Chapter 1
Krissy was asleep in the back of Baby, almost from the second Sam had placed her in the back seat she had been out like a light. And man, Sam was grateful. After the scene at the hospital he needed some time to sort his thoughts. He was trying to use his logical mind to process his emotional feelings, and that just didn't work for him. This whole situation with Gus was causing him to blur the lines he had so carefully spent his whole life compartmentalizing. He was heartbroken for her, and he was pissed as fuck at her refusal to follow the few simple rules he and Dean had set down for her. He knew he would have to be careful with her, and to warn his less-than-always-aware brother NEVER to give her the accidental impression that what happened to her was somehow her fault for not following their rules. He knew her. He knew she was already blaming herself. He had an incredible intuition where she was concerned. From the first time he heard her voice on Bobby's phone, he knew it was his job to find her and help her. That little voice inside of him screamed to hurry before she did something stupid back then, and if it weren't for his lack of attention to her recently, paired with her incredible ability of lying (outshined only by Dean), he would have been able to save her this time. It killed him that she probably had been counting on his instinct to save her (or her ego to save herself) – and he didn't. He had NO CLUE. No intuition. He would not make that mistake again.
He ran into the market for groceries and to fill Krissy's prescriptions , (so many, he thought as he peered into the overflowing bag he was carrying). Pills for pain, pills to remember, pills to forget, pills to help the pills that helped you forget. He told himself this was just for now, for the time being to get her through. God, when he looked back he would remember how naïve he had been. As if pills would just make it go away until she was able to have a good old "Sammy and Gus" heart-to-heart. He had learned so much since then.
He carried the bags full of fresh vegetables, chicken, water, and a few extras: ice cream and chocolate. He felt absolutely out of his element on every level, but he would figure this out. He was Sam Fucking Winchester. How complicated could a 16 year old girl (who hunted monsters) being forced to live with the two most overprotective people she hated(loved) after a violent sexual assault be? Sam had the brains to know it would be painfully difficult and lucky for him he did think that or everything that followed would have crushed his heart into a million pieces.
He began making a mental list of things he had to do. He had piles of paperwork from the hospital social workers – the nice helpers who expected a call from him that would never come. Names of people Gus would never see. "The Life" didn't allow them that sort of interaction with people. Too dangerous and he knew she knew that. He knew she would never call them regardless. He and Dean would do everything in their power to help her heal, possibly making a call to Jody would give them some insight. He would do whatever he had to do. But that was for later… first things first.
She hadn't spoken a word since he carried her into the E.R. He knew she was exhausted, afraid, and angry (mostly at him and Dean for bringing her back with them). He would adjust her attitude on that, and he would help her adjust to her new life. It was the rage he radiated toward whoever did this to her that he knew he had to get a grip on. If he didn't, then he would be useless at helping her come back from this. As they pulled up to the bunker, Dean glanced over to him with a nod, a silent pact that they were all in.
He scooped her up, impossibly trying to not jostle or hurt her too much. She had so many broken/stitched/bruised/swollen/cast on her that it would have been easier to point out the areas that were not injured. Short list. Gus began to open her eyes and speak, but Sam hushed her. "Time for a real bed for you, little one. I'll get you settled as fast as I can," he murmured to her. He pressed his lips to her temple as he laid her temporarily on the couch. She stubbornly held to the back edge of his plaid shirt. He turned and looked down softly at her automatically, kneeling beside her. She barely looked like his sassy girl. He reached out with his right hand and pushed her hair back from her face, surprised to see even more bruises had blossomed high across her forehead. "What, honey – I need to get your stuff from the car," he said softly. She licked her chapped lips (reminding him to get something to take care of that) and spoke-moaned barely above a whisper to him. "Hurts, Sammy. Have to pee. Hurts," she breathed out. He held his hand on her head and told her he would be back in a flash to help with that. She gave a nod and leaned back, closing her good eye. He raced to get her meds and would leave the rest for later.
"Dean, I need to get her settled, then I'll be back to help," he explained hurriedly. "Dude, just take care of our sister," Dean answered. Sam slammed the door with his arms full and headed back.
He found Krissy exactly where he had left her, except she was softly crying and speaking in whispers to herself. Tossing his armload, he rushed to her side. "Hey – shhh – don't cry Gus I'm right here, see?" he said, giving her hand a squeeze. "Please don't cry, tell me what's wrong, baby? Tell me – I have your medicine right here." He knew he was coddling her. Hell, he WANTED to coddle her right now. He reached for her pill bag, but she stopped him. "Noooo, Sam," she whimpered in a very un-Krissy-like way. She pointed below her body. "Look what I diiiiid – I peed all over myself and your man-bunker couch! I couldn't hold it and I tried to get up…" Sam hid his smile at the adorable childlike way she was speaking and the horror she displayed at her own failure. She looked at him with genuine sadness. "I ruined your nice man-bunker couch," she stated plainly. Same let his smile come. "Oh, you mean this piece of shit? Aw, honey, we were getting ready to throw this thing out next week," he lied. "Tell you what, you and me and Dean will go pick out a brand new FAMILY couch in a few weeks, okay?" She tried to smile but her lip was bleeding again. He reached up and pressed the edge of his cuff on it.
"Mmmm'kay, Sam, but I did try to get up to …" she began. He leveled his index finger at her and spoke firmly. "Listen to me, G., you do not try moving yourself around alone, do you understand? You wait for Dean or me to come and help you. Do. You. Hear. Me?" He spoke slowly and calmly, not wanting to scare her but wanting to make himself clear. "Yeeeeh, I hear you Saaaam," she whined. "But I donn' wann' help. Wanna do it my own self." He noticed she was speaking very childlike to him, beyond what he thought to begin with, but he did not drop his look. "Well, that's just too fucking bad. Those are the rules," he said with finality. "Make m'own rules Sammy – you aren't the boss of me," she argued pitifully. Then he did smile, dimples popping into each cheek and changing his look completely. "That, my darling, is where you are so very wrong. Less talk, more sleep. Let's get you cleaned up and into your bed." He lifted her and carried her down the hall to the room across from his. He headed for the bathroom and quickly washed her up and changed her into one of his tees. Her bandages would need changed tomorrow, but for now he got her to take her meds and tucked the blankets around her, leaving the small desk lamp on for her safety. Ten minutes later he was fast asleep across his bed sideways, boots still on.
