A/N: So, one year ago today I posted the first drabble that became this story, I thought it fitting to post this today. Thank you all for reading and reviewing and angsting along with me and the boys! Thanks you TraSan. (The title is from... Well, you geeks will know—TraSan, I'm talking to you!)

Edge

Chapter Forty

All Good Things...

Sam was wrapped in a warm blanket of pain-free comfort when the dark began to recede. He lay there and listened to the sounds around him, letting the world slowly come back. There was a soft beeping to his right, the whisper of air, a television set to an auto-repair show by the sounds of it and a rumbling snore from his left. He took a cautious breath, the medicinal smell of oxygen flowed into his nose. Shifting, he felt the deep pull of stitches, they didn't really hurt, it was more an awareness they were there. They must have him heavily drugged. The sleeper snorted, Sam heard him jerk upright, then mutter under his breath.

"Bobby?" he asked before he opened his eyes. He suspected that it would be a struggle to get them open the first time.

"Sam?" the older hunter's voice was gruff with emotion. "You there?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Bobby. "Hey." His throat ached and his voice sounded scratchy to his ears.

"Hey," Bobby said, relief flooding his face.

"Dean?" He started coughing, Bobby grabbed a cup of water and held it to Sam's lips so he could take a sip. "Thanks."

"Sure." Bobby put the cup down and looked at the end of the bed.

"How's Dean, Bobby?"

"Sam..." Bobby glanced at him, at the window, the TV, the corridor and finally ended up staring at the monitor behind Sam's head.

"Dean, Bobby. Is he dead?"

"No," the older hunter said with a sigh.

Sam waited for more, when Bobby didn't add anything he panic started throbbing in his chest. "What?" he demanded.

"Sam, calm down, boy."

"How's Dean?" Sam snarled, trying to push himself up. His body didn't respond much, only enough to raise his head off the pillow.

"He's... It's not good." Bobby looked at him, grief on his face.

"I need to see him!"

"You need to stay put, you idjit. I thought I'd lost you both, you are going to stay there until the doctor says you can move you ass, your understand me?"

"Bobby, I..."

"No. You have been out for three damn days, Sam, you are not doing anything until you get an all clear. I will check on Dean for you, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Sam said meekly. Bobby rarely lost his temper like that, and Sam knew it was only motivated by affection. "Can you go now?"

"I will, I was going to go get coffee anyway. Stay here."

"I will."

"Give me your word."

"Bobby..."

"Uh huh, I thought so. Give me your word, Sam."

"I'll stay, promise."

"Thanks."

Sam watched Bobby leave the room, a few minutes later a nurse came in and checked on him. The TV was droning on about replacing a head gasket; he watched it for a moment, worry for Dean pulsing through his body. He was actually considering breaking his word to Bobby and going to find Dean when he drifted off to sleep.

Bobby's voice woke him sometime later. The older man was speaking with someone, Sam caught his brother's name and tried to focus on what was being said. He could tell from the tone in their voices something was seriously wrong. Before he could ask was going on, he heard footsteps leaving the room. Opening his eyes, he discovered he was alone. "Bobby?" he called softly, no one answered. Sam was halfway to sitting up when Bobby appeared in the door.

"What the hell are you doing?" the hunter demanded with a growl.

"I need to check on Dean."

"I told you I would let you know," Bobby said, coming into the room and pushing Sam back into bed.

"Well?"

"He's still alive."

"But?"

"Sam, he was torn up pretty bad, even before what happened in the OR. The surgeon was injured and we had to wait for another to come, so Dean had to wait. It's not good."

"Is the creature gone?"

Bobby chuckled. "Yep."

"What's funny?"

"Oh, the staff is calling it 'the incident' like it was something they could explain, not a wolverine attacking people. You done good," Bobby said gently.

"Why didn't tell me it would grow?"

"Grow?"

"As soon as I hit it with the flames, it started growing. Right before it disappeared it was at least fifteen feet. It was hunched over, on all fours, but its shoulder was brushing the ceiling."

"I didn't know, Sam," Bobby said sincerely. "I didn't see anything like that in the lore. I'll look into it."

"When can I see Dean?"

"I spoke with your doctor, he said you could go in the morning." Bobby raised his hand to stop the protest before Sam could voice it. "You need more sleep."

"But..." Sam tried to fight the yawn that was starting.

"Sleep. If anything happens, Sam, I'll wake you."

"'Kay." Sam closed his eyes and was asleep before Bobby could say anything more.

The hospital smelled like bacon and coffee as Bobby rolled Sam down the corridor to Dean's room. Sam felt stronger. The stitches were starting to ache and they'd already backed his pain medication off, he took it as a good sign. The doctor had come in and spoken to him about recovery time and the extent of his injuries. Bobby had listened like the concerned uncle he was supposed to be and assured the doctor that he was already making plans for him and Dean to stay with him. That's when the doctor's face changed. He looked grave and shook his head, before cautioning Bobby to keep an eye on Sam and let them go to Dean's room.

The door was open when they got there and Bobby pushed him into the room, stopping the wheelchair by the bed. Oh god, Dean. Sam reached out and put his hand on his brother's arm, needing the contact, suspecting Dean might need it, too. For all his grumbles on the subject, Dean was the physical one and that contact had helped keep Sam anchored most of his life—a head slap, a punch, leaning against the Impala, their shoulders touching—it kept him going even when things looked hopeless.

"Bobby? Can I have a minute?"

"Sure, Sam. I'll get a cup of coffee." Bobby gave his shoulder a squeeze and quietly left the room.

Sam felt tears burn in his eyes. "Hey, Dean. Sorry I wasn't here sooner, Bobby wouldn't let me come until now. I'm okay," he added quickly, knowing what Dean would think if he could hear the statement. "You were right, Arf was here. Bobby thinks she wanted to mate with you. You can really pick them, you know?" The tears broke loose and started down his cheeks. "Dean, please..." he whispered. "Please hang on."

XXX

It was the best day he'd had in a long time. Just a day to relax and enjoy things—things in this case being the long-legged brunette currently sunbathing on the river bank. She'd chosen a place beside a deep pool and the water made a soft whooshing sound as it ran around a boulder at the edge of the pool. Dean was stretched out on a large flat rock, the sun warming him. It wasn't the best place to rest, the stone had several sharp pieces that were digging into his leg and back, but all-in-all it was okay. He sighed a little, listening to the water and the soft breeze, there were birds singing in the distance with an odd, very regular cheep. He could hear the murmur of voices from further down the river, muted by all the other sounds of the day.

The woman noticed him and smiled before she stood and stretched, he watched appreciatively and she walked slowly towards him, hips swaying her shaggy fur cape catching the sun and lighting up like a halo.

Shaggy fur cape?

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of his rock, a sharp piece of the stone jabbing his ankle as he did. She'd slowed down, taking her own sweet time to get to him. He smiled at her, she grinned back, long teeth sparkling in the bright light.

Long teeth?

She stopped in front of him, making a soft purring sound deep in her throat, the smile lighting her eyes, inviting Dean to fall into them and just stay there. She raised a hand and raked her sharp brown nails through his hair.

Sharp brown nails?

"You're Arf, aren't you?" he asked her. And why, oh why, were all the hot girls freaks?

"Arf?" Her voice had a deep growl to it. "Yes, I guess I am." She laughed, the sound purring through her.

"Great."

"But Dean, you bit me," she pouted.

"You bit me first."

"I did."

"Dean!" Sam called from somewhere.

"Coming, Sammy," he yelled back. "I've got to go."

"Go where?" She looked around the forest, at the light dancing on the water. "Wouldn't you rather stay here?" She leaned forward to whisper her name in his ear.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can." She moved even closer, the warmth of her skin radiating through his jeans.

"Am I dead?" he asked, suddenly understanding what was going on.

"No, not yet."

"Is my brother dead?" Knowing staying there depended on the answer to that question.

"No."

"Then I can't stay, I need to go back."

"Please stay."

"No, I can't, not now."

"Will you come back?" She asked, tears gathering in her bottomless eyes.

Dean looked around the quiet forest, breathing in the smell of water and pine trees, of fallen leaves and sunshine warming the earth. "Maybe."

She sighed and nodded sadly, running her hand over his face one last time, before turning and walking away. He watched her, part of him wanting to follow. He took a deep breath, aware of thirst burning in his throat and laid back down on the rock, glancing up and the sky before he closed his eyes, the sounds of the forest around him as he drifted off.

The birds were still chirping as he woke, it took a moment for his brain to catch up and identify the noise not as animals, but the beeping of a monitor. The sound of the wind the hiss of air, the breeze on his face coming from the canula in his nose. The warmth on his hand wasn't sunlight, but the heavy weight of a hand.

"What did he say?" Sam said, his voice weary beyond words, grief so present in the tone it made Dean's throat ache.

"Sam, they," Bobby began, then stopped and cleared his throat.

"Oh," Sam whispered. "No, Bobby." Sam took a breath, Dean heard the hitch of pain and something else, which was so not good.

"Sam."

"No," Sam growled.

The desperation in his brother's voice spurred Dean to action, he tried to open his eyes, only to find them stuck close. He changed the plan of attack, focusing everything he had into his hand, willing it to move. After something that felt like days, his fingers started to move. It wasn't much, he hoped it was enough.

"Dean?"

"Sam?" Bobby said, his voice gruff with concern.

"Dean?" Sam said again. Dean's hand was moved so it was palm up. "Are you there?"

Dean took a deep breath and concentrated. This time he managed to get his hand to close around Sam's. He heard his brother's sharp intake a breath, then Sam's hand tightened on his, the other closing around it as well, the rough texture of bandages under his finger. With another deep breath, he tried to force his vocal chords into action. "Sam?"

"Dean? Hey, can you open your eyes?"

"What's happening, Sam?" Bobby asked.

"He's there, Bobby, his hand moved."

"Sam, you're imaging things, I'm sorry, but..." Bobby said gently.

"No, he's there. Dean? Can you open your eyes? Please?"

He could picture Sam's face, that tight squinch between his eyebrows, tears filling his eyes, making the lid red and probably the puppy-look, the one that Dean was sure could get anyone to do anything anywhere if used correctly. Coming, Sammy, give me a minute. With more effort than he would ever have thought possible, he managed to get his eyelids into motion. At first only a tiny sliver of light was present. He ground his teeth together and got them the rest of the way open. He didn't risk blinking, for fear they wouldn't open again, instead he turned them towards his brother—and he'd been right, the exact look he'd pictured was there on Sam's face.

"Hey, man," Sam said with a sigh of relief, a smile lighting his face and dimpling his cheeks.

"Sam?"

"I'm okay, Dean," his brother answered, knowing the question before it was really asked. "He's awake," Sam said to a doctor that came into the room.

The doctor came over to the bed, muttering under his breath as he checked Dean. "He is," the doctor said finally.

"I am," Dean whispered.

Sam grinned at him, then frowned at the doctor, the look fierce. "I told you," Sam said quietly.

Oh, I bet he did. Dean had been on the receiving end of that quiet, firm voice more than once. And really, his brother was a pain in the ass when he was right. Not that he is ever so rude as to remind you, once an hour, every day for a freaking month. No, that wouldn't be fair. If he'd felt better he would have chuckled, instead he settled for a blink. His eyelids seemed heavy when he opened them again.

"Sleep, I'll be here, Dean," Sam said, tossing another look at the doctor—and Bobby.

"Mmm," Dean said, blinking, only this time his eyes refused to open. He decided to listen to Sam, not wanting that frown turned on him, and let himself drift into sleep.

The scent of coffee wormed its way into his sleep, he took a deep breath, enjoying the rich smell and opened his eyes—they opened easily and he looked up at sunlight on the tiled ceiling. The TV was on a documentary about mega-disasters, the narrator talking about Yellowstone Park. He rolled his eyes to the right, Sam was sitting beside the bed, a paper cup in his bandaged hands.

"Sam?" Dean said, his voice barely audible.

"Dean!" Sam turned to him with a smile.

"Coffee?"

"I don't think..." Sam glanced at the door, an odd look crossing his face. "Sure, a sip can't hurt." He slid a hand behind Dean's head and held the cup so he could sip. The coffee was exactly the right temperature and even though it was a little sweeter than Dean usually took his own coffee, the sweetness tasted good, easing the burned feeling in the back of his throat. "Better?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, thanks." He looked around the room, happy when his muscles responded and his head moved. "Where are we?"

"The tri-cities, Washington. It was the closest hospital with any kind of trauma care."

"We were in a helicopter."

"Yeah, we were."

"Arf! She was here!" Dean said as memory started to trickle in.

"She was."

"Sammy, we have to..." Dean struggled to sit up, Sam stopped him with a hand on his chest, shifting so he could sit on the edge of the bed.

"It's okay, Dean, I took care of it."

"You took care..." Dean paused, vaguely remembering Arf in the OR, the attack on the doctor and Sam there. He sniggered.

"What?"

"Did you do her in with the moon?"

"The moon?" Sam frowned for a moment, then smiled sheepishly remembering his arrival in the OR in the open-backed hospital gown. He shook his head. "How did you remember that?"

"Did you think I wouldn't?"

"Of everything that happened, yes, that would be the thing you remember." Sam grinned at him, then the smile faded, replaced but that small Sammy frown, tears playing at the corner of his eyes.

"Sammy?" He covered his brother's hand, where it rested on his chest, with his own.

"Nine days, Dean, six since I woke up."

"Six since you? You were out three days?" Dean nearly shouted, a cough stopping him at the last moment. "You said you were okay."

"I am, the doc said it was mostly exhaustion."

"Uh huh." Dean frowned at him, trying his best 'fess up, Sam' look. His brother remained unmoved, a tear starting down his cheek. "And?" There had to be more for that shattered look.

"They said you weren't going to make it. Right before you woke up, in fact, they said it was just a matter of hours probably." Sam cleared his throat. "I told them they were wrong."

"Sure. What happened?"

"The wolverine..."

"Arf, Sammy," he corrected.

"Fine." Sam sighed. "Arf. It..."

"She."

"She," Sam huffed. "She was summoned at some point, not even related to us."

"Our luck, eh, Sam? Right place, right time."

"Yeah, luck, Dean. Anyway, she followed us here."

"Because I bit her."

"How did you know?"

"She told me."

"She..." Sigh. "Told you?"

"Yeah, she did. She also didn't apologize for anything she did. What a bitch," Dean said, trying for a chuckle. It didn't work, Sam squinched at him. "What is it?"

"Bobby thinks she still might want you to go with her."

"I know, Sam, but not for awhile, and you'll figure it out before then." Sleep was starting to creep up on him again.

"Yeah, Dean, I will." Sam smiled, the tears still there, but the smile reached his eyes.

"When do we get to leave?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes open.

"Not for a couple of days, there's a hot nurse on night shift that wants to meet you before we go."

"Hot chicks all want me, Sammy."

"Yeah, don't bite her."

"Not on the first date."

"I don't even want to know." Sam laughed softly. "Get some more sleep."

"Okay, more coffee."

"I'll make sure there's some here."

"Thanks. Sammy?" He pressed his hand against his brother's letting his fingers curl around Sam's hand.

"Yeah, Dean. Me, too."

Dean sighed. They made it. They'd actually made it out alive.

Epilogue

The sun was bright when Sam wheeled Dean out of the hospital a week later. Sam had been released several days before—over Dean and Bobby's objections—but the doctor had given him the all-clear and he was tired of nurses hovering over him every time he moved out of his bed to sit beside Dean's. There had been no sign of the wolverine, Bobby had even driven up to the place where they'd wrecked and could find no trace of the creature. He had found what he thought was the site of the original ritual and had done his best to cleanse the site—neither he or Sam was sure they needed to, but they weren't going to take any chances.

"Hey, girl, miss me?" Dean addressed the car as Sam stopped the wheelchair beside the passenger door. "Wrong side, Sammy."

"You aren't driving, Dean," Sam said, locking the brakes.

"Sam..."

"No, Dean. It's bad enough I'm letting your brother drive. You are going to stay put, hear me?" Bobby growled.

"Yes, sir." Dean grinned at him, Bobby scowled back and muttered something under his breath. "What was that?"

"I said get in the car so we can get out of here. When you need a break, you call, and if you haven't called in an hour, I'll pull off."

"Okay, Bobby," Sam said agreeably.

"Yeah, you better." Bobby stomped off towards his car.

"He's in a good mood," Dean said as Sam helped him into the car.

"It was better last night." Sam laughed and walked around the car, dropping into the driver's seat and turning on the ignition, the car roared to life. "What?" his brother asked when Dean sighed.

"It's good to be back in my baby."

"Your baby?" Sam looked over, his eyebrows in his bangs.

"The car?"

"I know what you're talking about, but it's not your baby anymore."

"It's not?" Dean asked. Sam was up to something.

"No, you gave it to me."

"Oh, I so did not."

"You so did."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Not.

"So."

"No way."

"Way."

"I think I would remember that, Sammy."

"You said you would give your car up for a cup of coffee."

"I didn't..." Oh, I so did.

"You did."

"I was out of my mind at the time. Coffee withdrawl."

"So you admit it?"

"No. I was just saying."

"Maybe I'll give it back, depends on a lot, though."

"You wouldn't." Dean looked over at his brother. Sam was grinning at him. "You would, wouldn't you?" he asked, Sam nodded. "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam answered, starting to laugh. Dean laughed along with him. It was good to be back, heading out, even if it was just to Bobby's. Sam shoved a tape into the stereo, music blasted out of the speakers and Sam turned onto the highway, Bobby's car in view and the sweeping plains of Eastern Washington in front them.

Yep. We made it.

The End

A/N II: Thank you again for coming along with me on this journey! Sending a big hug to you all!