Sam has had his soul back for about a week now, and from Dean's point of view it was going pretty crappy, and Dean couldn't even see what was going on in his brother's head. He had noticed Sam acting differently though; sleeping longer than usual, the faraway stares, the quick look of fear in his eyes that dissipated so fast when Sam knew Dean was looking, that he thought he had imagined it. He only wished.

Death warned him not to scratch the wall, but it seemed that was exactly what Sam was doing.

Why couldn't his little brother just listen for once?

But it didn't matter. Sam probably couldn't help but sit there and ponder over the things he might have done. Mostly for the fact that Dean and Bobby had been playing mother hen ever since Sam had woken up. They didn't take him anywhere, did everything for him, and didn't leave him alone in room save for the bathroom (which Sam was silently thankful for).

They didn't know what to expect, and for that reason, they expected everything.

They had experienced Sam's withdrawal fit in the panic room, though they had hoped it wouldn't be as extreme as those times. Thankfully it wasn't, but what they got seemed just as painful as hearing the younger brother's screams. Silence. Sam barely said a word all day, every day. When asked a question he would answer in the shortest possible way with "yes", "no", or sometimes even just a hum of recognition. Dean was pulling his hair out with worry.

It was a little over a week when Dean finally had it.

"Hey, you've been cooped up in here for quite awhile, wanna go for a drive?"

Sam's eyes lit up for the first time in what felt like months. But it was soon clouded over with confusion. Sure Dean liked driving his car, more than could be healthy, but he'd never just offered to just take Sam on a drive.

"What for?" Sam asked in genuine curiosity.

This was a shock to Dean. He'd expect Sam to be itching to get out of Bobby's old house so bad that he'd be practically leaping in the 67'. "Well I just thought maybe you'd like a change of scenery, that's all." he said in a light tone.

Sam didn't really buy it. He could tell Dean was worried, but there was nothing he could really do about that but give Dean a win this one time.

"Alright" Was all he said before getting up to go get on his coat and shoes.

Dean sat there dumbfounded for a second. Since when has Sam just gave in without a fight like that? He couldn't decide if that was good or not, but he'll take it.

He left a note for Bobby incase he came back from wherever he went off to before they did, and then followed Sam out to the car.

The first 20 minutes or so had been uneventful. Sam stared out the window, and Dean kept his eyes on the road with occasional glances to check on his brother.

It was about 5 minutes after that that he noticed Sam was a bit pale and had a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"You feeling ok?" He asked as nonchalantly as possible.

His question was answered when Sam's eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp against the car door.

"Sam?!"

He pulled the car off the road and jumped out, then scrambled around the front of the car to the passenger side.

He opened the door and had to catch Sam from falling in the dirt.

Sam was shaking now, like he was having a seizure. Hell, he probably was; Death didn't exactly give the side effects when he said not to "scratch it".

"Sam? Sam come on buddy don't do this, please."

Sam stopped seizing; Dean let out a breathe of relief.

But then Sam stopped breathing, and the panic was back again.

"No no no no, Sam! Sam, please. Sam!" Dean was frantically shaking him by the shoulders now.

He couldn't lose him, he just got him, the real him, back. Sam wasn't supposed to go out like this, not something this minor. Sam was supposed to go do something heroic for a world that never gave a damn about him, and Dean was to mourn. That's what he did when Sam threw himself into the pit. He cried, he had night terrors, would wake up in the middle of the night screaming, but he had time to prepare. The planned on Sam's sacrifice, but this was all too sudden.

The guilt started setting in. This was all his fault. Even Sam himself warned him that this could kill him, but of course he didn't listen. He didn't care what happened, he just wanted his brother back, and he was just now realizing that that was one of the most selfish things he's ever done.

Dean couldn't take it. He started beating Sam's chest.

He couldn't be dead, he just couldn't.

It must have been some miracle, but after Dean was just about to stop trying, Sam woke up and started gasping for breath.

"Sam? Oh thank God. Ok, not the best choice of words but you know what I mean."

He sat him up against the car to let him catch his breath.

"Sam, you with me? How many fingers am I holding up?"

Sam looked over and then croaked out "Four". He was holding up two.

"Not quite, Sammy, but that's ok. I'll take you not being dead over your counting skills."

"Dead?" Sam asked, a bit confused.

Dean scratched the back of his head. "Uh, yeah. You kind of blacked out and stopped breathing, do you remember anything?"

Sam thought for a minute. "We went for a drive, and then it got too hot…"

It wasn't hot in the car, but Dean still should have noticed his brother's discomfort sooner.

"I'm sorry, buddy. Tell you what; we get back, you go take a nap, and I'll check out Baby's AC. Ok?"

The thought of sleeping sounded like heaven to Sam. "Ok" was all he could say, though.

Dean then helped him up, he was pretty unsteady on his feet, and helped him back into his seat.

The drive back was smooth. Sam sat back in his seat and Dean, again, kept an eye on both his brother and the road.

The arrived back, Bobby was home. He met them outside when they pulled up, and started berating Dean with questions when he saw Sam so out of it. Dean explained everything that happened, as they carried Sam into the house and laid him down on the couch. He was asleep almost instantly.

"You think he'll be ok, Bobby?"

Bobby sighed, "I don't know, son. But I think he's at least got a fighting chance with you around."

Bobby then gave him a pat on the back, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Dean looked down at his little brother, looking so innocent in the bliss of sleep.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam. If you need me to get better, I'll be here next to you every second until you do."

Dean was about to turn and ask Bobby to bring him a beer when he heard Sam shift on the couch. He heard Sam say something, it was almost inaudible, but he heard it.

"Love you too, Dean"

Dean smiled, and for the first time in awhile had a sense that maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok.