28.1.3. Heather Cortez quote
28.1.3. "To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world."
- Heather Cortez
Co-written with notjustsammy
Dean Winchester couldn't even count the number of times he'd played FBI Agent in a hospital setting. Usually it was while him and Sam were on a hunt, not while one of them was actually in the hospital. He glanced around, and shuddered. He'd spent way too much time in one as a patient. First was the heart attack, and he really should have died. Second was when he was in that weird ass coma and his Dad sold his soul to get Dean's back... Either way, he hated them. He never wanted to spend any longer amongst the butt revealing gowns, and grumpy doctors any more than he had to.
Only Agent Olsen had gone and got himself hurt while Dean was stuck in Hell. He tucked his fake shield back into the inner pocket of his jacket and followed the sexy brunette nurse to Sam's room. She had one of the finest asses he'd seen since being reborn. She was definitely making the scrubs work for her even if the top wasn't as tight as he'd like. And really, she'd probably just look a lot better naked.
They rounded a corner and Dean was ushered into a room where Sam seemed to be by himself. Score one for their FBI scam. Being an officer of the law seemed to have its perks after all. He wet his lips and had been about to try and do a little scoring of his own when he caught a glance exchanged between Sam and the nurse and his eyebrow kicked up. Sammy didn't even need to be at full strength to be drawing in the girls. Dean was proud of him. At least he got one thing right while he wasn't around to do the big brother thing.
The nurse smiled at him, and Dean gave a nod. Any thoughts of hitting on her were gone since Dean never wanted to fight over a girl with brother again. He waited until the hot nurse left before going to his brother's side and dropping the FBI front. "Dude, you hitting that? And you aren't even at full capacity yet. Naughty nurse high five," he said as he held up his hand and waited for Sam to slap it.
Sam just looked at his brother's hand, a somewhat blank look on his face, before his dark eyes shifted up to Dean's face and he blinked. There was a hint of a confused frown appearing, too, and after his crap night hugging the toilet bowl, he was struggling to get his brain to actually work. Not that he suspected it had worked in a long time. He was aware his head was stuffed, feeling like he was on one big mindfuck since he woke up in hospital alone. In fact, right now, he thought he might be hallucinating Dean's presence. He had dreamt about it, what was one step more to hallucinations? A lot of painkillers had been ploughed into him over the previous few hours, even earning him a shot of morphine for his headache. It was a surprise Dean wasn't in a pink tutu and didn't come with a chorus line of chicks in fairy costumes.
He didn't say anything, just reached over far enough to give Dean a poke in the side to make sure he was real. He felt real enough. "Who are you?" he finally asked suspiciously, trying to cop a close look at Dean's eyes to see if they were going to pool black all of a sudden.
Dean dropped his hand. It probably was too much to assume that Sam would just give him a high five and they could pick up where they left off. There was going to be a lot of awkward 'you were in Hell' bullshit that Dean just really wanted to skip over. He didn't want to get into the details, didn't want to relive the horrors. Even if his nightmares weren't giving him much choice. "Okay, I deserve that. Sammy, it's me, your brother. Dean. I'm back." He held up his hand again, but this time briefly so that Sam would give him a moment. Dean stuck his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a small bottle of Holy Water. "See? I'll prove it." He popped the top of it, and downed the whole thing. If he had been a demon, there definitely would have been some pretty cool smoking effects right about now.
The frown was still set in Sam's features, a mix of confusion and lingering pain from the night before. "Back from where?" he continued to throw at his brother warily. He was sat up in the hospital bed, both Ailbe and his doctors adament he needed to stay in bed today as a precaution. Seems no one trusted his brain not to explode and land him in another coma. Even still, Sam was still Dean's little brother. He scrunched his nose up and maybe proceeded to pout just slightly. "Took your damn time about it, didn't you?" he added snappily, folding his arms defensively across his body.
Dean frowned a little himself as he looked at Sam, something not sitting quite right as he looked him over. He stepped in closer as the bottle was tucked back in his pocket, and his hand came to rest on Sam's shoulder as he gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You know me, man, I'm always fashionably late. Can't not make an entrance. I'm sorry it took me so long... Never would have gone anywhere in the first place if I'd had a choice. I was, ah... I was..." Dean faltered. "What do you remember about the last time you saw me?"
"That you're a big pussy," Sam offered, raising an eyebrow at his brother. He continued to keep his arms locked across his chest, some sort of defensive shield. He was thrown having Dean here, it didn't make sense all of a sudden. He couldn't stop putting a hand up to his head soon and rubbing his fingers briefly across his temple. "Where did you go?"
"How the head? They looking after you okay here? Any idea when you're allowed out? Although if that chick in here just now was my nurse, I'd never wanna leave." Dean pulled up a chair to sit beside his brother, leaning forward as he studied Sam's face in a long silence. "You don't need to know that now. We'll get you fixed up first."
Sam looked at Dean skeptically, huffing out an annoyed snort. "I had a head injury, I'm not brain damaged. You don't need to treat me like a kid. But I'm sure, whatever it was, was way more important to you than making sure your brother wasn't dead. You're just like Dad, can't even rely on you when I'm in a coma." It was a low blow, especially for Sam. But after all the pain he had been through, and trying to face this and the mess in his head without Dean's reassurance, it had left him feeling more than a little fragile and pissed off. All he knew was that Dean had been absent, and all of a sudden he was here and had no intentions of offering an explanation from beyond some other damn hunt or another. It was cutting very close to home like Sam's memories of their father.
Dean started to say something, but stopped. It wasn't going to help either of them if they got into a fight over who was the most like Dad again. As much as Dean loved their father, he really wasn't the greatest family role model. Not as far as sticking around went. Their Dad had tried to do the best he could, but hunting wasn't made for quality father-sons bonding. And yet Dean had still worshipped the ground he'd walked on. Maybe Dean really was screwed in the head. "Hell," he finally said, his tone low. "I was in Hell, Sammy. Don't you remember anything about the Hell Hounds? About me trading my soul to get you back? I had a year to live, remember? Nothing is more important than you, but I can't be here when I'm trapped in the world's worst Motel 6."
Sam looked at Dean like he was crazy. "Hell? What are you on about? Did you get drunk and sleep with an ugly chick or something? I don't even know what a Hell Hound is." He just continued to frown at his brother. he knew Dean was evasive, but this was bullshit. "Fine, don't tell me where the hell you were. I don't even care. I can survive on my own, anyway. You drag me outta college to just... just..." He waved his hand a little with another snort of annoyance. "I should just go back. Obviously you're doing fine on your own without me."
"Sammy, c'mon!" Dean couldn't help but let the frustration slip out. He really was telling the truth, and now Sam was feeding him this high and mighty crap about being alone and dragging him out of-- "You've got amnesia, don't you? That hit to the head shook a few screws loose, and now you're going Memento on me, only that guy really was batshit crazy with all the tattoos and Polaroids... Christ, I can't believe it. You've gone back to the future, man."
"Bullshit!" Sam cried in response, his own frustration surging to the forefront in reaction. "I do not have damn amnesia! Don't you think they would have told me if I had it? I'm surrounded by doctors! I just... haven't told them who I really am! They think I'm Jimmy Olsen and I'm cool with that right now. How was I supposed to know what landed me here? I didn't want to deal with getting interrogated about what I really do. I can't even watch that Coke ad on TV without hurling from all the damn... movement," he said, scrunching up his nose. Damn psychedelic marketing.
"And risk this?" Dean asked his brother as he gazed at him steadily, taking the outburst in his stride. God only knew they'd done worse to each other over the years, even if they were each other's best friend. It was what family was about though, right? Real family. It was about withstanding the bad times as well as the good. "You really don't think that not remembering how you got here was a little tip off? I mean, I get blow to the heads can fuck with some shit, but there would have been at least a memory of what you were doing right before, an idea of what we were hunting if I'd been with you. I'm sorry I wasn't here, Sam. I really am. It hurts seeing you in this place, but I'm here now. We just... I need you to remember because trying to get it through your abnormally large forehead that I was in Hell is just going to suck big time."
"Risk what?" Sam snapped back, reaching his tolerance threshold, which was apparently quite low right now. "They said it's normal for a patient not to remember the events of a trauma, dickwad. What are you, Dr Feelgood? I know what we were hunting right before. But do you think I was just gonna tell them and let them log it in a permanent medical record? It was a bitch angry poltergeist in our old home. We saw Mom, remember? And you think I'm the one with damn amnesia," he snorted, turning his head to look out the window at the dreary New York buildings.
"Sam, that was three years ago!" Dean dropped his head, and scrubbed his hand over his face as the other one rest next to Sam on the bed. Last thing Sam remembered was going back home, and seeing Mom. Dean wasn't about to go over the three years in between then and now. He couldn't. Too much of it fucking hurt. Why couldn't his brother just remember? "And to risk you having the angry outbursts! That's what. To risk stressing you out in case it made things worse. I don't want you tellin' 'em a damn thing, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to friggen ask you! I'm your brother."
It felt like someone had poured icy cold water down his back. Three years ago? Despite his protests, he wasn't stupid enough not to think something was fucked in his head. He knew it was, he just hadn't had the capacity to figure it out. In the early time of his hospital stay, he had been completely confused. He believed he was this Jimmy person. But slowly it started to come back, to know who he was. But something still wasn't right. There was those weird nightmares that caused excruciating pain in his head, and he at least knew Dean and that Dean was his brother. He knew Jess had been murdered and that he had packed college in to go hunting for whatever it was that killed her and their mother. But then he was here, from a bad accident no one knew about and he certainly couldn't remember. Even now, that squeezing headache was back and the nausea was starting to churn in his gut. He put his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes and resting his hand across his forehead. "I feel like crap," he mumbled, losing the energy to fight or maintain any angry outbursts. Three years? Did the head injury really cause amnesia and make him lose three years of his memory?
Dean took his brother's hand as he watched Sam. "Need me to buzz the nurse? Want some water, or, ah... a psychiatrist?" Dean tried to smile. "I know, how about a stripper? Give you a nice little lap dance, and you'll perk right up. I'm real sorry I had to burst your amnesiac bubble, Sammy. I tried to warn you that you didn't want to know. I wish I had been around, but I couldn't. I would have stopped you getting hurt if I could. You know that."
Sam was frowning, trying to fight the headache away. "Then why am I here? What did this? They said it wasn't a car crash. There was no car. Just me in some place on my own. They think it was an assault, but I dunno, Dean. It's gotta be something more, right? Something did this to me?" The confusion was evident in his voice, but there was also a plea to his brother behind the words. Truth was, Sam was scared that whatever did this to him would come back to finish him off, but he had found being in the hospital with a fucked head really did make one paranoid, especially with the nightmares... which he wasn't going to tell Dean about.
"Because you were stupid," Dean bit out before he could stop it. He raised his free hand to rub it over his mouth, and sighed as he slumped back in the chair. "Bobby said you went after Lilith. A long story you ain't even gonna remember, but just realise she's Hell's ultimate bitch. She's the reason I made it to Hell. Well, not quite the only reason, but definitely high up on the list. I'm stupid too. I guess you just had to get your vengeance on, but she beat you."
Sam just looked at Dean blankly. "A demon?" he asked, really not following, and wondering why a demon would have a name like Lilith. He didn't profess to be particularly deep right now. He did smirk and snigger before he could stop himself. "Lilith," he snorted in amusement.
Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam's reaction. He had to wonder how Sam would have felt regarding Lilith's original little girl vessel. It had been kind of amusing until the killing started. "You really have shaken a few marbles loose, haven't you? How am I ever gonna trust you to take care of yourself?"
Sam shrugged. "Maybe you can't anymore," he pointed out, meeting Dean's gaze. "What would you do if I can't?" he added in challenge. Life on the road, hunting, wasn't exactly conducive to looking after a brother with a screw loose who could maybe put them in more danger than the things they were hunting. He wasn't sure Dean would have much interest in a burden like that, either, not with hunting being his top priority.
Dean looked away, staring at the nurses gathered around their station. The pretty brunette was there, and he caught her looking at Sam. Her gaze flicked to meet Dean's, and she seemed embarrassed at being sprung. He glanced back at his brother. He'd been to Hell for Sam. He'd given his soul up so his brother would live. Now his brother was laid up in hospital from trying to kill a stupid demon bitch. He didn't even want to bring up Ruby. Better Sam didn't remember her, either. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Sam regardless of hunting. "I'd stay and help you out. I draw the line at changing any adult diapers."
Sam pulled a face and flipped Dean off. "I'm toilet trained. You're safe." But he did watch his brother intently for a moment, wondering if Dean really would draw the line if Sam was in any worse condition. He couldn't deny he had been mad at Dean for not being here, but he was glad he was back now, and after a few silent beats, he cleared his throat. "I'm kinda fucked in the head, dude. And I don't know how to fix it," he admitted.
Dean wasn't sure if he'd draw the line either, but he wasn't about to admit it to his brother. He liked to think he was there through thick and thin, but part of it was that if he were honest, he had never expected to make it to old age. He wasn't even sure if Sammy would once he had been back in the hunting game. And each time it came to Sam nearly dying, Dean did everything he could to make sure his brother lived. Surely that said something? "Maybe it's just time for us to stop for a bit until you do," Dean murmured as he leaned forward again, and rest his hand on Sam's arm.
Sam looked at Dean uncertainly. "Us? Sure you can just stop? What would you do?" he asked. But talking about it, it did seem like he was going to need at least a short while to recover. The pain was still crippling, and obviously he didn't have enough of a memory to know really what they could be dealing with. What if he had lost a lot vital information? Dean obviously knew a lot he didn't. A lot. Another frown appeared. "You were in Hell? What... what happened there? Why were you there?"
"I got no idea, but I'm sure I can figure out somethin'. Sure this place has a lot of things that go bump in the night, so I won't be completely in retirement. Just means we stop chasin' things cross country. Besides, I only just got back... I ain't got any ties right now. Nothin' that's more pressin' than my brother. We'll stay, okay? Just relax. Just remind me I'm Dean Olsen..." Dean's face twisted like he'd had a painful headache of his own, and he looked away again, checking to see no one was paying any attention. "Same ol', same ol'. Did a deal with a Crossroads Demon so you'd live. You... ah, died. For a little while. A year ago, I guess. Demon gave me a year to live before the Hounds would come collect my soul. I don't wanna talk about what went down, Sam. Not right now. It's not exactly bedside conversation."
Sam just listened quietly, biting on the corner of his lip. He wanted to give Dean a hug, but he knew he would get the general feigned indifference to it. "Maybe we should... get a place, or something. Here. For awhile. Short lease. I'm not sure how long I'm gonna need doctors. If they think I have someone to stay with, they might let me outta here. I mean, it's nice... they've been good..." He trailed off briefly and his gaze flicked momentarily to Ailbe out at the nurses' station. "Just don't like being laid up."
Dean didn't miss the gaze, and he smirked widely. "No, you just wanna get laid. And nothin' quite works like the amnesia patient just tryin' to find out who he is. It's cool, I get it. Just make sure you hang up a sock when we do get a place. I don't need to be scarred for life. Some things I can live without seein'. But we'll get the place. We'll do whatever you wanna do, Sammy. You can call the shots for a little while."
Sam snorted. "I didn't forget how to get laid," he scoffed. "And I know what you're thinking. It's nothing. She's just helped me, been with me when things get real crap. It's not pretty. She's one of the permanent nurses for this ward, so she's hear about every day, some nights." He rubbed at his head, remembering how much it had been hurting the night before. "Did you find Dad?"
"Didn't say you did, just said you wanted to get laid." Dean arched his eyebrow as he started to chuckle. "Actually, I really don't think you know what I'm thinkin'. So if she's just a nurse to you, you won't mind if I make a couple moves? Been a while, a guy needs some action to make sure all of him has come back in tact. Unless of course you're lyin' to your big brother and you really do have a thing for her. Which is okay, you know. World's not gonna end because Sam Winchester has a crush." Dean's expression turned sober, and he snorted. "You really know how to ask me all the tough ones, don't you? Yeah, we found him. Things didn't... ah, quite work out. Not exactly a happy endin'."
"I don't have a crush. She's my nurse. That's probably illegal or something. She helped me. Go ahead, make the moves, I don't care. You're not her type. She wants someone that actually cares. She met a dude like you online one night, some detective. She came in all bothered the next day calling him a wanker... or something." Sam glanced back to the nurses' station, but Ailbe was gone. He was pretty sure she wouldn't go for someone like Dean... hoped she wouldn't, maybe. He turned back to Dean, not following. "Where is he?"
"You know what they say about denyin' somethin' too much, right, little brother?" Dean patted his brother's arm as he winked at him. "It's okay, I won't make any moves. We only ever fought over a girl once and we both know how that turned out. Actually, only I know how that turned out... Wow, this is really hard tryin' to think of things you remember." Dean shook his head. "No one's like me, Jimmy. I'm a unique friggen snowflake. Sounds like she needs the tall, dark, and nerdy. Hey wait, that's you!" Dean cleared his throat. "Dead, Sam. Dad's dead."
Sam snorted softly and shifted restlessly in the bed. "I'm not denying anything," came out of his mouth before he could stop it, making him sound like a complete idiot. "I have amnesia. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. You better get used to it, because I'm gonna milk it for all it's worth." The thought of him fighting with Dean over a girl was laughable. He really couldn't imagine that happening. What girl would be mental enough to want them both? But he didn't get a chance to analyse it any further. His mouth dropped open in shock and he stared at Dean in disbelief. "What? He... what? H-How... I mean... when?"
Dean couldn't take the look. Anything he'd been about to say about Sam milking the amnesia died on his lips as he pushed up out of his chair and started to pace the length of Sam's bed. Jesus, why did his brother have to forget three whole fucking years. This was torture. Dean had to relive every damn horrible moment, and telling Sam all over again was just breaking his heart. He rubbed at his chest like the muscle really was ripping apart in his chest and he sat back down and rest his elbows on his knees. "We found Dad while huntin' some vampires... It was kinda like old times. You and he fightin', me and him actin' like there ain't a ton of issues that need talkin' about... We stayed together for a little while. Even managed to find the Yellow Eyed Demon. Dad tried to go after him on his own... Then the son of a bitch actually possessed Dad for a little while. I couldn't kill him. It was Dad! I just... I couldn't. Patrocide ain't in my nature. Anyway, flashforward some, and we're all in the Impala... Truck slams into us, and you're the only one that came outta it kinda clean. I was in a coma, Dad was banged up pretty bad. I shoulda died. It was my time. Death came for me. She was actually kinda cute, but you... You wouldn't really let me go, and I don't think I wanted you to let me go. And Dad, well, he did what us Winchesters do best. He traded his soul for mine. Made a deal with the Yellow Eyed Demon, and he died instead of me. You got no idea how much I hated him for that."
Sam felt strangely like he wanted to throw up, only it was more a wrenching feeling deep in his gut, and he actually leaned over on his elbow towards the side of the bed in case he gave into the urge. It was hard enough trying to wrap his head around the fact their father was dead, let alone hearing about the soul trading. But the worst of it was hearing that Dean had nearly died. That just seemed to feel like it was slicing Sam in two, and he paled even more than he already was. It almost seemed an impossible feat. Hearing Dean talk about 'his time', Sam just couldn't swallow it and a lump formed in his throat that was really still trying to set his gag reflex into action. He swallowed heavily, opening his mouth a little to say something, but no words came at first. A deep frown appeared on his forehead and an odd sense of dejavu washed over him, almost like he was feeling like he had dreamt about what Dean had just said. He tried again to talk, his voice coming out hoarse. "Dude, the Impala?" he said, trying to keep it light. He wasn't sure he could face it all just yet.
Dean reached out to rub his hand against Sam's back, not even thinking about the fact that his shoes would be a prime target if his brother did decide to throw up. Not that he could blame him, his own stomach was clenching with discomfort. "Yeah, well... Me and Bobby worked pretty hard at gettin' it up and runnin'. It wasn't a pretty sight at first, but we got her goin'. No way I was givin' up my baby."
"Bobby?" Sam's head was starting to spin again. It was an information overload and he shot Dean an apologetic look, silently trying to send a sorry to his brother for not getting most of it. "I just... is the Impala okay or isn't it? Where is it?" he asked, sighing heavily in frustration at not being able to remember. Until now, it hadn't been an issue, but all of a sudden, it felt like he was fighting a battle to remember everything Dean was telling him he had forgotten. It was disconcerting hearing it, hearing you had been a part of it, and having absolutely no recollection of it. It was like a hangover, only of friggen Godzilla epic proportions.
"One of Dad's old hunter friends... Think a grizzly version of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Fatter, too. And a lot angrier..." Dean trailed off as he tilted his head, and tried to reassess his comparison. "Anyway, trust me, we'd be lost without him. You have actually met him before. Long time ago. The Impala's somethin' I was gonna ask you about, but good to know you remember. She's only my pride and joy, and now you've gone and parked her God knows where out there in New York City. You're the one that had her, man, not me. Can't take a car to Hell." His expression softened as he looked at Sam again. "Hey, look, just take it easy, okay? We'll figure everythin' out. We got time."
For some reason, hearing he had the Impala was a complete mind fuck for Sam. He had the Impala and he lost it. How did someone manage to lose a whole damn car? It was on the tip of his tongue to say sorry, but are you supposed to say sorry for things you don't even know about? "Sorry?" he offered meekly, shrinking back against the pillows and feeling like he was a kid again. "Time... yeah. I can do time. I think. I just... could really use a damn beer."
Dean turned his head to glance at the nurses' station as he pretended to need to rub his chin against his shoulder. "Might just have to wait until the next visit for the beer. I'll try and sneak some in. Meantime, you at least got your possessions? If you got the keys on you, I can try and find the Impala." He bit his lip as he looked at Sam with concern. Bitching him out about being stupid enough to lose the car would come when Sam was well enough to appreciate just how stupid he'd been. "I'll come back. I promise."
Sam had to take a moment to make sure Dean was serious, but he soon nodded, looking up at his brother. "Okay," he eventually agreed with a nod. "I should get some rest anyway. If I don't, I start puking like that chick off the Exorcist." He pointed to the cabinet under the nightstand. "There's stuff of mine in there, but I don't know what's there. I haven't looked. Haven't really had much need to. Just... where are you going? When will you come back?"
Dean had turned to pull open the cabinet, and was twisting forward awkwardly to look inside. He pulled out his car keys, and a fake ID for Sam - or rather Jimmy. There was a bag with suit all folded up inside it. No weapons. Dean pressed his lips together as he frowned, wondering if Sam really had gone in unarmed, or if what he'd been using was back at the scene of the accident. He sat back up after flicking the cabinet shut, and tried not to fall off his chair as a sudden wave of dizziness hit. "Whoa, head spin. Remind me not to do that again. I really don't need you puking up green peas, so rest is best. I got no idea since you can't remember, but I might be able to sweet talk one of those nurses into giving me some info about where you were found. Otherwise we're screwed if the cops find her, and her trunk full of toys that really don't belong in Happy Meals. I'll come back in a few hours, okay? Better get used to me being a fixture here. I'm sure the nurses won't mind a little extra eye candy."
Sam frowned. "When did you last sleep?" he found himself asking. He had been watching Dean rifle around in the cabinet, noticing the Impala keys in there. Well, that was one step down. Now just the fucking impossible task of finding the car in New York City. That was going to be about as easy as finding Paris Hilton without crabs. He felt the relief wash over him when Dean said he would be back in a few hours. Seems he was having a sudden case of separation anxiety. Not that anyone could blame him. "Happy Meal... I want a Happy Meal, too."
"Happy Meal, check. I'll add it to the least of contraband. Might just grab you some condoms too, just in case you decide you do wanna play a little doctors and nurses with Nurse Hottie. Man, her ass... But I'm not going there," Dean hastily added as he held up his hands in defence. "I last slept... before I died. I can sleep more when I know you're okay." And when he knew the Impala was okay, but Sam didn't need to think he was playing second fiddle to a car. He gave Sam's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I will be back, Sam."
Sam really tried not to think about Ailbe and condoms and her ass, and he had to shift in bed, hastily rearranging the blankets over his lap and legs. "Don't get me the friggen girls toy, either. I don't want any Strawberry Shortcake My Little Pony Crap," he had to add, and then gave Dean a small wave. "Come back, or I'll... I dunno, shove an IV pole up your ass... or something."
"You're feisty when you're forgetful, you know that," Dean responded with a smirk. He made a mental note to get Sam the girly toys anyway, now his brother had reminded him. He shifted his hand to ruffle his brother's hair affectionately, and just stood there for a moment to look at him. Sam was alive. He was doing his best impression of Jason Bourne, but at least he was alive.
Sam looked up at Dean and after a moment a smile appeared on his lips an he gave a slight nod. "Thanks for coming back, Dean..." he said quietly.
Dean just gave a nod, and raised a hand in a brief wave before he turned to find one of the nurses to con into revealing patient information. He blinked back tears that were pricking the backs of his eyes, having Sam back meaning more to him than his own life.
Dean Winchester
Supernatural
Words: 5752
Ailbe O'Loughlin [makeoutalright] used with permission.
- Heather Cortez
Co-written with notjustsammy
Dean Winchester couldn't even count the number of times he'd played FBI Agent in a hospital setting. Usually it was while him and Sam were on a hunt, not while one of them was actually in the hospital. He glanced around, and shuddered. He'd spent way too much time in one as a patient. First was the heart attack, and he really should have died. Second was when he was in that weird ass coma and his Dad sold his soul to get Dean's back... Either way, he hated them. He never wanted to spend any longer amongst the butt revealing gowns, and grumpy doctors any more than he had to.
Only Agent Olsen had gone and got himself hurt while Dean was stuck in Hell. He tucked his fake shield back into the inner pocket of his jacket and followed the sexy brunette nurse to Sam's room. She had one of the finest asses he'd seen since being reborn. She was definitely making the scrubs work for her even if the top wasn't as tight as he'd like. And really, she'd probably just look a lot better naked.
They rounded a corner and Dean was ushered into a room where Sam seemed to be by himself. Score one for their FBI scam. Being an officer of the law seemed to have its perks after all. He wet his lips and had been about to try and do a little scoring of his own when he caught a glance exchanged between Sam and the nurse and his eyebrow kicked up. Sammy didn't even need to be at full strength to be drawing in the girls. Dean was proud of him. At least he got one thing right while he wasn't around to do the big brother thing.
The nurse smiled at him, and Dean gave a nod. Any thoughts of hitting on her were gone since Dean never wanted to fight over a girl with brother again. He waited until the hot nurse left before going to his brother's side and dropping the FBI front. "Dude, you hitting that? And you aren't even at full capacity yet. Naughty nurse high five," he said as he held up his hand and waited for Sam to slap it.
Sam just looked at his brother's hand, a somewhat blank look on his face, before his dark eyes shifted up to Dean's face and he blinked. There was a hint of a confused frown appearing, too, and after his crap night hugging the toilet bowl, he was struggling to get his brain to actually work. Not that he suspected it had worked in a long time. He was aware his head was stuffed, feeling like he was on one big mindfuck since he woke up in hospital alone. In fact, right now, he thought he might be hallucinating Dean's presence. He had dreamt about it, what was one step more to hallucinations? A lot of painkillers had been ploughed into him over the previous few hours, even earning him a shot of morphine for his headache. It was a surprise Dean wasn't in a pink tutu and didn't come with a chorus line of chicks in fairy costumes.
He didn't say anything, just reached over far enough to give Dean a poke in the side to make sure he was real. He felt real enough. "Who are you?" he finally asked suspiciously, trying to cop a close look at Dean's eyes to see if they were going to pool black all of a sudden.
Dean dropped his hand. It probably was too much to assume that Sam would just give him a high five and they could pick up where they left off. There was going to be a lot of awkward 'you were in Hell' bullshit that Dean just really wanted to skip over. He didn't want to get into the details, didn't want to relive the horrors. Even if his nightmares weren't giving him much choice. "Okay, I deserve that. Sammy, it's me, your brother. Dean. I'm back." He held up his hand again, but this time briefly so that Sam would give him a moment. Dean stuck his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a small bottle of Holy Water. "See? I'll prove it." He popped the top of it, and downed the whole thing. If he had been a demon, there definitely would have been some pretty cool smoking effects right about now.
The frown was still set in Sam's features, a mix of confusion and lingering pain from the night before. "Back from where?" he continued to throw at his brother warily. He was sat up in the hospital bed, both Ailbe and his doctors adament he needed to stay in bed today as a precaution. Seems no one trusted his brain not to explode and land him in another coma. Even still, Sam was still Dean's little brother. He scrunched his nose up and maybe proceeded to pout just slightly. "Took your damn time about it, didn't you?" he added snappily, folding his arms defensively across his body.
Dean frowned a little himself as he looked at Sam, something not sitting quite right as he looked him over. He stepped in closer as the bottle was tucked back in his pocket, and his hand came to rest on Sam's shoulder as he gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You know me, man, I'm always fashionably late. Can't not make an entrance. I'm sorry it took me so long... Never would have gone anywhere in the first place if I'd had a choice. I was, ah... I was..." Dean faltered. "What do you remember about the last time you saw me?"
"That you're a big pussy," Sam offered, raising an eyebrow at his brother. He continued to keep his arms locked across his chest, some sort of defensive shield. He was thrown having Dean here, it didn't make sense all of a sudden. He couldn't stop putting a hand up to his head soon and rubbing his fingers briefly across his temple. "Where did you go?"
"How the head? They looking after you okay here? Any idea when you're allowed out? Although if that chick in here just now was my nurse, I'd never wanna leave." Dean pulled up a chair to sit beside his brother, leaning forward as he studied Sam's face in a long silence. "You don't need to know that now. We'll get you fixed up first."
Sam looked at Dean skeptically, huffing out an annoyed snort. "I had a head injury, I'm not brain damaged. You don't need to treat me like a kid. But I'm sure, whatever it was, was way more important to you than making sure your brother wasn't dead. You're just like Dad, can't even rely on you when I'm in a coma." It was a low blow, especially for Sam. But after all the pain he had been through, and trying to face this and the mess in his head without Dean's reassurance, it had left him feeling more than a little fragile and pissed off. All he knew was that Dean had been absent, and all of a sudden he was here and had no intentions of offering an explanation from beyond some other damn hunt or another. It was cutting very close to home like Sam's memories of their father.
Dean started to say something, but stopped. It wasn't going to help either of them if they got into a fight over who was the most like Dad again. As much as Dean loved their father, he really wasn't the greatest family role model. Not as far as sticking around went. Their Dad had tried to do the best he could, but hunting wasn't made for quality father-sons bonding. And yet Dean had still worshipped the ground he'd walked on. Maybe Dean really was screwed in the head. "Hell," he finally said, his tone low. "I was in Hell, Sammy. Don't you remember anything about the Hell Hounds? About me trading my soul to get you back? I had a year to live, remember? Nothing is more important than you, but I can't be here when I'm trapped in the world's worst Motel 6."
Sam looked at Dean like he was crazy. "Hell? What are you on about? Did you get drunk and sleep with an ugly chick or something? I don't even know what a Hell Hound is." He just continued to frown at his brother. he knew Dean was evasive, but this was bullshit. "Fine, don't tell me where the hell you were. I don't even care. I can survive on my own, anyway. You drag me outta college to just... just..." He waved his hand a little with another snort of annoyance. "I should just go back. Obviously you're doing fine on your own without me."
"Sammy, c'mon!" Dean couldn't help but let the frustration slip out. He really was telling the truth, and now Sam was feeding him this high and mighty crap about being alone and dragging him out of-- "You've got amnesia, don't you? That hit to the head shook a few screws loose, and now you're going Memento on me, only that guy really was batshit crazy with all the tattoos and Polaroids... Christ, I can't believe it. You've gone back to the future, man."
"Bullshit!" Sam cried in response, his own frustration surging to the forefront in reaction. "I do not have damn amnesia! Don't you think they would have told me if I had it? I'm surrounded by doctors! I just... haven't told them who I really am! They think I'm Jimmy Olsen and I'm cool with that right now. How was I supposed to know what landed me here? I didn't want to deal with getting interrogated about what I really do. I can't even watch that Coke ad on TV without hurling from all the damn... movement," he said, scrunching up his nose. Damn psychedelic marketing.
"And risk this?" Dean asked his brother as he gazed at him steadily, taking the outburst in his stride. God only knew they'd done worse to each other over the years, even if they were each other's best friend. It was what family was about though, right? Real family. It was about withstanding the bad times as well as the good. "You really don't think that not remembering how you got here was a little tip off? I mean, I get blow to the heads can fuck with some shit, but there would have been at least a memory of what you were doing right before, an idea of what we were hunting if I'd been with you. I'm sorry I wasn't here, Sam. I really am. It hurts seeing you in this place, but I'm here now. We just... I need you to remember because trying to get it through your abnormally large forehead that I was in Hell is just going to suck big time."
"Risk what?" Sam snapped back, reaching his tolerance threshold, which was apparently quite low right now. "They said it's normal for a patient not to remember the events of a trauma, dickwad. What are you, Dr Feelgood? I know what we were hunting right before. But do you think I was just gonna tell them and let them log it in a permanent medical record? It was a bitch angry poltergeist in our old home. We saw Mom, remember? And you think I'm the one with damn amnesia," he snorted, turning his head to look out the window at the dreary New York buildings.
"Sam, that was three years ago!" Dean dropped his head, and scrubbed his hand over his face as the other one rest next to Sam on the bed. Last thing Sam remembered was going back home, and seeing Mom. Dean wasn't about to go over the three years in between then and now. He couldn't. Too much of it fucking hurt. Why couldn't his brother just remember? "And to risk you having the angry outbursts! That's what. To risk stressing you out in case it made things worse. I don't want you tellin' 'em a damn thing, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to friggen ask you! I'm your brother."
It felt like someone had poured icy cold water down his back. Three years ago? Despite his protests, he wasn't stupid enough not to think something was fucked in his head. He knew it was, he just hadn't had the capacity to figure it out. In the early time of his hospital stay, he had been completely confused. He believed he was this Jimmy person. But slowly it started to come back, to know who he was. But something still wasn't right. There was those weird nightmares that caused excruciating pain in his head, and he at least knew Dean and that Dean was his brother. He knew Jess had been murdered and that he had packed college in to go hunting for whatever it was that killed her and their mother. But then he was here, from a bad accident no one knew about and he certainly couldn't remember. Even now, that squeezing headache was back and the nausea was starting to churn in his gut. He put his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes and resting his hand across his forehead. "I feel like crap," he mumbled, losing the energy to fight or maintain any angry outbursts. Three years? Did the head injury really cause amnesia and make him lose three years of his memory?
Dean took his brother's hand as he watched Sam. "Need me to buzz the nurse? Want some water, or, ah... a psychiatrist?" Dean tried to smile. "I know, how about a stripper? Give you a nice little lap dance, and you'll perk right up. I'm real sorry I had to burst your amnesiac bubble, Sammy. I tried to warn you that you didn't want to know. I wish I had been around, but I couldn't. I would have stopped you getting hurt if I could. You know that."
Sam was frowning, trying to fight the headache away. "Then why am I here? What did this? They said it wasn't a car crash. There was no car. Just me in some place on my own. They think it was an assault, but I dunno, Dean. It's gotta be something more, right? Something did this to me?" The confusion was evident in his voice, but there was also a plea to his brother behind the words. Truth was, Sam was scared that whatever did this to him would come back to finish him off, but he had found being in the hospital with a fucked head really did make one paranoid, especially with the nightmares... which he wasn't going to tell Dean about.
"Because you were stupid," Dean bit out before he could stop it. He raised his free hand to rub it over his mouth, and sighed as he slumped back in the chair. "Bobby said you went after Lilith. A long story you ain't even gonna remember, but just realise she's Hell's ultimate bitch. She's the reason I made it to Hell. Well, not quite the only reason, but definitely high up on the list. I'm stupid too. I guess you just had to get your vengeance on, but she beat you."
Sam just looked at Dean blankly. "A demon?" he asked, really not following, and wondering why a demon would have a name like Lilith. He didn't profess to be particularly deep right now. He did smirk and snigger before he could stop himself. "Lilith," he snorted in amusement.
Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam's reaction. He had to wonder how Sam would have felt regarding Lilith's original little girl vessel. It had been kind of amusing until the killing started. "You really have shaken a few marbles loose, haven't you? How am I ever gonna trust you to take care of yourself?"
Sam shrugged. "Maybe you can't anymore," he pointed out, meeting Dean's gaze. "What would you do if I can't?" he added in challenge. Life on the road, hunting, wasn't exactly conducive to looking after a brother with a screw loose who could maybe put them in more danger than the things they were hunting. He wasn't sure Dean would have much interest in a burden like that, either, not with hunting being his top priority.
Dean looked away, staring at the nurses gathered around their station. The pretty brunette was there, and he caught her looking at Sam. Her gaze flicked to meet Dean's, and she seemed embarrassed at being sprung. He glanced back at his brother. He'd been to Hell for Sam. He'd given his soul up so his brother would live. Now his brother was laid up in hospital from trying to kill a stupid demon bitch. He didn't even want to bring up Ruby. Better Sam didn't remember her, either. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Sam regardless of hunting. "I'd stay and help you out. I draw the line at changing any adult diapers."
Sam pulled a face and flipped Dean off. "I'm toilet trained. You're safe." But he did watch his brother intently for a moment, wondering if Dean really would draw the line if Sam was in any worse condition. He couldn't deny he had been mad at Dean for not being here, but he was glad he was back now, and after a few silent beats, he cleared his throat. "I'm kinda fucked in the head, dude. And I don't know how to fix it," he admitted.
Dean wasn't sure if he'd draw the line either, but he wasn't about to admit it to his brother. He liked to think he was there through thick and thin, but part of it was that if he were honest, he had never expected to make it to old age. He wasn't even sure if Sammy would once he had been back in the hunting game. And each time it came to Sam nearly dying, Dean did everything he could to make sure his brother lived. Surely that said something? "Maybe it's just time for us to stop for a bit until you do," Dean murmured as he leaned forward again, and rest his hand on Sam's arm.
Sam looked at Dean uncertainly. "Us? Sure you can just stop? What would you do?" he asked. But talking about it, it did seem like he was going to need at least a short while to recover. The pain was still crippling, and obviously he didn't have enough of a memory to know really what they could be dealing with. What if he had lost a lot vital information? Dean obviously knew a lot he didn't. A lot. Another frown appeared. "You were in Hell? What... what happened there? Why were you there?"
"I got no idea, but I'm sure I can figure out somethin'. Sure this place has a lot of things that go bump in the night, so I won't be completely in retirement. Just means we stop chasin' things cross country. Besides, I only just got back... I ain't got any ties right now. Nothin' that's more pressin' than my brother. We'll stay, okay? Just relax. Just remind me I'm Dean Olsen..." Dean's face twisted like he'd had a painful headache of his own, and he looked away again, checking to see no one was paying any attention. "Same ol', same ol'. Did a deal with a Crossroads Demon so you'd live. You... ah, died. For a little while. A year ago, I guess. Demon gave me a year to live before the Hounds would come collect my soul. I don't wanna talk about what went down, Sam. Not right now. It's not exactly bedside conversation."
Sam just listened quietly, biting on the corner of his lip. He wanted to give Dean a hug, but he knew he would get the general feigned indifference to it. "Maybe we should... get a place, or something. Here. For awhile. Short lease. I'm not sure how long I'm gonna need doctors. If they think I have someone to stay with, they might let me outta here. I mean, it's nice... they've been good..." He trailed off briefly and his gaze flicked momentarily to Ailbe out at the nurses' station. "Just don't like being laid up."
Dean didn't miss the gaze, and he smirked widely. "No, you just wanna get laid. And nothin' quite works like the amnesia patient just tryin' to find out who he is. It's cool, I get it. Just make sure you hang up a sock when we do get a place. I don't need to be scarred for life. Some things I can live without seein'. But we'll get the place. We'll do whatever you wanna do, Sammy. You can call the shots for a little while."
Sam snorted. "I didn't forget how to get laid," he scoffed. "And I know what you're thinking. It's nothing. She's just helped me, been with me when things get real crap. It's not pretty. She's one of the permanent nurses for this ward, so she's hear about every day, some nights." He rubbed at his head, remembering how much it had been hurting the night before. "Did you find Dad?"
"Didn't say you did, just said you wanted to get laid." Dean arched his eyebrow as he started to chuckle. "Actually, I really don't think you know what I'm thinkin'. So if she's just a nurse to you, you won't mind if I make a couple moves? Been a while, a guy needs some action to make sure all of him has come back in tact. Unless of course you're lyin' to your big brother and you really do have a thing for her. Which is okay, you know. World's not gonna end because Sam Winchester has a crush." Dean's expression turned sober, and he snorted. "You really know how to ask me all the tough ones, don't you? Yeah, we found him. Things didn't... ah, quite work out. Not exactly a happy endin'."
"I don't have a crush. She's my nurse. That's probably illegal or something. She helped me. Go ahead, make the moves, I don't care. You're not her type. She wants someone that actually cares. She met a dude like you online one night, some detective. She came in all bothered the next day calling him a wanker... or something." Sam glanced back to the nurses' station, but Ailbe was gone. He was pretty sure she wouldn't go for someone like Dean... hoped she wouldn't, maybe. He turned back to Dean, not following. "Where is he?"
"You know what they say about denyin' somethin' too much, right, little brother?" Dean patted his brother's arm as he winked at him. "It's okay, I won't make any moves. We only ever fought over a girl once and we both know how that turned out. Actually, only I know how that turned out... Wow, this is really hard tryin' to think of things you remember." Dean shook his head. "No one's like me, Jimmy. I'm a unique friggen snowflake. Sounds like she needs the tall, dark, and nerdy. Hey wait, that's you!" Dean cleared his throat. "Dead, Sam. Dad's dead."
Sam snorted softly and shifted restlessly in the bed. "I'm not denying anything," came out of his mouth before he could stop it, making him sound like a complete idiot. "I have amnesia. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. You better get used to it, because I'm gonna milk it for all it's worth." The thought of him fighting with Dean over a girl was laughable. He really couldn't imagine that happening. What girl would be mental enough to want them both? But he didn't get a chance to analyse it any further. His mouth dropped open in shock and he stared at Dean in disbelief. "What? He... what? H-How... I mean... when?"
Dean couldn't take the look. Anything he'd been about to say about Sam milking the amnesia died on his lips as he pushed up out of his chair and started to pace the length of Sam's bed. Jesus, why did his brother have to forget three whole fucking years. This was torture. Dean had to relive every damn horrible moment, and telling Sam all over again was just breaking his heart. He rubbed at his chest like the muscle really was ripping apart in his chest and he sat back down and rest his elbows on his knees. "We found Dad while huntin' some vampires... It was kinda like old times. You and he fightin', me and him actin' like there ain't a ton of issues that need talkin' about... We stayed together for a little while. Even managed to find the Yellow Eyed Demon. Dad tried to go after him on his own... Then the son of a bitch actually possessed Dad for a little while. I couldn't kill him. It was Dad! I just... I couldn't. Patrocide ain't in my nature. Anyway, flashforward some, and we're all in the Impala... Truck slams into us, and you're the only one that came outta it kinda clean. I was in a coma, Dad was banged up pretty bad. I shoulda died. It was my time. Death came for me. She was actually kinda cute, but you... You wouldn't really let me go, and I don't think I wanted you to let me go. And Dad, well, he did what us Winchesters do best. He traded his soul for mine. Made a deal with the Yellow Eyed Demon, and he died instead of me. You got no idea how much I hated him for that."
Sam felt strangely like he wanted to throw up, only it was more a wrenching feeling deep in his gut, and he actually leaned over on his elbow towards the side of the bed in case he gave into the urge. It was hard enough trying to wrap his head around the fact their father was dead, let alone hearing about the soul trading. But the worst of it was hearing that Dean had nearly died. That just seemed to feel like it was slicing Sam in two, and he paled even more than he already was. It almost seemed an impossible feat. Hearing Dean talk about 'his time', Sam just couldn't swallow it and a lump formed in his throat that was really still trying to set his gag reflex into action. He swallowed heavily, opening his mouth a little to say something, but no words came at first. A deep frown appeared on his forehead and an odd sense of dejavu washed over him, almost like he was feeling like he had dreamt about what Dean had just said. He tried again to talk, his voice coming out hoarse. "Dude, the Impala?" he said, trying to keep it light. He wasn't sure he could face it all just yet.
Dean reached out to rub his hand against Sam's back, not even thinking about the fact that his shoes would be a prime target if his brother did decide to throw up. Not that he could blame him, his own stomach was clenching with discomfort. "Yeah, well... Me and Bobby worked pretty hard at gettin' it up and runnin'. It wasn't a pretty sight at first, but we got her goin'. No way I was givin' up my baby."
"Bobby?" Sam's head was starting to spin again. It was an information overload and he shot Dean an apologetic look, silently trying to send a sorry to his brother for not getting most of it. "I just... is the Impala okay or isn't it? Where is it?" he asked, sighing heavily in frustration at not being able to remember. Until now, it hadn't been an issue, but all of a sudden, it felt like he was fighting a battle to remember everything Dean was telling him he had forgotten. It was disconcerting hearing it, hearing you had been a part of it, and having absolutely no recollection of it. It was like a hangover, only of friggen Godzilla epic proportions.
"One of Dad's old hunter friends... Think a grizzly version of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Fatter, too. And a lot angrier..." Dean trailed off as he tilted his head, and tried to reassess his comparison. "Anyway, trust me, we'd be lost without him. You have actually met him before. Long time ago. The Impala's somethin' I was gonna ask you about, but good to know you remember. She's only my pride and joy, and now you've gone and parked her God knows where out there in New York City. You're the one that had her, man, not me. Can't take a car to Hell." His expression softened as he looked at Sam again. "Hey, look, just take it easy, okay? We'll figure everythin' out. We got time."
For some reason, hearing he had the Impala was a complete mind fuck for Sam. He had the Impala and he lost it. How did someone manage to lose a whole damn car? It was on the tip of his tongue to say sorry, but are you supposed to say sorry for things you don't even know about? "Sorry?" he offered meekly, shrinking back against the pillows and feeling like he was a kid again. "Time... yeah. I can do time. I think. I just... could really use a damn beer."
Dean turned his head to glance at the nurses' station as he pretended to need to rub his chin against his shoulder. "Might just have to wait until the next visit for the beer. I'll try and sneak some in. Meantime, you at least got your possessions? If you got the keys on you, I can try and find the Impala." He bit his lip as he looked at Sam with concern. Bitching him out about being stupid enough to lose the car would come when Sam was well enough to appreciate just how stupid he'd been. "I'll come back. I promise."
Sam had to take a moment to make sure Dean was serious, but he soon nodded, looking up at his brother. "Okay," he eventually agreed with a nod. "I should get some rest anyway. If I don't, I start puking like that chick off the Exorcist." He pointed to the cabinet under the nightstand. "There's stuff of mine in there, but I don't know what's there. I haven't looked. Haven't really had much need to. Just... where are you going? When will you come back?"
Dean had turned to pull open the cabinet, and was twisting forward awkwardly to look inside. He pulled out his car keys, and a fake ID for Sam - or rather Jimmy. There was a bag with suit all folded up inside it. No weapons. Dean pressed his lips together as he frowned, wondering if Sam really had gone in unarmed, or if what he'd been using was back at the scene of the accident. He sat back up after flicking the cabinet shut, and tried not to fall off his chair as a sudden wave of dizziness hit. "Whoa, head spin. Remind me not to do that again. I really don't need you puking up green peas, so rest is best. I got no idea since you can't remember, but I might be able to sweet talk one of those nurses into giving me some info about where you were found. Otherwise we're screwed if the cops find her, and her trunk full of toys that really don't belong in Happy Meals. I'll come back in a few hours, okay? Better get used to me being a fixture here. I'm sure the nurses won't mind a little extra eye candy."
Sam frowned. "When did you last sleep?" he found himself asking. He had been watching Dean rifle around in the cabinet, noticing the Impala keys in there. Well, that was one step down. Now just the fucking impossible task of finding the car in New York City. That was going to be about as easy as finding Paris Hilton without crabs. He felt the relief wash over him when Dean said he would be back in a few hours. Seems he was having a sudden case of separation anxiety. Not that anyone could blame him. "Happy Meal... I want a Happy Meal, too."
"Happy Meal, check. I'll add it to the least of contraband. Might just grab you some condoms too, just in case you decide you do wanna play a little doctors and nurses with Nurse Hottie. Man, her ass... But I'm not going there," Dean hastily added as he held up his hands in defence. "I last slept... before I died. I can sleep more when I know you're okay." And when he knew the Impala was okay, but Sam didn't need to think he was playing second fiddle to a car. He gave Sam's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I will be back, Sam."
Sam really tried not to think about Ailbe and condoms and her ass, and he had to shift in bed, hastily rearranging the blankets over his lap and legs. "Don't get me the friggen girls toy, either. I don't want any Strawberry Shortcake My Little Pony Crap," he had to add, and then gave Dean a small wave. "Come back, or I'll... I dunno, shove an IV pole up your ass... or something."
"You're feisty when you're forgetful, you know that," Dean responded with a smirk. He made a mental note to get Sam the girly toys anyway, now his brother had reminded him. He shifted his hand to ruffle his brother's hair affectionately, and just stood there for a moment to look at him. Sam was alive. He was doing his best impression of Jason Bourne, but at least he was alive.
Sam looked up at Dean and after a moment a smile appeared on his lips an he gave a slight nod. "Thanks for coming back, Dean..." he said quietly.
Dean just gave a nod, and raised a hand in a brief wave before he turned to find one of the nurses to con into revealing patient information. He blinked back tears that were pricking the backs of his eyes, having Sam back meaning more to him than his own life.
Dean Winchester
Supernatural
Words: 5752
Ailbe O'Loughlin [makeoutalright] used with permission.