Lost and Found, 1/1, h/c fic challenge
Title: Lost and Found
Author: asilia
Rating: PG13
Genre: Gen
Characters: Sam, Dean, Bobby
Word count: 2440
Summary: From the h/c fic challenge. Sam gets his soul back and now has to deal with all the trauma of his time in hell and the year of being without Dean. Cue comforting!Dean and Bobby and Castiel
Spoilers: General spoilers for the overall plot of season 6, although pretty much AU after 6x07
Disclaimer: I went a little off-track with this prompt because by the time I started writing there were already so many fics about that exact topic so I struggled a bit with being original. Also, I somehow didn't manage to fit Cas into the story at all.
Dean was sitting in the same chair where he had spent the better part of the past two days; he’d only moved to use the bathroom or to grab a quick bite to eat from the kitchen.
He could feel Bobby’s eyes on him; the worry lines on the older man’s face were more pronounced than ever as he looked thoughtfully into the room where Dean and Sam always used to sleep when they’d been staying at his house before.
Now, only one bed was occupied; the other one hadn’t been slept in for days because Dean simply refused to move that far away from Sam’s side for more than a couple of minutes.
It was the third day after Castiel had shoved Sam’s soul back into his body and the more time passed, the more Bobby wondered whether that had been such a great idea after all.
Because Sam hadn’t woken up yet; they had expected as much, considering the boy hadn’t slept in over a year. What they hadn’t been prepared for was that Sam wasn’t sleeping peacefully at all. At first he had been screaming until he was hoarse; long pain-filled screams that had echoed through the entire house and that had made Bobby want to smash something out of sheer frustration and helplessness. Dean had simply sat by his brother’s side, silent tears running down his cheeks while Sam was screaming his lungs out.
After what had seemed like an eternity, the screams had been reduced to desperate whimpers; and then the fever had started. Ever since, Sam had been tossing and turning on the bed, mumbling incoherently. He went from soaking his clothes with sweat to shivering violently; sometimes he’d start sobbing, his eyes squeezed tightly shut while tears were streaming down his face.
But not once had he woken up.
Dean was a constant presence at his brother’s side; supplying warm blankets or cold wash cloths, trying to force some water past Sam’s trembling lips, his eyes never leaving his brother’s face.
“Dean?” Bobby spoke quietly. “I made dinner. You should eat something.”
Dean wordlessly shook his head.
Bobby sighed and stepped forward into the room.
“You won’t do your brother any good by starving yourself, boy. He’ll be fine on his own for a few minutes.”
To his surprise, Dean’s resolve to stay by Sam’s side seemed to deflate and his shoulders slumped; then he slowly eased himself out of the chair and shuffled past Bobby towards the kitchen. The older man turned to follow but when both men reached the doorway, a sound behind them caused them to stop in their tracks.
“Dean.”
~
Dean turned around so fast and hurried back into the room that he almost shoved Bobby into the nearest wall.
“Sammy?”
Dean fell to his knees next to his brother’s bed, his hands hovering uncertainly over Sam’s body.
Bobby watched in amazement as Sam blinked and then slowly turned his head, his eyes latching onto his brother’s face with an air of desperation that made the older man’s heart ache. Dean lifted a trembling hand and gently pushed Sam’s damp hair back from his eyes. Sam actually seemed to lean into the touch and a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob escaped Dean’s throat.
“Dean.”
Sam’s voice cracked on the one word and a moment later, fresh tears were running down his face. Dean didn’t hesitate for a second; with one quick movement he was on the bed and had pulled Sam into his arm, allowing his little brother to bury his face in Dean’s shirt as quiet sobs shook Sam’s body.
Bobby quietly moved out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
~
48 hours later Bobby wasn’t so sure whether the fact that Sam was awake for a large part of the day now was such an improvement after all.
For one, Sam still seemed pretty much out of it; his eyes kept darting around the room restlessly, hardly ever focusing on anything or anyone for more than a few seconds. His movements were shaky and erratic and he hardly seemed to hear it when someone spoke to him. It was as if Sam was deep in his own world where no one could reach him.
Sam didn’t talk; the only word they’d heard from him was ‘Dean’. He’d whisper his brother’s name at random moments, seemingly without expecting a reaction; at other times Sam’s tone became more urgent, panicked even, and he wouldn’t calm down and stop repeating that one word until Dean was by his side again, gently pulling Sam into his arms and holding him tightly.
Dean was the only one who was allowed to touch Sam; Bobby had once laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder and Sam had jumped, and started screaming. It had taken Dean over an hour to get his brother to calm down and ever since Bobby had kept a safe distance.
Now Dean was even less willing to leave Sam alone so he spent almost all of his time sitting once more in his chair, watching quietly as Sam fidgeted on the bed.
When Bobby walked into the bedroom on the third day after Sam had woken up, he was surprised to hear Dean talk. At first he thought that the other man must be on the phone with someone but after he had lingered in the doorway for a couple of minutes, Bobby realised that Dean was talking to Sam.
From then on, Dean seemed to keep up a constant flow of stories and random anecdotes; from what Bobby caught of it he was telling Sam about every hunt they had done, every place they had visited, every person they had ever met.
Surprisingly enough, the sound of Dean’s voice seemed to soothe Sam; Bobby was pretty sure that Sam wasn’t actually listening to what Dean was telling him but he stopped moving around and his eyes remained fixed on his brother for longer periods at a time.
For a long time, that was the only progress he made.
~
After two weeks, Bobby gave up on hovering close by all the time; instead he threw himself back into hunting, leaving the brothers alone for days at a time. He felt bad about it, but Dean had assured him that they’d be fine and every time he returned to his place, things were just the same as when he had left.
~
Dean could see the disappointment in Bobby’s eyes whenever he came home and there was still no apparent change in Sam. The older man was quick to hide his feelings, to smile at them and to launch into a detailed report about the hunt he’d just finished but he wasn’t fooling Dean.
It was obvious that Bobby believed that Sam wouldn’t get better and even though he’d never said anything, Dean had seen him check the internet for mental health institutions. And it was clear that Bobby didn’t believe him when Dean told him that Sam was doing better.
The thing was, Sam was doing better.
He still wasn’t talking and he was twitchy and nervous; he had violent nightmares and kept spacing out during the time that he was awake but Dean could still see the small improvements.
For one, Sam had started to follow Dean around the house and the yard, instead of staying in his room all the time. Wherever Dean went, Sam would shuffle along behind him, sometimes loosely tangling his fingers in Dean’s shirt as if to make sure that he wouldn’t lose sight of his brother.
But Sam only did so when it was just the two of them; as soon as Bobby was home, he’d hide in his room and no matter what Dean said he refused to come out until Bobby was gone again.
Sam was also eating again; it took some encouragement on Dean’s part but when they sat down at the table together and Dean put a full plate under his brother’s nose, Sam would usually pick up the fork and clumsily shove small bites into his mouth.
It wasn’t much but considering everything that had happened, Dean figured he couldn’t really complain.
~
One day, about two months after Sam had gotten his soul back, Dean woke up alone.
At first, he wasn’t even sure what was different but then he realised that he was sprawled out on the narrow bed, his legs half hanging over the edge, his arm thrown over the pillow, and there was no one beside him.
After a few days, Dean had figured out that Sam slept better when Dean was nearby and so Dean had finally given up on sleeping in a chair and had instead climbed into bed next to Sam every night. It wasn’t the most comfortable way to sleep because neither of them was exactly small but with Dean sleeping by his side, Sam’s nightmares were less frequent and less violent and so Dean had decided that his own comfort was a small sacrifice.
But right now, there was no sign of Sam anywhere, which was really unusual, given the fact that Sam hardly ever left the room, not even to use the bathroom, and when he did, he always stayed close to Dean.
Panic rising in his gut, Dean jumped off the bed and hurried out of the room, already calling out Sam’s name. The house was quiet and there was no sign of his brother anywhere.
With all kinds of horrible scenarios playing themselves out in his mind, Dean ran outside, his eyes frantically scanning the yard.
The Impala was parked a little to the side of the house, in the same spot where Dean had stopped on the day he had brought an unconscious Sam to Bobby’s after Castiel had worked his magic and had restored Sam’s soul.
Dean frowned and slowly made his way over to his car, a wave of relief washing over him when he recognised the familiar shape of his brother in the front seat. Slowly, careful not to startle Sam, Dean opened the door on the driver’s side and slid into the car.
Sam didn’t look up; instead his eyes were fixed on his own hands that were folded in his lap. Dean noticed that the glove compartment had been opened and apparently been searched through, too. He narrowed his eyes in confusion; what on earth was Sam doing outside on his own, rummaging through their car?
“Sammy, you okay?” Dean asked quietly when after a couple of minutes Sam still hadn’t moved or even acknowledged his presence.
“You didn’t find it.”
Dean blinked; he wasn’t even sure if he had actually heard right, if it had really been Sam’s voice or if he had started hallucinating. He glanced at his brother’s face but Sam was still looking down, his expression unchanged.
“Sam?” Dean tried again.
“I thought you’d find it.”
This time, Dean was sure that it was Sam who had spoken because he could actually see his brother’s lips move. He fought down the urged to whoop out loudly because he was pretty certain that that would just spook Sam and would probably cause him to withdraw again completely.
“What didn’t I find, Sammy?” Dean asked gently, keeping his voice low but he couldn’t quite hide the emotions that were colouring his tone.
Sam slowly reached out and then dropped something in Dean’s lap, quickly withdrawing his hand again.
Dean’s chest tightened as he picked up the leather cord from where it had landed on his thigh, staring in wonder at the pendant that was glimmering faintly in the early morning sun.
He swallowed thickly, trying to say something but he couldn’t make his voice work as he stared at the amulet he had believed to be lost forever. After Sam had been gone, Dean had even gone back to the motel where he had thrown the amulet in the trash but of course no one there had found it so he had resigned himself to the fact that he had lost the one thing that he’d had left of his little brother.
“Where… where did you get that?” Dean finally managed to croak out.
Sam just shrugged, as he stared fixedly ahead, never turning his head towards Dean. His hands were twitching nervously in his lap and Dean automatically reached over to still them but pulled away again quickly when Sam jumped at his touch.
“Sammy?”
Dean was starting to feel a little freaked out by the whole situation.
“You threw it away.”
Sam’s voice was barely more than a whisper and he suddenly sounded so hurt, so young that Dean’s heart clenched painfully.
“I know, Sammy. I went to look for it though.”
That got Sam’s attention and he slowly turned around to look at Dean; Dean’s breath hitched in his throat because he couldn’t even remember the last time that Sam had really looked at him.
Dean’s fist closed around the amulet and he took a deep breath as he met his brother’s gaze.
“Sam, why didn’t you just give it to me?” he asked gently.
“I didn’t know if you still wanted to have it.”
Sam lowered his gaze again, staring down at his hands.
Dean didn’t really know what to say to that so he did the only thing he could think of: he slipped the leather cord over his head, feeling the familiar weight of the amulet set against his chest. When he lifted his head, Sam was looking at him again and Dean could have sworn that there was the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his little brother’s mouth.
~
When Bobby returned a couple of days later he was surprised to find both boys sitting in the kitchen together, mugs of coffee in front of them, the table scattered with books and loose pages. He was even more surprised when Dean just grunted in greeting and Sam’s eyes briefly flickered in his direction but nothing else happened.
Sam didn’t make any attempt to flee the room like he had done for months and Dean looked… relaxed. Calm. Content. Bobby blinked in confusion.
“Everything alright around here?” he finally asked.
Dean looked up at that, and smiled. Then he reached out and put his hand over Sam’s that was resting on the table between them. Sam glanced up at his brother from behind his overlong bangs and then, he smiled.
Dean smiled back, gave Sam’s hand a quick squeeze before he turned back towards Bobby.
“Yeah, everything’s okay. We’re okay.”
Author: asilia
Rating: PG13
Genre: Gen
Characters: Sam, Dean, Bobby
Word count: 2440
Summary: From the h/c fic challenge. Sam gets his soul back and now has to deal with all the trauma of his time in hell and the year of being without Dean. Cue comforting!Dean and Bobby and Castiel
Spoilers: General spoilers for the overall plot of season 6, although pretty much AU after 6x07
Disclaimer: I went a little off-track with this prompt because by the time I started writing there were already so many fics about that exact topic so I struggled a bit with being original. Also, I somehow didn't manage to fit Cas into the story at all.
Dean was sitting in the same chair where he had spent the better part of the past two days; he’d only moved to use the bathroom or to grab a quick bite to eat from the kitchen.
He could feel Bobby’s eyes on him; the worry lines on the older man’s face were more pronounced than ever as he looked thoughtfully into the room where Dean and Sam always used to sleep when they’d been staying at his house before.
Now, only one bed was occupied; the other one hadn’t been slept in for days because Dean simply refused to move that far away from Sam’s side for more than a couple of minutes.
It was the third day after Castiel had shoved Sam’s soul back into his body and the more time passed, the more Bobby wondered whether that had been such a great idea after all.
Because Sam hadn’t woken up yet; they had expected as much, considering the boy hadn’t slept in over a year. What they hadn’t been prepared for was that Sam wasn’t sleeping peacefully at all. At first he had been screaming until he was hoarse; long pain-filled screams that had echoed through the entire house and that had made Bobby want to smash something out of sheer frustration and helplessness. Dean had simply sat by his brother’s side, silent tears running down his cheeks while Sam was screaming his lungs out.
After what had seemed like an eternity, the screams had been reduced to desperate whimpers; and then the fever had started. Ever since, Sam had been tossing and turning on the bed, mumbling incoherently. He went from soaking his clothes with sweat to shivering violently; sometimes he’d start sobbing, his eyes squeezed tightly shut while tears were streaming down his face.
But not once had he woken up.
Dean was a constant presence at his brother’s side; supplying warm blankets or cold wash cloths, trying to force some water past Sam’s trembling lips, his eyes never leaving his brother’s face.
“Dean?” Bobby spoke quietly. “I made dinner. You should eat something.”
Dean wordlessly shook his head.
Bobby sighed and stepped forward into the room.
“You won’t do your brother any good by starving yourself, boy. He’ll be fine on his own for a few minutes.”
To his surprise, Dean’s resolve to stay by Sam’s side seemed to deflate and his shoulders slumped; then he slowly eased himself out of the chair and shuffled past Bobby towards the kitchen. The older man turned to follow but when both men reached the doorway, a sound behind them caused them to stop in their tracks.
“Dean.”
~
Dean turned around so fast and hurried back into the room that he almost shoved Bobby into the nearest wall.
“Sammy?”
Dean fell to his knees next to his brother’s bed, his hands hovering uncertainly over Sam’s body.
Bobby watched in amazement as Sam blinked and then slowly turned his head, his eyes latching onto his brother’s face with an air of desperation that made the older man’s heart ache. Dean lifted a trembling hand and gently pushed Sam’s damp hair back from his eyes. Sam actually seemed to lean into the touch and a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob escaped Dean’s throat.
“Dean.”
Sam’s voice cracked on the one word and a moment later, fresh tears were running down his face. Dean didn’t hesitate for a second; with one quick movement he was on the bed and had pulled Sam into his arm, allowing his little brother to bury his face in Dean’s shirt as quiet sobs shook Sam’s body.
Bobby quietly moved out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
~
48 hours later Bobby wasn’t so sure whether the fact that Sam was awake for a large part of the day now was such an improvement after all.
For one, Sam still seemed pretty much out of it; his eyes kept darting around the room restlessly, hardly ever focusing on anything or anyone for more than a few seconds. His movements were shaky and erratic and he hardly seemed to hear it when someone spoke to him. It was as if Sam was deep in his own world where no one could reach him.
Sam didn’t talk; the only word they’d heard from him was ‘Dean’. He’d whisper his brother’s name at random moments, seemingly without expecting a reaction; at other times Sam’s tone became more urgent, panicked even, and he wouldn’t calm down and stop repeating that one word until Dean was by his side again, gently pulling Sam into his arms and holding him tightly.
Dean was the only one who was allowed to touch Sam; Bobby had once laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder and Sam had jumped, and started screaming. It had taken Dean over an hour to get his brother to calm down and ever since Bobby had kept a safe distance.
Now Dean was even less willing to leave Sam alone so he spent almost all of his time sitting once more in his chair, watching quietly as Sam fidgeted on the bed.
When Bobby walked into the bedroom on the third day after Sam had woken up, he was surprised to hear Dean talk. At first he thought that the other man must be on the phone with someone but after he had lingered in the doorway for a couple of minutes, Bobby realised that Dean was talking to Sam.
From then on, Dean seemed to keep up a constant flow of stories and random anecdotes; from what Bobby caught of it he was telling Sam about every hunt they had done, every place they had visited, every person they had ever met.
Surprisingly enough, the sound of Dean’s voice seemed to soothe Sam; Bobby was pretty sure that Sam wasn’t actually listening to what Dean was telling him but he stopped moving around and his eyes remained fixed on his brother for longer periods at a time.
For a long time, that was the only progress he made.
~
After two weeks, Bobby gave up on hovering close by all the time; instead he threw himself back into hunting, leaving the brothers alone for days at a time. He felt bad about it, but Dean had assured him that they’d be fine and every time he returned to his place, things were just the same as when he had left.
~
Dean could see the disappointment in Bobby’s eyes whenever he came home and there was still no apparent change in Sam. The older man was quick to hide his feelings, to smile at them and to launch into a detailed report about the hunt he’d just finished but he wasn’t fooling Dean.
It was obvious that Bobby believed that Sam wouldn’t get better and even though he’d never said anything, Dean had seen him check the internet for mental health institutions. And it was clear that Bobby didn’t believe him when Dean told him that Sam was doing better.
The thing was, Sam was doing better.
He still wasn’t talking and he was twitchy and nervous; he had violent nightmares and kept spacing out during the time that he was awake but Dean could still see the small improvements.
For one, Sam had started to follow Dean around the house and the yard, instead of staying in his room all the time. Wherever Dean went, Sam would shuffle along behind him, sometimes loosely tangling his fingers in Dean’s shirt as if to make sure that he wouldn’t lose sight of his brother.
But Sam only did so when it was just the two of them; as soon as Bobby was home, he’d hide in his room and no matter what Dean said he refused to come out until Bobby was gone again.
Sam was also eating again; it took some encouragement on Dean’s part but when they sat down at the table together and Dean put a full plate under his brother’s nose, Sam would usually pick up the fork and clumsily shove small bites into his mouth.
It wasn’t much but considering everything that had happened, Dean figured he couldn’t really complain.
~
One day, about two months after Sam had gotten his soul back, Dean woke up alone.
At first, he wasn’t even sure what was different but then he realised that he was sprawled out on the narrow bed, his legs half hanging over the edge, his arm thrown over the pillow, and there was no one beside him.
After a few days, Dean had figured out that Sam slept better when Dean was nearby and so Dean had finally given up on sleeping in a chair and had instead climbed into bed next to Sam every night. It wasn’t the most comfortable way to sleep because neither of them was exactly small but with Dean sleeping by his side, Sam’s nightmares were less frequent and less violent and so Dean had decided that his own comfort was a small sacrifice.
But right now, there was no sign of Sam anywhere, which was really unusual, given the fact that Sam hardly ever left the room, not even to use the bathroom, and when he did, he always stayed close to Dean.
Panic rising in his gut, Dean jumped off the bed and hurried out of the room, already calling out Sam’s name. The house was quiet and there was no sign of his brother anywhere.
With all kinds of horrible scenarios playing themselves out in his mind, Dean ran outside, his eyes frantically scanning the yard.
The Impala was parked a little to the side of the house, in the same spot where Dean had stopped on the day he had brought an unconscious Sam to Bobby’s after Castiel had worked his magic and had restored Sam’s soul.
Dean frowned and slowly made his way over to his car, a wave of relief washing over him when he recognised the familiar shape of his brother in the front seat. Slowly, careful not to startle Sam, Dean opened the door on the driver’s side and slid into the car.
Sam didn’t look up; instead his eyes were fixed on his own hands that were folded in his lap. Dean noticed that the glove compartment had been opened and apparently been searched through, too. He narrowed his eyes in confusion; what on earth was Sam doing outside on his own, rummaging through their car?
“Sammy, you okay?” Dean asked quietly when after a couple of minutes Sam still hadn’t moved or even acknowledged his presence.
“You didn’t find it.”
Dean blinked; he wasn’t even sure if he had actually heard right, if it had really been Sam’s voice or if he had started hallucinating. He glanced at his brother’s face but Sam was still looking down, his expression unchanged.
“Sam?” Dean tried again.
“I thought you’d find it.”
This time, Dean was sure that it was Sam who had spoken because he could actually see his brother’s lips move. He fought down the urged to whoop out loudly because he was pretty certain that that would just spook Sam and would probably cause him to withdraw again completely.
“What didn’t I find, Sammy?” Dean asked gently, keeping his voice low but he couldn’t quite hide the emotions that were colouring his tone.
Sam slowly reached out and then dropped something in Dean’s lap, quickly withdrawing his hand again.
Dean’s chest tightened as he picked up the leather cord from where it had landed on his thigh, staring in wonder at the pendant that was glimmering faintly in the early morning sun.
He swallowed thickly, trying to say something but he couldn’t make his voice work as he stared at the amulet he had believed to be lost forever. After Sam had been gone, Dean had even gone back to the motel where he had thrown the amulet in the trash but of course no one there had found it so he had resigned himself to the fact that he had lost the one thing that he’d had left of his little brother.
“Where… where did you get that?” Dean finally managed to croak out.
Sam just shrugged, as he stared fixedly ahead, never turning his head towards Dean. His hands were twitching nervously in his lap and Dean automatically reached over to still them but pulled away again quickly when Sam jumped at his touch.
“Sammy?”
Dean was starting to feel a little freaked out by the whole situation.
“You threw it away.”
Sam’s voice was barely more than a whisper and he suddenly sounded so hurt, so young that Dean’s heart clenched painfully.
“I know, Sammy. I went to look for it though.”
That got Sam’s attention and he slowly turned around to look at Dean; Dean’s breath hitched in his throat because he couldn’t even remember the last time that Sam had really looked at him.
Dean’s fist closed around the amulet and he took a deep breath as he met his brother’s gaze.
“Sam, why didn’t you just give it to me?” he asked gently.
“I didn’t know if you still wanted to have it.”
Sam lowered his gaze again, staring down at his hands.
Dean didn’t really know what to say to that so he did the only thing he could think of: he slipped the leather cord over his head, feeling the familiar weight of the amulet set against his chest. When he lifted his head, Sam was looking at him again and Dean could have sworn that there was the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his little brother’s mouth.
~
When Bobby returned a couple of days later he was surprised to find both boys sitting in the kitchen together, mugs of coffee in front of them, the table scattered with books and loose pages. He was even more surprised when Dean just grunted in greeting and Sam’s eyes briefly flickered in his direction but nothing else happened.
Sam didn’t make any attempt to flee the room like he had done for months and Dean looked… relaxed. Calm. Content. Bobby blinked in confusion.
“Everything alright around here?” he finally asked.
Dean looked up at that, and smiled. Then he reached out and put his hand over Sam’s that was resting on the table between them. Sam glanced up at his brother from behind his overlong bangs and then, he smiled.
Dean smiled back, gave Sam’s hand a quick squeeze before he turned back towards Bobby.
“Yeah, everything’s okay. We’re okay.”