Contact, ch. 5

For Kathy. A slightly belated merry Christmas, friend. :)

xxxx

Dean talked to Sam until his brother's eyes closed completely. Sam's expression had never changed, but he'd remained fixated on Dean, so Dean was hopeful there was something behind the disturbing blankness.

With a sigh, Dean leaned back in his chair, letting his head rest on the not-particularly-comfortable edge of the rear cushion. He'd forced himself to stay upright and alert while he'd talked to his brother, and while it hadn't taken Sam long to fall back asleep, the exertion had worn Dean out. Plus the talking hadn't made his throat feel any better. His own eyes slid shut.

"Hey, man." A hand on his shoulder woke Dean from the doze he'd fallen into.

Michael patted him gently, and Dean saw that Dr. Arnold was standing by Sam's bed. Jake was by the door, obviously trying to stay out of the way in the small room. But he held out a Coke, and Dean heaved himself out of his chair to reach out and take it gratefully.

Dr. Arnold gave him a sympathetic glance before turning his attention back to Sam. "I hear this one's showing some signs of waking up."

Dean twisted the top off the Coke and took a careful sip. The cold soda felt great on his throat, but the carbonation was tricky if he drank too quickly. He swallowed and answered the doctor. "Yeah. He actually had his eyes open for a little while."

"Did he speak?" The older doctor pulled a small penlight out of his pocket.

"No. Just watched me."

"Did he seem to recognize you?" The doctor lifted one of Sam's eyelids and flicked the light into and away from the eye. Sam didn't stir.

"I think so?" Dean said it like it was a question, but realized it really wasn't. "I mean, yeah. I'm pretty sure he did."

"Did it seem like he wanted to speak?"

"No. He didn't. Which was weird. He just stared at me."

"But you still felt like he knew you," the doctor confirmed, checking reflexes with quick assurance.

"Yeah."

The doctor nodded, frowning thoughtfully at Sam. "Let's see if we can rouse him." He stepped back slightly from the bed. "You try, Dean. Let's see if he'll respond to you. My manhandling him just now didn't seem to have much effect."

Dean stepped forward, glancing somewhat self-consciously at the doctor and Michael. He put his Coke to the side and laid a hand on Sam's arm, shaking it. "Hey, Sammy. Time to wake up."

There was no response, so Dean jiggled Sam's elbow a little more forcefully. "Dude. Wake up." He looked at the doctor. "I'd usually rub a knuckle over his sternum, but with his ribs…." He and Sam probably had more experience trying to rouse each other out of unconsciousness than most people.

Dr. Arnold nodded. "Try being a little louder."

"Come on, Sammy. Get up." He pitched his voice louder and put a degree of urgency into his tone that he hoped would translate in Sam's unconscious mind to Dean's being in danger. He hated to do that, but they both usually responded more quickly if they thought – even subconsciously – that the other was in trouble.

Sam stirred.

"Good," said Dr. Arnold encouragingly.

"Wake up, Sam." This time Dean made it an order. "Open your eyes."

Sam's head turned to his brother, and his eyes struggled open. He peered at Dean, and Dean couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Hey."

Sam blinked heavily.

"Hi, Sam. I'm Dr. Arnold."

Sam's eyes flicked to the doctor, then back to Dean.

The doctor took Sam's hand. "Sam," he said trying to recapture his attention. "Can you squeeze my hand?"

But Sam's attention didn't waver from Dean, and the doctor shook his head. "Come on, Sam. Squeeze my hand, if you can."

Frowning, the doctor let go of Sam's hand and moved to the end of the bed near Sam's unbroken leg. He moved the covers to the side and put a hand under the arch of Sam's foot. "Push down, Sam." No response. "Sam. Push down with your foot." Still nothing.

Dean felt his anxiety starting to rise. He looked at Michael for some sort of clue as to what this meant.

Michael was studying Sam thoughtfully. His eyes went from Sam to Dean and then to the doctor. "Have Dean try."

Dr. Arnold's eyebrows went up, but he nodded his agreement. "Dean."

Confused, Dean shook his head.

"You tell Sam to squeeze your hand," the older man instructed. "Let's see if he responds to you. He did on waking up."

Uncertain, Dean slipped his fingers into Sam's loosely curled palm. He opened his mouth to tell Sam to squeeze, but Sam's hand had already tightened on Dean's. He looked at Michael, who had started to smile ruefully, eyes coming to Dean's.

"I wondered," said Michael. "Ask him to squeeze."

Dean cleared his throat. "Squeeze, Sammy."

Sam did.

Dr. Arnold made a considering face. "See if he'll push down for you." He moved his hand back around Sam's right foot.

"Press down with your foot, Sam," Dean commanded.

Again, Sam responded.

"Good." The doctor looked pleased, flipping the blanket back over Sam's foot. "He's got some nice strength."

Sam's grip on Dean's hand hadn't eased, and Dean didn't try to move away. "What's wrong with him? Why isn't he responding to you?" He looked from Sam, still watching him closely, back to the doctor. "And why isn't he talking?" He looked at Michael. "He should be talking."

The older doctor came around to the side of the bed where Dean was standing. He sighed. "On the talking, you should know that left side brain injuries like Sam's suffered often result in language difficulties. Sometimes there's an issue with understanding verbal language and also with speaking – making the connection between what the brain wants to say and what the mouth actually expresses. So that may be part of what's happening here. But he's also only just awake. The fact that he recognizes you and is responding is good news, Dean." He paused. "Why only you? I honestly don't know right now. But it may be simply that you're the constant for him in this situation. I think Michael said y'all haven't seen each other in a long time – so you were the only one there before the accident who is here now." Dr. Arnold shrugged lightly to indicate uncertainty. "Brain injuries can be tricky. We need to give him some time, OK?" He reached out and patted Dean's arm. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Dean let out a shaken breath. He nodded. "So what do we do from here?"

The doctor eyed the chart he was holding and the medications indicated on the white board across from the bed. "I'm going to make some adjustments to Sam's meds, see if we can get him a little more aware. But even so, encourage him to rest. When he's awake, talk to him, but I wouldn't expect him to respond. At least not right away." He looked at Michael. "You talk to him, too. And you." The doctor looked over at Jake who was still by the door even as he scribbled some instructions on the chart. Then he eyed the leg in its traction. "We'll also need to get him up on that leg soon."

Dean's eyebrows went up. He looked at the cords and pulleys that were holding Sam's leg suspended above the bed. He knew from experience that even with severe injuries, doctors often wanted patients up and around, but a compound fracture of the femur? That was going to hurt like hell.

"The sooner we can get him mobile, the better. That contraption," he indicated it with his chin, "is to keep the leg stabilized right after the surgery, but we can unhook it pretty easily. Sam needs to start putting weight on his leg to get the rehab going." He gave Dean a serious look. "He's got a long road ahead of him."

Dean nodded an acknowledgment of that.

"I'll check back in later," the doctor said and left the room.

Dean glanced down at Sam. Sam's eyes were still on Dean, but only vaguely; when Jake moved up next to Michael at the end of the bed, Sam's attention flicked to the other men, resting there a little longer than it had previously. His eyelids were slipping closed, and Dean saw Jake smile.

"You should go on back to sleep, Sammy," Jake said gently. And to their surprise, Sam's eyes shut obediently.

All three men exchanged somewhat hopeful expressions.

"Huh," said Michael.

"Yeah," agreed Dean. Now he wasn't exactly sure what to do, standing there awkwardly with Sam's hand in his.

"You should probably get some sleep, too," Michael said. "In a bed. I can give you a ride home."

"Or do you want to just hold hands with Sam a little longer," Jake suggested with a grin.

On a growl, Dean tugged his fingers out of Sam's now lax grip.

Michael gave his brother a swat to the back of his head. "Leave him alone." He reached for the jacket Dean had dropped over the back of one of the chairs, tossing it to him. "You'll be here for a while?" he asked his brother.

Jake soothed the sting of the slap he'd received and pouted dramatically for a beat. "Yeah. Aunt Jo texted and said they'd gotten caught in the traffic from a pretty big accident on I10; I figure they may not be here until nine or so. I'll stay until they come by." He picked up his ever-present backpack and dropped it in one of the chairs.

Dean pulled his coat on, felt an odd, unwelcome tug of anxiety at the thought of seeing Jo and Luke again. "If they aren't going to get here until that late, they should wait until…." He stopped at the exasperated glare from Jake and Michael's disbelieving stare.

"Right," said Jake, nodding. "Mom will be happy to just go straight to bed and then maybe sleep in before she sees Sam in the morning." His voice dripped with disdain.

Michael shook his head wonderingly and gave Dean a condescending pat on his shoulder. "It's so cute that you think Aunt Jo and Luke—and Tommy for that matter—won't be on their way over here the minute after they've seen you and how you're doing." He looked at Jake. "It's cute, right?"

"It's pathetic, is what it is," Jake muttered dropping into his chair and unzipping his backpack to pull out his laptop. "Get out," he ordered. "This writing project is due tomorrow, and I have got to get it done," he said grimly.

Dean and Michael obeyed.

xxxx

Jo felt a burning nervousness in her stomach as they pulled into the apartment complex where Michael and Jake lived. The drive had been a nightmare. The accident on the interstate had snarled traffic for hours. It had been tense slow-going, and they were all feeling on edge and travel-grubby.

The good news was that Tommy had had plenty of time to read Pride and Prejudice; the bad news was that Jo had had plenty of time to fret herself into feeling slightly sick. Luke was tight-jawed in the driver's seat, and Jo knew he would have little patience with her if she voiced her uncertainty right now.

Luke found a parking space and turned off the car. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as they all just sat for a moment in relief that the trip was over.

"Okay," he said, uncurling his fingers from their death grip on the steering wheel. "Okay." He sighed again, easing his shoulders down before turning to Jo. "You alright?" he asked. He gave her a knowing look, but smiled. And Jo felt a large portion of the tension she'd been holding onto drain out of her. She shook her head, amazed as always, by the effect his steadiness had on her.

"I am now," she said, and her husband leaned over to press his lips to hers.

There were dramatic gagging noises from their child in the backseat. Tommy's door opened and closed on a slam.

They grinned at each other through the kiss before pulling away. Luke waggled his eyebrows at her. "Mission accomplished," he said.

"Thank you," Jo said, giving him another quick peck. She opened her door.

"For traumatizing Tommy?" Luke asked, getting out on his own side. "Any time."

Jo just smiled at him over the hood of the Suburban and the way Luke returned it told her he knew exactly what she'd meant.

"Tommy," Luke shouted after the boy's retreating back. "Why are you not carrying anything?"

Rolling his eyes, Tommy tromped back to the car.

Jo passed the boy on her way to his brothers' apartment. "I'll send whoever's there out to help with the rest," she said, securing her purse over her shoulder. There were advantages to having three boys – one was not having to do heavy lifting.

The nervousness returned as she approached the door. She had a key, but still she knocked, feeling for some reason that maybe a degree of formality was called for given how long it had been since she'd seen the Winchesters.

"It's open!" she heard from inside, and taking a deep breath, she reached for the handle. But before she could get it, the door swung open, and Michael was standing there.

"Hey!" he said. "Why didn't you just come on in?" He didn't wait for an answer, pulling her into a brief, tight hug. "Is there stuff in the car?" And before she could say anything, he was past her, trotting down the stairs.

Jo stepped farther into the apartment; she'd been here several times since the boys had moved in last spring, and she was familiar enough with the layout to know the living area was straight ahead and the bedrooms were to the left. She wondered where Dean might be if he wasn't at the hospital.

"Hey." Dean was moving slowly toward her from the bedroom hallway. His expression was hesitant, but she could tell he was pleased to see her just the same.

"Hey," she returned, stopping herself from adding "baby" like she would have last time she'd seen him, not wanting to presume, feeling horribly awkward and hating it.

"How was your trip?" he asked. "Jake said you'd hit some traffic?"

"It wasn't too bad," she said. Because it didn't feel bad now that they were here. "How are you feeling?"

He looked exhausted and sick, and he shrugged with a rueful smile. "Not good," he admitted.

He was within reach now, and Jo didn't think, simply stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Dean didn't stiffen, but he did still for a moment before his arms came up to return the embrace. "I don't want to make you sick," he said softly.

"Then don't slobber on me," Jo whispered, more than a little overcome in the moment, tightening her hold on him.

Dean laughed shakily and ducked his head down closer, face pressing briefly into her shoulder.

Jo smiled softly and didn't release him, not ready to let go quite yet. She bit her lip, forcing herself not to say all things that wanted to spill out of her mouth – we've missed you, we love you, don't ever do that again.

"You're blocking the hallway!" Luke's voice startled them apart, and Jo stepped to the side as both her husband and Tommy barreled into the apartment.

Luke dropped the bags he was carrying before moving right into Dean's space with a grin on his face. "It's good to see you, boy!"

The two men exchanged hugs and then Tommy was there.

Jo watched Dean's eyes widen at the sight of the tall – taller than both his brothers and Luke – gangly teenager, just before Tommy engulfed him in a rib crushing hug.

"Dean!"

"Tommy," Dean croaked, breathless from the enthusiastic embrace.

"Don't strangle him, Tommy," cautioned Michael from behind, closing the door as he came in. "He's sick, dude."

"Sorry!" Tommy let Dean go abruptly, and Dean staggered back a step.

''s okay, man," Dean rasped, still eyeing the boy in a kind of wonder. "It's good to see you, too."

"Can we not all just stand in the entryway?" Michael asked a little peevishly.

Laughing, the group shuffled into the main living area, Michael taking a quick detour to drop off bags in the bedrooms.

"Did we wake you up?" Jo asked. He'd been coming from the bedroom and was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and navy hoodie with the white silhouette of a longhorn on it. Jake's clothes, Jo realized.

Dean sighed and shook his head as he eased onto the couch. "Don't worry about it. Everybody's always waking me up. I can't seem to stay awake," he grumbled half-heartedly. Mostly annoyed with himself.

Jo followed Luke into the kitchen to put away the food they'd brought. She started opening and closing cabinets to see what was available.

"How's Sam doing? Any change?" she wondered. The apartment had an open floorplan, and Jo loved being able to be in the kitchen and still be part of what was happening in the living room. When she glanced at Dean, she saw him look to Michael.

"He was awake for a while this afternoon and responded to Dean," Michael answered from where he was sitting on the other end of the sectional. Tommy had dropped down next to his brother and had slouched down low enough that Michael was able to hook an arm around his little brother's neck.

"Can we see him tonight?" Jo asked. "Or is it too late?"

"Oh," said Michael, sliding his eyes to Dean. "You want to see Sam tonight? Even though it's so late?"

"Well, of course, we do," Jo said, confused. Why was he asking her this?

"You don't want to wait until the morning?" Michael asked, tone solicitous. "Maybe sleep in?"

"Shut up," Dean mumbled.

"No. Wait until morning?" Jo frowned at Michael. "What…?"

"Ignore him," Dead said as Michael began to cackle. "He's giving me a hard time, because I didn't think you guys should go up to the hospital after such a long trip." He glared at Michael. "You win, okay?"

Michael thrust his arms into the air.

And Tommy punched him in the stomach.

Rolling her eyes, Jo turned away from the wrestling match that began when Michael retaliated by pushing his little brother over onto the couch and jumping on top of him. It wasn't her furniture they were going to break, so they could do what they pleased.

"Where's Jacob?" Luke asked, closing the freezer door. They'd had a couple of things for the boys that Luke had packed in an ice chest.

Michael couldn't answer, locked as he was currently in a choke hold by his younger brother.

"He's up at the hospital," Dean responded instead. His head was tipped onto the back of the couch and his eyes were closed. He, too, ignored the scrum on the opposite side of the sofa he was sitting on. "He was going to study until you guys got there."

"OK." She looked around the kitchen to make sure they hadn't left it in too much disarray. They hadn't. "I'm going to freshen up a little, then we'll go." There was no pause in the struggle between Michael and Tommy that had relocated to the floor when they'd toppled off the couch. She raised her voice. "You two hear me?"

"We hear you," Michael panted and with a grunt, flipped his brother onto his stomach and sat on him, bending Tommy's arm up so his wrist was between his shoulder blades. Tommy wriggled like crazy, and Michael twisted the arm a little higher.

"Ow!" yelped Tommy. "I give!"

Grinning in satisfaction, Michael let go, pushed himself off his brother and stood. Rumpled, Tommy followed him up, rubbing his arm sullenly.

Jo shook her head at Michael. "Really," Jo disapproved. "How old are you?"

"He started it," Michael shrugged, unrepentant.

Jo huffed. Boys.

She turned to Dean who had been watching everything through heavy-lidded eyes. "Do you want to come?"

Dean sat up from where he'd been slouched, put his hands on the couch cushion like he was getting ready to stand, but Michael was shaking his head. "Unless you're getting up to go back to bed, Dean, you need to stay put."

Dean sighed, back bowing where he sat, struggling, Jo recognized, with whether to make the trip to the hospital or get the rest he must know he needed desperately.

"Seriously, man," Michael said in the soothing, but professionally assertive voice he'd taken to using now when medical matters were at hand. "You have got to sleep. And it's highly unlikely Sam's going to be awake."

Jo crossed to the sofa and sat down next to Dean. She put a tentative hand on his back, felt the muscles under her palm loosen almost imperceptibly at her touch.

"If Sam is awake, we'll tell him you're OK and that you'll be there in the morning," she told him gently.

He turned to look at her, face drawn, weariness in his eyes as he studied her, oddly intent. This close she could see changes in him that she hadn't noticed in their initial greeting by the door. The lines around his eyes had deepened and changed, etching a seriousness into his expression that hadn't been quite so stark before. And there was a dusting of gray interwoven into the slightly lighter hair at his temples that hadn't been obvious at first glance. He looked so worn. It broke her heart.

Of its own accord, the hand that had been on Dean's back moved to his cheek, cupping his face. His eyes slid closed.

"Go to bed, baby." The endearment slipped out, unbidden.

Dean's expression shifted at her words, and just when Jo was about to move her hand, fearful that she'd overstepped, he leaned slightly into her touch. They sat there for just a beat before Dean sighed and laughed shakily as he opened his eyes, looking straight into hers. "Yes, ma'am," he said.

Jo couldn't help the grin. "Good boy."

"I like your pjs," Luke said, moving forward to hold out a hand and pull Dean to his feet.

Dean looked down at the sweatshirt he was wearing and laughed again as he stood. "Yeah. We were overdue on laundry before this mess happened. And Jake, at least," here he gave Tommy a jaundiced stare, "is close enough to my size that I can wear something that won't stink up the place until I can get a load in the washer."

Jo frowned at Michael for not already have gotten Dean's clothes clean.

"It's been a day since he got here!" Michael defended himself. "And it's not like I have to work or anything," he added, though he looked appropriately chastised.

Jo raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fine," Michael muttered. He trailed after Dean, and Jo was satisfied that he'd at least get a load started while they were checking on Sam. Luke and Tommy followed them. Jo hoped vaguely that they'd also get cleaned up before they headed to the hospital.

She took a deep breath in the quiet left behind as all the men left the room, then let it go on a quick prayer of thanks—safely here, reunion with Dean over and so much easier than she'd feared it might be, Sam awake and recognizing his brother.

Jo dug into her purse for toothbrush and toothpaste before heading to the bathroom herself. A quick splash of water on her face and clean teeth, and she'd be ready to go. There was one more Winchester she needed to lay eyes on before she'd be able to sleep tonight.

xxxx