Well this is it, the last chapter.

Thank you - to all those who have kept with me and read and to even more thanks to those who have reviewed. It is good and encouraging to know that people are enjoying the story. I have few other stories which I shall be posting in due course and I hope that you will join me for those too.

Thanks again to you all.

Steffs

Chapter 18

Three days, it had been three days before they let him have solid food and then it was hospital cuisine. Jell-o wasn't on Dean's list of substantial stomach filling comestibles but for the first day it was all he'd been able to keep down that and soup. However nobody seemed to have got the memo that he was feeling better and for the last two days he'd been presented with Jell-o or soup as his main course; neither of which in Dean's book counted as a square meal. Someone, a someone who never knew how close to death they'd come, had offered him a Granola bar but had quickly withdraw when Dean had growled at him.

In desperation Dean had called Bobby more than once to come spring them both but the hunter had told him that he was an idjit and a moron for even thinking about leaving until he was at least able to sit up unaided and that he, Bobby was not gonna drive halfway across the country because Dean needed his ass wiped. Dean'd had shut the phone off on a still muttering Bobby with more than a sneaking suspicion that Sam had got there before him and poisoned the ground.

He stretched up as far as the burn in his chest would allow and tried to see out through the observation window. The mouth-watering aroma that always accompanied the food cart had wafted his way over half an hour ago and he'd heard the chink and clink of plates and cutlery but so far nothing had arrived. His pathetic eagerness for the chicken and rice he'd ticked on the menu card was embarrassing along with the slight whoop he'd let out when no one had objected to his choice but food was food and anything had to be better than green jell-o.

For about the nth time in the last half-hour Dean wondered where the hell Sam was. His brother had been a constant presence, hovering over him, tucking him in passing him stuff and reading aloud from some boring magazine. Confirming forever Dean's belief that his brother was a closet girl but now when he could be really useful and go get Dean's meal, Sam was nowhere to be seen.

It was hospital policy that Dean remained on the Thoracic Ward and Sam on a General Ward and no amount of charm on Dean's side or restrained anger on Sam's would persuade the ward sisters to bend the rules and put them together. So despite the fact that Sam's feet were in a mess and he was still running a low grade fever, every day he'd demanded that he was wheeled up to Dean where he stayed until the nightshift insisted that he returned to his own room.

Actually it was at Dean's insistence that Sam had gone back to his own bed for Doctors rounds. His brother put a brave face on things but Dean had seen a hot flushed Sam wince more than once as he shifted in his wheelchair and he was worried that the youngest Winchester was pushing himself too much. Sam had protested but Dean pulled the big brother card and watched as his sibling wheeled himself away to submit to an examination.

Checking the clock Dean frowned it was five after one. Doctors rounds were always in the morning, Sam should have been back. Dean's irritation at his brother's non-appearance morphed into concern. He felt around, found his cell under his pillow and pressed the speed dial for Sam. It went straight to voice-mail. He tried again, still voice-mail. Pressing the red telephone symbol Dean rubbed his thumb over the key mulling over his options.

Throwing back the light coverlet and tugging down the cotton hospital gown to his knees Dean eased himself forward holding his breath. It didn't help; as soon as he turned his upper body pain ricocheted around his ribcage. Gasping, holding his side Dean swallowed back an expletive and held himself still waiting for the spiking ache to subside. He was tired of the pain, this s**t was getting really, really old and all he wanted was to be out of this goddamned torture palace but it was obvious even to him that if he couldn't get up off the bed he wasn't going to make it to the door let alone Sam's room.

Dean tried to lean back but his nest of pillows had rearranged themselves leaving nothing supporting his head and it felt awkward and uncomfortable. Trying to shift without causing himself more pain, caused more pain and again he had to suck in his breath and blink back the tears as torturous spears of hurt lanced up his side.

He gave himself a few minutes and shifted again.

"F**k."

This time waves of nausea accompanied the knifing agony and Dean breathing heavily felt sweat droplets running down his face and neck. Now he was stuck whatever he did and however, whichever way he moved he was gonna regret it.

Where the hell was Sam?

Muscles began to tremble as Dean tried to hold his position, chewing on his lip he was in the midst of a tentative roll when the door hissed open behind him. S**t he couldn't reverse and his hospital gown was barely covering the essentials.

"Here we are last but not least." A male voice, not Sam's, breezed into the room. A plate or something was dashed onto the overbed table and "Oh," then a pause, "You okay?…you want me to fetch someone?"

"No." The reply was a little too fast and Dean tried to turn a little too quickly to cover himself up. With a soft groan he collapsed his arms giving way tipping him forward to unceremoniously faceplant the bed ass in the air.

"Oh hey..." Hands, gentle but firm pulled at him, supporting him but Dean struggled against the hurt and humiliation. He didn't want help, except that he did; the weakness that had affected the muscles in his arms seemed to have infected the rest of his body making it useless and the pain kept coming and coming with every little jolt.

Pillows were plumped, sheets straightened and Dean found himself settled comfortably back onto the bed covers pulled up.

"There," the rotund orderly grinned, "…now you can enjoy your dinner," he pushed the table to within Dean's reach. "Anything else?" he looked up expectantly but Dean, cheeks still flamed red, refused to meet his eye. Goddamn it why'd the guy have to be so nice about it when all Dean wanted to do was bitch.

"No…thanks, I'm fine." He managed a mumble and when he did raise his head to his relief the man had gone. His gaze wandered to the plate. It cheered him a little as his stomach grumbled in appreciation of what was about to enter it but on lifting the opaque dome cover his heart sank. Neatly in the centre of the white expanse of plate was laid a round of jell-o, okay not green but bright red and still f**cking jell-o.

Dean pushed the table away in disgust wondering how anyone could recover from anything eating that slop. Sighing he leant back onto the now supportive softness behind him. Hospitals were a necessary evil to a hunter and this one had proved to be very efficient but that didn't mean Dean felt comfortable or easy at being confined to his bed. His eyes closed and fleetingly as the lassitude crept up on him he wondered again, with a prick of concern, where Sam was.

XXxxxxxxxx

Waiting impatiently for the elevator Sam adjusted the bag on his lap. The warmth seeping through the paper and his thin scrubs kept burning his thigh. It had taken him far longer than he'd thought to complete his errand and he'd also overestimated his fitness.

He shifted his chair closer to the metal doors in anticipation of them opening, gripping the cool wheel rim with sore fingers. He'd only propelled the thing down to the front entrance and he was beginning to appreciate how much their trek into the wild had taken out of his body as his muscles throbbed with overexertion.

The doctor had told him only that morning that it would probably take a couple of months for him to regain his strength but Sam had still been determined, even though he was blatantly flouting hospital rules, get this gift for Dean.

The external automatic doors swished open allowing the breeze to brush into the foyer. Sam's sensitive new skin prickled and he shuddered but at that moment the elevator light blinked on and the doors opened with a ping.

Again Sam switched the bag to his other leg then wheeled himself into the small space, turned and leant forward pressing the fifth button up. Glancing at his watch he waited as the elevator sped silently upwards before coming to a halt with a slight jolt. It was a little after one thirty and Sam hoped that Dean wouldn't be creating a fuss because he'd not appeared.

Despite his collapsed lung and other injuries his brother was proving to be a difficult patient. Dean had never liked being pinned down to one place so to be confined to bed for three days with the prospect of at least another two weeks to come had not gone down well. He'd practically yelled at the Doctor but she had merely waited for him to finish before hanging up the clipboard and exiting with a "See you tomorrow," leaving Sam to bear the brunt of Dean's angry frustration.

Several times Dean had tried to get out of bed but the pain had been too much and he'd collapsed back gasping and cursing. Sam knew that his brother had called Bobby because he'd only just managed to give the grizzled hunter the heads up and before Dean was on the other line.

There was no shouting as Sam propelled himself along the corridor, he wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. He bumped the door open and stopped, smiling to himself. Dean was asleep nestled in a pile of pillows, mouth open, snoring slightly a perfect picture of peace. It seemed a shame to wake him but Sam knew that his brother wouldn't mind when he saw that Sam was bearing gifts.

"Dean…Dean…"

"Mmm," Dean's eyes blinked open, "S'mmy? Then more awake. "Where the hell have you been?"

Sam grinned. "Playing Ninja."

"What?"

In answer Sam dumped the warm bag onto his brother's lap. Dean peered at it suspiciously but then his face lit up. "You didn't."

"I did."

Ripping the bag open Dean pulled out and unwrapped …..a deluxe double cheese burger. The grin that spread across his brother's face, made all Sam's efforts worthwhile. Dean was a pig in clover, a six year old in a sweet factory and a jackpot winner all rolled into one. Sam watched indulgently as Dean took a bite and savoured the mouthful, chewing slowly.

"Sam…"

Dean's voice was muffled through burger but Sam still managed to decipher his sibling's words.

"…did I ever tell you that you were the best brother ever."

XXxxxxxxxx

Epilogue

Dean sat on the porch the blanket across his knees keeping him warm enough

in the evening's cooling breeze. Sam lay two feet away dozing on the old sofa, which Bobby had dragged out onto the decking. The elder hunter had said it was so they could get some fresh air but Dean suspected that their friend wanted some space.

The two Winchesters had been 'visiting' now for two weeks and although both were feeling much better they still tired very quickly, Sam's feet still needed dressing every day and Dean couldn't walk more than three yards without getting out of breath.

The hospital had been very reluctant to release him or Sam but Bobby had turned up a week and a half after Dean's surgery, hair slicked back, in a suit and sweet-talked the consultant that he was a model citizen and a veteran with medical expertise. All of which was true but probably not in the way the hospital authorities would have understood if he'd had to explain further.

The screen door slammed and footsteps thudded round the corner bringing the said veteran into view, meds in one hand and three beers in the other.

"Sam…" Dean reached out and lightly smacked his brother awake. "Nurse Rachet..."

Sam sluggishly came round, blinking blindly until he remembered where he was.

"Oh hey Bobby."

Grunting Bobby handed out the pills, then the beers and perched on the arm of the sofa as Sam pushed himself up to sitting. Dean smiled as much to himself as to the others took his pills with a swig of beer and settled back letting his eyes wander once again with much satisfaction over the small pile of ash in the front yard…..

… all that was left of Sam's backpack.

THE END.