The Wall

Summary: Death has given Sam back his soul. Will the wall he created be enough to protect Sam from the harsh memories? Will the soul even bring Sam back to how he was? Stand alone. Hurt/angsty Sam /Protective/hopeful Dean.

Spoilers/Tags: Yes. If you haven't watched the episode on 12/10 then don't read yet!

Disclaimer: I don't own nothing and I make no money. Just my way to kill time and spare myself the agony of waiting for an answer.

Rating: I'll go K+ for perhaps language.

Author Notes: Just a quick little piece that I had to get out after watching tonight's episode. How it should've ended instead of that black screen and how I hope it goes when the next episode comes on.


Sam's screams echo throughout the panic room as Dean and Bobby watch while Death reinstalls his soul with hopefully a working wall to protect his younger brother's already fragile mind from the horrors that his soul has been enduring in the Cage.

"If this don't work…" Bobby whispers harshly but he stops from saying the rest, knowing that this was the older boy's last hope to help the brother he has given so much for.

As the lights dimmed and Sam's body went limp on the bed that he was cuffed to in the center of the panic room, the well dressed man in black stood to address the room in general but his gaze was on Dean.

"It's done. His soul has been restored. Just remember what I said about continuing the digging," Death looked down at the young man with no clear expression. "If the wall holds, you will know soon."

"If it…" Dean blinked, wanting to ask but knowing it would be useless as Death wasn't there anymore and it was only him, Bobby, and… "Sammy?"

Hesitating a second, it only took a soft moan from the bed to have Dean across the room, on his knees next to the bed and scrambling to unhook the cuffs with shaking fingers. "Sam? Can you hear me?" he heard Bobby advising caution but he had to believe…he had to believe that it worked…that Sam was Sam again.

It seemed like forever before Sam's eyes flickered under their lids and even longer until those eyes finally opened to stare up at his brother. "…De'n?" he whispered, voice hoarse from screaming.

"You okay, Sam?" Dean asked again, looking hard for some signs while brushing limp hair out of his brother's face and felt his heart stop when a hand grasped his. "Sammy?"

Hazel eyes locked on his, tears brimming and his next move startled Bobby but not so Dean who had been subtly preparing himself for the lunge that he hoped would be coming.

"Dean," Sam shoved up from the bed to put himself into the waiting arms of his older brother, the sudden rush of plain emotion; of feeling the fears, the grief, and above all else the love, that he hadn't been feeling overwhelming him. "I feel…it's…I…you didn't…give up on me."

Swallowing the lump in his throat and glad his back was turned to Bobby, Dean shifted in order to hold on tighter to the little brother he had once briefly believed he had lost and blinking to clear his own eyes. "I'd never give up on you, Sammy," he whispered tightly, voice gruff with emotions that he was barely holding in as the younger man buried his face against his neck and clung to Dean's jacket. "You're my little brother and no matter what now, I'll get you through whatever comes."

"I know," Sam murmured against his brother's neck, not ashamed to be holding on to his brother like he had once as a child. "It's not over," he warned, feeling the pain settling from having his soul shoved back in but so far nothing of the agony or horrors like he had feared. He just prayed it stayed that way.

"We'll face it together, Sammy," Dean promised, easing back to stare into deep looking hazel eyes that shone with emotions that he hadn't seen in his little brother since his return. "We'll face it all together and get you over the rough spots while we're at it."

Sam, suddenly tired, laid back on the thin mattress but still clung to Dean's arm like a lifeline. "Will it still be here when I wake up?"

"Yeah, Sammy. You'll be fine when you wake up and I'll be right here," Dean assured him, carding strong fingers through damp shaggy hair and didn't react when his brother leaned into the touch. "Go to sleep…bitch," he held his breath until slowly his brother opened a tired eye to watch him.

"You're still bossy…jerk," Sam yawned and missed his brother's relieved smile or the whispered 'thank you' he offered to the ceiling as he fell back to sleep, at ease with Dean's presence beside him.

Bobby eased out of the room, giving his boys time alone since he knew that Dean wouldn't want anyone around when the emotions came crashing down on him and he could tell by the way the boy was holding Sam's hand that it wouldn't be long now.

"I'll be upstairs if you need me, Dean," he called but barely got a reply when he seen Dean lay his head on the mattress next to Sam's arm and pretended he didn't see the shaking shoulders of the older Winchester.

Walking upstairs, Bobby made it to the kitchen table before slumping into a chair, dropping his own head into his hands with relief. "God, these boys will be the death of me," he groaned, silently hoping that this didn't backfire on Dean and that Sam was indeed fine with having his soul force-fed down his throat.

The End

A/N: Sorry if it's too short but I was trying to keep it contained…not something I'm good at.