Summary:  The Winchester family is faced with something it never saw coming not even in their worst fears, especially Dean's.
A/N:  Yet, another take on the events following “Devil’s Trap.” This will be AU because this story will not follow the likely outcome of the season opener.
Disclaimer:  The characters of Supernatural were created by Eric Kripke. The show is owned by the CW network. No profit is being made.

Two Days Later, Following Sam’s Birthday

“Okay Sam,” Mel encouraged from his rolling stool in front of the young man. “Grasp the parallel bars and lean forward and stand,” he said as he made sure he had locked down Sam’s wheelchair from moving. Mel reached up and grabbed the harness belt around Sam’s hips to steady him. Dean stood a few feet away on the wall watching and anticipating his little brother’s first steps for the second time in his life. Sam’s face was flushed as he struggled to hold his weight on his weak legs. Dean could see Sam’s arms tremble under the strain. “That’s it Sam,” Mel urged. “Now take your right foot,” and Mel tapped the leg he wanted the young man to move first. “Lift up and move forward. Keep it small.” It looked a bit awkward, but without the current ability to take the fluid second step with the other leg that usually indicated walking Sam looked a little apprehensive to make any grand gestures. His right foot lifted ever so slightly, and mostly equated to a shuffle when he actually went for the actual movement.

“There that’s good. You’re doin’ it. Now move your hands a little more forward and move your left leg as you do, so you can get some forward movement.” Sam grunted quietly at the effort. His left leg didn’t want to cooperate, and his left foot wouldn’t scoot, so he tried lifting his leg a little more, and his ankle flopped weakly in the air, and he tried to make the step, but his left leg gave out, and he lurched forward. Dean stepped off the wall afraid his brother would hurt himself. Mel held firmly on Sam’s harness, “I got ya buddy.” He comforted. Sam’s arms were trembling violently as he fought to stay standing. “Hey, hey,” Mel said standing up, as he helped Sam back down into his wheelchair. “It’s hard work, okay. You almost did it today.”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean replied with a beaming smile. “It’ll happen, okay?”

Sam stared at the ground, and when Mel went to unlock the wheels Sam jerked his hand out to stop him. “No leave. Do again.”

“Sam,” Mel began. “You should take a breather. We’ll try again tomorrow.” Sam shook his head.

“No. Try again. Now.” His brow was creased in tension and frustration.

“Sammy, listen to Mel. You could hurt yourself if you push to hard, too fast.”

“No,” Sam’s voice was strong and the stubbornness behind the word undeniable. He grasped the poles and jerked himself up again into a standing position. His arms quivered, but remained steady.

“Okay, this man means business,” Mel quipped as he remained standing to help Sam. He pushed his stool away to open up the area for them between the bars. He put his hands on the hip harness.

“No, do by self. No help.”

“Sorry kiddo, but if you fall I gotta be there to keep it from happening.”

“Let do myself. Please,” Sam’s eyes a mixture of raw emotion and determination.

“Fine, but I’m staying right here, and I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

Dean could feel his jaw muscle tense as he watched Sam’s inner struggle with his rebelling body. Watching his brother struggle with the task of taking a full complete step made his chest ache. He felt cold and hollow at the inability to make this all go away for his little brother. Sam struggled with his right leg and made the movement. He grunted under the strain as beads of sweat formed on his forehead and rolled down the sides of his face. He fought with the left foot that didn’t want to do anything, but drag, as if it were broken at the ankle and had no control. His arms shook as he struggled to slide them across the bars. His knuckles white from the tightness of his grip. “Not want work,” his voice hitched in anger and fear.

“Take your time,” Mel encouraged. “Remember I told you your brain might have a different effect with other sides of your body because of the head injury. You can do this Sam, just be slow and deliberate about it. Take control, pull up and push out just like you do against my hand when were on the mats.” Sam’s face scrunched in tight concentration. He looked up for a moment and met eyes with his big brother standing and watching with warm eyes.

“You got it Sammy,” his voice encouraging. “Now show that bitch called walking who’s her daddy.” Sam’s mouth quirked up at the edges and he smiled despite his shaking body. Sam locked eyes with Dean and pulled all the support and strength he could from those hazel eyes, and he lifted his left leg, and took a step. When his left foot connected with the ground he remained looking at his brother and picked up his right foot and took a step. “Sammy! You’re doing it!”

“I’ll be damned,” Mel spoke in astonishment. “Well…don’t stop now.” Sam kept looking at his brother, never breaking his gaze. Mel moved backward in time with Sam’s forward steps. Sam struggled with determination, and with effort he picked up and put down each foot, and slid his hands along the pole. And before he knew it he was at the end of the pole with room enough for one more complete step. Mel felt the moment, and stepped aside and without word Dean stepped forward, and Sam took that final complete step, and fell into his brother’s waiting arms. Dean held Sam firmly against him as they remained standing.

“Sammy,” Dean choked as he held him, “you did it little brother, you did it.” He felt Sam’s trembling body and despite the physical exhaustion of his body he still wrapped his arms around his big brother and hugged him. Sam dropped his head and rested a cheek against his brother’s shoulder. Mel went to get the wheelchair as Sam clung to his brother. Dean felt the cloth of his t-shirt growing wet, and reached up with one hand and cupped Sam’s head comfortingly trying to quell his brother’s tears, as he strengthened his grip around Sam’s body with his other free hand. He fought the hot tears stinging his own eyes.

“Dean, I walk on own.”

“Yes, you did kiddo. I’m proud of you. I knew you could do it.”

Moments later Dean and Mel both aided Sam in sitting back in his wheelchair. “Well, little man,” Mel quipped. “I think after that little marathon of steps you just did we better get you some hydrotherapy before your muscles remind you who the boss is.”

Sam nodded, and smiled a genuine smile that reached his eyes for the first time since he collapsed six months ago. Dean felt as though all the air in the room was vacuumed away when he saw that smile. Sure he’d managed to get a smile or two out of Sam, and although they had been real they never truly reached his eyes, but today he knew Sam felt he had accomplished something, and he had. Dean silently rebuked the doctors at the hospital in his head. He never wanted Sammy to know that they had given him no hope at all, and he never wanted his little brother to know that their father had accepted he was hopeless. He’d protect him from as much as he could.

Three Hours Later

Sam slept peacefully in his bed while Dean sat in a chair near the bay window in his brother’s room reading a magazine. Sam had been exhausted after his PT with Mel and the hydrotherapy had relaxed him, so when he was helped back into his bed he drifted off within ten minutes. Dean glanced over at his brother as he heard the sheets stir as his little brother moved and quickly settled again with a sigh remaining asleep. Dean smiled.

Mel appeared in the door and caught Dean’s attention and motioned him to outside in the corridor. “He’s still wiped out, huh?” Mel questioned.

“Yeah, he’s been out for three hours now.”

“Well, he deserves a nap after what he pulled off today.” He glanced at his watch. “I saw that he’s scheduled for speech therapy today with April at 3:00, so he’s going to have a full day.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “It works out though,” Dean began. “I’m meeting with Dr. Myers today since she had to be out of the center on Friday. I told she didn’t have to come here on a Saturday, but she insisted. She’s been great to Sam and me.”

“Well, I have two more PT patients to see,” Mel started. “I just wanted to check in on him, and see how he was doing after his marathon today.”

“What he did today Mel,” Dean asked. “It’ll get better, right? He’s not going to struggle like that forever.”

“No, he’ll walk Dean. The left leg has some obvious strength and coordination issues, but I’ll add some more PT exercises to help his left catch up with his right. That kid will do an Irish jig out of this place when he leaves.” Mel smiled broadly.

“Thanks Mel.” The older man just simply raised a hand to stop Dean.

“He’s a great kid, Dean. I like to say I go the extra mile for all of my patients, but Sam for some reason, you can’t help, but get attached to him.” Dean gave a knowing smile.

“It’s the eyes,” he offered.

“Huh?” Mel raised an eyebrow.

“He gives you those puppy eyes of his, and you’re wrapped around his little finger. It’s like Kryptonite to me, and I haven’t met a person yet that can resist,” Dean chuckled.

“You have a point,” Mel conceded. “Hey, you better wake him up soon,” Mel suggested. “Lunch will be coming around soon unless you want to take him to the dining room.”

“Nah, he chose a lunch delivery today. He didn’t want to eat in the dining room.”

Mel nodded and shortly he and Dean said their goodbyes and Dean walked quietly over to Sam’s bedside. He looked at his watch and was surprised to see that he and Mel had talked for a half hour. “Sammy?” Dean’s voice was quiet. “Hey, Sleepy head, time to rise and shine.” Sam’s response was to grunt quietly and scrunch his face. Dean reached down and tousled his brother’s hair. “Come on Sammy, open those eyes.”

“No want. Tired.” Sam’s sleep inflected voice responded as he opened his eyes to slits to evaluate his older brother. Dean grinned. He would have sworn that Sam looked like he did when he was six.

“Come on sleeping beauty,” he urged. “Lunch will be here soon, and you still have to work with April today in another couple hours.” Sam opened his eyes fully and frowned.

“No talk. Hate it.” Dean gave his brother a sympathetic look.

“Look kiddo, I know it’s hard, but it’s getting better every therapy session.”

“No understand. Words not right. I know wrong.” And, there it was, solid confirmation that Sam did truly know he was different now.

“Sammy, I can’t begin to get what you’re going through, but I know how hard this is on you,” he offered. “I see it when you do your therapy. And, the words won’t always be wrong. Things will get better. Just stick with it okay?”

“Hate.”

“I thought you liked April,” Dean looked at Sam with curious eyes.

“I do. I not like talk.”

“Look Sammy, I know this isn’t your idea of fun, but you gotta do this speech therapy. I know you don’t like the other stuff either, but it’s helping you. Please, Sam, I know you’re trying so hard, I see it, and I know. But, you got to keep with it.” He could see the stubborn set his younger brother’s jaw. “Don’t you want to get better? Are you happy with the way things are right now? Huh?” He kept his voice soft, but his tone was insistent. Sam shook his head slightly. “Huh? What was that?” Dean countered. “I didn’t hear you.”

“No,” Sam began. “I want … to be … better,” he answered slowly as he struggled to find all the right words. “I feel … dumb.” He dropped his eyes from Dean’s and stared at his hands. Dean wanted so badly to fix everything, but there was no quick fix for this, and ultimately he knew that Sam may plateau in improvements at some point, but he didn’t want to cross that bridge yet, he’d wait.

“Sammy,” his voice soft as he reached out and out his hand on top of his brother’s folded ones. “Look at me,” he encouraged. Sam slowly looked up and met eyes with his big brother. Dean saw the glistening warm eyes of his little brother. “Hey, I want you to hear me little brother. You’re not dumb. And, I don’t want you to think that, and no one here thinks you are either. You hear me?”

Sam offered a slight smile and nodded. “Yes,” came out so quietly that anyone else may have not heard it, but Dean did, and he gave Sam a knowing nod. “I … p… promise … to try.” Sam awarded his brother with his famous lopsided grin.

“I know you will Sammy, I know.”

Later that Afternoon

Dean sat across from Dr. Myers in her office while Sam was doing his speech therapy with April. “I read over Mel’s notes about today’s PT session Dean, and I’m thrilled with Sam’s progress. He has made such huge steps in his recovery. We’ve discussed his speech and other therapies. And, all of the reports from his other therapist are all positive. I know he has some frustration issues over his situation, but all in all he is handling it quite well. But, you should know that you’ve been a big help in his recovery. If Sam didn’t have you, I doubt he would have made the improvements that he has.”

“Thanks, but he’s doing all the work. I’m just around.”

“Don’t sell yourself short Dean. You’re a big support to your brother, and it is very important for a rehab patient to have family support.” Dean nodded.

“Dr. Myers?”

“Yes.”

“Sam’s still making progress, but when do we know if he’s done all the improving he’s going to do?”

“Well, once he’s released from here. I’d like to keep him on an out patient program for a year, and then we should know where we stand. But, also if a particular deficit doesn’t continue to improve while here then it may be feasible to accept he may have reached a plateau with it, but right now it’s too early to predict. I don’t want to pigeon hole Sam.”

“Yeah, me either.” Dean responded quickly. “Um, what about the future?” He started hesitantly. “I mean, I know it’s probably too early to say, but what about his future? I mean work or school … will he be able to?”

“I have every hope that Sam will reclaim his life to the best of his abilities Dean. But, it is a hope right now, and until he has finished his rehab here, and he’s been discharged to our out patient program for extended rehab I can’t say what he’ll reclaim.”

“I know. Sorry, I mentioned it.”

“No, I understand why you want to know, I do. He’s on track Dean.” She assured. “Based on the diagnosis he received from the hospital he’s all ready blown their theories of his recovery potential out of the water. I believe in Sam and his determination to recover.” Dr. Myers was about to say something when her beeper went off. “Sorry, let me just take a look at this…”

“Sure.” Dean replied. He watched her casually pull her beeper off her jacket pocket and look at it reading the short text message. He watched her face crease with concern.

“It’s a 911 page,” she said standing. “It’s Sam.” Dean’s eyes widened in sheer panic at the doctor’s words, and he followed Dr. Myers urgent steps out the door toward the rehab wing that Sam’s room was located.

Ivy Ridge, Rehab Wing 2 East

Dr. Myer’s entered the wing with deliberate strides. Dean followed closely next to her. She spotted the red blinking light above Sam’s door as soon as his room was in view. “Dean,” she stopped for a moment. “I think it would be best if you wait here in the sitting area. I’ll come to get you when I know what’s happening.”

“I have to see him,” his voice insistent.

“Please, just wait.” He nodded curtly and remained where he was. Dr. Myers voice was forceful, and she hadn’t meant to sound abrupt, but she had to get to her patient. She noticed that the red crash cart that usually sits stationed on the wall near the nurse’s station was gone. Her face looked grim. She walked into Sam’s room to a flurry of activity. Dr. Robert’s, a third year resident was talking to a nurse and April.

“Look just load him up on the Phenabarb, now!” Sam was conscious, and as soon as Dr, Myer’s saw what was happening, she knew what she was seeing.

“Dr. Robert’s, let me evaluate him,” she spoke up as soon as she was fully in the room. “He’s clearly having a Jacksonian seizure.” She looked Sam in the eyes. “Sam, it’s okay, all right. We’re going to stop that for you. You need to calm down.” Sam’s face was filled with fear as his left hand and arm jerked spastically and wouldn’t stop. He nodded. He was tense and the more his anxiety grew the worse the seizure in his arm was becoming. “It’s okay, Sam,” she comforted. “Please, just relax.” Dr. Myer’s adjusted the dose of Phenabarb and injected Sam. And, within moments she could see the seizure slow and the jerking movements of Sam’s hand and arm quiet and completely cease.

Dean paced liked a caged animal just past the nurses station. His mind running every horrible, nightmarish scenario it could conjure up concerning Sammy.

“April, when did this start?”

“During our speech therapy,” she began. “The seizure came on without warning.” Dr. Myer’s turned her eyes to Sam.

“Feeling better?”

“What wrong … with me?”

“Well, I’m going to want to confirm with a scan of your brain, but I’m almost positive Sam that you just had what we call a Jacksonian seizure. It targets a limb, or half of the body sometimes. And, that’s why your hand and arm were jerking. It’s typically caused by a lesion on the brain, kind of like a scar, and that’s why I want a scan of your brain. Now, don’t worry, okay. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for you to have some damage in the area of your brain that was affected by the large bleed you experienced with your head injury. We’ll put you on some medication, an anti-convulsive, to help prevent any more break through seizures, until I see your scan.”

“No want pills.”

“Let’s play it by ear Sam, okay? Perhaps, we can try it without meds. A seizure like the one you had can and often does subside on its own, but sometimes they can get very intense, and can lead to the entire half of your body beginning to seize. I’d like to avoid that. So we have a deal? You take the meds and we play it by ear,” she suggested. Sam’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, but he nodded. “Good. You’re a trooper. And, right now, the medicine I just gave will be enough for now, so pills yet, okay?” Sam met her eyes, and she knew he understood. She looked at the resident Dr. Robert’s, “Could you call the MRI and tell them to set up for a scan for the patient Sam Winchester?”

“Sure Dr. Myer’s.” He paused a moment and she approached while April and the nurse fussed over Sam. “You adjusted the dose I was going to administer … was I wrong?”

“No, it wouldn’t have harmed him, but that dose would have had him too groggy to respond to me, and I believe in the less is more theory with drugs. I give enough to have a palliative effect.”

Dean saw activity as a male doctor walked out and proceeded to pick up a phone on the wall. And, Dean’s heart slammed against his sternum as he watched a nurse exit rolling a red cart, he knew far too well, was a crash cart. He couldn’t take it anymore and burst into his brother’s room. His eyes met his brother’s and Sam looked afraid. “Sammy?” Dean’s voice was anxious as he approached his brother. He reached out and cupped a cheek with a comforting hand. “You okay?” Sam’s eyes filled with fear and anguish, as Dean watched silent tears well up and cascade down his little brother’s face. He stroked the tears away gently with his thumbs. “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on? Is my brother all right?” His eyes were intense as he looked from April to Dr. Myers waiting for someone to answer him.

“He’s okay Dean,” Dr. Myer’s assured. “I’m taking him for a scan in a few minutes.”

“Scan? Why? What’s wrong?” Dean’s eyes looked panicked.

“As I explained to Sam I think what he was experiencing when I came into his room was a form of a simple seizure called a Jacksonian seizure.”

“Seizure!” Dean’s voice was raised in alarm as he turned his eyes to his little brother.

“Dean … it okay,” Sam tried to give his brother some sort of relief.

“Sammy,” Dean’s voice was filled with relief at hearing his brother’s voice. “Look,” he said turning his attention back to the doctor. “And, since when is a seizure ever simple?” Dean voice was firm. Dr. Myer’s smiled.

“I know the word seizure sounds scary, but this form usually happens to one side of the body. This form of seizure most commonly occurs either in the face, arms and hands or some combination. But sometimes it can move from an appendage like an arm to increase an effect the entire half of the body. Sam’s seizure was localized to his left hand and arm.”

“What causes it?”

“As I told Sam I’ll have to see his new scan to be sure, but I’m fairly certain I’ll find that he’s most likely developed a small lesion, like scar tissue in the area of his brain that was most heavily affected by the large hematoma he developed with his head injury.”

“Is he in danger?”

“No,” she assured. “I gave him some medication that stopped the seizure, and he may require maintenance medication in the form of an anti-convulsive, but Sam isn’t too keen on the idea. So, we’re going to play it by ear and see if he experiences any more break through seizure activity, and if he does we’ll try to let it run its course without meds, but depending on the severity or if it progresses to body involvement beyond the hand and arm … I’ll have to intervene with medication.” Dean nodded.

An attendant came to help Sam into a wheelchair and take him to the MRI. “Okay, Sam,” Dr. Myer’s patted his shoulder. “Now, let’s go take a look at that head of yours.” Sam turned nervous eyes to Dean.

“Hey, Sammy, no worries,” he assured. “I’m walking down with you and I’ll be waiting for you when the scan is done, okay?” He saw his little brother relax. Dean took a moment to look at April. “Thanks for staying with him and helping.” April smiled.

“Don’t thank me,” she spoke softly. “Dean,” she whispered as Sam’s wheelchair turned to go. Dean stopped.

“I’ll be right there Sammy. I’ll catch up before you’re even all the way down the hall.”

“ ‘kay.” Sam answered quietly.

“Dean, I was here for the whole thing,” April confirmed. “Look, I know you’re worried, but it scared him more than anything and that made him panic. I’m familiar with this kind of seizure, so try not to worry too much. I know easier said than done, but I just wanted you to know that at no time was his life at risk, okay? I think it happened so fast and the lack of even more control in his life just sent him into panic mode.”

“Thanks,” Dean answered. “I better go.”

“Sure. Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, thanks. You too.” And, Dean scooted out of the room and as promised caught up before they were all the way down the hall.

Two Hours Later, Dr. Myer’s Office

“So, this lesion you found, it’s like a scar you say?” Dean leaned forward.

“Sort of, but I’m certain it’s what caused the Jacksonian episode. It’s benign in nature. I mean it’s not life threatening to him. It’s actually relatively small which is a good thing.”

“What about his recovery? Does this set him back?”

“No, he’ll be able to proceed normally. Now, I have written orders that he’s resting today, so no more therapies today. In fact, I gave him a mild sedative before the MRI, so he should be able to rest peacefully for a good chunk of the day.”

“Could it get worse?”

“Well, I’m optimistic that this will only be a transient problem for Sam, but with head injury cases such as his there is always the possibility that he could develop other seizure activity that will manifest itself in other forms. But, I don’t want to cross that bridge unless we have to.”

“What are you saying? He could develop something else down the line, something that could hurt him?”

“There is a chance with head injuries such as his producing seizure activity on a petit mal or grand mal level. I’m hoping for neither. And, so far his scans don’t lead me to believe that he is currently at risk of either.”

“Not currently … but he could?”

“Unfortunately, he could, I can’t rule the possibility out,” Dr. Myer’s tried to assure the worried young man, but he had always wanted the straight facts when it came to his younger sibling, so she was being straight. “As his brain recoups from the injury he could develop other lesions, one’s that may start bigger problems, but right now, I see no evidence of that. It’s a waiting game Dean,” she started. “As he continues to recover through rehab there could be other concerns that arise. So, we’ll just wait it out, and see what happens.”

“These seizures you mentioned that you don’t want to see him get, ah … the petit one, and the grand something … are they bad?”

“Well, the petit mal isn’t debilitating, and rarely life threatening unless the person is hurt while the seizure is occurring because of where they are when it occurs. A petit mal,” she began to explain knowing Dean would want to hear it. “It’s a small attack or seizure if you will, where the patient has a brief lapse of contact with their surroundings, after which they resume usual activities. He’d just sort of blank out. Sometimes this kind of seizure could be accompanied by a twitching hand or even drooling. Now, a grand mal, is much more severe, and if not controlled early could result in respiratory arrest or even cardiac arrest, also further brain damage could result. It basically equates to a generalized convulsion. Most lose consciousness and can be slightly altered for a short period of time when they awake. It’s the one seizure I don’t want to see Sam develop. Now, there are some instances where a grand mal could be triggered that does not necessarily dictate that he will suffer from them forever, but at any rate, it’s a seizure I would like to avoid.”

Dean sat and digested the information. He wanted to get back to Sam, but he had a question that had been burning a hold in his head for a few weeks now. “Dr. Myer’s,” he began.

“Yes?”

“Has my father called about Sam recently?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“How many times has he called?”

“Well, he can only get information about Sam from either you or myself,” she started. “And, I’ve only spoken to him twice. Once, before Sam’s transfer to the center, and he called the Monday following his transfer to see if he had been settled, and was being taken care of. I haven’t spoken to him again.”

Dean nodded. “Thanks.” He stood up. “I think I’d like to get back to Sam. I know he’s probably sleeping, but …”

“I know. Say no more,” she smiled. “Now, remember if you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask or have me beeped, all right?” Dean nodded. “And, the staff knows to have me paged if Sam should have another episode. I only live a ten minute commute from here, so should I be needed while I’m not here … don’t worry, okay?”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Sam’s Room

Dean grabbed a chair and pulled it over to his brother’s bedside. “Hey Sammy,” he whispered quietly to his sleeping little brother. “You scared the shit out of me,” his voice hushed. He reached up and pushed back Sam’s unruly bangs. “I don’t know what …” his voice caught and he felt the hot sting of tears. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you kiddo. I can’t …” Sam stirred and slowly opened his sleep heavy eyes. Dean met his brother’s gaze and smiled warmly. “Hey, little brother,” his voice was gentle. “How ya feelin’?”

“M’ kay,” Sam’s sleep inflected voice answered. Sam opened his eyes a little more fully and studied Dean. “You okay?”

“I’m good, Sammy. You don’t have to worry about me, all right?” Sam frowned.

“You worry … about … me. Why I … can’t worry?”

“Because you keep forgetting who the big brother is here,” Dean answered with a wide smile. “It’s my job to worry about you.”

“Not care what you say,” Sam’s face determined. “I worry ‘bout you, too. My job.” Dean chuckled.

“Okay,” he conceded. “But, I promise, I’m all right.” Sam nodded.

“Not like jerk … ing.” Dean looked at Sam for a second trying to work out the sentence in his head, and then it hit him that his brother couldn’t verbalize the word ‘seizure.’

“You mean the seizure?”

“Yes. Not like.”

“Were you in pain?” Dean eyes were intense.

“Not really hurt. Mus…” Sam’s brow creased as he couldn’t form the word he wanted to say.

“Muscles?” Dean suggested, and Sam smiled. “So, it doesn’t hurt, but what about your muscles?”

“Tight when happen. Not hurt … but, not like.”

“So, you’re uncomfortable, but not in pain.”

“No pain.” Dean felt a little relief at that, but it was cold comfort.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“What … happened?”

“Huh?” Dean looked confused. “You had a seizure Sam, remember?”

“Not jerk …ing. Head … what … happened to me?” This was the moment Dean had dreaded because part of him wondered what Sam did remember, and whether or not his little brother recalled any of the events of the hospital and what his father and he had said to him before his collapse.

“What’s the last memory you have?”

“Cabin. Demon. Then car. Going to hos…hos…” his eyes closed in frustration.

“Hospital.” Dean supplied. Sam opened his eyes and nodded. “You remember you were driving Dad and me to the hospital?” Sam nodded. “Then what?”

“Nothing,” he spoke slowly making sure the word came out correctly.

“We had a wreck,” Dean offered. “A semi truck hit the Impala. Plowed into us pretty good. You hurt your head. They said you had a severe concussion. You signed out AMA from what my nurse told me. You basically told her to mind her own business, and then the next thing I know … when you started to leave my room you grabbed the door …” Dean was assaulted by the memories of that moment. He blinked his eyes rapidly as if that would rid his mind of the images. “You collapsed and then the next thing I know you’re taken into emergency surgery because you had a complication. You were bleeding in your brain and it was swelling. You were in a coma for a while, and then I moved you here.”

“D… dad?” Sam looked at Dean.

“He was at the hospital while you were in the coma. But, you know dad he can’t stay anywhere too long,” Dean felt like he had to keep up the lie. He wouldn’t tell Sam the truth about their father and that he had given up on him, and left. He stayed until you came to the rehab center.”

“He hurt … in car?”

“You know dad Sammy,” Dean assured. “He got banged up, but he bounced back. He was perfectly fine when he headed back out on the road.” Dean smiled at his brother and decided to change the subject. “So,” he began. “What’s your next memory after everything is a blank?”

“You,” Sam supplied softly.

“Me?”

“You fix sheet and smile.” Dean remembered that day he had come in to visit Sam still flying high over the previous weeks improvement when Sam had begun to notice and engage his environment. He recalled tucking the sheet and blanket around Sam and talking to him about nothing special, and then looking down and seeing his brother looking at him, actually seeing him for the first time in months. Dean felt his throat tighten, and he turned his face abruptly. “Dean? What wrong?” Dean didn’t know whether to feel happy or upset that Sam had no recollection of the events right before his collapse. Part of him had hoped Sam wouldn’t remember the harsh words he hadn’t meant, and the other part of him wished he did remember because he felt he shouldn’t get off so easy.

“Nothings wrong, Sammy. Nothing at all,” Dean no longer holding pretenses, leaned forward and grabbed Sam and pulled him against himself. “Everything is fine Sammy.” Sam lifted his arms and returned the impromptu hug.

“Ch … fick,” was all Sam could verbalize and the pronunciation was off, but Dean knew what he was saying.

“Is not,” Dean chided. “That was definitely not a chick flick moment.” He sat trying to put on his most serious face. Sam snorted a laugh. Dean broke into a smile. “I don’t know what it was,” he offered. “But, it was most definitely not a chick flick moment.” Sam just continued to grin like a Cheshire cat. Dean rolled his eyes, “bitch.”

“J… Jerk.”

Dean stayed until Sam was asleep. He had wanted to stay with Sam tonight especially after the days turn of events, but when he mentioned to Sam that he wanted to stay. His brother had been adamant that he go to his place and get some sleep. Dean walked out into the parking lot, and as he drove out onto the main road. He drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly his fear for his brother not disappearing, but lessening a small fraction. Today had scared him more than he wanted to admit. And, the thought of losing Sammy after everything that has happened over the last few months made his stomach clench. He fought the feeling off, he’d be strong for his brother, and he’d push the overwhelming and paralyzing thoughts of losing Sammy, losing his light, out of his mind, at least for tonight he’d try, if not for his sake, for his little brother’s.

Four Months Later

Burlington, Colorado, Red Horse Motel

John Winchester sat at the table in his motel room finishing the cleaning of his final weapon. He had met up with six other fellow hunters to clear out a werewolf infestation outside the city. The hunt had managed to keep his mind off his boys, but now that he was alone in his motel room his mind filled with thoughts of them once again. He leaned forward and rested his face in his hands for a long moment. He sighed and leaned away from his hands and stared at his cell phone. There had been so many times he wanted to call Dean and just hear his son’s voice and see how he was doing. He wanted to know about Sammy, but hearing what he believed he would, he just couldn’t bring himself to call the rehab center to say either Sam had made no more improvements in their care or had been discharged to a long term care facility. Sam had been discharged from the hospital to the rehab center seven months ago, and John’s mind reeled with the thoughts of what Dean has been dealing with while he went on hunts and stayed away unable to face Sam’s situation.

And, he was certain that by now Dean would have had to find a state facility to take Sam, and part of him wanted desperately to know because he knew Dean would be devastated after finally admitting that Sammy was lost to them. He got up and turned on the clock radio in his room hoping that music would distract his mind for a bit. He clicked it on and a quiet ballad emitted from the speakers, and normally he would have changed the station to his preferred country music, but there was something that caught his ear, and he listened as the song played. His ears picking out certain parts and in some way he felt as if it were speaking to him, and maybe it was.

“…From this dark cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear. You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie … so tired of the straight line, and everywhere that you turn. There’s vulture’s and thieves at your back and a storm keeps on twisting. You keep on building the lie that you make up for all that you lack. It don’t make no difference escaping one last time. It’s easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh this glory and sadness that brings me to my knees … You’re in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort there …”

The song ended and John reached a hand up and scrubbed away the wetness on his face. “Mary, what have I done? I left our boys alone. I left Dean to deal with Sammy on his own. I have failed you and our children.” He voice broke with emotion as he spoke to an empty room. “I just couldn’t see our baby boy like that Mary, our Sammy. And, Dean, he was so strong. He never wavered, but I did. I wasn’t strong enough for my children.” He sat heavily down on the bed next to the clock radio for a moment, and then just as quickly he rose up and began packing up his things. And, as he finished with the last item he scanned the room to make sure he had everything. “I’m going to do right by our boys Mary. I know I’ll be the last person Dean wants to see, but I have to make things right again between the two of us, and I can’t let Sammy go, I won’t.” He opened the door to leave, “I’m coming boys,” he said under his breath as he walked toward his truck.

He still couldn’t bring himself to call the rehab to see if Sam had been transferred, but he’d call Larry and discretely ask if Dean had taken a job at the shop. He knew Larry would keep the phone call private if he asked him to. After all, the man knew that he had had a bit of a falling out with his eldest child. He pulled the truck into traffic and headed for the interstate. He was headed back to Jefferson City, Missouri and his boys.

Meanwhile, Ivy Ridge

“Man, Sammy,” Dean said as he walked out of his brother’s bathroom drying his hands with a paper towel. “I can’t believe Dr. Myer’s said she’s going to release you in two weeks.”

“It’s been seven months Dean. W…w… what did you think,” Sam started. “I was gonna live here or s … s… some … thing?”

“Nah, you know what I mean Sammy,” Dean countered. “It’s just great that you’re finally getting paroled,” he joked. Sam chuckled.

“Well, it h…h…has…” he let out a frustrated sigh, and tried again. Dean waited with a warm smile. “it has… hasn’t been like jail.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t even like to think about where’d we be if we hadn’t ended up here.” Dean paused. “And, hey, I’m looking at some places today, now I may not find the perfect place today, but I’m looking. My place is way too small, and I can’t have you come home to an apartment the size of a closet. I promise I’ll have something by the time you’re sprung, okay?”

“You d…d…don’t have t…t…to.” Sam replied. “Small is okay.”

“Nah, Sammy. Trust me it’s too small. We’ll kill each other in there. Don’t worry okay. I’m ready for a bigger place.” Sam just nodded. He knew when it was pointless to try to get his brother to reconsider a decision once it had been made.

Sam looked at his brother. Dean had changed a lot over the last few months. His hair had grown out a little more; he apparently no longer felt the need to keep a clean almost military cut. His attitude was still completely Dean Winchester, the broad smile, the quick wit, but he had grown older, and Sam knew the added responsibility of his rehabilitation had pushed the older sibling into full adulthood. Sam felt as though Dean had given up too much for him, but he tried to work as hard as he could at his rehab because he could see how happy it made his brother. But, in truth he wanted to fight to regain his life, too. He still became frustrated at the language problems, but they were vastly improved from four months ago, and sometimes the words flowed with no difficulty. However, he hated that when he still got upset that his words would resort to broken sentences. He swung his legs over the side of his bed.

“You need help?” Dean moved quickly to his little brother’s side.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was ever patient with his coddling brother. “I’ve been doing this on my own now for two months. I have PT with Mel, and I walk to the gym.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean relented. “It’s just…”

“I know I still stum…ble now and again, but I can do it.”

“I know.” Dean replied. His eyes diverted from his brother’s. Sam smiled at his big brother.

“You wanna walk with me to the gym?” Sam suggested. “I know you’ve got about ten minutes to kill before you meet April for lunch in the dining hall,” Sam winked at Dean.

“Hey,” Dean chided at the wink. “You’re the one that’s been pushing us to get together more often,” Dean countered.

“You s..s..spend too much t…t…time with me,” Sam inserted. “I want y…y…you to have f…f…fun.”

Dean turned serious eyes to his brother’s. He put a stopping hand on his brother’s shoulder to prevent him from rising from his bed. “Hold up there cowboy,” Dean’s face serious. “You’ve been in rehab for seven months, Sammy. You’re recovering from a head injury that nearly killed you. The time I have spent with you is because we’re brothers, and you’re my family.” Dean studied Sam’s face. “I don’t want that head of yours to start getting any ideas…” Sam looked at Dean his eyes betraying him. “Yeah, you know what I mean little brother. No guilt trips, you got it? You’d do the same for me and you know it.”

“B..but…” Sam began and Dean cut him off with a raised hand.

“No, don’t but me,” Dean replied. “You would do the same. And, as far as fun goes … I have fun, but things change you know …”

“You take care me. No life. I hate that. M …m…. my fault.”

“Sammy,” Dean knew his brother was upset if his speech was beginning to spiral down into fractured sentences.

“No,” Sam forced himself off the bed, and Dean stepped back. “You work all the t…t…time, and t…t…take care of me. Not fair t …t…to you.”

“Sammy, look man, I haven’t done anything I haven’t wanted to okay? You’re not some kind of burden or obligation if that’s what you’re getting at. I have a life, and I do get together with April once and a while, but look I got my priorities little brother, and right now that’s seeing you get out of this place and into your out patient rehab. And, yeah, I work; Sammy, but I actually like it.” He grinned at his brother. “Never thought you’d hear me say that did ya?”

Sam relented and a lopsided grin broke across his face. “You’re really okay?” Sam asked his warm eyes taking on the lethal puppy look.

“Yeah, kiddo. I’m good. Now, I don’t want to have this conversation again, all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Sam started to leave his room to head to the rehab gym to meet Mel. “Hey, don’t forget this.” Dean offered as he handed Sam the three-prong cane they made him use since he still stumbled with his left side occasionally.

“I hate that thing.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not going to have to deal with it much longer. And, it’s better than falling on your face.”

“I d…d…don’t even use it m…m…most of the time.”

“Just humor me Sammy.”

“Fine.”

Dean and Sam walked together to the gym, and the older sibling saw his brother inside. “Hey Mel,” Dean quipped.

“Hey yourself. Hi Sam!”

“Hi Mel.” Sam smiled. He glanced at the large clock on the wall and turned to his brother. “You bet … better go,” he encouraged. “A…Ap…April will be waiting.” Dean rolled his eyes. Mel chuckled and stepped up to Dean lowering his voice.

“A little love in the afternoon, huh?” He said with a wily look in his eye.

“Damn, Mel,” Dean feigned shock. “You’re as bad as my geek brother. Give a guy a break. Blame this little get together on the match maker there,” Dean said flipping a hand in his brother’s direction. Sam just grinned, and ducked his head.

“Well, never keep a lady waiting,” Mel countered with a grin. Dean made a grand motion of rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“I’m outta here,” he replied. “Hey, Mel, you work him hard today.”

“Not fair,” Sam chided.

“Boys, boys,” Mel reprimanded.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said heading for the door. “I’ll see ya later Sammy.”

“B…b… bye, Dean.”

Interstate 70, a Gas Station Somewhere in Kansas

It was a Friday afternoon, and John knew Larry would be at the shop. John finished pumping his gas and paying for it. He twisted the top off a bottled water and took a long drink. He pulled his cell out and dialed the number to the shop.

“Jefferson City Auto Repair,” John recognized the voice.

“Hi Larry,” he paused for a moment, “its John Winchester.”

“Hey, John,” the man replied. “Long time no hear. How are ya?”

“Fine. I’m on my way back to Missouri actually. I should be there by tomorrow late afternoon. I was wondering if my son Dean ever took the job at the shop?”

“Sure did. That boy of yours is a good worker, and he knows his way around an engine. Thanks for suggesting him.”

“I’m glad it worked out. So, is he there now?”

“Dean? Nah, he works Monday through Thursday for me and takes Friday and the weekends off.”

“Oh, yeah, do you know where he’s living these days. I tried to find a number for him, but…”

“No, he uses his cell phone. But, yeah, he’s got himself a place up in Elston; it’s about ten minutes or so outside town.”

“Has he…” John paused. It felt strange to have to question someone else about the well-being of his own child. “Has he been okay? I mean, we haven’t spoken.”

“Well, that kid of yours keeps pretty busy between working for me, and spending time with his brother.”

“He spends a lot of time with his younger brother.”

“Oh sure, every chance he gets which is everyday,” Larry chuckled. “And, especially since your youngest starting moving around.” John’s chest tightened.

“Moving around? You mean he’s making movements?” There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Man, John, you really don’t know? You know it’s none of my business, but whatever beef you and your eldest have with one another should be water under the bridge. Life’s too short, man.”

“I know,” John agreed. “What about my youngest? What about Sam? You said he was moving? I mean, the doctors said, he wouldn’t recover enough to do even that …”

“Well, Dean sings that kid’s praises everyday. I guess he’s a regular miracle or something. I don’t mean he’s moving, moving,” Larry interjected. “I mean that son of yours is walking and talking.” John was glad he hadn’t pulled back onto the road yet; otherwise, he knew he would have swerved off the interstate and probably wrapped himself around a tree.

“Oh, God, he’s talking?” John voice was ragged. “How long?”

“I guess about six months now. He started coming out of his coma around the third week he was in that fancy rehab. And, if memory serves, I think around the second month he was in there they started getting him to try and speak. But, now I guess he’s a regular chatterbox according to Dean.”

“And he’s walking?”

“Well, now he is,” Larry answered. “Wasn’t easy though from what Dean told me when I asked. But, he’s up and around now. Dean’s been pretty excited the last few days ever since that doctor taking care of your youngest plans on releasing him in another couple weeks, I think.” John felt his world tilt.

“Larry would you happen to have Dean’s address?”

“Sure,” he answered. “And, it’s a good thing you’re coming when you are because I know that boy of yours is looking at new places to live, so when Sam is released they have a place big enough.”

“So, Dean’s staying in Missouri?”

“Yeah, he said Sam still needs a year of out patient therapy, so he’s not moving. You want that address?”

“Yeah, I got a pen,” John opened his small pad of paper.”

“Okay, it’s 1020 Sparrow Dr. Apt 10B Elston. You go that?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“That place is only about five minutes from the rehab center, so if you get lost just go to the center. I’m positive that’s where Dean is most likely, and you can see your youngest.”

“Yeah, well, I think I’m going to be on egg shells Larry. You know proceed with caution.”

“I heard that. Hey, do me a favor and don’t tell Dean I gave you his address. He really is a good kid, and I hate to lose him here at the shop.”

“I’ll keep it between us Larry.”

“Thanks. Hey, you going to be needin’ another job?”

“Probably, but I need to clear it with Dean first. I don’t want to force myself in his face everyday if he’s not up for it.”

“Yeah, I hear ya. Well, if worse comes to worse, I got a brother who manages his own garage out over by the airport. He’d take you on, so let me know.”

“Thanks Larry.” John finished his conversation with the man, and closed snapped his cell closed. He sat there staring straight ahead his mind racing from what he had heard. He had another call to make, and this number was programmed into the phone, although he’d only used it twice. It rang once.

“Good Afternoon, Ivy Ridge Rehab Care Center this is Carrie, how may I direct your call?”

“Dr. Rose Myers, please.”

“And, whom should I say is calling?”

“John Winchester. My son Sam Winchester is a patient of hers.”

“Thank you, please hold.”

“Mr. Winchester?” Dr. Myer’s spoke.

“Dr. Myers, I wanted to check on my son Sam,” he decided to play dumb, and not tell the doctor what he had just learned from Larry.

“It’s been a while Mr. Winchester. I’m glad you called. Sam’s doing wonderfully. I plan to release him in a couple weeks.”

“Release him? He’s functioning?” He was fishing for information, but still didn’t want to tell the doctor he already knew. “I mean how is that possible? The doctors at the hospital said he was severely brain damaged and had no chance of a meaningful recovery. They wanted me to put him in long term care …”

“I know all of this must be quite a shock Mr. Winchester, but I assure you that Sam is improving by leaps and bounds. I couldn’t be more pleased with his progress. He’s a hard worker toward his recovery. I’m well aware of what the doctor’s diagnosed and sometimes even experts can get it wrong. I was never sure what level of recovery Sam could achieve, but I was always confident we could give him some quality of life, although I was never certain of the extent until Sam came out of his coma like state. But, one thing I was absolutely certain of was that a long term care facility was not the place for him, and that is why I accepted his case.”

“He’s walking and talking?”

“Yes, he has daily therapies that range from physical therapy, speech, and occupational therapy. He works very hard.”

“Sam was always a determined kid when he put his mind to it. How’s his speech?”

“Well, it has been a tough road, but he can carry on a conversation now. He still experiences some speech deficits, but he continues to improve.”

“Is my other son Dean with him?”

“Well, he was earlier, but I believe I saw him walking through the lobby on his way out about an hour ago. I know he’s being very proactive about finding a place big enough for himself and Sam to live.”

“Is Sam okay, though? I mean, I know you said he’s walking, but…”

“He gets around better every day. There are still some issues that he’s trying to overcome. The left side of his body was more heavily affected by his brain injury, but he is making great strides to work through those issues. He walks to the gym every day for his PT rather than being taken by wheelchair. He’s a trooper.”

“No other problems?”

“Well, a handful of months ago, he developed a type of seizure disorder called a Jacksonian seizure…”

“Seizure disorder!” John barked. Dr. Myer’s voice softened.

“Mr. Winchester, your son Dean had the same reaction back when it first started, but I assured him then and I will you that this is not life threatening.” Dr. Myer’s went on to explain about the small lesion on Sam’s brain, and the jerking of his left arm and hand, and she told him about future potential for other seizures. “And, it has been a transient problem, and so far we haven’t had to start him on anti-convulsive meds. The seizure’s have been no longer than 2 to 3 minutes, and begin to slow on their own, and are usually gone in under 5 minutes.”

“Why isn’t he on meds to prevent them all together?”

“Sam didn’t want to be unless the seizures advanced beyond the one limb. He rides them out. And, so far, I see no reason to start him on the meds unless the situation advances beyond his arm and hand.”

“You mentioned other seizures … he hasn’t had any has he?”

“Beyond the Jacksonian ones, no he hasn’t.”

“How frequent are the ones he’s having?”

“Well, as I mentioned they are transient, but he has had about thirty separate episodes over the last few months.”

“Thirty!”

“Mr. Winchester, I know it seems like a lot, but considering the nature of the seizures it isn’t unheard of, and in fact I have had patients suffer much more severe forms of Jacksonian seizures and much more frequently than Sam. He’s doing okay.”

“Thank you for taking care of him Dr. Myer’s your facility has done so much for my son.”

“He’s the one that has put forth the effort and Dean has been an excellent support system, as well. And, he’s even excited about his occupational placement with the local library in Jefferson City.”

“What? You mean he has a job?”

“Well, of sorts,” Dr. Myers responded. “His social worker found him an occupational placement as a library helper three days a week and he’ll be paid. Plus, it gets him out in real world situations. He’ll be in out patient rehab for at least a year, and then he’ll be re-evaluated at the end of the year by myself, and his therapists will determine if he needs further treatment at that point.”

“Does my son Dean know all of this?”

“Of course, he’s been in the decision process from the beginning.” John sort of felt slapped by those words, but it was his own fault he hadn’t been here for his boys. “The occupational placement was something Sam was excited about, but also, it allows Dean to continue working without leaving Sam alone at home. His library placement is Monday through Wednesday, and then he’ll have his out patient rehab on Thursdays and Fridays. Sam will be with basically all day during his rehab days.”

John spoke with Dr. Myers a bit longer, and then hung up. He had been on the road for a while now having pulled out of the gas station after rebounding from the enlightening conversation he had had with Larry. His mind was still having problems accepting the news about Sam. He had been so sure the doctors were right about Sam, and although he had started back to Missouri intent on helping his boys and had all ready accepted in his mind Sam was in the same state he’d left him. He had decided he was done running and it was time to be a father. But, now he had been given a gift, and Sammy was walking and talking, and not lost. He still had both his sons.

Later that day, Ivy Ridge

Dean walked into the center with some brochures in hand of some places he had looked at today in Jefferson City. He had considered his own complex, but there weren’t any larger apartments available, so he had to branch out, and living in the city would be better for him because of the shop, and Sam’s placement at the library. He still wasn’t sure about the apartments he had looked at. It wasn’t that they weren’t nice, but he wanted more for Sam, a real home.

Dean rounded the corner into Sam’s rehab wing glancing at his watch. He knew his brother would be done with his rehabs for the day by now, and would be in his room. He walked into Sam’s room, and saw his brother sitting on the side if his bed with his back to the door. He was about to say hi when he noticed Sam holding his left arm loosely. And, then he saw the spasm happening in his hand and his arm jerking. He had seen it many times over the past handful of months, but it still bothered him. He walked around his brother’s bed, “Hey, Sammy,” his voice soft. But, when Sam looked up into his brother’s eyes there were tears running down his cheeks. “Hey, hey,” Dean reached out. “What’s wrong, Sammy? This is old hat,” he tried to calm him with an attempt at light humor. Sam shook his head.

“Won’t stop,” Sam’s voice was a mix of anger and fear.

“What do you mean? You know they take about five minutes Sammy, it’ll pass. It just seems like it goes on forever.”

“No, too long.” Sam pleaded. “Over t… t… ten minutes.”

“Okay, Sammy,” Dean soothed. “I’m going to go get someone. It’s going to be all right.” He was fighting the panic rising in his chest. He hated seeing Sam distressed. He walked out into the hall, and saw Kyle, Sam’s evening care person. “Hey Kyle,” he said walking with purpose.

“Hi Dean …” he stopped his greeting short looking at Dean’s face. “Something wrong?”

“Could you page Dr. Myers? Sam’s having one of his seizures, but it’s not stopping.”

“Sure,” he said all ready activating the paging system to notify Dr. Myers. “Just try to have him relax,” Kyle encouraged. “You know how much stronger the spasms get when he’s upset.” Dean nodded. “You need me in there?” Dean shook his head. “All right, Dr. Myers should be here in a minute.”

“Thanks.”

Dean walked back into the room, and Sam’s agitation had only grown while he was out of the room, and the jerking had become more violent, and he could see Sam trying with difficulty to hold the jerking appendage. “Sammy, stop fighting it,” he encouraged softly. “Dr. Myers will be here in a minute.”

“Why not stop?” His brother’s broken response was only another indicator to Dean proving how upset Sam was becoming.

“Sammy, you know it gets worse when you’re upset, okay? So, just calm down.”

Dr. Myers came into the room, “Hi Sam, I hear you’re having a little longer than normal seizure today.” She could see the flushed cheeks and hint of perspiration on the young man’s face. “Hey, I thought we talked about this Sam … you weren’t going to try fighting them. You can’t. You’ve been doing really well with letting them come, and then they’re done.”

“I try. But not stop.” She cast a glance at Dean, and he nodded. She knew Sam’s broken speech was showing how upset he was. Kyle came into the room with a syringe.

“Here’s the Dilantin injection, Dr. Myers.”

“Thanks Kyle.” She checked the syringe for the accurate amount, and pushed out some to insure there were no air bubbles. “Sam, because we got rid of your IV port I’m going to need to tie your arm off and inject it directly into a vein, okay?” Sam nodded. He bit his bottom lip, as she quickly tied the rubber tourniquet on his upper arm and patted for a vein on his non-shaking arm. Dean watched her swab the skin over the protruding vein, and slide the needle into his brother’s arm. He watched will curiosity as she drew back a bit of blood into the syringe and then injected the drug. “There you go. Now, this doesn’t work as quickly as the drug we used the last time, but this shouldn’t make you groggy.”

And, over the next couple minutes the jerking calmed to an occasional spasm of his hand, and then it was over.

“Thank you,” Sam finally spoke. Dr. Myers smiled.

“It’s okay Sam. That one was a little longer than the others, huh?”

“A lot.”

“Sam we talked about how if they started to increase in length we’d discuss going on meds.” Sam frowned. “Sam, it would be one pill, once a day, and if we’re very lucky it may prevent any further break through seizures. You might not have to deal with this anymore or at least on a limited basis.” Sam still wasn’t sure.

“Can we think about it Dr. Myers?” Dean spoke up when Sam remained quiet.

“Sure.” Dr. Myers decided she wouldn’t mention the fact that the boy’s father had called. She’d just wait to see if Dean ever asked. But, right now wouldn’t be a good time anyway, so she let it go.

The room emptied out leaving only Dean and Sam. “You get your shower all ready?” Dean decided to change the subject. Sam nodded. “I didn’t get that? Was that a yes?”

“Yes, after re…hab, I did.”

“How was rehab? You had everything again today.”

“It was f…f…fine.”

“Good.” Sam eyed the brochures that Dean had discarded in a chair.

“W…w…what are those?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said with a smiled. “They’re brochures from some apartment complexes I went to today. I still have more to look at though. Hey, when I was in town guess where I saw a sign for rent specials?”

“W…w…where?”

“Sunrise Apartments,” Dean said with a mild chuckle.

“Not f…f…fun…ny, Dean.”

“Oh, come on Sammy, its a little funny.” Sam did grin slightly. But, in essence it just reminded him of the last time they were there to rescue their Dad, and the events that occurred in the cabin. Dean saw the far off look in Sam’s eyes. “Sammy, you all right?”

“Yeah, just re…mem…ber last time there.” Dean nodded. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Why d…d…don’t you t…t…talk about Dad?”

“Nothing to talk about Sam,” he replied. “He’s not here. He’s off hunting.”

“You’re m…m…mad at him.” It was a statement not a question.

“Sammy let’s not do this okay?”

“Why?”

“Leave it alone. Dad’s fine. You and me, we’re good too, right?” Sam nodded. He had no idea what had happened between Dean and their dad, but he decided to let it drop for now.

Later the next day, Jefferson City, Missouri

John Winchester drove through the familiar city as he drove toward Elston. He had stopped at a motel earlier when he first arrived and checked into a room. He cleaned up and shaved. He wanted to be presentable for his boys. He was determined to work as hard as he had to at getting his family back. It was a Saturday and John knew Dean was off work. He made his way to Elston, and stopped at a local gas station to get directions to Sparrow Dr. When he pulled into the small complex he drove by the unit numbered 10B and saw no sign of the black Impala. He turned and left for the rehab. He pulled into the visitor parking area and saw no signs of the car there either. He parked his truck and proceeded inside. He took a deep calming breath before he approached the large contemporary looking visitor’s desk.

“Hi, I’m Carrie. How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see my son Sam Winchester,” he began. “I’m not sure where he’s located.” Carrie proceeded to look up on the computer.

“He’s in 2 East, sir. Room 116.” John offered her smile.

“Thank you,” he replied. “Could you point me in the right direction?”

“Sure, just go down this hall, and make a left and you’ll see a sign with an arrow for 2 East just follow the arrow and then 2 East will be up on your left.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

John walked into 2 East and the wing was bright, airy and branched into two sides. It was very nice and lacked the sterile smell of a hospital. He walked up to the unit desk clerk. “Hi, can I help you?”

“I hope so; I’m looking for room 116.” The middle-aged woman behind the desk smiled.

“Sure down this hall about the tenth room down on the right. Sam’s room is on the right?”

“Thanks,” John was impressed she knew his son’s name. “Learn all of the patient’s names, huh?”

“It’s my unit, and I like to know the residents. And, everyone loves Sam. He’s a sweetheart.” John genuinely smiled.

“Down this hall you say? On the right?”

“Yep, the numbers are above the doors.” John nodded.

He walked down the hallway toward Sam’s room. His heart slammed a staccato rhythm against his sternum. He glanced at the room numbers above the doors; he was at 109 and counting. A small petite nurse stopped in the middle of getting some ice for her patient’s water dispenser. “Lost?”

“Room 116?” His voice was quiet, and unsure. He gave her a tentative smile.

“Sure, almost there,” she replied. “Sam’s room is just a few more down on the right. I could take you,” she offered.

“No, I’m fine, but thank you.”

“Okay, well, I know he’s in there. He just finished with his afternoon PT about an hour ago.”

“Thank you.” The nurse smiled and nodded. “Is his brother with him?”

“Dean? No, he’s running errands, but he’ll be back later. He never misses a day, especially on the weekends.” John nodded. He was quietly relieved that he didn’t have to face both of his son’s all at once. Although, he guessed that Dean was going to be the most difficult, and he couldn’t help but smile at that … because all of Sam’s life he had picked fight’s with his father, and now John anticipated his youngest being the least likely to be resistant to his arrival.

He stood in the hall just a few feet from room 116, and his hands were shaking. He fisted them trying to quell his nerves at the thought of seeing Sammy again. He took a deep breath, and decided it was now or never, and he began a tentative step into the threshold of Sam’s room.