—-SNS—-SNS—CHAPTER 3—SNS—SNS—
It had been two weeks since Dean had passed through the rift in purgatory and back into the land of the living. After stopping to free Benny, his very next stop had been a pay phone where he had run through every last number Sam had, with every one of them being out of service. Frustrated and prepared to give Sam a piece of his mind, he hotwired a car and high-tailed it for Rufus' cabin. Pulling in, he paused as he saw the Impala covered up…not a great sign. Still, he flung open the cabin door, calling for Sam, eager to see his brother again. However, it was very quickly clear no one had been there for weeks, if not months. At first he thought someone might have taken Sam, but although the place was an utter mess, it still had that semblance of controlled chaos his brother always managed to impose on a space. It looked more like Sam had left in a hurry. Starting to be concerned, Dean quickly searched the space and felt his stomach sink upon discovering the summoning table in the basement with the binding spell for Death mostly charred and indiscernible. "Oh Sammy, what the hell did you do?" he muttered out loud to the empty basement. A broken devil's trap on the ceiling spoke to him of summoning demons too, and could not help but add to his growing concern. Shaking his head, he went back over the cabin methodically, looking for any possible clue as to where Sam might have gone. Finally concluding he wasn't getting anywhere, he headed for the Impala.
Uncovering her, he ran his hands carefully and lovingly down the sides. Sam had to have repaired her - he'd heard the crash when Meg had run the car into the SucraCorp sign and had cringed at the knowledge of the repairs that would be required. Sam had done a good job, from what he could see. He'd have to let him know - if he ever found the damn kid! Searching through the car he found a box full of Sam's cell phones in the trunk, all except his main one. Not sure why he had ditched them, but at least now he had a lead. He could track him through the GPS like last time, if he could get it turned on. Firing up the car, he closed his eyes briefly to soak in the joy of being in his baby once more, breathing fresh air, not covered in monster guts. Opening his eyes and easing her onto the highway he headed towards whatever town was nearest. A glance over at the passenger seat told him he wasn't home just yet, but he was going to find Sam, and then he would be whole again.
Finding Sam turned out to be more challenging than he'd hoped. Dean had coaxed the phone carrier to turn his GPS on, but the phone had apparently been offline for nearly a week. He immediately headed for that last location, some obscure Midwest town, and upon arrival went straight to the cheapest motel he saw. Flashing Sam's picture, he learned he had been there, had apparently even served as temporary handyman for the kid running the counter, whose Mom had been in the hospital. That's my boy. Dean thought proudly. The mom wandered in at that moment, and spoke of a tall, quiet, sad young man who had helped them out so graciously but had been on his way shortly after she had gotten better. She thought he had been on foot, which surprised Dean, and pointed west, suggesting he might have looked for work in the next town over. Dean smiled his gratitude and headed out again, puzzled and incredibly concerned by all that he had learned.
There was a commotion in a field to his right as he approached the outer limits of the next town, an ambulance and a small crowd of onlookers were gathered. He nearly drove by, distracted by an internal monologue he was having, but out of the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of a messy head of hair…he would know that hair anywhere. He had found Sam.
That was the good news. The bad news was that it was Sam being loaded, apparently unconscious, onto a stretcher and into the ambulance! Screeching to a halt on the edge of the road, Dean sprang from the Impala and raced across the uneven field, startling several of what he soon realized were farm workers that were watching anxiously. Even as he arrived at the group the ambulance sprang to life and pulled away.
"Wait!" he cried, knowing he would not be heard.
"Can I help you, son?" asked a wizened older gentleman, pushing his straw hat back on his head.
"That was my brother!" Dean exclaimed, "What happened? Where are they taking him?"
"Sam is your brother?" chimed in a younger girl to his left.
"Yes. Can someone please tell me what - "
"He collapsed while we were working." responded another man. "He tends to work through our water breaks, and likely became dehydrated in the sun."
The girl spoke up again, clearly worried, "I don't think he's been eating much either. He shared his lunch with me yesterday, and I don't know if he even ate any of it."
All of this was painting a grim picture for Dean. Once he found Sam and he was feeling better, they were going to have words. "Where - "
"General Hospital," inserted the older man. "Straight into town, left at the only light. You can't miss it." Dean smiled his thanks, but he was already moving. There were voices calling after him to tell Sam they were thinking of him - clearly the kid couldn't help winning people over even at his worst - but he was already focused on getting to his brother's side as fast as humanly possible. The drive to the hospital was a blur, and before he knew it he was standing in front of the ER desk, demanding to be taken to Sam. The woman behind the counter was not being helpful, but then there was a touch on his elbow. Turning, he blinked as he found himself staring at a familiar face.
"Dean. I'm Dr. Roberts - Cara Roberts…not sure if you remember me?" Even as she spoke, Cara was drawing him away from the desk and down a hallway.
"Dr. - Dr. Roberts, yes. What - I don't think - " Dean tried to gather his thoughts, even as memories flooded his mind of their last meeting, when they had been hunting what turned out to be a siren. He remembered thinking SHE was the siren and trying to reach Sam, who had hooked up with her, only for Dean to be tricked by the actual siren. The words exchanged and fight that followed…he couldn't repress the shudder at the memory of nearly killing Sam, and the fallout from that whole encounter. Luckily, it appeared Cara missed his preoccupation, or chalked it up to worry over his brother.
"Yeah, I was in Iowa, ended up following a guy here. Guy left, I stayed. Anyway, what the hell have you been doing to Sam?" Dean blinked at the anger in her voice, completely off-kilter by the entire encounter. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he answered her question sharply.
"I haven't been with Sam, been trying to find him. Arrived just in time to see him being taken away in an ambulance. Now where the hell is he, what is wrong with him, and can I see him?" Cara's demeanor softened as he spoke, and they slowed to a stop outside a room.
"Sam is malnourished and likely collapsed from dehydration and overheating." she said kindly. "We are pumping him full of fluids, so he should recover fine, assuming he starts taking better care of himself. He's still out of it right now, probably for the night. He woke up fighting the nurses and raving about purgatory or something crazy, so I ended up sedating him." She indicated the room in front of them. "Go on in, push the call button when he wakes, and I'll be back."
Purgatory, huh. So he knew…? Dean pushed the door open but paused on the threshold, his heart clenching. Sternly rebuking himself for his hesitation, he forced himself to walk over to the bed where his brother lay sleeping. His hair was a mess, stringy and unwashed, plastered by sweat to his forehead. Even as he crept closer Sam began to moan and toss, clearly caught up in a nightmare. All hesitation fled, and Dean laid a hand gently on top of Sam's head, leaning over to murmur "Shh. You're ok. I'm here." Surprisingly and to his great relief, Sam immediately stilled, his muscles relaxing. Huh, big brother's still got it! Dean thought. Moving his hand to Sam's wrist, Dean startled and looked down in dismay. The reports were not lying, Sam was all skin and bone. Well, he was back now, and THAT was going to change!
Hooking a chair with his foot he drew it close, never letting go of Sam's wrist. Sitting down, he just stared, drinking in the sight of his brother. Eventually he started talking, slow at first but then the words started to spill out of him about his experiences the past year. He talked until he was hoarse, yawning in between words. "Sammy, I thought things were bad where I was. Then I get free, and come back to find you…" he trailed off, realizing the anger in his voice was triggering something in Sam, even unconsciously. He rubbed his thumb over the inside of Sam's wrist to calm them both and took a deep breath. "I'm not mad, man, I just need you to wake up and talk to me. Tell me why the hell you weren't taking care of yourself…just wake up brother, please." He finally put his head down on the bed next to their hands, realizing he was closer to a release of tears than he had allowed himself in a year. There had been no time for grief, or anything but running, hiding, defending, and attacking in purgatory. It had a purity to it - though he would never admit it to anyone - that he at some level had enjoyed. Life there had been simple...black and white...kill or be killed. Real life was misty and gray, and messy in a way that purgatory never could be. A tear dropped from his eye, which he impatiently wiped away on the sheet. No one saw it, it never happened. Focusing on the steady beat of Sam's pulse under his fingers, he finally relaxed his guard just enough to slip into sleep.
