—-SNS—-SNS—CHAPTER 4—SNS—SNS—
Sam was incredibly puzzled. He thought he had heard the familiar voice of his brother, but it wasn't possible. Dean was gone. Tossing his head on the pillow, he willed himself to go back to sleep, selfishly wanting to hear the voice again, even if it was just in his dreams. There were sounds and noises pulling at his subconscious however, telling him he needed to wake up. He wrinkled his face, trying to get his bearings. It was normal - especially of late - to have no idea where he was when he woke, but this felt even more out of place than usual, if that's possible. Where…?
"Come on Sammy, wake up!"
There's that voice again, but it's not possible… He became aware of a hand on his wrist, even as his brain supplied some key awareness of smell that identified the space as a hospital bed and room. Who…? Prying his eyes open, Sam lazily looked over at Dean and smiled as he caught him holding his hand. Memory suddenly kicked in, however, and he sat up abruptly in shock, pulling his hand away and setting off alarms as he knocked off the monitor attached to his other hand. Dean for his part had been caught off guard first by the lack of reaction, and then equally by the delayed reaction and jumped to his feet, reaching toward Sam with a soothing sound. A nurse rushed in at that moment, requiring only a glance to realize what had happened and then quickly silencing the machine. Dean backed away to make room as she invaded Sam's eyesight to gauge his awareness, asking brisk questions. Sam glanced at her briefly in annoyance, then returned to staring at Dean as if he was about to disappear. Eventually she gave up with a huff, leaving with an ominous, "I've paged your doctor."
Sam didn't seem to even notice her departure. His mouth opened several times, then he reached over and pinched his arm, hard. After the third pinch Dean reached out a hand to intervene. "Stop man. You're not dreaming. I'm really here."
"You - how - what - " spluttered Sam.
"Smooth Sam." Dean meant it to tease him, but clearly Sam's defenses were down, and tears began to stream down his face. "Hey, hey, it's ok. You're ok. C'mere." Perching on the side of the bed, he drew Sam's head to his shoulder and hugged him as he shook with silent tears. He was rail thin, all the muscle mass Dean remembered him having gone. They were going to need to talk, but that could wait. He simply sat and reveled in the joy of having his brother back, breathing deeply the reality that he was "home". Home had never been a house or four walls, it had always been Sam.
Eventually Sam's tears ran out, and he reluctantly pulled back, wiping embarrassedly at his face. Dean hopped up, the lack of contact immediately missed by both, but returned almost right away with a damp washcloth which Sam wiped over his face. Sam glanced obliquely at his brother as he handed it back, almost shyly, to see his reaction to his breakdown but there was no condemnation in his face, only understanding. Dean sat back down on the bed, hip pressed against his leg, and they just sat there, saying nothing and everything in the silence.
You were gone. I was completely alone.
It was hell, I can't believe I'm here.
I missed you SO much.
It's good to be home.
Finally Sam found his voice. "I can't believe you're really here Dean. How are you here? How is that possible?" He pressed his leg a bit more against Dean's solid presence, grounding himself.
"I was in purgatory."
"I know." Dean looked up at Sam sharply at that.
"How - "
Sam shook his head. "I'll explain, but it's not a simple answer. You first. How did you escape?"
Dean just stared at him for a moment, perplexed, before continuing. "I guess whoever built that box didn't want me in there any more than I did."
"What does that mean?"
"I'm here, okay?"
Sam pulled back a bit at the brisk tone, surprised, but continued. "What about Cas? Was he there?"
Dean jumped up and paced away from the bed, face stoic but Sam could tell he was upset. Just when Sam took a breath to continue, assuming he wasn't going to answer, Dean responded quietly, "Yeah, Cas didn't make it."
Sam was startled. "What exactly does that mean?"
"Something happened to him down there. Things got pretty hairy towards the end, and he... just let go."
Sam puzzled over that for a moment. "So Cas is dead? You saw him die?"
"I saw enough."
"So, then what, you're not sure?" Sam pressed. Cas had more lives than a cat, surely…
Dean whirled to face Sam and retorted angrily, "I said I saw enough, Sam."
Sam regarded him solemnly, reading guilt and sorrow behind the anger. 'Right. Dean, I'm sorry."
"Me too." Dean replied, immediately deflating. After another round of pacing he returned to his spot on the bed, secretly needing the comfort of their shared connection as much as he knew Sam did. They were silent for a while, both lost in their thoughts, when they were startled by a voice from the door.
"Is it safe to come in?" questioned Dr. Cara with a smile. Dean smiled back, silently thanking her for waiting, while Sam stared in shock. He and Cara had instantly connected on the siren case and even had an evening of "fun," but he had never expected to see her again.
"H-hi." he stuttered.
"Smooth." Dean mumbled sotto voce.
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
They both smiled fondly, even as Cara gave them a puzzled look and moved more fully into the room. "I'm glad to see you awake Sam. How are you feeling?" And with that she became the professional she was, firing health questions at him even as she examined him. Dean retreated only as far as the visitor chair, smirking at Sam's obvious discomfort. Serves him right for not saying goodbye! He laughed silently. His laughter quelled completely however as he listened to Sam's hesitant answers, growing more concerned as Sam struggled to try to remember the last time he ate and drank and what it was, or when he last slept. His brother had not been caring for himself, and it grieved him greatly. Finally, the questions were done, and Cara announced that he could be released if he promised to take better care of himself. Dean spoke up at that point before Sam could answer.
"He will." Both sets of eyes turned to him, but he didn't flinch. "I'm back now, and I'll make sure of it." Cara nodded, and let them know she'd send the forms in shortly for him to be released.
"Thank you." Sam said softly.
"Just take better care of yourself Sam." she replied fondly, "That's all the thanks I need." He nodded, and she disappeared out the door and down the hallway.
Sam held up a hand to stall the tirade he could tell was about to come, and simply said, "Not now." Dean stared at him, seeing the weariness still lining his face, and nodded. There would be time soon enough to hash it all out.
Forms signed and a promise of eating a good meal in the near future extracted, they were soon out the door and Dean was ushering a somewhat shaky brother into the passenger seat. Sam sank into the car, inhaling deeply the familiar smells. Scooting down so he could lean his head back, he turned to stare at Dean as he climbed in and started the car. Dean looked back at Sam, taking in the gaze that told him Sam still thought he might be dreaming, and reached over to punch his shoulder gently. "Food?" Sam shrugged noncommittally. "Well I for one am dying for a real bacon cheeseburger. And you need something to put some meat back on those bones. So burgers it is." Starting the car, he pulled out of the parking lot and started driving, keeping his eyes open for a good diner to stop at. Glancing over, he saw Sam was already asleep, lulled by the comfort of his surroundings, and with a fond smile he decided that putting some distance between them and the hospital would work too.
