Note: I wrote in both Sam and Dean's points of view, we start off with Sam's and then Dean's shows up (don't worry there is a nice line put in place to separate the two). Comments and reviews are so very much appreciated. Hope you like it. :)
Dean looked tired.
Exhausted.
I could tell by the slump in his shoulder, the dark smudges under his eyes, and the complete lack of insults or inappropriate jokes.
And it was my fault.
My fault that he was wearing himself out; that he was spending his summer working his ass off and taking care of me.
I had screwed up.
We were on a hunt, Dean and I were running from the monster of the week, and I tripped.
Like the klutz that I am, I tripped.
The supernatural animal got a hold of my leg and snapped it in three places.
It was bad.
It took a month of casting and then weeks of physical therapy and it was the kind of injury that even Winchesters don't screw with.
On the bright side, I was getting to spend the majority of the summer in the same location, but that wasn't much when it meant Dean was stuck working all day every day to pay for the medical bills.
My medical bills.
Dad checked us into a shockingly nice hotel and paid it up for a couple months. A few weeks ago he left us all the cash he had and went out of state, chasing down a lead on the demon. Unfortunately John's money didn't last us very long, and Dean was forced to find work.
We couldn't use insurance fraud because this wasn't a patch-and-run situation, even Dad agreed with that. So we had to pay out of pocket for all the appointments, medication, and physical therapy.
It was expensive.
Really fricken expensive.
Dean was working eight hours a day, and usually had some overtime on top of that. The only day he ever had off was Sunday, most of which he'd spend sleeping or hanging out with me. Every morning before work he drove me to physical therapy and then brought me back to the hotel before heading off to the movie theatre where he had a job as a janitor.
I frowned, turning my head to the right and staring at Dean sprawled across his bed.
He was so tired, hadn't even bothered changing when he got home. I pretended not to hear him when he came in late, knowing that he would feel bad if he woke me. My brother had entered the room, locked the door, checked the salt-line, pulled the blanket up further over me, and then collapsed onto his bed. Dean hadn't even bothered to remove his shoes, I observed, my frown becoming deeper as my guilt grew.
No eighteen year old should have that much responsibility.
I shook my head with a sigh and began to carefully shimmy off the end of the bed.
I was glad the cast had finally been removed last week, but my leg still hurt like hell and I had to use either crutches or a cane to get around. I preferred the cane, it was much less cumbersome, but the crutches caused less pain.
My two options were leaning up against the wall beside me, and I debated them both before reaching out for the cane and slowly leveraging myself up off the mattress. I bit back the groan of pain my body desired to release as I came to a standing position and limped heavily towards the bathroom.
I entered the acceptably clean washroom and closed the door softly behind me, trying not to wake my brother. I did my best to relieve myself and brush my teeth without falling over. Everything went smoothly until I attempted to wash my hands. I leaned the cane against the sink and balanced on one leg as I turned the taps on, but as I reached for the soap my cane was knocked to the ground. I rolled my eyes in frustration.
"Typical." I muttered under my breath, drying off before grabbing onto the counter with one hand and stretching down to the ground with the other.
Crouching was a difficult thing to do with the use of only one leg, and it complicated even further by my inability to bend the right one. I may have finally gotten rid of that stupid cast, but it was replaced with a contraption that forced the injured limb to remain in an entirely extended position.
The doctor's called it a brace, I thought of it more as a plastic torture device.
I almost had the cane in my grasp, when I lost my very delicate balance, and hit the floor, hard.
"Shit." I hissed between clenched teeth, my hands wrapping around my thigh, holding my leg steady and willing the pain to go away.
Less than a second later a loud knock sounded on the door.
"Sammy? You alright in there."
Dean, his voice gruff from sleep and laced with concern.
"Yeah. I'm fine." I groaned, taking deep breaths as I continued to grip the aching limb.
"You don't sound fine." Dean said, I could tell that his hand was on the doorknob, already turning it part way.
I tried to get back to my feet, so that I wouldn't appear so pathetic when Dean came bursting into the room like I knew he was eager to do. It wasn't happening, I gave up trying to stand and slumped back against the wall.
"I uuhh… I need some help." Before I finished speaking the door was already swinging open. My older brother immediately scanned the room, his eyes quickly finding me stretched out on the floor.
"You fall?" He asked, immediately stepping closer, his gaze scrutinizing as he checked me over.
I nodded.
"You okay?" My brother questioned, looking pointedly at my braced leg.
"Yeah." I sighed, reaching up and holding onto his forearms as he got a firm grip on my elbows.
"On three." Dean said, waiting for my nod of agreement before counting it out slowly and pulling me to my feet.
I bit back a groan for the second time that morning and grabbed the cane my older brother placed in my hand.
He maintained a steadying hold as I found my balance.
"You good?"
I nodded, indicating I was able to keep myself vertical for the time being.
Dean left a hand on my elbow as I limped from the room, not removing his touch until I was seated on my bed.
"Sorry for waking you." I apologized sincerely.
Dean shrugged, as if it was nothing, as if he wasn't in desperate need of some rest.
"You've got to be more careful man. You don't want to break that leg again."
I nodded, because of course he was right. The last thing we needed were more hospital bills.
"You take your meds yet?" My brother asked.
"Not yet." I replied. "But I can—
Before I could offer to get them myself, Dean was already returning with the pill bottle and a glass of water.
I eyed the medication nervously.
They were the new ones we just got this week. Now that the cast was off and I was in physio, my leg was experiencing a different kind of pain, due to the stretching of the muscles and what not.
These particular drugs made me nauseous, one of their numerous side-effects. Normally I wouldn't complain, because I'll take an upset stomach over that kind of pain any day, but as it turns out, puking is much more difficult to do when you've got your leg trapped in a brace; and even the drugs kept the muscles in the injured limb from seizing, they didn't do a lot to help the pain of twisting or smacking it against the multiples surfaces in the cramped bathroom.
"Come on Sammy." Dean encouraged, eyeing me as he returned the pill bottle to the kitchen table.
"It's Sam." I corrected sulkily, popping the drug into my mouth and chasing it down with the water.
"Your appointment is in an hour. You want something to eat?" My brother asked, appearing in front of me to take the glass.
I cringed at the thought of food, or more the thought of the reappearance I knew the food would make.
"You've got to eat dude." Dean reminded me.
I sighed, knowing he wouldn't let me skip breakfast.
"Just some toast would be fine."
Dean rolled his eyes, but moved back towards the kitchen to fix it for me anyways.
I took the opportunity of finally being out of his line of sight to try my best to get dressed. This hotel actually had a full kitchen, a television and sofa, as well as a bathroom, two queen-sized beds, and a dresser. The entire room was clean and comfortable, and for the first time in a while Dean and I had actually bothered to unpack.
I grabbed my cane and limped my way over to the dresser holding my clothes, pulling out a clean t-shirt, fresh boxers, and the pair of sweatpants I always wore to physical therapy.
It was summer, and a little too warm out to be wearing sweatpants, but the hospital was always chilly and usually at some point during the appointment my entire leg would be wrapped in ice, so I got cold.
I changed my shirts and then carefully pulled off my sleep pants, struggling into my boxers, panting from frustrated exertion once I finally got them on.
"Hey Sam you—What the hell are you doing?"
I startled at Dean's entrance and then scowled back down at the sweatpants I was trying to tug on over top of my leg brace.
"What's it look like?" I bit out.
"It looks like you are not being more careful like I told you to be all of ten minutes ago." My older brother replied, marching over and setting the toast on my bedside table before coming to lean over me.
"Here let me help." He offered.
"Dean I can do it!" I snapped, regretting the harsh tone of my voice, but not the irritation.
"I'm sure you can." He responded without hesitation as he lightly slapped my hands away and pulled my sweatpants onto my leg, being as gentle as possible when stretching them over my braced ampedage. The older teen stopped once they reached my thigh, looking at me, eyebrow up, silently asking if I could handle it from there.
I nodded with a roll of my eyes, because duh I could pull my own pants on.
Dean snickered and left for the kitchen, returning a minute later with a glass full of orange juice. He waited until I was seated against the headboard and then placed my breakfast on my lap.
"Thanks." I said, soft and honest.
My brother sent me a small smile before grabbing some clothes and heading to the bathroom.
"I'm going to grab a shower. I want all that gone by the time I get out." He informed me waiting for acknowledgement before closing the door.
I looked down at the toast, a small smile crossing my face as I noticed the strawberry jam spread across it. I had commented yesterday that my stomach couldn't handle peanut butter, but it was the only condiment we had. Dean must have picked up jam on his way back from work yesterday.
My brother always took care of me.
I winced as the guilt hit me again, because he really shouldn't have to.
He's only eighteen, he should be out going to bars and hanging out with girls, not working his ass off so he can look after me, his snot nosed little brother.
Sam was in pain.
I could see it in the lines on his face and in his tense posture.
I could see it in the fake smile he threw my way as he accomplished another set of exercises.
And it was my fault.
Every flinch, wince, and gasp was my fault.
I had let him fall, had allowed some fucking monster to snap his leg.
I thought he was right on my heels, it wasn't until I heard my little brother's piercing cry of pain that I found out he had fallen.
I should have been running behind him, I always brought up the rear.
Why the hell had I been upfront?
I shook my head in disgust with myself, before plastering an enthused smile on my face when Sam looked in my direction.
The doctor had told me how important it was for Sam to have someone to come and encourage him through physio. It was mandatory that my little brother have a guardian at his appointments so that they could take note and aid him with the exercises at home. The doctor was surprised when I was the one who showed up with Sam the next day, and it took a good half an hour to convince him that I was indeed the kid's legal guardian. I had gotten those papers signed on my eighteenth birthday and surprisingly it hadn't taken much of an argument to get my father to sign partial custody of Sammy over to me. Both John and I knew that the possibility of him not returning from a hunt was a strong one, and if it happened, it would be easier for everyone if I already had legal guardianship of my little brother.
I cringed as Sam gasped in pain, his body shaking with exhaustion as he fought to extend his leg against the pressure of the weight.
"You can do it Sammy. Just one more time." I stated confidently.
I watched with pride as the young teen set his jaw in pure Winchester determination, and straightened his injured limb, shoving the weighted mechanism forward, breathing heavily once he accomplished the task.
Sam pushed his hair off his face, his bangs wet with perspiration as he breathed deeply, hands clenching onto the handle bars of the workout machine chair.
"You did great Sam. We'll get you set up on the bed over there and then we'll ice your leg. After that you can head home. Sound good?" The Doc asked, sounding a tad too cheerful.
The middle aged man leaned down to help my little brother up, but before he got a hold on him I stepped in between the two.
"I'll get him to the bed Doc, how about you go grab the ice." I heard Sam snicker behind me as the older man gave me a questioning look before nodding in agreement and leaving the room.
"What's so funny?" I questioned my little brother as I turned around and slid my hands under his armpits to get a grip.
"You totally just ordered him around." Sam explained, dimples appearing as he stared up at me.
"I did not." I denied counting to three and lifting the teen from his seated position.
I frowned at the groan Sammy released when I pulled him up and held him vertical, glancing around the room in search for the cane.
"He put it over there."
I looked in the direction my brother pointed, spotting the object leaning against the last exercise machine that had been used.
"I'll grab it after I get you to the bed." I replied simply, bending down and pulling the teen's arm over my shoulders. The height difference between the two of us didn't make it easy, but Sam managed to hop on one foot as I guided him across the room, turning him carefully and helping him onto the bed. My brother settled himself and I went to grab his cane, bringing it back with me and standing by his side.
"You did good today man." I complimented, messing up the kid's long shaggy hair.
"Yeah right." Sam snorted, swatting my hand off his head.
"I'm serious."
"I could barely handle it, those weights were like fifteen pounds Dean." He grumbled in disappointment.
"This is your first week kiddo, you just got your cast off. Give it some time."
Sam nodded reluctantly.
This kid was always way too damn hard on himself.
The doc returned, several large ice packs in his hands.
"Now Samuel, I noticed that you have been using the cane. I thought we discussed last time that the crutches would be better, especially so soon after your cast was removed." The doctor lectured, his voice level as he placed the brace back on Sam's leg and then surrounded it with the ice packs.
I smirked at the glare Sam sent the man while he wasn't looking.
"The cane is just a lot easier." The teen explained lamely, a slight shiver running through him as his skin absorbed the cold.
"I understand that, but it is meant to be used in a week or two when you have more strength and mobility. If you have to use it now it would be best to only utilize the cane for short periods of time. Do you understand?"
Sam's authority issues must have been going crazy, I thought as I watched him clenching his jaw.
"Don't worry Doc, I'll make sure he doesn't use the cane too much." I declared, stepping in to diffuse the situation before my little brother lost his patience.
The older man looked my way, taking in the serious expression written across my face and nodded in satisfaction.
"Alright Sam, leave the ice on for ten more minutes and then you are free to go. I want you to continue those stretches I showed you while you're at home and I will see you on Monday."
Sam nodded his understanding and sent the doctor a small smile of appreciation.
"Hey Doc." I called out, stopping the man before he could leave.
"The meds you prescribed, they are making Sammy sick." I said.
"Nausea is a side-effect." He stated.
"Yeah, they're making him throw-up, and with his leg all splint like that, well, it hurts him." I explained, attempting to keep the worry from my tone, but judging by the sympathetic look on the man's face, my attempt failed miserably.
"There a different drug I could prescribe, it should help relax the muscles and ease the pain like the other one, but without such intense side effects." The Doc described as he pulled out his prescription pad and began writing.
"Try this." He said, tearing off the slip of paper and handing it to me.
"Thanks." I replied.
The older man nodded and left the room.
Sammy and I waited impatiently for the ten minutes to end, the kid was shivering by the sixth.
"You cold?" I asked, already knowing the truth, as well as the fact that the answer was going to be the complete opposite.
As I had assumed, Sam shook his head indicating the negative, even while another shiver ran through him.
I rolled my eyes and instantly removed my plaid over-shirt, wrapping it around my brother's shoulders pretending not to notice a second later, after his dramatic sigh, that he slipped his arms through the sleeves and pulled the fabric tighter across his chest.
At the tenth minute on the dot I immediately began removing the ice-packs from around Sam's leg.
"Your ready to blow this popsicle stand?" I enquired as I helped him climb off of the bed.
"Oh yeah." He responded through gritted teeth as he delicately set his right leg on the floor.
"You should have brought your crutches." I halfheartedly scolded as I handed my brother his cane.
"They are too big."
"I can adjust them again, though I'm not sure how much shorter they can go, you little midget." I mocked as I slowed my steps in order to keep pace with the young teen trying desperately not to fall behind.
We stopped at the pharmacy on our way out. I handed in the new prescription and waited for them to fill it, keeping an eye on the boy standing off to the side, not failing to notice the way he shifted uncomfortably, trying his best to keep weight off his injured leg.
"That will be one-hundred and seventy-five dollars."
I gaped at the price and turned my attention to the pharmacist.
"What?" I asked, hoping to hell that she had made a mistake.
"One-hundred and seventy-five dollars." The woman recited again.
I pulled out my wallet and fumbled through it.
Fifty-three dollars, that was it, that was every penny I possessed.
"I uhh, I don't have that much cash on me right now. Could I give you what I have and then pay the rest later?" I asked.
"No, sorry. That's not an option."
"But I get paid after my shift today. I could come right here after work and..."
"I can hold the medication for you until then, but I need either health insurance or payment in full before I can give it to you." She responded flatly.
"But my brother needs them for today." I specified, my temper rising.
"Then you will need to pay in full now."
"Lady I don't think you're getting it." I ground out.
"Dean-
The soft call caught my immediate attention, the way it always had.
I looked to my left to see Sam looking up at me, those hazel eyes staring intently into mine.
"It's okay, I can wait until later."
"Sam-
"No, really. It's fine. We still have the other meds."
"Yeah dude, but they make you sick." I reminded the teen.
"I feel fine. I ate this morning and I haven't thrown up or anything." Sam declared in complete confidence.
A part of me knew that my little brother was lying, but it's not like I had a lot of options, so I chose to believe his assurances and let the matter drop.
"Fine, but I'm coming back here right after work today." I promised, sliding my wallet into my back pocket and grabbing the prescription off the counter top.
I sent the pharmacist a hateful glare before turning to leave, walking at about half the speed I wanted to so that Sam could keep up.
I swallowed down my feelings of anger and complete incompetency as I helped Sam into the passenger side of the Impala.
"You sure you don't want to stretch out in the back?" I asked him, the same way I did every time he had gotten into the vehicle since getting his cast off. When Sam's busted leg was wrapped in plaster the kid had had not choice but to ride in the back, but now that it was just in a brace he would insist on the front, even though I could clearly see how awkward and uncomfortable of a position it was.
"I'm sure." My little brother replied, a lightness in his voice. I knew that happier tone was for my benefit, because he could probably tell how pissed I was at myself for not being able to afford the drugs.
Sam shouldn't be trying to make things better for me.
I should be making things better for him.
That was my job.
Note: The second half will be appearing shortly, definitely some time tomorrow...because I seem to be writing like a ninja as of lately... Thank you so much for reading! It would mean a lot to me if you could please review/comment! - Sam