Gosh, I'm excited. Who else?

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Chapter 24

Two men in one room. For hours and hours. Staring into thin air without actually saying a word, sharing a thought. It might have felt awkward, odd in any other situation. But right now it was everything Sam was asking for.

He sat on a hard, uncomfortably chair, only a few inches away from Dean's bedside, gazing at the sheets covering his brother, inspecting the fibers without seeing them. Phillip was leaning against the windowsill at the other side of the bed, chewing his fingernails, a task he had had started hours ago and probably wasn't going to abandon anytime soon.

Sam was glad for the man's presence. It helped him to keep himself grounded, prevented him from going stir crazy. Without Phillip by his side Sam was sure he might have had lost it already.

The noises had caught up with him after all. Those sounds that always highlighted the Winchester mortality.

The damn heart monitor. Impossible to ignore. Forcing you to follow each Beep!Beep! like a lifeline, causing your heart to skip a beat whenever the monitored one did. The whooshing of the ventilator. Feeding exhausted lungs with precious air when they weren't strong enough to get the job done by themselves anymore.

Leaning forward, Sam knuckled his eyes and let out a tired sigh.

Dean wasn't out of the woods. He had lost a terrifying amount of blood. From what the surgeons had told Sam they had had great difficulties to stop the bleeding altogether because of the shredded veins and tendons.

It was now while he sat with his comatose brother that he became really aware of what Dean had done to himself. Oh God, if Sam had only known how desperate Dean had been. To do something like this.

He looked up, scanning the relaxed, pale features of his sibling. If it weren't for the breathing tube one could think he was wrapped up in a warm, peaceful slumber, no dream or memory haunting him. Sam could only hope that it was like this. He hoped that wherever Dean was right now, it was helping him to rest. To gather his strength again, so he would find his way back. To him. To the world. To himself.

A sharp knock ripped Sam from his musings and from the way he noticed Phillip jerk in surprise the nurse hadn't been prepared for any interruption either. The door opened and a huge man wearing all too familiar clothing entered the room, his gaze darting from Sam to Dean and coming to a halt on Phillip.

"Shift changeover", he rumbled, "everything okay in here?"

Sam fought the urge to throw a snarky remark at the man, just switched his attention back to Dean's still form.

"Yes, we're okay, thank you", Phillip answered politely and Sam heard the door click shut again. He couldn't hold back an angry huff.

"I'm still wondering why they do that", he growled, "they could chain him to the bedpost with their fancy leather straps instead of sending shifts of orderlies over, peering in every two fucking hours to check if everything's in right order."

"Oh, they'd do that", Phillip replied, "it's the hospital policies colliding here. Lake Okeechobee would chain their patients to their beds, but St. Mary's doesn't allow it. So they have to put orderlies in front of the room to make sure Dean won't bail."

"As if he'd go anywhere soon." It was also a growl, but it held a defeated quality to it.

The two men lapsed into silence again, but Sam felt Phillip's gaze linger on him. He looked up at the nurse.

"What?"

There was a peculiar expression in Phillip's eyes, something warm, curious. A soft smile appeared on his face.

"You're not just Dean's shrink, aren't you, Sam?"

Sam held Phillip's gaze, didn't reply immediately. He then averted his eyes, started to fidget with his fingers before he looked at Dean.

"He's my brother", Sam stated softly, affection and concern thickening his voice. He cleared his throat and met the other man's eyes again. "What gave us away?"

There was no surprise, no shock, no disappointment on Phillip's face, only sympathy.

"I met a few psychiatrists in my life, Sam. I saw a lot of ways how patients and their doctors mix." he then shook his head. "I never witnessed so much dedication, such a chemistry."

Sam managed a sad smile. How much dedication had there been when his brother now lay here, fighting for his life, a life he didn't want? How much of use was a chemistry when one had tried to kill himself?

One thing was sure. Sam had screwed up. He had been supposed to have Dean's back. It had been his job to get him out of this mess, to prevent shit from hitting the fan. He had failed. And the punishment held out in prospect was unbearable.

"It didn't work out, though", Sam whispered, his vision blurring once again, "I wasn't much of a help."

"How could you've been help, Sam? Help in terms of getting him out?" Phillip shook his head once more, not in awe this time, but in compassion. "I'm sorry I have to come to the facility's defense. If it were that easy to get out of Lake Okeechobee, what kind of mental institution would it be?"

Sam didn't respond, just clenched his jaw.

"And the mental condition Dean was or is in...well, you said it yourself, and I'm 100 per cent with you on this...the drugs he got added to the mess." The nurse stepped forward and sank onto the other chair at Dean's bedside.

"Look, I don't know what happened to Dean in the past", he went on empathically, "it's none of my business, I'm not even sure if I'd want to know it at all. But there's nothing you could have done. The drugs, the medication...I know they can have this impact, on people with traumas or bad experiences more than others, I was there every damn time and I saw patients take their lives often enough..."

"I could have been faster", Sam choked out, "I could have noticed he change earlier..."

"You noticed the change and you did something. You ordered to discontinue the meds..."

"Too late, Phillip!" the young Winchester yelled, all the desperation and anger at himself bubbling up, "Look at him! For all I know I made it worse by denying him those meds. He's almost gone and even if the doctors here can pull him back, I don't know what to expect when he wakes up. Last time he talked to me he told me he didn't want to be alive anymore. How am I supposed to handle that, Phil?"

Sam noticed tears streaming down his face and with an angry wipe of his sleeve he rubbed them away. He focused on his sibling again, searching for an answer in Dean's slackened features, the older Winchester completely oblivious of the struggle raging in Sam.

Despite Phillip's presence, despite Dean being right here albeit only physically, Sam once again felt utterly alone, the weight of guilt and fear pressing down on him, crushing him. He needed Dean to wake up, to open his eyes, to tell him where to go, tell him which was the right thing to do. But at the same time he was scared shitless of what would greet him when Dean came to. Would it be Dean at all? Or just some empty shell? Would Dean be happy to see him? Or hate him for not letting go?

"I'm sorry", Sam rasped, trying to regain his composure, "it's just...I'm...Phillip, could you give me a minute?" He looked up, feeling like an idiot for yelling at the other man, who had been such a support and friend.

"Of course", the nurse replied calmly, consternation reflecting in his face. He stood, took one long glance at Dean and walked over to the door. "I'm around. Just call me if you need anything."

Sam nodded, a thankful but fragile smile brightening up his face. When Phillip disappeared behind the door, his smile crumpled and he slumped down in despair.

The blackness that enveloped him loosened it's hold, the warm and blissful oblivion that felt as if it had been there for years retreating. Dean blinked, not sure if his eyes had been open all the time or if he had been asleep. He couldn't see, it was still dark. But he knew he was awake now.

The first thing he felt was confusion, followed by an unnatural heat, creeping into every pore of his skin. He knew the heat. Knew how eroding it could be. He had felt it for forty years.

He was back. Why was he back? What had happened?

Already sweat was crawling into his eyes, causing him to squeeze them shut. When he tried to wipe the moisture away, he noticed the immobility of his hands for the first time. At the realization of the way he was strapped down, with both his arms outstretched and tight down a wave of fear slammed into him.

No.

Dean yanked his head around only to be held back by another restraint, keeping him from turning it into any direction.

God, no. How was this possible?

A choked gasp escaped his mouth. He started to tug at his legs and let out a partly panicky, partly angry howl when they also refused to obey due to something keeping them secured. Dean's pulls and movements became frantic, turned into tearing and yanking, accompanied by desperate cries and raging screams.

He was on the rack again. Why was he on the rack again? What had he done? What had happened?

After long minutes or hours or days of struggling and fighting the restraints Dean gave up, his body wrecked by pants and sobs, his chest rising and falling too fast, on the verge of hyperventilating.

Voices joined his own sounds of distress. Ringing laughter, far away at first, only to slam into him like a gust of wind. Whispering, purring, someone singing.

"Get away from me", Dean rasped, renewing his efforts to get free from the bonds even though he knew they wouldn't budge. He had tried often enough before.

Faces appeared in the darkness, shadowy, like whirling smoke, forming grimaces and expressions. They surrounded him, talking and laughing across each other, the cacophony of mockery and provocation causing his ears to hurt.

"Aw, at least not all at once, you sons of bitches", Dean groaned, squirming under the onslaught.

"I don't like this, let's pull him under again." Doctor Ollis watched Dean with a concerned expression and shook his head.

Sam was frozen to the spot.

He had sat for five days, had kept vigil over his still brother, day and night, had willed him to stir, to twitch, to give him a fucking sign that he was still there. Sam had called Cas a thousand times, had even visited the hospital chapel in case a better reception might help.

Now, that Dean indeed stirred, twitched, gave Sam that damn sign of life and slapped him with it, the younger brother almost couldn't stand it.

The evening before doctor Ollis had decided to cut back Dean's sedation. When his brother hadn't shown any signs of waking up during the night and this morning Ollis had reassured Sam that Dean would need his time, that everything was under control and normal. However, when morning had become noon Sam had noticed the first traces of helplessness on Ollis' face. And when Dean hadn't so much as frowned in the late afternoon Sam had earned those looks again – those pitiful, sympathetic glances, smiles from the nurses that weren't real smiles at all but distorted grimaces, eyes saying 'I'm truly sorry' and 'Hopefully he'll leave without causing a scene...'

Sam had seen them too often in his life, was sick and tired of them. Which was the reason he hadn't given a rat's ass about them, just had kept staring at Dean's relaxed features, had kept listening to the steadily beeping heart monitor.

It had been him noticing the first movement his brother had made since he had lost consciousness almost one week ago. It hadn't been a frown, no twitch, no flutter of eyelids. It had been a gasp, a soft, uncharacteristically pained gasp that had nothing to do with the breathing tube, and together with the slight but sudden jerk of Dean's head it had shaken Sam to the core.

So much for a restless slumber.

Now the chair Sam had occupied for days stood in the corner of the room, with Sam standing right beside it, forced back by the squadron of nurses with doctor Ollis in the lead who had been summoned by Dean's monitors going crazy.

Ollis motioned at a middle-aged nurse who rushed to Dean's other side and started to fumble with the IV line.

"No, wait", Sam interrupted and took a tentative step forward, "don't."

He had waited so long for Dean to surface, had reached a point close to abandoning hope. Now that his brother indeed started to fight his way back to consciousness, back to him, he wouldn't allow those efforts to be trampled down again. He wouldn't sit there and watch them pump the very shit into his brother that was responsible for his condition in the first place.

"What seems to be the problem, Mr. Larsson?" doctor Ollis asked, looking at Sam with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

"Is this really necessary?" Sam queried, eyes darting from the doctor to his restless brother, "To sedate him again?"

"In my opinion, yes, it is. He's going to hurt himself. He's just too agitated for someone waking up from a coma."

"Yeah, I get that, but..." Sam let out a desperate sigh, "how about we wait? He's been through a lot, I can't blame him for being agitated." Phillip would have been really helpful right now.

"I understand that, Mr. Larsson..."

"It's Sam", the younger Winchester cut Ollis short, trying hard not to grit his teeth, "just...Sam."

"Well, Sam, I can imagine Dean's been through a lot, concerning what he did to himself, that's why I'm trying to be easy on him. We're going to pull him under again, wait until he settles down and try again without cutting the sedation back too fast."

That approach again. Doctors always have only the best in mind, right?

"Look, let me try, okay? Maybe I can calm him...if I fail we can still use the sedation."

"Sam, I don't think..."

"Please."

Actually Sam didn't want to beg anymore. He was done with doctors and hospitals and people thinking only they're way the the best way to handle Dean. But if he didn't pull himself together now he likely would be kicked out of here, too, and that was something Sam wasn't going to risk. This was his second chance. And he would sure as hell grab it and never let go.

Doctor Ollis held Sam's gaze before he exhaled forcefully and signaled the nurse at the drip to let it go.

"Okay then. You have fifteen minutes. If he doesn't show any signs of waking or his agitation intensifies I'm going to take charge again."

Sam's only answer was a determined nod.

Memories thudded into him with a force so vicious Dean cried out with every impact, the pain almost as unbearable as the memories themselves.

Skin being torn apart. His, not someone else's. Blood, everywhere, turning the floor into a dark glistening puddle. Not the blood of a stranger. Terrible pain, agonizing grunts and sobs. Not of some poor replaceable fellow. But his.

"What have I done...", he choked out, "what the fuck have I done...how could I've been so damn stupid..." The choked voice turned to a hoarse panting before Dean took a sharp, deep breath and screamed, in rage, in despair, in sorrow. His voice reverberated from invisible walls, the cackling around him grew even louder, the laughing grimaces dancing around him like witches celebrating a Walpurgis Night.

He didn't care if he was crying his heart out right here and now. He had made the biggest mistake ever. Being down here meant he was dead. No one had come for him, no one had found him in time to prevent him from bleeding out. He had himself been lead astray, had fallen for Mike's words. He should have known where this would put him, that it was this place he would wake up again to.

I'm sorry, Sammy. I hope you're not ashamed of me for going out like this.

When Dean suddenly felt a cold hand on his shoulder he jerked violently, trying to recoil with all his might.

Sam pulled his hand away with a startled gasp as if he'd just touched a hot stove top. The stifled squeal from one of the nurses at the other side of the room told him that the hospital staff hadn't been prepared for the ferocious jerk of Dean's body either.

He didn't know if it just had been coincidence or if Dean's reaction had been indeed caused by Sam touching his shoulder. He wished for the latter. Because it would mean that he'd be able to reach his brother.

Sam leaned closer, his eyes searching Dean's features. They weren't slack and peaceful anymore. But there was no real expression either.

"Dean", he tried, gently gripping his brother's shoulder once more, "hey, you there? Time to wake up, man."

To be continued...