Disclaimer: I don't own the show or the song lyrics at the end. Song is 'Hallelujah'

Note: My mind has finally returned since last Thursday, and this idea wouldn't leave me alone. Yes, it's another tag to No Rest for the Wicked; hopefully you guys aren't tired of them , and the song 'Hallelujah' really put me in the mood to write this!

Summary: Dean called for Sam in Hell…what he hadn't expected was an answer back. Rated K+ for swearing.


Dean was in Hell. At least, he thought he was. It was nothing like he had imagined, no fire and brimstone, no Lucifer or demon in sight. There was thunder, and electricity crackled through the swirling grey and black clouds. Thick hooks dug through his skin, blood bubbled past his cracked lips.

He was alone, completely and utterly alone.

This was so much worse than what Dean had pictured.

He was shivering and sweating all at once, hot but cold. Dean looked down the length of his body, he was barefoot, and his dirty white shirt clung to his chest. His jeans were torn and covered with blood, but he felt no wounds on his body. Apparently whatever damage the hell hounds had done had disappeared when his soul had left his body.

His amulet still hung around his neck. Dean stared at it and thought of Sam. Oh god, Sammy. His brother had seen him get torn apart; Dean could vaguely remember his brother screaming in horror. A bubble of grief swelled in the pit of his stomach, would his brother be able to recover after seeing that?

Two tears escaped Dean's eyes, burning a hot trail down his filthy cheeks. "God, I'm sorry Sam." He said to himself, chin falling forwards onto his chest. An overwhelming need to get to his brother, to comfort him…to make everything better, caused Dean to struggle against the chains.

"Somebody help me!" He cried out into the darkness, he needed to get out, his brother needed him. Dean knew it was pointless, that Sam was on his own for good now. Hell, he'd been attempting to prepare Sam for the past year.

It didn't matter, he still struggled weakly. "Sam!" He cried out, "SAM!"

A voice cut through the gloom almost immediately, it was hoarse and desperate, determined and it was Sam.

"DEAN! No! No!"

Dean's head shot up in complete shock, and he looked around frantically for his brother. Confusion settled onto his tired face when he saw nothing. He was still alone. Demons, he thought brokenly. They were already fucking with him.

The voice came again, and Dean let out a choked sob as Sam's voice echoed all around him.

It was torture of the worst kind.

"You can't have him, YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM!"

Only this time, the words were accompanied by a blinding flash of white light. Dean was aware of Sam's voice and the furious screams of Hell before everything went black.


His return to consciousness was slow, and painful. Dean sucked in a ragged breath of air, he could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, could smell the tang of copper in the air and he could hear…hear Bobby?

What the…?

Eyes snapping open, Dean realized that he was lying on his back, staring up into the bloodless face of Bobby Singer, who was muttering to himself with his fingers pressed up against Dean's neck.

He was no longer in Hell. How…?!

"Dean? Son can you head me? Answer me kid!" Bobby asked, fingers leaving his neck and moving to pat his cheek.

"B-Bobby?" Dean whispered, voice cracking. He felt nauseous and extremely dizzy.

"Holy shit…" Bobby mumbled, "I don't know how the hell you got out of the contract, but you're alive Dean. Just stay still a minute okay? You've only got a few gashes but your pulse isn't very strong and there's a lot of blood on you."

"Sam?" Dean asked hoarsely.

"I'll check him, don't move." Bobby ordered again before moving out of his sight and to the left.

Dean ignored the demand, and turned his head to the side, almost puking when the word titled violently.

Sam lay beside him, mere inches away. Long hair covered his eyes, face turned towards Dean. He could see tears tracks on the kids face. God, Sam…

His brother was unconscious, one hand limply holding his own. Thick trails of blood oozed from Sam's ears, nose and mouth. "Sammy." He said weakly. God, what had his fool of a brother done? Dean ignored the exasperated look Bobby shot him, and continued to stare at his little brother.

"He's got a pulse and he's breathing, Dean." Bobby said quietly, "You both need a hospital; I'm going to get you guys some help."

Dean ignored the last half of what Bobby said, concentrating instead on the fact that his brother was alive. They both were.

The question was…how? He had a pretty good idea, and it scared the shit out of him.

Dean continued to stare at his brother and ponder this thought until his vision went fuzzy and everything faded to nothing.


The next time Dean came to, the smell of disinfectant had replaced the smell of blood, and he could hear mechanical beeps beside his bed. He was in a hospital. Opening his eyes, Dean was slightly relieved to find that some of the nausea had faded away.

"Son? You with me now?"

Dean turned towards Bobby, who sat in a chair beside his bed, looking exhausted. He blinked, finding the energy to talk almost nonexistent.

"You're going to be fine. You had two deep gashes, one across your stomach and the other on your right thigh. Both of 'em were deep but the doc managed to patch them up without any trouble. They couldn't explain why you lost so much blood, but they're pumping you full of more. It's been nearly seven hours since midnight." Bobby said quietly, rubbing at his itching eyes.

Dean's own were half closed, his body apparently still exhausted from the trauma he had experienced. He barely heard what Bobby was saying. "Sam?" He managed to get out.

Bobby sighed and answered, "He's down the hall, doctors are stumped Dean…"

From there Dean heard words like unexplained trauma and brain swelling and deeply unconscious.

"They don't know when he'll wake up…or if he'll wake up." Bobby ended unhappily, worry clear in his voice, ever present trucker hat bunched up in his hands.

Dean remembered trying to get up, and demanding to see his brother. He remembered a nurse entering his room and the rapid beating of his heart before a needle was stuck in his arm and everything melted away.


Four hours later, Dean was awake and signing his walking papers, against medical advice. Bobby was frustrated and worried; he had questions, questions that Dean refused to answer.

Questions he didn't know how to answer.

He was still dizzy as hell, and it took him nearly fifteen minutes to struggle into the clothes Bobby had retrieved from the Impala, his fifty stitches not helping matters. He needed Bobby's support to walk to Sam's room, because he refused to sit in a wheelchair.

A nurse followed them, "You should still be in bed, Mr. Summers!" she clucked disapprovingly.

Dean hadn't asked Bobby how he had gotten him and Sam to the hospital, or what story the man had fabricated. It didn't matter. He shot the nurse an annoyed glance before ignoring her altogether. Bobby helped him sit in the chair next to Sam's bed and turned to leave.

"Thanks." Dean finally spoke, voice quiet.

Bobby nodded, muttered that he'd be in the cafeteria, and disappeared from the room.

Dean looked at his brother properly for the first time since the hounds had taken him. Sam was pale, but blood no longer painted his face. There were various monitors hooked up to him, checking his oxygen levels, blood pressure and monitoring the activity in his brain.

He sat with his brother for hours, not moving…not even speaking. Dean traced his thumb in circles against the back of Sam's hand, and did nothing but think. He eventually licked his lips and asked the question he desperately needed answered.

"What did you do, Sam?"

There was no answer.

God, Sammy…

It had been five days since Dean's deal, and Sam was still unconscious. The doctors didn't know what was wrong. The swelling in his brother's brain had gone down, and all activity was normal. They couldn't explain why Sam wasn't waking up.

Bobby was still there, he had rented out a motel room down the road and was sticking close by. Dean still hadn't answered any of his questions, unable to explain what had happened. He told Bobby that he needed to talk to Sam before he said anything.

That of course had made the older hunter more than a little suspicious. It was obvious that Bobby had some theories of his own. Dean had been more than a little relieved when the older man had simply nodded his head and left to get the both of them coffee.

Dean wasn't sleeping much, he sometimes dozed off in his chair, but otherwise he stayed awake and watched his brother. He'd had a few nightmares of his time in Hell, waking up in a cold sweat and gasping for air.

They weren't the worst nightmares though. Those would be the ones where Sam had a distorted face, an evil laugh and had not one shred of humanity left.

Dean scratched the stubble on his cheeks and sighed deeply. I need you to wake up Sam, I need to make sure that you're okay. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door open. It was nearly midnight, around the time when the night nurse came in to check his brother's vitals.

He sat slumped in his chair, watching tiredly as the nurse approached the bed. She wasn't Sam's usual night nurse and that instantly made Dean more alert.

She wasn't a day over thirty; her long red hair was tied in a ponytail and her eyes were dark blue. Flicking on the bedside light, she looked Sam over with a frown on her face before turning to Dean.

"It was too much for him to handle all at once - just like I figured."

Dean went rigid at these words, and shot the nurse a sharp look. His chair fell backwards with a clatter when her eyes turned inky black. He was on his feet, the demon killing knife swinging forwards before he even realized what he was doing.

"Whoa, easy there Shortbus." The woman snapped, holding up her hands and stepping back.

He froze mid-swing and stared at the redhead. "Ruby?" He growled, lowering the knife to his side.

"The one and only." She grinned, white teeth gleaming.

Dean didn't ask where Lilith had sent her, or how she had gotten away, he didn't give a shit. "What are you doing here?" He hissed, knuckles white as he clutched the blade.

"Well, first off, I wanted my knife back, because you know, it was stolen from me and all…and, well, I thought I'd see the mess Sam got himself into, and gloat of course." Ruby answered bluntly, holding out a hand and looking expectantly at the knife.

"Get the hell away from us, bitch." Dean growled.

Ruby rolled her eyes and dropped her hand. "All I'm saying is that you guys should've listened to me. It's not my fault Sam is here." She snapped.

Dean looked away and stared at Sam, who was completely oblivious to what was going on around him. "What did you mean…that it was too much for him to handle?" He finally managed to grit out.

"You may not be the smartest fish in the sea, Dean, but you know damn well what I'm talking about," Ruby answered casually, "Sam freaked out after the hounds used you as their chew toy. I told you there was bomb inside of him, and it went off. Little brother went boom."

Fists clenching painfully, Dean didn't say a word as she continued.

"He used his powers to rip your soul back from Hell, and he even managed to heal most of you in the process. It would've been impressive if he hadn't knocked himself out."

Dean breathed heavily, his eyes squeezing shut. Damn it, Sammy…what if? God what if…

"Now, if you guys had listened to me when you had the chance, none of this would have happened. Sam would've been able to control his abilities, and his brain wouldn't have exploded and melted out of his ears."

"Shutup!" Dean said harshly.

Ruby shrugged her shoulders but remained silent.

"Just…just go away Ruby…" He finally muttered, rubbing his temples. He was too fucking tired to deal with her.

"I want my knife." Ruby replied stubbornly, arms folded.

"Go away, or I'll give you your knife where you don't want it." Dean snarled, eyes murderous.

Sighing, the demon walked towards the door and growled, "Fine, but I'll be back. If Sam snaps out of this he is going to need to learn how to control these powers…unless you want a repeat episode. Lilith is still out there, and she may be terrified of Sam for the moment, but it won't take long for her to regroup, and when she does…she's gonna be pissed."

Dean didn't watch her as she left.

He didn't go to sleep that night.

When Bobby arrived in the morning, he went out to the Impala and grabbed a few things from the trunk.

Dean returned to Sam's room and drew protection sigils on all four walls, behind the paintings that were meant to cheer the place up. He stashed a bottle of holy water in the drawer beside Sam's bed, ignoring Bobby's questioning gaze.

No demons would be getting into his brothers room again, and…god forbid, if it came down to it, none would be getting out.

Please be okay Sammy…

It had been nearly two weeks since the deal, and the doctors were trying to coax Dean into considering other 'options'. He ignored them, stubbornly glued to his brother's side.

He begged him to wake up, and at the same time feared what would happen if he did. Bobby still didn't leave; he visited Sam's room every day and brought Dean information gathered from his contacts.

There was still no location on Lilith, but demonic activity was still strong.

Dean's nightmares were getting worse; the bits of sleep he managed to catch were full of vivid images…of Hell, Sam with black eyes, thunder and black, bloody hooks. He needed his brother to snap out it…whatever 'it' was; he needed to see if Sam was still Sam.

Maybe then the nightmares would stop.

Staring blankly through the window, Dean almost didn't detect the movement beneath his hand. Blinking, he looked downwards with a confused expression on his haggard face. He stared at Sam's fingers, nearly jerking out of his seat when they curled weakly around his own hand.

"Sam? Sammy? Can you hear me?" He whispered anxiously. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for. Pleasepleaseplease…

Sam's head turned weakly towards his voice, eyes rolling beneath their lids as they tried to open.

"Dnn…" Sam mumbled, voice dry and cracked from lack of moisture and days without speaking.

"Open your eyes, kiddo." Dean encouraged, heart thundering.

Sam listened. Eyes fluttering, they finally opened and tried to focus on Dean's face. He tried to swallow the dryness away, willing moisture back into his throat. "De…?" He managed to get out.

The hunter looked down at his little brother, a lump forming in his throat, all thoughts of the holy water in the nightstand forgotten as he stared into Sam's blue-green eyes. God, if Sam still wasn't Sam then Dean didn't know his brother at all. The moment those eyes had opened and his name had been spoken, Dean had no doubt.

The sudden explosion of his powers hadn't turned Sam dark side, like he had feared from the very beginning.

Sam blinked a few times, looking up at his brother tiredly, before his senses and memories came flooding back. He struggled to sit up, ignoring the feeding tube and the uncomfortable feeling of the catheter. His weak arms tried to haul his upper body upward, failing miserably.

"Hang on a sec, Sammy. Just a sec…" Dean said quickly, pressing the button on the bed to raise the front. He kept one arm on his brother's chest to keep him still.

Once Sam was more or less in a seated position, Dean grabbed the bottle of holy water from the drawer and forced his brother to take a tiny sip, not wanting to leave and retrieve ice chips. The second he set the bottle down Sam had his IV free hand wrapped weakly around his forearm.

"Dean?" He said hoarsely, eyes wide.

"Yeah dude, it's me. You got me out." Dean answered with a tired grin.

Sam's eyes immediately welled up, and he croaked, "God, Dean…you were gone…oh god…"

Dean tried to ignore the moisture building up in his own eyes, finding it practically impossible. He hadn't felt any relief after getting out of Hell, his worry for his brother had overshadowed everything else. "I'm back now Sam. I wasn't even there that long…" He managed to get out, voice cracking.

"The blood…it was everywhere…" Sam whispered.

"I'm here Sam, I'm back…hell, you even managed to repair most of the damage the hounds made…" Dean quietly reassured his brother.

Sam swallowed, staring at Dean, eyes still wide. "You…you're okay?" He asked.

Dean nodded.

And before either brother realized what they were doing, they found themselves hugging each other fiercely, silent tears streaming down both of their faces. They stayed that way for several minutes, Dean pulling away when he felt Sam shaking with exertion.

He helped his brother lay back against the mattress before scrubbing his own face. "I should get a nurse to page your doctor…" Dean trailed off, looking at the doorway uncertainly. He didn't want to leave his little brother quite yet, even if it was only for a minute or two.

"I'm okay, Dean. Don't leave, please." Sam answered, purposely ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of the tube feeding down his nose. He didn't want Dean out of his sight now that he saw him here, alive.

Dean nodded, "Fine, I'll give it a few minutes." He never could say no when Sam said please.

Sam relaxed, and listened quietly as Dean filled him in on what had happened in the last two weeks, including the visit from Ruby and the fact that he hadn't told Bobby much of anything. He left out the fact that he had been scared to death that Sam had turned dark after using his powers…his brother didn't need to know about that.

"What do you remember?" Dean finally asked curiously.

"The hounds…they ki- attacked you. Lilith fired some weird light at me, and freaked out when it didn't do anything. She took off before I could kill her, I went to you…and, and…I just flipped out. It was almost exactly like what happened with Max, on a larger scale…" Sam stopped, coughing painfully.

Dean gave him some more water, and Sam continued quietly.

"The windows started rattling, and then they just exploded…last thing I remember is a pain in my head and hitting the ground. I didn't…I didn't purposely mean to use them, Dean…I swear…but I'm not sorry either."

"I'm just glad you're okay, Sam." Dean said in return, running a hand through his short hair.

Sam nodded, thankful beyond words that he had his brother back. Lilith and his returning powers would be a piece of cake to handle, so long as Dean was there.

There was a moments silence before Dean spoke again, a tentative smile gracing his face. "So, now that you're done with your impression of sleeping beauty, I guess we can bust your pansy ass out of here."

Snorting, Sam replied, "You're the one holding my hand, Dean."

Dean looked down and realized that he was in fact still holding his brothers hand firmly. "Figured you needed it, ungrateful little brat." He feigned being offended, his smile still in place.

His hand didn't move.

"I'm anything but 'little'…that's your department. What was it that Ruby called you again? Shortbus wasn't it?" Sam asked, blinking innocently.

"Bitch!" Dean growled.

Sam's eyes lightened considerably, white teeth gleaming in a bright smile that his big brother hadn't seen in months.



I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music do you?

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled King composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah

Well, there is it. Hopefully it ended okay, wasn't really sure about the last bit haha, I kept changing it around. I know there are unanswered questions- but it felt right ending it here.

I wanted it to end on a positive note! Please let me know what you think.

Xo, Ashley