Archive of Our Own

Dean’s knuckles were white as he gripped the dragon head shaped handle on his cane. Dean had ordered it custom, ignoring Sam’s claim that a dragon head cane was the douchiest thing he could possibly get, but whatever. Dean knew Sam was jealous of how cool it really was.

But right now he wasn’t focused on his cane, or anything. Anything other than the freaking hack coming near his car with those giant pair of pliers. His throat tensed when he saw Baby rocking back and forth, and there was a tearing sound. Dean let out a gasp and twisted his fingers into the sleeve of Sam’s plaid shirt.

“You’re seriously going to let me sit here and watch them mutilate her?” Dean’s voice was high and tense.

Sam rolled his eyes, still unable to understand his brother’s obsession with a freaking car. He pried Dean’s hand away. “Fine, let’s go get some coffee or something. They said it was going to take an hour or two anyway and there’s a Starbucks across the street.”

“Princess needs her latte?” Dean snapped, but it was without venom.

They crossed the busy street slowly, accommodating Dean’s slower pace. It had now been three years after the accident. Three, and Dean was about as well as he was going to ever get. He didn’t regain full function of his legs. He could walk okay, on warmer days without the cane, though in the winter from time to time, he’d even brought out his old wheelchair just to deal with the cold. The pins holding him together on the inside would freeze on colder days and it was absolute agony.

But right now the weather was mild, and Dean was walking with the cane because it was fucking cool, no matter what Sammy said. And besides, he was finally given the okay to drive Baby again. The only condition…

“Hand controls. Freaking hand controls, Sam,” Dean muttered into his white mocha. As much as he made fun of Sam’s girly coffee drinks, Dean never passed up a trip to Starbucks.

“So you’ve said, about nine thousand times now,” Sam grumbled. He’d taken the day off to help Dean through this trying time.

“I just, I mean Jesus man, what if they do something wrong? What if they scratch her paint,” Dean hissed.

“Well then we sue the shit out of them for everything they’ve got. Baby will get a nice, shiny new paint job and those fuckers will be out of a job,” Sam said, sounding serious, though his eyes told a different story. “We’ll take them on with my entire legal team.”

“Fuck yes we will,” Dean said, completely serious.

Sam rolled his eyes again and sat back. “Look, they’re professionals, and your car is going to be just fine.”

“Yeah but… hand controls? Hand controls, Sammy? I can’t deal with it.”

“Well you’d better. You and I both remember what happened last month when you decided you were ready to drive.”

Dean’s eyes dropped and his face went pink. “Yeah well, those fuckers came out of nowhere.”

“Those "fuckers" were parked cars, and your leg seized and you couldn’t hit the brakes,” Sam reminded him, a little more harshly than he needed to.

Dean pursed his lips. “Whatever, bitch.”

“Because you know I'm right, jerk,” Sam said, but without malice.

0000

“Look it works,” Sam said a year later. Dean had just gotten home from work, now working better hours after he’d been promoted to head of the Stanford office. He’d been working for the cable company for four years, and he was the first person to climb the ladder so damn fast he actually set a record. Especially for a guy with a mail-order GED and zero college experience. He was just that good.

Dean huffed a little and shifted in his chair. The beer in his hands was getting warmer, which was the way he preferred it, and he took a sip. “You realize what an imposition this is for me, right? I mean, I just got promoted.”

Sam’s lips thinned. “They’ve been trying to transfer your ass to San Francisco for months now, Dean. You would have been promoted in July if you hadn’t refused to move.”

“Oh like I was going to uproot you while you were finishing law school, which apparently you have no problem not returning that favor.”

Sam rolled his eyes and sat back, his hands resting over his face. “Goddamn it, Dean. The specialist for your back is in freaking Frisco, and this is a good move for me. It’s a firm where I might actually have a chance at making partner some day.”

“And this isn’t because you and Gabe have been on the rocks lately?”

Sam’s face pinked. “I haven’t spoken to him in three weeks. I’m pretty sure it’s gone well beyond the rocks. And no, I’m not going to move and rearrange my life because some asshole thinks it’s cool to fuck around on me.”

Sam and Gabe had dated exclusively during Sam’s entire stint at Stanford. But it hadn’t been easy. Gabe hadn’t been a guy who liked being tied down, and while it was all fine and good for the doctor in the beginning, he started working odd hours, and eventually Sam got the PI who worked for the firm he was interning at to tail him. Turns out Gabe was working long hours. With some nurses. In a hotel.

Gabe maintained they weren’t married, so he had every right. Sam maintained that just because they weren’t married didn’t mean the cheating was negated. They just couldn’t see eye to eye on that one.

“Let me talk to the guys and see when I can get a transfer, okay?”

Sam let out a little breath of relief. “Good, because that office has been trying to schedule your surgery for freaking months now, and you know you need it.”

Dean huffed, but it was true. His spine was strained, and it was taking a toll on his legs. The specialist maintained Dean might get even more function if he could get through the surgery before the strain did any permanent damage, and it was the thought of being confined back to the wheelchair without any hope of rehabbing his way out of it that pushed Dean to agree.

Turns out the transfer was easier than planned, seeing as they had an open position for a junior VP they’d been trying to hire Dean for. Castiel, who’d gotten a job working for Time Magazine, could live and work anywhere, and though the question was posed a little awkwardly, Dean got through it and Cas smiled.

“Yeah, yeah that would be nice, Dean.”

Dean’s face flushed happily and he let Cas kiss him a few times before he pulled back. “And you’re not worried about… you know?”

Castiel shook his head firmly. “You’re better. You’ve been better. This is… it’s different.”

He was right, and for the first time in years, Dean didn’t feel afraid. Nervous about surgery, apprehensive about recovery, a little anxious because Junior VP was much higher than a branch manager but he was ready to take it all on.

They jumped in Baby, Dean now adjusted to the hand controls, as much as he still bitched about them, and they hit the road. The trip was for house-hunting and paper-signing, and Dean had his first appointment at the doctor. They’d booked a hotel near downtown, and planned to get started the moment they got into town.

Four hours later, Dean was hungry, tired, and really irritated. Nowhere in San Francisco had ground floors. Nowhere. Every goddamn listing was a loft, a high rise, or some little bungalow which had the apartment lifted high up over the garage. Only two places had elevators, and those were so inconveniently located between Dean and Sam’s work, it wouldn’t be worth it.

And to top it off, the streets were fucking narrow. Ridiculously narrow. Dean could barely navigate the impala down main streets, and parking was next to impossible. They hadn’t even gotten to the doctor’s appointment yet and Dean was ready to throw in the damn towel.

“How am I supposed to get around?” Dean snarled, stabbing his burrito with a knife. It was over-stuffed and not very good, but they’d pulled into the first place they could find parking for because Dean swore if he didn’t eat in the next ten minutes he was going to pass out from low blood sugar.

“We go with the elevator building,” Sam insisted.

“That was like an hour commute from your office,” Dean complained. “And the parking sucked.”

“Well I don’t mind the drive, and maybe the Impala shouldn’t, you know, come with us…”

“You bite your tongue,” Dean hissed. “Don’t you dare. She can hear you, she’s right outside!”

“She’s a car,” Sam said in a flat tone. “And maybe she can visit Bobby for a while until we can figure something out.”

Dean was offended, mortified, horrified, but frankly, he didn’t have much choice. He sulked into his burrito, barely eating any of it, ignoring Castiel’s gentle back rubs, though he did make a little noise of protest when his boyfriend stopped for a moment, but he was willing to make sacrifices.

“I feel so grown up,” he muttered to Cas after Sammy dropped them off at the doctor. Sam had to sign his papers for the firm, and would be doing so while Dean was getting poked and prodded.

“Making sacrifices to better your life and job?” Cas said, and nudged Dean as they waited for the elevator. “I’d say so.”

0000

“So level with me doc, how bad is this recovery going to be?” Dean’s voice exuded confidence, but his eyes betrayed him, as did the clenched fist in his lap.

The young doctor sighed a little and smiled, looking over Dean’s chart. “Mr. Winchester, I understand your hesitation, believe me. I can tell you that assuming everything goes well with the surgery, you’re not looking at downtime the way you suffered after your accident.”

“If all goes well,” Dean clarified.

She nodded her head, her dark curls bouncing a little. “Exactly.”

“So it might not go… as expected?”

Her smile faltered a little and she clasped her hands down over his folder. “With a surgery like this, there’s always a risk, and sometimes things don’t go as planned. Your spine is still weak, as you can tell by the fact that your walking has plateaued before you were back to full function. You still suffer moments of paralysis, pain, weakness in your lower extremities. I’m hoping this surgery will correct that.”

Dean looked over at Cas, a little pale faced, and his boyfriend spoke up, asking the question Dean was too afraid to. “Is there a risk that Dean might lose the use of his legs due to this surgery.”

Her face was passive as she said, “Yes, there is. No surgery, especially surgery on the spine, is risk-free. I can tell you the chances are so low, I hardly consider it a risk, but it is my job to tell you there is one.”

“So it’s basically, I live like I’m living right now and end up in a chair eventually…”

“Sooner rather than later, based on your current level of decline,” she cut in.

“Or I get this surgery and possibly risk being paralyzed for the rest of my life.”

“As I said, the risk is so low…”

“Yes, toots, I heard you,” Dean snapped, “but it’s also not your spine you’re going to be digging into.”

She clenched her jaw and nodded. “Very true.”

“How many patients haven’t recovered?” Dean finally asked.

“None,” she said firmly. “None of mine, at least. I’m very good and I’m completely confident that in the end, you’ll benefit.”

Dean took in a shaking breath and then said, “Fine. Sign me up, Doc.”

Though Cas seemed apprehensive, Dean went ahead with the appointment and they went down to the small café located in the lobby to wait for Sam. The younger Winchester had texted, saying he was held up, which was fine by Dean. He needed a moment to gather himself, and he felt a little more relaxed, less desire to be stronger, when it was just him and Cas.

“You’re worried,” Dean said as he poked at the coffee cake Cas had gotten him.

Cas shrugged and said, “A little, yes. She might sound confident but risks are always something you should weigh in on, confidence or not.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah well, I need to do something, you know? She was right, it’s getting worse and I don’t want to be stuck in my chair if there’s a chance I can get better.”

Cas sat back and crossed his arms. “And if you end up paralyzed?”

“I’m on the road there now,” Dean said, a little quiet. “Is that what’s upsetting you? That I might become paralyzed? I mean, shit Cas, you knew there was a risk of that when we got back together. If it’s something you can’t deal with, you’d better take off now.”

Castiel’s eyebrows went up and he shook his head hard. “Dean, that’s not what I meant. I just… I saw how hard all of that was on you and I just… I worry.”

“That I might relapse,” Dean clarified, and when Cas stayed silent, Dean shook his head, his face red. “I know I have no right to ask you to let it go but Jesus Cas, can you? Please? One minute you’re telling me I’m a different person, and then next you’re thinking if something goes wrong I’m going to go all Junkie on you. Have some faith in me, will ya?”

“It’s not like that,” Cas said, clearly sorry he’d made Dean feel that way. “I merely stated my concern because every man has their breaking point.”

Dean let out a breath and his shoulders sank, defeated. “I have no right to ask you to let me live my past down, not after what I did, but I just can’t help feeling exhausted every time I have to see that look on your face. I just…” Dean fell silent though, and remained that way until Sam came to pick them up.

0000

Sam could almost feel the tension between Cas and Dean, and it was concerning. Not just because of the move, though Sam suspected that might have something to do with it, but because he was worried about Dean dealing with a break-up along with a move and his upcoming surgery.

Dean had been doing so well, too. So much so, Sam was worried his brother was just repressing, and he knew what that could lead to. They never talked about Dean’s “problem” but it hung over the house like a cloud, sometimes just a mist, other times dark and stormy.

Retiring to his room early, Dean said goodnight rather tersely and slammed the door, leaving Cas and Sam in the kitchen. As much time as Cas spent around their place, he and Sam didn’t talk much. But Sam had to voice his concerns.

“So what’s up with him?” Sam asked when he heard Metallica blaring from under Dean’s door. It was his leave me the fuck alone music, and Sam sighed as he grabbed a beer for himself and Castiel.

“He’s upset with me, I think,” Cas said quietly. He took the beer but didn’t open it, rolling the bottle between his hands. “I think I may have overstepped my bounds.”

Sam pulled a confused face. Cas? Overstepping his bounds? Dean and Cas were practically married, and Sam had yet to see Dean show any sense of real boundaries where the shorter man was concerned. “What happened?”

“I expressed some concern that should the surgery go poorly and Dean find himself more… injured… he may relapse.”

“Ah.” Sam sat back. It made sense, and it was the elephant in the room no one spoke about. Dean’s relapse. Or rather, his chances of a relapse, because as much pain and suffering Dean had been through, he hadn’t so much as taken a Tylenol with codeine since the accident. “Do you really think he might?” Sam was honestly curious. Curious, because when Dean had fallen into the addiction, Sam was on the other side of the country. He’d seen his brother go from rock star to heroin junkie in the blink of an eye, because he hadn’t been around for the journey.

Cas sighed and shrugged. “As I said to your brother, all men have their breaking point, and with Dean having given up everything important to him, should he truly lose the function of his legs…”

Sam nodded, but the truth was, even as worried as he might be, he didn’t think Dean would go there again. He knew part of the story, the part Cas had told him, but Dean refused to talk about it. But even without that insight, Sam was confident his brother could hold it together through anything.

“I trust him.”

Cas gave a tense smile. “I know, which is why he needs you. Why he’s always needed you.”

“Does it bother you?”

Cas shrugged and then shook his head. “It should, probably, but with me being on the road for months at a time, I find myself feeling more secure than anything. Who am I to judge the closeness of siblings when mine are so…”

“Broken,” Sam said, and his voice conveyed how much that hurt. He had truly loved Gabe, and hated that Gabe was so broken he couldn’t find satisfaction in a man as loyal as Sam was.

Cas’s jaw clenched, like he wanted to say something, but he knew better. Nothing he could say would take away that sting, and honestly, only time would heal those wounds.

0000

“Are you certain Dean’s going to be receptive to this gift?” Cas and Sam found themselves standing in the middle of an instrument store two weeks after their official move to San Francisco. They’d gotten a large apartment on the third floor of a building with an elevator, and though Dean did have to relinquish Baby to Bobby’s for the time being, Sam’s car worked just fine, and the public transit system was helpful in the city.

Dean had taken his medical leave starting that week, prepping for the surgery which was going to keep him fairly incapacitated for at least six weeks. Sam had found Dean one day, standing in the middle of this shop, gently touching the strings on a guitar which looked painfully like the one Dean had played in high school. One he’d eventually parted with, a sacrifice to his addiction. Sam hadn’t told Dean he’d seen him there, but he’d made a decision the moment he’d witnessed it.

“He might be a little weird about it at first, but I was thinking about him and what he needed. It wasn’t the music that drove him over the edge, it was everything else around it. It was everything the music was supposed to be, but wasn’t. And now he’s got us. He’s stronger, he’s healthy, he’s got a job, but music was his life. Music was his passion, his child. And he was good.”

“Yes, he was,” Cas said quietly. “He was amazing.”

“And there’s no reason he shouldn’t have that.”

Cas couldn’t argue. Together they purchased the guitar and the necessary equipment. It was to be a get-well-soon gift. Cas was leaving for a nine week assignment, against his own wishes, but Dean urged him to go.

“I’m just going to be a big, whining baby anyway, and no one wants to deal with that,” Dean said while they laid on the couch, watching a Firefly marathon on Netflix.

Cas sighed and pressed a kiss to the side of Dean’s neck. “I want to. I want to deal with all of it, all of you. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. If anything goes wrong, I’ll have Sammy call and you can come home. But honestly I’m just going to be laying around and stuck in this damn apartment in the freaking chair.”

Cas hesitated, but Dean pulled him in close, capturing his mouth hard and intense. Cas moaned deep in the back of his throat, sending waves of pleasure straight to Dean’s dick. He twisted his fingers in Cas’ hair and yanked his head back, biting down on the side of Castiel’s neck.

Castiel’s fingers made quick work of Dean’s jeans, shifting so Dean could lay flat down on the couch. He accidentally hit the remote, sending the volume soaring up, but neither of them paid attention as Cas’ fingers dove into the front of Dean’s boxers, his thin digits wrapping around Dean’s weeping cock and he pumped him hard and fast, just the way Dean liked it.

Dean gasped, yanking Cas down hard, their mouths, teeth, tongues, crashing against each other. It felt almost desperate, almost fanatical, and Cas realized that if something happened while he was gone, this might be the last time Dean could do this, that he could feel this.

Gulping, Cas shoved himself back and climbed down, his fingers leaving white-hot trails down Dean’s stomach. He nuzzled down Dean’s trail of hair, right to the patch of rough pubes, taking in the musty, sweaty smell of sex. Dean’s dick throbbed against the side of his face as Cas’ tongue laved against Dean’s balls.

Dean gasped and bucked his hips. His eyes were closed when Cas looked up, his head back, lips parted, and his fingers were twitching against his shoulders, urging him on, begging. Cas realized Sam could walk in at any moment, but the thought of getting caught made him feel wilder, bolder, and he wanted to give this to Dean. He had to. Just in case.

He took Dean down in one swallow, with practiced ease, but fiercer and faster than he had before. His teeth scraped Dean a little, but he quickly wrapped his lips around them and let Dean thrust deep, hard into the back of his throat. He gagged a little, then took him deeper, his fingers digging into Dean’s thighs, begging him to come, aching to feel the hot fluids pouring down his throat.

Dean did not disappoint. He bucked and thrust and spilled with a loud cry, uncaring if the neighbors heard, if Sammy, who might be home any minute, walked in. Cas let Dean’s softening dick out of his mouth with a pop and wiped the excess spit and cum with the back of his hand. But he was far from done. So far from done.

Grabbing Dean by the shirt, Cas hauled him to his feet and dragged him with force to the bedroom, maneuvering the slightly taller man with such ease, one might think he had supernatural powers. He lifted Dean onto his toes, kissed him hard and threw him back onto their shared bed.

“Knees,” Cas barked, and Dean complied, his already done cock twitching again.

Cas grabbed the lube and quickly shed his own clothes, nodding for Dean to do the same. He wanted Dean to feel every inch of him, every hot, thrusting inch. He coated his dick liberally, and then fingers, shoving two in and going right for that spot. It was familiar territory, welcome, and Dean bucked back against Cas’ hand, fucking himself on the wet digits.

“Fuck,” Cas said, the sight of it so hot he almost lost it right there. He willed himself to calm down. “Fuck yourself.” And Dean did, hard, groaning as the fingers hit that spot every time.

He could only take so much. When he removed his fingers, Dean made a noise of protest, but it was replaced with a chest-deep moan when Cas sheathed himself in one fluid motion. He fit, like a puzzle piece, and he began to pound Dean into the mattress with fierce abandon.

Dean bit down on the pillow as Cas unleashed, crying out, his dick hard again and weeping against the sheets. Cas really didn’t last long either. One. Two. Three hard thrusts and he was gone. Dean frantically tugged on his own dick and a few drops spilled as he came, already spent but loving every second of it.

They were wrecked. Shattered. Dean yanked back the sheets and sticky and cold, they climbed under. Sweaty skin curled around sweaty skin and Cas buried his face against the back of Dean’s neck.

“I know what that was for,” Dean whispered in the dark. Cas hummed, unwilling to say it aloud. “Thank you.”

0000

Dean was in the desk chair when the front door opened, and he was suddenly met with a lap full of redhead thirteen year old girl. Thin, gangly arms wrapped around his neck as Dean squeezed Anna hello. She sat back and grinned.

“Hi!”

Dean smiled back and then placed his hands over his chest, pointing his middle fingers down and dragging them upward. ‘What’s up?’

“Cas said I could come by and see you before he leaves. He said you’re having surgery!” Anna had a deaf accent, as it was called, but she went to a hearing school, much to Michael’s chagrin. Anna lived with Naomi most of the time, actually, not seeing much of Michael at all. He wasn’t sure about Samandriel, and he was, in fact, fairly surprised not to see Anna’s slightly smaller twin brother with her.

“Yeah, it’s the knife for me,” Dean said dramatically, and Anna rolled her eyes. He shoved her off his lap and she jumped up, slinging her bag on her shoulder. “You settling in for the night? Moving in? Making this place your own now? I refuse to accept any Barbie parties or anything like that.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “I am way too old for Barbie, thank you.” She made a sign that Dean recognized as something not very nice, and he laughed. “Are you okay with it, though? Is Sam? Cas said I could stay the night and he’d take me to school on his way out of town tomorrow.”

“The more the merrier, and you know Sammy adores you.”

“Yeah,” she said, and Dean saw her eyes go all dreamy. Uh oh. That was all they needed, Cas’s baby sitter with a grown up crush on his bro. How awkward. “He gonna be home soon?”

“Mmm nope,” Dean said, and turned back to the computer. “Works late tonight. Why don’t you set up in my room. Cas and I can take the couch.”

“Nah, I think I’ll bunk down in Sam’s,” Anna said, and before Dean could protest, she was off.

Cas was in the room moments later and noticed the look on Dean’s face. “Sam again?”

Dean nodded. “It’s getting bad.”

“She would not stop talking about it in the car. We might have to have a chat with her.”

Dean waved it away. “Aww don’t be like that. Let her have the crush. She’ll get over it soon enough.” He looked behind Cas and was disappointed not to see Samandriel. He’d always liked the twins, gotten along with them well, and he’d been keeping up on his signs as best he could so Samandriel never felt left out. “Just her?”

Cas’ face fell. “There’s… it’s…”

“Michael,” Dean said, and Cas nodded miserably. “He’s such an ass. Maybe I should go and have a chat with him. I mean, they’re your freaking siblings too, and they adore you. He shouldn’t be acting like such a giant douchebag.”

Cas shook his head and put his keys on the table. “No point. You know how he is, and you’re not his favorite person. I doubt it would do any good.”

Dean knew better not to argue, and went back to his reports. Cas told him a little later they were going to meet Sam for dinner at Dean’s favorite Mexican place, and Dean quickly got ready. He was having a good leg day, having spent most of the day glued to the computer, and he had barely a limp as he, Anna, and Cas strolled into the restaurant.

Sam was already at the table, and Cas and Dean shared a look when Anna’s face lit up. She ran up to Sam and hugged him.

“Hey kiddo, how are you?” Sam said, holding her at arm’s length. They hadn’t seen her in a while, and even to Dean it looked like she’d grown a foot. And, he noted uncomfortably, a little in the chest area, which Dean was not ready for. Not the little toddler from the beach. No. Nope. Uh uh.

Anna dragged her thumb under her chin and then brought her flat hand down near her waist, tapping her chest. ‘Not a kid!’

Sam laughed and tapped the side of his temple with all four fingers. ‘I know.’

They settled in to order, all of them in great moods, chatting, letting Anna share all the inane gossip of her Freshman year of high school, and they avoided the topic of the Novak family like the plague. The food was great, drinks even better, and it was at the end of the meal as they picked apart a plate of sopapillas and chocolate sauce that the mood shifted.

Cas and Sam exchanged a look Dean did not like.

“What are you two doing?” Dean demanded as Sam shifted.

“We… have something for you, Dean,” Sam said slowly. “It’s… well think of it as a get well present. It’s at home, but we wanted to talk to you about it before we get there.

Dean’s eyebrow rose. “Um… okay?”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Sam began, and hushed Dean when he rolled his eyes and tried to protest. “We’ve heard all your self deprecating views of the situation, and while we respect them, Cas and I both agreed that though you had to give up a lot, you didn’t have to give up everything.”

“Which is why,” Cas said, taking over, “we’ve gone in together to buy you something.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, and he honest to god had no idea what it could be. “Please tell me it’s not a hooker.” When Anna laughed, Dean blushed, having forgotten she was still a kid.

“No Dean, your long-term boyfriend and I did not get you a hooker,” Sam said, only smirking a little. “It’s… it’s a guitar.”

Dean was stunned into silence. A thousand emotions raced through his head so fast and so hard he couldn’t control them. He was elated, flattered, angry, scared, and awed. He couldn’t believe they’d done it. Why. Why had they? His music had been everything. Everything. He hadn’t thought about it in years but it was always there. It was always…

“You pissed?” Sam’s voice carried, drawing Dean out of his thoughts, and the older Winchester wasn’t sure.

Clearing his throat, Dean said, “Well, I’m stuffed. Wanna take off?”

Cas and Sam looked pensive, but Anna, who obviously didn’t get how intense the situation was, threaded her arm through Sam’s and grinned as Sam dropped a wad of cash with a healthy tip into the server book. They nodded their goodbyes to the welcoming staff and filed out.

Dean hesitated before he turned to Cas and said, “Mind if I hitch a ride with Sammy?”

Anna looked disappointed, but was old enough to know when grown-ups needed to deal with grown up stuff, and signed her agreement to ride with Cas in Castiel’s car. Sam seemed a little nervous as Dean climbed into the passenger seat, and neither brother said a word as they headed toward the bridge.

“So you are pissed.”

Dean ran his hands back through his hair and let out a long breath. “I’m not pissed. I mean Jesus man, how can I be?”

“Well you don’t exactly seem thrilled,” Sam pointed out.

Dean pursed his lips and looked out the window as Sam paid the toll. “I’m scared,” he finally said, so quiet Sam had to strain his ears to hear him. The younger brother said nothing, though, because a moment like this was so damn rare, he considered them officially extinct. “I mean, I think about it all the time, the music. The band. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I’d just stayed with you, or with Bobby or… or shit, anything other than dragging my happy ass all the way across the country like that.”

“Are you afraid of walking that path again?” Sam pressed.

Dean worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a few minutes. “No. Look, I know what you both think about me,” and he held up his hand when Sam opened his mouth to protest. “Sammy, stop. It’s only fair and I get it. I hurt Cas more than words can ever convey, and what I did to you… what I put you through…” he was referring to the accident, not the stealing, and Sam knew that. “I can never possibly be more sorry. But I’m afraid it’s gone. I’m afraid I’ll pick up the guitar and touch the strings and it’ll all be… gone. That music was my ultimate sacrifice to the demon god heroin.”

“It’s not going to be like that,” Sam said, and hated that his voice didn’t sound as confident as he wanted it to. But the truth was, he was thinking the same thing. But they had to try, because he refused to let Dean lose everything about himself to that one mistake.

0000

When they got back to the apartment, Dean was ready to accept the gift with open arms. He kissed Cas hard, hugged Sam, and spent twenty minutes just caressing the back of the guitar’s neck. The amp was substandard, but they lived in an apartment, so there’s no way he could have anything quality and not have his neighbors either kill him or threaten to have the building evict him.

Anna, of course, begged Dean to turn it on, to play something for her. “I don’t hear music very well, but…” She shrugged and made a gesture for Dean to hurry. “I wanna hear it anyway!”

Dean couldn’t tell those wide eyes no, and despite going all pale and trembling, he let Sam help him plug it in and he strummed a few of the strings. It needed tuning, and as he adjusted the sound, Sam disappeared and returned a few minutes later with a box. Dean eyed him warily and his eyes went wide as saucers when Sam opened the top and pulled out his old hangdrum.

“Holy shit, you kept that?” Dean asked.

“I figured I might want to bring it out one day,” Sam said. He licked his fingers a little, wiped them on his shirt and tapped the edges. The soft, sweet, metallic sound reverberated off the apartment’s thin walls, and it sent a shiver down Dean’s spine.

Dean shifted to the edge of the sofa and placed the guitar on his knees, acoustic style. He strummed a few notes, his fingers rusty, a little stiff and slow, but he gave a wicked grin and strummed out the first few notes everyone on the planet knew to Black Sabbath’s Iron Man.

Sam laughed and shook his head. “Really? Ozzy?”

“It’s a classic, so shut your freaking pie hole,” Dean snapped, and went through some scales.

They sat in silence a moment, both brothers looking at each other, and then Sam flexed his hands and tapped out a few notes to one of their most popular songs, a cover of Blind Melon’s No Rain. They’d adapted it to Sam’s unique instrument, and the crowd had always gone wild.

Dean picked up on it quickly and let his fingers find their old, familiar way across the strings. “All I can say is that my life is pretty plain, I like watching the puddles gather rain…”

It had been years since Dean sang. Years. His voice was quiet, like he was afraid to match the notes, but the tone was still there, still strong and gorgeous. Cas’ breath hitched as Dean’s voice flowed over the notes, the melody as Sam matched Dean beat by beat, his eyes closed as he remembered it all.

“All I can do is just pour some tea for two, and speak my point of view but it’s not sane…” Dean looked up to see Anna near the amp, her fingers on the side, her eyes wide as she watched him. He grinned and winked at her, and she let out a small laugh. “It’s not sane… it’s not saa-aa-aaane…”

“I just want someone to say to me, oh oh oh oh, I’ll always be there when you waaaake… you know I’d like to keep my cheeks dry to-day, oh oh oh oh, so stay with me and I’ll have it maaade…” Sam’s voice matched Dean’s on the chorus and filled the apartment.

It was all Cas could do to keep from covering his mouth as he remembered one of the reasons he’d fallen so damn hard for Dean. It was everything about him, but the music was a massive part of it. Music made Dean, and Dean made music. The symbiotic relationship meant when Dean stopped, he’d become fractured, and it was the first time Cas was seeing him whole again. Just no one had realized it until now.

The last note fell from Dean’s lips and his hands stilled. The echoes of the steel hangdrum quietly fell away, and they all sat there in silence until Anna jumped up, clapping and giving a “woot” over and over. “Encore! Encore!”

Dean laughed but put the guitar aside, and though it was subtle, Cas could see Dean’s fingers trembling as they were clasped in his lap. Cas ordered his sister into the shower, to get ready for bed since she had school in the morning, and despite her best pout, none of the boys gave in.

When the water was running and the door was closed, Dean let out a muffled sob. His eyes were dry, but it was clear he was overwhelmed. Cas wanted to run to him, to hold him, but Sam was there first and Cas knew when to step back.

It was a sight to behold, always had been, the love between the brothers. No one hugged the way they did, fierce and full and impossibly tight. No one gave Dean that look on his face the way Sam did, and sometimes Cas was jealous, but mostly he was grateful because he fucking loved Dean and he needed him. Like he needed air.

Sam eventually turned Dean over to Cas with a promise of getting Anna settled in for bed. Cas hesitated but Sam pushed them along, and with Dean’s hand tugging on his, he didn’t need further prodding. They collapsed on their bed, the room still a little musty from sex, but they were sated that night and merely craved the comfort of strong, warm arms.

“Thank you,” Dean said, his nose buried in Castiel’s hair. “I never thought… I didn’t realize…”

“I know,” Cas breathed. He pressed his cheek to the center of Dean’s chest, listening to the heart thumping there. Dean’s surgery was in two days. Two days, and by then he’d be in Maryland. Dean knew it too, sensed the tension and gripped Cas tightly.

“Have I ever told you that you saved me?” Dean whispered. He was sleepy, his voice foggy and thick.

Cas hummed against his shoulder. “Oh?”

“When I was in the coma, I dreamed about you. When I came to, I realized what I’d done. Not a day went by where I didn’t regret losing you. Even if I could never have you again, it was you I wanted to get better for. I mean, me too but… but you. The thought of you raised me from that hell.”

“Gripped you tight and raised you from perdition?” Cas murmured, half asleep and buried in Dean’s warmth, his scent. He pressed a kiss to a scar marring Dean’s arm from the accident and Dean hummed with pleasure. He held on to his lover tightly, and his lover responded in kind.

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

0000

“You’re going to count backwards from twenty, okay Mr. Winchester?”

He was foggy, his eyes barely seeing. The drugs they’d given him had already taken effect and he smiled. “Thanks doll, I remember how this works. Just hope they gave me enough. Because if I get to twenty before…”

Dean woke on his stomach, his face put into a strange sort of hollow pillow and he tried to move, but found he was strapped down. His head was starting to clear, and he realized he was completely numb from the waist down. Panic set in before his brain became fully coherent. The monitor attached to the little device gripping his finger began to beep. The nurse rushed over and took hold of his wrist.

“Mr. Winchester? Can you hear me?”

“My legs. I can’t… I…” Dean faltered.

“You have an epidural, Mr. Winchester. Do you remember where you are?”

Dean struggled to turn his head to see her, but he was stuck. Epidural. It took a moment for that word to make sense. Surgery. Spinal block. Would make sense that he couldn’t move. Jesus. He breathed, and his heart calmed down. “My brother here?”

“In the waiting room,” she said. “You’re gonna need a little while before anyone can come in.”

Dean groaned, wanting Sammy or Cas or someone, but the nurse pushed a button and suddenly he was hit with a quiet, euphoric sensation and his eyes slipped closed. His mouth worked, to tell the lady it should say on his chart no drugs, please, but his lips just wouldn’t move, and he slipped into a painless sleep.

He woke a few hours later completely, in a room that was most definitely not recovery. He was still in the face-down position, strapped down, but the strange contraption holding his head in place was missing and his head was laying flat, to the side. Sam was in the chair next to him, texting on his phone, and snapped to attention when Dean tried to move.

“Hey man, don’t,” Sam said, sitting forward and holding out his hand. “You’re gonna be stuck like that for a while, okay?”

Dean licked his lips and desperately wished he had some water. Sam seemed to read his mind, because he lifted a little jug with a straw sticking out of it, and Dean sipped the ice cold liquid slowly. “Thanks man,” he said, his throat hoarse from being intubated. “All went well?”

“As can be expected. Doctor seemed pretty optimistic, which is good, I guess. They said it’ll be several weeks before you notice any improvements or…”

“Complications,” Dean said. He suddenly felt itchy all over and shifted as best he could to relieve the sensation. “They gave me morphine, didn’t they?”

Sam’s face went still before he nodded. “Um… I told them… it was okay.”

Dean’s eyes went wide and instinctively he tried to sit up, but was prevented by the straps. His back gave a sharp throb and he stilled. “Fuck. Ouch.”

“I told you not to move,” Sam said.

“Why did you do that, Sam? You know I can’t… I shouldn’t…”

“Dude, they just had your back split open, okay? You… you’re good now. You’re fine. I trust you can handle yourself and it’s not… I mean, maybe it’s not the best idea but Dean, you can’t lay there in pain for six weeks.”

Dean was a mixture of frustrated and flattered that his brother believed he was so well. That he could take the morphine without risk. But that was a lie. It might have been the pain, or the feeling morphine gave him, but he already wanted more, and that was dangerous.

“I can’t do it. Please, Sammy, no narcotics, okay?”

Sam looked pained, but nodded. “Got it. I’ll tell them.” It was clear Sam hated it, how could he not? I mean, the thought of his brother relapsing was bad, but the thought of him laying there in agony was worse. Still, he wanted to respect Dean, and he knew his brother was well aware of his own limits. He wasn’t going to push it.

Dean let out a little sigh and closed his eyes, breathing through the pain. It was going to be along road, but one they would walk together. Just like they did before.

0000

Dean was allowed to turn over five days after the surgery, but doing so was a struggle, and Dean ended up asking for something to deal with the pain. The epidural had been removed and after two days, the sensation hadn’t returned to his lower limbs yet. The doctor, a pretty brunette by the name of Lisa Braden, insisted this was totally normal and due to the swelling, but Sam could see the fear in Dean’s eyes.

When Dean drifted, Sam decided he needed a good work out. There was a gym right around the corner from the hospital and he figured they’d have some sort of day pass. He had running shorts and shoes with him in his car, and he needed to vent some stuff out.

The doctor caught up to Sam as he made his way to the elevator, and she tapped his arm. “Mr. Winchester…”

“It’s Sam,” he corrected with a small smile. He liked this doctor, she was blunt and straight forward, and so confident. It was exactly what Dean needed.

“Sam,” she said and smiled, “I know your brother’s got a past, and I respect his decision to use as little narcotics as possible,” she hesitated, “but how worried should I be? Do you know where to draw that line?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Sam said slowly. He heard the elevator whirring and knew it was almost there. “But he does. Trust him.”

Lisa smiled carefully and then stepped back. “Okay. I will. Thanks, Sam.”

Sam nodded and stepped into the elevator, watching as the doors closed while Lisa walked away. The moment Sam’s feet hit the lobby, he was out and walking as fast as he could. Today was a day too familiar. It reminded him of Stanford General, of the stress while watching Dean suffer, and how the only thing that got him through was Gabe.

Gabe.

It had been long enough for Sam not to even think about Gabe anymore, but it still hurt. He still loved the short little piece of shit who, in the end, had let him down worse than anyone ever had. Sam had trusted him, believed him. When Gabe said there wasn’t a game, Sam took that at face value. What he hadn’t realized was how easily he could be let go.

The gym was within walking distance and Sam relished in the smell of sterile work-out equipment and that sort of weird coconutty smell of the spray-on tan from the tanning rooms in the corner. With a sigh, Sam looked around for the counter, and saw a brunette standing behind a computer.

Walking up, Sam set his keys down and smiled. “Hey so I don’t go here, and not really too interested in a membership, but I was kind of hoping I could buy a day pass or something.”

The woman looked up, her already large, brown eyes going wider. She pushed back a lock of rich brown hair and raised an eyebrow. “You don’t recognize me do you, Sam Winchester?”

There was something familiar about her, about the way her full lips shaped around his mouth, the low, husky timber of her voice. Something… god what was it…

“Um…”

“Well we only dated like a semester before I moved, but I didn’t realize I was that forgettable.”

It hit him like a ton of bricks, and Sam took a step back. “Holy crap. Ruby.”

She laughed and nodded. “Took you long enough. And wow, look at you. You really did fill out those big-boy britches, didn’t you?”

Sam flushed and ran his hand back through his hair. “Uh I guess… yeah.”

“And you still do that,” she said, gesturing to the hand through the hair. She shook her head. “Well I have to say I’m surprised to see you here. Last I heard you became some big-shot attorney. Shouldn’t you have some mansion with a gym already in it?”

Clearing his throat, Sam said, “Big-shot, not so much. Junior lawyer still, and I live in an apartment across the bridge. I’m just… I’ll be in the neighborhood for a few weeks. Off and on.”

“Big case?” Ruby popped the gum Sam hadn’t realized she was chewing, and leaned her elbows on the counter.

“My uh… you remember my brother, Dean?”

“Yes, I do,” Ruby said a little darkly. For the short amount of time Ruby and Dean knew each other, they hadn’t gotten along.

“He’s in the hospital. Surgery. He’s gonna be recovering for a while so I figured I’d…”

“Work out your stress?” she said. “No worries, we can set you up.” She typed a few things on the computer. “So I can set you up with a two week trial membership, and bonus, it comes with a free one hour personal training session…” she looked him up and down, “… not that you need it.”

“Whatever, that’s… fine,” Sam said a little uncomfortably.

Ruby typed a little more, occasionally glancing at him. “So rumor has it you went all homo. That true?”

Sam’s face erupted bright red and he let out an involuntary cough. “Jesus um… well… no? Yes? I don’t know. I was serious with a guy for a while but…”

“So the big Q? Questioning?” Ruby laughed at Sam’s discomfort. “Just debating whether or not I should hit on you. Based on your expression, my guess is no.”

“Look I…”

“No worries, big guy. You weren’t the one who got away or anything. Okay let me see…” she scrolled with the mouse and then said, “hey I have a spot right now if you want a really good training session. This guy is the best, but he’ll make you sweat. Hard.”

Sam hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah that sounds good right about now.”

“You look like you could use a good sweat. He’ll ride you hard, but my guess is, you’ll like it.” She laughed again. “Oh one other thing, he’s… he doesn’t talk. Or hear.”

“He’s Deaf?”

Ruby shrugged. “Yeah. I guess. He’s cool though. Just follow his lead and you’ll be alright.”

Sam didn’t bother to tell her he was fairly proficient in sign since Gabe had come into his life with his family. He actually worried a moment that this Deaf trainer might actually be one of Gabe’s brothers. Though it was unwelcome talk for the group whenever the Novaks were brought up. Sam only knew about Cas, Naomi, Michael and the twins. He knew there were a few other brothers out there, but he’d never bothered to question Gabe.

And what if this was Michael. Sam couldn’t remember what the eldest Novak did for a living, but he remembered he did live around the city. Licking his lips, he waited apprehensively while Ruby ambled around the corner to fetch this trainer.

Sam let out a huge breath when he saw a tall man, muscular but well put together, with dirty blonde hair, and was most definitely not Michael. In fact, he looked nothing like any of the Novaks, so Sam felt comfortable again.

“This is L,” Ruby said, making the L sign with her hand. “It’s what he wants us to call him so… whatever.” She shrugged and turned to L. ‘S-A-M,’ she signed.

L dragged one flat hand across the other, and with two flat ‘d’ hands, brought one to the other. ‘Nice to meet you.’ He mouthed it along with his sign, and Sam nodded. He thought briefly about telling L he could sign no problem, but suddenly the trainer yanked on Sam’s arm and dragged him to the weight set.

All thoughts of discussion or conversation were thrown out the window as L immediately put Sam to work. No hesitation, no questions, just go, go, go. And Sam loved it. Loved every minute of it. When he was tired, L simply pointed firmly for Sam to keep going, and he did.

By the time the hour was up, Sam’s limbs were like jelly and he was out of breath, but felt great. It was like he sweated out all of the Dean stress, and he realized, as he took a gulp from his water bottle, he was smiling again.

L mimed lifting a barbell and then brought four fingers to his lips, bringing them down against his other palm and pointed to Sam. ‘Good work out.’

‘Thank you,’ Sam signed, and when L lifted an eyebrow, Sam rubbed a fist on his chest, pointed to himself and twirled his fingers around each other. ‘Sorry, I sign. I should have told you,’ he finished, pointing to L. He then tapped the two fingers on his right hand over the two on his left, pointed to himself, and made the sign for Moose, his hands coming off the sides of his head like giant moose antlers.

L laughed loudly and then waved his hand in front of his chest. ‘Awesome.’ He looked pensive for a moment and then rubbed one fist over the other. ‘Coffee?’

Sam found he didn’t want to say no.

0000

Sam was late. He’d promised to bring Dean some take-out curry after Dean’s claim that the hospital food would be the literal death of him. The clock was ticking, Dean had already refused the hospital food and he was freaking hungry.

It was nearly seven when Sam finally arrived, looking a little flushed. Dean frowned at his brother, sniffing the air a little. “Did you have sex?”

Sam didn’t need to answer, the bright red flush answered the question for him. He set the bag of curry take-out on Dean’s side table near the bed and pushed it over.

“Who? Dude? Chick? Where the hell did you meet someone with your fucked up schedule?”

Sam sat down in the chair and winced, giving away he was also the bottom in whatever situation he’d gotten into, answering the gender question. “I met him at the gym.”

“So you’re totally into dudes now?” Dean asked casually as he tore into the bag. He ripped open the top of the Rogan Josh and poured it all over the rice. It was colder than he would have preferred, but the level of spicy made up for the lack of temperature heat. He took a bite of the tender lamb and moaned. “Jesus, that’s good.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not into any gender in particular. He’s just… nice. I met him at the gym.”

Dean could tell by the way Sam’s mouth pressed closed and jaw tensed, his baby brother was holding something back. But it wasn’t his place to press. He wondered a moment if maybe it was actually Gabe. Everyone knew Gabe was on Dean’s shit-list after what he’d done to Sam, Dean acting a little too overprotective, but damn it, Sam did not deserve what that little troll had done.

“So gym dude. Pretty typical,” Dean said.

“Oh like you’re so involved in the gay community,” Sam snarked, but his voice didn’t hold much venom.

“So can I meet this new friend of yours or what?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe. Right now you need to worry about yourself, not who’s in my bed. How’d therapy go today?”

Dean gave him the run-down. He had feeling in his left foot now, but the doctor did confess she was a little concerned. She expected him to have a little more movement and feeling by now. Dean, however, had expected it. Even in the best situations, he felt like he always got the worst possible outcome. “I’m getting sprung here soon, thank god. I even qualify for some at-home services so I don’t have to schlep down to the rehab center all week.”

Sam gave a nod and said nothing as Dean devoured the food with abandon. It was clear the younger brother was worried, but the Winchesters had both learned how to make the best out of a shit situation. Years and years of gas station Christmases and shop-lifted Easters spoke volumes, but Sam had never felt like he’d missed out on anything. He was happy now, and despite the obvious stress on Dean’s face, it was clear that even if this was it for Dean, he was more satisfied with his life than he ever had been.

And that was a comfort.

00000

Dean was released on a Wednesday, but Sam was in court all day, leaving Dean to see himself home and settled. The nurse who’d be helping with Dean’s rehab at home met him there and got everything set up that he’d need. When the brothers had gotten the apartment, they’d already done the check that it would be accessible for Dean, so she was pretty pleased that she had to do relatively little set-up.

“Well, do you need anything now? I’m sure you can manage your pain meds just fine,” she said, setting his bag on the counter. Dean had a few bottles of stuff for the pain, but mostly non-narcotic. It didn’t do a whole hell of a lot, but it took the edge off. He knew Sam kept a bottle of opiates in the cabinet, for emergencies, but he refused to acknowledge it.

Dean merely waved her off. “I’m good, thanks doll.”

She grinned, a slow blush appearing on her cheeks, and Dean wondered how easy it would be to seduce this poor girl. Not that he would, he was strictly Cas now, but occasionally he remembered his powers of seduction and wondered if they’d still work.

Not that it would do a lot of good. Dean couldn’t feel his dick currently which, when he bothered to think about it, stressed him out far more than his legs. He could only hope things would go back to a little more functioning by the time Cas got home. Though with his level of progress, he wasn’t holding out much hope.

After the nurse, what’s-her-name, left, Dean settled himself from the chair to the couch, adjusting his equipment and covering up with a blanket. He turned on the TV and put the crook of his arm over his eyes. He was uncomfortable, but the smell of his apartment, the lingering smell of Cas, the familiar sounds of the fridge whirring, the neighbors above them walking so loud they had to be wearing clogs, the occasional rushing thump of the city busses, it was home. And home he could feel relaxed, he could feel comfortable, and he could forget for a moment everything he was facing.

It was nearly ten PM when Sam finally got home, looking properly fucked, and Dean was torn between amused and a little put out. With Cas gone, he was lonely, and he hadn’t expected Sam to find someone to occupy his time this quickly, especially during a time like this.

He hated himself for begrudging his brother some time to be happy and selfish, especially considering how much he did take care of Dean, how much he worked, and how broken his heart had been. Dean only wished his baby bro had better timing.

When Sam did come in, Dean was laying prone on his bed with the guitar plugged into the amp, and the speaker turned down low. He was strumming the notes to Alexander the Great, the one by Iron Maiden. He’d always loved the guitar riffs in that song, though he could never get his voice to sound right when he attempted a cover of the song back in high school.

“Alexander the Great… became a legend ‘mongst mortal men…” Sam’s voice startled Dean who sat up on his elbows and raised an eye at his brother. Sam laughed and shook his head. “God, I remember you practicing that song for hours a day.”

Dean pursed his lips and put the guitar aside, pushing himself up to a sitting position, though holding it was still a little difficult. “So… have a good night?”

Sam’s cheeks went splotchy and red and he dropped into Dean’s desk chair. “Man I’m sorry. I know I should be here more, especially today. I feel like a dick.”

The obvious sorrow in his brother’s face made Dean feel even more guilty, and he waved it off. “Nah man, no worries. You deserve some decent sex.”

“Who said it was decent?” Sam challenged.

“Only that you’ve been doing it for a week. Trust me, princess, you’re picky. If it wasn’t good, you’d be long gone.”

It was clear Sam wanted to argue, but he had no argument to give. Dean was telling the truth. “You eat?” Sam finally asked, standing up.

“Yeah, I ordered in. Leftovers in the fridge.” Dean slipped back down to the bed and grabbed his guitar again. He saw Sam give him one last, long look before walking out of the room and shutting the door. Dean struck up the song again, but was left with a strange feeling, like all wasn’t well. Like something dark was on the horizon, and he was pretty sure this time, it wasn’t his legs.

00000

It was five weeks into recovery, four weeks until Cas returned, that Dean started becoming really concerned for his brother. Dean was actually doing better, and not having Sammy around all the time forced him to up his independence and reduce his reliance on other people to get things done. Despite being confined to the chair, he managed cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, and was back to work before his sick leave was officially up.

He was also very tired of the chair, and as the feeling slowly started to come back into his lower extremities, he pushed his rehab hard. Dr. Braden was fairly pleased with his progress and told him as much during his six week check up.

But things were not all peachy keen in the Winchester home. Sam was acting… oddly. It was the only real word for it. He became distant, tired, unfocused. Dean thought he was working long hours until he came home to a message on their house machine from one of the partners asking where Sam had been all week. He’d missed court four days in a row, and had only showed up to two meetings. He was on the verge of being fired, which could kill Sam’s career before it began if he weren’t careful.

Dean tried to reach his brother multiple times, with no luck. Sam was MIA, and Dean had a feeling it was this new lover he’d taken on. Something with this guy wasn’t right, and Dean didn’t have to meet the guy to know.

Sam was showing all the signs of something darker, something nefarious, and Dean could only hope and pray it wasn’t what he thought it was. Not Sammy. Not that kid.

0000

Sam couldn’t explain the feeling he got when he was hanging out with L, who he later learned was actually Luce, and his sign name was the sign for Devil, horns at the side of his head. L explained that his brother had given it to him because he was headstrong and pushy. He didn’t want to comply with the family traditions, and when he rebelled, his older brother had told everyone he was unwell, mentally unstable.

Well Sam and L had been dating, around each other almost twenty-four seven and he couldn’t see it. L was nice. He made Sam laugh. And sure, he encouraged Sam to skip court, to skip meetings, but it was worth it.

‘Right?’ L signed when Sam expressed concern for his job. ‘You deserve it.’

And it was hard to argue with that. After everything he’d done to help his brother keep his life together, after everything Gabe put him through, he deserved it.

Things weren’t totally right, though Sam couldn’t put his finger on it. He felt… dizzy when L was around. Light headed, and almost scared of whatever lay beyond L’s small apartment. He had recurring nightmares, and when he brought up Dean, L was quick to tell him that Dean was only holding him back.

But eventually Sam pushed the issue, which led to the first, huge realization in his life. A realization that should have sent him packing, but he didn’t go.

‘I want you to meet my brother. Please,’ Sam stressed, rubbing his flat palm in a circle on his chest hard. He did his best to show in his expression how important it was to him.

L looked at Sam for a long time, and then beckoned him to sit on his grubby sofa. Sam did, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on L’s face. ‘I need to tell you something,’ he signed, pointing from his mouth to Sam. ‘You know my brothers.’

For some reason, this was not the part that shocked Sam. Over the time he’d spent with L, he became more and more convinced that L was part of the Novak family, despite how hard L tried to conceal it. ‘Ok,’ Sam signed back. ‘G-A-B-E, C-A-S, M-I-C-H-A-E-L?’ he fingerspelled.

L nodded. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I was afraid.’

Sam licked his lips. ‘So why can’t you meet Dean?’

‘Because he believes Michael that I’m insane.’ L hesitated and then signed, ‘Michael told everyone I’m S-C-H-I-Z-O. But you know I’m not.’

It all sounded rough, a little odd, but L pushed Sam’s coffee at him and motioned for him to drink, and Sam did. A few minutes later Sam was laying back with L curled into his side. “You’re with me, right?” L whispered. He never spoke aloud, but he’d whisper, in Sam’s ear, and Sam nodded.

‘I’m with you,’ he signed back, his hands feeling fuzzy and warm and comfortable. And he was. With him.

But Sam didn’t drop it, and L finally agreed to meet Dean, though he seemed really put out about it. He insisted they eat first, and then insisted on being the one to drive, which was fine by Sam who was still feeling really off. Like he wasn’t all there. Paranoid and terrified of how Dean was going to react, especially after L whispered his fears into Sam’s ear.

They arrived at the apartment and Sam felt his stomach lurch as he led the way up. Dean was home, he could smell something cooking, and he wondered briefly if Cas was back. Sam hadn’t been to the apartment in a few weeks and he realized for a moment he’d abandoned his brother during his recovery.

Pursing his lips, he used his key and let them in.

Dean was at the stove, standing with the help of his walker, and when he turned, the meat sauce coated spatula hit the floor with a clatter. L’s hand dropped on Sam’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Are you serious?” Dean’s hands automatically formed the signs along with the words he spoke, having trained himself every time a Novak sibling was around.

Sam held up his hands and did the same as his brother. “Dean, calm down. I know what Michael told you about him but… it’s not true. None of it.”

Dean licked his lips and carefully made his way with staggering steps to his brother. “Show me your arms.”

Sam’s eyebrows went up. “Um… what?”

“Your arms, Sammy. Let me see your arms.”

Sam realized what Dean was asking after a moment, and though his head was fuzzy, he was angry. Furious. “He thinks you’re on drugs,” L whispered into his ear.

Dean’s head cocked to the side. “What did he just say?”

“Nothing,” Sam bit, “and my arms are none of your business. You’re the goddamn junkie here, Dean, not me.”

“Show me,” Dean said, holding his ground.

Sam ripped his sleeve up to show perfect, unmarred flesh. “Asshole.”

Dean wasn’t convinced. Deep in the back of his mind, Sam knew it was probably the foggy look and black circles around his eyes, and the way his fingers were shaking, and the fact that he’d lost weight. Dean also probably knew about him missing work, too. But L’s voice drown that out as he whispered Dean was jealous and trying to prevent him from being happy because he was miserable about his legs. L’s voice drowned out all reason, and Sam stepped back.

“I’m moving out. Fuck you Dean, you can’t control me anymore.” Dean said nothing as L took Sam’s hand and they left.

00000

It took him thirty seconds to reach his phone, which felt like 30 years. He wasn’t sure if Cas would be up or available, but this was an emergency. His lover picked up after 2 rings.

“Sammy’s in trouble.” Cas was at full attention as Dean explained what happened. “I mean, your brother is sick right? It’s not some sick joke Michael made up, is it?”

“No. Luce has been unwell since he was very young. He started exhibiting symptoms right after I was born, and I never knew him any other way. He’s been on and off meds his entire life, and if Michael doesn’t have control over him right now, god knows how bad he really is.”

Dean had no idea how Sam could have fallen for it, but he was petrified. “What do I do?”

“I’m booking a flight,” Cas said. “I need to finish up two meetings over the next two days, and then I’m coming home. We’ll figure this out.”

Dean wanted to argue, but seeing Sammy in that state, dazed, drugged, completely under Luce’s spell… it terrified him. He hung up, forced himself to eat and turned on the TV so he could fall asleep. He needed reinforcements, and he’d feel better once Cas was home.

It was nearly 2 AM when Dean felt the shift in the room. Sitting up with a gasp, Dean went face to face in the dim light of the TV with Sam’s new lover. L was grinning like the Cheshire cat, mad and vicious.

Dean looked around for his chair or walker, but neither were in sight. L pointed at the door and Dean saw his chair sitting there.

“What the fuck?” Dean asked aloud.

With strong hands, Luce gripped Dean’s upper arms and hauled him up. Dean let out a sharp cry of pain as his back throbbed, and numbness shot down his legs.

“He’s mine now,” Luce whispered into Dean’s ear. His fingers dug into Dean’s flesh painfully, leaving bruises almost instantly. “You’re not getting him back. He’s mine. And when I’m done with him, there won’t be anything left. Sammy was a bad boy. Sammy needs to be punished.” Luce gave Dean a shake so hard, something popped, and Dean’s legs went completely dead.

Dropping him unceremoniously, Luce waved at Dean as he slung Sam’s overnight back over his shoulder and opened the door. Gritting his teeth, Dean struggled to sit up as he watched Luce grab his chair and propel it out. A moment later he heard the crash. Luce had destroyed his chair. Dean was stuck.

It took him ten minutes to reach the phone, army crawling across the floor to his bedroom where he stashed his cell phone. The room was upended, drawers dumped, everything gone through. But Luce had missed his phone and Dean instantly scrolled through the contacts. He paused on Bobby, and then on his doctor and then on Cas, but eventually scrolled to a number he thought he’d never call.

“Go for Gabe,” came the high, nasal voice.

Dean cleared his throat. “Hey asshole, your psycho brother’s got Sam and he fucked me up good.”

The drive from Stanford to Frisco was about 45 minutes, but Gabe made it to Dean’s apartment in 25. He dragged in what remained of the wheelchair, and the disassembled walker which he said he found in the hallway.

Dean managed to get himself up and wondered how much damage Luce had really done, but now was not the time to worry about it. “I think the doorman has one of those public service chairs, for emergencies. Which obviously this is one. I’ll call down there later. My phone’s dead right now.” He was on the sofa, silently praying the damage wasn’t permanent, but more worried about getting Sam the hell out of there.

“How bad is it?” Gabe was looking at Dean’s bruised upper arms and legs.

“Fucking bad. How the hell did your brother manage to get… like that?” Dean asked, leaning forward. “And do you have any goddamn clue what he’s done to Sam?”

Gabe’s face fell and he gave a nod. “I’m afraid so. My big bro isn’t… well he’s creative, I should say. He’s got no concept of empathy, sympathy… what Lucy wants, Lucy gets and if we don’t get to Sam soon, he might do some actual damage.”

Dean felt fear flood through him, petrified for his brother, and desperate. “We need to get him. Where the hell is he?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t seen Lucy in years.”

Dean hung his head and motioned for Gabe’s phone. When the doctor hesitated, Dean snapped, “Give me your phone, jackass.”

Gabe pulled a face but complied, and sat silent as Dean called down to the door man for the wheel chair, and then made a call to Cas, who didn’t pick up so he left a message, and one to Bobby who vowed to get up there first thing in the morning. Dean did not want to wait that long.

“Look my brother met him at the gym,” Dean said after the wheelchair had been delivered. He wheeled over to the computer desk. “Let’s think about this logically. He started working out while I was at the hospital, so he was probably at some gym near there.” Dean googled it and saw four gyms in the area. “We could call and ask them if Luce worked there?”

“Not sure they can legally give us that info,” Gabe said, stroking his chin. “But it’s worth a try. Only…” he held up a finger and then pushed Dean out of the way. Dropping to his knees, he pulled up facebook and then typed in a name Dean vaguely recognized. “Ruby,” Gabe said.

“I think I went to school with her. Total whore,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“Massive bitch, but became friends with Luce. I remember Michael bitching about her because she was hearing, and very rude to him.” Gabe scrolled through her about and then hit the screen. “Bingo. She works at the gym right across the street from the hospital.”

It was all a matter of finding her address, which they did after paying $29.95 to some shitty, unsecured website that was sure to get Dean’s credit card hacked. But it was worth it, because she was only twenty minutes away, and Gabe was bouncing on his toes, ready to hit the road.

“Come on, wheels, we’re losing time,” Gabe said, sounding almost out of breath.

“What’s the rush, you fuckin’ troll?” Dean griped as they hit the elevator button down. “I’m surprised you even showed.”

Gabe’s face crumpled into hurt for a split second. “Look what your brother and I was complicated but… shit man, my brother is nuts. Like goddamn cuckoo. I don’t even want to think what he’s got that kiddo hopped up on.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Dean said quietly as they headed to Gabe’s car parked on the street, “he’s not a kid anymore.”

Dean managed to maneuver himself into the passenger seat while Gabe squeezed the chair into the back of the car. Dean pulled the address up on his GPS and it wasn’t long before they were hurtling down the road toward Ruby’s little apartment. She lived in the neighborhood lovingly referred to as Fog Alley, just a few minutes from the bay, houses packed together like sardines in a can, all the homes sitting above the garages. It was way too late to make out any features of the neighborhood, but they found her address and Gabe got out, leaning into the window.

“Stay here and call the cops if she runs.” When Dean tried to protest, Gabe rolled his eyes. “There are stairs, you moron. If you think I’m hauling your happy ass up and down the stairs, you’re out of your damn mind. Just trust me on this, Dean. I want Sammy safe, just like you do.”

It was the eyes that convinced Dean, and he sat, worrying his bottom lip for twenty minutes until Gabe came down stairs. The first thing Dean saw was blood on his shirt, and the second was the glimmer of something sharp in his sleeve. Dean felt it was better he didn’t ask.

“I’ve got the address,” Gabe said, his voice dark. “Let’s go.”

Dean felt a moment of panic, realizing he might have just become accessory to murder, or at the very least, assault, but it didn’t matter. They had to get Sammy safe.

Luce was holed up in an apartment with no elevator, which was going to be a problem since Dean flat-out refused not to go. He expected Gabe to fight him somehow, but when the short doctor managed to haul Dean up on his back and then drag his wheelchair behind, Dean realized Gabe was in it 100% and there was no turning back.

It was three flights of stairs, and Gabe was gasping for breath, but they made it to the landing. He dumped Dean in the chair unceremoniously, Dean biting back a cry of pain, and they looked down the dark, dingy hallway.

“That’s his,” Gabe said, nodding to the furthest door on the right.

“So what? We just burst in there, guns blazing?”

“I’m sort of sans gun right now,” Gabe said. “And more than likely that bitch Ruby already tipped Luce off. So if you’ve got some sort of plan…”

“Guns blazing, and by guns I mean we kick down the door and bum-rush them.”

“By we, you mean me,” Gabe said, but he didn’t sound entirely opposed to the idea. And Dean trusted his strength considering what he’d just hauled up the stairs.

Gabe nodded, and Dean returned it, and they decided making noise didn’t really matter as they approached the door. Gabe lifted his foot, but then stopped, put his fingers on the door handle and turned it. To their surprise, it opened.

“Hello brother,” Gabe said, and then rushed at Luce who was standing near Sam.

Later, when Dean tried to recall the events, it would seem like a blur. Gabe rushed, and Luce laughed, and despite Gabe having his long knife drawn, Luce managed to grab his older brother around the neck and turned the blade back on him.

It was almost like the movies, the way Gabe’s eyes went wide, and he glanced up at Sam who stared blankly, and then back at Dean before he slumped to the ground. Dean could see red spreading out all over his white shirt, and he felt sick.

He pushed his chair into the apartment a few feet before Luce’s foot stopped him. Dean looked right past him at his brother. “Sammy, please don’t do this. Please. Look at him!” He pointed down at Gabe, and sluggishly, Sam’s eyes trailed down to Gabe’s fallen body, and then back up again.

Luce laughed again, grabbed Dean by his shirt and hauled him out of the chair. He tossed him onto the ground, belly first, and put the heel of his boot right on Dean’s spine. “You’re afraid to die,” Luce said, his accent thicker than Michael’s and his voice more hoarse from disuse. “I’m not going to kill you…yet. I’m going to make you watch first.” And with a heavy crack, Luce brought his heel down on Dean’s spine.

The pain was blinding, fierce, all encompassing. And then there was the blessed numbness as his body went into instant shock. Gasping for breath, Dean climbed to his elbows, only to be kicked in the face. He felt blood trickling out of his nose and mouth, but oddly, it didn’t hurt.

He struggled up again, eyes squinting in anticipation of another blow, but it didn’t come. He glanced up and saw Luce standing next to Sam. “I told you, he’s mine,” Luce both said and signed with one hand.

Dean opened his mouth to argue, to say something, to beg for Sam’s life, but suddenly Luce was plunging a hypo into the side of Sam’s neck and Dean watched helplessly, crying out through swollen lips as Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head.

And then another slow motion. In the din of the apartment, as Sam’s body hit the floor, Dean saw another shadow. His eyes went wide, and Luce smirked as he took one, then two steps toward Dean. And it was obvious Luce thought Dean’s expression was fear, fear of what Luce had planned for him, but then the heavy metal baton cracked over the back of Luce’s head, and after a brief moment of surprise on his face, Luce went down. His body hit the floor with a dull thump, just inches away from where Sam and Gabe lay.

Standing there, looking stunned and horrified, was Michael. He wiped the sweat from his brow and knelt beside Dean.

“How hurt are you?”

Dean pressed all four fingers to his chin and brought them out, turning them so his palm was facing the floor. ‘Bad,’ he signed, as it hurt too much to talk.

“I alerted the police,” Michael said sharply and then went to his brother to check for a pulse. Sam was next, and Michael gave Dean a reassuring nod that Sam was still alive. Gabe too, though Michael signed that Gabe’s heart was weak. But a few minutes later there were footsteps on the stairs, and Dean was giving into the pain and his vision was going dark at the edges.

He vaguely remembered being strapped to a gurney and then the stairs as they brought him down. The last thing he remembered was saying, “Just make sure Sammy’s okay,” before he was gone.

00000

Sam itched at the bracelets on his wrist, hating the feeling of them. He never wore jewelry, it always made him feel oddly claustrophobic. The doctor in the room, he couldn’t remember his name, was checking over his results.

“Alright Mr. Winchester, it looks like your system is mostly clear. You should be good to go. How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered honestly. It wasn’t the drugs leaving his system, or the near overdose L had given him. It was the foggy memory of Gabe being stabbed, of Dean’s back being stomped and his face being kicked in. It was knowing everything he’d been through over the last month had been a lie, and knowing that lie had more than likely destroyed the man he loved, and his brother.

He swallowed down guilt like a rock stuck in his throat and shook his head. “I really want to see my brother.”

The doctor gave a shrug. “You’re welcome to. He’s doing fine, recovering nicely and I think he’s on the third floor.”

“And the other man? Gabriel Novak?”

“ICU,” the doctor said. “You can check with the nurses there regarding his condition.” He signed a paper for Sam and handed it over. “There were officers here earlier asking for your statement regarding the events. I’ve taken the liberty of printing up these consent forms for medical release. It’ll show your test results and indicate you’ve been regularly poisoned over a period of several weeks. I believe that’s what they’re looking for.”

Sam swallowed thickly again and nodded. “Uh… thanks. Doc.”

And then it was over. One night’s stay and Sam was good as new. Or well, as good as he could be. The doctor had blah blah blah’d on about some potential long term side effects. Apparently L had been drugging him with a particular anti-psychotic medication that, when you weren’t psychotic, had the opposite effect. But Sam hadn’t really been listening. No, he wanted to know how bad Dean was, how bad Gabe was. Fuck. He was fucking fucked.

ICU was down the hall, but Sam wanted to see Dean first. He had to know. The elevator whirred and lurched as it stopped at floor three, and Sam paused by the nurse’s station to grab Dean’s room number. He paused in the doorway when he heard voices.

“…ain’t doing yourself no favors by acting like this, boy.”

It was Bobby. Sam briefly hesitated but Dean caught sight of Sam’s long, gangly arm and called him in. “Yo, bitch, get your ass in here and quit acting like a creep.”

Sam put on his calmest face and strolled through the door. “Don’t call be bitch, jerk,” he replied, but his voice was toneless.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “Look man, is this how it’s going to be? Are you doing to fall into your self-deprecating emo crap again, because I don’t think I can take it.”

Sam glanced at Bobby, but found he couldn’t meet the older man’s eyes. He grabbed a chair and plopped down. “So what did they say about your um…”

“Legs?” Dean offered, and shrugged. “So far nothing. I’ve got this bullshit back board thing strapped to me, but they said the most they can tell is none of the pins in my back pierced the spinal column, and that’s a good thing.”

“So you’re not…”

“Paralyzed?” Dean finished for his brother again. “No idea. At this point, who fucking cares. You didn’t die, Gabe so far hasn’t gone toe-up, that fucking nutcase is put away, and Cas is flying in tonight.”

Sam searched Dean’s face for truth and found it. And, as odd as it was, he realized that hurt more. That Dean would be okay with never walking again simply because in the end, they were all alive, caused an ache Sam hadn’t expected. He caught his breath and stood up.

“I need to um…” And though Dean called after him, Sam rushed out and took the stairs. He paused near the ground floor, gulping air as he steadied himself on the wall. Fuck. It was just so fucked.

00000

“Dean,” Bobby warned as Sam took off, “don’t.”

“Bobby, go after him! You can’t let him have his little freak out on his own.”

“The hell I can’t. That boy’s got so much guilt right now he don’t know what to do with himself, and nothin’ I say is gonna help that. You need to let him work it out on his own or he ain’t gonna get any better.”

Dean wanted to argue more, but just then, his doctor came in. The way she was smiling, Dean had a feeling it was good news. “So doll, lay it on me. Am I ever gonna walk again?” He threw heavy drama into his voice, which made her roll her eyes.

“I knew it was a bad idea taking you on as a patient. I was warned,” she said, shaking her head.

Dean pretended to be offended, but dropped the act when she yanked up the sheet from his foot and shook an aerosol can above his toes. She pressed down on the button, which let out a hissing noise, and Dean frowned until suddenly his leg was hit by a blast of ice-cold air.

He jumped and his foot involuntarily twitched. “Jesus, woman!” But then it sank in and he found himself laughing. “I felt that.”

Lisa crossed her arms, smiled and nodded. “Yes, Mr. Winchester, you did. You’re very lucky. So lucky I feel I might almost compromise my morals and say it’s a miracle. You should be completely paralyzed, but you’re not. The pins in your back actually did their job and preserved your spine. Your healing might take a little longer, so I hope you have a comfortable chair, but expect everything to go as planned.”

Dean didn’t expect the tears in his eyes, but he did accept the hug from Bobby, and the overwhelming sense that as long as Sam got his head out of his ass, it would be okay.

00000

Sam found himself standing by the wall, the phone pressed to his ear as the nurse explained Gabe’s condition. “… about an hour he should be up for visitors. The surgery went well without any complications and provided the tests on his other kidney functions come back normal, he shouldn’t need to change his life too much. Consider him lucky he only lost a kidney.”

That was so harsh, but Sam understood where she was coming from. He muttered his thanks and hung up the phone. The waiting room was sparsely populated, so Sam plopped himself down in the seat and waited. And waited.

It was nearly eight PM when the nurse told him he’d have to come back the next day. Sam wanted to scream, to rage, to demand to see him, but what was the point. He hung his head, sent Dean a text he was heading back to the apartment for the night, and then left.

He didn’t expect to sleep, but his body apparently had other ideas, because when Sam hit the couch, he was out until nearly nine the next morning. He woke to his phone buzzing, and saw he had several missed calls from an unknown number. The messages indicated it was a pair of detectives who wanted to get his statement.

Sam wasn’t sure he was ready for that, but what choice did he have? Still, he wanted to see Gabe first. So he showered, dressed, gulped down some instant coffee and then went downstairs. His car was still parked in his spot since he’d been using L’s, and he hopped in.

The hospital wasn’t far, and when he got there, the nurse let him in right away. “He woke up earlier this morning, but if he doesn’t wake up now, don’t be worried. He’s still intubated and on a lot of pain medication. He should be moved out of ICU within the next few days though.”

Sam paused by the room, wondering if he really did have the courage to go in. Turns out, he did. It was dimly lit, and there were machines and tubes everywhere. Gabe’s eyelids were dark, and the tube over his mouth was really scary looking. It brought back all that fear, all that horror when he saw Dean laying there fighting for his life, and his stomach lurched.

He touched Gabe’s hand, and was startled when Gabe shifted and his eyes fluttered open. Sam gave a small smile. “Hey.”

With shaky fingers, Gabe lifted his hands to the side of his head and made Sam’s name sign. ‘Moose.’

Sam laughed. “I guess it’s a good thing we have another way to communicate. How do you feel?”

‘Like I got stabbed.’ Sam’s jaw clenched and Gabe quickly squeezed Sam’s wrist. ‘Not your fault. Not.’

Sam shook his head. “I was such a stupid moron. So… so stupid.”

‘You didn’t know.’

Sam swallowed and looked away. It was true, for the most part, but there had been signs. Subtle ones, but ones he should have noticed nonetheless. “I can’t believe you showed. Last time we talked you…”

But Gabe’s hand on his wrist stopped him. Sam looked down to see Gabe’s fist circling his chest. ‘Sorry.’ Sam let out a small breath and Gabe dropped his middle and ring finger toward his palm, his forefinger, pinky, and thumb extended. ‘I love you.’

Sam shook his head, but couldn’t help his smile as he tapped four fingers on his temple. ‘I know.’

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Dean woke to a warm hand in his, and looked over to see a bleary-eyed Cas sitting beside his bed. His face broke out into a grin as Cas leaned in to kiss him. “Man are you a sigh for sore eyes.”

Cas’ smile was tense and wan. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” Dean said, tapping his legs, “but the doc says I should be fine. No lasting damage as far as she can tell.”

Cas let out a small breath and rubbed his face. “I saw Michael before I got here. He told me everything.”

“How he saved my life?” Dean asked, and shook his head. “I hate the son of a bitch, but I owe him.”

Cas gave a slow nod. “Luce is being put away for a long time. Michael has some connections, I guess, and they’re pushing the case through. Michael said your brother signed a release form for his medical records proving Luce had been drugging him for the past month.”

That was all suspected, but hearing conformation of it gave Dean a sense of almost closure. I mean, maybe it was a little Sammy, a little pent up frustration over everything he’d gone through, but Dean had never doubted Sammy’s loyalty or love for him. Luce was the devil, and he’d tempted Sam and almost destroyed him, but in the end, Lucifer lost.

“Well good,” Dean finally said. “You’re home, Sammy’s okay, I’m getting sprung soon, and as soon as we get an update on Gabe…”

“He lost a kidney,” Cas said. “I saw him earlier. He’s going to be okay, as long as he takes care of himself.”

“Shit,” Dean breathed. “Well I’m glad he’s okay. I owe him a lot, too.”

Cas nodded slowly and leaned forward to take Dean’s hand again. “I love you. Life with you is insane and scary sometimes, and I can’t shake the feeling some day you’re going to do something so stupid it’s really going to cost you but… I’m in it as far and as deep as you want to go. I love you.”

Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand back and said. “Yeah. I know.”