"We gotta wrap this up now, Sam. Get you home. Get you safe. You with me?" Dean stared into his brother's eyes.
No response.
"Sam! You with me?"
Was that a nod? Dean thought it was. "Good. Hang on little brother."
Dean picked Sam up by sliding arms under the younger boy's shoulders and knees and lifting him effortlessly. "That's it, dude. You're off salads for a month. Nothing but lots of empty calories and heartburn in your future." He made his way carefully over to the attic steps.
"Danny!" he called down.
When a shadowy figure holding a silver knife stepped into view, Dean continued. "We're coming down."
Dean carefully maneuvered his brother down the narrow steps and onto the landing below where Danny waited, standing lookout.
"Grab the duffle?" Dean gestured to his shoulder, as Danny obliged.
"Is he okay?" Danny asked, staring down at the younger man, lying motionless in Dean's arms.
"Yeah. He's okay. Just a little out of it. Come on. Let's get the hell out of here. This place gives me the heebies."
"Right behind you." Danny replied.
"Hey, keep that knife ready, 'kay?"
"Yeah."
The small group exited the broken-down farmhouse cautiously, never letting their guards down. They made it to Dean's Impala and to Ron who stood beside it, a matching knife gripped tightly in his fist. He'd seen the trio coming from the moment they'd stepped out the door, and he had the back door open, waiting. He stared at Sam as Dean approached the car and began gently tucking the boy inside it.
"Is Sam okay?" He questioned.
Dean climbed back out. "Yeah, yeah. He's good. Let's get the hell out of here, and we'll meet up back at Sam's apartment." He started to slide behind the wheel, but Ron stayed him with a touch. "No hospital?" he inquired.
"Not unless we have too. No. I took a glance at Sam before I brought him down. I think he'll be fine recovering at your place if you're okay with that?" Dean hoped he was, because no way in hell was he subjecting Sam to another hospital if he didn't have to.
The older man stared at Dean for a moment and then nodded. He stepped back as Dean revved up the Impala, and he and Danny sprinted for his truck.
Dean was anxious to get Sam back to the loft and get him out of those foul clothes and bandaged up, but he crept in behind Ron's truck when it pulled up next to a cluster of trees about a half-mile out. When Danny jumped out, Dean rolled his window down.
"What?"
Danny nodded his head toward the outline of a shiny black car hidden behind the trees. "Sam's car." He explained. "Dad spotted it when we drove past an hour ago. Think he has the keys still?"
Dean looked back at his brother's form stretched across the backseat, seemingly asleep, and made a decision. "Check the front wheel well." he told Danny. "If Sam had a spare, that's where it would be. If not, just leave it. I can hot wire it tomorrow."
Danny grinned, "Hell, I can hot wire it tonight, Dean. See you back at the house."
Dean rolled up his window, "Hunh." he snorted, impressed. "That guy sort of remind you of somebody, Sammy?" He asked. "I bet he has a Metallica collection too, hunh?"
Dean pulled out ahead, but it wasn't long until Ron and Danny caught up to him. The small caravan pulled up in front of the garage around 9 pm, and Dean wasted no time untangling his brother's lanky form from the confines of the back seat and hauling him upstairs. At the top of the steps, Danny already had the door open, and Ron was already inside, making up Sam's bed.
Dean placed his brother gently on the soft quilt and stepped back to remove his own coat and to let Ron and Danny move in for a moment.
Danny sat gingerly down on the side of the bed, "Sam." He whispered. "Sam, you with us?"
"D-Dean?"
"No, it's Danny. Dean's right here too. So is dad."
Sam's eyes opened, "Dad? Dad's here?"
Dean closed his eyes and willed his heart to keep beating.
Danny swallowed, "No Sammy. My dad. Ron. I'm sorry, buddy."
"Ron?"
"Right here, son." Ron answered from the foot of the bed. "I'm right here."
Sam's eyes wandered from Danny to Ron and back again, he smiled sadly. "I thought Dean was here … I - I had a dream. 'bout Dean …" he closed his eyes and swallowed.
"I'm here, Sam." Dean moved forward and sat down in the place Danny had just vacated to make room for him. He picked up his brother's cold hand and rubbed it. "Sammy, I'm here."
Sam's eyes flew open again and centered on Dean, and Dean could tell he was seeing him for the first time all over again.
"Dean?" his eyes welled up instantly. His throat was working but only a choked sound came out."You're here?" he whispered, staring. And then suddenly, he was full-on crying - big, embarrassing sobs that tore his breath away and made his already injured throat scream anew.
"I didn't think you'd come … wouldn't ever find me even if you did. And then, and then you did, except it wasn't you and you were so mad at me, Dean." Sam's eyes became saucers, and he clutched frantically at his brother's sleeve. "Y-you had your .45, and you s-said I was too broken to ever fix."
Dean stared at his brother in horror, suddenly regretting again that he'd finished that blue bastard off so easily.
"You … you put the barrel up under my chin. And you …. and you …" Sam was pleading with Dean.
"Sam …" Dean said, brokenly, shaking his head.
"And you ...laughed." Sam stared at Dean like he was going to throw up, and Dean was sure if he did, he wouldn't be the only one.
Dean gathered his brother up into another hug and rocked him gently. It seemed life these days could never have too many chick moments. "That never happened. Sam. I swear. Those were hallucinations. That blue bastard put in them your head."
Sam sobbed into his brother's shoulder. "I knew. I knew it wasn't real. But, damn. It felt real, Dean. Every time you'd come, and you'd ... do things, and every time I knew it wasn't true - wasn't you. But it just … it hurt so much." More sobs.
Dean cried alongside him, hating the djinn for hurting his baby brother and using his own face to do it.
"It felt so real." Sam whispered, and suddenly went limp.
"Sam? Sammy?" Dean shook him gently. He pulled away to look at his brother and found only slack features.
Panic.
"Sam!" He reached desperately for a pulse, and relaxed a bit when he found one - surprisingly strong for all his brother had been through in the past week. He suddenly noticed Ron and Danny hovering, concerned, and he tried to reassure the two men who'd willingly gone into the bowels of hell to help his brother.
"He's okay. Pulse is strong." Dean placed him gently back on the pillows. "I think he's just exhausted." He wasn't sure how to frame his next question.
"Uh, listen," He stammered. "I should probably get him cleaned up now … and."
But Ron just clapped his son on the shoulder and turned to leave. "Right. Well, you know where to find us if you need us, right, son?"
Dean nodded.
"I'll go scare us up some vittles and some clean bedding, and we'll be back over in a bit?" Ron ended the sentence with a question mark, trying not to impede on Dean's time alone with his brother or with Sam's privacy.
Dean nodded again and rose to face the two men. "Hey, uh, thanks …"
Danny smiled, sensing Dean's discomfort. "No worries." He replied. "Sam sort of grows on you, you know?"
Dean nodded, eyes watering.
"We'll be back." Ron added, as the two made their exit and pulled the door closed behind them.
Dean stared down at his little brother in silence, studying every angle, every detail. This time yesterday, he'd been sure that the next time he saw Sam, it would be to bury him. Dean almost couldn't believe that he had Sam back whole - or close enough to it. He had searched for so long, butted up against so many dead ends and so many closed doors that he'd begun to believe today would never come - that maybe he and Sam didn't get a happy ending after all.
He'd given up ever having Sam in his life again, ever hearing his wide-open laughter when he really got going, ever feeling Sam's hand land comfortingly on his shoulder exactly when Dean needed it the most, ever again having the privilege of taking care of his little brother. It had been Dean's job for so long that he had felt completely lost without it - like he'd been forced into early retirement with a fishing pole in his hand when all he really wanted to do was report for active duty.
All that was behind them now like a bad dream, and Dean simply couldn't believe it. He never got happy endings like this - not ones with all the ends tied up neatly in a shiny bow. Not ones where the bad guy died, the good guy lived, and the other guy got his brother back - Dean never got those.
Ever.
And as he began peeling foul clothes off the boy who was the better half of himself, he braced silently for the other shoe that he knew was eventually going to fall.