Chapter 8

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~Long Days and Pleasant Nights

It didn't take long for Dean to realize that the sicker Sam became was in direct correlation to the amount of hovering he performed. As the first week passed, Dean basically never left Sam's side, he ate next to Sam, slept next to Sam, hell, Sam had even managed to convince him to read to him. He only left to shower when he became desperate and even then he was gone only for a couple minutes and either Bobby or John had to stay with Sam during that time.

The two discovered early on that they were actually pretty good at "choo-choo-train" eating, but the name had been changed after Sam had guessed well and punched Dean in the nose the first time he referred to it as that. It was now breakfast, lunch and dinner, though Dean secretly thought of it as "airplane" eating.

It was exactly a week since the Hag had done her freaky spells and when Dean woke up to find Sam unresponsive he thought he was going to have a heart attack from the sheer stress of it all. To be honest, the last thing he remembered for shrieking for his father, for Bobby, for God, anybody who would answer and then he woke up in bed. Apparently he had passed out.

Bobby had tried to reassure Dean that Sam was just going to keep sleeping until the spells wore off and there was no need to panic. From then on, Sam was fed honey mixed with milk and crushed vitamins and Dean was no longer allowed to sleep in the chair beside him. Every couple hours Bobby or John would come upstairs with a mix of the honey-vitamin solution and they would feed the sleeping boy. When night came, they would force Dean to his bed and they would stay up with Sam, continually feeding him every couple hours.

Dean was distraught.

Without his job of taking care of Sam he didn't know what to do with himself.

Fortunately, Sam woke up again four days later and told the excited people standing around him that breathing didn't hurt quite so much. Dean could have wept with joy. But that would have been too chick-flicky.

Over the next couple days Sam steadily improved. He was no longer coughing up blood and he could even sit up in bed himself without help. Dean was sure his smile couldn't get any bigger until Sam told him he was starting to see blurred images and shadows.

Finally, two and a half weeks since they had arrived at Singer Salvage, Sam was able to get up and walk downstairs, his chest no longer burning and his vision crystal clear. Bobby had been so happy despite his grumpy appearance he made bacon and eggs, a rarity for the group.

The Winchesters stayed with Bobby for the rest of the week, taking the time to rest and de-stress.

Finally, John had had enough, however, and announced they would be moving on the next morning, after all, the monsters weren't going to kill themselves.

So, the next morning, the family packed their few supplies into the Impala and turned to say their goodbyes to Bobby.



That was it for them.

Bobby turned to Dean and nodded, patting his shoulder, "You ever need anything and you give me a call."

Dean nodded and got into shot-gun.

Bobby turned to Sam and grappled the young boy into a quick hug before letting go, afraid anyone might have seen past his tough exterior. "Be good now Sam. And make sure you call or write me a letter or something," Bobby ordered.

Sam nodded serious. "I will, Bobby. Thank you." With that, he slid into the back seat and waved out the window to Bobby.

As they drove down the highway a few minutes later, John turned to look at Sam. "I'm sorry Sam." He told the boy. Sam was about to speak before John interrupted him, "I should have listened. I promise I will for now on, though."

Sam nodded. That would last for maybe the next 100 miles.


AlElizabeth: thankee-sai for editing

I was watching Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade last night on the TV and I laughed when Julian Glover died and reminisced about the death of the Hag

3) Chuck was right. Endings are hard