he wasn't around….he thought you'd be alright Sam."

"Yeah….you seem to think you know Dean oh-so-well." Sam lined the hand-crank can opener he'd retrieved from the duffel bag to the can of soup and began to crank. "Tell me, how the hell he thinks that? How he assumes I'll be ok if he's...not around. How he thinks all-is-right with my world if he's not in it?"

"I don't get your meaning." Benny said carefully.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've lost him?" Sam fumbled with the can opener, fought with the can but was unable to operate it properly. The can slipped from its teeth and hit the floor. Sam cursed, kicking it under the table. "How many times he's been taken away from me? Dad, Bobby, Samuel, Azazel, Meg, Lilith, the Trickster, Alastair, Lisa, Dick, hell even Jake. I turned my back on him and he stabbed me, causing Dean to make the deal which started it all, and yeah, I got him back, but Cas came with him and he was distant and then Ruby and Crowley and he lost Jo and Ellen, then Bobby and Frank and everything snowballed." he threw his arms wide to illustrate the magnitude of his loss and looked around, as if searching for something to do, eyes settling on a shopping bag on the dresser. He picked it up and carried it over to the counter where he unpacked it.

Benny watched him.

"The angels, Zachariah, Anna, and Uriel, even Cas, and …you, me." he unpacked the bag. "In one way or another, they've all…somehow…..come between us or separated us or been the reason we were apart." he gave up trying to open the package of bowls and tried the package of plastic utensils. "These last five years or so….it gets harder to let him go, to let him out of my sight….to have him taken away from me." with a pop, the bag in his hands exploded and plastic spoons and knives and forks flew in all directions. "Fuck."

"Sit." Benny pulled a chair out at the table and gave Sam a shove. He toppled into it, nearly tipping it over backwards and falling but he was able to right himself. Benny retrieved the can of soup, easily opened it, poured half into a bowl, popped it into the microwave and proceeded to collect the scattered plastic ware from the floor. "Any idea what Cas might bring you back to eat?"

"He doesn't understand what makes a meal." Sam's lips twitched. "You do know Styrofoam isn't supposed to go in a microwave, don't you?" he was unable to completely keep a hostile tone from his voice, he lowered his head as the bowl of soup was set in front of him. It wasn't that he was ungrateful…it was just…..dammit, it was Benny.

"I can read." Benny said, sensing Sam could use some time alone to regroup. "There's more soup in the can if you're still hungry…..I'm gonna go catch a nap. If you need me, just yell, I'll hear you."

Sam wasn't alone for long. A knock on the door had him pulling his gun and approaching the door with caution. He peered through the peep-hole then opened the door with an exasperated sigh.

"Really, Cas…..knocking on the door?"

"I had to walk back." he frowned. "Food." he swung the bag onto the counter. "How is Dean?"

"Fever's still 102.8." it sure did smell good, like warm, lemon-garlic chicken. "The, aah, medicine seems to help with the pain but…Cas…..can we talk?"

"Of course. What troubles you Sam?"

"I'm not gonna ask you to explain where you go or who calls you or why you can't always come or why you're able to stay now, none of that matters. I'm not even gonna ask why you can't help him or why healing his foot put him beyond a doctor's help. But Cas, if his friendship means anything to you…please, I'm begging you….this medicine…" he rolled the blue bottle in his fingers. "What's it going to do to him? Do you know? You have to have some answers…..just give me something."

Cas squared his shoulders and hands fisted by his sides, turned to confront Sam who swallowed hard, then gulped. Cas's unwavering blue-eyed gaze made him seek a place to sit his ass and his knees dumped him on the chair next to Dean's bed.

"I mean...his foot...it's the cause of all this...right? The injury you healed but... not the infection, not the symptoms..." he trailed off when Cas shook his head. "So, what the hell Cas? If his problem isn't the hole in his foot, then what is?"

Cas spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I don't know why my ability to heal has been…altered. There are still angels in heaven I can speak with but they cannot give me all the answers I seek. All they can do is listen to my problem, and if possible, provide a solution."

"So, they gave you this medicine and you trust who gave it to you?" Cas nodded and Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Tears welled and he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes in an attempt to stop them from spilling over. "Do have any idea what the side effects might be?"

"It will help him."

"Yeah, well, that's what you said about the other one and it didn't stop his fever from going up." Sam coughed. "Will you just help me, help him? Please? Just go find out from whoever what this medicine will do to him if I give it to him." the stricken look on Sam's face was enough to convince Cas perhaps an attempt to seek more answers was needed. "I need to know."

"Very well."

***000***

"Where's Cas?" Benny was just up from a half hour nap, yawning sleepily as he came through the door.

"He left." Sam sat the table, laptop open, picking on the rotisserie chicken and buttered rolls Cas had returned with. "Again."

"Is he coming back?"

"Yeah….went to see if he could get some answers about the medicine."

"So, you haven't given it to him yet?"

Sam shook his head. "Been looking to see if I can find any….I dunno, lore on heaven or angel medicine, but nothing. Possible side effects scare the shit outta me.

"Cas say what they might be?"

"He didn't know. I mean, how can they be any worse than the ones we were warned about from the medicine we're giving him now?"

"Not to mention the ones we weren't, excessive thirst, extreme dry eyes and I dunno, I gotta say…..he's so quiet, too quiet….you know?"

"Yeah." Sam massaged his eyebrows, swollen eye twitching in displeasure over the gesture. "He's been asleep since we got him outta the tub."

"You….look….a little better."

"Took a shower, changed…..I'm ok."

"His fever still holding at 102.8?"

Sam nodded.

"You think the milk's holding him?"

"Maybe." Sam shrugged. "Bath probably helped, I dunno….."

Dean heard the muted voices but they were distant. He thought perhaps he should care, should find out who the voices belonged to and from where they were coming but….he just didn't care. He was tired, oh-so-tired. Tired of being cold and alone and in the dark. Tired of being wet and thirsty and uncomfortable. Tired of listening to the rats and the sound of water he wanted but couldn't find. Tired of the fire that burned hot but didn't warm him and he couldn't move away from. Tired of the pain. Tired, just tired.

He hurt. He ached. He was sore. He muscles were weak and shaky and despite the fire, trembled from being cold. His head pounded and he was sure it would feel better if the stupid little shit in his skull would finally succeed in kicking its way out. But most of all, despite it all, on top of everything, over everything, was…his foot. Man, who would have thought one small part of one's body could cause so much pain and anguish? He couldn't even begin to categorize how it felt and made him feel and he began a silent chant in his pounding head: Don't wiggle toes. Don't curl toes. Don't flex toes. Don't spread toes. Do wish for no toes. Don't move ankle. Don't lift foot. Don't move foot. Don't touch foot with other foot. Curse the fact he'd been born with two feet.

How much time had passed? Where was he? What had happened? Why was he thirsty? Hadn't he had these thoughts before? Why did he eyes feel like they'd been sunburned? Was that even possible? Wow, he was thirsty. His throat was dry, swollen…parched. Wait! Water, he was in water. He wasn't swimming, he was floating…..the water was cold…..he could drink that…..no….dry now…..the well….it had gone dry. It was cold and damp down here…but dry, like his eyes, like his mouth, like his tongue, his throat…his skin…..He didn't recall moving or making any noise, but his head was lifted and his lips were nudged. Glass collided with his teeth and he tried to push it away with his tongue until his mouth was flooded, then his teeth clamped down to keep the flow of water coming.

"Hey, hey…take it easy, you can have as much as you want…no one's going to take it away from you….easy Dean…..okay…that's it."

"Sam…..he drinks a lot."

"Your point?"

"He's, aah, pissed once."

"Dehydrated." Sam offered without much hope of being believed. He didn't believe it himself.

"Or side effect….."

"He's not bleeding out."

"Do you want him to?"

"What the hell?!"

Benny held the thermometer out. "How's he doing?" with nearly a week's worth of scruff, it was impossible to tell if Dean's face was flushed with fever but his forehead and hands were hot to Sam's touch and his closed eye-lids remained dry and puffy. Sam shrugged, taking the thermometer. Ideally, he should have taken his brothers temperature before giving him water but what the hell….. Sam had little doubt his fever would be under 103, his skin was hot and dry, no chills, no sweating…

"Sam?"

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I know." Dean obediently accepted the thermometer, held it under his tongue and when it was removed, fussed until he was given more water. "103.2." he swallowed hard. "Fuck."

No label of instructions appeared when Sam cracked the seal on the blue bottle. The contents were liquid, the top an eye-dropper. Sam pinched the rubber top, filled the slim tube and paused. How was he supposed to administer the medicine? It was a fucking eye-dropper! So where? Mouth? Eyes? Nose? An hour. Cas had said one hour. One hour and his fever had to come down or else. Cas hadn't said what 'or else' meant, but 'in danger of becoming deceased' was self-explanatory. Sam blinked against tears, hands beginning to shake.

"As far back on the tongue as possible." Cas said quietly, having returned. "It should bring his fever down in one hour."

"And if it doesn't?" Benny managed to ask, voice thick with emotion Sam chose to ignore.

"We can help him fight this." Cas said. "His body is fighting an infection whose origin we don't know. The first medicine was to help him with pain and dehydration and malnourishment and attempt to prevent an infection from becoming rampant. It was not meant to fight fever. Alone, neither medicine will save him; it will only give him a chance to be saved."

"A hospital." Sam grasped at the slim possibility there was still hope a doctor could save his brother.

"No Sam. I told you, as did the doctor, he won't respond to medical treatment. I am told we need to keep his fever down. If we can do that, the medicine will enable his body to effectively fight the infection."

"IF. IT. DOESN'T?" Benny grabbed Cas by the lapels of his coat and drew him nose to nose. "Will he be dead in an hour if his fever doesn't come down under 103?"

"We won't let that happen. I told Sam to call for me if he had to give him this medicine and it didn't work within an hour. It is good, there's no sign of bleeding. The blood from his arm is not cause for concern."

Sam gave himself a slap upside the head. Of course Cas had panicked at the sight of Dean bleeding. He knew of the possible side effects but couldn't distinguish between bleeding out and merely bleeding.

"There are no known side effects with this medicine. Either it will work, or it won't."

"No known." Sam repeated.

"It is not often given." Cas explained. "The first is usually all that is needed."

"So what do we do?"

***000***

Sam rotated his neck, straining his muscles until he heard the crack he was seeking. His ass was parked in the chair, eyes on Dean, waiting, watching for each inhale of breath. Breathing out when Dean did, inhaling twice as often, reaching out to adjust the blanket or feel for a pulse or plump the pillow or squeeze his brother's hand just to satisfy his need to know his brother's skin was warm with life.

He knew Benny would have sat vigil with him, would have preferred to, but Sam needed some time alone with his brother. Dean had been cooperative, taking the medicine without complaint, making a face at the taste, but not spitting it out. Wasn't enough to spit really, oh, he probably could have pushed the drool from his mouth with his tongue but he'd swallowed with a grimace and now he lay quiet, his breathing shallow but even. He looked…peaceful, as though he were simply asleep.

If only.

Sam sat back, knee jouncing. Someone needed to remain with Dean until his fever either broke or he….. No, Sam wasn't going to go there, refused to think that option could happen. No, just NO! He could do this, would do this. Dean's life depended on Sam staying awake, remaining by his side and keeping him warm and quiet.

The medicine in the blue bottle would help Dean fight the fever, but after forty-eight hours of sustaining a high fever, the medicine could fry his brain. Not to worry Cas said; all they needed to do was one simple thing:

Regulate Dean's body temperature. His fever couldn't surpass 104 and his body temperature couldn't read the lowest available temperature on the thermometer.

Evening wore on, turned into night, and became dawn. Benny joined Sam at some point and though Sam accepted his presence and his help, he refused to relinquish care of his brother entirely to the vampire or to Cas.

A pattern soon became evident, became routine. Lukewarm baths, towels and wash cloths soaked in cold water, warm, dry shirts and tucked into bed. Countless bottles of water, Gatorade offered and rejected, medicine-tainted milk reluctantly consumed when his refusal was denied. When his fever spiked, he became restless, trying to kick free from the blankets, crying when he jarred his injured foot. It took Sam talking nonsense, palm on his shoulder, fingers massaging along his collar bone to calm him down. His eyes opened when Benny or Cas tried to shush him but that was the only response either got.

At some time, no one knew when, because time had blurred then ceased to exist, the routine pattern shifted. Taken every twenty minutes, his fever bounced around; 103.4, then 102.8, then 96, then 100 and so on…never normal. Baths and towels soaked in cold water were discontinued. If he broke out in sweat, blankets were taken off. If he was hot to touch, bed bath with tepid water. If his lips turned blue, blankets back on, arms and legs rubbed for warmth and circulation. If his body shook with chills, held by Sam for his body heat.

Rinse and repeat. Sam would lie down, Cas would pace, Benny would step out. And Again. Sam would eat, Cas would pace, Benny would step out. One More Time, with feeling.

***000***

"Cause I never say die, never give in…'cause I don't know the meaning of death."

Great, he was singing. Again. Hours - no, days - of nail-biting, sitting on pins and needles, hoping, praying, days and the son-of-a-bitch was singing.

"Dean?" Sam flailed around in the bed, fighting with the mound of bed covers that had grown arms with the ability to box. "Dean?" sure Dean, wake up when I'm asleep, you son-of-a-bitch.

"Never stopped giving it all I got."

"Dean?" Hey, it's me, it's Sam, can you talk to me?" he was finally out of bed and standing over Dean. "Hey, what are you singing?"

"It's cold and dark down here, and I'm all alone, but I got no fear….I'm breaking out…..of here….."

"Dean, hey, come on, tell me what you're singing."

"Back to the light of day...gonna scratch, gonna crawl..."

"Dean?" Benny was at the other side of the bed, Cas at the foot. "Hey."

"Dean, what are you singing?" Sam felt his brother's forehead and lowered his head in silent prayers of thanks and gratitude.

"My song."

"Your song? You wrote a song? Dean, what song?"

"I gotta get out, back to the top, to the light of day 'cause I'm breaking out of hell….It's a looongg waayy dow-owwnnn, to the bottom of the well-eellellll…."

"DEAN!"

Startled into silence, green eyes blinked, finally remained open to squint against the light, dim though it was and eventually made direct contact with the three anxious faces above him, their heads so close together, Sam's hair touched both.

"Hey." Dean croaked, voice husky. "Water?"

"Sure, can't speak a simple word yet can sing just fine." Sam groused, hands holding his hair out of his face trembling with relief as he stared into green eyes, that for the first time in the five days since he'd been found in the well, were clear and bright with awareness and focused and knowing.

"It's good to see you again Dean." Cas announced.

"Welcome back there, buddy." Benny added.

"Water?" Dean licked his lips. The three heads moved away as one and high-fives and congratulatory back-slaps went around. "Guys?"

"Drinks on me." Benny said, reaching for his coat. "Anyone else?"

"I could use a drink." Sam agreed, reaching for his boots. "Hell, a bottle outta do it."

"Uh, guys?" he was speaking out loud, wasn't he?

"Cas, join us." Benny invited, turning the TV off.

"Hey?" man, he was weak.

"There's a bar just down the street, has food." Sam rustled through the mess on the desk for the car keys. "Burgers if nothing else."

"Water?" could no one hear him?

"There is much reason to celebrate." Cas opened the door. "I'd be happy to accompany you."

"Do you eat?" Benny shrugged into his coat and settled his hat on his head.

"I do not require sustenance but may consume it if I wish."

"Hey, uh…Guys?" all he heard was the click of the door as it closed behind the three men. "Sam?"

He raised his head to look around the motel room. It was trashed: clothes, towels, washcloths and blankets were strewn willy-nilly across the beds, furniture and the floor; desk, dresser and table were criss-crossed with newspapers, books, paper, bags and napkins and trash; Styrofoam cups and bowls and empty cans and water bottles too many to count were tossed on the counter, the floor and the sink; chairs were placed haphazardly around the room, one lay on its side; the other bed was bare of a bottom sheet, pillows at the foot, sheets and blanket a piled heap in the center of the mattress.

He smiled, eyes closing. This was no bottom of a well, it was home and he wasn't alone.

***************** End ****************