A/N: This is a tag to 11x11, so clearly there will be spoilers for that episode and the current season's storyline.

I loved this episode; Robbie Thompson just knows how to tackle the old issues that have been left unaddressed and often forgotten by the writers, but not by the fans! We had some hurt/Dean; some brotherly love, some confession and remorse that were long overdue and some heart to heart moments! Yes, I'm happy!

I wrote this tag merely because I needed more hurt/Dean, that's it! Hope you like this quick short story.

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. The Ringing in My Head .

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Sleep was evasive that night and Dean knew from the beginning that it would! Yet, he went to bed, lay down and tried to summon it!

There was some ringing going on in his head, just as he'd told Sam, but he wasn't sure that the ringing had anything to do with him bashing his head open against the wall and the concussion that he was pretty sure he'd suffered.

It was like his head was the sole unlucky target of a vicious tornado of thoughts. There were just so many things on his mind that he couldn't get rid of; there was the thought of Amara; the thing that he'd thought could be affection, but doubted very much, because seriously, he did try to kill her and he did want it so bad, but the way Amara acted confused him so much and the way he felt confused him even more; even the thought of his talk with Cas and how he'd seemed off was bothering him! Then there was the thought of his talk with Mildred and how she told him to follow his heart and how she'd assumed that he was pining for a woman; and could it be Amara and what the hell? Seriously! He didn't pine for anyone let alone the Darkness! He was Dean freaking Winchester!

Damn, his head hurt!

Giving up on getting any sleep, Dean sat upright and pushed the blanket away.

What was he supposed to do? Go on with his life like he hadn't lost the chances of killing the Darkness? -Of course, not for lack of trying, because hello, he had tried and the knife had failed!- But anyway, was he supposed to pretend like he didn't feel it in his heart that there was a connection between him and Amara that he loathed yet couldn't fight? And more importantly, was he supposed to act like the banshee had actually attacked him because it'd felt threatened by him since he was holding the gold blade like he'd told Sam and not because for some reasons he'd been the most vulnerable person there?

Man, he'd prayed that Sam wouldn't question his reasoning, because to be honest, in his head his excuse had sounded kinda lame; after all, if the thing had been after Mildred, she would've heard the screams not him and he was glad Sam was tired enough not to actually think about it. But what was it that made him so vulnerable? Was it the thing he'd felt with Amara? Was it the burden of it? What was he supposed to do?

"Ugh, Goddamit!" Cursing under his breath, Dean pushed up from the bed and quietly left his room, not wanting to make any sound that'd wake Sam up if he'd finally found some sleep.

Walking to the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee and once it was ready, he walked to the storage room that Cas had been tearing apart, trying to find out what the angel had been looking for so vigorously.

The pain in his head had gone from throbbing to aching mercilessly and the riming in his head was turning into a series of bells tolling loudly! But, being Dean and used to pain, he ignored them all, sat down, grabbed some sheets from the ground and started to read them, not noticing the small river of blood that was running out of his right ear!

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As he opened his eyes, Sam felt he hadn't been so well-rested in years; smiling slightly, he brought his arm up to check the time. His eyes slightly widened when he realized it was almost 10.30 in the morning; no wonder he felt so refreshed.

Stretching his body, he slowly got up from his bed and walked to the kitchen, hoping to see that Dean had made them a hearty breakfast and had left him at least one cup of coffee. It wasn't uncommon for Dean to make him breakfast, especially after a heart to heart and last night's talk certainly had been one. He smiled slightly as he remembered the talk with his brother; another reason why he'd slept so well; it was a weight lifted off his chest after years. Knowing that Dean knew he'd regretted not looking for him gave him a sense of calmness. Oh, he knew Dean had forgiven him long time ago; it just wasn't like Dean not to forgive him; he was just too much of a good brother to hold anything against him and by anything, he meant absolutely anything, even leaving his brother to rot in the damn purgatory! But what mattered was that now Dean knew Sam regretted it, too and Sam knew it mattered to Dean the most!

Upon entering the kitchen, Sam's shoulder dropped along with the corners of his mouth. Not only there wasn't any sort of breakfast ready for him, there wasn't even any coffee left, which meant he had to make his own coffee and wait for it.

Well, maybe Dean was still sleeping; maybe he should start making breakfast for Dean for once and surprise him! Yes, that was a good idea and it gave Sam some new energy. Grabbing the pan he put it on the stove and went to start the coffee first when he noticed the coffee pot was missing!

Wait, maybe Dean was awake; he never slept that long anyway; so where was he? And why had he taken the pot with him? Sam wanted coffee, too! His shoulders once again dropped as he wandered out of the kitchen, this time, hoping to find Dean and the coffee pot sooner.

Dean wasn't in his room, or the main hall or the garage with Impala. That only left so many other rooms in that huge bunker!

"Dean!" Sam gave up on finding his brother on his own. "Dean, where are you?"

Nothing!

Rolling his eyes, Sam started to check the file rooms; what he didn't expect to find was Dean lying on the ground with papers scattered around him and the coffee pot and his mug in front of him. As Sam stood in the door way and studied his brother, he figured that Dean must've had problem sleeping last night and therefore had come here to do some research and had fallen asleep. But the ground was so hard and he was sure Dean would be in a lot of pain when he woke up; not to mention with the bashing his head had taken the night before, he'd have a killer headache. He winced in sympathy and quickly left to grab a couple of painkillers and a glass of water before returning to his brother's side.

"Dean?" He shook his shoulder. "Come on, how long have you been sleeping here?"

Dean didn't even stir and that was enough to send a cold shiver down Sam's spine. Everyone who'd met Dean knew he was a light sleeper and yet he wasn't waking up even when Sam was shaking him.

"Dean." He called louder, his voice laced with fear. He grabbed his brother's shoulders and slowly turned him on his back and that's when he noticed the dried blood that had come out of his ear. "Shit." Sam's eyes went wide. "Dean. Come on, wake up." He was now shaking the older man roughly and to absolutely no avail. He couldn't waste any more time, God knew how long Dean had been like that, so he ran out of the room to find his cellphone and call Cas; Cas could help them. He could heal Dean in an instant and everything would be OK again; but Cas wasn't picking up. "Goddammit." Sam roared and rushed back to Dean's side. As gently as he could, he picked up his brother and stood up; if Cas was unavailable, then Dean was in immediate need of a hospital.

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"I'm sorry, but your brother's slipped into a coma."

Sam had insisted on standing once the doctor finally showed his face to tell him about his brother and now he wished he'd just sat down in the first place.

"How bad?"

"There was a bleeding in his head; in the front lobe to be exact and as slow as it had been, it put too much pressure on his brain because it'd gone untreated for hours."

Sam wondered when they'd stopped taking their injuries seriously enough to seek professional opinion instead of applying a butterfly bandage on their wounds. Before finally getting rid of the banshee, Dean had been banging his head against the wall pretty hard and for quite a while; Sam should've realized that there was no way he could walk away with nothing but a mildly bruised forehead! Hell, the mildly bruised forehead should've been a clue! If the external bleeding and bruising weren't severe, then the risk of internal damage would grow higher.

"- really am sorry it took us so long to inform you about his situation."

Sam realized that the doctor was still speaking.

"But we were trying to determine whether he needed surgery or not."

"Does he?" Sam's heart skipped a bit; a coma was bad enough; if Dean needed brain surgery, it'd-

"No. At least not now. We think the bleeding has already stopped and with the right drug we should be able to get rid of any clot. But I'm afraid we can't say for sure when he'll wake up."

"But he'll wake up, right?" 'Please, God-' Sam abruptly stopped his praying! There was no God! Dean had been right about that! Again!

"We're optimist."

"Thank you." Sam couldn't say anything else and he'd been the receiver of far too many bad news like this, not that they ever got easier!

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you any better news. You can wait in his room if you want."

Dean was in the bed, with the head of the bed raised so it seemed like he was half seated and would open his eyes any moment! Like he wasn't in a coma, completely out of this world! But Sam couldn't mistake him for being asleep or anything else! The electrodes attached to his head and the oxygen cannula under his nose left no room for wrong assumptions. Dean was clearly in a coma and his brain activity seemed very low if you asked Sam. He felt at a loss; he'd called Cas many times since they'd arrived to the hospital, left him messages, telling him Dean needed him and that they were in a hospital, but so far there was no trace of the angel.

Sam lowered himself to a chair next to Dean's bed and studied him.

"So, here we are again." He said to his unconscious brother. "It's my fault. I should've realized you had a concussion; I should've made sure you were alright."

"Ah," A nurse said behind him which caused Sam to Jump. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." She smiled kindly.

Sam tried to smile, even though it turned out to be more of a grimace.

"I just wanted to say it's not always easy to notice the severity of a head injury." She said as she checked Dean's vitals and wrote something on his chart.

"He banged his head pretty bad; I should've done something."

"Has he had any concussion before?"

Sam sighed. "Many."

"There you go. With every concussion that one suffers the risk of -" she suddenly stopped, seeing the forlorn look in Sam's eyes. "Sorry. I just mean you can't blame yourself or him for not noticing sooner. And don't give up on him. His chances are good."

Sam didn't even try to smile, he just nodded and studied Dean again; he hadn't missed what the nurse had been saying before stopping; he knew the chances of permanent injury went up after each head trauma and although each time they died and came back to life they seemed to get a clean slate in the health department, they both had suffered a lot of head injuries since the last time they'd died. And wasn't it creepy that thinking about dying over and over again didn't weird him out anymore?

"I'll pray for him." The nurse said before leaving them alone and Sam heaved a weary sigh at that thought; only if people knew their prayers would never be heard because the one who was supposed to listen has abandoned them! His feelings were still too raw and he was too cynical after his last failed attempt to pray to God! Once again God had let them down while his biggest enemy, Lucifer had heard his prayer and had tricked him for his naiveté.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. He remembered when these all had started he'd seen a reaper who'd promised him that she'd make sure if any of them died again she'd make sure they couldn't come back to life!

"Crap." He leaned forward and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "You gotta come back, man. Wake up. You know what Billie said; I can't lose you."

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As minutes turned into hours and hours turned into days, Dean's doctor started to worry and Sam could clearly see it as he talked with other specialists about Dean's condition. At last, they decided to change Dean's medications one last time and if that didn't work either, they'd need to cut his head open and see if there was something else preventing him from waking up; something that was showing in his scans and MRIs.

Sam wasn't sure why or how he ended up back in the Oak Park Retirement home, but sometime during his desperate moments, he'd gone back to Mildred, hoping she'd say something to give him some much needed hope and at the end, Mildred had convinced him to take her to the hospital.

"Oh, honey." She whispered brokenly once she caught the look of Dean. "I'm so sorry."

"Mildred, no! It wasn't your fault." Sam assured her quickly; regretting ever bothering her with their problems.

"But if you haven't come to our rescue Dean would've been alright."

"It's our job, Mildred. And Dean would never shrink from it if he can help it."

"You two are so sweet, but still-"

"Hey, you helped us get that thing; you saved Dean's life when you used the symbol. If anything, we should thank you." Sam squeezed her shoulder. "I just needed to talk to someone and that's why I came to you."

"You did the right thing. And maybe it'd help Dean to hear a new voice."

"Yeah, my voice has become hoarse for sure." Sam chuckled.

"Why don't you go and get some rest? And take a shower while you're out."

"Do I look that bad?"

She smiled kindly. "Oh, honey; you and your brother are probably incapable of looking bad." she chuckled. "I just wanna talk to him alone now that he can't protest." She winked at him.

"Might wake him up; who knows." Sam chuckled. "I'll be back in an hour."

"Well, it's just you and me. You can open your eyes, honey." Mildred said to Dean as she sat at the edge of Dean's bed, holding his hand. "No? OK. How about I put my hand on your leg?" She did as she'd told. "Oh, wait, you're wearing a gown, I could just push the sheet aside and ogle your body." This time she didn't follow her words. "Come on, open your eyes and tell me to stop." Sighing she moved a little and put her hand on Dean's face. "I'm so sorry, honey. Don't get me wrong, I'm so glad you came and saved us all; you are a true hero, but you shouldn't be the one paying the price. Your brother is so worried about you and so am I. You need to wake up and save the world; and follow your heart and get together with that lucky lady who you are pining for. See, there are so many things you still need to do. Although, I think the nurses in this ward are happy to have something so gorgeous to look at for a change." She giggled. "But I don't think it's fair to the rest of the world if you decide to just entertain these nurses."

Dean was still unmoving, but Mildred wasn't going to give up. She hadn't gotten to that age without learning how to be stubborn. So for the next two and half hours she talked to the unconscious form of Dean Winchester, telling him about her adventures during her active years and rubbing Dean's arm all along.

Once Sam came back, they talked a bit more, about Dean, about their lives and Sam told her how Dean had always been there for him and how he'd basically been the one raising him, sacrificing so much for him and even the people he didn't know, moving Dean to an even higher place in Mildred's eyes if that was possible. And then Mildred talked, told him that it was great that those two had each other and that everyone was so lucky that such cute boys had stepped up to save the world. They laughed some and shed a tear or two before it was time for Mildred to go back to the Retirement home.

On the way back, they talked about the banshee and once again The old woman apologized on behalf of the whole place that had cause this much distress for the boys and told Sam she didn't understand why she hadn't heard the screams when she'd been the target. Sam told her the same thing Dean had told him, but this time, he didn't believe it. If Mildred had been the target she should've heard something; right?

Well, he couldn't do anything about it just yet and he had more important things to worry about.

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If Sam still believed in God, or even the angels, he would've said that the prayers had been answered; but he hadn't even prayed, so he didn't even think about it when Dean finally showed signs of waking up after 8 days of being in a coma.

Another 35 hours and he was finally coherent enough to be moved out of the ICU.

"You sure know how to take your time." Sam grinned at his brother as he woke up from his nap. Sam wouldn't say it, but every time Dean closed his eyes, Sam would fear the worst and Dean had been taking too many naps in the last 35 hours.

"You look like shit." Dean growled. "At least comb you hair if you're so much against cutting it short."

"Of course this would be your first concern after waking up from an 8 day coma."

Dean had been shocked when he'd been told he'd be unconscious for so long; he didn't think he'd been that bad off and felt bad for putting Sam through something like this, even though he didn't think he could've done anything about it. "That's the first thing I see every time I open my eyes, what do you expect?" He answered.

"Well, think about your own hair; you almost lost them because you were too stubborn to wake up."

"What?"

"'Nother day unconscious and they would've performed a surgery to see what is going on in that head of yours." Sam said it nonchalantly, but it still scared him to think about brain surgery on his brother.

"Ugh, damn those butchers with their scalpels."

"Those butchers saved your life."

"Well, they didn't have to open my head."

"Dean! Your head is intact. Don't worry; no one touched your hair. Well, except the nurse, who under the guise of taking care of you kept stroking your hair, and of course, Mildred."

"Mildred?" Dean frowned. "How did she find out?"

"Ah," Sheepishly, Sam scratched his head. "I might've gone to her."

Dean's brow rose. "Why?"

"Well, you refused to wake up and I needed someone who'd talk back when I spoke."

Dean saw behind Sam's act and sighed. "You OK?"

"I'm not the one who almost died." Sam looked his brother in the eyes. "What happened anyway? How did you end up on the floor of that file room?"

"I don't know what happened. I couldn't sleep so I went to look for a lead on the Darkness; my head was hurting, but I didn't think I'll need 8 days of sleep."

"Well, apparently you did. Next time, would you just reconsider, though."

Dean smiled slightly. "You need to rest, Sam."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, sure."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I still don't get it."

Dean frowned, waiting to see what Sam was talking about.

"Why did the banshee go after you?"

"That again?" Dean rolled his eyes and winced with pain. "Told you, must've been self-defense."

"But I talked to Mildred and she hadn't heard a thing. So, you must've been the target." Sam pointed out.

"Well, it must've seen my gold blade before choosing to go after Mildred and changed its target."

Sam didn't look convinced, but the pain lines and the way Dean blinked repeatedly told him that he wasn't up for more. "Maybe, I don't know. You get some rest and well, wake up in a couple of hours, huh?"

"You'd better get some shut-eye yourself." Dean's eyelids were already drooping.

"Mildred will wanna see you now that you're awake. So I might bring her here next time you wake up."

"Don't bother her." Dean said sleepily.

"She threatened me, Dean. I think I don't have a choice."

Dean snorted and finally fell into a sleep; lines of pain, and probably worry evident around his mouth and eyes.

Sam sat there and watched him sleep, happy that those nerve-racking electrodes and the oxygen cannula were gone and worried about the fact that for some reason his brother was so vulnerable that a banshee had chosen him as a target even though in that single room there were so many better candidates. He thought that even he himself was a better target after his encounter with Lucifer and losing all his hope that God might help them. The thought that something could've hurt Dean so much that he was even more vulnerable scared Sam and for the millionth time in his life, he wondered how Dean managed to look fine on the outside and still smile even when something was gnawing at his soul, leaving him broken and vulnerable on the inside. His brother's strength never ceased to amaze him, but he wished he could find out what was bothering Dean and help him in a way.

He knew he should find the right question if he wanted the right answer from Dean and he hoped he could find that question before it was too late. After the whole banshee thing, he'd realized that being let down by God and suffering from Lucifer's presence might not be the worst things in the world; maybe he needed to let go of those thoughts so he could be there for Dean. He needed to show Dean that he was actually fine enough to shoulder some of the burdens Dean was carrying every day. He'd meant it when he said he couldn't lose Dean.

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.. FIN ...

A/N: Let me know what you think.

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And of course, all mistakes are mine and I don't own the characters.