Chapter Text
Sam had good days and he had bad days but it seemed that he had more good days than bad.
It wasn’t like that at first. It had been so much worse.
After Sam had jumped into the Cage with Lucifer and dragged Michael along Dean had resigned himself in never seeing Sam again, not even in Heaven. He‘d have memories but it wouldn’t be Sam. So with a heavy heart, he had gone to Lisa like he had promised Sam he would in the hopes that Sam could at least have that little hope in Hell.
Dean had wished he had thrown himself in with his brother; at least they would’ve been together.
The days had turned to weeks and the weeks to months and before he knew it, Sam had been gone for a year. Dean had still felt the pain of losing his baby brother as sharply as the first day and he doubted it would ever lessen.
He had been alone, missing Sammy more than he would a limb. Dean had had no hope in ever seeing him again.
Then a miracle happened.
Dean had been helping Lisa set the table for dinner when a flicker from a streetlamp outside the window had caught his attention. Dean had dropped the plate he was holding and had run out the door.
Sam had been under the streetlamp looking confused and scared but whole. He had even been wearing the same thing he had jumped into Hell with. Dean had almost fallen to his knees in thanks but instead took Sam’s hand and led him into the house.
Dean had tested Sam to make sure it was really him. Throughout all that time Dean had talked to Sam hoping to get a reaction but none ever came. Sam’s eyes were glassy and staring at a distance, his mouth opening and closing, he was shivering, and he flinched at any sudden movements. Sam seemed shell-shocked.
When Sam passed all of the tests Dean felt real happiness and hope he hadn’t known he was holding back on overwhelmed him.
He had his brother back.
****
Dean helped Sam to bed; he didn’t like going to sleep without Dean by his side. Dean didn’t mind, not after having lost Sam to the Cage. After feeling the pain of having lost his brother and knowing that he would spend eternity burning with the Devil and Michael, Dean was glad to have him back, broken or not.
After Sam had come back, Dean had bundled his little brother up, kissed Lisa goodbye, gave Ben a pat on the head and then headed toward Bobby. It wouldn’t have been fair to stay with his freshly out of Hell younger brother and them. Sam wasn’t up to being around other people that weren’t his family. Just the flashbacks and nightmares alone would have been too much for Lisa and Ben.
Lisa and Ben deserved to live their lives and having Sammy back meant that Dean couldn’t be part of theirs. In the end, it hadn’t been hard to choose Sam. If he was being honest there hadn’t been a choice. Sam was all Dean had wanted since Sam had thrown himself in the Cage to save the world. Sam was all Dean had ever needed in his life to be truly happy.
Dean headed toward Bobby and happily took care of Sam.
It hadn’t been easy at first.
Sam had nightmares that rivaled Dean’s when he had first escaped from Hell. Dean hadn’t expected any less. Sam’s time in the Cage made Dean’s time in Hell probably look like a fucking trip to the park.
There had been many sleepless nights, nights when Dean held his gigantic little brother and rocked him. There had been days when Sam didn’t know he was out of the Cage and thought Dean and Bobby weren’t real. When he thought he was still being tortured and all he could do was scream and scream. The wounded sounds that came out of Sam’s mouth always broke Dean’s heart into a billion pieces.
Those had been the bad days. The days when Sam couldn’t distinguish what was real from memories that still tortured him. The bad days consisted of days when Sam attacked Dean thinking it was the Devil wearing Dean’s face.
There had been many times when Dean had bruises and bites from his younger brother who was trying to defend himself from his own memories; trying to defend himself from two pissed off archangels.
Dean didn’t care. He would take a beating every day of his life as long as it meant that Sam was out and with him. Eventually, after a few weeks, the episodes became less and less and Sam was alert more often than not.
He still didn’t talk. At least, not when he was lucid. When he was having a bad day and hallucinating things that weren’t there, that was the only time Dean heard his brother’s voice. Sam yelled out in a mixture of English and Enochian and Dean could do nothing but try to calm his younger brother down.
The good days consisted of quiet days where Sam followed Dean around like a puppy. He ate, played card games with Dean, and helped give Dean tools when he fixed old cars in Bobby’s junkyard. He had to do something since Bobby was doing them the favor of letting them stay at his house. Bobby also had to deal with a messed up Sam and sometimes got hurt in the process. Taking apart old cars and putting them back together was the very least Dean could do.
Dean joked and talked enough for both of them and Sam listened to every word as if they were some important religious text coming straight from the mouth of God. Sam gave small smiles and little giggles in response to Dean’s silliness or thoughts.
Sometimes Sam got lost in his own head if Dean didn’t speak to him.
Dean sometimes wondered if Sam was waiting for something bad to happen. It was almost as if Sam didn’t believe that he was truly out of the Cage and with Dean on Earth. Dean hoped it wasn’t that but deep down he had a feeling that was the reason Sam wasn’t getting much better quicker. Dean wished he could help Sam more, help him know that it was all real.
The best he could do was take care of Sam and talk to him.
Sam’s grunt of annoyance caught Dean’s attention.
Sam looked at Dean with big eyes and frowned a little. Dean smiled. Sam loved Dean’s attention and wanted Dean to be with him 24/7. It was as if Sam was afraid that if Dean wasn’t with him he would disappear. Dean would be lying if he said he hated it. Dean was thriving on Sam’s need to be by his side. He knew he should feel guilty and try to foster Sam’s independent nature but he couldn’t help but be selfish and want Sam by his side, too.
Dean started stroking Sam’s hair. It had grown longer than Sam had kept it in the past. It now reached Sam’s shoulders. Sam got too scared when he saw scissors getting close to him so Dean didn’t really fight him on that front. At least, not yet. Soon, though, Dean would have to find a way to cut Sam’s hair.
Like he was hoping, the repetitive motion had Sam’s eyes drooping until they eventually closed. Sam gave one last full body wiggle in his blankets before finally falling asleep. Dean couldn’t help but smile.
His smile turned into a frown as Sam started shivering. He sighed. Ever since coming out of Hell, Sam couldn’t seem to get warm. Dean had gotten into the habit of buying Sam warm clothes. He had been worried Sam would suffer from heatstroke over the summer because of all the layers he was wearing but he had seemed fine. Even dressed as if he was expecting below freezing temperature Sam had the habit of standing right where the sun was strongest. Sam was always cold, it seemed, and now that winter was almost here Sam wore even more layers and shivered more often. It was as if Sam’s body had forgotten how to warm itself up.
Dean went and got more blankets to pile on top of Sam to make sure he was a bit more comfortable.
Dean couldn’t help but continue stroking Sam’s hair until he himself felt the pull of sleep. He changed into an old t-shirt and sweatpants and laid on the other bed in the room. His body was angled close to Sam’s bed and he slept with an arm outstretched toward Sam in case he needed to get to his younger brother faster.
Dean’s face softened as he smiled. Sam looked so young and soft while sleeping. His hand was up to his mouth and he had curled into himself. The shivering had, thankfully, stopped and Sam had a soft smile gracing his face. Dean couldn’t help but give thanks again to whoever or whatever had gotten Sam out of that literal Hellhole.
****
A few hours later Dean woke up to a whimpering Sam. He picked his head up and saw Sam tossing and turning in his bed. Dean quickly got up and went to him.
There wasn’t a night when Sam didn’t have nightmares but this one seemed to be worse than usual. Sam was whimpering and sweating cold. Dean put his hand on Sam’s shoulder trying to stop him from moving.
“Sam, Sammy, wake up, you’re having a bad dream. Sam!”
Sam continued tossing and turning and muttering in his sleep. Dean was getting desperate, he wanted Sam to wake up from whatever nightmare he was having and comfort his little brother. It hadn’t been this bad in a while. Dean shook Sam really hard hoping that would snap Sam out whatever he was dreaming about. It worked.
Sam opened his eyes. They were wild and unfocused. Before he could react, Sam had gotten up and attacked Dean. His hands were in a claw-like position and he was trying to scratch Dean’s face.
“Sam, stop, you’re dreaming! It’s me, Dean, your brother.”
“No, you’re not, you can’t trick me! Dean isn’t here, you’re not him, you’re not HIM!”
Dean shouted in pain when Sam bit him on his shoulders. Fuck, that hurt!
“Sammy, please, wake up,” Dean struggled and tried to get a hold of Sam and subdue him. He couldn’t do much but keep Sam’s hands away from him. Sam was nothing more than a hundred and fifty pounds of adrenaline, fear, and self-preservation.
Dean was worried about the damage Sam’s long nails could do to him. Dean rarely cut Sam’s nails because he’d get scared whenever the nail clippers would get anywhere near him. The only time Dean was able to cut them was when Sam was asleep but Dean had been putting it off. Right now, those long nails were inches away from his eyes. He was going to pay for procrastinating if Sam did any damage with those things.
Sam didn’t stop attacking, he tried to wound Dean however he could. Suddenly, Sam’s weight disappeared from on top of him. Bobby was suddenly in front of Dean’s line of vision.
Sam bared his teeth like a wild animal and attacked Bobby.
“Sam, no,” Dean got up to try to stop Sam but it was too late. Sam had Bobby pinned on the floor and proceeded to punch, bite, and scratch their surrogate father. In the thirty seconds that it took Dean to get to Bobby and then get Sam off of him, Bobby had been a bloody mess and bruises were starting to blossom.
“You’re not them! I won’t let you trick me you bastard,” Sam tensed and Dean knew he was getting ready to attack again. He couldn’t have that. Sam could seriously hurt Bobby, or worse, himself. Dean didn’t care if Sam hurt him but Dean would never forgive himself if Sam injured Bobby or himself.
“Sam, it’s us, you’re out, man, you’re out.”
“Stop lying,” he roared before charging toward Dean like a bull. Dean sidestepped and Sam crashed onto the wall. Dean flinched when he heard something crack. The screaming started soon after.
“Sam, Sammy, what’s wrong?”
“No,” was the last coherent thing Sam said before he started screeching like a fucking wounded animal. Dean couldn’t make out what Sam was saying. Sam was on the floor, his back arched and he looked as if his body was being pulled upward, painfully. His eyes were wild and he was following God knew what with his gaze. There was primal fear swimming in the depths of Sam’s eyes and Dean felt a hole opening in the pit of his stomach. There wasn’t much he could do to help Sam at the moment. He could only grab a hold of Sam and rock him so he did. Sam was cold all over. Dean felt like he was hugging a block of ice.
“Bobby, can you get me a blanket, please?”
He took the soft blanket from Bobby’s hand and tried his best to bundle Sam up in it. It was hard as Sam was squirming and still trying to fight a little. The struggles were getting weaker, though, and Dean had a feeling that Sam’s strength was waning.
He kept up a litany of soft words and comforts hoping they would eventually reach Sam’s psyche and he would recognize where he was and who was holding him. Sam didn’t stop screaming. His voice soon gave out and he could only produce hoarse whimpers.
Dean felt his heart was being crushed by an invisible fist every time he heard Sam’s wounded cries. They didn’t sound human. He wished he could take all of Sam’s memories away. He wished he had the ability to snap his finger and make his brother better.
He couldn’t. The best he could do was hold his brother and hope to bring him back to reality, to be Sam’s anchor in the storm that was battering him around.
An hour after the sun rose Sam finally went limp in Dean’s arms. He was still awake but it looked like he was out of it. Dean rocked Sam some more before moving. Sam whimpered as he was manhandled to his bed.
Sam mewled in fear and discomfort as Dean undressed him. The sweat had dried and was cool making Sam shiver. Dean couldn’t keep Sam in those clothes, they were dirty and reeked of fear and desperation. He got some wipes and cleaned Sam as best as he could. He knew that getting Sam to shower would be an uncomfortable challenge that would just cause Sam more distress. Besides, wipes worked just as well.
Sam was shivering so badly by the time Dean was done that it looked as if he was having a seizure. Dean frowned. He didn’t like that comparison. He went to Sam’s drawer and took out a t-shirt, a long sleeve plaid shirt that was lined with fleece, a hoodie, a pair of thermal socks, and the warmest pair of sweatpants that Sam owned.
“Hey, Sammy, stand still for me while I dress you, okay,” he helped Sam put on the t-shirt first and then the plaid shirt followed. Sam whimpered miserably as his body gave a very strong shiver, “Hey, I know, Sammy, you’re cold, this will help, okay?”
Dean cooed at Sam as if he was a small child while he finished dressing him. Sam’s shivering lessened but didn’t stop completely. Dean gave a wan smile. He couldn’t win them all. He made Sam lie down on the bed and piled a bunch of blankets on Sam.
Sam hadn’t stopped whimpering the whole time, it was punctuated with the clattering of teeth. Dean sang under his breath and stroked Sam’s hair in the hopes of calming him down. God, he wished he could do more of his brother.
Eventually, Sam fell into a restless sleep. It was only until he was truly sure that Sam was out for the count did Dean let himself sag in fear and fatigue.
Now that he didn’t have Sam to take care of he felt every bite, scratch, and punch Sam had given him acutely. He should probably go bandage himself up, make sure Bobby was okay. He didn’t move, staying where he was, staring at Sam. Sam had a crease between his eyebrows. His mouth was twisted into a sneer and Dean could see Sam’s eyeballs moving rapidly behind his eyelids. He wasn’t resting the way he should be.
Dean sighed, it seemed it was going to be a bad day.
“How is he?”
Dean didn’t bother looking up, he knew how banged up Bobby was. Bobby was sporting a black eye, his lip was busted and he had bandaged his arm where Sam had bitten him hard enough to actually take the skin off. Dean was sure that Bobby had more bruises and scratches on his torso. It was Dean’s fault for not being able to calm Sam down, for not being able to bring his brother back to the real world. Dean felt like shit. He had failed Bobby and Sammy.
Instead of answering Bobby’s question, Dean responded with, “Give me a week and I’ll find a place so Sam and I can leave.”
Bobby’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, “The hell you talking about, boy?”
“He attacked you, Bobby. You’re hurt because of me. It isn’t fair that you should put up with me and Sam’s PTSD. You deserve to live in peace in your own home.”
Bobby glared at Dean and then smacked him upside his head, “Hey, what was that for?”
“That’s for you being an idjit! You better not dare leave and take that boy with you. If you want to leave because you don’t want to be here, that’s fine. But if you leave because you think I don’t want you here then you obviously have shit for brains.”
Dean didn’t know what to say. He looked at Bobby with misty eyes. Bobby’s expression softened but his voice was still gruff when he spoke again.
“You and Sam are my boys. You’ll always have a home here. Besides, after everything that kid has been through I think I can forgive a few boo-boos. I’m not a five-year-old that’s going to cry every time something or someone attacks me. I’ve had much worse before from hunting and I didn’t cry then, I’m definitely not going to cry now.”
“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean whispered, gratitude coloring his voice.
“Whatever, that doesn’t mean you won’t help around the house still. I need someone to answer my phones. I’m tired of dealing with idjits.”
Dean laughed. He looked down and saw that Sam was awake. He had only dozed off for an hour.
“Hey, Sammy, how you feeling?”
Sam burrowed deeper into the blankets. As expected, he didn’t verbally answer but he did start crying. Dean crouched down and met Sam’s eyes.
“What’s wrong, Sammy, please, talk to me.”
“I’ll leave you two alone. I’ll make Sam and you some breakfast.”
“Thanks, Bobby, you’re the best.”
Bobby grunted and the room fell silent. Sam stared at Dean, he had his tongue out a bit and a wrinkle on his forehead.
Don’t think too hard, Sammy, you might hurt yourself.
Dean took Sam’s hand instead. He rubbed his thumb over Sam’s calloused palm. Dean remembered when both of Sam’s hands could fit in one of Dean’s. Now they were huge. Dean brought the hand he was holding up to his forehead, almost as if he was asking for forgiveness.
Sam’s hands had carried the weight of the world. Those hands had been able to grab a hold of Lucifer, a fucking archangel, and wrestle back control to save the world. Those hands had grabbed Michael and pulled him down with him ensuring that the world would stay safe from any future plans to start the Apocalypse again.
Those hands were now in Dean’s, ice cold and trembling. They were still strong, the strongest that Dean had ever seen. Now it was Dean’s turn to be strong for Sammy.
“Please don’t leave me,” came a soft voice, whispering.
Dean looked up in surprise. Was he going crazy or had Sam just talked?
“Please don’t burn anymore, I don’t want you to burn. I don’t want you to leave, I want this to be real. Please don’t leave me again.”
Dean stood up and got in the small bed with Sam. He brought Sam up to his chest, “Never Sammy, never, I promise.”
Dean held on to thin shoulders as they shook while Sam cried. Dean remembered Sam before he had thrown himself in the Cage. He had been two hundred pounds of pure, lean muscles. Now, he was barely a hundred and fifty pounds. There were days at a time when getting Sam to eat an apple let alone a full meal was hard. The results were a smaller, thinner Sam that barely weighed anything.
Dean sighed and put his chin on top of Sam’s head, “I won’t ever leave you, Sammy, I promise.”
A few moments later Bobby walked in with a bowl of oatmeal and a small plate of scrambled eggs for Sam and sunny side up eggs, bacon, and toast for Dean.
“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean moved around to be able to get the bowl of oatmeal first to start feeding Sam.
“No problem. Don’t worry about doing anything today, just take care of Sam.”
“Thanks,” Bobby nodded once and left the two brothers alone.
“Think you can eat?” Dean asked.
Sam’s trembling hand tried to grab hold of the bowl but he couldn’t get a good grip. Sam whined and buried his face in Dean’s neck.
“Hey, it’s okay, let me help you.”
Dean got the spoon and slowly fed Sam. He didn’t stop until Sam had finished all the gooey oatmeal in the bowl. He went for the scrambled eggs next but Sam turned his head and whined. Dean sighed, at least he got Sam to eat all the oatmeal. Sam rarely had an appetite after having an episode like he had the night before.
“Okay, Sammy, no more food.”
Sam smiled a bit and then laid his head on top of Dean’s chest. Dean rubbed Sam’s arms and whispered reassurances into Sam’s ears until he fell asleep again.
Sam may not be the same as he was before being tortured in the Cage but he was back. Dean didn’t mind taking care of his brother. After having lost him, having him back was the best thing that could’ve happened to him. He didn’t care if he Sam needed him for the rest of their lives, he had his brother back, that was all that mattered.