Chapter 13

Sam sat down at the edge of the bed, chewing on his thumbnail, his leg bouncing nervously as he stared for the thousandth time at his brother's still form lying beneath the ugly green motel comforter. As the minutes dragged on, he was regretting his former decision to not take Dean to the hospital, which had been his initial instinct, but then he remembered that Samuel Baker's credit card was nearly maxed out and Dean Johnson's was in no better shape. Sam sighed at the thought, and mentally reminded himself to tell Dean they would have to reapply soon whenever the elder decided he was going to wake back up.

It was the complete lack of showing anything closely resembling that of an attempt to rise, that caused Sam to grow anxious because for the most part, Dean had seemed okay, all things considered. After he'd managed to calm him down, which had taken a hell of a lot, Dean appeared to be coherent, broken from whatever had entranced him, and had even allowed Sam to check him again and again for injuries. The youngest had been stunned when he'd found only abrasions and the beginnings of bruises, nothing broken or shattered. Sam knew his older brother was strong, but also was sure of the fact that there was no way Dean could've got out with nothing more than scratches unless further protected. Something was in that cabin with his brother, Sam was sure of it now, and the wild look that had so ravaged Dean's features was testament to that. The hard part would be getting Dean to relay that information to him.

He had tried when he'd helped the elder make his way to the car, stopping andtalking him through each coughing fit that overtook as Dean's starving and greedy lungs craved for more air. He'd questioned on the car ride back to the grave site letting his eyes drift away from the road to gaze at the back of his older brother's head as the elder stared silently out the window. By the time he'd actually reached the cemetery, Dean's gravelly voice broke the silence for the first time since Sam had dragged him out and had insisted on finishing the job himself, since he was the one who left it undone in the first place. Sam couldn't remember the exact words he'd used when he caught sight of Dean's hand making its way to the door handle, but they'd worked, whether or not that was due to the elder's state of exhaustion or his forcefulness, the youngest was unsure, he chose to believe the latter.

No more than 30 minutes had been needed to torch the exposed salted bones and fling the dirt back upon the ash. Sam had moved swiftly but meticulously and managed to trek back to the car with all the abandoned gear in tow, Dean's jacket held firmly in hand. Sam had smiled at the thought of his brother's gratitude for him retrieving the prized item, but frowned when he saw Dean fast asleep slumped against the passenger door.

Sam removed his currently bent glasses, yet another thing he couldn't pay to fix, and scrubbed his hands against his face, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. That had been two days ago, and Dean was still out cold. If it weren't for the steady rise and fall of his brother's chest and the rhythmic breaths that he obsessively checked every five minutes, one could think his brother…well, not alive.

The younger kicked at the coarse carpet a few times more and then made his way over to check over the cuts and gashes hidden beneath square patches of white. Sam gasped yet again at seeing his brother's chest, a kaleidoscope of black, blue, green, and yellow, a far cry from the tanned skin he was so used to seeing. The cuts were healing well, but he'd known that already because he'd checked them at least five other times that morning, and over twenty in the past two days. Sam couldn't help it, when he was worried, he did one of two things—pace or work. And seeing as pacing in the cramped room was rather dizzying to say the least he had opted to play mother hen until Dean forced him to stop, and even then he wasn't sure if he would.

Once content that Dean was very much alive, Sam sought out the TV remote and settled down next to his big brother on the bed, mentally stating that the only reason for the action was merely that he wouldn't be able to hear Dean's breathing patterns with the sound on.

He flipped aimlessly for a while before landing on one rendition of Godzilla, Dean's favorite. He smirked and nudged Dean lightly, laughing as he reiterated the time their father had taken away Dean's recording of the movie as punishment and how Dean had turned the house upside down looking for the thing.

Sam let out a deep breath. He didn't know why he bothered but for the past few days he'd taken a liking to talking to his unconscious brother, as if the sound of his voice would cause the elder to stir. He asked a lot of questions, most of them incredibly stupid, in hopes that Dean would mumble some smart-ass reply, but never got one. That didn't deter him though, he'd read somewhere that coma patients can still hear and somewhat understand whatever is spoken to them, so if nothing else he was giving his brother tons of new material to use against him. And Sam was sure Dean appreciated that. Plus, it was the only way he was able to keep from pulling his hair out in concern.

It was in the middle of the battle between Godzilla, Mothra and his Cosmos, not to mention Battra that Sam grimaced and shifted uncomfortably because something was trying to bury into his ribcage. It took him a second, and only a second, to snap out of his movie-watching experience and see that it was his brother's shoulder as Dean moved stiffly, his eyes struggling to open.

"That's it, Dean, c'mon" Sam coaxed, his face mere inches from the elder's as he focused his full attention on Dean's efforts. A painful moan filled the air as Dean drifted back into consciousness and his eyes fluttered open to Sam's relief.

"There you go, Dean. Welcome back." The youngest spoke softly with a huge smile plastered on his face. Sam waited for some form a reply to come from Dean but instead watched his brother's head loll to the left, his hazel eyes threatening to shut once more. Before he knew it Sam had his hands on Dean's cheeks, forcing him to look him in the eye. "No. Dean, no. You have to stay awake, ok?"

"Mmmhmm" Dean groaned, widening his eyes as he tried to focus on Sam.

"Good. Good." Sam nodded, releasing his hold on his brother's face, and noticed that Dean was licking his dry lips. "You thirsty?"

Sam didn't wait for Dean's reply. He jumped off the bed, hustled in to the bathroom, and began filling the complimentary Styrofoam cup with water, ducking his head out of the frame from time to time, and rambling at a loud volume to ensure his brother was still awake. Sam hurried back to the bed, set the cup on the nightstand, and helped Dean into a sitting position.

"Thanks" Dean mumbled, as he lifted a weak hand to take the water. Sam grabbed the cup once more and hesitated for a moment before passing the cup over into Dean's grasp. To his pleasant surprise, Dean managed to maintain a grip on the cup and took a few slow small sips of water before handing the cup back, licking his lips once more before speaking again. "How long?"

"Two days, 6 hours and 23 minutes." Sam rattled off, glancing down at his watch. He brought his gaze up just in time to catch the last remnant of Dean's tired smirk. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to get up."

"Wish I hadn't" Dean muttered, rubbing his temples.

"Do you need some aspirin or something?" Sam asked nervously

"No, I'm ok." Dean responded slowly, letting his hand drop back into his lap.

"Of course you're ok. You're alive." Sam stated, laughing at himself for saying the obvious. Dean huffed at the comment and cocked his head to the side studying Sam's face.


"What? Something wrong?" Sam stiffened anxiously awaiting the reply

"Your face." Dean pointed.

"Yeah, well, I have you to thank for that." Sam quipped lightly, brushing his hand over the tender jaw-line where a nice sized bruise was surfacing.


"Let's just say you put up a hell of a fight when I pulled you out. What happened by the way? I mean, did you think I was someone else?"

"Sorry." Dean said the word truly apologetic, dropping his head almost in shame.

"Dude, it's not your fault. You were out of it. Really, really out of it." Sam half-joked, trying to lighten the mood because Dean's face held a look of remorse the younger was sure he hadn't seen in years.

"Maybe. Just…I don't know." Dean shrugged.

"Don't know what Dean?" Sam pressed, shifting his position on the bed to better face the elder.

"I thought…never mind." Dean muttered, sliding back down and resting his head on the lumpy pillow.

"Dean, c'mon. You thought…"

"I thought I saw mom." Dean's voice was muffled by the pillow and Sam had to strain to hear his words.

"Mom? You saw mom?" Sam questioned, confusion and fear in his voice as he realized how close he'd been to actually losing Dean.

"I don't know." Dean replied, pushing his head further into the pillow in attempt to ward off Sam's advance. It didn't work.

"What do you mean, you don't know? You either saw her or you didn't. Did she say anything to you?" Sam's curiosity always did get the better of him, but he always felt it his job and priviledge as the younger sibling to ask and push until he got answers otherwise between Dean and his father he would've never gotten a straight answer in his entire life.

"No. Kind of. S-she was just there." Dean made a conscious effort not to turn and look at Sam, and not only because of the dampness ever present around his eyes, but because a part of him resented Sam for pulling him away from her. Dean closed his eyes, the image of his mother kneeling before him, comforting him, still so realto him.

"Dean, I-I don't uh…" While Sam struggled to find the word,Dean fought to reign his emotions, his tired state not helping his cause in the least.

"Do you think she was there to take you?" the question hung in the air for some time. Dean replayed the last few moments of watching his mother. Her gaze turned skyward.

"No." Dean reasoned, turning over to look at Sam. "She was protecting me and waiting for you."

"For me? But Dean I didn't see her." Sam spoke cautiously, trying to understand his brother's point and brush aside the thought that it could've have simply been a smoke-inducedhallucination.

"To save me." Dean whispered, his eyes bearing deep into Sam's, and his face solemn as though revealing a secret of the utmost importance.

"Well, I told you I would." Sam stated firmly with a curt nod, a small smile creeping onto his face as he watched his brother shift into a comfortable position and slump when he'd found one. "Dean? Dean?"

Sam leaned over his brother, staring down at his sleeping face, and glad that he too could rest now. He had thousands more questions, but they could wait. For now, everything was as it should be in their abnormal world. Sinking down next to Dean, Sam snuggled in under the comforter and drifted off to sleep.

The brother's slept peacefully, but were awakened once again, not more than an hour later, by an all too familiar ring.


Okay so there you have it...the ending. I hoped you liked it and so sorry i didnt post earlier but i had six assigments/tests this week so that wasnt an option. If you would lemme know what you thought of this chapter or the whole story all together that would be great (it's the purpley button to the bottom left) haha...And see...i even set myself up for my next about that?