Chapter 2 ~ Reality

Dean thought a lot during the long drive. What had happened, and how? Was his brother even aware that the hospital called him, given that he couldn't, wasn't able to - they'd had to find "Dean Brown's" card in his jeans...

At least Sam wasn't dying...

Dean didn't know what to think about it. He didn't know how to feel about it. What would Sam say when he got there? And what would he say to his little brother, after that fight...

Actually, it had been a pretty stupid fight. Yeah, it was the Apocalypse. Dean had started what Sam finished... finally. A couple of hours before his brother had killed Lilith, it would've made him proud that he did so. Damn freaking angels. Damn demons.

He and his brother were just puppets in the whole breaking-the-seals-thing. The angels had never had any intention of stopping the apocalypse. They wanted it to happen; they wanted the world to burn. It was its destiny.

Dean wasn't that good at talking - ever - and that fight had proved it. Sam had done nothing but apologize: Sorry for being a geek. Sorry for snoring. Sorry for getting up early in the morning. Sorry for using all the hot water. Sorry he went with Ruby. Sorry he killed Lilith. Sorry he wasn't able to get Dean out of Hell. Sorry for letting him down. Sorry for everything.

Dean had just wanted him to stop: Stop apologizing for what was pretty much both of their faults. Stop talking about it. Stop talking about anything else. Stop being around all the time.

Dean hurried into the hospital and up the stairs to the fourth floor nurse's station. His lungs burned from the climb. Slowly but surely, he was getting too old for this shit.

"Dean Brown?" a voice behind him rose.

"Yeah?" he replied, sucking in a deep breath and turning around.

A young woman wearing a nurse's uniform stood there. "Nancy Summers" was written on her badge. She looked at him with big brown eyes, hopeful and friendly.

"Good, you're here. I told Dr. Roberts that we'd found a relative. If you're ready, I'll page him?" she asked hurriedly.

As ready as he ever could be...

"You're the nurse I was talking to - Nancy, right?" he asked with his most charming smile. He was hoping to get some more information out of her, since he wasn't exactly the patient type.

She nodded and moved over to the phone at the station, entering a pager number. "He'll be here in about thirty minutes. He said he'd come in as soon as you arrived."

Dean nodded. "So... in the meantime, you could tell me where Sam's room is." He looked questioningly, glancing over at the nurse's face.

Nancy's eyes narrowed as she looked up, unable to meet Dean's deep green eyes. "I think it's better if you wait for the doctor," she said calmly. "There are only a few members of the staff who go in there."

The hairs on Dean's neck raised and his heart skipped a beat. "Who go in there"... how bad was it?

"Including you?" Dean questioned, frowning.

Nancy nodded. "Me, Dylan and Dr. Roberts," she answered, still not meeting Dean's eyes.

Something had to be horribly wrong. What the hell could've happened in the past nine weeks?

"How long has he been here?" Dean asked, desperately looking for any kind of information.

Nancy looked up. "Nine days. We're glad that we found someone he belongs to. We hoped you were at least a good friend... since he was screaming your name at the beginning."

Screaming his name at the beginning? What the hell?

Had his little brother lost his mind?

After a long, stabbing silence between Dean and the nurse, Dr. Roberts showed up. Telling Nancy to wait for their return, he ushered Dean into his office. Dean took a seat facing the doctor.

Dr. Roberts studied the hunter for a little while before he started to talk. "So... you're Sam Young's 'brother'?" He gritted his teeth. "Can you prove it?"

Dean raised his right eyebrow and leaned forward. "If I wasn't his brother, I wouldn't be here." He slapped his personal ID for "Dean Brown" on the doctor's table. "We're half-brothers," he added, remembering that they had a different ID for Sam.

Dr. Roberts took a long look at the badge before he glanced back at the older Winchester. "I wanted to talk to you before you saw your brother," he started. "Has he ever had any... issues?" he asked, frowning and watching Dean for any suspicious reaction.

"What do you mean, 'issues'?" Dean asked back. Besides drinking demon blood and starting the a-freaking-pocalypse, anyway... The pit in his stomach grew with every second.

"He's never had any issues, physical or mental," he answered.

The doctor nodded and pressed his lips together. "Your brother was brought to us nine days ago. Our paramedics had to sedate him to get him here." He paused again.

"Sedate? Why? What the hell happened?" Dean started to get furious.

"We don't know for sure. The police had a lead on a couple of men who were wanted for several murders across the United States," he began slowly. "When the police went to arrest them, they discovered your brother in the basement, cuffed, bloody and bruised." He wrinkled his face in revulsion, then took a deep breath, shaking his head in sorrow.

"I want to see him," Dean said, beginning to stand up.

Dr. Roberts stopped the Winchester with a raise of his left hand. "I don't know if that's a good idea. He's afraid of everyone and everything. I' m not sure he will recognize you."

Dean's jaw dropped in disbelief and his eyes widened, face growing paler by the second. For a moment he couldn't believe they were talking about his brother.

"That's why just a couple of people are allowed to come near your brother." The doctor paused again, looking at his patient's brother. "How much time has passed since you were last in contact with Sam?"

"About nine weeks," Dean answered, biting his lip. He didn't mention the fight, since he thought it might lessen his chance of seeing his little brother.

"And what was your relationship with him like?" the doctor asked, looking at the older Winchester like he could peer through a wall into his soul.

"We're brothers, okay? We were close. Always. I raised him while our father was out on the road. I changed his diapers, and I watched him when he took his first steps. Are we clear?" Dean's voice rose with every word. "He's my responsibility and I. WANT. TO. SEE. HIM. NOW."

Dr. Roberts lifted his eyebrows, then nodded. He sat there for a moment in his leather chair as if he'd just looked straight into a bear's open mouth full of dangerous fangs.

"I just wanted to make sure that it wouldn't upset him more than he already is," he explained hesitatingly. "It probably may take some time before he recognizes you."

...If he recognizes you...

Dean nodded. "Can we go now?" he asked impatiently.

"I'll send Nancy with you. I think she's made the best connection with your brother." The doctor smiled slightly as they left his office. "She's the only one he's allowed to touch him."

Dean closed his eyes for a second, frowning, unsure of what he'd see.

Nancy was waiting, hope in her eyes, in front of a door with the number 57 on it.

"If he doesn't recognize you," the doctor reminded Dean, "give him all the time he needs, and don't push."

Dean looked into the doctor's bright gray orbs, trying to figure out what he was seeing. Disgust? Sorrow? Hope? Or maybe a mixture of all of them.

"It's dark in there," the nurse warned him. "We've just installed a small light, to help his eyes begin to get used to daylight again." Then she slowly opened the door.

"Sam?" Nancy asked quietly, pausing a moment before opening the door a little bit more. "I'm coming in now. And I have something for you." Her light voice and the way she talked to Sam warmed Dean's heart.

The nurse reached back and grabbed Dean's hand softly, pulling him quietly into the room with her and closing the door behind them.

"It's okay, Sam," she said gently. "I found your brother, hon."

Dean looked around. The bed was empty, seemingly untouched. The blinds were down, not letting even a little bit of the sinking sun in. And the small light in the right-hand corner opposite the door wasn't very bright. It didn't even illuminate half the room.

Nancy let go of Dean's hand and pointed to the left corner of the room. "There's his favorite place," she whispered.

Dean strained his eyes until he was able to make something out in the corner. Something that moved a little bit. At least, he thought he saw something move. He didn't know what to say, what to do. If they were truly talking about his brother, something was horribly wrong. Terribly wrong. This had to be a mistake.

An almost-silent sobbing filled the room as Dean started to move slowly to the corner. "Sam?" he asked, hesitating.

He badly wanted to call his little brother Sammy... but he remembered their fight, the things both of them had said to each other. He just couldn't call him Sammy right now.

"Sam, is that you?" he asked again, stopping about a yard in front of the darkened corner. He knelt down and reached his hand towards the darkness. "C'mon man, say something." Dean could hear the desperation in his voice. "Sam, please."

"He hasn't talked yet," Nancy said. "Not since he's been here. His CT was okay, so we still don't know why..." She stopped and hesitated for a couple of seconds. "It's probably just taking time. The trauma, you know? No one knows how long your brother was locked down in the basement, or what exactly was done to him, other than what we can tell from the bruises and wounds. We do know the oldest fracture had to have happened about seven weeks ago."

Dean's throat tightened, trying to ignore what Nancy was telling him for the moment and just concentrating on his brother.

"Sammy?" he asked gently, narrowing in on the corner a little bit, towards the hiding place in the dark. "It's okay. It's me."

The older Winchester saw a slight movement. Something reached out of the darkness - a hand appeared in the faint light, reaching for Dean's hand. A fast touch, fingertips to fingertips, and then the hand pulled back.

"Sammy...?" Dean frowned. What the hell? His throat tightened and he swallowed hard. He felt tears in his eyes grow, and a giant stone settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew...

...it was Sam's hand.