A/N: Another (triple)drabble written for the brothers100 community on livejournal, this time for the prompt "Rescue". The lines in italics are from Act 2, scene 1 from Byron's closet drama Manfred. And the summary I gave it in the story doesn't it do it just, nor does it fully begin to cover what the play is about, so you should definitely read it sometime.
"…Think'st thou existence doth depend on time?
It doth; but actions are our epochs -"
A faint groan from the lump on the bed made Sam look up from the text with eager eyes. "Dean?" he murmured, leaning forward and squeezing his brother's hand.
He couldn't keep the smile off his face as the fingers finally, finally returned the pressure. "Hey," he greeted as bleary green eyes stared up at him.
Dean blinked slowly as he scanned Sam's face, lingering particularly on the split lip and the bruised cheek. "Y'kay?" he breathed, voice hoarse from lack of use.
Sam nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. And you will be, too."
Dean's lip twitched in a shadow of a smirk. "You know it," he replied, voice firm even though it was barely audible.
Sam swallowed again, keeping his eyes open so he could see Dean here, alive, in front of him – not like when Sam had found him a week ago, bleeding, unconscious, dying…
Sam blinked, jerking out of his reverie and looking at Dean, who stared back knowingly through half-fallen eyelids. Sam glanced down at the worn copy of Manfred. "Just a book one of the nurses gave me."
Sam shrugged a little. "It's about a guy who's managed to take control of the fate of his soul, but he's miserable because his lover died."
Dean snorted as he relaxed back into his pillow. "Typical," he breathed.
Sam chuckled, patting Dean's left elbow just above his cast. "Sleep, dude. I'll be here."
Dean hummed in acknowledgment as his breathing evened out. Sam smiled as he sat back and started reading again, knowing that his voice was bringing Dean back from the brink. Sam wasn't done rescuing his brother just yet.
Have made my days and nights imperishable…"