Happy Birthday Mish. :} Hope this fills all the requirements you had in mind. Thanks to PADavis for the beta, always. Hope it wasn't too painful to slog through. This is going to be more the vein of Deliverance, so…beware of random changes in story telling. It's all intentional and for a reason. Oh, and special thanks to Goddesslaughs for the medical know-how and all that other crap she does to help a story along. :}
Rain splattered softly down onto the remains of an old Victorian styled house, long abandoned. The dust filled air was swiftly overcome with water, hitting the broken form of a man through a large hole in the ceiling. The incessant wetness caused him to stir slightly, while the giant form of a beast shook itself in the corner, and began to stride purposefully, if cautiously, across the room.
I can't really see that well. I mean, sure, I can see the pipe coming out of my chest at an angle, pointing up at the destroyed ceiling. It's the ceiling I can't see. I can't feel too good, either. I mean, I don't feel good, and there's nothing below my waist. Figure that's a good thing, since the damn thing snapped my knee in. But I can feel the blood running over my chin, blood running down my chest and along my stomach. Rain, too, I think. Or else I'm just cold, I'm not sure. But something's making it hard to breathe. Maybe it's just the blood.
Don't see Sam. Hope he's okay, so I can kill him later.
Can't move. Funny to come this far just to get stopped by a....musta hit my head. By a ...we were on a hunt.
I cough weakly, feeling blood spill past my teeth to drip over my chin. Ugh.
Something. Abandoned house. Damn it. Sam'll know. He okay? Got thrown through the ceiling. Maybe took the pipe with me.
The thing...is right there. That's not good. Hey Sam? Might wanna shoot it now. Or did that not work? Damn. Arm hurts. What happened to my arm? It's kinda big. Like scary big. Like it can eat your feet big.
It's bloody. Whose blood? Hopefully not mine. Or Sam's. Don't let it be Sam's. At least I think it's bloody. Can't see it that well. My vision's all red anyways…
…the hell..?
--
White light filled the room slowly spilling away to reveal the silhouette of a single figure standing in front of Dean. Holding out its arm, it splayed its fingers wide before making a fist. The beast howled before it dropped to the ground, guts and flesh splattering everywhere as it imploded. Floorboards and debris shifted as Sam started to force his way free of the soggy rubble.
Castiel ignored it and made his way over to Dean, picking his way slowly over broken glass and rubble. Crouching down next to Dean's broken form, he glanced back at Sam, fingers sliding down Dean's arm, checking the damage before finding Dean's knee, and then exploring the broken bloodied flesh around the pipe. Dean groaned once when Castiel reached his chest before losing consciousness.
"Are you pleased with yourself?" Castiel asked quietly twisting to face Sam, his voice carrying clearly despite the increasing volume of the rain's pattering. "Is this what you had hoped to accomplish? I have told you, as has Uriel, as well as your own flesh and blood that these powers can bring no good."
He stood, turning to watch as Sam struggled free, a gash in his forehead bleeding sluggishly over the right side of his face. "Yet you continue to use them. You tell me, Sam Winchester, why I should not kill you here and now, just as I did the monster that stood before me." Tilting his head slightly, he considered the weakened form in front of him before twisting back to look at Sam.
"Have you learned nothing? Or do you just not care?"
He pulled Dean free of the pipe with an unpleasant squelching sound as bloodied flesh slipped away from metal, "Despite your actions, your brother will live. And perhaps through the grace of God, he will walk again to hunt by your side."
--
"…Caucasian male late twenties...gunshot wound to the chest"
"Blood pressure's bottoming out!"
"Quick! I need a…"
"…He's coding…"
"Paddles!...Charging….! Clear!"
"Come on…come on…!"
"…Clear!...Oh thank god…We've got him! Hang on…"
"Where did this guy come from?"
"…need to book an O.R…."
"Is that rust?"
"…clamp…more bandages…"
"Two units of blood. STAT..."
"…No I.D. nothing…"
--
"Welcome back," a warm voice says.
My answer sounds more like something Chewbaca might say than a person. Damn. Trying again: "hey…" I slur, before panic grips me. "Sam?!" Where's Sam? He's not here; he's always here when I wake up. Or else someone tells me where he is, it's the first thing they do. 'Your brother's outside waiting' or 'he's just getting coffee, he'll be right back' or something. Forcing my eyes open, I shift my vision, attempting to look around the room.
Let's play match the face to the voice. Everything's red and hazy, and for the most part out of focus. Then someone stands up from one of the chairs. Sam? No. Sam doesn't wear a trench coat. Sam's also Sasquatch sized, well maybe more like Gigantor.
"Your brother's not here, Dean," he says grimly. Wherever the warm voice is, it doesn't notice Cas. I hate when angels do that.
"Sam?" the voice asks me, and I finally focus on a face in front of me, Cas fading back into the background.
"No one," I mumble, voice sounding better. Damn my leg hurts. Shouldn't I be on pain meds? If I have to be in this damn place I should at least get pain killers. Where's all the good stuff? I arch my back slightly in an attempt to shift my leg and hips into a more comfortable position before pausing. I just moved my back. I can feel my leg.
I really wish I couldn't.
What happened? And my chest? I had a pipe…came through my ribs, I remember that. Remember feeling the bone break and pieces shatter through my flesh. One hand goes quickly to my chest, and I feel the slight tug of the I.V. in the back of my hand. No morphine? They stick me with one of those and don't give me any…what if they did? Pain's a lot less easy to handle when it reminds you of…of things you'd rather not remember. I'm sore, really sore, but there's not a lot of damage there. That I can feel, at least not like before. I'm sure I look like bear-meat, but still. What the hell's going on? I know doctors aren't that good. I've been in and out of enough hospitals to know something's wrong. The voice keeps talking, attached to a face with brown hair, but I'm just watching him sitting in the chair so calmly, waiting. Why he couldn't be visible…all these questions. Not that he'll answered a single one.
When the owner of the voice leaves, Cas stands up again, and walks over to the bed, looking down at me. Smug son of a bitch. I'm tempted to just close my eyes and go back to sleep. Not that I think I can. My leg's killing me. Feel like I went ten rounds with a cement block.
"Where's my brother, you asshole?"
"Your brother is wherever your brother is. He is not my concern."
"Well you'd better make him your concern," I hiss, fighting the pain. Hard to sound tough if your voice is cracking and your eyes are tearing. "Because I swear to God," and I pause for good measure, "that I am not doing a damn thing until he's back here. With me." Not that I can do all that much anyway, in my current condition. But it looks like all that painful prodding last night was for a reason. Assuming it's only been a day. Voice suddenly hoarse, I ask "How long?"
"Only two days."
How does he always look so calm? Wish I thought I had a chance of hitting him in the face. One of these days I'm just going to do it anyway. "Only?" Sam isn't here. Wait. "Where the hell am I?"
He looks away from me. "Damnit Cas, where am I?!" I sit up, crying out when pain ripples white hot agony through me, locking muscles and making my vision stutter. I drop back to the bed.
"You are where you will be safe," his voice is as flat as always. Son of a bitch.
"You know someone here will tell me, right? You hid me from my brother? Are you kidding me!?" I wish I could sit up. This would be so much better sitting up. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Dean," he says patiently, "I didn't hide you from anyone. If Sam wants to find you, he will."
"I really hate you guys." He just watches me, head tilted that little bit like I'm some bug he's not sure what to do with. "Why the hell do you think this is okay? This is my brother!"
"Your brother is an abomination," Castiel growled softly.
There's not much I can say to that, since I'm sputtering like an idiot looking for a way to make Castiel eat his words. But I don't know how. I can't even come up with any smart ass response, either.
"Your story is simple enough to remember, you were walking, and took a shortcut home. A group of muggers attacked you, shooting you through the chest at close range, again through the leg, and arm. When you went down they continued to beat you, partially fracturing your spine, and breaking a great many other bones, too."
"I'm supposed to know that the gun was close range?" I ask sarcastically. "Besides, I don't have a home."
Continuing like I never said anything, Castiel says calmly "the concussion explains why you have little to no memory of the event beyond the sound of a gun and pain as the men closed in on you. Your wallet was taken and you don't even know your name."
I bite back a mouthful of choice words. "You really….these are bullet wounds now?"
"No, but they are smaller," he says calmly, "We will contact you when we need you."
"I'm not doing a damn thing for you without my brother!"
Turning to fix me with a cold blue stare, "then I'm afraid your brother has outlived his usefulness."
"If you hurt my brother, I will kill you. Every last one of you sons of bitches."
"Then you will do as you are told. He will find you when it is necessary."
No, Sam'll be looking for me. We're brothers. It's what we do. It's what family does. "When it's necessary?" I try to sit up again, forcing my body forward before he looks right at me, meeting my eyes.
"You will do as you are told," he raises his hand before dropping it to his side and walking out of the room. I collapse back onto my back, chest straining. At least the pain in my leg is gone.
"Seriously!?" I yell after him, bringing a nurse running into the room. A guy nurse. Okay.
"You okay?" he asks, looking at the monitors and the I.V. Frowning a little, he messes with something I can't see, and by the time he's talking to me again, I'm so far gone the words mean nothing. Gotta love the good stuff.
The next time I wake up, I'm still alone. Panic starts to grip me, and I try to sit up, finding it a lot more difficult than when Cas was in the room. I can't move my leg to add any leverage either. Chest hurts. Guess the stuff wore off, or I'm really in a lot of pain. Don't want to know. Need a phone. Have to call Sam. Don't know where I am, what do I tell him? Gotta find out where the hell I am, first. Aren't their buttons in these hellholes you can hit?
Looking around doesn't do me a lot of good, but then again I'm not really all that mobile, either. Not good. So not good. Pushing the blankets off takes more effort than I anticipated, leaving me panting and gasping for air for several minutes before I can even look at myself. Leg's bound. Not in a cast, probably will be soon enough. Left arm's not doing me much good, thank god it's the left. Well, okay, thank that stupid creature for not going for my gun arm. Okay, hospital gown. I manage to get my right arm somewhere near the collar of the thing to pull it away from my chest. I just see bandaging. Chest hurts when I breathe. Gotta breathe shallower. Can't do it.
There's a nurse in the room, next thing I know. Musta passed out. Where's Sam? I need out of this hospital, for one. Where's Sam? He'll get me out of here. Okay, he wouldn't not in this condition, but he'd wait a little, promise me we'd leave, and soon enough he'd take me to Bobby's. I could call Bobby. I don't know where I am. Don't even know where I started out. I'm doing my best to ignore the nurse tucking me back and rearranging the hospital gown along with whatever the hell else is going on. Need to get out of here.
"Where am I?" I croak. I have to know. Most important thing.
"You're in a hospital right now," the guy says. Guy nurse from earlier. Joy.
"Which state?" I think I even managed to sound annoyed, that time.
"Wyoming," he tells me.
"You guys have hospitals?" Having been in various hospitals in every state more than once, I'm not actually surprised. But let him figure out this isn't my old stomping grounds. If he's smart enough, that is. "Need a phone," I tell him.
"You remembering things now?"
"Just a number, I need a phone," I repeat, holding out my good hand. He looks at me dubiously, and I figure if anyone should be getting a weird look, it's him. I really don't appreciate all that attention he was giving me. Way too touchy feely.
Reaching over me, he pulls a corded phone away from its receiver, and I look up. I can't reach the numbers.
"You're kidding me, right?" I ask, because I'm in too much pain for tact, I'm too friggin' pissed to really care about anything, right then. My Common Sense can just go to hell. I'm not using it.
reviews? :} Anyways, I will have a new more complete chapter up soon, but... hey. This one ends here, apparently.