A/N Hey guys, so sorry for the delay, I got some serious writer's block! Hopefully things will start running a little more smoothly now!

A few hours later, Sam had returned from his excursion with a plastic bag full of clothes and food, his shoulders damp and dusted with snow. He swept the little snowflakes from his dark jacket and when he drew his hand away his palm was red with Dean's blood. He had almost forgotten the trauma of the night before, carrying Dean's limp body out of the alley, feeling the hot blood soak his clothes. Looking at Dean now, sitting upright in bed, green eyes sparkling, a stupid smile on his face it was hard to believe how close he had come to losing him. Sam reached out and wiped his hand on the front of Dean's hospital gown, leaving a red streak right down his front.

"Dude!" Dean protested. Sam smiled and emptied the bag on to the bed, before peeling off his ruined jacket and throwing it on to the chair. He had managed to find Dean some pie, but he had struggled a little with the clothes situation. Dean pulled out a thick granddad-style sweater from the pile on the bed. He held it up and observed it with horror.

"Sammy, what in God's name is this?"

"I know," Sam said, wrinkling his nose a little in disgust at the woolly abomination before them. "But it's really cold out and this is all they had."

"Don't they have plaid in Alaska?" Sam shrugged. "I'll just wear what I had on earlier," Dean said.

"You can't. Your shirt's got so many knife holes in it it's basically a string vest."

"My jacket?"

"Looks like a sieve." Dean crushed the ugly sweater back in to the bag with a resigned sigh. The brothers sat in silence for a moment before they met each other's eyes and laughed. But a second later, they fell quiet again, both feeling the conversation they needed to have hanging over them like a thunderstorm. Eventually Dean spoke.

"Now do you understand why I saved you when you were in that coma?"

"You can't compare that to this," Sam said, running his hands through his hair. "This was completely different situation."

"This was an identical situation," Dean snapped back. "I don't know how long I was in that alley, but by the time you got there, I was ready to go man. I was so tired, I didn't think you were ever coming back and I honestly wouldn't have minded dying."

"So you wish I hadn't saved you?"

"No, that's what I'm saying. I'm glad you did. I wasn't thinking straight. That's why I needed you there, to force me to keep going, even when things looked really bleak." Sam looked out the window for a while and Dean wondered if he was going to go off on another rant about how it wasn't Dean's right to bring him back from the dead, but he didn't

"I guess I understand why you did it," he said, not quite meeting his eye. "I couldn't have watched you die back there."

"Is that an apology?" Dean said with a smirk.

"Don't push it," Sam said, and then he did something that he hadn't done since he was ten. He rested his head on his big brother's shoulder. Dean put his arm around him and smiled. It wasn't as comfortable or natural a position now that Sammy was approximately the size of Bigfoot, rather than the skinny little thing he had been when they were young, but Dean wouldn't have traded that moment for the world.

"Are we good?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, lifting his head and clearing his throat as though trying to dislodge the slight awkwardness of the situation. "I think we're good."

"Dean and Sam are back in business," Dean said.

"It's Sam and Dean actually."

"No way, it's Dean and Sam. It's alphabetical. And eldest first," he said, shoving Sam with his shoulder.

"Not a chance man," Sam said, grinning. "Dean and Sam doesn't even sound right." Dean didn't try to argue anymore, he was too busy enjoying the feeling of normality. He felt at last like things could go back to the way they were when Bobby was alive. Movie nights, poker games, calling each other names as they drove along a winding road in the middle of nowhere…

Cas appeared a short while later, still looking tired, but he was a little steadier on his feet. He stood at the foot of Dean's bed.

"How do you propose we get back to Kansas?"

"Steal a car, I guess," Dean said, finding that he was actually pretty excited by the idea of a long drive with his brother and his best friend.

"Road trip," Sam said, with a grin.

"Shotgun!" shouted Cas, so abruptly that Sam and Dean looked at him in surprise. Sam scoffed,

"I don't think so, buddy." He looked to his brother for support, but Dean just raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"Sorry, Sammy, rules are rules." Cas beamed with pride.

Dean dressed in the thick, grey, woollen sweater, his back burning with a dull pain as he stretched his arms. He felt tired and every bone in his body ached, but all in all, he didn't feel too bad for being stabbed eight times. What he wanted more than anything right now was to be home in the bunker with a beer in his hand. Everything else could wait.

Sam came back in to the room dangling a set of car keys in his hand. He looked like he was about to explain where he had found them when he caught sight of Dean's sweater. A look of barely controlled laughter spread across his face.

"Shut up Sam," Dean snapped, scratching at his arms and looking enviously at Sam who was still wearing his plaid shirt, despite it being splattered with blood stains. "You bought this monstrosity, you should be wearing it."

"But you look so pretty!" They were interrupted by the door swinging open with such force that it banged against the wall. Two cops stood in the doorway, each looking as serious as the other.

"Sam Winchester?"

"Yes," he said hesitantly. As soon as the word was out of his mouth, the taller cop grabbed him by the arm and pushed him against the wall, twisting his arm up and behind his back.

"Get your hands off him," Dean yelled, jumping to his feet. "What the hell is going on?" Pinned against the wall, Sam felt the second cop pat him down forcefully, almost instantly coming across the knife he kept strapped around his ankle. The cop pulled out the knife and showed it to his partner. Sam heard the rattle of handcuffs and felt cold metal clamp tightly around his wrist.

"Sam Winchester, you're under arrest for attempted murder."

A/N As always, thanks for reading and please leave a review if you have a moment. I've started writing a series of Destiel one-shots that I'll start uploading when this story is finished, so if you would be interested in reading those, feel free to follow me! Take care, CMPerry x