Catch A Flame

Chapter 9

June 26, 2014

"Wait, wait, wait." Sam took two behemoth strides to his brother's bed. He pulled the chair up.

Dean groaned. "Dad here?"

"Dad's dead. Has been for years." Sam said incredulously.

Dean's eyes opened at this. "What?"

Sam ignored that. "I-I haven't grown up Dean. I've been like this." Desperately he looked to see if his older brother had any recognition of anything. "It's the middle of 2014, Dean."

"What?" The word repeated.

"You hit your head during that last call." Sam thought out loud. "That skull fracture was the least of our problems.."

Dean's fingers rubbed his temple furiously.

"Do you really not remember Cas?"

The elder Winchester mumbled something that nearly stopped the younger's heart. Then suddenly Dean jerked forward, holding his head in his hands. The machines to his left were going berserk as he clenched his teeth in pain. Nurses rushed in with the Doc on their tails, before shoving Sam from the room. Horror set on his face as his wide eyes studied Cas. He knew now what had been troubling him. They all desperately wished for it to not be true.

June 27, 2014

Sam's jacket had been draped over the chair to use as a pillow. Jess had taken over the larger lazy chair. Though said spot was empty at the moment. She was most likely out getting coffee and something in the cafeteria. Thankfully the room had been designed so family could stay if only any of it had been large enough to accommodate Sam. Hell, Dean's bed was almost too small.

Sam sat there, unable to get back to sleep. Jess had draped her own jacket over the chair, she had woken up several minutes ago. Meanwhile, her husband-to-be was terrified that his best man wasn't going to wake up again. The doctors had warned him yesterday and spent more time with testing. They weren't able to find the degree of memory loss, or if it could all just come back today. To be on the safe side Sam had convinced Cas to go home. The man needed rest anyway. Sam was praying for the first time in years that the memories would all just come back. That there would be nothing wrong with his brother.

"Hope you're not planning my funeral before I'm dead. You're gonna have to work harder to get rid of me." The grumble came unexpectedly in the dimly lit room. "I know you probably hate me but you should cancel the visitation. I don't think the guests wanna shake hands with the guy their mourning."

Sam bolted upright. "W-what? I don't hate you, Dean."

"Well, you're not all dressed up because of my good looks." Dean was looking at him now. "I know I'm the better-looking brother but-" he paused, finally taking in his surroundings. His smirk dropped. "I swear to god if Charlie burnt the house down-"

"What? No, Charlie hasn't burnt the house down..." Sam trailed off taking this in. It was starting to dawn on him. The last time Sam had been pissed off at his brother (according to the degree explained by said person) was right before he went off to college. His eyes grew wide. When that happened he and Charlie split the difference on a house, right as he was becoming a fireman and Charlie had finished up her medical training.

Dean's eyes were half open. "Must have been a damn close call. Shit." He drug a hand over his face. "Well, there goes my career."

"What do you mean?" Sam sat forward.

"Really Sam? You think their gonna let a screw-up rookie back on truck?" Dean sneered. "You really need to rethink your degree, college boy."

"I already graduated." The words left Sam's mouth before he could process them.