Whisphers of the Heart

Black-Angel-001: because i can't let you go on for too long without knowing our dear sammy's fate (and because my thought hamsters won't allow me) the next chapter.

Whisphers of the Heart

He was deep under water. He couldn't breath. There was no light, no warmth, no cold. There wasn't anything but the water that pressed around him on all sides and the current that dragged him along and made the water deeper, darker. He let himself follow the flow, not having the strength to fight against it. He couldn't recall anything before the water and couldn't seem to find the ability to be scared by that. Was it worth it to try to remember, to be worried by the loss of memory? He let go of the wanderings and continued on with the current.

A murmmer. A sound. Something he couldn't really comprehend or hear. The farther away he drifted, the harder it became to hear and that bothered him for some reason. For an unexplainable, unknown reason, he wanted to know what that sound was. He pushed against the current a little, testing. The water didn't give easily and he didn't really move. He tried again, harder and surged against the flow. In the briefest of moments, the sound was loud and clear: a voice. Curiosity came over him, making him burn with the need to know. Who did the voice belong to? Why were they calling him? Were they important? Did they know him? He wanted to find out, had to find out to satisfy that curiosity inside that flared.

He pushed against the current in strong strokes, pushing harder and harder and harder when the current pushed back. The going was difficult, nearly impossible at times and he paused many times, thought about quitting. But the curiosity about who it could be was too strong and stubbornness helped him kick and move his arms. The current began to slow and it was easier to swim through then there was stillness. Absolute, complete and total stillness in the water, his body, the sound. The voice was gone and he felt disappointed; he'd fought so hard for nothing? He let himself sink a little into the water and the murmmer started again. He started slowly towards the surface to hear better and while it got a little louder, it wasn't by much and it wasn't clear what the words were. The tone was clear though and he almost sank back down when he heard it.

Despair, hoplesness, great sadness. He heard those things clearly and wished he could do something about it. He concentrated on what was being said, or tried to. It was broken, muffled and hard to hear. Like the swim back to that point though, it was curiosity and a stubborn attitude that kept him going.

-mmy, remember that?

It faded out again and he went a little closer to the surface.

..so excited...-opped...cream...

It took him a long time to realize that he knew that voice, those tones. He knew that person better than he knew himself and tried harder to listen, to remember whatever the voice could give him.

It seemed to take forever. Little flashes, impressions, faces.

Eventually he could put names and words to everything that flashed by. At the same time, the water was vanishing, disappearing as if going through a drain. As the water left, he got warmer and warmer and warmer. The absence of cold and heat was no longer an issue and he felt like he might be on fire. When he looked, there was no fire to be seen, despite the growing heat and feel of flame flickering near by. He twisted, or tried to, and made a small sound, barely audible. The fire was growing, he was so hot and God where was...

Fire burst over him, spreading and grabbing at everything, eagerly and greedily. His wide eyes tracked the flames and his mouth opened, closed, with no sound coming out.

Suddenly, his body surged forward and one word left his lips.

"Dean!"

He was back in Hell, it felt like. Dean stayed in the clearing holding his brother for what felt like forever when in reality it had only been ten minutes. Eventually the growing stiffness and weight of Sam's body forced Dean to put him down on the ground again but kept one of Sammy's hands in his, using the other to brush hair back from his forehead. It was all so messed up, so wrong. The spell was supposed to help Sam, not kill him. But Dean had lost him again, through a magic ritual he hadn't checked out thoroughly himself, just trusted Jophiel's word. Dean had been insistent and half assed about the whole thing, just eager to get it done and have Sam back.

That was the thing that was most wrong of all.

"I'd always check the street before you crossed," he said suddenly into the quiet. Dean didn't know where the angels and Bobby were, didn't really care. Probably hovering nearby. As long as they didn't try to pull him away from Sam, or take Sam away from him, and kept their distance Dean didn't care what they did.

"You would hold my fingers, because your hand wasn't that big yet. You'd look around at whatever would grab your attention 'cause you knew I'd make sure it was safe to cross the road." Dean chuckled humoressly. "Did a bad job of that for a couple of years now, and I'm sorry for that Sammy."

He looked at the ground, studied a blad of grass vaugly before his lips twitched in a smile before he could help it. "There was this time, back when we were 'bout, what, ten and six. We went to the circus for the first time ever with dad. Yeah, it was for a job, but he actually let us watch the show. The acrobats were your favorite Sammy, remember that?"

Dean shifted so he was more comfortable on his knees. "Then there was another time, on your birthday, we stopped at Marble Slab ice cream. Dad was in a rare really good mood, and you'd never had the stuff before so..." Dean laughed a little. "You were so excited you dropped your ice cream and Dad gave you his." The only reason he'd managed that was because Dean hadn't been able to do it first.

He kept talking, knowing Sam probably couldn't hear him but hoping that somehow Cas would be able to get these memories to Sam in Heaven, so he could have them there. Dean called up every memory he could, from childhood to adulthood, from the fourth of July in a field of Nowhere, USA, to the night Dean went to Stanford to get Sam. He could count that as a good memory, couldn't he?

Dean reached out again to brush back Sam's hair, knowing it was one of the few things that could comfort Sam all through his life. He paused when he felt Sam's forehead. It was warm. Dean frowned and pressed his palm against the side of Sam's face where he felt the same warmth. He knew enough about dead bodies that they got colder, not warmer. He felt his little brother's neck, his hand, even his chest. Sam was getting warmer and warmer, like he was getting a fever.

Then he just barely twitched.

Dean had been tuned to his brother's movement since he'd been born and knew every time Sam moved. So he was sure that he was seeing Sam's eyes move behind his lids, mouth barely opening and closing.

Sam took a deep breath, then was surging up to a sitting position, eyes wide and open, one word coming out of his mouth in a panicked shout.

"Dean!"

Dean was in motion so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. He wrapped an arm around Sam's chest when he started to sag forward, the other around his shoulders. He could just barely hear Sam's harsh, gulping breaths over the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. The hand on Sam's chest moved until it was over his heart and Dean felt the lub-dub reapeat. Sam jerked involuntarily, then pulled himself up straighter, head swivelling around to take in his surroundings and looking for something.

His eyes locked onto Dean's face and stayed there, intent and focused.

Dean swallowed hard and rough. "Sammy?"

"Hey Dean," Sam said with a small smile. "Found ya."

It was what Sam always said when he found Dean during a game of hide-n-seek and Dean blinked back against tears.

"Sam, are you okay," he asked because he wanted to know, had to know.

"Tired, slightly confused," Sam replied with another look around. It was a brief inspection and then he was locked onto Dean again.

Dean pulled Sam to him again, an imitation of no more than thirty or so minutes ago but with one huge difference. This time, Sam was alive and returning the embrace, clutching at Dean's jacket as fiercly as Dean was clutching at his.

For the first time since they arrived at the grove, the sounds of the night filled the air.

At the hotel again, Dean sat with Sam on the bed farthest from the door against the headboard, shoulders firmly touching. Every so often, they would look over at each other and smile softly when the other caught them looking. Bobby had continued to stare at Sam, smiling widely and wiping at his eyes every so often. Castiel had actually given Sam a brief hug, looking a bit embarressed by the whole thing. Jophiel had looked relieved.

"I'm glad it worked so well," she said after the chick-flick moment had passed.

Dean gave her an incredolous look. "'Worked so well'? Sam died, like honest to God died for an extended period of time. How the hell do you not have any brain damage from that, by the way. Any more than usual," he ammended with a grin and man did it feel good to pick on his brother again!

Sam rolled his eyes good naturedly, wincing only a little from it. "I told you Dean, I don't know."

"That was because of the crystals. It all actually went according to plan, Dean. I was worried for a moment, but-"

"Woah, woah. Wait a sec. Sam dieing was according to plan?" Dean slowly stood from the bed and a little ways away from Jophiel. 'What plan are you talking about?"

Cas cleared his throat nervously and shuffled a bit, trying to look anywhere but at Dean and Sam. Dean's gaze whipped around to him. "Cas?"

"We did...modify the ritual a little when we told you about it," the angel admitted, looking at Dean with the expression of a child who'd just broken a window with a baseball.

"Modify how," Bobby asked for Dean because he was too stunned (read that as angry) to speak.

Cas looked at Jophiel, practically begging her to answer instead of him.

"I told you that at a point, Samuel's mind would be completely blank, and that was when you and Dean would have to talk to him, or else he would die."

Bobby nodded, Sam looked on with tired understanding and Dean held still; he was afraid of what he might do otherwise.

"In actuality, the spell does actually kill him. So to speak."

"It DID actually kill him! So to speak," Dean sneered back to the angel. She didn't look disturbed or worried or even sorry and that pissed Dean off to a whole new level.

"Why don't you tell us exactly what the spell was supposed to do," Sam said from the bed, voice full of exhaustion. Dean backed down enough to stand near Sam again, eyes never leaving Jophiel.

"Certainly Samuel. The circle, words, candles, oils and herbs were designed to purify, like I told you," she said to Dean. "The crystals and other herbs were also designed to focus soley on Samuel's memories, also like I told you. Samuel could very well have been killed by the crystals failing, or his body could have burst into flames. I told you that."

"Yeah, I got that part," snapped Dean. "I'm more concerned with the part you didn't tell me." Sam's fingers brushed against his hand and Dean backed off (again) just a little.

"I didn't tell you that if the ritual was successful up to that point, then Samuel really would die. Sort of."

"How do you 'sort of' die," Bobby asked in that dry way of his. "You either are or you aren't."

"Sam was in a state of limbo," Cas said, apparently feeling confident enough to join in. "He can't go back to Hell because Heavenly powers are preventing it, but he couldn't get into Heaven either."

"Exscuse me?" Sam's grip tightened on Dean's hand and Dean spared a moment to frown at his little brother. He hadn't shot the angels yet, so he figured he was doing great on the whole restraint thing.

Sam just raised his eyebrows and Dean rolled his eyes.

"A person's Heaven is based on their memories, remember," Cas continued as if the unspoken conversation had never taken place. "Because Sam had no memories, or rather, had his memories blocked, there was no Heaven."

Not in Heaven, not in Hell, just...there. The idea made Dean's gut clench at the wrongness of it. Sam's hand tightened again for an entirely different reason and Dean grasped it back. He'd worry that they were holding hands later, when the lingering memory of Sam twisting and turning in pain, then being completely still and dead wasn't coming back every second or so.

"The entire idea was that during this time, you would be severely emotional," picked up Jophiel, ignoring Dean's glare again. "You would also reminisce about your memories with Samuel, Samuel would somehow hear it, feel it, and make his way back to you."

"And if it didn't work," asked Bobby because Dean didn't dare.

Jophiel kept her eyes on the brothers. "That would be when Samuel burst into flames."

"He'd have been in Heaven, though," offered Cas. Dean looked at him, then at Jophiel.

"So you were hoping this entire thing would work based on Dean's grief and love for his brother, and Sam's stubbornness when it came to Dean," summarized Bobby. Jophiel nodded.

"You son...of a...bitch!" Dean lunged forward and grabbed Jophiel by the throat. There were shouts but Dean's vision had tunneled onto the angel who's eyes flashed once at the threat but otherwise remained relaxed.

"You fucking knew this would happen! You were counting on it and you didn't tell me! I'm fucking sick of being jerked around by you angels!"

Jophiel stayed still. "If I'd have told you, you wouldn't have gone with the plan."

Dean let go. It was true, he knew it and so did everyone else. He would never have agreed to the ritual knowing for sure that Sam would end up dead with a slim chance that he could come back. Dean would have fought against it and demanded they find something else while Sam stayed in that 'between' angel sleep, tormented and tortured for what could have been years. The truth of that made Dean sit back with Sam on the bed, tyring to process the entire night, the past few days.

Black-Angel-001: -creeps out from hiding place with a white flag- so ya see, sammy's alive! and if you follow the reasoning of the spell, it was totally necessary for him to die so dean could bring him back, hence it was a good thing! see? no more angry readers now, right? -chuckles nervously- i'd hoped to finish with this chapter, but it obviously isn't happening..one more i think, with all the brother love you fangirls (and guys, if you're out there) could want!