Short one shot fic
Spoilers : None
NOT a death fic
AU with high angst level warning
Disclaimer : No malice, no offence, no monetary gain, just entertainment.
Written for JanieKM : Welcome home babe! Keep on fighting.
WELCOME HOME
Sam thankfully drives his brother home from hospital. Having been seriously hurt on a hunt and left with an irreparable injury, Dean is
struggling. Self doubting, feeling worthless, he confronts the very real possibility that he is finished as a Hunter, unable to carry on any further.
-oOo-
"Wait there. Let me get the door for you."
Dean sighed deeply, watching his long legged brother extract himself out of the Impala.
"Is this how it's gonna be now then? You constantly fussing an' flapping an' me not being trusted to do anything for myself?"
Dean waited for Sam to get to the passenger side and open the door before continuing.
"Only, if it is? Tell me now so's I can knock you out an' make a get-away in my baby."
Undeterred, Sam bent down and held out a hand, ready to help his older brother out of the car.
"Dean, the only reason you've been discharged this early is 'cos you promised the doctors you'd rest and take things easy. Like it or not, that means letting me take care of you...Or I can always turn the car around and drive you back to the hospital?"
"Watch out Florence, your mean streak's showing a little there...Fine. I'll play along, but only for a couple of days. Other hand please."
"What? Oh...Sorry."
-o-
There was no way he would say anything to his brother, but the straightforward walk from the car into the bunker and on to his room was harder work than Dean had anticipated, particularly when he kept feeling himself repeatedly bending his upper body to the right. Sam said nothing, his steady hold helping to keep Dean veering of course. The specialist had already warned Sam that his brother might keep trying to compensate for the extra weight on his left, and that in turn, his centre of balance could be a little off for a short while, but not to be overly concerned. Sam was assured that it was fairly common at this stage in the recovery and adjustment process. Dean's greater than average strength along with his well above average level of physical fitness meant the specialist was confident Dean would recover quickly. At least in the physical sense.
-o-
At last making it to his room, Dean was relieved to park himself down onto the edge of his memory foam mattress. Since the last Hunt, which hadn't quite followed the preferred three part rule that ought to apply to these things, i.e., Hunter hunt, Hunter find, Hunter kill; this was the furthest Dean had walked and now he was feeling about ready for more drugs. Sam's soft voice interrupted the fixed stare that Dean was giving a bare patch of wall, startling him slightly. Dean had almost forgotten his brother was still there, watching him.
"You ready for some pain killers yet?"
Dean didn't bother to lie.
"Yeah, please."
"Coming right up."
As Sam disappeared, Dean called out after him.
"An' a proper coffee!"
"I hear you."
-o-
Having his big brother back home at last heralded the end of a series of nightmares for Sam which had begun when, after separating to check out different trails, he had completed a swift 135 degree turn off from the one he was following in response to his brother's sudden loud cursing, and the accompanying sound of a gun shot. The scene he gate crashed was indelibly imprinted in his mind. Dean had been almost completely hidden beneath two snarling Adlets. The most horrifying aspect of that heart stopping moment for Sam had been the fact that Dean no longer made any sound at all. Heart hammering, stomach churning with fear, Sam had emptied his clip into the creatures, still shooting after they had fallen still. He knew he was destined never to forget pulling Dean out from under the creature's bodies, and freezing momentarily on seeing the wreckage that was his brother.
-o-
There was no internal debate, no hesitation or doubt. With a shaky hand, Sam called 911.
-o-
When help came, very unusually, Sam had been allowed to stay with his brother in the air ambulance while Dean was transported to the nearest large hospital, Dean himself didn't wake, remaining oblivious to the flight. While they were in the air, Sam had tucked himself into as small a space as possible, giving the emergency crew space to work without having to also worry about tripping over him. A blood transfusion had been rapidly set up and started, and the pressure of the oxygen being delivered by face mask had been increased. A silent screen displayed the luminous green line and blips of his brother's heart rhythm. If the trace had been steady and regular, it might have helped to reassure Sam somewhat. Unfortunately, that hadn't been the case. The De-fib had been already to hand, as was the Adrenaline. And the expressions on the faces of the pair working hard to try stabilising his brother told Sam that both men were expecting to have to make use of the equipment before they landed.
-o-
Sam had watched helplessly when Dean's blood pressure readings began to fluctuate, dropping worryingly low on occasions. The medics focused on what, for them, was a familiar dance. They had worked in perfect synchronisation to staunch the blood flowing from the mess of wounds inflicted on his brother. The sound of the helicopter engine, the medic's urgent two way conversations, the hiss of oxygen, the whine of the charging de-fib machine, the pilot's voice speaking with the hospital over the radio, they had all faded away to mere background sounds on both occasions when Dean's body made the decision to shut down. Each time, Sam had sat silent, rigid, staring in the direction of the two determined medics whose own bodies hid Dean from his view. Both moved in step around his big brother in their combined battle to overthrow his body's decision. They had been successful on both occasions, yet each of their two wins had failed to give Sam any relief. Instead, the tension he felt while waiting for his brother to crash yet again was extreme, and Sam had held himself so stiffly that it felt like his bones were aching and on the verge of snapping.
-o-
Their arrival at the large hospital had been greeted by efficient urgency and, still in a half daze, Sam had begun wading through the paperwork he was being asked to complete while Dean was taken away from him by strangers, down to the swiftly prepared, vacant operating theatre. Sam hadn't needed to be told that he was in for a long wait, his only company throughout the slow passing of the hours being Hope and Fear. He recalled the last words Dean had said to him, just prior to them each setting out to follow their separate trails. Those words then ended up repeating themselves over and over in his mind, like a refrain. Keep safe bro'.
-o-
He didn't know quite when it had happened, but Sam gradually became aware that at some point the floodgates had been opened, Sam's tears had found their way out of his tired eyes, and were now tracking persistently down his face.
-o-
They had all called it A Miracle when, four days later, Dean had at last opened his eyes. The main focus of his attention on first waking was, as always, his clearly fatigued younger brother. It didn't matter where he was or how he got there, Sammy was with him, snoring slightly.
-o-
Sam had no idea how long Dean had been watching him sleep, however when he had opened his eyes, it was to find himself looking straight into his brother's and to see a small smile forming on Dean's lips.
"Lo' bro'."
Dean's smile had grown when he watched Sam, startled, scrabble to sit upright on his
chair.
"Hello yourself...Does anyone know you're awake?"
In answer, Dean had let his tongue hang out and begun making croaking sounds while letting his head flop back into his pillow. Sam grinned broadly, tears pricking at his eyes again, though this time for all the right reasons.
"Ok, message received, I geddit."
Dean's rendition of being too dry to talk and dieing of thirst stopped in mid-croak when Sam poured a small amount of crushed ice out from a small thermos and into a paper cup that was sat ready and waiting, a spoon handle already sticking out of the top of the beaker. Using the spoon, Sam fed Dean a small amount of the crushed ice.
-o-
Closing his eyes, savouring the relieving sensation of the cold ice spreading over his tongue as it melted and trickled soothingly down his throat, Dean's smile grew and was followed by a heartfelt, and long, moan of pleasure, the sound making Sam curl his upper lip and recoil slightly. His expression quickly turned to one of horror at Dean's heartfelt words of appreciation.
"Oh...Wow!...That was unbelievable Sammy. Soooo good. Do it again! I want more."
Dean's eyes snapped open when Sam answered, speaking unnecessarily loudly. Dean stared at his younger brother in bewilderment, wondering what he'd missed?
"More crushed ice? No problem brother, I figured you'd be really thirsty."
Dean dropped his own voice to a low whisper, a counter to Sam's volume.
"Why're you shoutin'? Wassup?"
Sam shook his head and performed a gold medal winning eye roll. The partially open door to Dean's hospital room was suddenly pushed fully open and a very efficient looking ward sister came striding into the room, a Whatever you're doing I don't like it so it stops, now! look of grim determination her face. Her expression switched and softened as she looked at Dean, then she turned to Sam.
"Samuel...Most of my patients use the nurse call button to attract attention. I'll thank you to do the same; instead of this, frankly unnecessary, shouting. Unless you intended to share the news of your brother's thirst with the hospital car park attendant?...Hello Dean, my name is Sister Birch, I'm delighted to see you're awake young man. Delighted. I'll notify your Consultant at once. "
Dean's stare was awestruck as he watched Sister Birch stride off again.
"She totally chewed your ass...Samuel."
-o-
It was after the Consultant had arrived in the room and sat himself down to have a serious talk with Dean that things had turned all kinds of wrong.
-o-
For the next two days Sam had refused to leave his brother's side, even arranging for the Impala to be towed from where they had left it and across to the hospital. He stubbornly remained despite the fact that, while Dean's physical form was present, Sam may as well have been sat in an empty room. At first he had talked to Dean, hoping it might help to bring his older brother round, but eventually Sam lapsed into an anxious silence as he patiently waited for Dean to come back to him.
-o-
The ward staff had brought him drinks, but Sam had refused their offers of food. On the afternoon of the second day, they stopped asking and simply brought food for him anyway. Food that he had left untouched. On the morning of the third day, Sam had just walked out of the en-suit having grabbed a fast shower, when he was brought to a standstill by Dean's quiet, weary voice.
"Sammy...You gotta eat."
Gazing at his big brother, Sam had nodded his agreement.
"I will. As soon as you do."
-o-
After his worryingly slow start, Dean gradually began to respond more to his environment and, to an extent, the people in and out of it. Only Sam ever knew that this serious and quietly spoken man was nothing like the Dean he had known his whole life.
-o-
Left alone in his room at the bunker, Dean tried willing himself to relax, reminding himself he was home now. His gaze drifted over the various weapons that were displayed on his bedroom walls, and he found himself beginning to feel oddly claustrophobic. To him, this room would always be one that belonged to a man who was a Hunter; and Dean was filled with the sense that he no longer had any right to occupy this space. He needed to find himself a new place to bed down, one that felt more fitting for a...For a...? Dean drew his eyebrows together in a frown. He wasn't at all sure what he was now? He only knew for certain what he wasn't, what he believed he couldn't be, ever again.
-o-
Not for the first time, he told himself firmly, that life had been taken away from him on the last Hunt, during which he had been stupid enough not to look up. Turned out the monsters could climb and they had dropped down onto him. Now, he couldn't help the growing feeling that he had no further active role to play within the Hunter's world. He faced being nothing. Or, at best, taking on the role of a hindrance, little more than a needy burden to the loving, good hearted, strong, and still whole, younger brother of his.
-o-
Dean had recognised back at the hospital, almost immediately the consultant had sat down and began speaking to him slowly and softly, his voice heavy with pity, and his face smothered in sympathy, that Sammy would instantly and forever feel duty bound to stick by him and Goddammitt take care of him. Dean knew he could never accept that, couldn't stand to watch Sam leave for a hunt and not be going, partnering him, watching his back. Being here, back at the bunker, surrounded by the tools of those special people, Hunters, People of Letters, Legacies, it was clear to Dean. He couldn't live without being a part of it. His gaze returned to the weapons on the wall...His attention drawn to and fixing on a hand held pistol.
-o-
"Here we go. Coffee and dru...? Dean? You in the bathroom?...Dean?"
-o-
Sam put the coffee and tablets down on the bedside cabinet and went to the bathroom door, knocking on it firmly.
"De..."
The door wasn't closed properly and it bounced open as Sam knocked, revealing the bathroom to be empty. Puzzled, Sam turned back to stare at the disruption in the bedclothes which showed where Dean had been sitting when Sam went to make coffee. Able to discount the kitchen and the others areas in the kitchen's immediate vicinity Sam frowned, trying to decide where his brother was most likely to have gone. If it were him, he would be almost certain to have taken himself off to the library. Although his brother did spend time in there, Sam found it hard to believe that it would be big brother's first port of call, especially given that he had admitted to being in pain. Unless...? Could his brother have lied about needing drugs, just to get him out of the way? Give himself time to...? Time to what?
-o-
The sound of a single bullet being fired almost had Sam on his knees as a result of the overpowering A-Bomb of fear induced Adrenaline that exploded throughout his whole body. Not that! Please...Not that, Make it not be that!"
-o-
Forcing his muscles to react, Sam began to run. More than that, he began to sprint, he began to hurtle, he began to fly down corridors in the direction the shot had come from, it felt like his feet had sprouted wings and that he was skimming over the floor, he was a torpedo, slicing through water with ease, propelled by the desperate, choking imperative to reach his brother.
-o-
Hand flat to the tiled wall, Sam threw himself around the sharp turn in the corridor with a violent urgency, his feet slipping and skidding on the polished wooden floor. He had no way to avoid the head on collision with his wide eyed, astonished brother.
-o-
Two rocks smashed together, the force of the speeding rock that was Sam triggering a second gun shot as he hit solidly into Dean, his impetus carried both him and his helpless brother along for a few more yards before they both finally hit the floor. Dean crash landed with a whumph of forcefully expelled air and an awful throaty whimper; Sam sounded a shocked cry at the audible snap coming from his wrist when he automatically thrust out a hand to try stopping himself landing on top of Dean.
-o-
Not yet feeling the pain of the break, Sam instantly rolled off and away from his brother then, panic stricken, scrambled to his knees and slid himself straight back to Dean's side. Dean was on his back, fighting to re-fill his lungs, his eyes screwed tight closed in pain, his face deathly white, his left hand clasping the stump where his right arm now ended, a few inches above where his elbow should have been, pulling it protectively into his ribs. Spots of blood were already beginning to show through the clean wound dressing. Sam was appalled by what he had done, and then he remembered the gunshots.
"Dean. Dean. Look at me. Ah Hell, I'm so sorry! Please open your eyes Dean. I need to know if you're hurt anywhere else?"
Dean opened his eyes and glared up at Sam's guilt ridden and scared face.
"You freakin' A hole! Wha'thehell were you doin'? If I still had an arm, you'd 'a broken it you jerk!
-o-
Sporting a pristine new cast to support his neatly broken wrist, Sam paused to take a deep breath before walking onto Dean's old ward where his brother had been taken once they had arrived at the hospital's ER clinic. Heading to the nurses station, Sam's cheeks flared bright red with shame when he saw Sister Birch there, standing with her arms crossed and frowning slightly as she watched his approach.
"Hello again Samuel. Looks like you've had an accident. It wouldn't be the same accident that's brought that nice brother of yours back here so quickly, would it?"
Sam had never noticed before what a nice shade of grey the floor tiles were. Sister Birch hid her smile.
"Come along young man. I'll take you to your brother and have one of the staff bring you a coffee."
"Is Dean alright?"
"We've re-dressed his arm and had to replace a couple of stitches to the largest of the wounds across his chest. Luckily there was no further damage to his ribs. The injury near his hip had bled a little, but the stitches held. He has a couple of new bruises on his back and a lump on his head, but luckily there's no sign of concussion.."
-o-
While the Sister ran through the list of injuries that had survived the collision and which had needed treatment, Sam felt like he was growing smaller and smaller with shame as he followed on behind her. Pausing outside the door to where Dean was, she turned to Sam, her voice softening.
"He told us what happened Sam. You thought he had turned a gun on himself? I can't imagine how awful that must have been for you, but it's understandable why you thought that. Your brother...Well. Losing a limb, it's hugely traumatic, some people cope, others need more help, more support. Dean's lucky, he has you."
Sam gazed down at the woman and shook his head.
"No. I'm the lucky one; to still have him. I just wish he would see that."
Sister Birch smiled and patted his arm.
"Well, you'll just have to keep on telling him. Come on, he's talking to his consultant."
-o-
For the second time that day, exhausted and aching, Dean walked into the bunker behind Sam. Holding onto the handrail he slowly made his way down the steps.
"Gettin' some serious deja-vu right now bro'. You feelin' like knockin' me flat on my butt again?"
Sam stood at the bottom of the entrance stairs, doing his best to look like he wasn't waiting there in case his weary brother fell. He scowled up at Dean.
"Depends. You gonna sneak off on your own with a gun again?"
Dean quickly reigned in the flash of guilt that crossed his face, though not quite quickly enough, and Sam took an involuntary step backwards, his eyes widened in shock.
"Dean! Shit! No!...You...You said...!"
-o-
As Dean reached the bottom of the stairs, Sam backed away further, staring at his older brother as though he was a stranger. Dean sighed, and lowered himself down to sit on the steps. Staring down at the floor, he rubbed his hand over his head.
"Dean? Talk to me. You have'ta...Please?"
Dean nodded before looking up at his distraught brother.
"Ok...I admit, there was a moment when I thought about ending it...
"Ah Hell Dean. Why didn't...?"
"Sammy. You wanted me to talk; now let me finish, alright?"
Leaning his back up against the wall, Sam pursed his lips and remained silent.
"That moment? It didn't last, I swear, but while it was there...I felt so useless Sam...I looked at all the weapons hung in my room, Hunter's tools, and, for a minute there I felt like an intruder. Like I'd lost any right to be in there...Like losing my arm meant I'd lost the only life I know. So yeah. I looked at that gun, an' I thought Why not? I'm through anyway. What's to carry on for?"
-o-
Sam let himself slide down the wall until he was sat on the floor, legs bent and his forearms resting on his knees. He narrowed his eyes at Dean.
"An' you never stopped to think about how selfish you were bein'? Only about what you had lost? Not what I'd be loosin' if you went through with it?"
Dean matched Sam's glare.
"Don't Sam!Seriously. ... If you've heard enough? Only I'm bushed...
"No. No. I'm sorry man! I was out of order, that was...
"Selfish of you?"
Sam gave a small, sheepish, grin.
"Touché."
"Look. You wanna take this somewhere more comfy? My tight buttocks're goin' kinda numb."
"Sure. Need a hand?...Oh...Crap! Dean. I didn't mean..."
"I know...You're not that witty. Now, help me up, jerk."
-o-
Sat opposite one another in the kitchen, against Sam's better judgement Dean had his hand wrapped around a tumbler of single malt whiskey, silently staring into it's depths. Sat with his chair turned side on to the table and virtually having to bite down on his tongue to stop himself jumping in to hurry Dean along, Sam had one leg stretched out in front of him and the other bent at the knee, nervously bouncing while he waited. Eventually, Dean cast a sidelong glance at the crazily jiggling knee.
"Does that run on rechargeable batteries?"
Sam stared down at his own leg.
"No. It's manually operated."
Dean smiled, then drew a deep breath.
-o-
"I hadn't made my mind up. You know. When I took the gun? Only thing I knew was I couldn't sleep in that room, so I went to choose another."
"With a gun?"
"Hey, I always take precautions! You know the paintin' at the end of the long corridor I was on when you bulldozed me?"
"Um...A portrait of some fierce looking guy?"
"That's the one. His eyes follow you, it's creepy. Anyway, I decided to try a few shots with my left hand. Course I only got one off, then this crazed Sasquatch attacked me just after I'd lined up for a second shot. Must try and figure where that second bullet went."
"So, how'd that first shot go?"
"Pretty good, considerin."
"You hit him?"
"Right on the nose...Though I was aimin' for an eye."
Sam deadpanned.
"Oh. So you missed then."
-o-
Sam stayed outside the open door and silently watched while Dean gazed around the Hunter's room. His room. Walking across to the gap on his wall, Dean hung the pistol back in it's rightful place. Tomorrow, he decided, he would tell Sam about the conversation he'd had with his consultant, and discuss the different types of prosthetics that were available. He could still do this. He could still be a damn good Hunter, one of the best, just needed some practice time shooting left handed. And time to get used to doing other stuff left handed. Dean allowed himself a smirk.
-o-
"Well bro'? You decided whether we clean out another room? Or are you're gonna stick to this one?"
Turning, Dean shrugged his shoulders casually, like it was no big deal.
"Yeah, stick with this I guess. Seems dumb scrubbing down another one an' movin' everythin'. 'Specially when I've already got this one fixed up how I like it."
Sam's face split into a broad smile, his eyes glistening as he acknowledged his big brother's decision.
"Alright then. That's awesome! Ok, g'night. I'll see you in the mornin'; first one up makes coffee...Oh. Almost forgot ...Welcome home Dean.
END
-oOo-
Chick xxx
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