Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dean thought he’d probably have the moment when he brought his unresponsive baby brother into the hospital seared into his brain forever. 

He’d gotten Sam in the Impala when they were outside that old church. At that point he’d still been breathing, uneven and shallow, but it had been okay because Sam’s eyes were cracked open and he was speaking murmured nonsense. 

Then his eyes rolled back into his head and he went even more limp than he’d been before. The only good that came from that was the fact that Sam’s face finally relaxed a little, so in that moment it no longer looked like he was enduring the most painful thing that a human could withstand. 

Dean had driven to the closest hospital as fast as possible, because even though Sam was practically on Dean's lap the entire ride, his pulse was getting harder and harder to find. By the time they arrived, it didn’t even look like Sam was breathing.

And then he’d come in the hospital carrying Sam— and Sam had been so much lighter than he should’ve been, it was so so wrong — and as he screamed for help, the only thing keeping him from breaking into a sob being the mission at hand, if he was gonna do this he had to do it professionally, this was just another job, just another random citizen, just another inconvenient injury, things would be fine, but he couldn’t feel Sam’s pulse anymore and he was freaking out. 

They’d taken Sam from him and it was all out of Dean's hands. There was hospital staff keeping him from his dying little brother, and this wasn’t supposed to happen, Sam was supposed to be okay, they were willing to leave the gates of hell open for each other and he’s just gonna get Sam ripped away from him right after? No. No, that couldn’t happen, please, that couldn’t happen. 

His knees gave out on him and he’d sat on the floor with his legs drawn up to his chest and his arms over his head for a little while, just trying to keep himself together. 

When he did finally look up, there were people staring at him. He wanted to bash all their heads against the nearest wall. He probably would’ve done it too if he hadn’t still been in shock. 

It was after mounds of paperwork, too many questions, and waiting for hours that they finally let him see Sam. Finally. 

The second Dean saw Sam in the hospital bed he nearly started weeping like a baby. Every other time Dean had come into a hospital room and found his little brother on the bed, Sam had always been awake to greet him with a reassuring smile. Even when the kid was dying of literal exhaustion he still gave Dean an attempt at a smile and told him it was okay. And even when it wasn’t, things were okay because Sam said so. 

Now though, Sam lay quietly on the bed, eyes closed and hands limp at his side. 

At least his chest was just barely moving. Thanks to all the machines keeping it that way.

A doctor came in. A nurse too. They both told him that Sam was in a coma. That his body had shut down in order to protect itself because his insides are all burnt and screwed up and a lot of the doctors seem stumped on how it could’ve even happened in the first place. They told him that if there was no changes for the better that while the machines would keep Sam alive he’d be mentally dead. Gone. Just like that. No telling when, eventually it’d just happen. 

They told him it was in God's hands. They told him they’d done all they could. They told him that Sam would likely never recover. They told him he needed to consider the inevitable outcome. 

And while he yelled at the Doctor for suggesting his baby brother's fate was solely in God's hands, he still went to the hospital chapel, got on his knees and prayed, begged, and cried for someone to help. Anyone. To God, to Cas, to any angel, any being powerful enough that could hear. 

He sat there and waited. Nothing. 

Then he headed back to Sam’s room and sat in the chair next to the bed. He sat and he waited more. And waited. And waited. A grief counselor came in but he tried his best to ignore her. When he couldn’t take it anymore he told her to get the hell out, because he’s not grieving.  

He studied his brother’s weary face, the scratches under his eye that he didn’t remember being there when he’d left Sam at the church. The bandages on his arm. The soft rise and fall of his chest. The tubes and machines wrapped all around him. Hooked to his arms, forced down his throat. 

Everything about it was wrong. 

*****

But something kept me standing by that hospital bed.

I should have quit, but instead I took care of you.

You made me sleep and uneven, and I didn't believe them

When they told me that there was no saving you.

*****

Eventually he fell asleep by accident, but even in his dreams he’s still sitting by the bed, beside Sam. Waiting. In the dream he held Sam’s hand and it twitched in his grasp. Deans bottom lip quivered as tears gathered in his eyes and he stood up and started screaming at his brother to wake up. He knocked his chair over, and kicked the nightstand table that was by the wall, yelling at Sam that he’d better wake up. He’d better. Because he didn’t know what he’d do if Sam didn’t. Maybe just drive the Impala off the nearest cliff. 

But even in his dream Sam didn’t respond, and even in his dream the only noise to break the silence was the quiet beeping of the machines keeping his little brother alive. 

Dean woke up to someone tapping his shoulder, and he blinked bleary eyes at the person hovering next to him, trying to get the tears that had gathered in his sleep to go away. 

“Are you Dean Winchester?” The man said, speaking in a way that sounded very proper yet robotic, it was almost familiar. 

“Who’s asking?” He replied, hand slithering towards the nearest blade he had on him. 

“I’m an angel of the Lord, I have come to help.” 

And Dean knew he shouldn’t trust any angel but he did because he was desperate so he threw logic out the window. He remembered his dad always told him that desperation made you stupid but in that desperate moment he didn’t really care what his dad had to say. 

The angel placed a hand on his brother’s chest, closing his eyes as he did so, and Dean asked if he was able to heal Sam. 

He opened his eyes and shook his head slowly. Sorrowfully. “It’s his soul. It’s so weak. I sense it was strong, long ago, but it has been weakened for decades, centuries even, long before these recent events, whatever it might have been. It is not a bodily injury, so I can do nothing to help. I cannot heal a tattered soul, no angel can. That is something only God can do. I do not like it any more than you do, but it’s up to your brother whether he wants to hold on to this physical body or let it go. It’s his choice.” 

“There’s nothing you can do? Nothing? ” 

“His injuries are a result of a soul allowing its physical body to crumble in favor of keeping itself alive. A body isn’t important when compared to the core that makes up a persons very being. I’m afraid if I tried anything I’d do more harm than good, that’d I’d end up healing his body and his soul would perish as a result.” 

Dean let out a sound between huff and a cry, falling back onto his chair. 

The angel gave him a nod. “I am truly sorry, Dean Winchester.” He said as he walked away, soundlessly. Dean didn’t even care that he never got the angel's name. 

So then Dean waited some more. He eventually got a call from Cas, and told him to head over when he could. And while he wanted to see Cas he knew that it wouldn't even truly matter because apparently Cas was human now. And even if he wasn’t, apparently no angel was capable of helping. 

He waited for days. Cas called every so often, updating the older Winchester on how far he was. Dean eventually remembered to call Kevin, to tell the kid about the situation and how they wouldn’t be back any time soon, but there were no changes to Sam. He stayed the same. Dean sat there, and Sam lay there, and it was silent. It was always silent. Dean hated it. The only thing that seemed to happen was the fact that the machines surrounding Sam started to grow in number. 

Dean slept beside the bed and in his dreams he was in the hospital room, and in his nightmares he was in the hospital room, and there was always no change. There was always nothing. 

The staff had to kick him out every day, telling him he needed to get something to eat, somewhere to sleep, he needed to go out and do normal things but how could he when Sam was still laying in bed? 

And so he was always back the second he’s able. The only things he ever did when he had to leave were lay down and sleep in the Impala that was parked out front, or went to a gas station to pick up beer and something that should not be considered edible. 

A lot of days it felt like he was floating. People didn’t exist when he was floating, only Sam. Human needs didn’t matter. Nothing did. Just Sam. Dean was above it all, watching. Nothing else. Because there’s nothing he can do but watch.

On those days when he fell asleep he was floating in his dreams too. Floating with no body, aimless and thoughtless. Just there. He existed to be there. To be in that room, to sit by his brother’s side. 

*****

I've woken up, I'm in (my) bed,

But there's no breathing body there beside me.

Someone must have taken you while I was stuck asleep.

But I know better as my eyes adjust,

You've been gone for quite awhile now.

And I don’t (stay) there in the hospital

They had to (make me) go. 

*****

Then Castiel came. He came and he told Dean to get a hold of himself. At first Cas threw him off. Because he’d forgotten that people existed outside of him and Sam. The nurses and doctors had remained nameless- faceless creatures to him. Seeing a familiar person nearly sent him spiraling because it was a reminder that everything was the real world and he wasn’t trapped in some dream. 

Sam was though, Sam was trapped in his own head, dead to the world but not dead to Dean.

And then an idea came to him. 

“Cas, can you do something for me?” He asked. 

“What is it, Dean?” 

“I need you to find me some African Dream Root. There should be some in the Impala somewhere, if not then find some.” 

Finally it felt like that hopeless haze had cleared in his head a little bit. He gripped Sam’s hand tight in his own, whispering reassurances that he’d be there soon, that everything would be okay because his big brother was coming and he’d save Sam somehow. 

It took a while but after half an hour Cas had come back, dream root in hand. It only took a few minutes before Dean had the proper mixture in his hand and he’d downed the entire cup. 

He didn’t even feel it take effect, he just opened his eyes and he was outside in a dark field. The cloudy sky kept the stars and moon from shining any light, but he noticed bright flashes coming from behind him. 

And there, in the field, was a box of fireworks. Two kids running around under the sparks. There was one more figure sitting in the grass not too far away, watching. 

The fireworks. The field. Fourth of July? He remembered this. But… he didn’t remember there being someone in the grass.  

Carefully he crept up to the slouching figure who had their knees tucked to their chest, realizing instantly who it must be. 

“Sam?” 

Sam didn’t look up at him. 

So the older Winchester sat down in the soft grass beside him, looking carefully at his brother’s face. The only movement being Sam’s eyes following the kids in the distance, jumping and hollering with the fireworks. But it was the most life he’d seen from Sam in what felt like a lifetime. 

“Just leave me alone.” Sam whispered, his gaze never leaving the happy memory in front of him. 

“Sam, I’ve come to get you.” Dean said softly. “You’re in your head. This is all in your head. You’re in a coma, man, you’ve gotta wake up.” 

But Sam just rested his chin on his arms where they sat on his knees. Like he was too tired to keep his head up any longer. “I know.” 

“Wait, wha- you know? Then c’mon man, you’ve gotta snap out of it!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he couldn’t help it. 

“Just- just go away.” Sam closed his eyes tightly, trying to block Dean out. 

“No, hey, Sam- I’m real.” Dean doesn’t care if it sounded like he’s begging. “And I’m trying to help you.” 

Suddenly Sam was gone, the patch of grass was empty beside him. Dean looked around frantically for his lost brother. When he turned around he saw that instead of the empty field behind him it was the inside of a motel room. Like a dollhouse, the wall completely gone on the side that faced him. 

There was the mumbling of a tv inside the room, and Dean went towards the noise. He found a younger version of himself and of Sam easily, watching some crappy television on a busted couch. Little Sammy’s head is on young Dean's lap, and Dean was humming a song quietly, playing with Sammy’s hair as his baby brother’s eyes drooped. 

Finally he found Sam, his Sam, sitting in the same position but on the bed furthest away. In the dark corner of the room. 

He didn’t want Sam to run to a different memory again, so he approached carefully and didn’t say anything. The only sign Sam even knew Dean was there was the soft sigh he let out. 

“Sam?” He tried. 

Sam shut his eyes again, shaking his head. “Why won’t you just give it up?” He sounded so drained.

Dean wanted to fire back ‘why won’t you just come with me’ but restrained himself. “You gotta listen to me, Sammy. Please. You can’t give up.” 

Sam shook his head again. “‘M not giving up. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

And Dean frowned, his voice cracking a little as he spoke. “Then why won’t you fight?” 

“Leave me alone. Just- please, leave me alone.” 

Dean stared at Sam, exhaustion written all over his features, the way he held himself, the way he spoke. Red rimmed eyes and a thin shaky frame. 

Cold. It was so cold in Sam’s mind.

Before Dean could say anything else he got the feeling that he was falling and then he was jerking up in his seat in the hospital room. 

Castiel was looking at him with a curious expression. “I’m assuming it worked?” 

“Yeah.” He huffed. 

“Did you talk to him?” 

“I think so.” 

“And?” 

Dean shook his head. “He’s just… it’s like he’s watching old memories, from when we were kids. Just sitting there. He kept telling me to leave him alone, like he thought I was nothing more than another memory talking to him.” 

Castiel’s eyebrows knit together as he looked away, seemingly deep in thought. “It must be some sort of coping mechanism, his brain is showing him good memories to keep him occupied and present. It’s good. Drifting aimlessly in your mind is dangerous, because you can become lost very easily, especially for someone like Sam.” 

“What do you mean ‘especially someone like Sam’? ” 

“You and your brother have experienced a life much longer than your earthly age. You, for example, have lived decades in hell, even though you are only technically only considered 35 human years old. Sam has lived much longer than that, many lifespans in his time in the cage. There’s a lot in his mind to drift through, a lot of torture at that. While a normal person could get lost in their heads, for Sam, if he began to drift, he would most likely never be found.” 

“Okay. Okay, how do we keep that from happening?” 

“We can’t.” Cas shrugged sympathetically. 

“What do you mean we can’t? What if I went back in his head, could I keep him from drifting?” 

“I suppose you could, for a time, but ultimately what you do won’t matter if Sam doesn’t wake up. He’s bound to grow too weary to control where he goes, and he will start to wander eventually.” 

“Cas, I need you to find me more dream root. I don’t care how. Just- get some for me.” Dean orders. He realizes he probably sounds like his father and something inside him twists. 

“There’s more in the Impala. But Dean, you can’t stay in Sam’s head forever. Your mind will need time to rest too.” 

“Sure, I’ll take a nap or something between the times I do it.” 

“Dean, you also need food and water. You cannot reject your needs as a human.” Cas argued. “If you continue as you are now, then your body will start to shut down as well. Then you won’t be able to help Sam at all.” 

Eventually Cas reluctantly went to get the dream root and Dean sat at Sam’s side again, feeling like nothing had changed yet everything had at the same time. 

He brushed his thumb on Sam’s temple, his hand setting on long greasy hair. Sam needed to wake up so he could take a real shower. So that Dean could tease him about how long his hair had gotten. So that Sam could defend himself, telling him to shut up. So that Dean could stop worrying. Sam just needed to wake up. 

*****

In a nightmare

I am falling from the ceiling into bed beside you.

You're asleep.

I'm screaming, shoving you to try to wake you up.

And like before,

You've got no interest in the life you live when you're awake.

Your dreams still follow storylines,

Like fictions you would make.

So I lie down against your back,

Until we're both back in the hospital.

But now it's not (the room we shared)

We're sleeping in the morgue.

Men and women in blue and white,

They are singing all around you.

With heavy shovels holding earth,

You're being buried to your neck.

In that hospital bed,

Being buried quite alive now.

I'm trying to dig you out

But all you want is to be buried there together.

*****

The next second he knew, he lifted his head from where it was tucked in his arms that rested on the side of the bed. There was movement around the bed and his eyes focused to find the nameless, faceless nurses and doctors standing around Sam’s hospital bed. They all had shovels, and dirt was starting to pile up around the bed as they scooped mounds onto the unmoving figure while they sang hymns with mouthless heads.

Suddenly Sam’s bed looked a little less like a bed and more like a casket. Sam was lying there in it, but his eyes were open. His eyes were open and his chest was moving, and he was breathing, but he was just staring up at the ceiling, alive but unmoving. 

As soon as Dean processed what they were doing — that they were burying his little brother — he started screaming at them, shoving them away. He punched one of them, pushed another, but none of them seemed to care what he did, they mindlessly continued their task. Burying Sam alive. 

So Dean jumped onto the bed, he shook Sam, yelled at him, tried to get him to snap out of it. He needed to get Sam to care that these people were going to kill him. 

But Sam didn’t care. 

His eyes didn't even focus, he just stared ahead at nothing, not interested in trying to stay alive. 

Something deep within Dean told him that Sam wanted to be buried. 

Then Dean snapped up again from his arms folded in front of him but this time there were no faceless people trying to bury his brother.  

Just an empty hospital room. 

******

When your helicopter came and tried to lift me out,

I put its rope around my neck.

And after that you didn't bother with the airlift or the rescue.

You knew just what to expect.

*****

Dean went into Sam’s head again the next day, and again Sam’s still sitting watching memories. This time it was a memory where a young Sam is sitting in a library, whispering with a pretty girl- no, it’s Jess. And something sank in his stomach when he realized he had almost completely forgotten what the girl's face had even looked like. He doesn’t think about Jess, but he knows Sam does. He knows Sam still remembers what Jess looked like, and he knows Sam will never forget.

It was weird to think that someone Dean hardly knew could have so much effect on his baby brother. 

His Sam, however— hair longer, eyes darker and more haunted, face older and more hollow than the younger version who’s laughing with the pretty girl — was sitting across the room, watching carefully. Mournfully. 

“So are these like… your safe places?” He asked, and this time Sam actually looked up at him. 

“You can go now, you don’t have to worry about me going with Bobby.” The younger Winchester said, attention drifting back to the library. 

Dean tried to ignore the statement, not completely sure what Sam meant but knowing it could mean nothing good considering Bobby was dead. “I’m just trying to understand here, Sammy. What’s going on?” 

“Aren’t you just me? You should already know what’s going on.” 

“No, Sam, I’m not you. You’re in a coma so I had to take some dream root to be able to talk to you. ”

Sam only scoffed. 

“Tell me, please. What’s going on? Why won’t you fight?” 

“Why should I?” Sam turned his head, searching for Dean's response, seeming genuinely curious as to what the answer might be. 

“For me, man.” He pleaded. “There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.” 

Sam just frowned, looking away like Dean had lost his interest once again. 

“Please, Sam. You gotta trust me with this one.” 

“Why? You can’t actually believe that me waking up will solve anything. In fact, me being out of the picture will probably prevent a lot of problems. For now, me staying here is the best option. What I should have done was just finished what I was supposed to. I should’ve done the trials while I had the chance.”

“You don’t actually think that, do you?” Dean took a shaky breath.

“What else would I think?” Sam’s voice was monotone, almost no emotion given away throughout the entire conversation. “I screwed everything up… again. I can’t face the consequences, I can’t fix another mistake, not again. Not after last time. Not after the cage. I- I can’t do that again. Me staying here is how I help. By staying out of the way and ridding the world of my poison.” 

“Sam, remember what we talked about in the church? You can’t seriously believe-“ 

“What you think of me doesn’t change the fact that I’ve broken the world more than I’ve fixed it. Yeah I’ve saved a few people, but I’ve also started the apocalypse, so it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, now does it?” 

“Listen, I know that you-“ 

“No, Dean, go away. I’m not fighting this.” Sam frowned. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not giving up either, I- I don’t wanna go to hell anymore than you do, I’m just doing what’s best.” 

“Wha- why would you think you’re going to hell?” Dean stuttered. “You of all people, you did the trials-“ 

“Failed to do the trials, you mean? Me of all people, would have a special place down there.” Sam rested his chin in his arms. “The boy with demon blood. The one the angels call an abomination. The one who let Lucifer free. The one who lost his soul. The one who let his brother rot in purgatory.” 

Dean woke up in the hospital room. He and Cas were forced out the door only a few minutes later by hospital staff, apparently it was way past visiting hours. They went and got food, because now Cas was human and now Dean needed to not only take care of his own pitiful self but the man in the trench coat who had very little clue about how the human race actually functioned. 

He went through the Impala, looking for all the dream root they had but there was only a little left. It was enough for one more trip into Sam’s head, maybe two. He knew they definitely had more at the bunker, but Dean didn’t feel like leaving Sam in order to go find it. Eventually he convinced Cas to go for him, giving him plenty of cash for the trip. The ex-angel left the next morning. 

After Cas left, Dean went straight back to the hospital, taking a cup with half of what they had left. 

*****

Please.

Please calm down.

Steady out, I'm terrified.

Sorry, I want us to ally, but you swing on little knives.

They're only sharp on one side.

Let me do my job.

Let me do my job.

*****

When he opened his eyes Sam was lying on a motel bed, watching his younger self jump and shout lyrics to music on the radio with a younger Dean dancing at his side, doing the same. 

“Sam?” 

Sam’s only response was burying his face in the grimy pillow, an attempt to get away. 

“Sam, cmon bud, I’m trying here.” Dean whispered, sitting at the foot of the bed. “I’m here for you, but you gotta let me help you.” 

“You can’t help me.” Sam mumbled. 

“Yes, I can. Sam, if you’d just-“ 

Sam shook his head into the pillow. “It’s better this way.” 

“No, Sammy, I need you out there.” Dean pleaded. I can’t do this without you.

“No you don’t.” Then Sam is looking at him, finally, with a desperate miserable look on his face. Yes you can. 

Well I don’t want to. “Sam, I need you to wake up and face reality. This isn’t real. I know it feels safer in here, but I- I need you to wake up, man.” 

“I don’t want to wake up.” Sam stares at him, and Dean shatters. 

“Why?” 

Sam just averts his eyes, looking at the rough material of the pillow instead. 

“Why, Sam?” Dean wasn’t one to beg, but he didn’t really seem to care about how pathetic things like that might make him look as of late. He hadn’t cared about a lot of things recently. 

“I just wanna be free.” Sam said, so softly that Dean almost missed it. 

“Free of what?” 

“Of the weight on my shoulders.” Sam’s bottom lip quivered, and Dean was reminded of when Sam was twelve years old crying after he scraped his knees. But Sam wasn’t twelve, he was old, so much older than even Dean, and he was tired. “I’m h-haunted by what I’ve done.” Sam choked on his words, tears gathering in the crook of his nose. “I expect Lucifer around every corner, I see Ruby everywhere I go, either Ruby- or worse, Jessica. Everything reminds me of the cage, of what I’ve done, of how I failed you.”

“Sammy, no, you didn’t fail me.” 

“I did.” Sam hiccuped back a sob. “I left you in purgatory. I left you there and I should’ve looked harder. But instead I was just so caught up in the fact that you were gone and I didn’t know what to do and I just- all I could focus on was trying not to give up on everything. I thought you were in heaven Dean, I swear. I thought you were finally okay, finally happy because you were with Cas and you didn’t have to worry about me anymore, and I should’ve known it was wrong. I should’ve checked for sure, I was going to, I swear, but I was too scared I’d go to hell instead.” 

Dean realized that the motel room had gone quiet. The younger version of his brother and of himself were gone. It was just an empty motel room. 

“Dean, it’s safe here. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.” Sam locked eyes with Dean, even if he was a shaking mess of tears. “I stay away from the bad memories, I stick with the good ones, the ones I can still remember at least, and I’m okay here. Out there I have no control over it. Out there I’ll just be a useless burden and I’ll make mistakes and I’ll get people killed and I’ll just let you down. Please, just leave me here.”  

The older Winchester got up from the foot of the bed, and walked over to kneel next to Sam’s head and look at his soaked face. 

“Sam…” Suddenly he was crying too, and he didn’t mean to but he couldn’t help it. He put a hand on Sam’s cheek and brushed the hair from his face. All he’s greeted with are weary hollow eyes, and a wet trembling frown. 

And then he’s falling again, falling, falling, falling, and he jolts back to his chair in the hospital room. 

He can’t do much else but try to keep himself from breaking down any further, wiping his eyes until they’ve been rubbed raw and trying to clear his nose. And then he watches. He watches Sam’s unresponsive peaceful face with Sam’s words floating in the air like a thick poisonous fog. 

*****

Don't be scared to speak.

Don't speak with someone's tooth.

Don't bargain when you're weak.

Don't take that sharp abuse.

Some patients can't be saved, but that burden's not on you.

Don't ever let anyone tell you you deserve that.

Don't ever let anyone tell you you deserve that.

Don't ever let anyone tell you you deserve that.

Don't ever let anyone tell you you deserve that.

*****

A while later a nurse came in to check on Sam. “You’re always here, aren’t you?” She said. Dean didn't look up. He wanted her to remain the faceless silhouette. “Is he family?” 

“Brother.” He mumbled before he could stop himself. He supposed it was okay if she knew that. Because someone needed to know that the man that lay in this hospital room was important. That this man was cared about. And then maybe they’d care too, even just a little bit. They’d care if they only knew what Sam had done for them. What he’d sacrificed. 

If only they knew. 

“It’s a shame, what happened.” She continued, and Dean just wanted her to go away. “Nurses noticed he’s got quite a few scars, he’s been the mystery of the month. Have y’all been through a lot together?” 

And suddenly he’s choking up again. “Yeah. He’s been through a lot. We- we’ve been through a lot.” 

She let out a breath, something like pity seeping through her teeth. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be in a better place.” 

Why did they all act like it was hopeless? Why did they all act like it was a fact that Sam was going to die? He wasn’t. Sam wasn’t going to die. Dean wouldn’t allow it. 

“You know, some years ago my mother-in-law was in the hospital. She was there for months, and after a while she just told them she was ready to go. It hurt, but they knew she’d be okay, because she didn’t have to suffer anymore.” The woman sighed, caught up in her own story. “Sometimes they bounce back and everything goes right back to the way things were, but sometimes they don’t wake up. And sometimes that’s for the best. Some patients can’t be saved, but that burdens not on you.” 

When Dean turned around, horrified, he found himself looking back at an empty room. 

*****

(I) had a new dream, it was more like a nightmare.

You were just a little kid and they cut your hair.

Then they stuck you in machines, you came so close to dying.

They should have listened, they thought that you were lying.

Daddy was an asshole, he fucked you up.

Built the gears in your head, now he greases them up.

And no one paid attention when you just stopped eating.

Eighty-seven pounds and this all bears repeating.

*****

That night Dean dreamed he’s in the morgue. He was kneeling next to his brother’s pale dead body, and his hands shake as he combs Sam’s hair out of his face. 

When he walked back into the hospital room the next day he thought of Sam’s hair. He thought about the time when their dad had shaved Sam’s head so no one could grab it, telling Sam about the practicality of having it short so it wouldn’t get in the way. Sam had locked himself in the bathroom for several hours afterwards, crying. 

Dean thought that was probably why he grew his hair out, even now. To show their dad that he didn’t own him. And then Sam’s hair had only gotten longer and longer as time passed. Dean made fun of him for it but Sam seemed to insist on keeping it that way. Maybe it helped Sam feel in control. And maybe that’s why Sam wanted to stay in his head now. To stay in control. 

When did things become so messed up? 

Before he went into Sam’s room he noticed the date mentioned on one of the TVs out in the waiting room. It’s been weeks. He doesn’t even remember the exact day that they had arrived at the hospital. He feels like that’s a date he should remember, but he doesn’t. 

He waited a few hours before taking the last bit of dream root, hoping that Cas had managed to find more and that he was on his way back. 

*****

Please, curtains in.

Start us off...

You swing first.

Sorry.

I don't know what I said, but you're crying now again, and that only makes it worse.

Let me do my job.

Let me do my job.

(Sam), get your head out of the oven.

Go back to screaming, and cursing, remind me again how everyone betrayed you.

(Sam), get your head out of the covers.

Let me take your temperature, you can throw the thermometer right back at me, if that's what you want to do, okay?

*****

This time he found Sam on an old couch. Not just any old couch though, it’s Bobbys. They were at Bobby's house. Sam’s back was to the world. He lay there with his head tucked between the cushions and Dean was reminded of when Sam was a kid and their dad dropped them off at Bobby’s for a week or so while he was on a complicated hunt. Some days Sam would fall asleep early and Bobby would carry him over to the couch so he didn’t have to break his back getting the kid up the stairs and to the bedroom they often shared. Sam somehow ended up tucked between the cushions every time. 

“Hey.” Dean said to interrupt the silence. 

The house was empty. There was no past memories to be seen, no Bobby working phones, no young Sam reading books, no young Dean chatting about broken old cars. Just Sam. Just Dean. Just the hum of insects and the singing of birds outside. 

He wanted to say something else but he couldn’t think of anything that was worth the effort. So instead he went and sat where Sam’s knees folded into the couch. 

Distantly, he heard past arguments Sam and Dean had been in, floating around the room. Then Bobby’s voice trying to cut in and get them to shut up. Their dad’s voice was in there a few times, shouting with a commanding tone. But none of them were anywhere to be seen. 

“I wish you’d get back to screaming and yelling at me, like back then.” Dean fiddled his thumbs. “I wish you’d get mad like I do. Like dad did. I know how to handle that. I don’t know how to help when you’re stuck in your head like this.” 

There was no response. 

“Sam?” 

Still nothing. 

“I wish I could take it all away. Everything that's hurtin’ you. I wish you didn’t feel like you needed to stay trapped here to feel safe.” 

Finally Sam stirred, muttering into the pillow. “I wouldn’t want you to take the pain away. I deserve it.”

Dean grabbed Sam’s wrist tightly. “Sammy, that’s not true. Don’t ever let anyone tell you you deserved it.” 

Sam remained silent. 

“Sam, why won’t you fight?” Dean thought about when he woke up one morning to find Sam in a locked psychiatric ward, too tired to even care that he was a few days away from dying. He thought that that would be the only time he’d hear Sam talk like everything was pointless. Like the weight of the whole world was crushing the air out of his lungs. “Go back to screaming and cursing! Tell me how unfair it is! Throw something at me, hit me, I don’t care! Just- just do something!”

“I can’t.” Only a whisper. 

And he felt like he should’ve had more to say, but at that point he’d only be repeating himself. At that point he was too scared to speak. Every time he tried, it only made Sam hide within himself more. 

All he wanted was for Sam to listen. He just wanted Sam to hear him somehow. 

But that seemed impossible. 

So Dean just cried. 

*****

(Sam), can't you see what you are doing?

Can't you see I'm scared to speak, and I hate my voice 'cause it only makes you angry.

(Sam), I only talk when you are sleeping.

That's when I tell you everything.

And I imagine that somehow you're going to hear me...

*****

When he woke up to the feeling of falling, he doesn’t really mind. He tried to talk to Sam while he was asleep. Because maybe then Sam would hear him. Maybe then Sam would listen. 

That night he dreamed of the hospital room, he dreamed about the day the monitors beeped the last time. The day when the machines stopped. The day the bed became empty. That would be the day the world stopped, but… at the same time, nothing would stop ‘cause no one cared. No one even cared that his baby brother would be gone, because no one knew. They’d made a dent in history more times than they could count, but no one even knew it was there. That they even existed at all.

For Dean, every hospital bed might as well have been empty when the man in the first room down the hall and to the left stopped breathing. The day the room was truly empty. 

*****

Someone, oh anyone, Tell me how to stop this.

(He’s) screaming, expiring and I'm (his) only witness.

I'm freezing, infected, and rigid in that room inside (him).

No one's gonna come as long as I lay still in bed beside (him).

******

The next two days Dean had spent his time thinking of what to say to Sam. He thought for hours, and couldn’t come up with anything. 

Cas called, saying he found plenty of dream root stuffed inside one of one of the many storage rooms in the bunker and was bringing what he could. He was on his way. 

When Castiel finally arrived Dean was nearly driven up the wall with nervousness, terrified that he’d been gone too long and that maybe Sam had started to drift. That maybe Sam had become lost. 

He thanked the ex-angel quickly, but was back in Sam’s dreams as soon as he was able. 

******

Well, no one's gonna fix it for us, no one can.

You say that no one's gonna listen, no one understands.

And so there's no open doors, there's no way to get through,

There's no other witnesses, just us two.

There's two people living in one small room.

From your two half-families tearing at you.

Two ways to tell the story, no one worries.

(Two half apologies, forced out in a hurry).

Two people talking inside your brain.

Two people believing that (you’re) the one to blame.

Two different voices coming out of your mouth.

While (you’re) too cold to care and too sick to shout.

*****

Dean opened his eyes to find a whole lot of nothing, just a black void as far as he could see, and his heart nearly pounded out of his chest. But as he turned around, he was able to see Sam, and even though nothing was okay, Dean could bear it. 

Sam lay on the ground, eyes staring ahead at nothing, blinking every few seconds, breathing. Little things that he didn’t need to do when he was in his head, but did anyway. And those were the only things that helped Dean to calm down.

“I’m back, Sam.” He said, quietly. Because it was so silent and Dean didn’t want to interrupt it too much. It seemed wrong. “I’m back, it’s okay.” 

Sam’s next breath shook, air rattling in his lungs. 

“Sam?” 

“I can’t- I can’t anymore.”

Dean sat beside him, heart racing. “Can’t what?” 

“I try and lift my arms and they just weigh too much. It hurts, all of it. Everything.”

“What can I do? Sammy, how do I help?” 

“Just… just stay.” A whisper. 

Dean reached out and grabbed Sam’s hand, holding it tightly in his own and it was so cold. It was frozen. 

They stayed there for a while, eventually Dean lied down too. They lay side by side, their knees touching, Sam’s hands tightly in Dean’s, it was the only comfort he could offer. 

They sat in silence, Dean just desperately hoped that his presence was enough. 

When Dean woke up, he held Sam’s hand. When he went back into Sam’s mind the next day, they lay in silence again. The next several days they didn’t speak even once. Dean existed only to hold Sam’s hand, not to talk, but to just be there.

That was all he could offer. He had nothing left to say, nothing left to give.  

But Dean could feel Sam’s soul flickering, it was giving out, it was dying. His memories were tearing his mind apart, every now and then he’d hear a flash of someone screaming in agony, cries and pleas in a language he couldn’t understand, faint arguments echoing, and he knew it had to be Sam’s memories taking over. 

He knew that Sam was getting worse. 

*****

In the middle of the night I was sleeping sitting up,

When a doctor came to tell me, enough is enough.

He brought me out into the hall, I could have sworn it was haunted.

And told me something that I (knew I didn’t want).

To hear that there was nothing that I could do to save you.

The choir's gonna sing and then this thing is gonna kill you.

Something in my throat made my next words shake

And something in the wires made the light bulbs break.

*****

It was confirmed when a doctor brought him out into the hall, and Dean felt like he was walking on glass as he followed. The doctor told him how Sam was getting steadily worse, and how if his condition continued to decline that he wouldn’t make another week. There’d be nothing they could do. 

Dean had hardly made it back to the hospital room before he was on the floor sobbing. 

The next thing he knew Cas was in front of him, trying to get him to break out of his meltdown. Eventually he got Dean up in the chair that sat beside the bed while Dean explained what the doctor had said. 

“Is there no way we could heal him?” He asked Cas, knowing that the ex-angel probably had more knowledge than he did on the matter. 

“I’m so sorry Dean, if I had my grace then maybe I could do something.” Cas sighed sadly. “I feel so useless.” 

“It’s okay Cas, even if you did have your halo I don’t think you could do anything.” He wiped his face with his jacket sleeve, trying hard to stay in control of himself. 

“How could you be sure?” Cas asked, something like grief flashing in his eyes. 

“There was an angel, he came in and said he’d help. Said he couldn’t do anything because the root of the problem wasn’t physical. Said it was about Sam’s soul, that it was so weak that it was causing his body to collapse in on itself or something like that.” 

Cas narrowed his eyes, staring at fidgeting fingers, thinking carefully. 

“What?” 

“I’m just thinking.” 

“Yeah, but about what? Do you have any ideas?”

“You said that the root of the problem was Sam’s soul?” Cas asked. 

“Yeah? At least that’s what he said.” 

“Well, while no angel can heal a soul, I believe there might be a way for two souls to draw strength from each other.” 

“How would that work? A spell? A ritual?”

“A spell, but… I don’t know Dean, it’s a risky idea.” Cas frowned, his usual thinking scowl painted his face. 

“Risky how? To Sam?”

“If Sam’s soul is as weak as you say, the initial process of bonding your soul with his could be a little dangerous if his soul decides to reject yours. It’s possible it could just weaken it more.” 

“Okay, but this would work though? Like… if his soul accepts mine then he’d be able to heal? To wake up?” 

“I think so.” 

Dean sucked in a deep breath. “I…” He knew he should tell Sam about such a crucial decision. He wanted to. Needed to. 

But… 

Sam already didn’t want to wake up. What if he said no? What if Sam refused to be saved? But what if it went wrong? What if this was just another thing Sam’s soul had to suffer through?

“I need to think about this.” 

“Of course.” Castiel nodded. “I’ll get us some food.” 

*****

When I try to move my arms sometimes

They weigh too much to lift.

I think you buried me awake,

My one and only parting gift.

But you return to me at night

Just when I think I may have fallen asleep.

Your face is up against mine

And I'm too terrified to speak.

*****

While Cas was gone Dean took more dream root, going into Sam’s mind once again to hopefully help him decide. 

He finds Sam lying on a cold metal floor, a fence surrounding them but stretching up into the darkness as high as the eye could see. 

Sam covered his ears and eyes, huddling into a ball on the ground trying to get as small as possible. 

“Sammy.” He says, and Sam doesn’t seem to hear him. 

As Dean walked closer he could hear Sam crying. He heard Sam muttering pleas in a tongue he couldn’t understand, he could see his brother trembling. 

His heart ached. Dean wanted to take his brother out of the nightmare Sam dragged himself into. He wanted to save his kid. 

“It’s okay, little brother.” He said. 

Sam didn’t answer. The kid’s pleas only continued. 

“It’s okay. I’ll save you.”

And he just hoped he didn’t regret it. 

*****

Pull me out.

Pull me out.

Can't you stop this all from happening?

Close the doors and keep them out.

Dig me out.

Oh, dig me out.

Couldn't you have kept all this from happening?

Dig me out from under our (cage).

*****

Cas returned not too long after he woke up. The man didn’t seem too pleased when he realized that Dean had used the dream root again, but he seemed to understand why. 

Dean wanted to get on with it, to start the spell as soon as possible, but Castiel insisted that he rest. Cas told him they would do it first thing the next day, and between then he could gather the ingredients while Dean tried his best to sleep. 

The older Winchester had no choice but to agree. 

That night was the first night he didn’t dream of the hospital room. He dreamed of making breakfast for Sam in the bunker. 

The next morning Dean woke up even though he’d hardly slept, got ready early, and got to the room as quickly as possible only to find Cas was already there. 

“So how will this work exactly?” 

“I have found all the ingredients, and wrote down the words to activate it. It’s actually a very simple spell, it was used a lot a thousand years ago as a way to pledge loyalty to loved ones. It’s going to be like a three legged race.” 

Dean stared at Cas. “Be like a what now?” 

“Like a three legged race. Is that not what it’s called?” The ex-angel questioned. “The race where you tie a leg to a partner?” 

“I- I guess?” 

“It will be like that.” Cas nodded, proud of his comparison. “It will be like a temporary string tying your souls together. Like in the race when you tie your leg to the other persons’. That way they can help each other walk, hold one another up, and strengthen one another, but first they must be able to work as one.” 

“Okay. I think I understand. Will it, like, I don’t know- will it hurt?” 

“I’m not certain. Sam’s soul is very damaged and I don’t know how much of a toll it will take on you. It will not kill you though, as far as I know.” 

“Oh.” Dean huffed. “That’s good.” 

They both looked down at the motionless Sam on the bed. Dean bit his lip. It would be worth it. It would. No matter what, as long as Sam made it out awake and alive. 

“Okay Cas, let’s get this over with.” 

The next thing he knew, Cas was getting his ‘ingredients’ out of plastic bags, placing some sort of stone on Sam’s chest, and handing another to Dean, telling him to sit in the chair beside the bed. He sprinkled some sort of dust or leaves on top of Sam, and then said something in a language Dean couldn’t even hope to guess. Sam probably would’ve known. 

“Okay, Dean. I need you to say the words written on the paper now.” 

Dean sounded the words out carefully, as clear and correct as he could. When he got to the last line he looked up immediately to Sam, but there wasn’t a single change. 

Right before he could decide whether to be disappointed or panicked, something deep within him started to stretch and twist. 

He felt like his insides were going to burst through his skin and all of a sudden it became extremely hard to breathe. He was about to put a hand on his chest to try and claw at the unbearable pressure when, through blurry vision, he noticed his arms were glowing. As he looked up he realized that Sam was too. It was very faint compared to Dean, almost nonexistent, but it was there. But it could’ve also been the blinding agony that was making him see things. 

Then something within him exploded. He couldn’t even get the breath to scream. He took in bits of agony he couldn’t possibly hope to describe. Something was charred, something was hurt, something was broken and it was being forced inside him like shoving a firework that was going off down his throat. It was wrong, because it wasn’t him, there was something in him that wasn’t him.  

There was this new presence. It was wounded, it was fearful, it was old and tired. It was smart and moral and loving and kind and loyal and stubborn. 

It was Sam.

It was so clearly Sam.  

But it hurt. 

It hurt to know that it was Sam’s soul that was suffering. Even so, Dean knew that if Sam’s soul was too fragile to survive on its own, then Dean would gladly offer his own to help lightening the load any day.

He remembered how Cas said that Sam’s soul felt like it had been skinned alive. He couldn’t deny it, that was exactly how it felt. And he could feel every piece of the devastated soul. The sensation was scissors, and too much to scream. 

As it faded though, he somehow managed to laugh. 

“Dean?” Cas was swimming into his line of sight and suddenly Dean noticed he was on the floor. 

“‘M good. I think it worked.” He made out around the laughter that had started to bubble up his throat. He knew the reaction wasn’t right, but he didn’t know how else to respond. “Is Sam okay?” 

“Sam is still stable. There doesn’t seem to be any outer changes, as far as I can tell.” Cas sighed as he helped Dean back to his chair. “If I wasn’t human, I would be able to tell if it had worked.” 

“It’s okay. I know I felt it, so I know something happened.” 

“I guess we will just have to wait and see.” Cas nodded, packing up whatever it was he used for the spell. 

Dean hated waiting. 

*****

My hair started growing, my face became yours,

My (soul) was breaking in half.

The sensation was scissors and too much to scream.

So instead, I just started to laugh.

*****

As the day went on Dean started to feel the weight of what they had done. His body felt heavy, and attempting to move at all was exhausting. 

Cas seemed to notice and he left to get a proper breakfast for the two of them. 

Dean forced himself to stand up and walk around the room to keep himself awake. But the fact that there was seemingly no change to Sam’s condition just drained him more. 

Eventually he had his own seat pushed up close to the hospital bed. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, thinking of what else they could try. 

“Sam, I need you to wake up.” He pleaded. “I’m going crazy out here without you.” He didn’t know what to do if that spell failed.  He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost his brother. 

When he opened his eyes all he could focus on was his brother’s pale face. His heart ached — his entire being ached — at the sight. Biting his lip, he reached out to grab his brother’s hand, tears starting to gather. 

He held Sam’s hand tightly, and all he could think of was how cold they always were. How still they always were. 

But then Sam’s hand twitched. 

Dean’s gaze flashed over to the movement, where fingers slowly closed around Dean's hand. 

“Sammy?” 

His heart was in his throat, pounding and pounding so much he could hardly breathe. 

The older Winchester looked over just in time to see Sam’s eyes slowly open. It was like the whole scene was in slow motion but everything in Dean's body wanted him to get up and scream and shout and do something, because Sam had finally opened his eyes. As soon as his brain could catch up with the rest of him he pressed the button beside the bed to call a nurse. 

“Sammy, can you hear me?” Dean tried, squeezing his baby brother’s hand tightly. He didn’t even know why he’d asked because there wasn’t much Sam could do to reply with the thick tubes shoved down his throat. 

It looked like it took so much effort for Sam to even keep his eyes open, but Sam’s hand weakly wrapped around Deans again before a nurse came in. 

After the staff found out that Sam was awake, there was a lot of movement around him as they started to get Sam checked out, and Dean was eventually forced out of the room. At that point he didn’t even care because Sam was awake. He was actually awake and he’d be okay and he couldn’t be happier. 

A doctor pulled Dean aside and Dean listened with hope blooming in his chest. He explained that Sam had miraculously woken from his coma and they couldn’t explain how or why. This on its own was amazing news. On the other hand, because Sam was conscious, he would be in pain. Hopefully not too much thanks to whatever drugs they were giving him, but the doctor warned him to be aware that his brother’s state was very fragile. The doctor also mentioned that eventually Sam would need to start relearning skills because he had been out of it for a while, and his brain and muscles needed to be trained until they could gain the strength they once had and remember how to function normally again. 

Because Sam had been in a coma for two months and three days.  

Dean’s mouth snapped shut at that information, sucking in a harsh breath. He hadn’t realized it had been that long. It had felt like forever but also days ran together and his concept of time had been nothing but mush since they’d arrived. To have an exact number hit him like a truck. 

When he was finally let back into Sam’s room, his brother’s eyes were closed again, looking to be asleep, although not very peacefully. The mask they’d had that covered Sam’s mouth to keep him breathing was gone, now there was only a thin tube under his nose. 

He swallowed hard as he took his seat next to the bed, reaching out for Sam’s hand again. He didn’t want to disturb him but he also selfishly hoped that Sam would wake once more so Dean could prove to himself he hadn’t imagined it all. 

“Sammy?” Dean called carefully. 

Slowly Sam’s eyes cracked open. 

Dean nearly started hysterically crying, or laughing, or both, and maybe he did, he didn’t know. “You’re here now. You’re gonna be okay.” 

Sam’s eyebrows drew together, with an exhausted frown on his face. He closed his eyes once again. 

Something in his heart leaped, he wanted to see movement, he wanted to see any signs to show that Sam was awake again, but at the same time he knew that the process would be slow. He knew he needed to be patient. 

“Dean, is everything okay?” Cas appeared behind him. 

“Geez!” Dean jumped. “I thought you couldn’t teleport anymore.” 

“I can't, you’re just not very observant.” 

He blinked. “Yeah, sorry- yeah.” 

“Something’s different, did Sam’s condition change?” Cas asked curiously. 

“Yeah.” He grinned at the reminder. “Yeah, Cas. Sam woke up. He opened his eyes. He’s awake, man.” 

Relief melted over Castiel’s face. “That’s good news. I was beginning to worry that the spell had failed.” 

“No, it’ll be okay now, he’ll be okay.” 

“I wish I would’ve come sooner then.” Cas smiled, gifting Dean a plastic bag with food inside. 

They spent the next few hours eating and talking for what seemed like the first time since Cas had arrived. They talked about how Cas was human and that the ex-angel could live in the bunker with them, and how he was sure Sam and Kevin wouldn’t mind the extra person because they had plenty of space to share.

Dean couldn’t wait to get back to the bunker. To his own bed. To a kitchen that he could cook in. To his room. It had been so long. He hadn’t even so much as thought about home up until recently. 

He didn’t mean to, but at some point he must’ve fallen asleep. When he woke up, he blinked bleary eyes to find Sam with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. 

“Sam?”

Sam blinked slowly. “De?” 

It was like watching a snail give facial expressions. Sam’s head shifted over, confusion written all over his face, and then recognition hit. Relief, and then sorrow, and then pain. 

“Dean-“ Sam breathed, eyes wide with tears starting to gather in the corners. “What did you do?” 

Dean sat up straighter, not sure what to do, how he could help. “What do you mean? Hey, you’re okay. You’re fine.” 

“You didn’t make a deal?” 

He sucked in a harsh breath. “No, Sammy. I didn’t.” Realizing now would be the time Dean should probably tell Sam about the whole soul bonding spell. He couldn’t bring himself to. Sam still seemed pretty out of it, and Dean did not want to put any more stress on his baby brother than what was absolutely necessary. 

Sam’s eyes were already starting to droop anyways. 

The kid mumbled under his breath. “ You didn’t have to save me. ” 

Dean’s breath hitched, and he went to protest but Sam was already out. 

The rest of the day went on like before Sam had woken up, the only thing that was different was the fact that the hospital staff came in more often to do this or that, things Dean didn’t really understand. They let him stay the night, but Cas was sent away. He told Cas to get a motel room, because they’d been sleeping in the Impala up until then, and had handed the ex-angel his wallet.

The next time Sam woke up, he seemed a little more aware. It was late, Dean was half asleep when he heard slight movements against the sheets. 

He opened his eyes to find Sam looking around the room with a worried expression. 

“Sammy?” Dean whispered to draw Sam’s attention. “How’re you feeling?” 

Sam’s gaze finally flickered over to him, having to blink a few times to be able to focus. “Dean? What happened?” 

Dean let out a huff that could almost pass as a laugh. “After you collapsed in that church and I took you to the hospital. You went into a coma.” 

“The angels…” 

And Dean wished they’d take off the tube running across his face to his nose, so that maybe, just maybe he could pretend they weren’t in some stupid hospital. That everything was fine. “They fell. Metatron tricked Cas, there was no angel trial. It was a spell to kick all the angels out of heaven.” 

Sam leaned his head back, breathing coming out uneven as he shut his eyes tightly as if trying to keep himself calm. 

“You okay? What’s wrong?” He started to panic. 

“Everything hurts.” His little brother's voice was high and pained. 

“Do you want me to get a nurse?” 

“‘M okay.” 

“C'mon man, we’re in a literal hospital with all the possible resources to help you feel better. Don’t turn it down just because you’re stubborn.”

“It’s fine, it’ll pass.” Sam let out another shaky breath. 

Eventually the pained wrinkles on his face evened out, and he seemed to relax a bit more. 

The silence echoed in the small room more than it should’ve. There was so much Dean needed to say, but didn’t know how. He was scared to speak, scared that if he did then it might only make Sam angry with him. 

“Sammy, when you were in the coma…” Dean had began, hoping to get the whole dream root thing and the spell off of his chest. 

“How long?” 

“What?” 

“How long was I out?” Sam repeated. 

“They said two months and three days.” He put the information out softly, carefully, hoping not to cause too much stress. 

“Two months.” Sam’s breath hitched as he shook his head slightly. “What have you done about the angels?” 

Dean swallowed hard, taking a moment to think over his reply. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. “Right now there’s not much we can do. I got Cas, I’m gonna protect him the best I can because he's getting all the heat for what Metatron did.” 

“Is Cas here?” Sam looked around. 

“No. No, he’s at a motel right now. He’s been hanging out here with me since it all happened, uh… Metatron took his grace.” 

“So- wait, what does that mean? He’s what, he’s human?” 

Dean nodded. “Basically.” 

“Dean, if all the angels want him dead and he’s human now, you’ve gotta take him somewhere safe. Take him to the bunker at least, something.”  

The older Winchester scoffed. “I’m not leaving you here.” 

Sam frowned, looking Dean over with a ‘I can’t believe you’ face. 

“I’m not. If any angel or demon finds you here on your own then you’d be as good as dead. Sam, I don’t know what’s going on in your head but you need to stop acting like you’ve got a death wish.” 

“I don’t have a death wish.” Sam argued weakly, his voice hoarse. 

“Then please man, let me help you.” He pleaded. 

Sam bit his lip. “I didn’t fall and scrape my knee. I didn’t get into an accident and break my arm. There’s nothing you can do. You keep acting like this is stuff that can be easily fixed, but it can’t. I’m broken , Dean. You may not want to acknowledge this, but I’m useless right now. You can’t put everything on hold for me.” 

“Says who?” Dean said. “Sam, I’m not gonna go and taunt the angels, daring them to come after me when you’re in a state like this. I’m staying with you and I’m going to make sure you’re safe.” 

“I’m not a priority.” 

“Yes, you are!” Dean didn’t mean to raise his voice. Not only were there people sleeping close by, but he knew Sam hated it when he yelled. He regretted it immediately, when Sam flinched, turning in his bed, away from Dean. The older Winchester got up and followed his gaze to the other side of the bed. “Sorry- sorry. But Sam, you are my top priority. No matter what.” 

Sam tucked in his bottom lip, studying Dean’s face like he was trying to put together a puzzle. Then he shook his head, taking in a deep breath, looking away with a doubtful expression. “Why do you do this to yourself?” He whispered. 

“What?” 

“I’m just- I’m just dragging you down.” And Sam sounded so tired. “I’ve only ever been a liability.”

Suddenly Dean could feel a heaviness in his very core. In his soul. But… it wasn’t his soul. It was Sam’s.

“Don’t say that.” His mouth suddenly felt so dry. “Don’t you ever say that.” Tears started to gather in Sam’s eyes. Dean leaned forward and took Sam’s hand, holding it tightly. “We’re gonna make it through this. It’s all gonna be okay soon.” 

“You don’t know that.” Sam’s lip quivered. 

“I do.” Dean insisted. He could feel Sam’s hand shaking. He could see the weariness in his face, he reached up and brushed a bit of Sam’s hair out of the way. “Go back to sleep, I know you’re tired.” 

Sam didn’t argue. He didn’t even stay awake for another minute. Dean still held Sam’s hand in his own, clutching it like it would make a difference. Like he could keep Sam safe that way. 

He knew he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t take away the pain his little brother was in. 

First he just needed to save Sam from himself. 

*****

Little porcelain figurines, glass bullets you shoot at the wall.

Threats (that are void) for crimes you imagine when I (made the tough call).

With the bite of the (fist, with) that ring on my finger, I'm bound to your bedside, your eulogy singer.

I'd happily take all those bullets inside you and put them inside of my self.

*****

Sam didn’t wake up for the rest of the night from what Dean could tell, he talked with a few of the nurses and doctors when they came in to check on Sam, but eventually the soft beeping of machinery lulled him back to sleep. 

When he woke up he was greeted with Sam’s hand still loosely in his. He smiled, seeing the relaxed look on Sam’s face. It was one that Dean saw and was immediately able to tell that Sam was asleep. Just asleep. It was a look that didn’t cross Sam’s face even once while he was in a coma. There was a difference between what someone looked like when they were asleep and when they were dead. Sam had looked dead. 

He leaned back to pop his back when there was shuffling at the door. 

“I brought breakfast.” Castiel’s voice was heard behind him. “I wasn’t exactly sure what you might want, but I thought pie was a safe bet.” 

“I’d call you an angel, but I guess that’s not true anymore.” Dean grinned, taking the box from Cas and immediately opening it to chow down. 

“Has he woken up again?” Cas asked, sitting down so he could eat some of his own food. 

“Yeah, last night. He seemed a lot more aware then. The doctors said he’s doing really well if he was able to hold a conversation for so long. Apparently some people wake up not even being able to talk for a while.” 

“That’s great news then.” Cas nodded. “I wish I could help speed up the healing process, but…” 

“Cas, we had to heal on our own without any help from angels for years. We’re used to this. Granted, I don’t think we’ve had anything quite this severe happen, but we’re used to it all the same.” 

“Still, I wish I could be more helpful.” 

“You’re helping plenty.” Dean said around a mouthful. “You might feel like you aren’t doing much, but I think the only reason I’m not in a hospital bed right next to Sam is because of you.” 

Cas furrowed his eyebrows. “I just wish you would sleep in a bed.” 

Dean chuckled. “I will. Eventually.” 

Then his attention was brought over to where Sam was taking in a deep breath, starting to stir quietly. 

“Hey bud.” Dean smiled, as he set down his —already empty— plate. Sam blinked a few times, looking over in the older Winchester's direction. “Look, Cas is here.” 

Sam’s lip twitched, not quite a smile but Dean could tell it was supposed to be one. 

“Hello Sam.” Cas leaned forward. “How are you feeling?” 

“Good, I don’t know what they gave me but I can hardly feel a thing.” Sam closed his eyes again, he seemed extra tired. Then again he seemed that way since the moment he woke up. “I guess Dean’s got you doing his errands?” 

“Not at all.” Cas shook his head seriously. “I went and picked up food on my own accord.” 

Sam gave a half chuckle. “Ah, of course.” 

“Are you caught up on the things that have been happening while you were under?” Cas asked. 

“I think so. Dean?”

Dean cringed, the dream root and the spell crossing his mind, but he really didn’t want to address that quite yet. Or ever. “For now. I'll tell you some more details later.” 

Sam’s eyebrows pinched together, looking a little concerned. “Okay…” 

“For now let’s just focus on the present.” He hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he desperately wanted to change the subject. 

Just in time, he was saved by a nurse coming into the room. “Ah, you’re awake.” She smiled. “I’m sorry Mr Doherty, but we’re going to go over a few tests and we’re going to figure out what some of our next steps are going to be in your brother’s recovery.” 

“So… do we need to leave?” He frowned, something in his chest feeling a little tighter. 

“I’m afraid so, but you can be back soon.” The nurse said kindly. “Go out, get some fresh air. Get some rest. Your brother is in good hands.” 

Dean sucked in a deep breath. “Okay.” 

He took Sam’s hand in his own, and squeezed it before heading out the door, Cas following behind him. “We’ll be back soon, Sam.” 

The ride to the motel was almost completely silent. It made Dean's skin crawl, because he knew what questions were coming. 

“What have you not told Sam?” Cas asked curiously as they entered the room that the ex-angel had bought. 

“I’ve caught him up on what’s happening right now, but I haven’t told him about the dream root or the spell yet.” 

“Dean, those are two very important things to mention.” Cas scowled. “When do you plan on telling him?” 

“Just- just whenever I feel like he won’t freak out.” Dean sighed. “It’s not like I want to hide it from him, it’s just… I know he won’t take it well. He doesn’t need that extra baggage.” 

“I suppose you’re right, but I would suggest you tell him sooner rather than later.” 

“Yeah, I know. I mean- I tried to bring it up but then other stuff got in the way and I- I don’t know, I just didn’t manage to get it out.” 

“I understand.” Cas said, sighing as he sat down on the ugly floral chair tucked to the side of the room. “I think you should probably get some sleep, that way you can join Sam later fully rested.” 

Dean threw himself on the bed, feeling the unnatural heaviness in his limbs. “Yeah, I guess so.” He felt like his skin was stretched thin around him, like he was so full, but not of food. Like there was another person living inside his body, because there was. 

He could feel Sam’s presence, even when Sam wasn’t there. It was almost comforting, but also uncomfortable. Claustrophobic, almost. Dean wondered how much of it Sam could feel. And if he could feel the same suffocating weight, he probably didn’t understand why. Suddenly guilt washed over him like a wave and he knew he needed to tell his little brother as soon as possible. 

That gnawing uneasiness stuck with him until he fell asleep. 

~

The forest was cold. Heavy. Dark. 

The stars sparkled in the dew that was sprinkled on the grass. 

The light carried him. He didn’t walk because he had no legs to walk on. There was a thickness to the air. Something dark was polluting the fog.

Existing was tiring. 

He looked up, he saw himself. But… he wasn’t himself. He was looking at himself. He was someone else. He was in the body of someone else. Someone close. Someone he loved. Someone who was hurting. 

The one that wasn’t him —but was, the body was his—screamed at him, told him to fight. 

He was shoved to the ground, fists and shoes raining down on him. 

Existing hurt. 

He couldn’t get up. It was too much. 

“You’ve gotta fight!” He heard his own voice call. But it wasn’t his voice, it was the figure that held his face. And his voice. 

~

Dean woke up with a start, eyes darting around the room. 

The dream he’d had, something was very wrong with it. He sat up, trying to understand it. 

“Something wrong?” Cas sounded from across the room, ruffling wet hair with a towel as he came out of the bathroom. Apparently having just come out of the shower. 

“Just… a really weird dream.” Dean frowned. “I don’t know… it didn’t seem right. Like- like it wasn’t mine .” 

Cas scrunched his eyebrows, thinking very seriously. “Well… was it Sam’s?” 

“What?” 

“Was it Sam’s dream?” Cas repeated, folding the towel neatly on the chair. “Since your souls are bound together, I wouldn’t be surprised if it would affect your dreams in some way or another.” 

“Maybe.” Dean sighed, turning to look at the clock. “How long has it been since we left the hospital?” He asked, not remembering what time it had been when they left. 

“A few hours.” 

“What!” Dean exclaimed, jumping out of the bed and gathering his things. “Cas, I gotta get back.” 

“Dean, you can leave him alone for a few hours. He’s in good hands.” 

The older Winchester just frowned. “I know but- Cas, I don’t want him to be left alone. It’s not good for him with how he is right now.” 

Cas studied him for a few seconds, but shrugged. “Whatever you think is best. Should I come or do you think it would be best for me to stay here?” 

He thought about it for a second. “You can stay here. Maybe you can come over in a few hours. I just don’t want him to get too overwhelmed.” 

“Okay.” Cas nodded. 

Dean got back to the hospital as quickly as he could, entering the building with a swift pace but still trying his best to be polite to the staff. He had never really attempted to do so in the past. The world around him was a pointless blur when Sam was in the coma. 

He opens the door to Sam’s room to find Sam lying down, though his bed was slightly elevated, eyes drooping. Like he was just about to fall asleep. As the door opened there was a faint squeak that caused Sam to look up at him. 

Dean’s heart thudded in his chest when he saw that the tube that ran under his nose was gone. That fact alone made Sam look a little less like he was on Death's doorstep, even if he still looked exhausted. 

“How you feelin’?” He asked nervously, not sure what else to say as he took his seat next to the bed. 

“Tired.” And Sam’s eyes were starting to drift shut. 

Dean huffed. “I’ll bet. What all did they do? Just typical hospital stuff?” He tried to lighten the mood. “Messing with this or that, stuff we’re not smart enough to understand?” 

Sam let out a breath that could almost be considered a laugh, it made Dean’s stomach twist. “Partly. They were tryna figure out where I needed to start to get my strength back up to normal.” 

The older Winchester bit his lip, suddenly realizing how much of Sam’s schedule was soon going to be changing in order to just help him back to functioning normally. 

Dean couldn’t wait for Sam to get back to his old self so they could get back to the bunker. Back home. But he also didn’t want the random nurses and whoever else taking his little brother away from him so soon. “I’m sure that’s gonna be a pain.” 

“Definitely.” Sam nodded against his pillow. 

“If you’re tired, I don’t wanna keep you up. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“No, I’m fine.” Sam tried his best to widen his eyes so they didn’t close, then braced his arms to try and sit himself up. 

“Woah, easy there tiger.” Dean quickly got up to assist Sam sit up in bed. He helped hold the kid up while he got the pillow situated. “You good now?” 

Sam nodded, looking at least a little more awake now. “What was the stuff?” 

“Huh?” 

“The stuff you needed to tell me.” Sam’s eyebrows drew together, looking at Dean very seriously. 

“Oh.” Dean’s eyes widened when he realized what Sam was asking for. “Um… are you sure you’re ready for that?” Because Dean sure wasn’t ready to explain. 

“Yeah, just get it all out there, knowing there’s more is driving me insane.” 

Dean sucked in a deep breath. “Okay then.” He managed, trying to force his nervousness away. “Sammy, when you were in a coma, they said you were going to die.” 

“Yeah, they’ve been telling me how much of a miracle it was that I woke up. Dean, what did you do?” 

“Well, okay, there’s something I have to explain first, but before you freak out, there were no demon deals, nothing- nothing like that.” He assured Sam. “Do you remember what was going on in your head when you were asleep?” 

Sam frowned. “What? Why?” 

Dean’s gaze flickered around the room, trying to find anything to get him out of having to explain. “You weren’t waking up, they were saying you were gonna die, and then I got an idea. That maybe I could wake you up from the coma if I went into your head.” 

“Like… like with the dream root?” 

“Yeah, exactly that. So, I went in your head and tried to wake you up.” 

Sam’s mouth opened as if to say something but then he snapped it shut, eyebrows shooting up. A million expressions crossing his face. “So… that was you? Like- actually you. That… I mean you said, but-“ 

“Yeah, so I went in and I tried to wake you up over and over but it wasn’t working.” The more he explained the faster everything was spilling out. “And we had this angel in here and he told me that it was because your soul was so weak, and when I told Cas this when he showed up he told me there might be a spell that could help.” 

“A spell?” Sam repeated incredulously. 

“Yeah, it was a spell that would basically bond our souls together so that they could draw strength from each other, some crap like that, I don’t know- but Cas said it would probably work and so we tried it and… and Sam it worked.”

“You…” Sam paused, information sinking in, “bound our souls together?” 

Dean bit his lip. “Yeah. But Sam, it was the only idea we had left. They said you probably wouldn’t have made it another week.” 

Sam stared at him, a hand reaching up to grasp at his chest. “I can feel it. I can feel you. That’s what this is?” 

He nodded, watching Sam’s response carefully. But Sam just said nothing. 

“What is it? I thought you’d be mad.” 

Sam looked anywhere but Dean. “I… I am, I guess. But… I don’t know. It’s not your fault. I get why you did it.” 

“Really?” Dean said doubtfully. “What’s wrong then?” 

Sam leaned back into his pillow. “I… I don’t know, I just…. I don’t want to be here anymore.” He shrugged, letting out a deep heavy breath, like saying it out loud was exhausting. “I mean, I don’t wanna be here, but… the only place that’s worse than here is- it’s down there.” A shaky finger points downward. Sam’s eyes are distant. Unfocused. 

And it felt like something in Dean’s chest was squeezing his heart and his lungs. Trying to smother him. He couldn’t tell if it was his own emotions or Sam’s tortured soul. “You don’t mean that.” His voice trembled. 

“I- I only eat so I’m not hungry. I only sleep so I’m not tired. Everyone we know dies, our friends somehow get off even worse.“ Sam continued, looking up at his brother with misty eyes, as he shook his head slowly. “I… I’m not living, De.” 

Tears started to gather in the corners of Dean’s eyes. He took an unsteady breath, trying to figure out how to respond. “Sammy, we’re gonna fix this. It’s gonna get better. Things are gonna get better, you might not see it now but it will, you know that right?” 

“I don’t know.” Sam lays himself back down on the bed. “I feel like we’re trying so hard to do good but we just keep making things worse. We only ever make the messes bigger. Maybe we should just step back and let someone else fix the world before we break it for good.” 

Dean placed his hand on top of Sam’s, and he gave his baby brother a pleading look. “We’re gonna figure it out. I know that right now we’re stuck in the scary part where we don’t know what’s gonna happen next, but we are going to make it through this. We are. And eventually things'll get better.” 

“You say that like you don’t believe it.” Sam said quietly. 

“I do.” Dean tried to reply firmly. ”I do.”  

As he looked over his little brother — his face pale, bags under his eyes, hair a mess, there was a weight on his shoulder, a burden on his very soul — he tried to think of something else to say. Anything. Something that would matter, something that would help in any possible way. But nothing came to mind. Sam could sniff out lies better than even Dean could. 

“Get some rest.” Dean hardly managed to say around the growing lump in his throat. “I know you’re pretty tired.” 

Sam nodded slightly, turning away from Dean. 

Dean sat in the chair beside the bed while Sam slowly drifted off to sleep. His mind was racing but it also seemed like his brain was sinking in deep thick dark waters. Moving aimlessly with the currents, trying to swim to the surface but he could hardly move, and while he tried to use his arms to push himself upwards, he moved so slowly that it didn’t help at all. He was just sinking deeper. 

Sam didn’t mean what he said. He couldn’t have. 

But Dean knew that he did. 

And this hadn’t been just a passing thought, it was a seed that had been planted long ago and had only spread and caused more weeds to grow. Dean couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen those seeds take root. Those thoughts tangling themselves in his brother’s head. 

He prided himself in knowing everything about his baby brother, but he was starting to realize that he didn’t actually know everything. Every new revelation had a terrifying edge to it. Sharp. Horrific. 

Dean didn’t know how to fix it. 

*****

Someone, oh anyone, Tell me how to stop this.

(He’s) screaming, expiring and I'm (his) only witness.

I'm freezing, infected, and rigid in that room inside (him).

No one's gonna come as long as I lay still in bed beside (him).

*****

The next several days went by in a blur. Dean tried his best to show off his optimistic side to give Sam some hope. To prove to him that things would get better, but Sam didn’t seem to notice. 

The doctors were slowly trying to get Sam back on real food, starting with helping him drink what looked like water, but Dean was sure there was a bit more to it than that. Eventually Sam got broth, and most recently was given something jello-like. 

Sam was trying hard to regain the strength he once had, with the help of lots of the staff and a crap ton of pain meds. Sam had told Dean not to come when they worked on stuff like that, and Dean did his best to accept Sam’s wishes. So he used that time to go back to the motel and make up for the sleep he’d been missing out on. 

Ever since they’d done the spell Dean couldn’t manage to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. The weight of it all was draining, and he hoped that Sam wasn’t experiencing as much of the physical toll as he was. He hoped a lot of it to be one sided. 

He was told that Sam had a lot of trouble with even being able to walk at first, his legs having been unused for over two months. Shaky for longer. Even before the coma, the trials had kept Sam off his feet for a while. He was getting better though, getting steadier, and Dean knew that Sam was working his hardest so that they could go back home. 

No matter what though, the older Winchester always visited every day, and stayed the night when he was allowed. The staff seemed to be very understanding with him, and he tried his hardest to be polite back. Especially since the first two months he had hardly even looked their way. 

*****

Walking in that room when you had tubes in your arms.

Those singing morphine alarms, out of tune.

Kept you sleeping and even, and I didn't believe them,

When they called you a hurricane thunderclap.

When I was checking vitals, I suggested a smile.

You didn't talk for a while.

You were freezing.

You said you hated my tone.

It made you feel so alone.

And so you told me I ought to be leaving.

*****

“You should smile, I miss seeing it.” Dean had said offhandedly one day while he messed with the blinds. It was true though. He missed his brother’s dimples. 

Sam was quiet for a while. The silence was cold. 

“Don’t say stuff like that.” Sam had said eventually. “I hate when you say that kind of thing.” 

Dean turned away to see Sam curled up on his side. “What? Why?” 

“Because it makes me feel like you can’t even see what’s going on. Like even though you did that spell to bond our souls or whatever, you’re even more out of the loop than before. Makes me feel so alone.” 

Dean tried to keep it in mind. Not to say stuff like that to Sam, but it felt like every word he said triggered something new. Dean just wished Sam would jump back up and start going right back in his old ways, like when their dad was alive. Starting fights at every turn. Because that Sam? That Sam was somehow easier to deal with. This Sam presented the cold terrifying facts to Dean as a plea to prove him wrong. 

He just wanted Sam to get his head out of the oven. He wanted Sam’s thoughts to clear, his vision to not be constantly haunted by the bad. He wanted Sam to be okay.

He’d give anything for that. 

*****

With the door closed, shades drawn, the world shrinks.

Let's open up those blinds.

But someone has to sweep the floor, pick up (his) dirty clothes.

That job's not mine.

Now that everyone's an enemy, my heart sinks.

Let's put away those claws.

I don't blame them for their curtain-calls 'cause I pulled the rope.

I wanna call them back out for applause.

*****

A few days later Jody called while Dean was asleep at the motel. He woke up thinking it was his alarm at first, but when he realized it was someone calling he grabbed his phone in a hurry, thinking something might be wrong at the hospital, or that Cas needed help. 

When Dean saw the name on the screen his face lit up. “Sheriff Jody?” 

“Yes sir, that’s me.” She joked, but Dean could hear her let out something like a sigh of relief at the sound of his voice. “I hadn’t heard from you boys in a while and I was starting to get worried.” 

“You know us, always keeping busy.” 

“Yeah I’ll bet. I’m assuming you guys were all over whatever that ‘worldwide meteor shower’ thing was.” She chuckled. 

Dean pursed his lips. “Yeah, we actually haven’t even gotten started on that yet. Things have been hectic here with us.” 

“Why? What’s been going on?” She sounded way too worried for her own good. 

“It’s- well, it’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” 

Dean let out a huffy laugh. “Well, Sam’s been in the hospital for a while now.” 

“Is he okay?” She asked nervously. 

“Yeah, he’s getting a lot better. He- he’s going to be fine. Just… a while ago we got wrapped up in these ‘trials’. We hoped that by completing them that we could close the gates of hell, and I was supposed to do it but Sam ended up having to be the one instead. The more trials we did the more it took out of Sam and he was getting really sick. I don’t- It’s all kind of a blur now, but I found out that if Sam finished them that he’d die, and at that time he was over at some old church right smack in the middle of trying to complete the last one. I convinced him not to do it, to let it go, but… I don’t know, he collapsed.” 

Dean took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He tried his best to forget the past few months. None of it matter now, because Sam was awake and alive. 

“I took him to the hospital and he was in a coma for a little over two months. They said his insides were all burned and that he’d probably never wake up.” 

“Oh my god.” He could hear her suck in a shaky breath. 

“He woke up around two weeks ago I think? And he’s been getting better. It’s going better than I could’ve ever hoped, but it’s been hard.” 

“Where are you guys at? What hospital?” 

“Uh, New York. Linwood Memorial Hospital.  Why?” 

“I’m coming over.” She said, like it was obvious. 

“What? Jody, we’re okay here. You don’t need to. We can look after ourselves-“ 

“I know you boys can, but a little support never hurt anyone. Let me come visit. I can finish stuff up here and take a few days off. I needed a break anyway.” 

Suddenly Dean couldn’t help but smile, soaking in whatever it was Jody was offering. Love? Comfort? He didn’t know, but it made him feel covered in warmth and his eyes stung. “That… that’d actually be really great. I’m sure Sam would love to see some new faces.” 

“I’m sure. Well, I’ll be up there in a few days. I’ll call when I’m close. You boys take care of each other, okay?” 

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “Yeah, thanks Jody.” 

“No need to thank me. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Bye Jody.” He grinned as he hung up the phone. 

Dean never could manage to go back to sleep. The more he thought about Jody visiting the more he hoped that this was something that could snap Sam out of it. Someone who they had helped, someone who was still alive and kicking, someone who cared about them. Maybe then Sam could see that they weren’t so alone in the world. That they would be okay. 

So he headed back to the hospital early, feeling a little lighter as he walked through the doors. 

*****

That with the door closed, shades drawn, we're dead enough.

They don't open from outside.

And someone has to speak with their teeth behind their tongue,

To never let that right be denied.

We can't rely on photographs and visitation time.

But I just don't know where to begin.

I wanna bust down the door if you're willing to forgive.

I've got the keys, I'm letting people in.

*****

He went down to the first room down the hall to the left to find a nurse helping Sam back into the bed. He looked tired, yet determined, and Dean's heart swelled at the sight. 

“Hey bud, how’re you feeling?” 

Sam seemed a little startled at the sudden appearance. “Okay.” He shrugged. When the younger Winchester finally gave Dean a closer look, his eyes narrowed, studying his older brother closely. “What’s up with you?” 

“I got a call from Jody.” He grinned, waving at the nurse as she left. “She found out a little bit of what happened and wanted to come visit.” 

“What? Why?” Sam frowned, sounding doubtful. 

“Why?” Dean scoffed. “Because she cares, that’s why.” 

Sam looked down at his hands. “I guess.” 

“What’s up, I thought you’d be happy?” Dean questioned, scooting his chair closer to the bed as he sat down. 

“I am, I just… I don’t know.” Sam bit his lip. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of people seeing me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Here.” Sam motioned around the room. “Struggling to do some of the most basic things. I don’t know, I feel so pathetic right now. I wanna see Jody, I do, but I’m just… I don’t know.” 

“She’s not gonna care about all that. You know that, right? She’ll just be glad to see you.” 

Sam didn’t seem too sure, but he nodded. “Okay.” 

The rest of the day went as smoothly as it could get, Sam stayed pretty quiet, but eventually when Cas showed up Dean was able to liven things up a bit more with easier conversation. 

Sam seemed to want to just blend in with the background. He didn’t talk much, especially when someone other than Dean tried to talk with him, he’d respond with short answers. Even with Cas. 

He seemed tired more often than not. It could’ve been because of whatever drugs they were giving him, or it could’ve been from him working hard to get himself back in shape. 

Dean realized how much Sam must hate being cooped up in the hospital room. His little brother was the kind of person that jogged in the mornings, took afternoon walks, stopped to watch sunsets. Tiring, girly, gross things that Dean hated, but Sam liked them, and he knew Sam must miss them. 

The next day Dean asked one of the nurses if he could take Sam outside. She’d said she thought that it was a wonderful idea, and she was sure it would lift his spirits. 

Of course it was after he’d asked that he realized how unhelpful the journey might be. They were in New York. While at least they weren’t right smack in the middle of the city, there wasn’t much to look at out front. Maybe there was something in the back that’d be more interesting? 

That day on the way out the door he wondered to the backside of the hospital. There was a trail that had a few flowerbeds and a small tree or two that shaded a bench. It eventually led to a parking lot. Not much, but good enough. 

He came back later in hopes that maybe Sam would be in a good mood. 

“Hey Sammy.” He greeted. Sam was reading a book that Cas had gotten him from the little shop next to the motel. “I was thinking we could go for a walk today, or something like that.” 

Sam looked up, a skeptical expression on his face. “Where?” 

“Out in the back of the building. It’s not much, but I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air.” He shrugged, trying not to sound like he was pleading. 

“Dean- I don’t know…” Sam averted his eyes, looking like he was ashamed to admit something. “I don’t know if I can-“ 

“Talked to one of the nurses, she said we could use one of the wheelchairs.” Dean cut Sam off before he could finish, pretending like he didn’t even hear what Sam was trying to say. “Just so we don’t accidentally mess something up. Don’t wanna pull a muscle or anything, am I right?” 

Sam shrugged and put his book away, but his eyebrows still wrinkled across his forehead. 

“Sounds great!” Silently, Dean cheered. “I’ll tell them we’re going out.” He said as he made his way out the door and towards wherever the nearest nurse was, hearing Sam’s shouts of confusion as he went. 

A nurse had brought in a wheelchair and had helped Dean help Sam into it without messing up any of the few machines that were left scattered around the bed. Cas had come in right when they had gotten settled and were about to head out.

The ex-angel agreed to join them outside with a grin on his face. Dean could tell he really liked the idea. He remembered back when Cas was stuck in the state near complete insanity that the angel had taken a lot of comfort in watching the flowers and insects. Bees specifically, he seemed to marvel at. 

Cas requested to push the wheelchair, and Dean didn’t mind. After all, he knew Cas wanted to feel like he was being helpful. 

And so they set out, down the long hallways to the back door. Dean tried to keep Sam from noticing that he was eyeing his younger brother for any hint Sam might give him, whether it be good or bad. He could tell Sam was nervous, and a little embarrassed, but he also knew it would be good for him. 

As soon as they opened the doors Dean took a deep breath of fresh air. He’d been out and in the hospital more regularly for weeks now but even still, he couldn’t help but feel the stark difference of the breeze from outside and the stale chemically clean hospital.

Sam stayed quiet, as they crossed the small road and made their way over to the path with flowerbeds. He looked around with an odd observant glaze to his eyes. 

“We could sit on the bench under the tree.” Cas suggested. “I think it would be a nice place to relax for a while.” 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.” Dean agreed, looking to his little brother to see if he would protest. 

Fortunately, he didn’t. 

They all three sat together in the shade, the sun just bright enough to warm them but the wind blowing just enough to keep them cool. Cas leaned to the side to study the flowers. 

“I very much enjoy sitting out in nature. Even more so now that I’m human. I feel as if I can truly appreciate it that much more.” The ex-angel smiled to himself, leaning back in his seat. “Isn’t God’s creation just wonderful?” 

Dean chuckled. “Sure. I’m more of the wake up at noon with a beer so I can watch some crappy tv kind of person, but I can admit sometimes it’s nice to just sit and enjoy the simple things.” 

Cas nodded. “Yes, and a change of scenery really does help lift the spirits.” 

“Hopefully a new face will help too. I’m sure Jody will show up any day now. She said she’d call me when she was close.” He added, trying to reach for his phone to see if he’d missed a message from Jody, only to find his pocket was empty. “Speaking of which, I left my phone in the room. I’ll be right back.” 

He got up swiftly, making his way back towards the hospital, trying to subtlety quicken his pace. When he got inside found it instantly, sitting right on the chair he usually sat in, abandoned. Luckily he had no missed calls, but instead a text from Jody saying she was on her way, and would probably arrive late tomorrow. 

Dean made his way back outside hastily, but again tried not to make it too obvious. But he stopped short at the glass door, right before he could open it. 

Cas was helping Sam get to unsteady feet, a sturdy hand linked under his arm, as the younger Winchester moved over to the bench. Realistically there was no reason for Sam to move from one chair to another, but he knew that the action probably helped Sam distance himself from the hospital. Discarding the wheelchair probably helped him look past their dreary situation, and be able to pretend that things were better. 

When Sam was sitting down he saw Cas give a warm smile, saying something apparently very amusing because Sam let out a chuckle as he shook his head. 

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. He watched as Castiel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Letting the wind sway him. The ex-angel said something else as he opened his eyes, right before stooping down and picking a small flower and handing it to Sam. A very serious and genuine expression on his face. 

Sam took the tiny gift carefully, with both hands cupped together, looking up at Cas with the eyes of someone who truly understood the meaning of the gesture. Something that even Dean didn’t really understand. 

And then Cas opened his mouth and said something. Something Dean couldn’t make out. Sam’s face crumbled, but then he looked up with a teary smile and a nod. 

Dean opened the door and walked towards the two of them slowly, hoping to catch them off guard so he could hear what the two were talking about. 

“-Cas. Thank you.” Sam replied, something in his brother’s eyes hurt Dean, even from a distance. 

“I know you feel differently, but it’s true, Sam.” Cas looked at Sam with a meaningful expression, before moving on to something else as he took his seat. “You know, now that I am human, I envy the way you looked at the outdoors when you were younger.” Cas smiled as he looked up at the clouds. “I remember hearing a few of your prayers. Thanking God for the little things. The good things.” 

Dean kept his distance, pretending to be responding to a text. 

Sam huffed a laugh. “Dean used to make fun of me when I talked about that sort of stuff. Eventually I stopped talking to him about it, and then I just… stopped thinking about it at all.” 

“I think you should try to talk to Dean about these things sometime. I think he’d appreciate it more now.” Cas nodded to himself. “I don’t think Dean pays attention to stuff like the clouds and the bees. I don’t think he takes in the entirety of the world that he’s protecting.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

Dean finally got close enough that he’d drawn their attention, and therefore the conversation had stopped. 

Cas looked at him with a smug smile, making it very obvious that the man was talking about the older Winchester only seconds before. Dean didn’t comment on it, he pretended not to notice it at all, but he knew he’d have to ask Cas what all they’d talked about later on. 

Because Sam looked a little lighter than before. Like a piece of that heavy weight on his shoulders he tried to carry had been taken away. “You two planning to take over the world?” Dean joked. 

“I’ve already tried, but I didn't end up being very good at it.” Cas said sadly. 

Dean stared at him for a second to process. “Okay… well, in other news, I got a text from Jody saying that she’s officially on her way. Said she’ll probably be here late tomorrow.” He grinned, plopping down on the bench in the middle of the two. “Excited for some company?” 

Sam shrugged. “Having to put up with you every day has definitely helped my opinion of others improve.” 

Dean smirked, only barely remembering he definitely should not elbow Sam in the ribs. 

They spent an hour or two outside, just sitting and talking. Sam did seem to participate a little more, Dean wasn’t sure if it had to do with whatever he’d talked to Cas about or the fresh air. Maybe both. 

Dean had helped Sam back into the wheelchair when they were done, and his chest ached —in a way he wasn’t sure was either good or bad— at the feeling of Sam’s shaky fingers twisting into the back of his shirt to steady himself. 

Cas walked Sam back into the building with a content smile, which was more than a little infectious. 

Dean felt lighter for the rest of the day. 

*****

You've been living a while in the front of my skull, making orders.

You've been writing me rules, shrinking maps, redrawing borders.

I've been repeating your speeches but the audience just doesn't follow.

Because I'm leaving out words, punctuation and it sounds pretty hollow.

I've been living in bed because now you tell me to sleep.

I've been hiding my voice and my face and you decide when I eat.

In your dreams I'm a criminal, horrible, sleeping around.

While you're awake, I'm impossible, constantly letting you down.

*****

The next day went by in a blur of boring uneventful conversation, and Dean couldn’t wait for Jody to show up and throw some change into the mix. He’d gotten a call a little while before from her, saying that she was about an hour away, and she’d be there soon. Dean said he’d meet her at the motel. He assumed she’d be staying the night considering it was pretty late in the day. 

He’d relayed the information back to Sam, and his younger brother seemed strangely nervous at the thought. He’d tried to figure out why, but eventually had run out of time before he had to make his way to the motel to meet her.

He didn’t even need to wait ten minutes before Jody’s truck pulled into the parking lot beside the Impala. Dean was grinning before she even got out of the vehicle. 

“Good to see you, Dean!” And she was beaming too as she climbed out of the driver's seat. “It’s been too long!”

“That it has.” He chuckled, going in for a hug. “We need to swing ‘round more often.” 

She grabbed a bag and Dean offered to take it from her but she refused, so instead he showed her to the room he’d gotten for her. It was right beside his and Castiel’s. “Wasn’t sure if you planned on staying longer but I at least got ya one night.” He explained as she dropped the duffel on the floor and plopped down on the bed. 

“Yeah, I’m not sure how long, but I’m gonna stretch it as much as I can.” She nodded. “I helped another hunter out with a bunch of disappearances a while ago, it was crazy stuff, and I definitely needed a few days off afterwards.” 

Dean winced. “Was that what you originally called me about?” 

“Yeah, but I’ve got other people I was able to call. Bobby gave me a good list of hunters, so it’s not like I had to do it by myself.” She shrugged. “I just called you boys first because I know you’re some of the best.” 

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, when we want to be. But I guess we’ll be out of the job for a while.” 

“If anyone deserves a break, it’s you boys.” Jody smiled softly, something sad and knowing in her eyes. Something that made Dean wonder if she was more in the loop that he’d originally thought. “I’m sure this whole experience has been scary, but I think there’s a way for you both to grow from this. Some good can come from this bad, I’m sure of it.” 

Dean’s eyes drifted to the floor. “Maybe. Sam’s just been… I don’t know, different? After this whole thing. More distant. If that makes any sense.” And the more he thought about that the more he wondered if there had really been a change in Sam’s mindset or behaviors, or if maybe Sam was just too tired to hide it. Now everything that Dean tried his best to pretend wasn’t there, all those monsters Sam hid in the closet were starting to creep out one at a time and it was terrifying. 

“He’ll heal.” Jody said, and it wasn’t an empty comment, she sounded like she believed it. That made all the difference to Dean. “He might have some demons up in that head of his, but you boys can handle it. You two protect each other. That’s what you do.” 

Dean gave her a weak smile. “Thanks Jody.” 

“Now, are we headed to the hospital or what?”  She slapped her legs and got to her feet. 

“I’m ready any time. You sure you don’t wanna take a nap or something before we go? I’m sure you’ve been driving a while.” 

“Nah, thats exactly why I need to get going. Need to stretch my legs.” 

“Okay, whatever you say.” 

Dean took Jody up to the hospital in the Impala. He thought that the short ride would be a good time to catch her up on what they’d been up to, or a more in depth version at least. 

Instead, he figured out pretty early on in the conversation that after Bobby died, Sam called Jody often. Not super regularly, just enough to keep her caught up, at least until the more recent events had happened. If Dean had his dates right, she’d heard from him right before the trials started, and then Sam had gone silent for a while until he’d called again not long after he’d started them, not giving out information, instead just wanting to talk. 

Dean wondered if even way back then, Sam knew that if he finished the trials, he’d die. If he called Jody just to talk to her one last time.

The closest thing to a mother that he’d ever known. 

His heart seemed to sink into his stomach at the thought, but he tried not to let his own emotions get in the way. If Sam really had kept in touch with Jody, then he knew that it had been a good decision. Bringing Jody. It would help, he just knew it. 

The older Winchester showed the sheriff through the hallways of the hospital, nodding at the staff as he passed by them. At this point he knew a lot of them by name. That was something he never would’ve thought he’d put effort into, even just a few weeks previously.

Jody stood with her chin up, but a sad expression on her face. She knew what it meant when the staff recognized him personally. 

Before they could enter Sam’s room he looked to Jody with a nervous breath, hand on the doorknob for a second or two. She put a hand on his arm, giving him a nod, something fiery in her eyes. 

So he opened it. 

And they were met with Sam sitting quietly on his bed with Castiel in the chair beside him, where Dean normally sat. Sam had a small smile on his face, and Cas was grinning as he explained the punchline to some old joke he’d found that either didn’t make any sense or Cas had said the line wrong. 

As soon as they opened the door both the boys attention was drawn towards them. “Look who’s here!” Dean gave some exciting jazz hands towards Jody. 

“Hey Sam.” Jody was up to the kids bed in no time, leaning over to give him a tight hug. “It’s great to see you.” 

Sam returned her hug gratefully, looking happy but nervous. “Hey Sheriff Mills.” 

Jody leaned back, rolling her eyes. “Oh, don’t start with that again.” 

“Okay, okay-“ Sam chuckled quietly. “Jody.” 

“That’s more like it.” Jody nodded with a grin, backing up a little to get a look at Cas. “Sorry, and you are? I don’t think we’ve met.” 

“I am Castiel.” The ex-angel stated. 

“Oh.” Her eyes went wide. “The- wait, the angel?” 

“Well, not anymore. Another angel took my grace. I’m human now.” He sighed sadly. 

Jody looked to Dean for help, not exactly sure how to respond. Dean cut in. “Yeah, Cas has been staying with us recently. He’s got a lot to learn.” 

“I thought I knew pretty much everything I needed to know about the human race.” Cas shrugged. “Apparently I was wrong.” 

“You’re doing good so far.” Sam finally pitched in. Cas seemed to take the compliment to heart, looking very touched. 

It took a few minutes of awkward conversation before Cas finally decided he’d go back to the motel. Dean thought it was for the best.

Eventually Dean was able melt into the background and let Sam and Jody talk. It took a bit to get Sam to start, but it worked in the end. Dean felt like Jody understood how Sam worked. She knew exactly what to do to get him talking, and how to keep it that way. Dean thought he was the only one capable of understanding how Sam functioned. But maybe that was only because the only parent they grew up with didn’t really seem to understand his sons, especially Sam. And he didn’t care to put in the effort to try. 

When Dean felt like Sam looked comfortable enough, he decided to leave the room too. Not leave completely. He told Jody he was going to grab a coffee —for both himself and for her— and that he’d be back. He stood out in the hallway instead, letting them have some space, but not being able to help but be a little nosy. 

“So, Sam.” Jody said softly, and he knew by her tone of voice that the light conversation they were having before was going to shift now that he was gone. “How have you been? Really.” 

Dean could picture her staring him down, using her inner Sheriff glare to her advantage. He heard Sam take a deep breath. “I’m- well, I mean, I’m here.”

“You been doing okay? I know these past few weeks must have been tough. I know Dean’s worried.” 

“Dean’s always worried. There’s nothing new there.” Sam huffed out a laugh. Tight. Forced. 

“Yeah, well… he cares about you. A lot of people do.” There was a pause. “What?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“No, tell me.” Jody’s voice was thick and sweet like honey. 

Another bit of silence. “I just… I don’t know, I feel like Dean- I feel like he cares about this idea of this  younger brother who he swears to protect, because it makes him feel good, like he’s got a purpose. But- I don’t know, sometimes I feel like he just loves that idea, not- not me.”

Dean leaned closer, ears straining to hear every word, every sound to clue him in on what Sam was trying to express. 

“Dean loves you.” Jody replied firmly. “He might love that too, but don’t think for one second that that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you too. He only loves that idea of a little brother for him to protect because you are that little brother.” 

When Sam didn’t respond, Jody continued. “Family is hard. You feel like the other person only loves you because they’re forced to, but that’s not true. They’re the people you live with. Truly live with. Through everything, the good, the bad, the ugly. Family knows your best and worst qualities, and they stick with you anyways. And if they don’t… Well, then they aren’t really family. They’re just some strangers who share the same blood.” 

“Thanks Jody.” There was a little hitch in Sam’s breath and Dean knew he was close to tears. “It’s been hard. These past few weeks.” 

“I know they have.” 

“To- to be honest I didn’t really know if I want to come out of this. To pull through.” The emotion in Sam’s voice was like a knife to the chest. “I thought it’d be for the best. That the world would be better- I just… I mean, I’m tired, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if things ever can get better with me here. I just keep messing things up, and-“ 

“They can.” Jody cut him off. “They can, you just have to stick around long enough to see it. Sam, the world we live in is a wonderful place. I’m glad I get to live in it side by side with you.” 

There was a breathy laugh from Sam. “You sound like Cas.” 

“Well, Cas isn’t wrong-“ 

Dean swung around when he felt a hand on his shoulder, reflexively going for his knife, but thankfully not having time to grab it. 

“Mr Doherty?” The doctor looked a little startled at his reaction. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“No, sorry- yeah. Just wasn’t paying attention.” Dean waved it off, trying to ignore how jumpy he’d been. “You need something?”

“I just wanted to talk for a minute, if that’s okay with you.” The man smiled halfheartedly. Eyes masked, but in a professional sort of way. 

“Yeah, sure, what is it?” 

“I just wanted you give you a quick update.” The Doctor explained as he lead Dean down the hall. “Your brother’s condition is improving a lot, and I wanted to let you know that he could be released in as soon so two weeks. Maybe sooner. I know that it still seems like a lot of time, but I assure you that it’ll go by quickly.” 

Dean felt like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Two weeks? Two weeks and they could be home? Leave the hospital behind, be long gone, never return. Maybe sooner? “No, yeah, that sounds great!” He finally made out, after probably a full minute of his mouth propped open like a fish out of water. 

“We’re slowly taking him off the pain medication, his body is still healing, but we’ve been keeping a close eye on him and so far there haven’t been any complications. Your brother may seem like he’s mostly physically recovered, but even the slightest wrong turn could be for the worst, so that’s why we want to keep him here for a little while longer.” 

“Yeah, that’s fine. I want whatever’s best for him.” 

“He’s still recovering from the coma, but he’ll back to normal before you know it. He’s been making huge improvements.” 

“Yeah, he sure does work hard doesn’t he.” Dean couldn’t help but smile to himself. 

“I want you to know, when the time comes for you both to leave I would suggest he stays home and rests for a while longer. He shouldn’t overwork himself. Just make sure he stays back and lets himself heal for a little while longer. You’ll need to have someone stay and watch over him just in case. And if there’s any slight issues, then go to your closest hospital. Don’t wait to see what’ll happen.” 

“Yes sir.” Dean nodded, hanging on every word. Feeling all too much like he was seventeen years old taking orders from his dad with how intensely he was listening. 

As soon as the Doctor let him go, Dean was racing off to tell Sam the news. It was only after he got to the door that he realized he didn’t have any of the coffee like he’d said he was going to get. At that point he didn’t even care. 

“Sam, guess what.” He exclaimed as he entered the room. 

Sam and Jody broke off from whatever conversation they were in the middle of. The younger Winchester blinking in surprise. “What?” 

“Was talking to the Doctor outside. He said you could be out of here in two weeks, maybe sooner.” 

Sam’s mouth opened to say something but it snapped shut a moment later. “Really? That sounds great.” His lips twitched upwards to the beginnings of a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’ll say, I bet you boys are dying to get back to your own beds.” Jody laughed. 

“Memory foam, Sam.” Dean grinned. “It’s so close I can taste it.” 

“So close you forgot your coffee.” Sam chuckled. 

“Oh… yeah, I did forget about that.” Dean looked down at empty hands. “Well… yeah, I guess I should go do that now.” 

He rushed out of the room a minute later, quickly coming back with two cups of pure caffeine to keep them awake for the rest of the day. It faded into an endless stream of chatter, making Deans entire being feel warm and fuzzy. 

Jody’s presence alone meant so much. 

But eventually the staff told them that it was time, and they needed to leave. At that point, Dean was completely exhausted. It looked like all three of them were. Both Dean and Jody made their way out of the room, telling Sam goodnight while they went. 

When they got to the Impala, however, Dean couldn’t help but ask. “So, what did you and Sam talk about?” 

Jody gave him a side eye, and a small smirk. “Why do you ask?” 

“I just- I wanna know what I need to do to help him.” Dean shrugged, trying to keep from yawning. “I mean he talks to me sometimes, but I feel like he’s holding stuff back. We don’t hold stuff back from each other, usually.” 

Jody frowned, raising an eyebrow. “Really? You two?”

“What?” 

“I don’t mean to be harsh. I really don’t. But I think you’re assuming you know the entire story, that you’re seeing the big picture, but I don’t think you are. Not fully, at least.” Jody’s voice was soft and understanding. Everything that his dads wasn’t. 

“Okay, so what am I missing?” Dean asked, more than a little puzzled. 

“I don’t think that’s for me to say.” Jody gave him a sad knowing smile. “Sam’s tired… mentally, physically, emotionally. But he’s gonna get better. Because you’re gonna help him. You boys have a better friendship than most people will ever get to have. You’ll get through this, I know you will.” 

Dean sighed as they arrived back at the motel, pulling into his parking spot. “I know we will. I just don’t know how yet.” 

They parted ways for the night, she headed back to her room and he headed back to his. He found Cas sitting on his bed reading a book. 

“Hey Cas.” He practically leaped onto his own mattress, letting out a deep breath as he felt his eyes start to droop closed. 

“Did everything go okay with the Sheriff?” Cas asked, sounding more like he was just trying to be polite more than anything else. 

“Yeah, it was good. Doctor said that Sam might be able to go home soon. Hopefully two weeks or less.”

“That’s excellent news.”

“Yeah, it is.” He agreed. “Hey, Cas, what did you and Sam talk about? Back when we went outside.” 

Cas frowned, looking deep in thought. “We talked about lots of things. Clouds, bees, flowers, you.”

“But, something was off after that. Something seemed- I don’t know, lighter after you talked.” 

And even now Dean could feel it. The weight on his chest almost seemed even lighter that day than even the day before. The pressure was slowly being lifted, little bits at a time, from Sam’s soul, and so also Deans. 

“Dean, sometimes it doesn’t take much to comfort souls.” Cas shrugged. “Sometimes things like fresh air and clouds, sunlight and insects, can lift the spirits and help a soul grow just a little stronger. Sometimes it’s the simple things that work best.” 

“But what did you say to him?” Dean was now too curious to back down. 

Cas stared at Dean for a second or two, looking at the older Winchester carefully. “I just told him that he did not deserve to die.” Deans breath hitched. “And that his life didn’t mean any less than yours.” 

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but found that he couldn’t get anything out. 

The ex-angel seemed to move on quickly. “If Sam really is getting out soon, then we’ll need to inform Kevin that we might be heading back in a week or two.” 

“No, but- hey, Cas.” Dean shook his head, sitting up on the bed. “Rewind here- Sam, he- that’s it? That’s all you said?” 

“Yes.” Cas seemed confused. “Sometimes people just need to hear things put simply.” 

“But… Sam doesn’t really think…” Dean trailed off, trying to process. 

“Think what?” 

“That he deserves to die? He doesn’t- he doesn’t really think that, right?” 

Cas gave Dean a sorrowful expression, and Dean couldn’t say anything more. Sam really thought… 

“Sam’s soul, there’s just something… something about it.” Cas looked down at the bag of clothes Dean had given him. Mixes of both Sam and Deans clothing, and a few he got to pick out for himself at the store nearby after Dean gave him a few dollars. “It’s just tragic. How Azazel could corrupt something so pure and innocent. Leaving a stain behind, causing all of the angels to look down on him. Those same angels that he begged for, that he prayed to. Most of them hated him, not for what he did but for what he was. Even when he did nothing wrong.” 

Dean swallowed hard, taking in all this information. He remembered when Sam had first told him that he prayed. Every day. 

He could imagine little Sammy crouching by his bed, hiding behind the mattress when their dad came home stupid drunk, with little hands woven together and just praying. He could imagine Sam lying in bed, alone in a motel, with Dean and their dad gone on a hunt, praying. He could imagine Sam waiting with a loaded gun in his hands outside the door to backup their father, praying. He could imagine Sam running towards the nearest bus, having just been in the biggest fight with their dad yet, and then just sitting there. Praying. 

No one ever answered those prayers.  

The boy who had more faith than anyone else, was the one the angels turned their backs to. 

It was so unfair. 

“He still carries that burden with him.” Cas explained. “He still thinks that he’s been destined for evil. But he’s not. He’s one of the few pure goods that are left.” 

Dean felt his eyes sting. Something inside him aching, but there was also this wash of pride. That his kid grew up to be so good. 

“You need to make sure he knows that, Dean.” 

“Me?” 

“Some things mean more when spoken by the person they love most. Dean, he looks up to you. You’re his family. His best friend. His world. We all know you love him too, more than anything. Sometimes…” Cas sighed, “people need to hear that.” 

Dean couldn’t turn his thoughts off almost all night. The extra strain on him — that he knew was Sam’s soul — made him all the more exhausted, but it still took him forever to fall asleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Cas had said. 

~

Cleaning chemicals. White walls. Shades drawn.

The monitor beside him beeped slowly, and he took a shaky breath. As he did so he realized the pain behind his ribs. Like a cheese grater raking itself over the organs under the layer of skin. 

The lights buzzed overhead. Too bright. 

He tried to close his eyes. Shield them. 

The bed was too tall. But he fit perfectly. Not him, but the body he was in. 

“Do you regret your decision?” 

He swung his head to the door, where a pale thin man in a black suit stood. 

“What?” 

Death’s dark eyes only stared. His thin lips pressed into a constant frown. Not speaking. Not repeating.

The room was silent. The monitors weren’t beeping anymore. 

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t his voice that came out of his mouth. Someone else’s. Someone close. Someone too close. He knew them better than anyone else. “Try not to think about it.” 

The hollow man finally turned his head to look around the room, studying the medical equipment. 

“Well, how does it feel to be linked to another soul?” Death’s eyes narrowed. 

“Heavy.” He said. Without hesitation. There was a pause before the next question though. “Are you here to take me?” 

Death took a breath. “No.” The man shook his head. “Sam Winchester, this is just another one of your delusions.” 

~

Dean’s eyes flew open, but he had to try to push the fog of sleep away before he could remember what had happened. 

It was another dream. One of Sam’s dreams. The first time he wasn’t sure, but this time he knew. It had to have been Sam’s dream. 

He looked over to the clock beside the bed, it was early, but just close enough that the hospital should let him in. Hopefully. 

He quickly got his things together, not even thinking about waking Cas or Jody. He switched his shirt so he didn’t seem quite so trashy, but he hadn’t worn anything comfortable to sleep in since Sam was put in the hospital. He was always ready to go. Didn’t matter where, or why. He didn’t want to let his guard down. Because if Sam needed him, he needed to be ready to be there in an instant. 

So he got in the Impala and went straight to the hospital. 

*****

Suddenly every machine stopped at once

And the monitors beeped the last time

Hundreds of thousands of hospital beds

And all of them empty but (yours) 

Well, I was lying down with my feet in the air

Completely unable to move

The bed was misshaped, and awkward and tall

And clearly intended for you

******

Dean arrived in record time, and was greeted by the staff who thankfully didn’t seem to mind him barging in. They all gave him the same sympathetic looks, same ones he’d seen since he’d started paying attention to their existence. Since they became more than faceless nobodies. 

He got to Sam’s room to find his baby brother still asleep on the bed. On his side —he knew that he had been sleeping on his back previously because it had hurt less— that was a sign that he was healing. Dean quietly crept up to the fake leather chair that was planted by the head. The one he always sat in. 

As he studied Sam’s face, he took his seat. The room was quiet. No more machines hooked to him. Apparently they weren’t needed anymore. He could hear the quiet breathing from Sam’s nose whistling against the pillow. His eyes moved beneath eyelids. Brows just slightly creased. 

He looked so much better than he had while in a coma. Dean nearly cried at even the thought of Sam lying so still with no signs of life besides the heart monitor beeping slowly. It had become more of constant background noise to him over the first two months. 

It was weird sitting there without that constant. 

Dean sat and he thought of the past few months, years even. This. The trials. The cage. The apocalypse. They’d been through so much. Sam had gone through so much.

But all Dean could picture was this tiny kid with bandaids littering the surface of his knees and hands, the kid who read too much, the kid with huge curious eyes, the kid with a big heart and a soft soul. The kid who he raised. The kid who he loved.

The kid who thought he didn’t deserve to be there. 

Dean’s whole existence felt like it was being crushed. Like the weight of a million planets was wrapped around him and pulling him down to the center of the universe. And the more he acknowledged it, the greater it became.

This was the weight of a soul. 

Sam’s soul.

He sucked in a harsh breath, trying to stop his eyes from stinging. 

It didn’t help, and he pursed his lips, trying to keep a sob from erupting. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hands that wove together, almost as if he was praying. But he wasn’t. He swore he wasn’t.

“Dean?” 

The older Winchester’s head jerked up at the sound of his brothers voice. Quiet and gentle. Steady but Tired.

“Hey bud, how’re you feelin?” He took a big gulp of air and quickly wiped his eyes, hoping that Sam hadn’t noticed. 

“Wha’ happened? You okay?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed with a frown as he sat up a little. His eyes still foggy with sleep, and his voice groggy. 

Dean could only let out something that sounded like half a laugh and half a cry while he shook his head. 

“Dean?” 

Finally he was able to find a way around the lump in his throat. “Sam… I’d do anything for you, you know that?” 

“What?” Sam seemed even more confused, but more awake. “What are you talking about?” 

“I need you to know.” Dean’s voice shook, trying to blink back tears. “I need you to know, th-that I would do anything for you. No matter what. And- and not because you’re my little brother. Because, Sam, you’re my best friend, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He said honestly. 

“Why are you saying this?” Sam was sitting up fully now, his hair sticking up in all different directions. Eyes narrowed in a desperate concentration. He looked concerned. 

“Because I need you to know.” Was the only answer he could think of. 

Sam just stared at him. 

Dean knew all the touchy feely crap went against every rule and line he’d made for himself ever since forever ago, but he didn’t even care. Because Sam needed to know. Sam deserved to know. 

Sam deserved to know that he mattered. 

“Sam, you scared me.” His lip trembled. “You’re scaring me.” 

“What?” And now Sam looked scared too.

“When I went in your head, I would just- I was so terrified that you’d fade away from me. But then you woke up, and even though you were awake nothing seemed to change, you know? I felt like it was still the same. I’m still just sitting beside you, watching you fade and I can’t stand it, Sammy.”  

Sam’s eyes were wide, and he swallowed hard, looking at Dean like he’d grown another head. 

“Sam. You didn’t deserve to go to the pit. You didn’t deserve the cage. You didn’t deserve to have your soul separated from your body. You didn’t deserve the wall in your head being torn to shreds. You didn’t deserve to suffer through the trials. I treat you like crap sometimes. I know I do. But I can’t do this without you. I won’t. I need you.” 

“Dean…” 

“I need you, man. I’m not talking about this imaginary picture perfect idea of a little brother, I’m talking about you, Sam.” 

But Sam shook his head. “No, you don’t mean that. You think you do, but…” 

“Sammy, hey-“ 

“It’s all my fault, Dean. Don’t you see that?” Sam said desperately. “My entire life, your entire life- none of it would’ve happened. If I would've just never been born, then this- mom would still be alive. You would be safe and happy.”

“Sammy, you can’t mean that.” 

“The least I could do, after our whole family was torn to shreds by the demons that were after me, was die for the cause too. Like all of you had. But Ruby saved me, and even that was just another trick. Another reason I should be dead. I’ve raised Lucifer. The least I could do was put him back. Even then, he’d already caused so much destruction. And then- and then Purgatory? Dean, if you say you don’t blame me for leaving you, you’re lying.” 

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sam. It doesn’t.” 

“The trials were my way of repenting. My way of dying for my sins. Taking my own cross. I didn’t want that weight to land on you, Dean. I never wanted that.” 

“You knew it would kill you?” Dean asked, sucking in a breath of disbelief. “You knew, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah, and it was okay.” 

“But Sam, you went with me. You let it go. That had to mean something, right?” 

“I don’t want to die, Dean.” Sam shrugged. “I know I should. I know I deserve it. But some selfish part deep in me-“ He let out a deep shaky breath. “I don’t want to.” 

“Sam. You don’t deserve to die.”

And now Sam looked up at him with something pleading in his eyes. “Have you not seen me? What I’ve done?” 

“I know better than anyone.” Dean said, this suffocating feeling started to overwhelm him. “I know you better than anyone, Sam. I know you and I know who you are.” He put a hand on his chest, gripping his shirt, he could feel Sam’s soul, tied side by side with his, and it hurt. “And you didn’t deserve any of it.” 

Sam bit his lip, staring back at him incredulously. “How could you think that?” 

“Because, Sammy-“ 

“No. Dean, no.” Sam cut him off. A deep rooted terror in his eyes. “Dean, you said it yourself, even- even a vampire was a better brother to you. You said I was a monster. You said you would kill me. And I know that- that things changed and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it because we’re family, but if you weren’t so scared to be alone, if you weren’t forced to share the same blood as me… you’d have put me down like a dog long ago.”

“No, Sam, I’m proud to be your brother. I am.  But that's not just simply because ‘we’re family.’ It’s because I know you. Because we’re family, I got the opportunity to know you better than anyone else in this world. I got to share my life with you, trade my life for yours, look after you, and take care of you. That’s something that I took advantage of sometimes. I used that position to hurt you, and I’m so sorry. I can’t say it enough. You are not a monster Sammy. You never have been.” 

“But you don’t really believe that.” Sam shook his head, wiping away a tear as quickly as it had fallen. 

“I do.” Dean leaned forward, his whole attention on Sam and nothing else. Because nothing else in the whole world mattered. “I mean it Sam. I’m so happy that you’re apart of my life. Even if we fight. Even if I say some terrible stuff, stuff I don’t mean. Even if I get mad at you. Even if you make me sad. Sammy, you’re my brother. The best brother I could ever ask for, and I’d never want it any other way. I wouldn’t trade this for the world. I wish I could take away that creeping doubt in your head, but I can’t. So instead I’ll fight for you to the end. Even if it’s against yourself.” 

And Dean didn’t know when things seemed to switch from arguing to not, but suddenly he was sitting next to Sam with his arms wrapped around his little brother as he clutched the back of Dean’s shirt tightly. Silent sobs shaking his form. 

“Dean, I don’t know what to do.” Sam cried. 

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything. Just stay. Things’ll get better. You’ll see.” Dean hugged Sam tighter. “In two weeks we’ll be back at the bunker, and things will be different. We’ll be okay. Just wait and see.”

And he held his baby brother, with no intentions of letting go any time soon. 

*****

You're screaming

And cursing

And angry

And hurting me.

And then smiling

And crying

Apologizing.

*****

Jody stayed most of the day, but ended up getting a call and she informed them that she’d have to get on the move so she could be back in Sioux Falls by the next day. She told them to come by and visit when Sam was released, and to call more often. She gave the boys one last reassuring hand squeeze and hug before going out the door. 

She had known something was different. Cas knew too. 

Something shifted after Sam and Dean had talked. Something for the better. It wasn’t perfect yet, but it was on the road to making things okay. 

As the days went by, Dean could feel the pressure of Sam’s soul start to lessen. He felt it growing stronger, he could feel it finally starting to be able to stand on its own. And with it, so did Sam. 

Dean knew everything wasn’t completely fixed. Things that had built up for years couldn’t be mended with a short conversation. He wished they could be, but that’s not how humans worked. It was a slow process, and some wounds might never completely heal, but Dean was going to be there to help Sam every step of the way. 

~

Snowy forest. Ice littered the ground. Nothing but traps to slip on. 

For the first time, he was himself. Not some other person. Not the other soul who he was bonded with. But him. 

“You’ve been here for a while, haven’t you?” The other soul asked. 

Tall, puppy dog eyes, eyebrows pointed down, concentrating. A hat covering most of the kids long hair. A thick coat around his shoulders, with a scarf around his neck. That was good. The snow was cold. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, the winter breeze biting his cheeks. “I’m sorry.” 

The other one —the one whose body he was usually in when he entered those types of dreams— pressed his lips together. Thinking. “It’s okay.” 

That wasn’t what he’d expected. “Is this your dream?” 

“I guess so.” The brother looked around, examining the icy trees. “How long? Have you watched my dreams?” 

“Since you woke up.” He replied honestly. He had no reason to lie. 

“I think I can see your dreams too sometimes.” Snow gathered in his eyelashes. “I’m sorry too.” 

“What for?” 

“For making you wait.” 

~

Things were getting better. Dean knew it. Cas took Sam out on walks regularly, and eventually they were able to leave the wheelchair behind completely. Kevin called, and Dean had handed the phone over to Sam, and even then he was able to hear the kid-prophet’s excited voice when Sam held it up to his ear. He could tell Kevin was thrilled at the opportunity to talk to Sam for the first time in months. Being in the bunker on his own for so long, Dean knew the kid had to be getting lonely. 

The doctors talked about how much Sam was improving and it got to the point where Dean was counting down the days. He was sure they were getting out of there any time. The idea seemed to make Sam nervous, but Dean knew that his little brother really did want away from the colorless stale hospital. Though the idea of leaving must have been a little scary too.  

Not only was Sam’s strength growing, but he was also up to eating most normal foods, and he was opening up more a little more with each day.

He was talking to Cas more, and was even more willing to communicate with Dean. They talked about the trials. About Purgatory. They talked about Bobby. They talked about Amelia— though the conversations raised a few questions about the girl that he wouldn’t dare ask Sam— and they even talked about Lisa. Sam talked about the books he was reading, and Dean even gave in and started reading a few of them, in hopes it would encourage his brother's ranting. Some days they sat side by side with a book in each of their hands, just content with sitting in each other’s silence. 

Eventually though, the day came. The day Sam got to leave. 

The staff all stopped by and gave them both well wishes and good lucks the day before. They’d all been extremely kind and supportive as they prepared for the eventual release. Dean had gone and gathered a bag of Sam’s clothes from the duffel that lay sitting in the motel room, untouched. Dean took the small stash of proper clothes —not just the sweatpants and T-shirts he’d brought after Sam had first woken up— and when he arrived he gave them over to his brother to change into. 

There was a determined glint in Sam’s eye when he returned. Seeing Sam up and in jeans and one of his old soft flannels, had something in Dean swelling with pride, hope, and excitement. 

Dean knew he’d always remember following his brother out of the hospital room, and turning around as he closed the door behind him. Getting one last look at the place he and Sam had practically lived in for months. Saying goodbye to the first room down the hall and to the left. With the pale walls that he’d stared at for hours, the stiff leather chair that he’d claimed within the first few minutes of being there, and the bed that he’d knelt at, sat beside, cried at. That hospital room would forever be seared into the back of his mind like a brand. 

He’d always remember signing Sam out of the hospital. The woman who stood behind the counter gave them a big grin and a wave as they made their way to the door. 

He’d always remember walking out of that hospital to the Impala with his brother beside him. For the first time in three and a half months. 

He’d always remember the way Sam tried to hide his smile when Dean turned on his music. Not asking for Dean to turn it down, not complaining. Just that whole pure soft smile. It tore Dean to pieces. 

He’d always remember the way that he could feel Sam’s presence, much deeper than ever before. He could feel Sam’s very being, very soul, sitting next to him in the Impala. 

And suddenly that made everything worth it. 

They didn’t even need to stop by the motel that Cas and Dean had stayed at, they’d already been packed and ready to leave long before they went to pick up Sam. Cas sat in the backseat, chattering on and on about his excitement to live at the bunker as a new human. 

A few hours into the drive, they stopped and got a motel. Cas volunteered to try out the couch bed, saying it would be a new experience for him, and Dean wasn’t one to argue with that. Sam looked exhausted, and was out within a few minutes. 

Dean knew the trip would take longer than usual, but he didn’t care. Because it didn’t matter how long it took, as long as Sam was there with him. 

The idea of driving long distances with Sam uncomfortable and exhausted was enough for him to decide that they would separate the long drive to several days. Normally they could get there in one extremely long day of nonstop driving, but not this time. And that was okay. 

Besides, not only was Sam tired, but so was Dean. Ever since they’d preformed the spell, days seemed longer, and it made him all the more weary by the end. Sam wasn’t the only one who was going to need a daily nap routine when they got back. 

The good thing was that the constant presence wasn’t crushing him anymore. It wasn’t overwhelming or suffocating anymore. Just… there. And while some days it felt like he was physically carrying the weight of Sam’s entire soul on his back, other times it was a warm comforting presence at his side. 

As Sam fell asleep in his bed, still fully dressed with his shoes and jacket on, Dean couldn’t help but sit on his bed and smile. He walked over to the bed and took off his brothers shoes, taking their extra blanket and tossing it over his shoulders. 

There was a peaceful look on Sam’s face, and Dean left the bedside lamp on so he’d be able to see if anything at all went wrong. He fell asleep watching his little brother sleep, with no signs of nightmares, and woke to the sight of Sam still sleeping right across from him, just as calmly. 

The next day he was grinning the entire drive. He turned the music up loud, and sang his lungs out, giving Cas and Sam the most passionate performance they’d ever seen. 

Castiel didn’t know the lyrics, but Sam nodded along, sometimes mouthing the words along with Dean. 

The long day was broken up by trips to gas stations and diners, purposely taking extra stops to be able to stretch their legs. Dean stood safely beside his brother the entire time, just in case he might stumble or trip, or if his legs suddenly gave out on him, but Sam didn’t seem like he had needed the help at all. 

They ended that day early too, it had left both the brothers exhausted and ready to go to bed. 

There was one more day of the roadtrip after that, and when they arrived late in the afternoon Sam was asleep in the passenger seat, and Cas was only half awake in the back. 

When they arrived, Dean got Cas to take in their bags and then went to his baby brothers door, opening it up carefully, knowing that Sam’s weight was mostly pressed against it, and Sam slightly opened his eyes at the sudden change. 

Dean guided him into the bunker, Sam still being in a tired haze. They were greeted with an excited Kevin, but he quietly stood back and out of the way when he saw Dean leading Sam back into his room. The older Winchester brought the younger over to the bed and helped him kick off his shoes, before Sam snuggled into the familiar covers. 

He couldn’t help but sigh at the bare walls of Sam’s room as he left, going to find Kevin in the hallway. 

Dean was met by Kevin in the main room with a warm welcome and even a hug, which he hadn’t at all been expecting. 

“I thought you guys were dead.” Kevin admitted. “And then even after you called… I just assumed- and I mean the angels-“ 

“We’ll figure something out.” Dean reassured him. 

“Yeah. We will. I’m just happy you’re back.” Kevin smiled. “When will Sam be awake?” 

“It’s been a long drive.” Dean explained, feeling his own eyes getting heavier. “I know it’s not too late but we’ve been getting worn out a lot easier. He’s down for the night, and I will be soon too, we can talk more in the morning, if that’s okay.” 

Kevin nodded and let Dean head to bed early too. The void of conversation was gone as soon as Cas came in to ask Kevin to show him around the bunker, and talk about how curious he was about human needs.

Dean went to sleep that night on a memory foam mattress looking up at the wall of his bedroom, littered with various trophies and weapons. That night he promised himself that he would decorate Sam’s room to show his little brother what home could really look like. That night he fell asleep smiling.

~

“How are you?” He asked, picking at the grass on the forest floor. Hands were covered in dirt. 

His brother sat across from him, eyes hidden behind a curtain of hair. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m here.” He replied. 

“Are you happy?” And he was just content that his voice was his own, that these dreams weren’t one person or the others, that their dreams had become in sync. Their dreams were united, just like their souls. 

“I think so.” The younger one nodded. “I’m not sure yet.” 

“I am.” He offered, looking up at the green leaves on the trees. No more snow. No more winter. 

It wasn’t so cold anymore. 

“I’m getting there.” Finally the other one looked up, hazel eyes were bright and hopeful. Truthful. 

And right then, Dean knew things were going to be okay. 

~