A/N: Supernaturalgeek is madly ignoring 5-July—something about a birthday. (She's in the UK which is why this fic is here on the 4th for Americans! I wanted it up so it was there waiting in the morning.) She might try to hide, but like Wendigos birthdays can appear out of nowhere. I also recently discovered that Nana56's birthday is the sixth. I hope they don't mind sharing, they've both been awesome support and good friends. So, I offer this fic to both of them! Nana—Happy Birthday!! And Supernaturalgeek—Happy Birth…uh no special day!
A/N II: This is based on a true story. Really! Only it was a sword that did it to me.
Toe the Line
It was dark, there was a light breeze blowing, rustling the leaves of the trees and carrying the scent of fireworks, flowers and freshly mown grass. It was what Dean often imagined home might smell like. Well except for the fireworks, that's only once a year. The Fourth of July had technically given way to the fifth, but fireworks still burst like giant flowers in the sky, from somewhere to his left he could hear the scream of a bottle rocket.
"I'm going around back, Dean," Sam said quietly.
"Be careful, Sam. I'll head to the basement as soon as I'm in, you case the upstairs."
"Got it." Sam drifted around the back of the house. Dean saw Sam's shadow slip around the corner and he was gone.
Dean walked silently onto the porch, pausing by the door, listening for any sign of movement within. When it remained quiet, he pulled out the key and opened the door. Nice having a key for a change.
The call had come three days before, someone needed help dealing with a "little troublesome pest" as she put it. Opal Leonard was a friend of the family. Dean remembered spending time in her sunshine-yellow kitchen when he was a kid. She knew his weakness for pie and always had one waiting. Dean chuckled, she hadn't changed over the years, except her hair getting steadily whiter. At eighty she was as bright and active as she had been when he'd first met her nearly twenty years before. When he and Sam arrived in town, they met Opal at a local diner. She'd smiled at up at them, made them lean over so she could pat their heads and said they were still good boys. With that, she handed them her keys and said she was going to visit her sister until her "pest" was dealt with.
Dean reminisced as he opened the door. The house still smelled like he remembered it—potpourri and freshly baked bread. When they were kids, he'd told Sam it was an air freshener she bought and Sam had spent hours in stores looking for the right bottle. Dean smiled as he walked through the entryway to the basement stairs.
"Dean?" Sam called softly.
"Here. I'm heading downstairs, it smells wet. You go upstairs and see if anything is there."
"Right, be careful," Sam said from the kitchen door. A second later, Dean heard his brother's footsteps on the back staircase.
Dean flipped the light switch, the lights didn't come on. He started down the steps, listening, alert for any sound. At the bottom of the stairs, he reached for the light switch on the basement wall before stepping off the last step. One light in the bank of twelve came on, the light shimmering off the surface of…
"Shit," Dean said aloud.
"You okay?" Sam's shout came from the kitchen
"Yeah. There's a freaking lake in the freaking basement." Dean sat down on the stairs and took his boots and socks off, then stuck one toe into the water. "It's cold."
"Suck it up, son, you're a Winchester," Sam said from the head of the stairs, doing his imitation of their father's voice.
"Bite me, Sammy." Dean stepped away from the stairs as he heard Sam coming down them.
"So, you think it could be a water nymph?"
"I think it's something that flooded the basement. Only Grandma Opal would have a water nymph in her basement," Dean said, wading through the water. "Go shut off the water to the house."
"Okay, be right back."
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Dean called as he walked through the ankle deep water. Something gurgled by the back wall, he turned his flashlight in that direction, catching the silver flash of something just under the water. Just freaking great.
"Water's off, Dean," Sam said, coming back down the stairs. "Be careful, if it's a nymph she might have booby trapped the place."
Dean's foot bumped into something right as Sam spoke. "Yeah, I think I just found one." Dean flashed his light down, he couldn't see through the murky water, but blood was drifting to the surface. "Huh, doesn't hurt much."
"Get back over here, right now," Sam said calmly.
"I just stubbed my toe, Sam." Dean took another step, his right foot started aching, the toe stinging a little. "Maybe you're right." Dean turned to head back towards the staircase as the nymph made herself known. He felt himself lifted, heard Sam's shout, then he was pulled under the water, his head coming down hard against the floor and with a bright flash, everything went dark.
The dark receded, leaving him with an ache in his head, a burning sensation in his lungs and a stinging throb in his foot.
"Breath, damn it," Sam's voice was harsh, frightened. Dean coughed, expelling a mouthful of water. Sam turned him on his side and pounded his back. Dean continued coughing and gagging until the water was all gone. "Dean?" Sam turned him onto his back.
"Mmm."
"Dean? Answer me." Sam shook him gently.
"I did," Dean grumbled, opening his eyes. One eye didn't want to open all the way. Sam swam into view. His brother was blurry, his eyes reflected concern bordering on actual panic. "Happened?" Dean asked hazily.
"The nymph grabbed you and pulled you under," Sam said calmly. Dean heard a lot in his brother's words, mostly an undercurrent of frantic fear. "She held you under the water."
"A little nymph too much for you, Sammy?"
"Oh, ha ha, Dean. You're the one she dragged under."
"I was distracted by my toe."
"Right," Sam said, getting up. "I need to get something for that cut on your head, it's bleeding."
"Not my head, Sam. My toe. It's my toe." Dean struggled to sit up. Sam shifted so he could look at Dean's toe. "That's not good, is it?" Dean asked, looking at Sam—his brother's face was white. Dean reached out to touch his toe and Sam slapped his hand away. "Just fix it, Sam."
"Fix it? The tip is nearly all the way off, Dean. I can't just fix that."
"Cut it off then." Dean coughed, a little water coming up as he did.
"Dean?" Sam looked at him, eyebrows up, little brother exasperation written in every pore. "I am not going to cut your toe off." Dean opened his mouth, Sam held up a hand. "You aren't either. I'll bandage it and take you to the ER. They can also look at your head while we're there."
"Head?" Dean asked confused.
"You have a big bleeding hole in your head, Dean."
"Do I?" Dean lifted a hand to the sore spot on his scalp. "You sure it's not just wet from the water?"
"Unless water is thick and red, I'm pretty sure it's not water. You might need stitches." Sam got up and walked into the kitchen. Dean realized he was lying at the top of the stairs. "I hope Grandma Opal doesn't mind if I use a paper towel."
"I'm sure this would qualify as justified towel use," Dean said with a smile.
"I don't know," Sam said, carefully flipping the tip of Dean's toe back on top and wrapping it with the towel. "She always says they're for looks, not using and these are really fancy." Sam looked at Dean with a grin. "I guess I'll offer to buy her another roll when she gets back."
"Good plan." Dean waited as Sam folded several of the decorative paper towels and pressed them against his scalp. Sam grabbed Dean's hand and guided it to the makeshift bandage on his head.
"You hold that. You ready?" Sam asked, standing. Dean nodded and Sam pulled him to his feet, easing Dean's arm over his shoulders, taking most of the weight off of Dean's right foot.
"I can walk, Sam," Dean growled and tried to put weight on the foot. The tip of the toe slid around, Dean swallowed a gag and lifted his foot off the ground. "Okay, fine. You can help if it makes you feel better."
"Thanks." Sam guided him out of the house, to the Impala. He helped Dean into the passenger seat. "The hospital is just down the block."
"I know," Dean said, coughing up more water. Sam turned to him for a moment. "Had to get you stitched up there once when you were a kid, Sammy."
"Stop talking." Sam frowned at him.
"What?"
"You're breathing hard. I think being held under water by a nymph is affecting you."
"What? No," Dean growled. "It's my toe."
"We'll get that fixed, too." Sam said, pulling up at the ER.
"That gets fixed first. I've had head wounds and a little water in my lungs before." Dean opened the door, but waited for Sam to come around the car before he tried to get out. Sam pulled him up and helped him through the emergency room doors. It was hard resisting the urge to put his foot on the ground, but every time it came into contact with the floor, he could feel his toe squish a little further to the side. Sam dropped him into a chair by the triage desk.
"Can I help you?" the pretty red-haired nurse asked Sam.
Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Sam beat him to the punch. "We were helping our grandmother, her basement was flooded. My brother injured his foot and fell. He hit his head and fell into the water."
"It's my toe," Dean said, hearing a definite whine in his voice.
"Was he unconscious?" the nurse asked Sam.
"Yeah, he was coughing a lot of water up, too," Sam added.
"It's my toe."
"Let's get him back to a room and check him out." The nurse gestured to someone and a moment later a man appeared with a wheelchair. He reached over to help Dean up, and Dean pulled his arm away.
"I'll help him, he's cranky," Sam said, slipping a hand under Dean's arm and pulling him to his feet.
"They can be irritable and confused after something like this," the nurse said with a sympathetic nod to Sam.
Hello? I think I'm standing right here. "Not confused," Dean mumbled as Sam lowered him into the chair. "It's my toe." They wheeled him back and into a small room with a single bed. Sam helped Dean up onto the bed and the nurse clipped something on his finger. Dean looked at the small grey clip. "That hurts."
"It's okay, Dean," Sam said soothingly.
The nurse watched the monitor for a minute and then reached behind him. Before Dean could react, he had a tube under his nose. "This will help you feel better," she said.
"It's my toe."
"Sure," she patted his hand. "Someone will be right back to take a look at your head."
"It's my toe," Dean repeated.
"When was his last tetanus shot?" The nurse turned to Sam.
"I'm right here," Dean said.
"Several months ago."
"Okay," she said making a note. "Someone will be right back."
"Thank you," Sam said, sitting in the chair by the bed.
"It's my toe."
"I know, Dean, we'll talk to the doctor about it. She was just checking you in."
"Okay." Dean coughed and glanced around the room. He looked over at Sam, his brother smiled, but Dean could see worry clearly written on Sam's face. All of this over a water nymph, and knowing Grandma Opal, she'll probably adopt the damn thing. He swallowed as the room spun around him. "Sam? I don't feel…" Sam somehow knew, he jumped up and grabbed a basin off the counter to Dean's left. Sam rubbed Dean's back as Dean got the last of the water out of his body. "Thanks," Dean said with a sheepish smile.
"No problen." Sam looked up as another nurse walked into the room. She looked at the basin in Sam's hands and took it with a smile, returning a minute later.
"How is he doing?" she asked Sam.
"I'm right here," Dean growled. Sam and the nurse looked at him. "My head hurts, my throat hurts, I feel a little dizzy, but it's my freaking toe."
The nurse pulled the paper towels off his scalp and moved his head to get a better look at the gash. She made a hmphf under her breath and looked at Sam. "Has he complained of double vision? How long has the nausea been going on?"
"Nausea came and went. No double vision, my head hurts." Dean answered before Sam could say anything. "It's my toe."
She looked at Sam. "How long has the confusion been going on?"
"Since he hit his head, he was in the water…"
"Not confused," Dean said. "It's my toe."
"How long was he unconscious?"
"Several minutes," Sam said quietly. Dean looked at his brother. Several minutes? Okay, Sammy, I get the worried look now.
"See, it's my toe," Dean said, pointing at his foot, still wrapped in the paper towel printed with brightly colored flowers and cats.
"Uh huh," she said, giving Sam a smile. "Someone will be right back."
"How many someones work in this freaking place?" Dean asked Sam as his brother sat back in the chair.
"I don't know."
"It's my toe, Sam. Maybe you should try mentioning it. It's really starting to hurt." He could hear the whine in his own voice. Sam smiled sympathetically. "I mean what if they don't fix it in time and it falls off?"
"You wanted me to cut it off," Sam pointed out reasonably.
"That was before you talked me out of it. I'd kind of like to keep my entire toe if I can."
"They'll take care of it, Dean."
"Yeah, right." Dean closed his eyes. His head was pounding in an interesting counterpoint to the throb in his toe. If asked, he would swear he could feel the tip throbbing separately from the rest of the toe.
"How's he doing?" a male voice asked.
"His toe is killing him," Dean grumbled, opening his eyes. Please tell me that's not the doctor. The man looked to be about eighteen.
"I'm Dr. Cort," the man said looking in Dean's eyes, glancing at the monitor and poking gently at the wound in Dean's scalp. "What's your name?"
"Dean. It's my toe."
"Do you know what day it is?"
"July fifth, but it's my toe."
"Who's this?" Dr. Cort pointed at Sam.
"My brother, Sam. It's my toe."
"How many fingers?" The doctor held his hand in front of Dean's face.
"Three." Dean ground his teeth together. "It's my toe."
"He almost cut the tip off his toe before he fell," Sam said.
The doctor looked from Sam to Dean. "I don't think your head needs stitches, we'll send someone back to clean it up and take another look then." He left the room, making notes on Dean's chart.
"I did say something, didn't I?" Sam looked at Dean.
"I heard you, but maybe I hallucinated it in my confusion."
"Yeah." Sam frowned.
"You think they'd notice the paper towel…"
"And the blood running down your foot?" Sam shrugged. "You'd think."
A nurse came back and pulled a pair of gloves on. "I'm going to clean the cut in your head."
"Thanks. But tt's my toe."
"Confusion is common after a near-drowning," she said to Sam.
"Not confused. It's my freaking toe." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam turn away. His brother's shoulders started shaking. Oh, yeah, and it gets better. "If you're laughing, Sammy…"
"Hold still," the nurse snapped. Sam turned around and grinned at him. "Okay, you just lie back and relax for a minute," she said and left the room.
"How long have we been here?" Dean asked, Sam shook his head, still grinning. "You keep it up laughing boy and I'll kick your ass into next week."
"With your toe?" Sam gasped out and started laughing again, tears running down his cheeks.
"Not funny." Dean said, grinning in spite of himself.
"It's a little funny, Dean," Sam managed to get out.
"Let me look at your head again," Dr. Cort said, coming back in several minutes later. Dean submitted to the examination. "I don't think it needs stitches. The nurse will be in to bandage that for you."
"Thanks, but it's my toe." Dean's whine was beginning to sound desperate. The doctor frowned at him and disappeared out of the room. "Maybe they don't treat toes here?" he said, looking at Sam. That set his brother off again. "I'm so going to kick your ass, Sammy."
The nurse came back and bandaged his head. "Is he still confused?"
"I don't think he's confused, his toe…" Sam said
"Okay," she said to Sam. "How are you feeling?" she asked Dean as she finished.
Finally someone asks me. "My head feels better, but it's my toe." He frowned at Sam as his brother snorted. Be fair, if it were the other way around you'd be laughing too—after you killed a doctor or two.
"Uh huh," she said, patting his arm. She smiled at Sam and left.
"I should have just cut it off," Sam said, looking at him.
"Told you." Dean crossed his arms. "How long have we been here?"
Sam glanced at the clock behind Dean. "Two hours."
"Feels like a week." Dean sighed. "When they let me go, you're just going to chop it off, right?"
"Yeah, sure, I guess so," Sam said with a shrug.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Larson," a tall man said, coming into the room. "I wanted to talk to you about caring for that head wound and what to look for as far as the after affects of drowning…" He smiled and handed Sam a sheaf of papers. "There are instructions for you. Once we're done here, you can go."
"But what about my toe?!" Dean demanded in a childish whine.
The doctor looked at him. "What about your toe?"
"I cut the tip off," Dean said, pointing at the toe still wrapped in the paper towel.
"What?" Dr. Larson unwound the paper towel and the top of Dean's toe tumbled off with a flop, the only thing that kept it from dropping on the bed was a narrow piece of skin. The doctor looked at it for a moment, a bemused expression on his face. He smiled at Dean and stepped out of the room. Dean looked at Sam—his brother just shrugged.
Activity suddenly exploded around them. Someone asked about his pain and finally gave him pain meds. A nurse came in and another, Dr. Larson returned.
"What's going on?" Dean asked, frowning at the doctor.
"We're going to take care of that toe for you," he said with a smile. "If that's okay?"
"If that's okay?" Dean looked at Sam. "I've been trying to get someone to look at it for hours!"
"You'll feel a little pinch," one nurse said, a syringe in her hand.
"Yeah, right." Dean leaned back and closed his eyes. "Shit," he said as the needle bit into his foot. There was another pinch.
"Can you feel this?" Dr. Larson asked.
"Feel what?" Dean said, trying to open his eyes. Now that the throbbing in his foot had stopped, he was suddenly tired.
"Good, you just relax."
"Mmm, okay." He let himself drift along on the meds. "Sammy?" he said, reaching out for his brother.
Sam's hand closed over his. "Right here."
"Don't let them cut it off." Dean sighed and drifted off.
"You ready to leave?" Sam said quietly.
"What?" Dean asked, opening his eyes and blinking at the bright light.
"Do you want to leave?"
Dean looked at his brother. "They done?" He looked down at his foot, it was bandaged.
"Yeah." Sam smiled.
"Did they cut it off?" Dean sat up, pausing for a moment as the room spun. How fun is that?
"Yep. They said there was nothing they could do, so they cut the whole toe off." Sam was grinning at him.
"You jerk, you were supposed to stop them." Dean gently wiggled his toe. "All there, good. It's going to hurt later, isn't it?"
"I have a prescription for you. We'll get it filled on the way back to Grandma Opal's."
"What?"
"I called her and let her know what happened and she insisted that we go and stay with her till you're better." Sam smiled.
"You called her in the middle of the night?"
"It's seven in the morning, you've been asleep," Sam said gently. He smiled at the man who came into the room with a wheelchair. "He's ready."
"Good. You have the crutches?" the man asked Sam as he helped Dean into the chair.
"Yeah, they're already in the car, Chuck. Thanks."
"No problem, Sam. Make sure you tell Opal I took good care of you," Chuck said, wheeling Dean out of the room.
"I will, let me go get the car, I'll meet you right outside, Dean, okay?" Sam said, looking at him.
"I'm not six, Sammy."
"Uh huh, I was just worried, you've been a little confused." Sam grinned.
"I wasn't confused, it was my freaking toe!" Dean snapped. He crossed his arms and frowned at everyone as Chuck wheeled him out to the curb. The sight of the Impala calmed him a little, the throaty purr of the engine soothing his nerves. Sam pulled up and got out. He helped Dean into the car. "It was my toe," Dean grumbled.
"Yeah." Sam grinned, the grin became a chuckle.
"What?"
"Nothing," Sam said, still chuckling.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
Epilogue
The sun was warm on his face and the sweet scent of the garden filled his senses. Dean sighed and leaned back in the lawn chair, shifting his foot a little on the pillow. He was still drowsy, he'd slept most of the day before, with Sam and Grandma Opal checking in on him on a regular basis. They'd let him out into the backyard two hours before, and Dean was enjoying the quiet. He opened his eyes and gazed across the lawn stretching behind the house, to a small stand of trees. There was a pond at the edge of the trees, Dean thought he saw a silver flash jump out of the pond.
"How are you feeling, dear?" Grandma Opal asked, walking up beside him.
"Good." He looked up, Sam was hovering behind her. "I'm okay, Sammy."
"How's you're head?" Sam said, grinning at him.
"It's my toe," Dean replied, grinning back. "What happened to the nymph?"
"Oh," Grandma Opal sighed. "It was so sad, the poor thing was trapped in the basement after the water drained out."
"What did you do, Grandma Opal?" Dean asked, looking from her to Sam. She adopted it, I knew it, I knew she would. It's probably living in her bathtub.
"Oh, Sam helped me carry her out to the pond. She'll stay there."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "How can you be sure?"
"The poor thing likes my cooking." Grandma Opal smiled. "Thinking of that, I just took a peach pie out of the oven, would you like a little, dear?"
"With homemade ice cream?" Dean said, putting a little tremble in his voice. "It'll make my foot feel better."
"You're all cheek, always were," Grandma Opal said, smacking him gently on the back of the head.
"Yes, ma'am." Dean grinned at her.
"I'll be right back," she said with a smile. "You two be good until I get back."
"Yes, ma'am," they said together.
"You know she probably has a cookbook she found somewhere Cooking for nymphs, dryads and other creatures," Dean said as soon as she left. He looked at his brother, still looming over him. "I'm okay, Sam." His brother put a hand on his head and peered into his eyes.
"You still have a little fever. They said to expect that. Does your head hurt?" Sam asked, dropping into the chair beside Dean.
"Sam?"
"Blurry vision?" Sam smiled.
"Sammy?"
"Dizziness?" The smile became a grin.
"Sam…" Dean growled.
"Nausea?" Sam chuckled.
"It's my freaking toe."
"What? Your toe?" Sam laughed and punched him lightly on the arm. "I think you're confused."
"I'm not confused, never was. I knew what was wrong."
"You did?"
"It was my toe."
Sam laughed. "Yeah, thinking of that…"
"Oh god, what now?"
"Here." Sam handed him a small box. Dean opened it, there was a novelty key chain with a toe dangling from it, a tag hung beside the toe. "I thought it might come in handy next time."
"Very funny, Sammy."
"You can just throw it at the first person who ignores you."
Dean read the tag. "I'm not confused, it's my toe." He smiled at his brother "Thanks, Sam."
"Anytime."
The End
A/N: K Hanna Korossy is running a Supernatural fanfic auction ending July 12, benefiting a fellow Supernatural fan, writer, publisher, and friend who is in need of a wheelchair. More than twenty writers have signed one as well as a vidder. Every penny goes to the fund. The auction can be found at thefreeauction (dot) com, under Miscellaneous-General. Registering to bid is fast and free. Donations are also gratefully accepted. For questions or to make a donation, please contact K Hanna Korossy. Check out the auction, donate, but let's show everyone what we all know, Supernatural fans are the most generous, supportive, warm and loving group in all Fandom!