Hey y'all :):):)
Yes, I know I keep on saying I'm gonna update my longer stories but end up writing one-shots, but I can't help it. It's like when you have an idea, you really just gotta go with it before it's gone... right? :P
Anyways, this idea came to me because a few days ago my brother was in quite a bad car crash :(. He got off pretty lucky considering, but I gotta say, he scared the living shit outta me. He's fine now (thank sweet Jesus! It seriously coulda gone the wrong way so I'm just grateful he's still with us).
I dunno why, but what happened and everything just reminded me of a kind of Sam-Dean situation and I decided to write it by inserting actual things that had happened. It seems I have a peculiar mind when it comes to these sorts of things. Guess I wanted to celebrate in my own weird way that he's ok.
The bit with the drugs which make Sam keep falling asleep did actually happen and I tell you, it is frigging hard to talk to someone when they snoozing on you! :D Still, it led to some interesting one-sided conversations...
So, I hope you enjoyed - it's a little more light-hearted than my usual fics. Enjoy!!! :)
"You can see him if you like."
Dean Winchester nodded eagerly at the doctor's words, his tired eyes igniting with happiness. It was the first time a sign of life had sparked in those green irises since he had arrived at the hospital, an unconscious Sam hanging limp and plaint in his arms.
He looked worn and rightly so. His brother hadn't woken up, no matter how much he'd pleaded with him to, and that scared him. Sam always hid his hurts and did anything to stop Dean worrying. But seeing him there, laid brokenly on the tarmac… Dean shuddered. It stung to remember.
The young blonde doctor smiled before she turned, leading the way to her patient's room. She was personally stunned by the closeness Dean had shown to Sam: the clear devotion and love always present. She had no brothers or sisters. She didn't understand the bond that siblings could share.
Glancing back over her shoulder at the anxiously following Winchester, her smile widened further. All she knew was that it had to be pretty damn strong.
Dean kept apace with the small woman, more than once having to shorten his steps so he didn't trample her. He clamped his hands together, kneading them and wanting desperately to reach his brother's side. The relief he'd felt upon hearing Sam would be ok was uplifting.
It felt like he could breathe again.
He had always looked out for Sam, ever since pulling him out of that fire, it had been his responsibility. And anyone who knew him understood how seriously he took his responsibilities. He tried his best to keep Sam safe and he saw each injury his brother obtained as a personal failure.
He sighed, running a hand through his spiky hair. I gotta stop failing him.
The doctor stopped suddenly and Dean barely noticed, only just catching himself in time before he collided with her. She turned to face him, her expression kind. "Before you go in…"
The elder brother turned at the realisation that they had arrived. He leant forwards, trying to glance through the glass window on the door to Sam's room. A cough ahead of him made his gaze snap back to the petite woman and he blushed upon seeing her amused glance.
"I know you're anxious to see Sam, Dean, but just bear with me a sec, ok?"
He nodded, his green eyes proceeding to swivel from the doctor, to the door, and then back again. Grinning a little at Dean's antics, she began, "Now, although Sam should be perfectly fine and in no immediate danger, remember that he will still be quite disorientated."
The elder brother pinned her with a look, his concern levels sky-rocketing suddenly. "Disorientated? I thought you said the head injury wasn't bad."
"It isn't. As I said, Sam got off pretty lightly considering. But, his shoulder was still very seriously dislocated and we had to pop it back in…" She grimaced weakly, "…twice."
"Twice?!"
She nodded. "Yes, the first time it didn't go in correctly and so we had to do it again."
Anger seemed to pass briefly over Dean's face before he controlled himself, breathing out slowly. "And why didn't it go back in properly?"
"His dislocation was incredibly severe, one of the worst I've seen," the doctor replied, inwardly wincing at the memory of seeing the injury and even worse, at being the one to have to pop it back in. "To put it quite plainly, the only thing keeping his arm on was skin and finely stretched muscle."
Dean winced at that, sympathy for Sam filling him whole. That had to have hurt like hell, and having it popped back in twice? The elder hunter sighed. Shit Sammy. No wonder you wouldn't wake up.
"But, he'll be alright? His shoulder's ok now isn't it?"
A nod was his reply. "It should be fine, but there were some fractures to the bone that have drawn a few concerns. If you wouldn't mind, we'd like to schedule him for a scan later, just to check the damage."
"Ok," Dean answered, eyes now locked solely on the door to Sam's room. "Is there anything else I should know?"
"Yes. To reduce the pain in Sam's system, we had to inject him with high doses of morphine to avoid him going into shock during the procedure," the doctor smirked in good humour. "He'll be drowsy and when he wakes up, be prepared for him to drift off easily."
Dean laughed brightly. "I've had to deal with a drunk Sammy before, so don't worry, I think I can handle it."
The doctor returned the gesture, chuckling merrily. Studying the tall man before her, she was glad to observe that the once so prominent worry lines had reduced considerably. Well, that and the fact that Dean had a really amazing smile.
"Right then," she said hurriedly, ripping herself away from her thoughts. Reaching for the handle, she turned it, pushing the door wide. "If you need me, just give me a call, ok?"
Dean nodded, receiving another smile from the friendly doctor before she walked away, leaving him some time alone with his brother.
He stepped forwards slowly into the room, already zoning in on Sam laid stretched out on the bed. He took in everything he could about Sam's appearance: the paleness of his pallor, the light shadows beneath his eyes, the sling and cast supporting his right arm and his open lips as he drew in even breaths…
A sigh of relief swept from him and the tension quickly left Dean's body. He's ok. Thank God, he's ok. Quietly, he crept further into the room, aiming for the armchair resting beside Sam's bed.
"Hey Sammy." His voice sounded shaky to his own ears as he sat down. Dean watched Sam's face for a second, waiting to see if he'd wake up. Nothing yet. "God, Sam, you scared me man."
The memory of that heart wrenching moment would be in Dean's mind forever, of that he was sure. It had been like everything was moving in slow motion, and yet, there was still absolutely nothing he could do.
Resting his head in his hands, Dean sniffed sadly. He'd never felt so helpless, so useless in his entire life. Sam had been only a few feet away and he still hadn't managed to protect him. What kind of big brother am I? He thought bitterly, scowling from beneath the shelter of his hands. Sam could have died and I…
Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat, fighting to keep tears at bay. Winchesters never cried, and after all, Sam was gonna be fine. But it was too damn close. Jesus Sammy, it was too close…
They had just finished a job, and as usual, Dean had decided to go celebrate. I mean after all, have a few beers, meet some fine ladies all while hustling some pool: win, win and win again situation.
But Sam had disagreed. Ever since their Dad's death a few months ago, he'd been thinking that Dean was acting different. He was a lot more irrational and never took the time to think things through. Sure, before he had always been a 'shoot first, ask questions later' guy, but recently, he'd taken it to the next level. Now he was the 'shoot and don't give a damn' guy and that didn't sit too well with the youngest Winchester.
"Dean," Sam began, dumping his duffel on the bed and studying his brother as he did likewise. "I just don't think that going to a bar at," he paused, checking his watch, "three in the afternoon is…"
"Is what, Sam?" Dean pushed, pulling a face and saying in a stuck-up accent: "Advisable?"
"I just think it's a little early to be drinking is all."
Dean beamed, walking over and slapping Sam on the arm. "That's where you're wrong Sammy. It's never too early for drink."
"Oh yeah?" Sam asked with an incredulous expression. "And who taught you that messed up analogy?"
The younger brother leant over, starting to rummage through the duffel and draw out weapons that needed to be cleaned. He failed to miss the look of sadness that swept across Dean's face before he answered proudly, "Dad did."
Sam's head snapped back up, his brow furrowed. "What?"
"Dad taught me it," Dean replied, staring at the floor for a minute as he tried to reassemble his thoughts. "You know when we were little, and he used to break out the whisky in the afternoon and just start chugging?" Sam titled his head weakly: yeah, he remembered. "He once sat me down and explained why he did it."
"And what'd he say?"
Dean shrugged slightly, lifting the duffel off of his bed and setting it near to the front door. "Just that it helped ease the pain. That it got rid of any emotions you didn't want running round your head." Green eyes lifted, abruptly meeting hazel. "That for a little while, it made you free."
"Yeah but…" began the younger brother, knowing that he was treading on extremely thin ice here, "Alcohol is never the answer, Dean. It doesn't make things go away and it doesn't make things better. It just jumbles your head so much that you don't realise it."
Dean leant back against the wall, his arms crossed while he nodded with a thoughtful look on his face. Finally, he clapped his hands together sarcastically, straightening. "Well thank you Dr Phil."
"Dean I'm serious."
"Yeah, and so am I." Dean ignored the patented eye roll from his brother and opened the door forcefully. "You wanna be Mr Sammy Sober then fine. But I'm outta here." And with that, he exited the room, slamming the door behind him.
He knew as he walked away that Sam would be sure to follow. It didn't surprise him – Sam had always been stubborn and he'd shown that in the countless face-offs he'd had with their father. Stubborn against stubborn: it was an impossible fight to win.
Dean picked up the pace as he veered away from their motel room, heading out across the parking lot. But if Sam chose to follow, he'd catch up. 'Damn him and his freakishly long legs,' Dean cursed. 'Gonna have a frigging juggernaut chasin' me.'
And he wasn't wrong.
He heard the sound of a door closing and just listened as he walked, waiting for the shout…
"Dean!"
And there it was. He ignored it, however, heading towards the main road and beyond where his sanctuary in the form of a bar waited. 'Alcohol isn't the answer, huh Sammy? I'd like to see you find a better one.'
"Dean, just wait… man, please…"
At the plea, Dean let out a long sigh, turning in one fluent movement to meet Sam's eye. He watched as Sam slowed, edging towards him cautiously as though approaching a wild animal. Raising both arms, annoyance taking hold, Dean barked out, "What?"
The youngest Winchester flinched at the harsh word, but quickly recovered, stopping at the edge of the road. He narrowed his eyes as he noticed that Dean was stood in the middle of it: a pretty stupid thing to do considering how careful they were in everything else they did. At least traffic wasn't busy today.
"Dean, you can't keep doing this to yourself."
"Doing what?" Dean exclaimed, narrowing his eyes sharply. "Enjoying my existence? You wanna tell me what the hell's wrong with going to a bar and having a good time?"
Sam took a step closer, gaze flickering sincerely. "That's not what this is about and you know it." He stopped again, briefly glancing to his right and left to check for cars. None. Good. "It's about D…"
"Don't!" yelled Dean, furious as he raised a finger, pointing at his brother to silence him. "Don't, because I swear to God, if you mention Dad one more time…"
"What, Dean? You'll hit me again?"
The two brothers stared for a moment, unspoken emotions raging across the visual link. After their Dad had… gone, things had gotten more and tenser between them and it was like a void was forming. They'd had a full year of learning new things about each other and just being brothers again. Had all that gone to waste?
Snarling, Dean swirled around and stormed further away, knowing that if he didn't, he might just do what Sam had suggested. Now he thought about it, another right hook really did sound like a bang up idea. 'Stupid smartass… Asking for it… Can't he just shut the f…'
"De…!"
Dean froze as his name was cut off by a horrific sounding crunch and he was already turning, his eyes darting frantically as they sought out Sam. His breathing halted as he saw Sam rolling over the roof of a car, his body like that of a ragdoll before it crashed back down onto the tarmac. The young hunter bounced once against the road surface before he fell still, head lolling to a side.
Remembering how to breathe, Dean drew in a deep breath as time sped up again. The squeal of the car's tires as it drove away meant nothing to him as he stared at Sam's prone form, so still. "Sam!"
His legs finally regained function and propelled him forwards to his brother's side. He fell to his knees against the tarmac, his hands trembling as they reached out towards Sam.
"Sammy?" he asked tentatively, gently turning Sam onto his back. He inhaled sharply at the heavily bleeding wound on Sam's head but dragged his gaze away, scanning Sam for other injuries.
As he reached the right shoulder, Dean paused, studying how grotesque it looked, how out of place. "Shit," he spat, immediately pinpointing a dislocation or a severe break.
His hands ghosted over Sam's ribs, pressing down weakly and checking for breaks. Relieved upon finding none, he edged closer to Sam's head, tapping his brother's cheek coaxingly. "Sam, come on buddy. You gotta wake up for me now. Sam?"
Dean paled as Sam remained unresponsive, eyes tightly closed and no signs of consciousness returning. He tried again, this time grasping Sam's head between his hands, taking on an authoritative tone. "Sam. You will wake up now, you hear me!"
And yet still, there was no response.
"Come on, Sam, you're freaking me out now little brother. Please, please… just look at me." He choked back a sob upon hearing only silence. "Sammy, wake up damn it!"
Despair continued to build inside as Sam showed no signs of waking. Dean shook, digging his hand into his pocket to draw out his cell phone when… he frowned, withdrawing his hand and coming up empty.
"What?" Then he blanched, colour draining from his face. He'd left his phone back inside the motel. He groaned in frustration, sitting upright with his hands still clutching tight to Sam. He glanced around, looking for any signs of help.
Stupid deserted town…
Fearfully, Dean looked over at their motel room, then back at Sam. If he ran and got his cell to ring an ambulance, he'd have to leave Sam alone out here in the middle of the road. But even if he went to get the Impala to drive it over here, he'd still have to leave Sam there.
He grabbed his hair, tugging on it as he tried to work out what to do. "Shit!" By the time the ambulance got here anyway… no, Dean was a fast driver and he'd seen the sign for the hospital when they'd first arrived here. He could get there a lot quicker than an ambulance could, speed limits be damned.
But it still brought up the issue of abandoning Sam in the middle of the road. Chewing his lip, eyes lingering on Sam's injured arm, Dean came to a decision, albeit a desperate one.
Being mindful of the injury, Dean placed one hand on his little brother's back and the other under his knees. Readying himself, he straightened, legs shaking with the effort of lifting all of Sam's deadweight 6'4 form from the ground. Air puffed out of his lungs as he managed to stand upright, determination pushing him onwards as Sam's head fell back over his arm.
"Hold on Sammy," he begged, making his way over to his baby, Sam securely in his strong arms. He wouldn't ever abandon his Sammy, no matter what.
"I'm sorry Sam," Dean managed, raising his head from beneath the comfort of his hands. "I… I shoulda been paying more attention, and you got hurt 'cos of it." Tears pooled in his eyes and he rubbed a hand along his jaw tiredly. "Y-You coulda died Sammy and I couldn't… shit, I'm sorry."
He sat silently, looking down into his lap dejectedly. Dean couldn't help but blame himself. I mean, if he hadn't argued with Sam, or stormed away and led them both into the road… But, as Sam would no doubt reason, it takes two to fight.
Maybe even three or four depending on how much shit you're in.
A moan made him jerk up from his hunched position and Dean watched as Sam's brow furrowed, eyes moving rapidly behind closed lids.
"Hey," he spoke softly, edging closer to the bed and resting a hand comfortingly over Sam's. He waited with bated breath as Sam struggled back into consciousness and, of course, back to him. "That's it Sam. Come on, you're almost there, kiddo."
Sluggishly, a pair of hazel eyes slid open, staring blankly ahead before rolling to the side. Sam blinked once, twice, before forcing out a slurred: "D'n?"
Dean smiled broadly, leaning forwards and brushing Sam's hair away from his eyes. "Yeah Sammy, it's me."
"Wha' happened?"
"You, um…" the elder brother stroked Sam's cheek softly, his sincere gaze locked with his brother's puzzled and seriously not-all-there one. "You were hit by a car, Sam."
The expression of confusion remained as Sam's drug-addled brain struggled to comprehend that piece of information. Dean continued to study him as understanding steadily began to dawn on him and his lips parted to give a response: "Oh."
Dean shook his head, not sure if he was hearing him correctly, "'Oh'? I tell you that you got hit by car and you say 'oh'? Jesus, Sam…" But he broke off as he saw Sam's head droop forwards to his chest. "Sam?"
Being careful of Sam's injured shoulder, Dean shook him, trying to elicit a response. Sam remained contentedly asleep, his head bumping lightly on his chest before settling again. Leaning back, the elder Winchester scoffed in amusement. That's not drowsiness - that's frigging catatonia.
With an elbow on the edge of the hospital bed, Dean rested his head in his hands, wondering if Sam would once again grace him with his presence. "We didn't even have a conversation," he mumbled, a childish and yet, joking pout on his face. "Makes me sit up worrying about him then falls asleep when I'm talking to him…"
Suddenly, the shaggy mop of hair bobbed upright, Sam's eyes snapping open as he tried to take in his surroundings. His eyelids fluttered as he fought for consciousness and he once again found Dean as he pushed himself back into a straight sitting position.
"Sam?"
Licking his dry lips, Sam drew out the question, "Wha'… wha' happen'd?"
"You were hit by…" Dean's mouth dropped open as his brother's head abruptly dropped forwards and he raised his arms in an obvious 'what the hell' gesture, "Seriously?"
Returning to his slouched over appearance, Dean narrowed his eyes, clicking his tongue as he waited for Sam to come back out of it. Was memory loss one of the symptoms? He frowned. Well, he does have enough drugs in his system to make addicts insanely jealous. Hmm…?
A small smile curled the corners of his lips as he thought: Time for a test.
Patiently, he waited for Sam to return from his state of blissful drug-enhanced sleep. And yes, in many circumstances, the thought of testing a patient's memory by telling them something that… probably would not do anything whatsoever to benefit them, would be considered cruel. But look at it this way: would any of you pass up that chance if you were offered it?
Dean's testing chance was granted when Sam lifted his head yet again, eyes wide and so confused looking that it was beginning to border on adorable. "Sam… you know when we met those stupid Hellhounds in Texas? Well, after we finished the job and went to that bar, there were all those women who looked at you funny, remember?"
"Mmm…" came the drowsy reply, the eyelids already drooping as his strength once again began to wane.
"Um… well, that's 'cos I told them you were a transvestite with a real infectious case of herpes." A sharp laugh rumbled past Dean's lips as he finished, and he saw Sam glare at him weakly before he once again passed out.
Dean chuckled again, his previous concern for his brother fading now at the realisation that Sam was going to be perfectly fine. Well, as soon as he could stay awake for longer than a minute that is, "A truce on our prank wars? You gotta be kidding me Sammy. I always win, you know that."
Again, the dark mop of hair bobbed upwards again. "Dean?"
"I'm still here, kiddo," Dean smiled, leant forwards and resting his chin against his open palm. The two stared at each other for a moment, and realising that there was no hint of anger coming from his brother, Dean guessed that he'd already forgotten. Thankfully…
"You 'k?"
Quirking an eyebrow at the question, the elder brother replied smoothly, "I'm not the one lying in a hospital bed, Sam." Sam blinked at him lethargically and Dean snorted softly, nodding. "I'm good."
A flash of the heart warming dimples, pearly white teeth flashing momentarily. "Good." He sank back deeper into the pillows, but stopped himself from resigning to sleep, "M'sorry Dean."
"For what?"
Sam didn't answer. Already his eyes were closing as the comfort of the pillows dragged him back into the darkness. He felt himself being shaken and opened his eyes startled, seeing Dean hovering over him tensely.
"No, see you don't get to do that to me Sam," Dean said sternly, still clutching his brother's good shoulder from where he stood. Refusing to sit down, knowing that as soon as he left Sam's line of sight, he would see it as a sign to drift off, Dean edged closer. "What are you sorry for?"
"E-Everything," he whispered, eyes at a half mast as they took in Dean's concerned expression. "I shouldn't… I shouldn't keep bringing up Dad. Know you don't wanna talk bout it."
His head titled to the side but was pulled gently back, a warm hand cupping it softly. "Sam, you don't need to apologise. It was my fault, bro. If I hadn't been so stupid and fought with you, made you follow me…"
"You didn't make me follow…" came out as a lulling slur, hazel eyes blinking imploringly up at green. "B-But, don't matter. I'd follow you wherever you go Dean: always have…"
He slipped off again in Dean's grasp, missing the love-filled smile that hung above him. Dean moved back, running his thumb caringly over Sam's jaw before he lowered himself back into his seat, prepared for a long day ahead of him.
But all the while, Sam's words kept on replaying around his head: Didn't make me… follow you wherever you go… always have…
The day was mind-boggling for Sam. Each time he woke up, he was stunned to find that he was still in exactly the same place, Dean sitting loyally by his side. It was as though the day was lasting forever and it was becoming increasingly difficult to piece together the parts of it that he'd been awake through. For example, he remembered asking Dean questions, but he couldn't remember being given the answers. Which always makes things more interesting.
It was a strange experience to be so damn tired that you actually couldn't stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. Plus, not remembering what you'd spoken about previously didn't help. At least now, by simply looking at Dean's face after asking a question, he could tell when his brother had already answered it several times before.
The next time he woke, the first thing he noticed was a tray before him, a ham sandwich sitting squarely in the middle of it. Sam raised an eyebrow. Huh? Sure that wasn't there before…
"Hey Sammy." He turned his head, seeing Dean sat nearby as usual: Always the protective big brother. "Looks like your dinner's served."
Glancing back down at the sandwich, Sam opened his mouth, about to claim that he wasn't hungry.
"And before you say you're not hungry," Sam glared at him in disbelief. He's got to be psychic, I swear… "Your doc said you gotta eat somethin' to keep your strength up." Dean grinned teasingly. "Then at least you might stay awake long enough to finish a sentence."
The glare intensified. "I do stay awa…"
Sam lifted his head groggily, blinking away the black dots in his vision as he came back to awareness. Ok then… he thought hesitantly, taking in the ham sandwich before him.
"You can eat that you know."
Sam spared Dean a side look, as if to say 'no duh'. With a shaky hand, he reached up, clutching at the corners of the white bread uneasily. With exertion, his energy levels utterly spent, he lifted the sandwich, some of the filling already beginning to slide out.
A hand grabbed his, steadying it while another worked to reinsert the falling ham, "Easy, Sammy. Nice and slow, ok kiddo?"
Sam nodded, feeling Dean's protective hands release him and he began to work on lifting the sandwich to his mouth. He wondered how such a simple task could become so difficult and found himself concentrating hard on aiming the food into his mouth.
To his side, Dean watched silently, biting on his lip so as to refrain himself from offering any further assistance. Sam had always been an independent individual. It was what, in part, made Sam, Sam. Dean couldn't take that away from him and so sat back, allowing his brother to struggle if that was what it took to grant him that one small bit of control.
As the sandwich entered Sam's mouth and he took a large bite, Dean found himself grinning with pride. Way to go, Sammy. The sandwich was returned to the tray as Sam chewed slowly, his heavy eyes searching Dean for the assurance he knew he'd find.
"It good?" Dean asked, interlacing his fingers on his lap and relaxing into the large armchair.
The younger brother swallowed, nodding. "Yep, it's good." He smiled slightly, studying Dean as he did the same. "And you do know I remember some of the stuff we spoke about right?"
Dean's face fell before he recovered quickly, diverting his gaze. "Don't know what you're talking about, Sam."
"Sure you don't." The sandwich was raised again and Sam managed a humourless scowl. "And I'll get you back for it, Dean. You can count on it."
Preparing himself for the Sammy glare of the century, Dean's green eyes flashed back to Sam and he immediately let out a loud chuckle. Sam had fallen asleep yet again, head hung forwards while his hand and the ham sandwich hovered in mid-journey to his mouth.
Shaking his head in pure amusement, Dean reached forwards, removing the precariously hanging sandwich from his brother's grasp and placing it back onto the tray. "Yeah, I'm sure you will, Sammy." His smile widened further and he tapped Sam patronisingly on the leg. "Sure you will."
The drug part when Sam kept on falling apart mid-sentence did happen (very frustrating and funny lol), as did the ham sandwich. Oh my poor brother - he really didn't have a clue why we were giggling when he kept waking up :D.
Hope you enjoyed it and please leave me a review!!!
Hugs, Ami-Rose x x x x x