AN: Well I've finished first yr of uni - yay go me :) So new chapter. Hopefully this is okay. This is unbeta'd as will the rest of the chapters give or take a paragraph or two but I wanna thank MissMe113 for all the beta'ing she did do for this fic. I am very appreciative of her help :)
TWO WEEKS AFTER THE ANGELS FELL
"De'n."
He tried to open his heavy-set eyes but they wouldn't obey. Panic crawled through his body. Sore muscles, stiff joints. Last thing he remembered was...the church? Falling angels. No. Dean promising...Dean-
"Sam, it's alright," the voice said.
Dean. Thank God.
"I-" Jesus, did that one word hurt like bitch or what? Add sandpapery throat to the list of his broken body bits.
Vaguely to the right of him he heard movement. The itch of chair legs against the carpet. A change in air pressure above him. Warmth settling by his side.
"Take your time."
Hands held his face. Fingers gently prying his eyes open. The figure before him swam blurrily in his vision.
Sam tried to talk again. Mouth opened to let out a sound but instead letting out a wheezy breath. His ribs tightened painfully, air forced out of his lungs without consent.
"Whoa…easy." With arms braced against his back, he fell against Dean's shoulder. "Want some water?" At the mention of water, a small drop of saliva coated his tongue, teasing his body as if he was lost in the desert and imagining an oasis. He nodded letting Dean ease him back gently onto the bed.
Vision still blurry he lifted his hand to take the cup only to grasp at thin air. He let out a frustrated groan.
Dean stayed by his side. "You can have your independence later." Sam's lips closed around the tip of the straw and...oh dear lord, water never tasted so good. He took a few long pulls, wishing that someone would invent a never emptying cup.
"Hey!" The straw slipped out - water disappearing.
"Bitch-face already?" Dean placed the cup on the bedside table. "You'll upchuck drinking that fast...probably crack another rib while at it."
Cracking ribs? What the hell happened to him? He blinked. "W-wha-," he rasped.
Dean just grinned at him, waving a hand in vague dismissal for the time being.
He tried to smile back but it seemed that drinking had taken up all of his energy. What he wanted to do was not fall asleep. To stay awake, listen to Dean fill him in on everything that happened. Instead, he felt his eyes begin to close.
No...not now.
He felt Dean's hand on his shoulder. "It's okay."
Sam shook his head. "No-"
"Go to sleep."
"Slept t'much," Sam said.
"You've woken up about three times already."
"No…"
Dean's phone blared loudly. Sam tried to hide his wince but his brother caught it and sighed apologetically. "Hey."
Tuning out of Dean's conversation with whomever, Sam focused on his hands in front of him, still fighting the desire to close his eyes. Experimentally clenching and unclenching them, a small niggle of apprehension entered his mind as he watched his left hand twitch and curl slowly like a claw, but going no further.
"Text me details. I'll be out as soon as I can." It took a moment for Sam to realise that Dean was talking to him. "...Cas. May have to leave for a bit. Sam? You hearing me?"
"Huh?" Another twitch.
"What's wrong?" Dean's eyes zeroed in on his hand.
"Nothin'."
Wrong answer. Dean grabbed his wrist lightly and curled his fingers inwards. For a minute, Sam's vision turned white. "Shit." Opened eyes revealed Dean shaking his head. "I'm calling Rory down to take a look at you."
Sam defaulted to the automatic Winchester response. "'m fine."
"Sure you are," Dean replied. He waved Sam's hand a little. "Because this is totally normal." He placed the hand onto the blanket and tucked him in. As in fluffing pillows and pulling blankets up to his neck. Last time that happened had been...somewhere between the second and third trial?
A puzzled frown must've crossed his face but Dean seemly ignored him bar his eyebrows drawing together.
"I'm gonna have to head off for a bit. Charlie's here and so is Kevin. I'm a phone-call away man."
Sam's eyes closed before Dean left the room.
There was short gaspy breathing coming from the corner of the room. Slowly cracking an eye open Sam watched as Charlie bounded over to him barely preventing herself from hugging him.
"Sam! Oh thank god," she said.
"How long," Sam coughed, "was I out?"
"Dunno...it's been like ten hours since Dean left." She pointed to a figure near the door. "That's Rory, he...patched you up." There was something odd in her voice...a lie. Sam frowned. At this point Rory came and stood close to Charlie.
"I'm glad to see you awake - maybe Dean will finally slow down." Rory gently moved Charlie aside. "Ok sweet'art. Maybe I can look over our patient now. I promise, plenty of time to jabber later."
...Rory looked like Garth.
Looking mildly put out, Charlie grabbed his hand before he could even begin to protest and squeezed gently. Sam braced himself for the dancing vision and hot searing pain he had experienced earlier, but it never came. When his hands were released he quickly clenched and unclenched his fists, confusion never leaving his face until Rory called out to him.
"Talk to me Sam." Rory said, checking his eyes.
"'m' fine." What the hell was going on? Surely no doctor could be that good. His hand was perfectly ok, fingers wiggling freely, knuckles no longer tight like a wound-up toy.
A chuckle drew his attention. "Been told to ignore those words."
With one last wiggle, Sam rolled his eyes. "Ignore Dean."
"Voice'll be stronger soon. Hands working alright? Don't worry if things aren't working like they used to. You been through a mighty shock. Some parts come online faster than others."
"Wanna hunt." He admitted that it sounded completely ridiculous, but with a war going on, even in this slightly broken state, there was no way that he would leave Dean and other hunters out there to bear the brunt of whatever was coming.
"I like the eagerness." That sounded promising, until Rory looked seriously at him and said: "You ain't hunting anything bigger than an ant for another two months give or take."
Letting out a rush of breath, he slumped back in defeat. Call it what you will, but for all but ten seconds he was silent until Winchester stubbornness caused him to open his mouth to protest.
Ignoring him, Rory just smiled tending to his knees.
Bastard.
Charlie wandered in later, phone in hand sounding mildly annoyed. "Yeah...no look he's okay...yes I know...I'm not an idiot Dean...okay cool your jet's Mr-"
Sam grabbed the phone ignoring how Charlie's mouth dropped open and unaware of the soft look that entered her eyes at his action. "Dean?"
"You good Sammy - how the hand?" Dean sounded off. Like he was checking for something that was wholly dependent on Sam's next response.
He shot Charlie a questioning look, hoping that could see past her flimsy - who was she kidding - defences. Damn it, maybe Dean had been coaching her, because all she returned his questioning look right back at him. "'S'alright." He fiddled with the bedcover. "Find Cas?" There was silence at the other end of the phone.
A short quick breath.
Oh.
The small voice that spoke didn't sound like Dean's. "No."
"Wait, De-"
The line went dead.
Charlie looked at him sympathetically. "Hang up on you?" She patted his shoulder. "Don't worry he does that to everyone now."
?_?
Dean returned from chasing empty leads, and walked into the basement, kicking Crowley's shin lightly to wake up the dozing demon. "Just thought you should now, Sam woke up." Crowley's eyes opened to a slit. "Love what you did to the face."
"That boy shows promise."
"Kevin?" A little tendril of anger swept through him having connected who probably spilled the beans on Sam's previous condition.
Crowley cricked his neck, rolled his shoulder and looked up at Dean. "Now about Sam...riddle me this. How? That little piece of demon had enough human suffering to last a few hundred lifetimes. With Sam's body, as broken as it was, given enough time it would have killed him...who knows, maybe even changed him.."
Dean didn't deign that with an answer.
"I take it that Castiel is still out of the picture." Dean scowled. "Aw don't be like that. You know I mean no offense. But I guess, for compared to all the things I've done…I mean, at least my boyfriend didn't break heaven."
"What are you talking about?" Number one on his to-do list cut the tongue of the asshat talking to Crowley.
"I'm sorry, so Garth was lying when he told me that angels fell from the sky?" Amendment to the list: cut Garth's tongue out and sew it into the mouth of that fucking puppet, Mr Fizzles.
Instead of taking the bait he spoke of what he had started to observe. "You're different."
Either Crowley was graciously - as if - letting the angel matter drop, or Dean had actually managed to get an edge on him. "What?" the demon asked.
"You're more...you - like. More douchebag Crowley than tortured-soul Crowley."
It was as if a light dimmed in Crowley's eyes. ".No, think of it more as resettling into a personality. Crowley 2.0, not so hell bent but with a little extra bite or sass. Speaking of sass, do you get cable here? I need to catch up on Girls."
"Like the TV show? Great." He was starting to get weirded out.
"Yeah yippee for me. I have a conscious. You try sleeping with over forty-thousand years of memories to haunt you...I'm gonna miss not feeling guilty."
Taken aback by the sudden sharing and caring Dean took a step back. "Right…"
Crowley looked back down to his feet, requesting in a small plaintive voice. "Go check on my Marnie, Squirrel."
Wait - what the fuck? "That'd better not be code," he muttered walking away and turning to watch as he closed the doors.
Crowley smiled back at him like he could see inside his soul. "I meant, my Sam."
Well shit.
It had taken most of his will power not to slash Crowley's throat open at the last comment. His rationale included: Kevin should get first dibs on the bastard because after all, Crowley did probably kill Mrs Tran, once Sam was back to his prissy OCD-state he wouldn't want to scrub blood out of concrete - though he'd probably make Dean do it, whilst lecturing him with his bitch-face firmly in place, and finally, Crowley could be useful as leverage, information, bait, a sacrifice…he was gunning for the last one.
Finally making it to Sam's room he barged in only to be confronted with Sam glaring over the edge of his bed. "Hey." He received nothing but a little huff. "I'm sorry?" he tried. Sam rolled onto his back.
"Hey."
And, Gods, if he didn't feel depressed before, he certainly felt it now. "What's the matter?"
Sam looked at him. "You sure that doctor's any good?"
"Yeah, got you up and running - well, I say running…why? You look like he clipped your wings or something?"
Sam shrugged. "Said I can't hunt for a couple of months."
With the way his brother was acting it was as if he'd been told that he'd have to retire for good, and kill a puppy to seal the deal. He wanted to roll his eyes - Sam always did have a flair for the dramatic. "That's okay. Good thing we got a permanent base."
"What - no it isn't!" The vehemence almost startled him. "Shit, I mean," he huffed, "there's a war going on, and I can't sit here being useless."
"At least you've regained the power of your voice. Was wondering when the bitching would start. And Sam, you should take the time to heal up right. I can't have you running around at fifty percent only for it go to the crapper and end up worse than before."
Sam rolled his eyes. There was a lot of eye rolling going on these days he noted. "Dean….I was thirsty and the jug slipped." He walked around to see the plastic jug lying in a dark spot that squelched under foot.
"Clumsy."
Sam glared at him without heat. "Asshole."
?_?
"James-" Castiel's back stiffened. "You're packing a bag?"
"Yes."
"You're leaving."
"Yes, I feel like it's time to move on." He folded his shirt and placed it gently in his backpack. The decision was not made in haste - only a few ours old, but considered ever since Dean had walked out of the church. He wasn't going to go to the Winchester's yet, that much he knew for sure.
Peter looked at him sceptical. "Where will you go?"
He answered truthfully. "I don't know."
It seemed like Peter wanted to say more but Castiel took his hand and shook it, like he had observed many humans do before him. Peter smiled still looking uncertain. "Well...if you every need anything your know where to find me."
"Thank you...for everything." If he was being honest with himself, he felt uneasy, but reasoned that it was for the best. He could feel himself becoming comfortable and whilst there was nothing wrong with security, he could never let himself lose sight of the events that had preceded his human condition. "I don't believe that I can repay your kindness, but rest assured that you will have a place in heaven."
A wry smile lit Peter's face. "Keep in touch James, that's all I ask."
?_?
"My little brother's growing up." Dean waved the plate of food in front of his face. "You've graduated to solids."
"Do I get a certificate? Cap and gown?" He pursed his lips. "This celebration sucks."
"For you maybe. I brought myself pie - that's cause for celebration any day of the week." Dean placed dinner on the blankets over Sam's lap.
Sam looked down at the mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables, off to the side swimming in gravy was a small steak. His stomach rolled. Cautiously he picked up a fork and began shifting food around the plate. "Dude, did you really cut up my meat?" he imagined his face was mostly horrified.
His brother snorted. "Charlie did it. Don't worry...she did Kevin's too."
Neither of them spoke for a while, instead content to eat in silence. Except...Dean was fidgeting, shooting him glances. "Do I have gravy on my nose or something?"
"Uh...I gotta question for you." Sam looked, curiosity getting the better of him. "In the church, what happened between you and Crowley?"
"Nothing I haven't already told you. I injected him, he was an ass, son of a bitch bit me and took a chunk outta my arm." The muscle beneath his arm twitched, still bandaged where a mouth sized crater was slowly healing over. "Abadon came, I lit her up. You then-"
"Yeah okay I know the rest."
"Why?"
"I visited Crowley. He called you his Marnie-"
"Oh, right, some character from some show. It was after I torched Abadon. I think he was grateful." Silence. "What Dean?"
Dean seemed to process this information. "You best friends?" he asked waggling his eyebrows.
"Gross, Dean, you know what? Bite me."
"In the other arm?" he joked. Sam let out a weak laugh. "Piss off you ass."
Again, they descended into silence. Sam gave up on his dinner managing only a quarter of the mash. Everything was so…fuck, there wasn't even a word to describe it. He felt like shit. He'd condemned the world for the forgiveness of his brother. It's ok…it's got to be ok.
Dean sighed, pointedly looking at him. "Don't think about it."
His big brother could make a living off being a mind reader.
"We...we did the right thing...yeah?" God he hated how small his voice had turned out as he reached the end of the question. "If I kept going hell would be sealed and, well, there would be less demons screwing up people's lives."
"If you kept going, you would've died Sam." The weight of Dean's hand settled gently on his shoulder. "You seem to keep forgetting that."
"But Dean-"
"But nothing Sam, not taking that final step was a good thing, and I don't care what you say because to me, it will always be a good thing." Dean's voice was tinged with a hinge of desperation, and Sam was shaken gently as if to reiterate. "We are awesome. When shit's broken, we fix it. Do you hear me?"
Sam tilted his head slightly. "We fix it," he repeated quietly with a little nod. He allowed a little grin as Dean smiled in return but his feeling of peace began to drift as Dean looked about ready to leave. "I can fix washing machines you know?" Where the hell did that come from? Dean blinked once. Don't look at me, I don't' get it either. Maybe I'm still slightly out of it. "I'm just saying."
He watched Dean's mouth drop open slightly in confusion before he laughed loudly. "Shit really? Nodding his head, he felt a pang of loss as Dean's hand slipped off his shoulder. "I wish you had told me that sooner, ours is dying."
"I'll fix it as soon as-"
"You get better." Dean said sternly. "Any sooner and there'll be hell to pay."
Ha-ha. "That's not very funny."
Dean shrugged but Sam could tell from the crinkle in the corners of his eyes that he found the saying amusing. "It's a little funny."
AN: So I hope this is okay. Leave reviews, concrit, queries - promise they'll be answered :) Thank you :D