Might do an epilogue. Let me know if you want one, and i'll get one up tomorrow. :) Hope you liked the story, guys!
Dean and John had finally gotten through the long talk about what had gone on while John was gone. John was awe struck at how bad of a beating was described that the raw head inflicted on Sam. At once, he knew why his son had been so mad the past few days whenever John had contacted him.
They arrived back at the mouth of the cave. Dean looked around for Sam and spotted him. Sam was propped up against the wall, eyes closed, cheeks sunken, and as pale as snow. It broke his heart to see his baby brother is such bad condition.
John layed a reassuring hand on Dean's shoulder as Dean stared at his brother from across the room, feeling nothing but guilt. How could he let this happen? How could he be so eager to believe a complete and utter stranger about Sam's whereabouts? Why Sam? The thoughts made Dean's head swirl.
"Dean, he's fine. He's asleep, at least he's getting some rest." John squeezed his son's shoulder reassuringly.
"Ok." Dean barely managed to utter. He hated himself. He hated how he had believed a stranger. He hated how he had let his brother be put through hell while he was all honky-dory about having a date. It made him sick to his stomach.
He ordered his feet to move and he walked toward his brother. He bent down and picked Sam up, and pressed Sam's head into his shoulder blade, keeping one arm wrapped around his brother's body, clinging Sam to himself, determined not to let anything more happen to him.
John watched as Dean pressed Sam's fragile body to himself and smiled. He was happy that they had gotten along. He feared that the dangers and suspense of hunting would get between them, but was glad to see they were still as close.
"Let's get you two outta here, kiddo." John said and walked to the ladder and climbed up it. Dean nodded, his arms still wrapped around Sam's body. Dean climbed up the ladder with only one hand, keeping Sam clung to him as he did. Dean's eyes were cold as shards and his face stained with blood.
"Dean, what the hell happened to your arm?" John asked, suddenly seeing the still-running blood coming from Dean's arm. Dean realized the pain sinking back into his arm as John reminded him of his injury.
"Just had a little slip with the tv. I'm fine." Dean muttered, getting into the Impala once outside. He still had Sam in his arms and would not let go. John saw the deadly look in Dean's eyes and jumped into the Impala. This is going to be a long night, John thought.
Dean winced in pain as his father sewed his arm back together, the skin pulling tightly with each thread. "Almost finished, Dean-o." He said, soothingly. He hadn't used the nickname in years but thought it was time that Dean needed some sort of comfort.
Dean stared out the window, the night sky glistening with stars. The deadly look was still in his eyes and his father wrapped his arm up in gauze. Dean was about to stand and proceed to bed but his father grabbed his hand and forced Dean to sit once again.
Dean sighed and turned his glare at his father.
"This wasn't your fault." John said simply, staring into his son's eyes.
He saw his eyes flit with emotion once the words sunk in.
"But I believed a complete stranger, dad. It was my fault, I shoulda called Sammy in the first place and I-" Dean was cut off by his father.
"And do you realize that witches cast dark magic spells for that sort of thing? Dean, she was a witch and had control over you with some sort of spell. You know that. You know that if you weren't under one, you would have called Sam straight away." John replied, harsher than meant. But it had to be said. He hated when Dean blamed himself for Sam's condition after a hunt.
Dean's eyes filled with tears but he blinked them away.
"Ok." He replied in a whisper. John stood and pulled Dean into a hug, rubbing Dean's back soothingly. Chick flick, John thought. But he knew Dean needed comfort and reassurance. He knew he needed to be loved in an intimate and physical form.
Dean hugged his father back weakly, leaning into his father's arms slightly. Dean pulled back and looked into his father's eyes. "Thanks." he said.
"Anytime, Dean." He said, smiling. Dean forced a small smile before turning to go to check on Sam.
"Night, dad." Dean said.
"night, kiddo." John said back.
Dean went into his brother's room, closing the door behind him. He looked at his brother. His face a little more full, no more dirt on his face, the black bags under his eyes gone, the pale look lingering.
This is what I live for, he thought.
Dean went over to Sam's desk, pulled the chair from under the desk and sat it beside Sam's bed. Sitting in it, Dean took his little brother's hand. He got up from the chair and bent over Sam's small body. He brushed the brown hair from his forehead and kissed his brother on the forehead lightly.
"Night, Sammy.." he whispered. He settled himself back into the chair, taking his brother's hand in his once again.
Maybe things will work they're way back out, Dean thought as he lingered in and out of drowsiness.
He shut off the light, the room fading to blackness.
Just Maybe.
END.