Disclaimer: Belongs to the WB networks and its creators and producers: as is not mine. References events from the episode "Faith." The title inspired by the poem of the same name by Chilean poet Pablo Neruda.

"The Light Wraps You" by Karen

Sam never did like hospitals, if pressed he would have to say its the combination of both antiseptic mixture of chemicals combined with the startched and pressed uniforms of the staff combined with the distinct smell of sick people. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he'd could ever recall being sick or having to visit some one in the hospital. One would think that after everything they've been throug, it would insted of his older brother, Dean, lying in that hospital bed, it would be the little brother.

Sam sits in the chair by Dean's beside, holding onto his brother's hand, watching him breath, shallowly in and out, trying to think of what to say.
Sam's not the type to hold grudges, all it does is waste a lot of time and energy,
when that time could be put to better uses. The one grudge he is carrying around with him, okay maybe two grudges, is the untimely death of his girlfriend, Jess, and and the continual absence of their father.

One would think that after twenty plus years that their father would know when his sons needed him. Instead, he's stuck here in some southern town waiting for his brother to come out of his coma.

Dean' has always been the favorite, the golden child, the one who always knew what to do and what to say, and even when he didn't have a clue, he certainly had the charm and the confidence to get away with the most outrageous stunts. They wouldn't be in this posititon, to begin with, if not for a certain 'faith healer.'

The strange part, which is becoming more and more common since Sam rejoined the family business of hunting demons and removing the threat of the demonic and the paranormal, is that in order to heal the 'afflicted party, the reverend,
removed the good, for lack of a better word,'spiritual energy from another living person.

Except the Reverend, seemingly was unaware of the source of his power.
His wife, on the other hand, was perfectly aware of what was happenng and she, in fact, enocouraged and ran some of it.

Sam isn't sure exactly what to make of that, he knows that evil exists. He knows that it takes many forms, and he certainly isn't going to have a crisis of faith of his fundamental beliefs over it.

He is just feeling out of sorts and irritated that because of many peoples misguided efforts he could very well lose his brother to an untimely death.

Sam jolts upright from his chair and walks over to the window of the Dean's hospital room facing the east, and grasps a corner of the ivory curtains.

Sam yanked the curtains aside and looked out at the new minted dawn. It has only been a little over twelve hours before they put an end to the danger, and he's stil a little ambivalent over the whole thing. Through the gaps in the parted curtains rays of sunlight dart in through the leaded glass windows and fall on the floor in tiny circles, and the move on to Dean's unconcsious form underneath the blankets. Sam turns around and follows the patterns of the beams of sunlight watching as they form cross-hatching patterns on Dean's face. As Sam watches his brother's eyelids flutter and his lips curve in that sardonic amused smile that Sam remembers and has often amused and irritated him at the same time.

"Dean," Sam says, releasing his brother's hand and rubbing his temples," did I ever tell you, that even though you could be one stern bastard at times, and a real jer. I admired you for that. You knew what you knew, and you never backed down from any challenge."

Dean stirs in the bed and turns his head as if, unconciously, he too is following the patterns of light as they move across the room. Sam smiles and resumes his seat by the bed. "I guess, it's going to be okay, bro."