Contact, ch. 9

A little something for Christmas, for those of you who are still reading and celebrate it. And happy holidays for those who don't!

Thanks to all who have checked in with me and asked about the story. I'm sorry it's been so slow in coming. Special thanks to Lisa, who's helped me stay accountable and been so encouraging!

I think I've got one more chapter in me after this one. We're nearing the end.

xxxx

All Dean could feel was relief as he climbed wearily back into the Suburban. The salt and burn had gone smoothly beyond what he ever could have imagined. And having three otherpeople there to do both the digging up of the body and filling back in the hole had been awesome.

"Don't get in here like that," Luke barked.

Dean flinched and paused, then realized the other man wasn't talking to him, so he dropped his butt onto the seat.

"There are blankets in the back. Put those down before you get in." Luke was scowling at Michael and Jake where they stood by the two open back doors.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jake drawled as he moved to the rear of the Suburban. "Are we going to get your ancient car dirty?" He swung open the doors and reached for a stack of old blankets, then slammed the doors heavily.

"Do you want to explain to your mother why the car reeks of dirt and sweat when she gets in tomorrow?" Luke asked.

Jake was back at the passenger side and tossed a blanket across the bench seat to his brother, who spread it out awkwardly over the bench, trying to get as much covered as he could.

"Would she even be able to smell a difference?" Michael asked, finally getting settled.

"Ha, ha," said Luke, checking to make sure his orders had been followed.

Dean drew in a breath. It smelled like the aftermath of every grave he'd dug since he'd been a teenager – damp earth and sweat and the lingering scent of accelerant.

"Smells like home," he said with a quick grin at Luke, who just grunted and shook his head.

"You want to let Sam know how things went?" Luke asked, starting the engine. "You think he'll be up?"

Dean shrugged. Any other time, he knew Sam would be awake, but given his brother's current medication regimen, he very well might not be conscious. "I should still go by. If he is awake, and I don't go, he'll be pissed."

"Right." Luke put the Suburban into reverse and slung his arm over the back of the seat, turning to check behind them. He eyed the two men in the rear. "And the two of you are going to need to shower before you do anything else."

Dean turned, too, and snorted. It was a chilly night, but Michael and Jake were both drenched with sweat and covered in dirt. He cranked down the window.

"Like we'd planned on anything else," Jake said drily with an eye-roll at his brother.

"I'll drop you off, then come back after I've showered and filled in Jo," Luke told Dean. "That work for you?"

Dean nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

xxxx

Sam was actually awake when Dean entered the room. His eyelids were at half-mast, but they snapped fully open when he saw his brother.

Sam's eyebrows went up. How'd it go?

"Easy-peasy." Dean dropped into the chair closest to the bed.

Eyebrows again. Really?

"Seriously. Emily's two boys showed when we lit her up, and I thought for a second we were going to have a problem, but… She flamed out, and they all disappeared."

Sam nodded. Now his eyebrows drew down as he studied Dean.

Dean sighed. Now Sam was going to be all over making sure he rested. "Luke's coming back for me in little bit." He answered the question he knew Sam was thinking.

Sam tapped once on the tray in front of him. Technically "yes," but also, Dean knew, good. Sam fumbled for the bed controller and lowered the mattress until it was closer to flat.

Dean stood up and reached for the water pitcher. He picked it up and gave it a careful shake. Empty. He waggled it at Sam. "I'm gonna fill this up."

Sam's head moved on the pillow in what Dean took to be an acknowledgement of Dean's words. But Sam was on his way to complete oblivion.

When Dean got back to the room, Sam was fast asleep. He put the water and cup in easy reach, then headed downstairs to wait for his ride.

xxxx

"Your pressure's been steady for a good 48 hours, Sam, so we're going to remove that ICP bolt."

The doctor had been checking Sam's vitals and done some gentle prodding of the tissue around the device.

Jo had turned her face away. She could handle a lot of things, but metal rods stuck through the skull of someone she loved… just, no. For the most part, she'd managed to avoid looking at or thinking about the bolt since they'd gotten here. There'd been glimpses of it, of course – it was hard to ignore completely – but Jo had been able to simply pretend that the device penetrating Sam's cranium wasn't there. She'd endured some mockery for it, sure. But she was okay with that.

"What? Right now?" Jo turned back and focused on the doctor.

"No reason to wait." The doctor smiled at Sam, rewinding the bandage loosely around the bolt site. "I bet you're ready to get rid of that, huh, Sam?"

Sam looked a little queasy, but he nodded gingerly, hand coming up to touch the side of his head.

Jo swallowed heavily and cut her eyes to the doctor again.

The doctor smiled at her, too. "It's a fairly straight-forward procedure; usually takes about five minutes." He moved to the computer to enter something into Sam's electronic chart. "I'll gather up our team. It shouldn't take too long."

It had been inconvenient (to say the least) for Sam to have the bolt attached to the monitor since he'd regained consciousness and been expected to move around some on his own. Jo had watched once when Sam'd forgotten about his tether and tried to get out of bed without the cord being detached from the monitor. He'd been pulled up short, head rocking backward somewhat sharply when he'd reached the end of the line. He'd responded "no" when asked if it hurt – after Dean had stopped laughing (admittedly looking kind of green around the gills), and Jo had gotten her stomach under control – but the experience had made him very careful.

"You okay, sweetie?" Jo asked after the doctor left the room.

Sam tapped once on the table in front of him and gave her a small smile.

"Ready to get it out?"

A more emphatic tap, and Jo laughed. Sam's smile broadened into a grin.

"You want Dean here?" Dean had been worn out from the late hour and activity the night before, and there'd been a general consensus that he'd stay away from the hospital to rest until the next day.

Sam wrinkled his face and shook his head, double-tapping the table, as well, to emphasize his point.

"You sure?"

Sam gave her a look she recognized. From her older two boys it was often accompanied by the words, "You know I'm an adult, right?"

"Fine." Jo settled back with her book. She'd been thinking about going to get some lunch, but if she was going to be in the room when they took that contraption out of Sam's head, she didn't want to risk having anything in her stomach.

Of course, since they were dealing with hospital time, "it shouldn't take too long" translated into "it will be almost two hours."

Jo's stomach rumbled as the team entered the room, and Sam pushed his tray toward her again, prodding her to eat what was left from his own lunch. Jo shook her head and moved away from the bed to give the medical crew plenty of room. And give herself some distance from the grossness. "I'll get lunch after they're done."

Sam shrugged.

"Okay, Sam." The doctor hadn't returned, but the nurse was one who had been helping with Sam over the last few days. "The doctor told you this would be a short procedure, right?"

Sam nodded his head.

"Good." The woman reached for the controls of the bed. "I'm going to lie you down flat, okay?" The other nurse moved around to the other side of Sam and adjusted the cord attaching Sam to the monitor as his position changed.

When Sam was flat, the nurse began to remove the gauze over the wound. Jo looked out the window.

"Okay, Sam, I'm going to unscrew the nut, to loosen the bolt. It may feel a little weird."

Jo returned her attention to Sam, keeping her eyes on his face. His brow crinkled slightly as the woman worked the nut off. But it didn't look like he was in pain.

"Now I'm going to take the probe out. I'm going to count to three and then I want you to breathe out sharply on three. Okay, Sam?"

Brow still wrinkled, Sam tapped once on his leg.

The nurse was familiar with their system, so she nodded. "Good. Here we go: one, two, three."

Sam exhaled sharply and the nurse pulled out the probe. His expression changed again, eyes darting to Jo.

"You okay, baby?" she asked. She couldn't reach his hand with the medical staff on either side of the bed, so she put a hand on his foot.

Sam frowned slightly, lips moving around something he wanted to say, but couldn't get out. He moved his finger up and down one time on the blanket over his lap.

The nurse moved around to catch Sam's eye. "I know it feels a little strange, Sam, but you're doing great, okay?"

Sam tapped again.

"Good. Alright. Next step is getting the screw out. It's in there tight, so it may take me a little while to remove it. I need you to just breathe slowly through it for me."

And that was what Sam did, eyes on Jo, who found herself starting to breathe in concert with Sam, as the nurse worked the screw out of his head. When it was removed, Sam gave a long shuddering sigh.

"One last step here, Sam. Well, I guess, two. We're going to clean around the wound, then stitch you up. It should only take a single stitch, okay? Not too bad. We generally don't give a local anesthetic, though if you really want one we can. The pain of a stitch or two, I've been told, isn't worth the multiple shots to deaden the area. But it's your choice." She gave Sam a steady look. "What do you think?"

Sam shook his head.

The stitching and clean up didn't take too long, and the nurse left with an admonition for Sam to stay flat for the next couple of hours. As she gathered up her things, she said, "Sometimes a person's body will react badly to all of the activity you just went through. If you start feeling pressure or having a bad headache or nausea, let us know okay? You're likely to be sore, but if you start experiencing serious pain, we can help."

Sam blinked heavily at the nurse, and his head moved slightly in acknowledgment.

"We'll let you know." Jo moved back up to the side of the bed.

Sam watched her, and Jo smiled at him, reaching out to smooth tangled bangs off his forehead. He'd borne up well during the procedure, but was pale now and looked exhausted.

"You're going to need a haircut," she said, teasing.

Eyes closed, Sam smiled tiredly, head canting in her direction.

Jo shook her head, continuing to stroke his hair. "Just once, I'd like a chance to give you a haircut that isn't connected to some sort of traumatic head injury."

Sam's smile deepened, and he slitted his eyes open, surprising her with a kind of dopey grin.

"Next time?" she asked. The motion of her fingers through his bangs didn't stop, and she couldn't help the smile when Sam's face began to ease into the laxness of sleep.

Sam's head moved in assent even as his eyelids fluttered closed.

"It's a deal, then," she whispered. Jo planned on holding him to that promise.

Sam sighed, lips twitching into a last smile—there, then gone. "Deal," he rasped.

And fell asleep.

xxxx

"He what?!" Dean yelped. He'd been lying on the couch, half-asleep, watching a movie when Jo had rushed into the apartment.

"He said, 'deal' when I told him we had one." Jo said it again, feeling the broad grin she'd been wearing pretty much since Sam had spoken, stretching wide again. "Like it was nothing. Just said it and fell asleep."

After she'd picked her jaw up from the floor, Jo had stood frozen for a long moment to see if Sam would realize what he'd done. He hadn't stirred.

"Sam?" she'd whispered, not sure what the protocol was in such a situation.

All she'd gotten in reply was a gentle snore.

So she'd tiptoed out of the room and walked/run to the nearest nurses' station.

"That's great news," the woman had said with a smile, going back to her computer. "I'll let the doctor and speech therapist know."

Once again, Jo had stood, waiting for some reaction that indicated the wonder of this news. When the woman had looked up at her, questioningly, clearly not understanding, Jo had huffed.

"Thank you," she'd said as politely as she could.

She had known where to get the reaction she was looking for.

"What did the doctor say?" Dean was struggling up from the couch and starting to cast around for his jacket. "Does he know? Have you talked to Ashley? What…?" He found his coat on the arm of the couch, picked it up, and kind of gestured with it at Jo. But he wasn't looking at her, eyes on the floor as he shuffled around, now looking for his shoes, Jo supposed.

"The nurse said she'd let the doctor and Ashley know, but I went ahead and called them." Jo waited until Dean's attention was back fully on her. "I left a message with Dr. Arnold, but Ashley was very pleased." She reached out and took the coat from Dean's hand. "She suggested letting him sleep and addressing the speaking with him in the morning." The speech therapist had been wonderful and at this point, whatever Ashley said, Jo was planning to do.

"The morning? But…" Dean went for the jacket again. Stretching for it made him wobble a little unsteadily.

Jo angled the coat out of his reach, giving it to Luke. "Ashley said the fact that Sam spoke without really thinking about it is a good indicator of his recovery, but that we don't want to place a whole bunch of pressure on him about it."

Dean stared at Jo and – bless his heart – was clearly trying to wrap his mind around not just the good news, but the more disappointing news that he needed to wait until the next day to talk to his brother about it.

"But…."

"Sit back down, Dean." Luke made it a command, but he was smiling. "Sam's resting, and you should be, too. It'll wait until morning."

Dean scowled, not sitting, and glancing at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. "It's like four o'clock in the afternoon."

"Yes," said Luke agreeably. "It is."

"I could rest in Sam's room," Dean offered. He wasn't going to give up easily, but Jo could see that he was wavering.

"You could."

"Who's going to be with him tonight?" Dean had backed up a step toward the couch.

"Honestly?" Jo raised an eyebrow at him. "You should have seen the look he gave me this afternoon when I suggested he might want you with him when they took that horrible bolt out of his head." She patted Dean on the arm and headed toward the kitchen. "I think we might be hovering a bit."

Dean let out a gusty sigh. "Maybe," he conceded and sat heavily. Slouching down, he admitted, "Usually it's just the two of us, and there's nothing really to do except hang out together in the hospital if one of us is there. I'd just as soon hang out with Sam as hang out by myself at the motel."

"That makes sense." Luke dropped back onto the couch himself, reaching for the remote.

"What happened to invalid picks the show?" Dean pouted, not fast enough to keep Luke from snatching the remote off the cushion beside him.

"Oh," said Luke, changing the channel. "That only applies in the hospital. At the house, I'm in charge again."

"Pffft," Dean responded. "Hey, Hunt for Red October."

Luke nodded, putting the remote back down, but out of Dean's reach. "I knew you'd see it my way."

The two men watched the movie in silence while Jo puttered around the kitchen, thinking about dinner, but so happily distracted over Sam's progress, she wasn't making much headway. She opened and closed cabinets and the refrigerator door vaguely, not really seeing what was inside. She turned to ask what the two men might want for dinner and stopped.

On the sofa, Dean was still slouched down as far as he could get without slipping off the cushion, but he'd tilted somewhat toward Luke, watching the movie through heavy-lidded eyes. It struck Jo then, that much of Dean's desire to be at the hospital with his brother was probably founded on his own desire not to be by himself. Of the two men, Sam was the one who, Jo suspected, did alone better than his brother in these situations. Not that anyone wanted to be by themselves too much when they were sick or injured and in the hospital, but she thought Sam might not mind a little time without someone hanging around.

But that didn't mean his brother might not need a little reassurance.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean raised his chin off his chest and opened his eyes fully to look at Jo.

"Michael's got a 12-hour shift at the hospital – I'll remind him to be sure to check in on Sam, OK?" She returned her attention to the fridge and opening it, made her decision about dinner. She pulled out the last casserole they'd brought. She placed it on the counter and turned on the oven. "Will that make you feel better?" She said it knowing Dean wouldn't be able to resist denying he'd been concerned in the first place.

Dean gave a half-hearted snort Jo could hear in the kitchen. "I wasn't worried about him."

"Of course you weren't, baby," Jo cooed.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled.

"We're not allowed to say 'shut up,'" Tommy reminded him as he came into the room and threw himself down between Dean and Luke, wriggling into a space that was entirely too small for his long frame.

Dean and Luke shifted, grumbling and shoving back at the intruder even as they made room.

"Is that still the rule?" Dean re-adjusted his position and rolled his head toward Luke.

"Mostly." Luke shrugged.

"It's a good rule." Jo defended the restriction as she came back into the living area. Both Dean and Tommy made under-their-breath scoffing noises. Jo ignored them.

She picked up the remote on its cushion so she could sit down next to her husband, who draped an arm around her. "Sean Connery," she approved.

Luke grunted and rolled his eyes, not taking his attention from the screen.

She looked down the row of them – Luke, then Tommy, then Dean – all sitting practically hip to hip on the large couch Jake had bought back when he'd had a job. There was room on the other side of Dean and a full piece of the sectional to Jo's left. But nobody seemed interested in more space. She smiled and settled in to watch the rest of the movie.

xxxx

"OK. Say it again."

This was the fourth time Dean had demanded his brother repeat the word, "Yes."

Sam glowered, but there was the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. "N- no."

Dean barked out a laugh and sat back in his chair. "Fine." He tried to sound disgruntled, but couldn't quite pull it off. He shook his head in wonder. "Dude. That is so awesome."

Now Sam smiled. "Y- yes."

Whatever had happened the afternoon before with Sam's spoken response to Jo's question, something had clicked in Sam's brain, and this morning he'd been able to give one word answers in response to questions. So far, they were still using the same yes/no type of questions because he hadn't been able to answer more complicated questions. The speech therapist had been both encouraging and realistic.

"Sam," she'd chided when he'd gotten frustrated during the earlier morning therapy session. "The fact that you're speaking at all right now is amazing, ok? Give yourself a break. And putting pressure on yourself to start speaking in full sentences immediately isn't going to help. You still have work to do to keep improving." Ashley had smiled at him and given his arm a little shake. "But let yourself celebrate this step—it's huge at this stage in your recovery."

Sam had met her eyes and taken a deep, shaky breath. "Yes."

"You're damn right, 'yes,'" she'd said and moved on to the next exercise.

Jo was proud of him; Sam had taken Ashley's encouragement to heart and though Jo knew he was still wishing he could do more, he'd taken his limitations more in stride.

"All right, darlin'. You ready?" Jo held up the pair of scissors in her hand.

With the help of one of the nurses, Sam had had his first full shower since the accident and with his hair clean was about to get a haircut.

Sighing, Sam nodded, then frowned in concentration. "Y-yes." His eyes came up to Jo's as he grinned.

"Are you sure you don't want me to do it, Sammy?" Dean smirked from across the room at him.

Jo pointed the shears at him. "Do you want to be banned from this room?"

"No, ma'am." Dean pretended to be sorry.

It had been difficult with his broken leg to get Sam settled in a chair that would still allow Jo to cut his hair without too much trouble, but they'd managed. She knew Sam wasn't super comfortable, so she planned to be as quick as possible.

"Okay, I'm going to trim you pretty short, then use the clippers." There was no getting around the fact that the only thing to do was pretty much shave Sam's head to even out the place where the surgery had been. His hair was longer than she'd seen it before, and she was kind of sad to cut it for him. She threaded her fingers through the wet strands, ruffling, then smoothing.

Sam tilted his head toward the hand that was running through his hair. "Yes."

"I'll get you a hat, man." Dean actually did look a little sympathetic. "You don't mind having a cow on it, do you? That seems to be all they have around here." The hospital was associated with the University of Texas and on the edge of campus, so there was a lot of Longhorn paraphernalia to be seen.

"It's not a cow, Dean," Jo said repressively as she started to cut. "It's Bevo." She felt a strange need to defend her state university, even if she hadn't attended it. "And he's a steer."

"Whatever," said Dean dismissively. "Sorry if I'm not up on my cow terminology."

Jo decided to ignore Dean and focused her attention on Sam. Long tendrils fell onto his towel covered shoulders and the floor as she worked. When she got the length to the point where she felt she could run the clippers of his scalp easily, she stopped.

"You okay?" Jo carefully removed the towel around Sam's neck and carried it to the trash. "Dean, will you please sweep up what fell on the floor?" They'd reassured the hospital staff that they'd clean up after themselves. She knew there'd be more hair once she'd used the clippers, but she'd feel better if they got the longer strands swept out of the way.

Sam shrugged and said, "H- hair."

Pleased to hear a new word, Jo laughed. "It's just hair?" she guessed as she draped the towel around his shoulders again. And Sam nodded, smugly pleased with himself.

Groaning dramatically, Dean heaved himself up from his chair, taking a moment to lean a heavy hand on Sam's shoulder—his way of noting the new word, too—before he reached for the broom someone had brought them. By the time he'd finished his task, Dean looked a little pale. Jo shook her head. Dean didn't complain, but dropped into his chair a little more heavily than he seemed to have intended. He looked a little startled and somewhat off-balance when he landed.

"Last step," Jo said as she started up the clippers. "What do you think, honey? You want me to leave it as long as possible or just get it as close to the shaved spot length as I can without actually shaving your whole head?"

There was a long silence that took Jo a beat to recognize. "Whoops." She thought a minute about how to rephrase the question. "Do you want me to get it as close to the length of the shaved part as I can?" She thought that might be what Sam would prefer. It would require less maintenance as it grew out, she suspected.

"Yes."

"Here we go, then."

xxxx

Jo opened the Styrofoam container on the tray in front of Sam, and he took a deep appreciative breath.

Luke and Tommy were headed back home after lunch, and it had been decided that as a goodbye/Sam-no-longer-has-a-piece-of-equipment-in-his-head celebration, Luke would bring in the family's favorite Mexican food. Sam approved.

Jo began to cut up his enchiladas, and Sam resisted the urge to poke her with his plastic fork. He'd gotten much better with his coordination over the last couple of days, but he had to admit that it would probably be neater if he let her do this. It didn't mean he had to like it, though.

Sam watched Dean open his own take-out container, take a careful sniff, then smile. The mono had affected his brother's appetite, and it was good to see Dean look like eating this meal would not require powering through it. Everyone laughed when Dean's stomach rumbled hungrily.

The whole family was packed into Sam's hospital room—Jo, Luke, Michael, Jake, Tommy, and Dean—talking and laughing and shoveling food into their mouths while Jo scolded and Jake opened his mouth full of food at Tommy behind her back. Sam suddenly felt his throat close up.

When Sam had first woken, he hadn't really been able to appreciate the presence of the Sweeds. Not that he hadn't been glad to see the family, but in a way, he hadn't really understood the significance of their being there. It had just seemed normal at the time, somehow, that Jo would be standing next to his bedside when he'd finally fought his way completely out of unconsciousness. That the entire family would rotate in and out of his room, keeping him company, talking to the doctors and hospital staff, forcing Dean to get rest, feeding them and housing them and just being present.

But now, in this moment, Sam couldn't believe they were there at all. After so many years absent, after what he and Dean had gone through, after all the unreturned phone calls and haphazard contact and what must have seemed like deliberate abandonment by Sam and Dean, how was it possible that they were here?

Sam looked at Dean, wondering how his brother was taking this, wanting to ask, wanting to speak his thankfulness into the comfortable, comforting silence that had fallen as everyone turned their attention more intently to their food. But he couldn't. Even beyond the physical difficulty of speaking for him right now, he didn't have any idea how to express everything he was feeling.

So he contented himself with soaking in the moment, eyes moving from face to face, grateful and overwhelmed.

"Sam, honey? Is everything alright?" Of course Jo had noticed. Sam just smiled and nodded, ducking head to his plate, hoping she wouldn't notice that his eyes were a little wet. He swallowed down the ache in his throat, forcing himself to concentrate on his food and on not making a fool of himself. Carefully, he lifted a bite to his mouth and let out a little hum of pleasure. So good. He looked vaguely at the bags the food had come in as he chewed and raised his eyebrows at the name of the restaurant.

Sam cleared his throat, but wasn't able to get the word he needed out as quickly as he wanted, so he slapped the tray in front of him, eyes on Dean. When Dean looked at him, Sam pointed to the bags.

Dean turned his head obligingly to look where Sam had indicated. "Chuy's?" Dean read slowly, sounding confused.

Sam nodded, trying to give Dean a look he would understand. Dean stared at Sam. Sam pointed to the food, then back at the bags.

"Mexican food?" Dean tried.

Sam rolled his eyes in frustration. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Dean. Wait. He concentrated. "Lights," he managed and looked at Dean expectantly.

Dean's face clouded over as he tried to puzzle out what Sam meant then suddenly cleared. "Yes," he agreed, laughing. "The lights." He looked around the room. "We ate at this place—Chuy's—when we were here before. It's down the street from a big park that had a whole bunch of Christmas lights." He grinned at his brother. "And a big tree of lights to spin under. It was pretty cool."

Sam nodded in satisfaction. "Lights," he said again. He wasn't speaking the way he'd like to, but Sam was glad that he was getting better at communicating.

The family looked confused, but game. Jake looked at Michael. "Zilker Park's down the street from the original Chury's. We'll have to keep an eye out for it as it gets closer to Christmas."

"You should. It was awesome."

"What were you in town for?" Michael had already cleaned his plate and had his legs stretched out where he sat on the floor, back against the wall.

"Ghost of a little girl who was haunting a hotel here." Dean looked at Sam, clearly not able to remember the name of the hotel and expecting Sam to provide it. The Driskill Sam thought, but knowing it didn't really matter, just shrugged. He saw Dean realize what he'd assumed and grimace an apology. Sam shrugged again and smiled.

The rest of lunch passed quickly and after they'd cleaned up, Luke and Tommy made the rounds, hugging everyone good-bye. Tommy tried to be careful with Sam, but still left him gasping somewhat at the strength of Tommy's embrace.

"We'll see you soon," Luke said as he scrubbed a careful hand over Sam's shorn scalp. Sam moved his head away, frowning at Luke with mock displeasure.

"Soon?" Dean asked, glancing quickly at his brother. There were rumors of Sam being discharged any day, but nothing had been decided as far as Sam knew.

"Uh…" Luke looked a little caught out.

Jo waved a dismissive hand at Dean, "We'll talk," she assured him, smiling sunnily. "I'll walk you down," she said to Luke, hooking an arm through his and Tommy's elbow.

"See ya!" Tommy called as he was led from the room.

Dean turned his attention to Michael. "Do you know something about Sam getting out of here that we don't?"

"Not really. Typically for an injury like Sam's, though, there's going to be some rehab needed. We can probably find a facility close by in Austin." He picked up the trash bag full of empty take out containers. "But you'll need a place to stay over the holidays," he added as he left the room.

Jake slapped Dean on the shoulder as he picked up his school bag, on his way back to the law school. "And Thanksgiving is just around the corner."

Left alone in the hospital room, Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"Well, I guess we know where we're going to be for Thanksgiving," Dean said, somewhat to Sam's surprise, not even fighting the idea that they'd be with the Sweeds for the holiday.

And for that Sam was glad. "Yes," he agreed.

xxxx