Chapter 10

Hey guys… so sorry about last chapter; I completely forgot that Sam knew Bobby when he was young- still kind of a newbie with SPN. So I fixed it up and it's new and improved. Here's the next chapter: it's early cause it's a birthday present to me! Turning 17 soon :)

Enjoy!

Dean watched in amusement as Sam shoveled down the jello that he "didn't" like. In seven minutes flat, the five jello cups were completely empty.

"Geez Sam, hungry much?"

"Yes," Sam shot back, giving Dean a glare. "Got a problem with that?"

"No, no. Do your thing," Dean smirked, putting up his hands in surrender.

Sam placed the last empty cup on the tray and laid back on the pillows, sighing in content.

"Ya know, I don't think it was very smart to eat so fast after not eating for so long, college-boy."

"Why?"

"Well, for one-" But Dean couldn't finish as he saw Sam's face lose all color and his cheeks bulge. His eyes went wide as his hand shot up to his mouth.

"Oh, god," Sam said, his voice muffled. "D'n?"

The older brother immediately went into action, grabbing a nearby trashcan and thrusting it into Sam's arms; just in time, thankfully. Sam puked all that he had eaten- which wasn't very much- into the trash can. He retches reverberated against the container, making the noise louder than it should be. Dean winced in sympathy as he placed a comforting hand on Sam's trembling back.

"Just let it out, you're okay," Dean soothed. "Just let it happen, kiddo, I got you."

After about two minutes of vomiting and one of dry heaving, Sam spit the remaining bile and took his head out of the can, breathing heavily.

"You okay, kid?" Dean looked at Sam in concern.

"Y-Yeah, I'm- I'm good. E-Exhausted but g-good."

"Here," Dean said grabbing a tissue and handing it to his brother. "Wipe that shit off your face, and I don't mean the throw-up," Dean said jokingly.

"Ha ha, very funny," Sam said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes. He accepted the tissue and wiped his mouth. When he was done, he threw it away with the bile in the trashcan. He passed the bin to Dean, who disgustingly picked it up with pinched fingers and put it as far away as possible from the both of them. Sam fell back lethargically onto the pillows and closed his eyes. Why did he have to feel like he'd just ran a marathon?

"Dean?"

"Yeah, man?"

"When…when can I go…home? I need- I have to see if Jess is okay."

"Sam, geez, she's okay, alright? Trust me."

"Huh, the last time I trusted you, you left me alone with a drunken dad and he nearly beat me to death."

Dean frowned, utterly shocked at what was just said. Why the hell would Sam say that?

"What the hell, man? I've always had your back and now you're bringing that one mistake up? I said I was sorry and I've been guilty about that my whole life! So shut the hell up!"

"Whatever," said Sam opening his eyes and rolling them in annoyance.

"No, not whatever. How could you not trust me after all that we've-" but then Dean caught himself. Sam didn't know what they've been through; he didn't remember. It was like it never happened. "How could you not trust me?" Dean growled, hoping Sam didn't notice his slip-up.

"Dean, just let the subject go. I'm too tired to argue with you right now."

"Nope. You brought it up, so like it or not, we're fucking talkin' about this. What the hell is your issue, man? I saved your ass multiple times, which includes saving you from rotting on the side of the road, Sam! I've stayed by your side every second of the way; I haven't slept peacefully in days, because I was so worried about you! But, if you really feel that way, if you really don't trust me, then I guess all of it was for nothing! Saving your life was for nothing!"

"Dean! P-please don't- don't say that. I'm- I didn't mean to say it like that, alright? I'm sorry!"

"Sorry ain't gonna cut it, kid. I'm leaving, I need some fresh air."

I need some fresh air. I need some fresh air. Fresh air. Fresh air. That phrase, it sounded so familiar to Sam. But why?

"Dean wait I'm- gah!" Sam grunted, bending over and clutching his head tightly. It felt like someone was pounding a hammer on a weight, or worse, it felt like it was on fire.

Dean was just about to storm out of the room, when he heard his little brother cry out…in pain. He spun around to see Sam gripping his head as tears of agony trickled down his, suddenly, pale face. Immediately, all the anger evaporated, his brotherly protectiveness dominating it.

"Sam!" He shouted as he ran over to his little brother and placed a hand on his quivering back. "Sammy, can you hear me? What's wrong!"

"M-My head! Oh god Dean, it hurts!"

"Okay, okay, calm down; I'm gonna get help, alright?"

"No! Please d-don't leave me! Oh fuck, it h-hurts, please Dean make it stop!"

"I will, I will, just breathe through it!"

"I-I can't Dean, just please make it stop!" Sam cried.

Dean's heart crumbled at his brother's broken cry. He reached over the kid's head and slammed the call button repeatedly.

"Come on, come on, hurry up!" Dean muttered, willing the nurses to hurry their asses up so they could help his brother. He had no idea what was wrong with Sam, but all he knew was that it was scaring the shit outta him.

Finally Sam's doctor and a couple of nurses came bursting into the room.

"Dean ple-" suddenly Sam's voice cut off as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his rigid arms fell limp to his side.

"Sam?" Dean shouted as Sam's lifeless body fell back onto the bed, unconscious. The pain had been so intense that it caused his brother to pass out.

"Sam! Dammit Sammy, wake up!" Dean murmured, pulling Sam's upper body into his arms and shaking it.

"Sam!"

"Dean, you're gonna have to leave the room," Dr. Walker said.

"No, something's wrong with him and I'm not leaving his side!"

The doctor sighed and looked at Dean sympathetically. The kid looked exhausted and stressed, so he should just cut him some slack.

"Fine, but you need to stay out of the way so we can do our jobs, okay?"

Dean scowled but nodded, backing away into a corner as he watched Dr. Walker go to Sam's side. He observed fearfully as the doctor checked Sam's pupils, brainwaves and other things Dean didn't understand. When they finally finished, the nurses left the room and the doctor turned to Dean. The somber look, though, told him that it was bad.

"What? What happened?"

"It seems that the TBI's swelling is causing pressure to your brother's brain, therefore explaining the pain in Sam's head. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it caused your brother to go into a light coma.

A coma? Dammit, Sammy, a coma? You never do things halfway do ya kid?

"But now that he's asleep, it will aid in having the intercraneal pressure to decrease."

"Uhm, when will he wake up, do you know?"

"It's too soon to say, Dean, but swelling decreasing usually takes 3-5 days…if he's lucky maybe less."

Dean felt like he was punched in the gut. This was hi fault…once again. Maybe if he didn't start the arugument with his brother, which caused the kid to yell, then maybe he'd be okay. But no, he had to open his big fat mouth and kept the shouting going. Sam usually was the one who did that, but he'd been tired and wanted to rest. You stupid Sonofabitch, Dean. Why do you keep screwing things up?

"I'll leave you alone with your brother," said the doctor, breaking Dean out of his guilty thoughts.

"T-Thanks, I appreciate it." Dean waited until the doctor left before he fell weekly to his knees. Everything was so overwhelming. He couldn't take it anymore.

"God dammit, Sammy; don't do this to me, dude," Dean sniffed.

From the ground he examined his little brother's heartbeat on the monitor. It was slow; too slow…almost like he was dying. But hopefully he wasn't. Dean shook the thought out of his head; he had to think positive. After a couple minutes of thinking, he composed himself and stood up and cleared his throat as he fixed his jacket. Now all he had to do was play the waiting game…worst game ever invented.

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It'd been three days since Sam went into a supposedly "light" coma. Dean had stopped eating…for once, and he stopped sleeping. He knew it was bad for his health, but he didn't give a damn. His appearance was haggard, but he also didn't care about that either. He'd called Bobby yesterday and told him the news and he came as fast as he could. When he saw Sam he gasped; when he saw Dean, he was shocked. The kid looked horrible. He tried to talk some sense into the boy, but he couldn't get through to him. Dean just ignored him and kept his gaze on Sam, his chest and the monitor. Bobby had left, leaving Dean to think things through, but he didn't think…he only waited. Occasionally, a nurse or Sam's doctor would come in to check on not only Sam, but Dean as well. The poor man looked sick and depressed; they'd tried to encourage him to eat, but once again, they couldn't get through to him. No one could except for one: Sam.

Dean could have cared less on how he looked to other people. He cared more about how ill Sam looked. His face was pale-almost gray- with a tint of yellow from his lack of sun exposure. He'd gotten a lot skinner-probably lost about twenty pounds- since they haven't hunted in forever. Usually running for or from something that was trying to kill people and them would have them loose at least ten pounds. Maybe not himself so much, because of the foods he ate, but…whatever. Sam muscles had begun to wither, making his normally large frame seem a lot smaller than it should be. The feeble kid looked like he'd been in a fight- not associated with the supernatural for once- his eyes rimmed with dark circles. The only good thing was that the bruises on Sam's nose were almost transparent. That was one good thing; now all Sam had to do was wake up.

Dean rubbed his face, feeling the prickly stubble scratch his palm.

"Come on, Sammy, please wake up," Dean whispered in a hoarse voice. He barely talked since Sam fell unconscious. He didn't see the point if he couldn't banter with or annoy Sam, then there was no fuckin' point…to anything.

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It was almost 8am on the fourth day of Sam's coma and Dean was still staring at his brother through heavy-lidded eyes. He repeatedly rubbed his grit filled eyes with his left hand while he rested his heavy laden head on his right. He was so damn tired and he desperately wished for some coffee- or better, some beer, but he didn't want to leave his brother's side…he couldn't. Not without seeing Sam's big puppy dog eyes open and reassure him that he was okay again.

"Sam, let's get the show on the road, dude. Just wake up…please?"

Nothing. Dean groaned in frustration and he scrubbed his eyes once more; none of this would have happened if they hadn't fought. None! How could he let this all go to hell? Well, maybe not hell, but it was pretty damn close. They could've been out on a hunt, Sam bitching and moaning as usual while Dean stuffed his face with greasy unhealthy foods. Those were the normal days; the most normal days a Winchester could have in their line of work.

Suddenly, a noise brought Dean out of his thoughts. A groan. Sam? Dean sat up quickly and looked at his brother closely.

"Sam?"

His heart lept when he saw his brother's face crease and his lanky form shift weakly underneath the sheets.

"Oh, thanks god," Dean breathed as he took Sam's hand tightly in his own.

"Come on Sammy."

Finally, after fifteen seconds of groaning and blinking, Sam's eyes opened tiredly.

"Sam?"

His brother looked around in sheer confusion before his eyes landed on Dean.

"D-Dean?" He coughed, his voice raw from so many days of silence.

"Hey man. Nice to finally see you awake," Dean grinned.

"Where-"

"It's okay, Sam. Jess is fine. Don't worry," Dean cut Sam off, assuming that Sam was about to ask where his girlfriend was.

"Sam frowned. "Why the hell would you joke about something like that?"

"What?"

"How could you say that to me? You know how much I went through after Jess' death, why would you say something like that?"

Jess' death, Jess' death. Sam remembered his girlfriend's death. That meant-

"Answer me, Dean! Why?" Sam said heatedly.

"Son of a bitch, Sam! Your memory's back!" Exclaimed the older man as he wrapped his arms tightly around Sam and hugged him.

Sam was confused. What the hell? What is Dean doing and why was he so lovey-dovey all of a sudden? He hesitated before he awkwardly brought his hands up to Dean's back to return the hug. But two questions were really nagging his brain: When did he lose his memory and what the hell happened to him?

Dean was pretty mean to Sam wasn't he? But now I feel bad for the guy and Sam! Next chapter up soon :) Comment:) BTW sorry if things don't make since or medical things are off: tired lol :)