AN: has it been over a year since my last update? yes, but i have not forgotten. here you go thank you for reading and sticking with this story as long as you have
Dean woke with a pounding headache and his throat on fire. He groggily sat up, taking more effort than he expected, and recognised the surroundings of a hospital.
"Hey there." He turned to see another hospital bed, this one occupied by his father. The man looked pretty good, his beard was halfway burned off along with an eyebrow and he had a couple bandages covering his left cheek and ear that Dean assumed were for burns. His wrists were also heavily wrapped, otherwise though John was alert.
"When did you wake up?" Dean asked, voice cracking and John stood, grabbing a cup and filling it at the small sink. Dean noticed a bandage going from his upper thigh down to his knee.
"About 6 hours ago, I would be out again but I stopped the pain meds they had me on, stuff puts you out like a brick." He handed the cup over to Dean who attempted to grab it, frowning when his arms felt like someone had put 50 lb weights on them and his fingers refused to open. "Don't worry about it, it's normal, you'll get your strength back, here."
Dean accepted the tilted glass and drank, letting the water soothe his throat. "Sam!" the thought hit him in the middle of a sip and he started coughing, water slipping down the wrong pipe.
John put the cup on the table and helped Dean stay sitting, pushing the button to move bed to help. "Sam is fine, well, Bobby is taking care of him."
Dean's coughing calmed down and he felt exhausted, letting his head land against the pillows. "How bad is it doc?" he gave a half cracked smile "gonna live?"
John matched his smile. "You'll be pretty achy for a few days Son. Explosion hit you before me, I think you shielded me a bit from the blast. Your head got all rattled around, you fractured your left leg, scraped up pretty bad, and a few burns, but you'll recover."
Dean nodded and closed his eyes, letting out a soft breath. They were okay
Dean felt better the next day, better, and he wanted to leave. "You said it yourself that I'm fine."
John let out an exasperated sigh. "Dean, you're still on oxygen for your lungs, your leg just got out of a cast, you're still getting headaches, there's a chance you have a brain injury!"
"So what if I do? It will heal at Bobby's."
"Dean, it's only been three days, give it a couple more and we can go."
"We are going now, if i feel worse I will tell you and we can come back but I want to see Sam."
John let out another sigh, letting his head drop, a hand rubbing his face. "Okay."
"Really?" Dean sat up straight. "Today, right? Right now?"
"Yes today, but after they give you a check up. I'm not letting you out of here just to collapse three steps out the door." John smiled up at his son. "How bout we see Sam huh?"
"Okay fine, one check up and then Sam." Dean smiled back.
Sam hadn't been able to visit at all in those 3 days. Bobby said he was 'recovering' and nothing more, only for Dean to 'focus on your own self getting better' if John knew more he kept his trap shut.
Which infuriated Dean to no end, but it didn't matter anymore because within a matter of hours the final examination was done and Dean was being wheeled out to a Impala with Bobby in the driver's seat.
"Where's Sam?" Dean asked, sliding in the back. John was already in the passenger's seat and Bobby wasted no time taking off.
"About Sam." Bobby paused, lips pierced as he glanced at John.
"Dean, Sam isn't doing great." John turned to look at him.
"Okay, so why didn't we bring him to the hospital? Is he injured bad?" Dean was on high alert now, looking accusatory at both of them
"It's not…" Bobby let out a long sigh. "Dean, they did something to him, got him messed up in the head, according to ya Daddy they may have been giving him demon blood and I think it's acting like some kind of drug."
Dean spun on his father "The hell? Why didn't you tell me? How do you know?"
John held up a hand "Calm down, we didn't plan on keeping it from you but you had no reason to worry while you were healing, we're telling you now and I saw them feed Sam the blood in that room, we don't know for sure that it was a regular thing but the way Sam is acting now I believe it was."
"The way he's acting now?" Dean repeated
"He doesn't talk." Bobby answered "It's like his head isn't there most of the time, he's in pain, sweating and shivering and.." there was a long pause as Dean waited for Bobby to finish. "He's been trying to hurt himself."
Dean's stomach dropped. After all this time, Sam was finally safe except now he was a danger to himself?
"You left him alone?" Dean accused.
"No." Bobby replied a little snappy "I ain't an idiot. Pastor Jim came out after we figured the demon blood thing, thought maybe he knew of a cleansing. He didn't but volunteered to stay and help out."
"Oh." Dean sat back in his seat and sighed, he had a small headache now. "Any word on Yellow Eyes?"
"Silence, but I put every damned sigil I could find around the house, got a few drawn on Sam with a sharpie too."
"Good."
Dean must have drifted off because he was awoken to the sound of the gravel under tires when they pulled into Bobby's driveway.
He didn't wait for his dad or Bobby as he jumped out of the car and ran up to the house, ignoring the ache in his leg. He found pastor Jim in the living room and was about to ask him where Sam was when the pastor put a finger to his lips and nodded at the couch.
There, sleeping soundly was his brother.
God
He hadn't been able to look, to really look at Sam before. The room was too dark and then the fire and then his dad and just
Sammy
Dean sank to his knees beside the couch, and stared. How many months had it been? Sam was so pale, so thin, he was dressed only in an oversized shirt. That showed his boney arms, bruises still healing, scars and scratchings running from his arms. Wrists were the worst, skin scraped away and raw now scabbed over, he had been bound, his fingernails almost non-existant at the extent they were worn away.
He brushed a small hair away from Sam's face. The kid looked so peaceful.
Jim beckoned him into the kitchen and begrudgingly Dean got up, leaving Sam's side to follow. He made his way to a chair where a cup of coffee was placed in front of him. John and Bobby joined them with their own mugs.
"He doesn't sleep like this often so let's keep it down as we talk." Jim's voice was low and soothing, it had been a few years since Dean had seen the pastor and he had forgotten how warm the man was.
"Surprised you were able to get him down." Bobby commented, sipping his coffee. Dean noticed then how tired Bobby looked.
"He was up all night, he collapsed right after you left to grab these two." Jim motioned at Dean and John. "I hope he'll be able to get a few hours in before the nightmares wake him."
"Nightmares?" Dean questioned
"Kids had it pretty rough, something in that head is plaguing him." Bobby spoke sadly. "My hope is that this demon blood will act like a drug and eventually the withdrawal will stop and things will get better. It's only been a few days, if it's like anything else we should be over the hump soon."
"And if it isn't?" Dean questioned looking at Bobby.
It was John who answered "We keep trying, we call everyone we can and we try everything we can. We aren't giving up here son."
John seemed to read Dean's mind and quiet his fears before Dean knew them himself. "Good." Dean nodded. "We keep trying."
Dean wanted to stay up and watch over Sam, but the concussion was hitting him hard, he refused to leave Sam though so Bobby put down some blankets and Dean cozied himself on the floor next to the couch.
He was almost drifting off to sleep when a noise caught his attention. He waited, listening closely, and heard it again. A soft whine. Dean sat up and looked at Sam.
Sam was curled into a ball, still asleep, but his eyebrows were furrowed and he was whimpering. Dean quietly and gently put a hand on the kids head and rubbed. "Hey little bro." Dean spoke to Sam like he hadn't in years. "You're gonna be okay now, it's all over, we got you out."
Surprisingly Sam seemed to relax a bit. Dean sat there, whispering to Sam and rubbing him until Sam was no longer a tight ball and once again in a relaxed and peaceful state. Dean smiled and put his head close to his brothers until their foreheads were touching. "See? I can still count on you to fight."
When Bobby came downstairs in the morning he was shocked to find a still sleeping Sam with a snoring Dean tucked awkwardly onto the couch, legs sticking halfway out.