Obligation
Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters, but I like to borrow them from Kripke and company every now and then. I promise to return them unharmed. Mostly.
A/N: This is one of those stories that just takes over. I had one thing planned and somewhere along the way, I realized I was writing something completely different. The second half of this tale is different than the first, but hopefully it's an enjoyable ride for you. It will be posted in only two chapters.
To anyone who knows about the creature used in this story, I beg your indulgence. I picked bits and pieces of the legends and used only what I wanted. In my defense, there is a lot of conflicting folklore out there about this thing.
As always, I appreciate feedback so please consider leaving a review.
oooOOOooo
Nobody ever did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices - Alfred A. Montapert
oooOOOooo
How could everything go so wrong so fast? It was supposed to be a simple job. In and out; then a few days off. Instead, Dean Winchester was sitting next to a hospital bed where his younger brother lay unconscious.
It hurt to look at him. His face was covered with deep, ugly gashes and one eye was swollen. His broken wrist rested on his stomach; the cast looked heavy and uncomfortable. The hospital gown covered the wounds on his chest, but Dean remembered all too well the torn t-shirt that had been covered in Sam's blood.
The doctor wasn't too concerned that Sam hadn't woken up yet. He had sustained some pretty serious injuries and it was his body's way of dealing with the trauma. It only happened a day ago, but it seemed like weeks to Dean. He wasn't good at waiting, especially when it involved his brother healing from an injury, and hospitals made him nervous. They were always a last resort for the Winchesters and involved too many lies and hiding too many secrets.
This was the first time Sam had been in a hospital as a patient. He was only twelve years old and his most serious injury to date was a sprained ankle that they'd been more than capable of handling at home.
Dean was stretched out in an uncomfortable chair and glanced toward the door as his father walked in. He laid a hand on Dean's shoulder, but his attention was clearly on his younger son.
"Any change?"
"No," Dean answered, his voice strained.
John squeezed his shoulder. "Why don't you get out of here for a little while? Go down to the cafeteria for something to –"
"I'm not leaving him," Dean was defiant, but still quiet.
"I'll be here." John moved the second chair closer to the bed.
"I'm not leaving him," he said again. He leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees.
John looked at his older son, concerned. They brought Sam in early yesterday morning and, other than when the staff insisted they leave, Dean had been by his brother's side. He wasn't surprised. Even before he put Dean in charge of Sam's care, he'd been an over-protective big brother. Only four years older than Sam, Dean would watch carefully as his parents fed him, changed his diaper or bathed him. He picked out the younger boy's clothes and would take frequent breaks from playing to check on his little brother.
Dean's concern grew after their mother's death and there were times that his compulsive behavior toward his brother concerned John. But he needed the older boy's help, so he looked the other way; he even encouraged it. Despite his trepidation, though, John was proud of the way Dean took care of his little brother. When John had been too emotionally damaged to be there for either boy, Dean made sure that Sam wanted for nothing.
"Dean." John moved into his older son's line of vision. "You need to get out of here for a little while."
The young man looked past his father and back to his brother. "I want to be here when he wakes up."
John knew he could order Dean out of the room and that the boy would go, but he didn't want to do that. He never wanted to discourage the brothers' relationship and he knew how important it was to Dean to take care of Sam. John sighed and put a hand on his son's leg.
They sat quietly together, watching Sam, each lost in his own thoughts and blaming himself for Sam's injuries. Dean knew it was his job to take care of the younger boy and any time Sam was hurt or sick, he felt it was his fault. John hated to see either of the boys in less than perfect health. Despite how it might appear to others, the hunter was more concerned about his children than anything else; except destroying the thing that took their mother.
Finding the monster that killed Mary consumed John. He hunted and killed other sorts of evil along the way, but each hunt was just a step along the path that would eventually lead him to his ultimate prey. He wanted to find it and he wanted to kill it. Intellectually, he knew this wouldn't bring Mary back, but sometimes he felt that revenge was all he had left.
He'd had many talks over the years with his friend and mentor, a pastor who was sympathetic to the ways of the supernatural hunter. Jim warned him that vengeance often lead to emptiness and frustration, but John didn't listen to him. He felt that he needed to destroy what had all but destroyed him.
But there were times when he just wanted to be a father. He didn't want to know what he did about the paranormal. He didn't want to know the monsters that most people thought existed only in horror movies were real. He just wanted to watch his boys grow up and live happy, normal lives.
That wasn't possible; not really. He didn't have all the facts yet, but he knew that there was something special about Sam, something that connected him to the thing that killed Mary. He had to protect Sam and he needed Dean's help to do it. Part of protecting him meant teaching both of the boys about hunting. They had to know about the creatures; how to recognize them, how to fight them and how to kill them.
Sam shouldn't have even been on the hunt. He was only twelve years old. He knew how to fire a gun and he was a good shot, but he was too young. At sixteen, Dean was only recently allowed to go out in the field with his father.
It was summer; however, and time to move on. They never stayed in one town for too long, but John tried to keep a fairly stable home during the school year. The summer was a time for intensive training for the boys and John could go on longer hunts because he didn't have to keep returning to a single base of operations.
The plan was for Sam to wait in the motel room while his father and brother took care of the creature they were hunting. They'd come back for him and continue on to their next stop. But as they were getting ready to leave, a large group of rowdy bikers checked in and John didn't trust that they would leave Sam alone.
Looking back, maybe he would have been safer in the room than waiting in the car.
oooOOOooo
"We're going after a werewolf?" Dean asked, his eyes glistening.
John glanced at him as he checked the weapons. "It's not exactly a werewolf. It's called a rougarou or loup garou. Cajun folklore says it has a human body but the head of a dog or wolf."
"Folklore also says the rougarou is under a spell for 101 days and then the curse can be transferred to another person, if the thing draws human blood," Sam said, not looking up from the book he was reading.
Dean looked at him with a mixture of pride and surprise. "Why do you know that?"
Sam shrugged. "I read a lot."
"So that's what we're after?" Dean turned back to his father.
John nodded. "Yeah. The evidence suggests just what Sammy said; the curse is transferred when the rougarou draws blood. And, from what I've been able to tell, there's just one of them around here. Mostly they're found in the woods and swamps around New Orleans, but this one appears to have wandered a little bit."
They were in northern Louisiana, following a lead John got a few weeks ago when he'd been working another job with Caleb. He was a trusted friend and confidante who John often worked with and one of the few hunters he allowed around his children when they were very young.
"They've been seen in Michigan, too," Sam said, still looking at his book.
Dean glanced at him and rolled his eyes. "So do you kill this rougarou the same way? With a silver bullet?"
"That's how the story goes" John said.
"Did you know what actually kills them is an allergy to the silver?" Sam chimed in.
Again, Dean looked at his younger brother. It always amazed him that Sam could seem to be absorbed in something else, but always knew exactly what was going on around him.
"Do you need anything, Sammy?" John asked later as he and Dean were packing up their gear.
"No, sir."
Dean hated leaving him alone, but preferred that to him being out on the hunt. Part of that came from wanting to keep him safe, but Dean also appreciated the time he could spend alone with his father. As much as he loved Sam, he yearned for a relationship with John and would do just about anything for his approval. He knew he had a lot to learn, but it always made him feel good when John praised him after a good hunt.
"We'll be back soon," Dean promised him. He recognized the expression on his brother's face even though it was hidden behind one of his beloved books. Sam never minded being left behind when Dean was with him, but he didn't like being left alone. It wasn't that he was scared, far from it, but he didn't want to be the only one not on the hunt. Dean understood the resentment, but he agreed with their father that Sam was too young to be in the field. He even secretly hoped they'd find their mother's killer and destroy it before Sam wasn't too young anymore.
Sam nodded, but said nothing.
John opened the motel room door as the bikers arrived. They were loud and many already seemed to be drinking. He watched as they harassed a couple on their way across the parking lot and suddenly felt unsure about leaving Sam alone.
"Dad?" Dean walked up behind him.
"Let's give it a minute to see what they do," he said, closing the door. He and Dean watched from behind the sheer curtains. Sam moved to his brother's side.
Dean noticed his father tense a few minutes later, but hadn't seen anything that would have caused the reaction. He followed John's gaze, but still didn't know what he'd seen.
"Dad?"
"Hey, Sammy, pack up your stuff. You're coming with us."
"What?" Dean demanded. "Dad –"
"He'll wait in the car."
"But…." He stopped talking as John walked to the door.
"Meet me around back."
"Dad –"
"Do it, son." John's tone left no room for argument.
Dean turned to his brother. "What the hell?"
Sam shrugged as he started to throw the last of his things into a duffle bag. "It's Dad, man. When does he ever make sense?"
oooOOOooo
It was early afternoon when Dean and John were asked to leave Sam's room. His condition was still the same, but the staff needed to get ready for the shift change. Dean didn't want to go far, but John put his hand on his shoulder and led him to the elevator.
"You need something to eat," was the only explanation.
"I'm not hungry."
"You need to eat," John said again.
John bought them each a sandwich in the cafeteria and they settled at a table outside, eating in silence.
"I'm sorry."
John looked at his son. It had been almost fifteen minutes since he'd last spoken.
"For what?"
Dean stared down at the half eaten sandwich. "For Sammy getting hurt. I should have been faster."
John wiped his mouth with a napkin, then dropped it onto his plate and sighed. He clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forward.
"You know better than anyone that I'm not shy about placing blame."
Dean nodded, still not looking at him.
"What happened to your brother? That wasn't your fault. There was no way to know what that thing was going to do –"
"You've always said you have to anticipate the enemy's movements."
"That's true, but sometimes you just can't. I've been at this a lot longer than you have and I didn't see it heading off the way it did. How could we know it knew where the car was?"
"But it's my job to take care of Sammy and now he's hurt. What if he doesn't wake up, Dad?"
John was a hard man, but his weak spot was always his children. He taught them to be strong and he expected Dean to keep his head. But this was his little brother they were talking about and John was having a hard enough time keeping it together himself.
"He's going to wake up. His injuries aren't that serious. His vital signs are all strong and you just need to keep thinking positive. You got to him first, Dean. You killed the rougarou. You did that, son."
Dean leaned forward. "I don't feel so good."
John gathered their trash and dropped it into the nearby can as he led Dean to the men's room just inside the doors. He waited, leaning against the door, as Dean threw up in the stall. Emerging a few minutes later, he was pale. He splashed cold water on his face and leaned against the sink with his head hanging down. John clasped his shoulder affectionately.
"Come on. There's a motel down the street; let's get a room and you can get some rest."
"Dad –"
"That's an order, son."
The words were said with more gentleness than Dean was used to, but he nodded, feeling defeated. "Yes, sir."
John arranged for a room while Dean waited in the car, his head resting against the passenger side window. The coolness of the glass felt good against his skin. He glanced at his father when he slipped behind the wheel a moment later.
"You okay?" John asked, looking concerned.
"It's not so bad."
John reached out to touch Dean's face and frowned when he found it warm. "I think you have a fever."
"I can't be sick."
"You might not have a say in that, kiddo." John started the engine and moved to a spot closer to their room.
He carried his and Dean's duffle bags and dropped them on the floor inside the room. While Dean sat down on the edge of one of the beds, John rummaged through his bag for the first aid kit. He handed Dean a couple ibuprofen and a glass of water.
"Thanks."
John sat down across from him and leaned forward. "How do you feel?"
"All right."
John nodded, disbelieving.
"I think I'll take a quick shower."
Dean grabbed some things from his bag and headed to the bathroom with John's worried eyes on him. He had one son unconscious in the hospital; he didn't need another one sick with a fever.
He leaned back against the headboard and pulled out his cell phone. His first instinct was to call Pastor Jim, but instead, he dialed Aidan Prichard's number. Aidan was another trusted friend who had a special way with Dean. He was only eight years older and learned about the supernatural at an early age; he and Dean had a lot in common and John knew Aidan would be willing to step in and help, if need be.
There was more color in Dean's skin when he came back from the shower, but John suspected that was due to the temperature of the water.
"I called Aidan," John said as he watched Dean finish dressing.
"I don't need a babysitter, Dad."
"He was headed this way already; Jim called him to tell him about Sammy."
Dean looked at his father skeptically, but said nothing as he lay down on the other bed.
"He's only about three hours out. I thought you could wait here for him and get some rest."
Dean sighed. "I'm really screwing up. I'm sorry, Dad."
"I told you before I'm not shy about placing blame. You've done nothing wrong here. You can't help getting sick."
Dean looked at his father. "Will you go back to the hospital? Sammy shouldn't be alone."
John nodded.
oooOOOooo
With all of their gear packed in the Impala, the Winchesters headed out of the motel. There was conflicting information about the beast they were hunting, but John was convinced it was enough like a werewolf to make most of the same rules applicable. He didn't like having Sam along, but it couldn't be helped. There had been times before when he would leave both boys in the car while he took care of something, but it wasn't his preferred method.
The legends were contradictory, but John heard the stories about something attacking people in a small town and he tracked them down to the rougarou. It had also been seen by regular hunters in a particular area of the woods and, in a reconnaissance mission earlier in the day, John found a cabin that he thought was its home base. He would have taken care of it then, but hadn't been able to find it. He only found evidence that it had been there recently.
There was a forestry service road that went close to the cabin, but John wanted Sam further from the action, so he stopped the car sooner than he'd originally planned.
The strict instructions weren't necessary. Sam knew what to do, but he listened politely and without making a face. He knew it wasn't in his best interest to irritate his father this close to the beginning of a hunt. John was always more tense when he was on a hunt, but his temper was even shorter now that Dean was going out with him. Sam knew his father felt a drive to destroy every evil he could along the way to finding the thing that ruined their family, but he was conflicted. He needed his sons to be able to take care of themselves, but he also hated putting them in danger.
"You gonna be okay, Sammy?" Dean asked once John finished his speech and had moved around to the trunk of the car.
The younger boy nodded. "Sure. I've done this before."
Dean checked the gun before handing it to Sam. "Keep this ready."
"I will," Sam sighed. He had no problem showing Dean his boredom and annoyance at the situation. "I still don't understand why I couldn't just stay at the motel."
"Dad didn't think it was safe."
"And this is?"
Dean looked at him, irritated. "Knock it off, Sammy. Dad does his best."
He snorted.
"Sam."
He sighed, not wanting to fight with his brother. Their different opinion of John's parenting skills had only recently begun to surface and Sam knew better than to push his brother. He glanced away.
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful, okay?"
"Always, little brother," Dean said with a grin.
John joined them a moment later. "You good, Sammy?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hopefully we find this thing still in the cabin," John said. "If not, we'll track it and take care of it. Stay in the car –"
"I know, Dad," Sam said, not wanting to sit through another lecture. The sooner his dad and brother left, the sooner they would all be able to leave.
Sam watched as they walked away from the car. He had an uneasy feeling, but that often happened when Dean left on a hunt. He and his brother had been in training for as long as Sam could remember. He learned how to fire an automatic weapon before he turned nine and knew more self-defense techniques than he could count, but their actual field experience was limited. It was only recently that John started taking Dean with him on full-blown hunts and even then, they were the less dangerous jobs he came across. Still, Sam worried about him.
Once they were out of sight, he hunkered down in the back seat with a book. He was at least a mile from the cabin, but since they weren't sure where the rougarou was or how it would react when it realized it was being hunted, Sam had to be careful to stay out of sight.
"Hey, Dad?" Dean began as they walked along the road toward the cabin.
John glanced at him.
"What did you see back at the motel?"
"The bikers."
"Yeah, but there was something else. I saw your reaction –"
"It was nothing."
Dean looked at him unconvinced. He knew better than to question his father, but he knew there was more to the story.
"Did you recognize someone?"
John didn't answer.
"Dad –"
Suddenly, John stopped walking and looked at his son. "Dean, we have a job to do here. Why all the questions?"
It wasn't an unusual reaction, but it took Dean by surprise nonetheless. He swallowed hard and shrugged. "I – uh – I just wanted to know what I missed."
Dean saw his father's expression soften, but he still got no answers. "Let's get this taken care of first, okay? I don't want to leave your brother alone in the car for too long."
"Yes, sir," Dean sighed.
Seeing the cabin in the distance, John and Dean slowed their pace. The road curved away from the structure and they had to approach on a path through the woods. John motioned for Dean to circle the building and they separated, looking carefully for any sign of the creature. They arrived at the back of the cabin without incident.
"I saw something over here," John whispered leading Dean away. "Tell me what you see."
Dean looked around, trying to see what his father had seen. He was getting better at tracking every day, but John had a lot more experience than he did. After a moment, he crouched and from the corner of his eye saw his father smile. Knowing he was on the right track, he pointed to what he had found and began to explain where he thought the rougarou was headed.
"Good job," John patted his shoulder. "Let's go."
Dean took the lead, carefully following the subtle clues, his chest filling with pride. The simple words had been high praise from his father and he didn't want to disappoint him. He knew John wouldn't let him get off track and the longer they walked without a comment from him told Dean he was still doing a good job.
He almost missed it, but something caught Dean's attention a several minutes later. The creature had clearly been going in a forward direction, but a broken branch at the edge of Dean's flashlight beam indicated it had changed direction. They followed the new trail and soon realized they were headed back to the cabin.
"Could it know we're here?" Dean whispered.
"Anything is possible," John conceded. "But we didn't see any sign of it…."
He broke off and looked around carefully. Dean followed suit, but wasn't exactly sure what they were looking for. John took the lead and continued toward the cabin. They both had expected the thing to head to town for its nightly stalking and it heading back to the starting point was confusing.
Reaching the small clearing, John stopped short and moved aside slightly. Dean stood next to him and couldn't believe his eyes. He'd seen photographs of werewolves before, taken by hunters, but what was in front of them was nothing like what he'd seen. Werewolves were completely canine, but this creature still looked oddly human. Only the head gave it away.
Even though they were completely silent, the rougarou turned in their direction. Before they even had a chance to react, it ran toward them. John sent Dean running and tried to get the creature's attention to give his son a head start. Instead, it ran after Dean. John fired, but the bullet missed. Issuing a string of expletives, John began to run after them.
oooOOOooo
John replayed the chase in his mind as he sat next to Sam's hospital bed. What happened wasn't Dean's fault. He didn't have enough experience to anticipate the enemy. No matter how much classroom knowledge someone had, it wasn't until being out in the field that real understanding was gained. As the senior hunter, and father, John blamed himself. It was his fault that Sam had been attacked and it was his fault that Dean was sick. He should have made sure the older boy took better care of himself.
Dean had fallen into a lake the week before and John didn't insist that he change out of the wet clothes soon enough, even though the temperature was only a few degrees above freezing. He didn't make sure he ate properly or got enough sleep. He'd always trusted the boys to do the right thing – for Dean to do the right thing and ensure Sammy followed suit. He knew that, in some ways, he was a relatively hands-off father, but it was only occasionally that he beat himself up about it.
He had so many responsibilities and as much as he hated it, sometimes his sons weren't at the top of the list. He loved them dearly; they were his flesh and blood and all he had left of Mary. He wanted them to be safe and that was one of the reasons he hunted. The thing that killed Mary marked Sammy; or maybe Mary died because he was already marked. John didn't know which direction it ran, but he knew his younger son was involved somehow. If he could find what had killed Mary, he was sure he could save Sam.
John paced for a few minutes, then sat down on the edge of Sam's bed. Looking past the scratches on his face, the boy looked somehow peaceful. The swelling of his eye was starting to go down and John could pretend he was sleeping. He pushed the always too-long bangs from his eyes and gently brushed his face.
He was concerned about the rougarou attack and the effect it would have on Sam; not just emotional, but physical. He knew the injuries would heal, but would his son turn into the thing they'd hunted? He wondered if Dean had considered the same thing and decided he should talk to him about it, but for now, he pushed the question from his mind.
"I imagine you'd rather see your brother's face first when you wake up," John began. "But I'd really like it if you'd open your eyes now."
He laid one hand on Sam's blanket-covered leg. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I never should have had you out there with us. Honestly, I was worried about Dean, too, but he's got to learn. You will, too; when you're older. You should have been in the motel, but I couldn't leave you there. Not after…."
John rubbed his face with his free hand. "I know it doesn't seem like it, son, but everything I do is to make things better for you and your brother. I want you to be safe, but as long as that thing is out there –"
He stopped when Sam moaned lightly. He grimaced and turned his head to the side.
"Sammy?" John leaned closer to him. "Open your eyes, son."
He saw Sam's fingers flex, but still his eyes remained closed. John took his hand and Sam's fingers closed around his father's.
"I'm here, Sammy," John whispered.
He remembered that as a baby, Sam would always grasp the nearest finger and hold onto it tightly when he slept. John felt as reassured by that as he assumed the baby did. He thought back to right after Mary died and how he would wake in the middle of the night to find Dean had crawled into Sam's crib to comfort them both and Sam almost always had a hold of Dean's hand.
Sam whimpered slightly, bringing John's attention back to the present. He cupped his son's face and squeezed the hand that still held his firmly.
"Sammy…."
"Dad," Sam breathed. "Daddy—"
John's heart jumped into his throat. It had been a long time since he'd heard Sam call him that. Dean used the word until he was almost Sam's age now, though it was probably because it was his younger brother's preferred name for John. Soon after Dean switched to dad, so did Sammy.
"I'm right here, Sammy." John caressed his face gently. "Can you open your eyes?"
"It hurts."
"What hurts?"
"Everything."
"I know, son. I know it hurts." John reached for the nurse call button. "Do you know where you are?"
Sam slowly opened his eyes, moving them from side to side. "Hospital."
"Yeah, you're in a hospital." John glanced toward the door as a nurse walked in.
She greeted Sam warmly and checked the monitor. After a quick examination, she said she would be back momentarily with the doctor. Alone again with his son, John asked him if he remembered what happened.
"Rougarou," Sam said gently, clearly in pain. "Broke the window; pulled me out of the car."
John still had a hand on his son's cheek. "The doctor said it looked like a wild dog attack. We told him we'd been hiking through the woods. Do you understand me, Sammy?"
"Hiking." He closed his eyes. It was a struggle to speak.
"Good boy."
"Where's Dean?" Sam asked suddenly, his eyes flying open.
John squeezed his hand. "Your brother is okay. He's at the motel; waiting for Aidan."
"Why is Aidan coming?"
"He was close by and worried about you," John's voice was soothing. "But you're going to be fine. You'll be out of here in no time."
Sam nodded, his eyes falling shut again.
"Hurts, Daddy," he said again, barely above a whisper.
"I know it does, Sammy. I'm sorry. The doctor is on his way and he'll check you out. He'll make you feel better."
Sam whimpered softly, turning his face into his father's hand.
oooOOOooo
Dean realized he couldn't lead the thing back to the car because Sam was there, but he knew he couldn't outrun it. He heard his father's gun, but the thing was still following him. Following instinct, he veered off the path and headed toward the cabin. He knew his father was behind him and if he got into the cabin, they would basically have the monster surrounded.
He chanced a glance behind him as he left the path and saw the rougarou continue forward. He stopped running, realizing it could be headed for the car. How could it know? Was it just a coincidence? Dean tried to get its attention, but it was too late.
"Dad!" Dean yelled, seeing his father running toward him. "It's going toward the car!"
John let out another string of expletives, suddenly fearing for Sam's safety. The boy had a gun and he knew how to use it, but what if he didn't hear the thing coming? They had cell phones, but there was no signal this far out and he'd not replaced the walkie talkies that broke several months ago.
"I'll try to head it off," John panted as he took a moment to confer with Dean. "Keep going on the trail. Maybe it isn't going to the car at all."
"Sammy –"
"Go!" John ordered. "Let's get this thing."
As Dean ran toward the car, all he could think about was getting to his brother. He knew he wouldn't catch up to the thing and hoped that his father was able to circle around in time. The idea of Sammy getting hurt was unacceptable; especially in such a stupid way. He wished his father had told him what he saw at the motel; Sam would have been safe from this creature in the room. What was it about the bikers that he didn't trust?
Dean knew that Sam would have stayed quietly in their room; the other people would have seen him and his father leaving and there would have been no way for them to know they had left someone behind. Was his father afraid that the bikers would have earned the attention of the police and that somehow they would have realized a child had been left alone in the motel?
These and other random thoughts occurred to Dean as he ran toward his brother.
John heard the rougarou as it made its way forward. He was close, but not close enough. He knew it was going to get to the car before he could stop it. He was too far away to take a shot and the thing was moving too fast even for his sure aim.
He idly wondered if it was headed to the car on purpose, or if it was a means to an end. The town wasn't far from where he'd left the car if you were running through the woods and not taking the forestry service road. Did the thing merely intend to outrun its attackers? If the stories were true that the rougarou could shed the blood of another to end the curse, was it intending to get to town…?
Oh God, no! John didn't know why that hadn't occurred to him before. What if the 101 days were up tonight? If it found Sammy, intentionally or not, could it transfer the curse to him?
He was tired, his lungs felt like they were about ready to explode, but John somehow found the energy to run faster. Maybe if he'd realized the situation a moment earlier, he could have saved Sammy….
oooOOOooo
John watched as the doctor examined his son. It was clear that Sam was in a lot of pain, but he didn't complain. He managed to keep his eyes open and was able to answer the doctor's questions with relative clarity. John didn't think there was any reason for the doctor to doubt their story about a wild dog.
"I'm going to increase the pain medication," the doctor said as he made a note in Sam's chart. "You're already getting some through the IV, but now that you're awake, you're going to feel things more acutely. It shouldn't take long to begin helping you feel better."
Sam glanced toward his father, seemingly for reassurance. John smiled at him encouragingly.
"The wounds look to be healing well, but you're on antibiotics to keep away infection. You'll have that cast on your arm for a couple of months, I'm afraid. That will just about be your summer vacation."
Sam nodded feebly. He knew he wasn't going to miss out on summer fun with his friends because he didn't have any. He was going to spend this summer like he did every other; moving around with his father and brother, always looking for the next hunt.
The doctor left after some instructions to his patient. Alone with Sam, John moved back to the edge of his bed and laid a hand on his leg. He watched when a nurse came in a few minutes later to check the IV bag and add the pain medication. She chatted casuallywith Sam, but he only had the energy to nod.
"When is Dean coming back?" Sam asked once they were alone again.
"I'm not sure, Sammy. He wasn't feeling well when I took him to the motel."
"Did he get hurt?"
"No, he's not hurt. He had a low fever."
"Can we call him?" Sam asked as he looked toward the phone on the table across the room.
John nodded. "Sure."
He moved across the room and dialed Dean's cell phone number.
"Hello?" It was Aidan's voice on the other end.
"Hey, it's John. Is Dean all right?"
"John, hi. Yeah, Dean's feeling better. He just went out to the vending machine for a soda."
"You got there all right, I take it?"
"No problems. How's the runt?"
John glanced at Sam, his eyes were closed again. "He's awake, more or less. The doctor was just here to see him. He's getting better."
"Good. Dean only told me bits and pieces of what happened." Aidan said. "Wait, here he comes."
John heard the door close in the motel room just before Aidan told Dean that his father was on the phone.
"Dad?"
"Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?"
"Better. Is Sammy all right?"
John repeated what he'd just told Aidan. He heard Sam ask for the phone. "Hold on; he wants to talk to you," he said to Dean.
The phone barely reached the bed, but the receiver cord stretched enough that Sam could hold it to his ear. "Dean?"
"Hey."
"Are you sick?"
"Just a little fever; I'm feeling better already. I'm glad you're awake; how do you feel?"
"Everything hurts, but I'll be okay."
John was continually amazed at the good affect the boys had on one another. He could tell Sam still felt horrible, but he was making an effort to sound strong and healthy for his brother's sake. He had no doubt that once the call was over, Sam would revert to the little boy he'd been only a moment ago. He suspected Dean was putting on a similar front for Sam's benefit.
When John saw that Sam was having trouble holding the phone and was all but sleeping, he suggested Sam end the call and gently reached for the receiver.
"I want to see him," Dean said to his father.
"I think you should stay away until the morning; see if that fever comes back."
John heard Dean sigh. "I guess. Are you going to stay with him tonight?"
"I hadn't thought that far ahead yet."
"I don't think he should be alone."
John agreed; he also knew that Dean would rest better if he stayed with him.
tbc