Summary: Written for a prompt at the hoodie time Dean focused hurt comfort meme. While hunting an angry spirit, Dean gets thrown into a headstone and gets a head injury that temporarily messes with his vision. Sam takes him to the ER where they recommend he has rest to recover from the conk on the head. When Sam leaves Dean alone when he goes to get supplies, the spirit lures Dean out of the room where he stumbles over the hotel grounds practically blind and fighting intense headaches. Author's choice as to what the spirit does to taunt and play with Dean. Bonus for traumatized Dean clinging to Sam afterward. I'm afraid I couldn't make it work in a hotel, so I set it in some cabins in the woods.
Disclaimer: SPN belongs to the CW and Kripke. I just play for fun.
Head Games
"His head," Sam thought, "why is it always his God damned head?" The Impala roared away from the rural cemetery where the spirit of serial killer Richard Jenkins had just thrown Dean forehead first into his neighbor's headstone. Sam had been digging while his brother kept watch, and Jenkins had materialized behind Dean and sent him flying. Sam had grabbed his shotgun and fired a few salt rounds at the ghost pummeling his unconscious brother, but Jenkins rematerialized almost instantly and began attacking Dean again. There was no way Sam was going to finish digging up the grave tonight, never mind getting the bones salted and burned. The spirit wasn't going to give him the time. Sam shot another round through Jenkins and threw himself on top of his brother, the words to a banishment ritual shooting quickly through his lips. The ghost disappeared with a growl and Sam quickly pulled Dean to his feet and carried him to the Impala. The banishment wouldn't work for long and Sam wanted to be out of the cemetery before the thing came back.
Jenkins reappeared as the Impala's headlights were disappearing into the distance. In life he had been a powerful psychic, and death hadn't weakened his powers at all. It was a secret he had shared only with his victims and, when he was done with them, they had taken the knowledge to their graves. Plundering the minds of his prey had allowed him access to all their darkest fears and secrets. His talent also extended to putting things into their minds. The combination had made for some amazingly satisfactory hunts and kills. He had scanned the minds of the young men who were foolish enough to enter his territory to try to destroy him and he couldn't wait to get back together with the one he had attacked. His mind was full of self-doubt, fear and anguish. The possibilities were endless.
The dark, twisting road didn't lend itself to driving while distracted so Sam had to content himself with quick glances at his brother. Dean was slumped on the passenger side, head lolling toward Sam, who had carefully positioned him so his head wouldn't be resting against the hard window. Dean's eyes were closed and his face was slack, blood trickling sluggishly from a gash on his forehead. Keeping his eyes on the winding road, Sam reached out and touched Dean's face. His skin felt cold and Sam could feel him trembling under his fingers. He was in shock and Sam decided that Dean's latest head injury warranted a visit to the E.R. Since one of Winchester 101's lessons was to always know where the nearest hospital is, Sam knew he could have Dean there in a little under half an hour. Driving as fast as he dared on the back road, Sam headed for town
. *******************************************
The hospital was a small one, and the E.R. wasn't crowded when Sam hauled Dean through the doors. Dean had started to come around a few minutes before and his hands twitched and grasped at Sam. He was trying to talk, but only incoherent sounds were making it out of his mouth. Sam gently lowered them into the chairs along the wall and cradled Dean's head against his shoulder as a nurse made her way over.
"Is he injured anywhere else?" she asked, her gaze taking in Dean's bleeding forehead and trembling body.
Sam started to shake his head and then stopped himself as he thought of the beating Jenkins had given Dean before Sam had gotten to them. "I don't know. We were hiking and he tripped and went down an embankment. I know he hit his head on a rock at the bottom, but he could have banged himself up more on the way down."
"O.k., I'm going to get a gurney and we'll get him into an exam room. If you would fill out this form for me while you're waiting, we'd like any pertinent medical history. Can you help us out with that?"
Sam nodded. "He's my brother. I think I can give you what you need. Can I go with him to the exam?"
"I'm sorry," she smiled, but it did nothing to reassure Sam. "We need to examine your brother in private. We'll let you know when you can come in."
Sam continued to hold Dean until the orderly came to take him to be examined. Dean's hand gripped Sam's shirt as they tried to lower him to the gurney. His eyes opened, but they were dull and unfocused.
"S'm, d'n, S'm?"
Sam took Dean's hand and gently detached his fingers from their death grip on his shirt. "It's o.k., Dean. You're at the hospital. Took a pretty good conk to that thick skull of yours. The doctors are going to check you out now and I'll be in as soon as they're done." Sam filled out the information on Dean's medical history and handed the clipboard back to the nurse at the admissions desk. Trying to sit in the chairs and wait just didn't work. This wasn't Dean's first concussion and Sam knew the effects of head injuries like that were cumulative. The headaches, nausea and vision problems would probably be worse this time and memories of how awful they had been after the last concussion had Sam up and pacing the length of the small room.
An hour and a half later the nurse returned to tell him they wanted to keep Dean overnight for observation. In addition to the head injury, he had some bruised ribs and a sprained left wrist. He would probably be able to be released in the morning and Sam was welcome to stay in his room for the night.
Sam eyed her suspiciously. Generally if one or the other of them was hospitalized overnight the other had to fight to be able to stay. Usually the staff threw them out until it was either visiting hours or discharge time.
The nurse noticed his look and smiled. "He's being a little difficult." she explained. "Sometimes with head injuries like this, the patient will have some short term memory loss. We keep telling him he was hurt in a hiking accident and that you're o.k., but twenty minutes later he's forgotten what we've told him and he gets anxious and upset all over again. We can't sedate him because of the concussion, but we've given him some mild pain relievers. He's got some vision issues and a killer headache, but that should clear up in a few days. Truthfully, with the pain he's in and the problems with his sight, he should be giving us a lot less trouble than he is. Your brother's quite a handful."
"And you think keeping me where he can see me all night will make him more cooperative?" Sam smiled ruefully and sighed. The nurse was probably right. His brother, the jerk, always worried more about Sam than he did himself. Dean's head must be killing him and the combination of not being able to see and forgetting everything he was told couldn't be helping out with his being "difficult." "I'm sure "difficult" is your way of saying he's being a real pain in the ass. And he's giving you grief about me when he should be passing out from the pain like a normal patient would. Jerk."
The nurse gave him a look and Sam gave her back a real smile. "Term of brotherly affection. You should hear what he calls me."
She smiled politely and ushered him through the open door to Dean's room. The lights were dimmed and the conversation was muted and lying in the middle of a clutch of nurses struggling to keep an I.V. in his arm, was his brother. Dean's eyes were covered with small gauze patches and his hands couldn't seem to decide if what they wanted was to peel the gauze patches off or pull out the I.V.. The more the nurses tried to hold him down, the more he fought, even if his efforts were weak and not terribly effective.
"Hey,!" Sam surged forward and gently pulled the nurse away from Dean's non-I.V. arm. "Restraining him is only going to make things worse. Trust me." Although Sam had been speaking in a normal tone of voice, it was much louder than anything else in the room and Dean winced and grabbed at Sam's arm.
"Sammy? Stop yelling," he moaned. "Where you been? You o.k.? Not hurt?"
"I'm o.k.. Dean. Stop worrying about me. You're the one with all the hot nurses working on you."
"Can't see, Sam. Head hurts."
Sam realized how badly Dean was hurting when he let the hot nurses line go by. "You took a bad knock to the head, Dean. Your eyes are covered because the light would be too much for them right now and the double vision would be making you nauseous." He doesn't want to remind his brother about how bad his last concussion had been. Dean's mind doesn't seem to be up to much right now anyway.
"I'm sick?"
"Yeah, Dean." Sam pulled a chair up to Dean's bedside and made himself comfortable. He put his hand over Dean's. "They want to keep you overnight and I can take you out of here in the morning. You have to behave though, and keep the covering over your eyes and your I.V. in. Think you can manage that?"
"Not a baby, bitch," Dean muttered as he let himself relax back onto his pillow. Sam grinned at the nurse, who grinned back.
"Term of brotherly affection?" she asked good humoredly.
"That's the one." Sam replied. His relief at this sign of normalcy from his brother was short lived when Dean gasped and stiffened, his hand grasping at Sam's. Sam stared in alarm as Dean panted, breaths coming fast and short. One of the nurses pushed Sam out of the way as Dean gulped and held a basin under Dean's head as one of her co-workers rolled him onto his side to vomit. Not much came up but bile, and Sam was sure this wasn't the first time Dean had vomited. They held the basin until his retching tapered off and then rolled him onto his back where he lay still and breathed through gritted teeth,one arm wrapped around his ribs.
"Sorry about that," the nurse said. "Nausea and vomiting sometimes go along with head injuries like this. It's normal and should pass within a day or two."
Sam nodded grimly as he replied, "I know. Dean's led kind of an exciting life. This isn't the first time his head's been slammed into something. I have a pretty good idea what to expect for the next little while."
"I saw from your information that you're not from around here. He can't travel, you know. He needs to be some place dark and quiet for the next few days at least. Maybe as much as a week."
"We've been staying at the truck stop motel out by the interstate. That's not going to work at all, but I haven't seen any place else to stay around here. Is there anywhere that doesn't have eighteen wheelers pulling in and out twenty four hours a day?"
"Well, you're in luck there." the nurse replied with a smile. "My in-laws run a place a couple of miles out of town. It's cabins instead of rooms, but they're private, clean and quiet. Nothing out there, but you and the deer, especially this time of year. Ask for number eleven. It's the furthest from everything and so quiet you won't know you aren't the only people for a hundred miles."
Sam was about to thank her when Dean began to stir again. "S'm? Can't see. What happened?"
The nurse quirked her lip at Sam. "It's going to be a long night. Hopefully he'll sleep a few hours and won't be so confused when he wakes up."
"Where's Sam!" Dean was getting more insistent and starting to pull at his eye coverings again, before letting out a pained moan and grasping at his head. "Fuck. Oh, Jesus. Fuck."
"I'm here, Dean." This time Sam kept his voice low and Dean still winced.
"Hospital?"
"Yeah, you're banged up pretty good. I'm o.k., though."
"Did we get her?"
Sam glanced up quickly as the nurse again shot him a look. "Get who, Dean?"
"The zombie chick."
"There is no zombie chick, Dean. It was just a horror movie marathon." It was another symptom of how confused Dean was that he was mentioning a hunt in the middle of a bunch of civilians. Not to mention a hunt that had been over a month ago. Sam had just gotten the splint off his broken arm a few days ago. "Is it normal for him to be confusing reality with horror movies?" he asked. "We saw that movie over a month ago."
"When your brain takes a shot like that, a lot of things get confused. What's real. When things happen. He should have everything straightened out in a few days. If he doesn't, get him back here for more tests."
"There was too a zombie chick." Dean's voice was slurred and low. "She broke your delicate arm."
"Dean," Sam leaned over to speak softly into his brother's ear. "If you don't stop talking about zombie chicks they're not going to let me take you out of here in the morning. They'll keep you here and put you in a straight jacket."
"'M in a hospital?" Dean was nodding, and finally his head dropped and he fell into unconsciousness.
Sam sighed and ran his hand gently over his brother's head. "Yeah, you're in a hospital. Again." The nurse brought Sam a blanket and told him to make himself comfortable. They'd be in and out during the night to check on Dean and he should just call them if he needed anything, or Dean seemed in distress. Then they dimmed the lights and left them alone. Sam stared at Dean's bruised face and ran his thumb back and forth over his brother's hand. Eventually he lowered his head to the bed and fell asleep, waking a few times with Dean to reassure him that he was there and to remind his brother of where he was.
Sam always woke up earlier than Dean and the next morning was no exception. He slowly shook himself awake and carefully extricated himself from under Dean's hand. Even unconscious it was uncanny how Dean could make sure Sam was within reach. The bruises on Dean's face had deepened to purple overnight and his his breathing hitched painfully with every exhalation. Sam stared at him apprehensively, hoping that the Dean that woke up this morning would be more like his brother than the dazed, blinded, noise sensitive man he had been last night. A nurse that Sam didn't recognize bustled into the room, giving him a cool, professional smile. The shifts had changed and the new nurses wouldn't know how difficult dealing with a hurt, woozy Dean could be.
"Good morning!" the nurse said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to step out for a few minutes while I do a few checks on my patient. I understand you've been here all night. Why don't you run down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. It'll be about a half hour until I'm done in here and you look like you could use the fuel."
"He was having some trouble last night remembering where he was and what he doing here. Do you think when he wakes up he'll know where he is?" Sam didn't want to leave and have Dean wake up alone, not knowing what had happened.
"Well, we won't know that until he wakes up. If he comes around while you're gone, I'll tell him you just went to get something to eat and we'll page you. But you really can't stay while I'm doing my exam. Don't worry, we'll let you know when you can come back in. Now go and eat something before you end up in the next bed over."
Sam had misgivings about leaving and intended to go no further than the hallway so he could hear Dean if he woke up, but he really was starving. Figuring that just a few minutes away wouldn't hurt, he headed downstairs. The cafeteria wasn't crowded at that time of the morning and he snagged a breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee and settled in at a table to enjoy his food. Ten minutes later he felt a hundred percent better and, grabbing another cup of coffee, he headed back upstairs. The curtain was still drawn around Dean's bed, but he could hear muted voices coming from behind it.
"Wanna talk to him, get him in here now." Dean's voice was no louder than a whisper and the amount of pain Sam could hear in it had him wincing, but it sounded clearer than last night.
The nurse's reply was low and soothing. "I've just got a few more things to take care of and then we'll get him in here." Yeah, Sam could have told her thatwasn't going to go over well.
"Now."The voice was no louder, but had turned into a pain filled growl. "You're not fucking touching me again until I see that my brother's o.k.. And knock off the bitch-face, my brother does it much better."
Sam heard a huff from behind the curtain. "Your eyes are covered. You have no idea what my face looks like."
"Trust me, when you've lived with the bitch-face as long as I have you don't need to see it to know it's there." Even though the pain and volume levels hadn't changed, the tinge of amusement in Dean's voice lifted Sam's heart. "Please, you told me what happened, but I don't remember. I need to know he's all right."
The nurse sighed again.
"He does that better too."
Now hervoice sounded amused. "Really. Bitch-faces and sighs. And just what does a charmer like you do to earn so much disapproval?"
This time Dean sighed. "I dunno. Everything I guess. Everything I do is a fuck up." And the humor was gone now, just the pain remained. As quickly as it had come, the lightness in Sam's chest evaporated. Dean's armor was always chink free around strangers. Hell, even around family it was a cold day in Hell when he let how he was really feeling show. If he was letting his insecurities out to the nurses, he was still very messed up in his head.
"Hey," the tone was softer now. "He sat with you all night and I had to throw him out to go get some food while I examined you. He can't dislike you that much."
"He's really here?" The hesitation in Dean's voice was killing Sam. "You know, if he left you can tell me."
Sam couldn't stand it any more. He knocked on the door and cleared his throat as he entered. "Hey, done in there yet?"
The nurse pulled back the curtain. "No, but your brother won't let me finish until you tell him for yourself that you're all right. So tell him then get back out into the hallway so I can finish up here."
"I'm fine, jerk. Now let her finish so I can come back in and we can figure out what we're going to do when they spring you."
"Five minutes," the nurse promised and closed the curtain. Four minutes later she motioned Sam back into the room. "His doctor will be in to check on him in about an hour during morning rounds. He'll let you know when he can be released."
Sam came back into the room closing the door behind him. He took his seat next to Dean and laid his hand on his brother's arm.
"What happened, Sam?"
"Routine salt and burn turned not so routine. You hit your head on a stone."
"What kind'a stone?"
"What kind of stone do you think?"
"Tripped?"
"Thrown."
"Don't remember. Finished?"
"No. You were out and it was all over you. I didn't even have the grave half dug and there was no way it was going to let me finish. I banished it and grabbed you and took off."
"Gotta finish the job."
"We will, Dean. But you're in no shape to go out there and I can't do it by myself. When we do go back we're going to need some strong protection spells. There's something different about this thing. I'm going to do some more research into Jenkins before we go back out."
"Who's Jenkins?"
Sam sighed. "I'm not going to explain everything to you now, Dean. If you remember this conversation the next time you wake up, we'll go from here. I've lined up a place for us to stay for the next week. It's probably going to take at least that long for you to be back on your feet again. Your sight's going to be messed up for at least two or three days and your head's going to be killing you for a couple of days past that. Your ribs are only bruised, but they'll hurt like a son of a bitch for a while. Your wrist's the least of your problems, by the time everything else is healed up you'll be able to take your share of the grave digging."
"Been doin' all of it for a while now, bitch."
Sam felt a small leap at Dean's words. "You remember? Me hurting my arm?"
Dean's eyes shifted. "Sort'a. When I try too hard to think about it it goes away."
"Good. That's good, Dean. It'll all come back eventually." Sam hoped so anyway. Explaining about Andy and his evil twin and the fact that all the psychic kids so far have turned out to be killers isn't something Sam wanted to do. Dean likedAndy and Sam wanted him to remember that. Dean's breakdown on the way out of town after their zombie hunt wasn't something Sam wanted to have happen again either. If Dean didn't remember it, he might let it all build up again until he burst and Sam didn't want his brother to have to go through that a second time.
The exam and conversation seemed to have worn Dean out and he rested back against his pillow and was silent until his doctor came in to examine him. Sam had been out in the hallway for about twenty minutes when the doctor called for him to come back in.
"I'm going to be releasing your brother this morning, provided you can assure me he's going to go straight home and rest. He needs to be somewhere quiet and dark, or these next few days are going to be a lot more difficult than they have to be."
Sam gave the doctor a level look. "We don't live around here, but I've made arrangements to stay at a little place outside of town. Some cabins one of the nurses told me about. She said they're very quiet and I'm assuming they have curtains. He'll be as quiet as I can make him."
The doctor returned Sam's look with a wry one of his own. "As quiet as you can make him, then. Hopefully you can keep him more settled down than we can here. A nurse will be by soon with his discharge papers and some prescriptions you'll have to fill. Keep his eyes covered for the next day. After that you can gradually increase the amount of light as much as he can tolerate. Any problems with his breathing, or if his pain levels don't decrease, you get him back here a.s.a.p., you understand me?"
"Yes sir." Sam replied and meant it. Dean was going to keep his ass in bed and quiet if Sam had to chain him to the bedpost.
Shortly before noon, Dean was being wheeled out the front door by a muscular orderly. He had protested the chair to the best of his ability, insisting he could walk, but his complaints had tapered off when the pain in his head made just sitting up an agonizing challenge. Between the two of them, Sam and the orderly got Dean situated in the passenger seat. Sam had wanted him lying down in the back until the orderly pointed out that Sam was going to have to get Dean back out of the Impala by himself and it would be a lot easier from a sitting position close to the door. With an admiring look at the Impala and a "Damn but that's a smokin' car!" that Sam knew Dean was going to be pissed to have missed, the orderly left them and Sam took his place in the driver's seat. Between Dean's ribs and his head, there was no comfortable way to position himself, so he just curled in on himself and rested his head against the seat, facing Sam.
Sam drove as slowly as he could manage and kept a steady, soothing conversation going with his brother. It was a pretty one sided conversation as Dean was incapable of anything more than pained gasps and moans and even though it only took about twenty minutes to get to the cabins it seemed to Sam to take as many years. He pulled up in front of the cabin with the "Whispering Brook Office" sign and felt a brief moment of panic. There was no way Dean was coming into the office and Sam couldn't just leave him in the car. He was about to honk the horn and apologize for his rudeness when the manager came out, when he remembered what the sound of Impala's horn would do to Dean's sensitive hearing. Sam let out what he knew Dean would consider one of his best sighs ever and wondered why not one fucking thing in their lives could ever be easy. Just as Sam was reluctantly opening his door, a woman came out of the office and headed in his direction.
"Hey!" she greeted him with a smile. "Are you Sam?" Sam nodded and she bent down to take a look in the front seat, her face getting serious when she saw Dean. "Katie called to say you were coming. Your cabin is all set for you. It's the last one down this road. Why don't you head on down there and get your brother settled in and I'll bring the paperwork to you. Poor thing looks like he needs to be in bed five minutes ago."
"Thank you," Sam said, and put every bit of the sincere thanks he was feeling into the words. He got back into the car and drove past a playground and a picnic area to the last cabin at the edge of the woods. He parked as close to the steps as possible and hurried around to get Dean out of the car. Dean hissed through gritted teeth as Sam gingerly eased him off the seat and swayed as he was lifted to his feet.
"Sorry, Dean, sorry. Can you stay on your feet if you lean on me?" The little color Dean had under his bruises was draining out of his face until it was the same shade as the gauze covering his eyes. Sam wanted to get Dean inside as quickly as possible, but moving too fast would be disastrous. There was just no way to do this without hurting Dean, so Sam wrapped his arm around his brother's waist and winced as he felt Dean's whimper at the pressure on his bruised ribs. Tears were running down Dean's face by the time Sam basically dragged him up the steps to the cabin's porch and through the door. Sam said a silent thanks to the manager when he saw the already turned down bed and deposited Dean on it gently, positioning his head on the extra pillows and talking him through the panting, pained hyperventilating he was suffering.
"S'm? God. Hurts. 'Happened?" The words were panted out almost soundlessly.
Sam leaned over to whisper in Dean's ear. "Concussion, bruised ribs, sprained wrist."
"C'ss'n? 'gain? F'ck." With that Dean subsided into an attempt to control his breathing and relax, neither of which was particularly successful. With a few more soft words to his brother, Sam went out to unload their clothes and the general supplies and weapons bags from the car. As he returned to the cabin he twitched at the feeling of eyes on him. Slowly turning in a circle, he let his eyes sweep the surrounding woods, but saw nothing. Any hunter that discounted a feeling like that as probably being an animal was a hunter that would soon be dead, so Sam backed to the cabin and laid down salt lines as soon as he got inside.
Dean was lying still on the bed, breathing more normally so Sam took a minute to explore the cabin. Once again, the owners had shown their thoughtfulness by leaving a few days supply of food in the small kitchen. Sam had enough meds to last for a day or two so he wouldn't have to leave Dean too soon to go on a supply run. He wandered the few steps to the other side of the cabin and peeked out the back door. Two steps led down to a small yard from which a trail ran off into the woods. He didn't feel eyes upon him from this side of the cabin and he closed the door and salted across it. It was just mid afternoon at this point, but Sam was exhausted and as long as Dean was resting, he might as well nap too. Settling on the other bed, he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Outside the cabin, at the edge of the woods, Richard Jenkins flickered into existence. He'd have to be more careful, somehow the boy had suspected he was there. A day or two, he'd read in the boy's mind. Then he'd go for supplies. Leave the other alone. He smiled to himself. He'd done some of his best hunting in these woods. Would never have been found out if his damn heart hadn't given out as he was toying with what turned out to be his last victim. His last victim while he was alive anyway. Since his death he had added a dozen more. This one would be lucky thirteen. He had felt the man's physical pain from the woods, but the psychic pain underneath was what he was really after. A few days more and it would all be his.
