Heroes-Revisited

By Ridley C. James, July 2006 re-edited in 2007

Beta & contributor: Tidia

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me.

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Chapter 12/13

"I have something for you." Taylor moved to the chair he had occupied before Sam and Caleb burst in. “A few things actually.”

Sam raised a brow. “Really?”

The teacher retrieved a couple of books, a huge folded piece of cardboard and what looked like a lunch bag. He handed the card to Sam first. "All the class signed this, but I think it is important that you know it was Kelley that mounted and organized the operation. She's hoping you'll be back at school before the banquet."

Sam's face brightened slightly and the teacher continued. "Cody was very worried about you being bored, so he sent two of his favorite reads."

Sam took the books and smiled at the titles. Ornithology-Mystery of the Skies. Treasure Island. "Tell Owl I said thanks."

"And last but not least, this is from your buddy Shelton." Taylor presented the brown bag. "He said to tell you that it was your share of the loot. He made me promise not to look and said you'd understand."

Sam took the bag and carefully peeked inside, the faint blush from before blossomed like paint across his somewhat pale face. He quickly folded the bag back up and tossed it on his bed. "Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Taylor."

The teacher crossed his arms over his chest. "No problem, Sam. Now, tell me how you're really doing?"

Sam leaned back against the bed, staring at the man in front of him. "I'm fine."

"Okay." Taylor flashed him an understanding smile, ignoring Sam's earlier breakdown. "That's good to hear. So you'll be getting out of here pretty soon then?"

The teen shrugged. "I'm not leaving until Dean gets out."

Taylor nodded. "And how's that looking?"

"My uncle Mac says that the procedure is working." Sam cleared his throat. "But…"

"But?"

"I don't think I've ever been as scared as I was when they were talking about all the things that could go wrong."

Taylor bobbed his head knowingly. "Doctors aren't always very understanding. I think they're born pessimistic."

Sam nodded. "Especially one of Dean's doctors. He’s a real jerk. His idea of making me feel better was to explain the cool thing about radiation treatments."

“I’m sure I know which one you’re speaking of.” Again Taylor nodded in sympathy. "Trust me, I understand. I once had the flu and Dean’s doctor tried comforting me by explaining how lucky I was not to have small pox. He even had pictures and a video demonstration."

When the teen frowned, his teacher sighed. "I know it's hard to believe, but underneath it all, he is a nice guy, and actually graduated in the top ten percent of his class. Dean couldn't be in more capable hands, even if he is lacking on the bedside manner."

"You know Dean's doctor?"

"Yeah, I know Ryan like you know Dean. DNA is amazing, huh? I share more of it with him than anyone else on the planet-and yet, it's like he's an alien."

With all the excitement, Sam hadn't even realized the physician treating his brother had the same last name as his teacher nor did he recall that Taylor had told him his brother was a doctor in their conversation at the camp. "I guess I'm not used to using your last name."

"Yeah, Mr. White, is so my dad. I just couldn't bring myself to go there."

For the second time since Mr. Taylor had arrived, Sam felt a rush of embarrassment. "I'm sorry about what I said about him."

"Don't be," Taylor waved Sam's apology off. "Like I said, he's a good doctor. Just ask my mother, or my father, or my grandmother, or even old man Dickson down at the butcher's shop. Heck, anyone in the tri-state area that my mother can reach by phone, they'll be glad to sing his praises."

"Sometimes I forget how special my brother is-how important he is." Dean was home. The only home that Sam had ever known.

"It's easy to take those around us for granted, Sam."

"I tried to tell him that I was sorry."

"Let me guess, he looked at you like you were an idiot."

"Yeah, but I still need to say it, even if he doesn't want to hear it, even if he's forgotten about it. I'll make him listen." Sam's eyes had a pleading quality to them. "I have to make it right. I don't want him to feel differently about me."

"I can understand you needing to say you're sorry, Sam, but I don't think Dean could or would feel differently about you either way." The teacher shrugged. "Sometimes, sorry is more for the offender than the person who was offended. It can ring pretty hollow if you're not careful."

The teenager glanced up guiltily. "I…I just want to stop feeling so bad."

Taylor sighed.

"You just don't understand what he is to me."

"He's your hero."

Sam's frown deepened, but he didn't deny the other man's words, so Taylor continued. "Not the kind that can leap tall buildings in a single bound, or catch a bullet with their teeth, but the kind that steadies you when you're about to fall."

"Captain Onehulluva Big Brother," Sam said softly, ducking his head.

Taylor chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

The teen looked up. "But how do you repay somebody for being all that?"

"You don't." The teacher shrugged. "Although cutting them some slack on the whole 'I know what's best just because I'm older' thing is a start. And I've found that a good rare steak and some cold beer goes a long way with Ryan."

"For Dean it's cheeseburgers and a shake."

"See-now you're thinking. Although I wouldn't advise sneaking that in. Ryan would go all doctor on you, and then confiscate it for the benefit of his patient-meaning you'd be buying my brother lunch, instead of yours.” Taylor reached out and squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Don't worry though; I'm sure something will come to you."

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Caleb reclined on the bench in the small meditation garden and pressed his cell phone to his ear. He ignored the sign that said no cell phones in the meditation garden "Hey Moose, how are things going?"

Oliver Havers, otherwise known as Moose was Caleb's friend from college and supervisor for his construction company. He had given Oliver temporary control over their current job while Reaves remained at the hospital.

“Skid! How the hell is Little Dude?”

Caleb grinned at the odd nickname. It was appropriate when Dean was eleven, but now it didn’t seem right. Although Moose’s bulking frame and height made almost everyone a ‘little dude’ in comparison. “Dean’s hanging in there.”

"And the runt of the litter?"

“Sam’s doing better.”

“Good. Don’t worry about shop stuff. I’ve got it all under control.”

Reaves snorted. “As long as you’re not using your crayons to doodle on any of the blue prints again.”

“Dude, those were brilliant additions.”

“Moose, stick to drawing football plays for your city league team. Stay away from my sketches.”

Oliver laughed. “Bring Dean up for another visit when he’s on his feet. Last time was a blast..”

“Like the kid needs any more bad influences.”

“Seriously, take all the time you need, man. You’ve only got one family.”

“Right.” Caleb cleared his throat. “I'll see you soon." Reaves shut the phone off and slipped it back into his pocket. He leaned his elbows on his knees and raked a hand over his mouth. If he kept screwing up, there wouldn’t be any family left. He was about to return to Sam's room when he heard a voice call out to him.

"Hello, my boy."

Out of the dark shadows of the evening stepped Pastor Jim Murphy. "Jim!" Reaves stood.

Jim reached out to him, engulfed him in a quick hug. Caleb smiled, then frowned when he noticed the white bandage on the pastor’s forehead. "Are you okay?"

“This is nothing.” Self-consciously Murphy touched the bandage. "Joshua took care of it; but don’t tell your father. How are our boys?"

“Not good.” Caleb was relived he could make a confession. He glanced down at the ground. "God, Jim, I screwed up. Sam was unconscious because I projected through him, and now he's fine, but Dean. . .Dad had to put him in a hypothermic state to lower the cranial pressure." Reaves looked at the pastor. “To make a long story short, I screwed up and the boys nearly died because of it.”

Jim blinked, taking in the information. Murphy gripped the young hunter's forearm. "Somehow, Caleb, I believe there is more to it and it is not your fault at all."

"But, Sam. . ." Caleb had been fully aware of what he was doing to Sam. He’d plowed straight ahead, damn the consequences.

Jim shook his head, unwilling to listen to Reaves's negativity. "We're you trying to save him? Save Dean perhaps?"

Caleb rubbed his mouth. It wasn't so simple. "Well, yes, but I should have. . ."

"I assume there was nothing else you could do?"

"No, there didn't seem like any other choice, but there are always choices." Caleb thinned his lips. "You're always saying that."

Jim lightly tapped the psychic's face. "I trust you, Caleb. I trust you to make the right choices where the Winchesters are concerned. I always have. Sometimes I don't think you make the best choices for yourself. Seems like all my boys have a self-sacrificing streak in them." Jim gestured to the doors. "Can you take me to them?"

"Yeah, but you're going to have to deal with Johnny first." Caleb cringed at having to explain how he had gone against John's wishes.

Jim smiled. "Your father mentioned as much. You took the brunt of that?"

Caleb shrugged. "I can take it. Sam's a different story, and is going to need reinforcements."

“Then let’s not let him down.”

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Sam stiffened when John Winchester entered the room, but relaxed when he saw Pastor Jim following behind him along with Caleb. He glanced to Mr. Taylor. "You get to meet some more of my scary family." The teen commented to his teacher. "Hi Pastor Jim."

"Samuel, I'm glad to see you are feeling better." Jim gave a warm grin to the teen.

An apprehensive thought crossed Sam's mind. "Is Dean okay?"

"We just left him, and Mackland said he was doing better than expected." Murphy replied and Sam felt relieved.

John stepped forward. "Mr. Taylor, Caleb told me you were visiting."

"Mr. Winchester." Taylor extended his hand, wincing at the man's forceful grip. "Like I explained to your brother, I just dropped by to check in on Sam, bring him some things from school."

"I'm Jim Murphy. Nice to meet you and I know John appreciates your attentiveness to your students."

Taylor accepted the warm handshake. The gray haired man was different from the others. Caleb remained leaning near the door.

John rolled his eyes at Pastor Jim, but kept up with the small talk. "Sam's been keeping up with his homework. I hope this won't affect his grades."

"No." Taylor shook his head. "Sam's grades are solid."

"Yeah, sometimes it's almost like he knows everything." John stared at his son again, and Sam swallowed hard. "Or at least thinks he does."

"Well, I guess I should be going."

"Do you have to?" Sam asked, suddenly. "I mean you haven't even told me what next week's assignments are."

"Actually, we're just watching a video, playing some games. It is the last week of school." Taylor smiled sympathetically at Sam. "All work and no play makes us teachers think we have a real job."

"Well, it was good of you to stop by." Caleb moved away from the door.

"I hope you'll be back before the dance, Sam. It won't be the same without you. Give Dean my best." He tilted his head apologetically in Sam's direction before opening the door. "Good luck," Taylor quickly added before leaving and closing the door behind him.

"You disobeyed a direct order." John reached out both his hands to clasp the boy's slim shoulders before he could move closer to Pastor Jim and Reaves. "I don't give orders just to hear myself speak, Sammy."

"Johnathan," Jim warned.

"This order wasn't fair."

John glared at Jim. The pastor put his hands up in peace and joined a contrite Caleb near the door.

"Fair?" The eldest Winchester sat on the corner of the bed. "To who? You? Me? Your brother? And since when is anything I tell you up for debate?"

Sam glanced down; avoiding his father's gaze only comforted by the fact Caleb and Jim were in the room so there would be no bloodshed. "But I needed to see him."

John reached out and lifted his son's chin so they were looking at each other. "And I needed to protect you from seeing him. Do you think Dean wanted you to see him that way? Look how upset you got."

Sam jerked his head away from his father. "Dean wouldn't have wanted me locked away like some little kid."

"Really?" John leaned out of his son's personal space. "Well, that's funny considering he made me promise not to let you visit him if it got bad. I gave him my word."

A disbelieving look crossed Sam's face.

"What? You don't believe me? His exact words were, and I quote…'Don't cave to Sammy, Dad. The kid doesn't need anything else to have nightmares about'. "

The teen frowned. It sounded just like something his brother would say, and the thought of it made his eyes water. "He's in pain," he whispered.

John sighed, running his hand through his son's hair. "I know, kiddo. But he's getting better. We have to focus on that." Mac and Jim were right; anger wasn't going to help either of his boys.

"It didn't look like Dean."

"Your brother is still in there, son."

"I know." Sam nodded, lifting his gaze hopefully. "That's what Caleb said- what he was trying to show me."

John turned around. "Yeah, well, he wouldn't have needed to do that if he'd kept your ass here like he was supposed to."

"I'm sorry. I fuc--. . ." Caleb started, then chose a different word, aware of the pastor. "I screwed up."

"It wasn't his fault." Sam interrupted.

John stared at his son. "Let's look at this from my point of view. You- believe it or not- just turned thirteen, not more than two weeks ago. Caleb, on the other hand, is twenty-five. He should know better." Winchester glanced in Reaves’s direction again. “I expected him to know better.”

Caleb sighed and left the room. Jim gave John a disappointing look, and followed the psychic out.

Sam moved back to his bed and sat down. "I am sorry, Dad. I guess my imagination wasn’t as bad as I thought. I should have listened to you.”

"Can I have that in writing? That way I can pull it out in the coming years to prove to you that just because I'm your old man, I'm not always wrong."

"It still wouldn't be a binding contract, Dad."

John rolled his eyes. "Still sticking with the lawyer thing I see?"

"Well that or maybe a teacher."

"Teacher?" John sighed. "Stick to law-at least that we can probably use in our family, and they make a lot more money." He ruffled his son's hair. "Which means more ammo."

Sam laughed, a yawn catching him off guard. "So Dean's really going to be okay, Dad?"

John reached down, grabbed one of Sam's feet and slipped his tennis shoes off. "Yeah, Sammy, he is. I promise I'll keep you updated, and as soon as he's a little more himself, I'll make sure you can sit with him as much as you want. You'll be there when he wakes up. Okay?"

The teen nodded, didn't protest when his father removed his other shoe and pulled the covers up over his legs. "I'm glad he's going to be okay. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have Dean."

"I know what you mean." John patted his youngest son's chest, before turning off the Donald Duck lamp. The both of them would be in big trouble without the older boy for several reasons. "Get some sleep, son."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?" John stood up.

"Will you stay here…until I fall asleep? I'm used to…well…Dean's usually close by, just in case."

The request caught him off guard. It had been a long time since either of his sons had sought comfort from him. "Sure, kiddo."

“And Dad?”

“Yes, Son?”

“Will you not kill Caleb? Dean kind of likes having him around.”

John snorted. “Dean does, huh?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’ll think about it.”

"Thanks, Dad."

"Anytime, Sammy. Anytime."

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"The Great Horned Owl is the fiercest and most powerful hunter among its fellow owls." John looked up from the large book of Ornithology he was reading to stare at the unresponsive form on the bed. "I can respect that, can't you, Ace?"

Dean's pale face remained impassive. There was no movement except for the shivers still attacking his body every so often and the forced rise and fall of his chest mandated by the damn respirator.

Mackland told John the shivering would dissipate, seeing as how they had steadily been warming Dean back to normal body temperature for the last twenty-four hours. But the father in him would not be convinced until Dean was awake and complaining about all the blankets piled on top of him.

The hunter looked back at the book. "The great horned owl is known to be an aggressive and protective parent." John laughed. "Now that I can definitely understand." Sometimes those shared attributes with the great horned owl got John in trouble. He had endured a lengthy lecture from Jim the previous night and suffered through the silent treatment from Caleb.

Winchester carefully turned the page, hoping Mackland was correct about Dean being able to hear them- about interaction being crucial in bringing his son back to a conscious state. When Dean woke up John would try to do things differently- do better.

"The owls will often nurture and defend their young until they are fully mature and can leave the nest." John snorted. "Right. Like I'm ever going to be ready for that moment." He glanced up at Dean. "Can we just agree now that you and Sammy aren't leaving the nest for a very, very long time?"

"Horned owls spend most of their time hunting." John read. "Their approach is silent, their prey almost always unaware." The man looked up at his son again with a derisive scoff. "That may be true when I hunt alone, but when I have you boys with me, it's rarely quiet. Most of that being your fault, as you're well aware."

John only wished his son would come back with some snarky comment or lame joke about how he and Sam would exist on grunts and growls alone if not for the eloquent conversationalist in the family. Sadly, it was probably true. "In general the great horned owl is solitary, preferring to inhabit unsettled places alone."

For some reason the eldest Winchester's eyes began to sting and he quickly rubbed at them, swallowing hard to dislodge the lump that had suddenly sprung to his tightening throat. "Guess that sounds a bit like your old man too. Huh?"

John read for a moment in silence, unable to trust his voice to remain steady and true. When his eyes fell to the next page he smiled. He glanced skyward as he often did when something ironic occurred or a memory of his dead wife exploded before him. "Now here's a bird after your own heart, son."

"A Harris Hawk. Very intelligent. And, get this, the only bird of prey in the world known to be naturally gregarious." John shook his head slightly. "They hunt and live together as a family, and it is not uncommon to find adult siblings sharing the same nest. When on a hunt they work as a team, again acting very differently from any other birds of prey. Two or three birds will act as sentries, guarding against larger predators while the other members draw out and capture their prey without falling into harm's way."

The hunter closed the book and leaned back in his chair. "Pretty damn considerate bird-putting other members of the family before its own needs. Almost seems to go against the instinct of a true hunter." John put Sam's book on the table and rested his elbows on his knees as he sat forward once more. "And here all this time I was worried about your priorities when it came to the job."

In an uncharacteristic move, John reached his hand through the rails of the hospital bed and placed it over his son's. "Maybe we're just different predators?"

The silence was unnerving, and John licked at his lips. "You know, now that I think of it, you used to have this whole thing for feathers. You and your mom would find them at the park, in the woods when we'd go camping. Once, Mary found you a hawk feather on the side of the road where her car broke down. She was more excited about telling me that, then explaining what in the hell had happened to that old bucket of bolts she was driving. It was the pride of your collection."

John grinned. "I used to tease her that you were going to get bird lice, but she loved the way you'd make a big deal out of each new one you'd find. God, she loved you, Ace. You and Sammy. I wish…" John felt his throat start to close up again, and he let his fingers curl around Dean's. "I wish she was here now. She'd know what to say-what to do."

"Damn it, Dean!" John growled, withdrawing his touch and standing up. He couldn't take it, not one minute longer. "Open your eyes. Now."

To his surprise a monitor near the bed beeped. For one scary second John worried he'd done something wrong, but then Dean's eyelashes fluttered against his pale skin, and the older hunter held his breath. "Come on, son. Wake up." He laid his hand against his boy's too-cold forehead. "Your brother needs you, Dean. Sammy needs you. We both do."

There was a long moment when John believed it was wishful thinking, but then Dean's eyes opened, mere slits at first, then wide with fear.

His son reached up and started for the breathing tube, but John caught his hands, gently guided them back to the bed. "Easy, Ace. Let the professionals take care of that, okay."

The teen gagged, and struggled weakly against his father's grip. John one-handedly pinned Dean's hands and used his other to push the call button. "Dean. Stop it."

When the nurse's voice came through the speaker, John barked at her to get Mac. Dean had settled some by the time Mac entered the room, followed by Pastor Jim. The minister had remained outside the room in prayer since he arrived. One flustered RN followed in their wake.

Ames's face lit up when his patient's slightly panicked and pleading gaze found his. "Look who's awake."

The nurse made her way to John's side of the bed, and not so politely asked him to move away, taking his place, holding Dean's arms.

Jim gestured for John to come and stand by him to give room for the professionals to work. Mackland leaned across the bed, pressed the button to raise the top half, and waited until the teen was elevated. "You ready to get rid of this thing?"

Dean nodded and Mac glanced at the nurse then back to the young hunter. "On the count of three, cough for me."

John watched with apprehension as his old friend expertly took hold of the breathing tube, counted quietly to the number three, and then swiftly removed it.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Dean coughed a few times, his hands rubbed his burning throat as he glared at Mac. The nurse offered him some water. He gratefully took a few sips before lying his head tiredly back on the pillow. His eyes sought out his father. "Sammy?"

Jim chuckled and Mac snorted.

John smiled wearily. "Your brother's fine."

"Where?" Dean asked, wincing as his sore throat protested.

"Up on the pediatrics floor with Caleb. The doctors have let him stay on until you decided to join the world again."

"Why don't you go see if he wants to come down for a little while?" Mackland's suggestion had all eyes on him. "I think the storm has passed." He smiled. "Everything looks good. I still want to do another MRI and CAT, but I don't see why a quick visit from Sam can't come first."

John nodded, then squeezed Dean's shoulder. "I'll be back, son." He found it surprisingly hard to walk away now that his boy was awake, but he had also promised Sam he'd come get him as soon as Mac gave permission.

"How long?" Dean croaked, taking another sip of water.

"Five days, my boy. You gave me time to get here." Jim answered, standing next to the young hunter's bedside.

"Mac had to call reinforcements?" Dean frowned, closed his eyes for a moment. "Is everyone okay?"

"Everyone's fine, better now that you're awake." Jim patted the boy's shoulder.

In the hallway John ran into Caleb. The younger hunter looked up at him with a mixture of apprehension and concern. "John, is…"

"He's awake."

"Sam…," Caleb started, but John nodded.

"I'm going to get him."

"I just came from there. Those boys, Cody and Shelton were with him, but about ready to head out, I think."

"Thanks." John looked down at the floor for a second, before glancing up. "Look, kid…"

"Yeah?" Caleb met his gaze, shifting uncomfortably.

"About the other day…"

Caleb sighed, ran a hand through his hair. "I was…well…" The younger hunter shrugged. "Out of line."

"Yeah." John shrugged, looked over the other man's shoulder. "Me too."

"So…" Caleb cleared his throat. "We're good?" He raised a brow, as if he were only slightly curious.

"We're good." John agreed.

"Good. Might have been awkward…"

"Right." John started to step around him, but then stopped, holding his gaze. "Just don't let it happen again."

Caleb nodded. "Not a problem."

"Good."

The two stood there for a moment, before a hint of a smirk appeared on Caleb's handsome face. "So, are you waiting for a hug or something, big guy, because that would be awkward too, you know?"

"Smart ass, wonder where you picked that up from?" John grinned with a slight shake of his head.

“Runs in the family.” Caleb smiled, glad for the normalcy. He made his way to ICU and was greeted by the cute, black-haired nurse he'd been flirting with days earlier. "Hey," he caught her arm before she could stumble.

"Hi!" she flashed him a smile, and nodded over her shoulder. "Your nephew is awake, if you want to go in."

"That's great news." He released her. "Want to help me celebrate later?"

She laughed, coyly. "Maybe."

The hunter watched her walk off, glancing back at him a couple of times as she did. Yes, things were definitely getting back to normal.

"Where's Sammy?" Croaked a voice barely recognizable as Dean's as he finally made it in to the ICU.

"Nice to see you too, Deuce." Caleb walked over to the bed, shooting Mac and Jim an amused expression as the doctor rolled his eyes at his patient's one-track mind.

"I thought…you were with him." The tone was almost accusing and Caleb held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Cut me some slack. I've been in teenage hell for the last two hours, listening to way much more than I ever wanted to know about the low cut shirt Kelley was wearing in the lunch room yesterday and who hit who the hardest in the latest round of swapping licks on the playground." Caleb shook his head. "Not to mention getting into a very disturbing discussion about political unrest in the Sudan with some really geeky kid named Buzzard or something another."

"Owl," Dean croaked, unable to resist the slight smile that hinted at his chapped lips. "Sammy has weird taste in friends."

"Yeah, well, look at his home environment," Caleb replied.

“This from the guy who hangs out with a ‘Moose’.”

"And haven’t I warned you about those cult friends of yours?" Jim commented.

Mac excused himself before a counterattack could be waged. "I need to get things set up in Radiology for the tests I want to have run."

"Thanks, Mac…for everything."

"You're welcome." Mac patted the teen's leg and left the room.

"I am going to see what's keeping John." Jim drifted away, feeling the two young men needed some time alone.

"So…" Caleb leaned against the rail. "You still feeling the effects of the evil Doctor Ames' cold ray, Solo?"

Dean looked at him, fighting the urge to shiver. "No, I'm good and toasty."

The older hunter smirked. "Glad to hear it."

"Sammy's okay?"

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Damn, do I look like an idiot? I can take care of a kid, you know?"

"Like the time you were supposed to be watching him, but nearly let him flood Jim's bathroom."

"Newsflash…Sammy can take a bath by himself now. Although, I did have to threaten to dress him once while you were out of it."

"It's just…"Dean sighed. "I know how he can be."

"You mean how he can be a major pain in the ass."

Dean frowned. "Don't say that about him."

The older hunter smiled. "You forgetting that I can read minds?"

"I can think anything I want about him, but…"

"I know…he's your brother." Caleb sighed.

Dean shivered again, and Caleb made a big deal of jerking the covers up further, rolling his eyes, and huffing. "Damn, when is my job of Winchester nanny going to be over?"

"Sorry to put you out," Dean said, miserably, reaching up to rub at his slightly aching head. He yawned. "But you kind of had a hand in all this."

Caleb nodded, his face growing serious. "About all that, Deuce?"

Dean held up his hand. "Don't sweat it. It was an accident. I get it."

"Yeah, well, I can't say the same for your insubordination." Caleb shook his head. "Next time when we're on a hunt, I have top rank."

Dean snorted. "Whatever." His eyes drifted to the door. "Hey, you think I'm going to get a ring?"

"For what?" Caleb shook his head. "You almost died. So did Sam.”

“I almost died when you got your ring.”

Reaves frowned. “This was pretty scary shit, Deuce, and you slept through the worst of it. It wasn't a picnic watching your dad and Sammy go through hell not knowing if you were going to pull out of it."

Dean grinned. "You ain't going to cry or anything are you, Damien?"

"Shit." Caleb scoffed. "I've lapped two-hundred year-old scotch off the naked body of a Victoria's Secret supermodel, driven a Ferrari on the German Autobahn, and had seats on the fifty-yard line when the Cowboys won the Superbowl, and have yet to shed one single tear, man."

"Right." Dean smirked. "Since when do you like scotch?"

Caleb laughed. "Like you wouldn't drink anti-freeze with that kind of motivation and pay off."

"True," Dean admitted around another jaw-popping yawn. Now that he was awake, he was finding it harder and harder to stay that way. "Really though…thanks for watching out for Sammy."

"If I didn’t already have a ring then I would have gotten it for not killing the runt." Caleb cleared his throat, and stood up a little straighter. "He missed you and so did I-sort of."

The door swung open and a very breathless Sam barged into the room. "Dean!"

"Samuel!" John called from the nurse's desk where he spoke to Nurse Meyers and Pastor Jim. "This is a hospital, young man. Stop yelling!"

"Do you think he realizes that he's yelling at Sam for yelling?" Caleb asked.

Dean shook his head slightly. "Aren't families great?"

Sam crossed the floor and was at his brother's side in seconds. "You're awake."

"Hard to stay unconscious with all the noise."

Sam smiled. "Someone should talk to Dad about that." He glanced up at Caleb.

"Oh no." The older hunter backed up. "The Sammy stare no longer has any power over me. I now renounce my identity as Caleb Winchester. Caleb Reaves is so much cooler."

"Jim is taking Dad for breakfast. Real steak and eggs."

Caleb felt his mouth water. He could catch up with them and also check in with Moose at Tri-Corp. "Sammy, think you can watch over your brother until Mac comes back?"

"I can handle it." Sam said, grateful Caleb was leaving the two brothers alone.

“Be a good boy, Deuce and I’ll bring you back a happy meal.”

“Can I get a supermodel as my prize?”

Reaves snorted and squeezed his forearm. “You wish.”

Sam let his eyes travel the length of his brother's body and back. "So, you're okay?"

Dean fought off another shiver, and forced a smile. "Now that I'm defrosting, I'm doing much better."

Sam leaned forward. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Dean frowned. "You and Caleb paint my toenails while I was on ice or something? Tell me you didn't die my hair like I did yours that time when you were like ten."

Sam shook his head. "I'm trying to be serious here."

Dean grinned, blinking to keep his eyes from closing all the way. "Dude, you've been way too serious lately."

"I thought you were going to die."

The words or maybe their solemn tone had Dean forcing himself to stay awake. "Are you kidding? And leave you to finish raising Dad?"

"I just…" Sam glanced down at the bed where his hands were fiddling with one of the blankets covering his brother. "And then Dad wouldn't let me see you…well, except for that one time."

Dean frowned. A faint memory of his brother being with him in the cold darkness floated up from his subconscious like residual feelings from a bad dream. "I didn't want you here."

Sam looked up, his brown-flecked gaze showing both hurt and a little anger. "Why? You would have stayed with me."

"Yeah, and that's why I get paid the big brother bucks. Sidekicks and little brothers have to work their way up, earn their own capes." Dean forced a half smile. "You haven't even got a utility belt yet."

"I'm not a baby."

Dean sighed. "I know." He could easily recall that innocent six-year-old version of Sam, the one that clung to him in the coatroom, trusting him to make it all better. A hint of a smile touched his face. "But it was easier when you were."

Sam held his gaze, and nodded. "Yeah, for both of us."

The older teen turned his head more, shifting on the bed slightly. "Look, Sammy, I'm not going to be able to stay awake here much longer, but I want to get one thing clear-okay?"

"What's that?"

"I get that you're growing up, and that it sucks to be you right now, but I can't stop being who I am, or stop doing what I've been doing my whole life just because you've come down with a bad case of testosterone."

Sam nodded. "You're my big brother." He wouldn't change that, even if he could.

Dean nodded. "That about sums it up."

"No matter where I am, you'll always find me."

"Absolutely."

"And you have to protect me."

"Right." Dean blinked again, his eyes staying shut for a moment longer than before. "It's my job."

"And you won't ever leave me."

Dean opened his eyes, not missing how the younger boy's breath caught. "Not without one hell of a fight, kiddo."

Sam nodded, watching his brother finally lose his struggle to stay awake. "And you love me." he whispered.

Dean muttered in his sleep. The words sounding to Sam like he said, "More than anything." But then again, it could have been. "No chick-flick scene."

Sam decided it didn't really matter, because both meant the same thing. He covered Dean's hand with his own and smiled. "I love you too, Dean."

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