Disclaimer: Dean, Sam and any characters from the TV show Supernatural do not belong to me in any way (sadly). I am just playing with the characters and paying homage to the truly great series that is Supernatural. This story is written purely for enjoyment, with no profit of any kind expected, intended or desired.

~o0o~

The sequel to 'Lost'

The boys had a bit of a whumping at the end of 'Lost'

so we'll start 'Found' with some comfort.

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Found

Chapter One

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Dean opened his eyes just once before he was swept away from Sam's side. They had already unloaded him from the helicopter, were settling him on the gurney, when his fingers twitched in his brother's grasp.

Sam's head turned quickly. The stretcher lay in a warm patch of sun between the dark shadows of the helicopter and the hospital buildings. The sunlight seemed to pool in the green eyes fixed on his own, highlighting the golden flecks suspended in their endless depths. Dean's gaze was full of recognition and warmth, a look rarely bestowed on anyone but his little brother.

Sam smiled at him, tightening his grip on the cold fingers. "Hey..." he said softly. "I'm here. I'm gonna be right here, all the time, okay?"

A little crinkle appeared at the corner of Dean's eyes, the smile hidden beneath the oxygen mask. Their gazes locked for a couple of seconds, then his brother winked, a lazy, cheeky little flick that was so very Dean. The crinkles smoothed, the eyelids slid shut and he was gone again, slipping back into unconsciousness.

Minutes later he was wheeled away at speed, heading for emergency surgery. Sam jogged after him until he was turned aside at a set of double doors, told where to wait and given a sheaf of forms to complete. He flopped on the nearest chair, knees suddenly like jelly.

"Just breathe," he told himself. "Breathe, get yourself together, fill in the goddamn paperwork and then wait. That's what you do, wait. Every time. Wait, 'cos there's nothing else you can do."

.

The first few hours slipped by until Sam found himself slumped on a hard chair next to his brother's bed. His mind was buzzing… a subdural haemotoma, quietly bleeding away in Dean's head since the car accident, had so nearly taken his brother away from him.

Dean was silent, pale, heavily sedated. The only evidence of the hole drilled in his skull was the white dressing above his hairline. It would be a while before he had enough hair to spike in his favored style.

The haemotoma had been drained successfully, according to the surgeon. Sam was left, fiercely clutching pamphlets on traumatic brain injury, after effects, side effects, ct scans, MRI scans. He was exhausted, unable to process anything further, just grateful in a numb sort of way that they actually had valid insurance cards for once. At the time, his impulse purchase after a rare paid job had not gone down well with his brother, but right now they were worth ten times their weight in gold.

.

Predictably, after hours of keeping watch, Sam had fallen asleep by the time Dean woke. The first thing he focussed on properly was his little brother's shaggy mop of brown hair, resting like a scruffy, sleeping animal on the covers by his arm. He smiled a little, fondly. He felt loopy with meds, but actually better than he had for a while.

Everything was back in place in his memories, the ones from his time of amnesia strangely detached, as though they belonged to a stranger. Sam, poor dude, he thought, getting a clear memory of his brother's look of disbelief as Dean pointed a gun at him.

He went to reach out, wanting to ruffle the mop of hair, but found his hand was trapped, wrapped around by long warm fingers. Oddly the last thing he remembered was Sam holding his hand on the stretcher under the whumping noise of the helicopter's slowing vanes. He wondered if he'd let go at all since that time, well apart from when he'd been in surgery. The various attached IVs and monitors, combined with a numb feeling in his skull, suggested something invasive had occurred. The meds must be good, he thought, feeling only a hint of a headache. He considered wriggling his hand out of Sam's grasp, but found he didn't want to let go of the anchor holding him to reality just as surely as Jess had anchored him in his failing body.

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He must have fallen asleep shortly afterwards, waking for a second time to a view of Sam's big hazel eyes staring at him from a tired face wrinkled with worry and relief. I gotta take care of Sam more, he thought sleepily, at this rate he's gonna worry himself to death.

"Hey…" Sam smiled at him. "You're back."

Dean smirked at him; he could feel the steady thump of the pulse in his brother's wrist against the back of his thumb. "Dude, you gonna let go?" He wriggled his fingers a little, still smiling. Sam looked flustered, almost embarrassed, pulling his hand away and flexing the fingers as though they had gone numb.

"Dean," he said, voice hoarse. "Are you okay, you er… know who I am and everything?"

"Course I know you man, you're my pain in the ass little brother." Sam's eyes filled with tears. Dean reached out and grasped his arm. "Buddy, hey, come on, I'm okay. It's all gonna be okay."

Sam shook his head soundlessly, dashed at his eyes. "You died. You died…" His voice was broken.

"Well I'm not dead now." He patted Sam's arm, wishing he could sit up and give him a hug. "Jess saved me dude. I'm not gonna go die after that." He found to his surprise that he was actually determined not to die, as though it would be kind of rude.

Sam rubbed his eyes again, gave him a watery smile, enough of a smile to at least show some teeth; a good sign, Dean decided.

He relaxed into his pillow, feeling suddenly exhausted. It must have shown on his face because Sam was there immediately, straightening his pillows, tweaking the sheet.

"I'm okay, Sam, really." His voice was gentle, reassuring. "I'm just tired and kinda doped up y'know. We'll be out of here soon and everything'll be okay."

Sam nodded. "You're gonna have to take it easy for a while dude. We'll go to stay with Bobby for a few weeks, huh?"

"Sure…" Dean's eyes were drooping. He'd agree to anything right now to stop that worried look coming back to Sam's face. "I'll take it easy. Be good to see Bobby anyhow." He yawned.

"Hey." Sam was holding out a glass and a straw. "Have some fluid before you go to sleep." Dean took a few sips, then a few more.

"Thanks Sammy," he whispered sleepily, wondering what he'd do without his little brother.

"You're tired Dean, get some rest." Sam's voice was soft.

"You too dude, you're looking kinda crinkly there."

Sam smirked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Crinkly huh? You should know, being older and all that."

Dean huffed, eyes half shut. Sleep was pulling him down. He yawned again, almost gone, his words blurred with sleep. "Hey, Sam?"

"What?" Sam was leaning over him attentively.

"It was nice. Made me feel safe y'know." It was just a whisper, he wasn't even sure it was audible and he could always blame it on the meds.

Sam was frowning at him, puzzled. Too sleepy to say anything else, Dean waggled his fingers a little, felt them caught in a warm strong grip and fell asleep, smiling as Sam's face split in a grin.

~o0o~

TBC… So, back together properly. There's a long road to recovery and they're Winchesters so the odds are it won't always be a smooth one. More soon…

Thank you for reading. I do appreciate it. If you have time to review, they are always welcome.