Hope everyone had a safe and happy Halloween! Here's the next chapter, enjoy!

Sam's POV

It's been hours, and I'm still shaking. Trembling, really. I can't seem to stop.

I know I should be grateful. Ecstatic, even. I mean, for one thing, we're alive. It was a close call, but Dean's gonna pull through. The knife missed his femoral artery by a few inches, and luckily it didn't shatter the bone. Still, there was so much blood...

He's recovering in his room at the moment, been passed out on his bed for the past hour or so. I couldn't risk a hospital, so making the drive back to the bunker was the only option. There were a few times I thought I made the wrong choice though. There were a few times where I almost lost my brother. Four minutes and twenty three seconds of painstaking CPR on the side of the road ensured that I didn't.

Felt like a millennia though.

I'd called Kevin on the way back to make sure all the supplies I'd need would be at the bunker. Kevin fluttered between completely confused and completely relieved throughout our conversation, explaining to me how he'd been tracking down all the hunters he could find, trying to find some way to save us. And he'd lived up to the title of a lifesaver when I'd finally stumbled through the door with an unconscious Dean in my arms.

I'm not sure how much the Men of Letters knew about angels, so the bunker is currently covered in warding, the majority concentrated on the walls of Dean's room. He might be pissed, but as long as he survives, I'll take the hissy fit.

As long as he can walk again, I'll take all the blame for the crappy paint job.

So I need him to wake up. I need him to get back on his feet and start hashing out a plan, because at the moment I'm completely lost. Shaking like a fucking leaf.

Yet another part of me hopes he sleeps all day. Because I know he'll want to know how we got away. I know he'll want to know what our next move is. And I can't think about it, can't explain any of what happened back there in that hotel room. I don't understand it, and what I think I understand makes no sense.

All I remember is a feeling of uncontrollable rage when that damn angel slashed through Dean's leg, and then suddenly the room was exploding around us, lit up with a pure blast of white light and a high pitched ringing that ripped through my eardrums and shook the walls, blew the door clean off. There's no explanation for something like that. At least, none I'm willing to consider. Because the last time I was able to make things happen with only the power of my mind...it didn't end well.

"Sammy?!" The faint shout pulls me from my thoughts and has me sprinting for Dean's room at the end of the hall. It takes me an extra second to find him when I finally get to the doorway, because he's not in bed like I expected. Instead, the idiot is pulling himself across the floor towards the guns that line the far wall of his room, bandaged leg dragging limp and useless behind him. He whips his head around when I come in, instantly relaxing when he sees it's me.

"You scared me," he smiles. And then his eyes roll back in his head and he's lost to the world again.

"Damn it, are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?" I ask the moment I've situated Dean back in his bed and his eyes have finally fluttered open again. He frowns at me, groaning and trying to brush away the cool washcloth I'm holding against his forehead. I frown back when I notice how weak the attempt is.

"Seriously Dean, you wake up in the bunker and you assume something's wrong?" I press. I'm not really that angry, mostly just scared. I just need to hear his voice, to make sure he's really with me this time.

"Sorry Sam," he croaks, "can never be too careful."

I sigh and withdraw the washcloth, moving to help him sit up against the pillows and then reaching for the water I left beside his bed. He grimaces but drinks greedily, only pulling back when the glass is empty. And then he's licks his lips and asks the question I'm not ready for.

"How the hell did we get out of there?"

I shrug, focusing on a spot just past his right shoulder, careful to avoid his eyes. I stick to as much of the truth as I can.

"I don't know, Dean. I don't remember much. There was this flash of light and suddenly the angels were just...I don't know...gone? Dead?" I pause, but Dean's waiting patiently for more, so I continue. "I finally cut through my ropes and we were able to get out of there. I can't explain it."

Dean shakes his head, eyebrows scrunched together. "Well you're not making any fucking sense," he says, "you wanna elaborate a little more?"

"Look man, I really have no idea what happened okay? I have no clue how we got out of that one alive." I say, exasperated. Dean narrows his eyes at me, but after a moment he just shrugs.

"Alright, we'll figure all that crap out later. What's the story with all this then?" he asks, motioning to his left leg. "When can I get back on my feet?"

Oh God please not this question.

"Man, I don't know that either." I let the words flow, trying not to think about what they mean. "I mean she tore through you pretty good. There's definitely a lot of muscle damage that'll take a long time to heal. I don't know if...I mean I'm not sure how extensive..." I stop, my breath catching.

Dean is quiet beside me, picking absently at the bandages on his leg. Finally, he speaks, his voice soft, unsure. I easily recognize the fear behind his next words.

"Will I be able to...to walk again? Are we talking permanent damage here? Am I...I mean is it..." he shakes his head, looks right at me. "How bad Sammy?"

I want to drop my eyes, but his gaze forces me to hold his, and he finds all he needs to know in my silence. He purses his lips, nods slowly.

"Okay," he says, "okay."

But it's far from okay.

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