These Broken Roads

Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed

Sam stared up at his big brother, hardly daring to believe that it was really him. Every one of his instincts screamed that it was a trap, that it wasn't safe. He  even thought he could see flames flickering on the edge of his vision. But they were fading, and Dean was here somehow, telling him that he was safe, that Sam wasn't trapped in there, and that Lucifer was gone for good. Sam let out an involuntary shudder at the memories that surfaced.

No matter what, Sam believed his brother. He always would. Even when a cloud of hell separated them, Sam trusted that Dean would lead him through. Dean was his stone number one.

Although the panic still thrummed on his skin and he refused to take his eyes off Dean or let go of him, Sam pushed himself up to lean on the headboard. As if sensing the inherent need from Sam, Dean kept his contact with Sam but moved the hand up to Sam's shoulder.

"What happened?" Sam rasped, his voice rough from screaming and dehydration. Dean cleared his throat before answering. Obviously trying to stall.

"Well, what's the last thing you do remember?" Sam huffed a sigh and ran a hand over his tired face. As much as he needed a good nap though, Sam found it strangely imperative that he know everything.

"Um... I guess the last thing I remember is Toni injecting me with something and then-" Sam stopped when a flood of memories came rushing in.

"You're back in hell with me, bunk buddy."

Stopstopstopstopithurtsstopstopstop

Sam cried out at the painful scenes that flashed through his minds eye. His hands flew to his face, frantically trying to scratch away the hellish after images. Distantly, Sam was aware of Dean calling out his name and could feel Dean's hands pulling on his own. But now the hands felt like foreign and unwanted. Weights trying to drag him back to hell.

"You. Are. Mine."

"Stop? I'm just getting started!"

"And we have all the time in the world too, Sammy."

Painpainpainpainpainpainpainpain

This time Sam screamed. A guttural, horrible sound. It was cut off by a flash of angelic grace that Sam cringed away from. The grace had done its job though and Sam slipped into unconsciousness.
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Dean could honestly say that he was scared out of his mind. Of course, he would never actually say that out loud. One minute, he and Sam were having a coherent conversation and the next, Sam was buried in his mind and trying to tear his own face off.

Sammy was completely out of it now, thanks to Castiel. When Sam had slipped, Dean had panicked and tried to pull him back. Somewhere in the buzz of terror he must of called for Cas or the angel had been attracted by the noise. Cas had promptly put Sam to sleep again and Sam collapsed back on the bed.

Dean got up to pace, looking desperately from his brother to his friend. "What the heck was that, Cas?"
Castiel shook his head sadly.

"Sam experienced more trauma than most humans can survive in the Cage. I can imagine that remembering that time so vividly produced adverse affects." Dean stopped pacing and stared at his unconscious little brother, worry etched permanently on his face.

"So? What does that mean exactly." Dean knew what it meant but he couldn't quite make himself believe it yet.

"It means," Castiel said gently, "that Sam has most likely relapsed to the way he was right after getting his soul out of the Cage." Dean remembered that time all too well. Eventually, Sam had gotten better. He still had nightmares though and on the rare bad days, he would lock himself in his room until he could function properly again.

Dean couldn't believe that Sam was about to go through all that again. They had both fought so hard to get to where they were now just to have it all torn down by some British lady in a pantsuit who thought she was saving the world.

No. That was their job.