This one was written for the Secret Santa Story Challenge at the Coalition for the Written Enhancement of Sam's Story. It is for Rozzy, who wanted something like -
What would be really great to read is how Sam grew to loathe Xmas. Maybe it comes from having to over the years endure all the seasonal hype at school etc, only to come home at the end of the day to a totally unfestive setting and very little reward despite all his best efforts. Some trauma to help cement this into place would be good (love me a LimpSam after all ) Perhaps it can be brought about because his Dad and Dean are too busy caught up in a major hunt?
So simply put I'd like my little prezzie to have oodles of angst, whumpage, big brother awesomeness and maybe a contrite John - all mixed up with a heavy dose of our Sweet Sammy's view of the world!
Hope you won't be disappointed and it does your wish justice!
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Dreaming of a Family Christmas
Disclaimer: The Winchesters or Supernatural don't belong to me and I don't think Kripke will give them to me for Christmas either!
Fall had been short but beautiful and now the freezing temperatures of an early winter had taken the last of the leaves down before their time. November had filled with snow and rain or sometimes both and very little sunshine. Thanksgiving had come and gone and for the Winchesters it had been just another day filled with what they did best – hunting the supernatural. At this particular time it had been a poltergeist just 10 miles into Nebraska. By the time they'd returned to their current home, the holiday had been over.
As December rolled around the weather changed and warmed to unseasonably warm temperatures of almost sixty degrees. This continued for weeks and for seventeen year old Sam, the youngest of the three Winchester men, this just felt wrong for the season. That's why he was so excited, when two days before Christmas, the weather changed and he woke up to ten inches of snow blanketing the gray of the streets and the brown of the grass. The bare trees were suddenly covered with icy crystals, which glistened in the crisp air of a sunny morning. The clear blue sky, filled with only very few fluffy clouds intensified the brightness of the day. Jumping out of bed, he took a quick shower, before getting dressing and running downstairs into the kitchen.
Dean, his older brother was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in one hand, skimming through the morning paper with the other. Hearing the younger boy approach, he lifted his head and watched him rummage through the fridge.
"What you lookin' for?" He ask with a smirk on his face.
Sticking his head out from behind the refrigerator door, Sam responded, "Oh, let's see? How about anything edible?"
"Good luck let me know if you find anything."
"What d'you mean? It was your turn to go shopping yesterday." The younger brother stated.
"Well, let's see, kinda hard to do, if I'm on a hunt with dad."
Feeling his temperature rise, Sam gave him an angry look, "You got back right after lunch."
"Yeah, so? I had more important things to do." Dean answered nonchalantly.
"Like what?"
"Like meeting Linda James at the coffee shop." Seeing the anger in the younger man's eyes, he added, "Look Sam, I'm sorry, how about I drive you to school and we drop by McDonalds for a breakfast sandwich, my treat!"
Sam's expression softened, "Alright, but only if you make it two! Jerk!"
"You're a hard one to please, but you're on. Bitch!"
Dean got up and dug the keys out of his jeans pocket, before leading the way out of the house.
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After picking up the food and drinks, Dean rewarded himself with a sandwich and another coffee, while getting Sam an orange juice, he drove his sibling to school. Watching him out of the corner of his eye, the older Winchester noted the excitement, which lit up the features of his usually moody sibling.
So, what's up Sammy, you look like you saw Santa Claus and his elves."
Hesitating slightly at first, the younger brother finally couldn't hold back and burst out, "Alicia invited me to a party on Christmas Eve."
The older brother feigned surprise, "You mean Alicia Woods, blond, pixie cut, busty, leggy and smart, junior in your school with a brother that's a senior and the captain of the football team?"
He tried to hide a grin, because he had seen the glances the two love birds exchanged whenever they met. For some reason it seemed whenever Dean and Sam went somewhere in town it seemed inevitable for them to bump into Alicia at some point. It happened with such frequency that it just couldn't be coincidence. The only thing Dean didn't figure out yet was, if Alicia was tracking Sam or Sam tracking was Alicia.
Blushing slightly, the younger brother responded, "Yeah, that Alicia, she is really nice. It's her brother that's a jerk."
"Yeah well, not her fault, or is it?"
"No, it's not, she is just so different. Really sweet and down to earth and she is also smart. She has a straight 4.0 average and her favorite subjects are math and English lit."
Realizing he was rambling, Sam blushed, suddenly unsure what else to say.
Thankfully he was saved by the Impala stopping in front of the high school. Grabbing his bag, he opened the door. Waving back at his brother, he peeled himself out of the car and stormed into building, leaving behind a grinning Dean.
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It was the last day before Christmas vacation and most of the kids at Sam's school stayed after school for a celebration put on in the commons. The youngest Winchester decided to join them, if only for the reason to not have to answer any questions from his brother. Although they've been in this town for more than three months, it had been extremely difficult, if not impossible for him to make friends. Maybe that's why he was so excited about Alicia Woods suddenly paying attention to him and even inviting him to her party.
So for most of the time he stood or moved around, talking to the few teachers, who attended and exchanged a few meaningless words with the kids, who didn't manage to avoid him. Doubts about attending Alicia's party started to sneak up in him. What sense did it make for him to be there, if the only person talking to him was the host. Maybe he would even spoil the fun for her.
Lost in his own mind, he didn't notice the petite blonde approach him, until she stood right in front of him.
"Sam Winchester, are you ignoring me?" she asked.
"I…, uh…, I…, not really. I…" He blushed, unable to find the right words. "You're really smooth Sammy, still haven't learned anything from your big brother!" He could hear Dean's words clearly in his mind.
"Just joking." The blonde assured him, "I know your mind is always busy with something. That's why I like you so much, because you are not like the other guys."
She pulled his face down to her level and pressed a quick kiss on his lips, making him blush even more.
"So I see you tomorrow at six, my house. You know where I live, don't you?"
"Yeah, about that, do you really think I should come to your party? I mean, your friends are not exactly fond of me." The sadness was clearly audible in his voice.
"Don't worry about them; most of them are really okay with you. They're just jealous because you are so much smarter and better looking." She gave him another kiss, this one a little longer lasting, then waved at him before he could say anything else.
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Dean and John were in the process of setting the table for supper, when Sam stormed into the house. Throwing his bag on the floor, he ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.
Sticking his head out of the kitchen, his brother called after him, "Dinner's ready, Sammy."
"Be right down!" the younger hunter responded without interrupting his ascent.
Dean turned back and continued his task, while his father set the bowls with spaghetti and meatballs on the table. Sitting, down they served themselves, then started to eat before Sam appeared and settled at the table. Pilling his plate high with food, he ate without looking up.
John and Dean exchanged amused glances before the younger man said, "I always thought, I was the big eater in the family. Looks like you are trying to compete for that spot now."
Almost choking on the food in his mouth, Sam managed to swallow before he answered, "Sorry, food in the cafeteria sucked today."
"Well, I'm glad you like my cooking for a change, son!" John smiled.
"I guess even you can't mess up spaghetti!" Sam was surprised seeing his father in such a good mood.
"Guess not! Actually, I thought, since we have no hunt coming up and the day after tomorrow is Christmas, we could actually have a real Christmas dinner together."
Seeing the disbelief on his youngest son's face, the patriarch smiled even more.
"I ordered turkey and all the fixings from the dinner down the road. We just have to pick it up and eat it. I even brought something home that will get us in the spirit!" He pointed to the living room.
Still not sure, if he could belief his ears, Sam stood up and walked into the bordering room, finding it lit by a four foot Christmas tree. Although the ornaments on the trees consisted of car air fresheners and a few refrigerator magnets haphazardly stuck between the branches, for the youngest Winchester it was the most beautiful tree he had seen in all his life, or at least it was the first tree he ever remembered his father bringing home.
For a moment John and Dean could see Sam change into the little boy from ten years ago. It was almost as unbelievable as heartwarming to see the innocent joy in the seventeen year olds eyes. How someone like Sam, who already seen so much evil and heartbreak in his young life, could still preserve this purity was beyond understanding for the two older men, yet it was also what made them so fiercely protective of him.
Feeling the glances of the two other Winchesters on him, Sam turned and a smile appeared on his face.
"Thanks dad, now I can't wait for Christmas." Making a sudden and totally unexpected change back to geeky teenager, he added, "Better get my homework done."
"Homework?" Dean starred at him with disbelief, "Dude, who in his right mind does homework on the day, when Christmas break starts?"
"Someone, who wants the rest of the time off!" The younger brother answered with a smirk on his face.
Watching him pick up his bag and disappear up the stairs, Dean called after him, "Good one dude, still, only a geek like you would come up with that."
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Sitting on his bed and working on his math assignment, Sam's mind started to wander. He still couldn't belief what just happened. Being not just noticed, but even invited to a party by Alicia Woods was already more than he expected this Christmas. To have his dad not only bring home a tree, but planning a real Christmas, with turkey and family time, just like regular family, was almost beyond what his mind could comprehend.
He remembered the many occasions, when this time of year was nothing but a disappointment for him. Sure, until he was nine his father had at least tried to acknowledge the holiday. Usually that had meant some inexpensive or previously used toys for presents. Getting a tree was usually left up to Dean, who never failed to organize one from somewhere. The year Sam turned nine, John failed to show up on Christmas day and to prevent his brother from being disappointed, Dean had fibbed that John came home and had to leave again but left presents behind. The memory of unwrapping a Barbie doll brought a smile to Sam's face now, at the time though; it made him loose all his faith in his until then unfaultable father.
After that, John simply ignored Christmas, making it a day like every other. After all, the supernatural didn't take a holiday. So it was left up to big brother to help Sam retain at least some sense of normalcy by hanging up garlands and snatching a tree from wherever he could. And there were always presents, things Sam never forgot and certainly never would give up. Things like Dean's old flash light, polished until it shone and engraved with Sam's initials. Or the pocket knife the younger brother always carried in his pocket now. Until this day, Christmas for Sam was spelled D-e-a-n, and even though this would never change, it was special to have his father be the one to make the holiday happen for him.
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The next day seemed to crawl along, like the hours suddenly had twice as many minutes as usual, at least that's how Sam felt. Ever so often he would check his coat pocket, making sure the gift he had gotten for Alicia was still in it. It was a silver charm bracelet; he came across in one of the local stores. Inexpensive enough to not stretch his small allowance, it was very pretty but what was even more important, the charms weren't just meaningless accessories. They were actual protective symbols, which in Sam's eyes made them a special gift, something he wouldn't give to just anyone.
A blush appeared on the youngest Winchester's face as he thought about his feelings for the pretty girl. Unsure, if she returned them, he was encouraged by the attention she had given him lately. That's why he was so excited about the invitation. Too shy too talk about his feelings for her, he hoped his present would show her.
Finally five thirty rolled around and with it a Sam, who was freshly showered, dressed and ready to go. Calling a fast good bye to his brother and father, who both were in the living room, he made his way out the door. As he walked down the walk way, he heard foot steps behind him. Knowing without looking that they belonged to Dean, he stopped and turned.
"What d'ya want?" he asked slightly annoyed.
"Nothing, just wondered, if you want a ride?"
"Thanks, but I think I rather walk." Even though he appreciated it, he declined the offer.
"You sure? It's no problem to drive you!"
"I know, but I really need to walk." The younger brother insisted.
"I understand!" Dean waggled his eyebrows and smirked, then he reached in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small plastic packet, "Here, better take that!"
Looking at the contents of his brother's palm, Sam blushed again, which elicited another grin from the older Winchester.
"I, uh, I really don't need this Dean. It's a Christmas party, not a date."
Turning around, he walked away at a fast pace.
Dean chuckled as he watched his brother rush off. Shaking his head, he made his way back into house, "At that rate, the kid will never get laid."
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Sam slowed down as soon as he turned the corner. The house that belonged to Alicia's parents was only ten minutes from here and he didn't need to leave this early to get there. Yet anything was better than sitting around and counting the seconds till six came around.
Taking an alternative route through the park, he pulled the collar of his coat up and pushed his hands into the pockets. A few hours ago it had started to snow again and the new blanketed the old with a soft new coat of fluff, Sam opened his mouth and caught some of the big flakes with his tongue. He suddenly felt like a little boy again.
Tomorrow was Christmas, it was snowing and he was on his way to an actual Christmas party. What was even better, he was going to have a real celebration with his family. Overtaken by excitement, he bent down and scooped up some of the fluffy stuff, forming it into a ball before throwing it at one of the street signs. He repeated his actions several times, giving it his best effort and hitting his mark every time. When he finally quit, his cheeks were reddened and his eyes sparkling, giving him an appearance that more matched his attitude than his six foot one frame.
Coming back to reality, he checked his watch. Noting that it was close to six and not wanting to be late, he fell into a light jog in order to make it in time.
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When he arrived at the door, Sam took a second to compose himself and breathe deeply before ringing the door bell. Standing up straight, a smile appeared on his face, as he heard steps coming closer before the door opened.
Taking a few steps backwards, the youngest Winchester looked in surprise at Alicia's brother standing in the doorway.
"Hey Winchester, cat's got your mouth?" The tall jock grinned.
At six foot even, Brian was one inch shorter than Sam, but had a good fifty pound on the lanky teenager. He was a senior, like the young hunter, but more than a year older due to starting school late. He was also a below average student, who only maintained his membership in the football team by cheating and bullying others into doing his school work so he could keep his grades up. It was almost unimaginable to Sam that this jerk was the brother of the smart and gentle Alicia.
"Your sister invited me!"
"Oh yeah, the party! Why don't you come in?" He stepped to the side to let the other boy in.
Reluctantly taking him up on the offer, Sam walked into the house and looked around. The large entry hall was decorated with evergreen garlands and a Christmas tree decorated in colors that matched the red and gold of the curtains and furniture. Everything looked like more money than any of the Winchesters would see in their life time.
Turning back to Brian, he asked, "So where is Alicia?"
"Oh, I forgot, she wanted me to tell you, she moved the party to one of her friend's houses." The grin on his face was almost evil, "And that you really shouldn't bother to look for it, because she doesn't want you there!"
Being in total disbelief of the words he just heard, Sam suddenly felt dizzy as all color left his face and he had to hold on to the wall to keep his balance. After a moment he regained his composure enough to clear his thoughts. This couldn't be true; Alicia wouldn't do this to him, not the Alicia he knew.
"You're lying!" he almost yelled.
A laugh came from the older boy's lips, "You know, I don't like you, but I have no need to lie to you. If you want to search the house, go ahead. I promise you, Alicia isn't here. Sorry, for the disappointment, no party for you tonight!" He added with triumphant grin.
"Why?" Sam wasn't talking to any one in particular, no longer disbelieving but not able to comprehend either.
Trying to leave, he found his way blocked by the massive football player, "Hey, not so fast Winchester, I changed my mind. I think I give you a party after all. Let's have some fun!"
Before the teenager could react, he got caught by a right hook into his jaw, which jerked his head to the side and back and made him slam into the wall. Still reeling from the emotional distress it took him a moment too long to recover. By then the next blow came, this time in the form of a fist to his stomach that took the breath out of him. Jackknifing with his arms around his abdomen, he fell to the floor, desperately trying to pull air back into his starving lungs. Before he could get up, a vicious kick in the rips made him roll around, managing to move just enough so the next one missed. Ready for Brian to kick out again, he grabbed his foot and pulled, resulting in the larger boy loosing his balance and falling backwards.
Adrenaline pumping now, Sam jumped up and was surprised to find the football player back on his feet at the same time. Slamming his fist into the other's jaw, the hunter was able to drive him against the wall. Pulling back he hit the jock again, this time effectively breaking his nose and eliciting a painful moan from him.
While the older boy leaned against the wall, cupping his nose with his hands, Sam turned and started to walk away, suddenly feeling bone weary. Reaching the door, he pulled it opened, and stood holding on for a moment, when a flaming pain sliced through the left side of his back. Instinctively reaching for the offending area, he felt the warm moisture against the palm of his hand. Still stunned, he hardly felt the kick to the middle of his back, which made him fall forward onto the concrete driveway.
"That's for breaking my nose!" Brian voice filled with rage, "And this", he gave the downed Winchester another kick in the ribs, "This is for thinking a lowlife scumbag like you could even look at my sister!" He turned and slammed the door shut without giving Sam another glance.
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It took the youngest Winchester several minutes to get his bearings. The knife wound in his back was throbbing and with every heartbeat he could feel more blood leak out of the jagged cut. In addition, his ribs were hurting with each breath, making it difficult to get enough air in. The physical pain though was nothing compared to the disillusionment he felt. How could he have been so wrong about Alicia?
Trying to hold back the tears that threatened to run down his face, his training started to kick in. Getting up on his knees, he removed his coat, button down shirt and t-shirt, clenching his teeth together to keep a scream of pain from escaping his lips. Tearing a long strip from the t-shirt, he bunched the rest together and pressed it against the still heavily bleeding wound, securing it by tying the strip around his waist.
The cold air and icy flakes still falling from the sky made him shiver, increasing the stabs of pain tearing through his side. Carefully, yet as fast as possible, he redressed himself, before taking a minute to breathe through the agony. When he felt up to it, he stood, holding on to a tree to prevent from falling back down. Again waiting for a moment, this time to let the dizziness pass, he finally started walking.
This time the short walk back home lasted more than half an hour. Several times the young hunter had to stop and hold on to a tree, street light or what ever else was there. Every time he came to a halt, he found it more difficult to go on. The blood loss continued to make him feel woozy and the accompanying throbbing didn't improve the feeling. It was the emotional turmoil though, that made him want to just slide down into the snow, close his eyes and forget about everything that happened.
Alicia, she made him feel special, like he really meant something to her. She was the first girl he allowed himself to fall for. Sure, there had been other girls before, but he had always been able to keep his distance, to see them for what they were, teenage flings. Alicia had been different. From the moment he met her, he hadn't been able to keep a clear head. Against his better judgment he actually fell in love and even though he knew that it was just a matter of time until his father would pack up and move them again, he couldn't help harboring dreams of staying and having a future with her.
"You are an idiot, Sam Winchester!" He scolded himself as tears ran down his face. Why should he go on, why not just sit down and give in to his desire to sleep. Turning around, he leant against the lamp post, his gaze falling upon the lighted tree in the window of the house ahead. And suddenly it seemed like there was a glimmer of hope, shining from the lights directly into his heart. A smile, although very small, appeared on his face. Tomorrow was Christmas, his father and Dean were waiting for him to celebrate with them. All he needed to do was go home. His dad would fix him up and Dean would know how to help him with everything else. As long as he had them, he could dean with the rest.
Straightening as much as possible, he started walking again, this time with more determination, because no matter how many mistakes his dad had made in the past, he loved him and Sam had every intention to show him how much he appreciated his effort to make Christmas happen this year.
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By the time Sam made it back to their current home, he felt even more dizzy and ready to pass out. Stumbling up the few steps to the front porch, he leaned heavily against the door, while peeling the key out of his pocket and unlocking it, almost falling into the house when he opened it. He regained his balance at the last moment and made his way over to the couch, where he allowed himself to collapse. At the moment he didn't even care about the door still standing wide open.
After spending several minutes in a state between sleep and wakefulness, the young hunter became aware of the stillness surrounding him. It was never this quiet when Dean was around. His brother always had the radio or TV on, seemingly needing the background noise to concentrate. He obviously inherited the habit from their father, who had the same preference.
Slowly sitting up, he looked around, seeing the light coming from the kitchen. Obviously they couldn't have gone very far; otherwise the light would have been off. John was very conscious of their financial situation and made sure no electricity was wasted. Maybe his dad and brother went out for a few last minute preparations for the next day. So much for getting fixed up right away. Guess he would have to wait until their return.
While holding on to the side table, Sam managed to get to his feet, standing for a moment until the room stopped spinning. When he finally felt like he had solid ground underneath him, he shuffled over to the door and closed it, making sure it was locked before he took a handful of salt out of the container beside the entrance and replenished the line of the white crystal. Groaning, he turned and walked to the kitchen to take care of his injury. Right now he was too tired to make it to the upstairs bathroom with all their supplies. He knew though that his dad keep a few things in the cupboard beside the fridge. For the moment that would have to do.
Opening the cupboard door, he took out a box and made his way over to the table. After putting it down on the table, he sat down, feeling like he had just performed a major task. He closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the chair, just to jerk up, when a sharp pain stabbed through his injured back. Unable to suppress a moan, he pushed his hand against the wound, hoping the pressure would bring the pain under control. For several minutes he sat there breathing slowly in and out until the agony subsided to a more bearable level.
Finally feeling like he would be able to move again, he took the lid off the box and inspected the contents. Finding a whole pack of gauze pads, tape and a bottle of peroxide, he carefully shrugged off his jacket and shirt, before untying the makeshift bandage around his abdomen. Already aware that the wound was bleeding again; the wetness rolling down his back and into the waistband of his jeans was a dead giveaway; he wasn't surprised, when he found the cloth almost dripping with his life fluid.
He tore several long strips of tape of the roll and he laid them crosswise on the table, sticky side up, then ripped the pack of gauze open and laid several of them on top of them. Having done that, he took several more out and bunched them together, holding them tight against the knife wound, before he used is free hand to grab the taped pads and press them over the others, finishing by smoothing the tape against his skin.
By now sweat was running down his face and his lip was bleeding from him biting down on it, in an attempt to keep from crying out. He knew the injury needed proper care, preferably from a doctor, but in his case a careful cleaning and sutures from his dad or Dean would do. Now he just had to wait until both of them got back.
Weary and exhausted, Sam pulled his hand through his hair, then rubbed his eyes. As his hand went down on the table, his eyes fell upon a piece of paper lying in the middle of the table. Spotting his name on it, he picked it up and read the words written in his father's handwriting.
"Sam, we had to leave. Bobby called about a spirit haunting a hotel fifty miles from here.
It's been scaring the guests away and caused a lot of property damage. If everything goes alright, we should be back by tomorrow evening otherwise I call you. Dad"
Sam let the paper drop from his now shaking hands, his vision suddenly blurred by tears. His heart was racing and felt like it was going to jump out of his chest, as he tried to wrap his mind around what he just read. This just couldn't be true. Closing his eyes, he hoped it would turn out to be just a dream, something brought on by the pain and blood loss, because he was sure his dad wouldn't do this to him. Sure, John was obsessed with hunting, but this wasn't a haunting that couldn't wait, just scared people and property damage, nothing important enough to break a promise. A promise that meant the world to Sam, because it was something he had waited for what seemed like his whole life and had all but given hope up to ever happen.
Finally opening his lids again, his eyes falling on the note lying where he dropped it, he knew there was no denying the truth, his father left, feeling a stupid spirit was more important than a promise to his youngest son.
At that moment it seemed like the world came down on Sam. The emotional distress from earlier, paired with the throbbing from his injury, which now seemed to engulf his whole body only added to the intensity of the latest blow. Unable to think coherently, the youngest Winchester felt himself shiver like a leave in the wind, physical pain taking up every inch of his body.
Stumbling to his feet, dizziness overtook, his breath coming out in fast shallow puffs. If Dean would have been here at this moment, he would have easily recognized the signs of hyperventilation and told him to sit back down and put his head between his legs. But his brother wasn't here and at this point there wasn't enough lucidity left in the youngest Winchesters brain for even one clear thought. So as his body tried to pull in the necessary oxygen, his breathing only got faster.
Struggling to make his way to the sink for some water, even though unsure what it would do for him, yet feeling the need for it, his foot got stuck on one of the table legs and he fell forward. Reflectively he held his arms out, trying to brace himself. The agony, which tore up his right arm as his wrist snapped upon impact was almost unbearable but still was superceded by the pain in his injured side when he rolled and hit it against one of the cabinets. White hot agony cursed through him, narrowing the edges of his vision and threatened to pull him into darkness. Fighting it for just a second, after all a Winchester doesn't go down without a fight, he at last gave in, realizing there was no one there to battle for.
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A loud moan brought the young hunter back to awareness. Lying unmoving for a moment, it wasn't until the moan was repeated that he realized it had come from him.
Slowly memories of being stabbed, coming home, finding his dad and Dean gone on a hunt invaded his foggy mind. But it took yet another moan, this one more consciously, because of moving slightly, for him to remember falling and hurting his arm.
After his vision cleared and the last cobwebs blew out of his brain, he carefully scooted back along the floor, until he was able to grab unto the handle of one of the cabinets. Using it to pull himself to a sitting position, he sat still and breathed through the pain attacking him once again. When it finally subsided to a bearable level, he continued his way up until he was on his feet. Leaning heavily onto the counter, he at last managed to straighten out somewhat and move back over to the chair he previously occupied.
Flopping down hard, he waited until his breathing had evened out, then lifted his injured limb and carefully laid it down on the table. He had hoped it would turn out to be just a sprain, but judging by the odd position of the wrist and the discoloration and swelling, there was no doubt in his mind, that the extremity was fractured. Attempting to move his fingers, he found it almost impossible without flaring up the pain again.
He would have to splint his hand and lower arm and to accomplish this task, he didn't have a choice but to go upstairs. Again he moved with extreme caution, making sure not to jar his injuries any further. Holding his right arm against his abdomen, he walked to the stairs, using his left hand to hold on to whatever was available.
The stairs proofed a real challenge, as with every step up an agonizing pain stabbed through his wound. By the time he was halfway up it was only his tight grip on the banister that prevented him from falling. Looking upwards the end seemed so far away, it was almost unreachable. Yet he knew, if he stopped now, he would never start again. So he focused on the next step, and after he accomplished this one, the one after it. He went on like this, until his feet finally reached the even ground of the second floor.
Leaning against the wall, he rested until the black spots before his eyes started to dissipate, then continued on to the bathroom. Grabbing the case with the first aid supplies, he stumbled into the nearest bedroom, not caring it was his father's. By this time he was breathing hard and beets sweat rolled down his face and onto his collar. He sat and put the case down beside him before he curled up on the bed. He needed rest for just a second before taking care of his arm. With those intentions Sam closed his eyes and fell into the darkness of unconsciousness without being aware of it.
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Daylight was filtering through the window the next time Sam regained awareness. This time it took him much longer to remember what happened. Somehow everything seemed fuzzy. When he finally did, it was the memory of the double betrayal, which caused a sob to escape him, rather than the throbbing in his arm or the excruciating pain from his back. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as emotions overtook him. For several minutes he just laid there, until his mind cleared enough to regain some sense of control.
Rolling over, he reached for the first aid kit and pulled it closer. He let out a sigh of relief when he opened it and found what he was hoping for – a wrist brace. Taking it out of the case, he laid it out on the bed and gently put his fractured limb on top of it. Looking at the deformed extremity, he realized there was no way to get the brace around it unless he would be able to somehow realign the bones first. And although he really didn't want to, he also was well aware that he didn't really have a choice, unless he wanted to loose use of his hand. His fingers already had a bluish tinge to them and felt icy cold.
For several minutes he looked around, at the same time thinking about a way to accomplish a task that seemed almost unattainable without help. Finally he came up with an idea. Carefully standing up, he moved towards the closet. Opening the wing doors, he took one of his shirts out and wrapped it around his wrist. Sitting down on the floor, he closed the doors again, leaving only enough space to push his injured arm through. Then he pushed against the doors with both feet until his hand was tightly locked between the doors.
"This better work!" he said out loud, trying to brace for the painful task ahead. This was not going to be easy and could be very likely the stupidest thing he'd ever done.
"One, two,..."
Pushing his feet tightly against the doors, he used all his power to let his body jerk backwards. There was a snap in his wrist, at the same time as a scream escaped his lips. No longer able to maintain the pressure, the door opened and released his hand, making him fall all the way and hit the floor with a crash. Again he screamed, cradling the offending limb, while arching his back to take the pressure of the knife wound. Panting through the pain, he waited until the black creeping in from the sides of his vision started to fade away. When he finally was able to move again, he crawled over to the bed, pulling himself up to his knees.
Again he laid his arm out on the brace, giving it a close inspection. Satisfied that his agonizing move paid off and the bones seemed aligned again, he pulled the ends together and pressed the Velcro straps into place.
Glad that his arm was taken care of, he decided it was time to check the wound in his back. If the throbbing was any indication, it wasn't in very good shape. Using his good hand, he reached back and started to pull the tape and with it the outer layers of the gauze off. It took only a short glance to see it was soaked with a bloody and purulent looking drainage, so he carelessly let it fall on the floor before moving on to the layers still sticking to his back. As it was it proved immensely painful to try and tear them off and finally he gave up, deciding there had to be an easier way to do this.
"Guess a shower should take it right off." He decided.
It took him several tries to get on his feet and when he finally did, the room was moving, making him stumble against the wall and lean heavily against it. Only when the movement stopped was he able to walk, still holding on to prevent from falling. His progress was slow and by the time he reached the bathroom he felt the sweat run down his face and exhaustion threatened to overtake him. Sink down on the rim of the tub, he took several minutes to rest.
His next task turned out more difficult than he had hoped. Pulling the T-shirt over his head was painful, but he finally accomplished it. Only having one hand to pull his jeans off proved to be even more tricky, especially given the fact, that every movement jarred the wound in his back. By the time he was done, the thought of standing up again was more he could imagine, so he lifted his legs over the rim and let himself slide to the bottom of the tub.
Turning the water on and adjusting the temperature and stream, he moved forward, so the warm water could run down his back. The warmth made him realize just how cold he actually was and savoring the feeling, he let his weary body lean against the side and relax.
SN SN SN SN SN
A sudden shiver ran through Sam's body, making him aware of two facts. One that he fell asleep under the shower and two that there was no more hot water. Reaching for the faucet, he turned it off, then pulled a towel from the shelf unit beside the tub and started to dry off. Feeling slightly encouraged that the dressing had come off and his hand, although causing extreme tenderness when touching the area, came away clean, he moved back up onto the rim and lifted his long legs onto the floor. Using the sink he stood up and wrapped the towel around his waist.
Continuing to hold on, he tried to clear his thoughts. He felt so incredibly tired. This just seemed so wrong. Didn't only wake up a minute ago after falling asleep showering? Suddenly his mind seemed like rubber; everything was distorted and stretched out. There was something he needed to do, yet for the world, he couldn't remember what it was. And maybe it wasn't really that important. If he just would sit for a moment and close his eyes, he was sure it would all return to him.
Leaning against the wall, he slid down until he hit the floor. Letting his lids close, he was asleep before his head came to rest against the tank of the toilet.
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He was back laying in the snow in front the Wood's house, only this time he wasn't facing Brian. Instead it was Alicia looking down on him, laughing and sneering at him.
"Did you really think I could like you? You are a pathetic little nobody. I can't even say your name, it disgusts me so much."
Her face came closer and closer, finally blurring only to come back into focus, yet now it had turned into his father. The oldest Winchester was laughing loudly, his face only inches away from Sam's.
"Did you really think I wanted to spend Christmas with you? I hate you, always have. You are the reason your mother died. I can barely tolerate your presence"
Again the face changed, this time morphing into Dean. His brother leaned back, then stood up. Lifting his foot, he gave the younger man a kick in the ribs.
"Dad was right, you are a weak, you just don't have what it takes. I can't belief you are even related to me."
He walked away and left Sam reaching out for him, tears streaming down his face, "No, please, Dean don't leave me, please. No…!"
Waking up with a start, the young hunter looked around, trying to figure out were he was. He felt hot, like he was on fire, his mind to jumbled to grab on to clear thought. The only thing he knew was, he was alone and everyone hated him. Even Dean left him. The only thing, which existed, was the fire and pain in him. He deserved it because of who he was; there was no relief for him.
Letting his hand fall to the tile floor, he felt the cold coming from it. He leaned forward, permitting his body to descend onto the ground and move into a position, where he could stretch his legs out. As the soothing coolness seeped through his burning skin, hot tears rolled down onto the tiles. Sobs started to shake his body, wearing down the little bit of energy left in it. Finally his eyes closed again and he allowed sleep to claim him once again.
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The rest day was only a blur for the youngest Winchester. He hovered between recurrent nightmares from which he woke up screaming or crying and shorter lasting periods of wakefulness, during which he tried to find the coolest spot on the tile floor before falling back into a restless darkness.
By now the fever, caused by the infected knife wound had a firm grip on him and didn't allow him even enough clarity to try to replenish some of the fluids he lost from. the faucets above and beside him.
At one time he heard the phone ringing in the next room, yet it was only a distant sound, not touching him enough to wake from the depths of his fevered sleep.
TBC