My thanks to Fanpire101 for beta-reading this story and for keeping me on track. Sincere appreciation also goes to Idreamofivan, haimavati, Dr. Serpico, bagelcat1, Guest, BonanzaRocks, suicidalunicorn97, and shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for your comments on the previous chapter. I'd also like to give a special shoutout to my husband for letting me bounce ideas off him about Sam's injuries, despite his utter lack of interest in all things Supernatural. I owe you one, honey.
None of this is mine, save any errors. I am not a doctor or medical professional, but at least I'm getting Sam some help for his injuries!
"When were you going to tell me?"
"What?" Sam looked up from the ER exam bed, where he sat adjusting the bulky black shoulder sling with his left hand.
Dean dropped his muddy boots from the end of Sam's bed to the floor and bit back his irritation. Sam had been known to deflect questions with that type of response, but Dean knew that his brother wasn't stalling this time. Sam genuinely hadn't heard him. He was studying Dean now, head tipped to one side, listening face on.
"When were you plannin' on tellin' me about this, huh?" Dean dug the words in a little deeper. "Not like you can hide it."
Sam's cheeks pinked and he broke eye contact. "It's just a mild shoulder strain, Dean."
"And a sprained elbow," Dean grumbled, gauging his brother's reaction. Sam still wasn't looking at him. A touch more gently, he added, "Plus, you can't hear."
Sam's head snapped up, features contorted in annoyance. "I can hear."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Not well."
His brother began to shrug, winced, and stilled. He picked at the bed sheet with his uninjured hand and sighed. "Didn't seem too bad at first."
Dean leaned closer. "What happened?" He hoped a nurse wouldn't venture by. Sam was having trouble modulating his voice.
His brother shuddered, the sudden motion causing him to wince again. Dean reached out and placed a hand on Sam's sheet-covered leg.
"Hey," he said, shaking his brother a little so that Sam looked at him. "You're safe here. Whatever happened, it's over now."
The younger man nodded, lips thinned into a line of pain. "Catriona cast a spell that brought dead insects to life. She had a whole pin board of butterflies." His breath hitched. "The sound of their wings was like crystal breaking and she kept cranking up the volume." Sam's free hand moved higher to cup his left ear as he spoke. "The sound just got louder and louder and higher and higher-"
"Okay," Dean interrupted, watching his brother's face pale. "I get it."
Damn freakin' witches. He put his feet back up on the bed, his boots in contact with Sam's legs, and leaned back in the chair. Physical contact in public, Winchester brother style.
Sam puckered his mouth into a frown and ventured a glance at Dean. "I can hear okay when it's quiet. I mean, everything's muffled, but ..."
"You can still make out what I'm sayin'."
Sam nodded. "But riding in the Impala is hard. I can't hear you over the music. Anything with background noise." He bit his lip, and Dean felt a touch of compassion.
"Like at the diner this morning?" he asked gently.
"It was really disorienting," Sam admitted. "It's hard to concentrate on individual sounds when there's so much going on." He waved his free hand, gesturing at the chaotic environment of the emergency ward. "All of this noise is making me dizzy." Sam shook his head, as if in an unsuccessful attempt to clear it. "I feel like I'm underwater."
"With luck, that will improve within a month." A young man in a white coat and wire-framed glasses held out a hand to Sam. "Hi, Mr. Wesson. I'm Doctor Landers."
Dean dropped his boots back to the floor. He eyed the man skeptically from his chair beside the bed as his brother shook hands with the doctor. The guy didn't look a day over twenty.
"I took over for Dr. Grizzwold at shift change," he explained. "Just wanted to touch base with you before we discharge you." He flipped through a stack of papers. "Now, you've got someone to drive you home?"
Sam indicated the scowling man seated near him.
"Good," the young man nodded. "You shouldn't plan to drive anywhere while you have those painkillers in your system."
Sam nodded again.
The doctor turned to Dean. "You can fill these scripts here, if you'd like. There's a pharmacy next door." He handed a few sheets of printed paper to the older man.
Confusion crawled across Sam's face. "Your meds," Dean said, directly to Sam, waving the papers slightly. The wrinkle between Sam's eyes visibly relaxed.
Dean's stomach clenched at his brother's open vulnerability. He closed his eyes until he felt more composed. He had to remain strong for Sam.
Fortunately, his brother hadn't noticed Dean's discomfort because the doctor was talking directly to Sam now. "I've looked over your scans and consulted with radiology. Your arm should heal up just fine. None of the pins shifted. You should consult with an orthopedist when you get home, though, all right?" Dean watched as his brother dutifully nodded, knowing full well that Sam had no intention of following through on such a minor injury. "You should wear the sling until then." Sam nodded again.
Dean frowned, wishing for a better option. Cas was MIA and had been for some time. Dean had called nearly a dozen times, but the angel wasn't returning his messages. The hunter tried not to dwell on what that might imply. Sam needed him. They were in this alone for now, which meant that Dean couldn't panic. His brother could read him like an extra sense, and Sam was busy putting that ability to full use now. No need to upset Sammy, especially when he was already in a weakened state.
One day at a time, Dean reminded himself, recalling his brief stint in AA. Funny how those coping techniques came back at the oddest times...
Abruptly, he realized that the doctor had been speaking with Sam for some time now. He tuned in to hear, "...two burst eardrums. Given the circumstances of your injury, you're lucky you can hear at all. Best case scenario, your ears should heal up in about a month."
Sam smiled until the doctor cleared his throat and continued, "But given your sustained exposure to loud noise, it's likely that you have some permanent high frequency hearing loss."
Sam blanched at the doctor's blunt delivery of this news. Dean sucked in a breath and tried to stay calm for his brother. He could feel anger surging through him, an unpleasant reminder of his time with the Mark.
No one hurts my Sammy and gets away with it! Dean wished he could kill the Loughlin witches a second time. And a third.
"The good news is that your hearing shouldn't get any worse than it is now. You can only improve from here." The doctor gave the Winchesters a bright, artificial smile which neither brother reciprocated. "You need to follow up with an ENT when you get home, all right?"
Both hunters looked up. Sam swallowed, hard, looking like he was fighting nausea. Dean felt like throwing up as well. He suspected that his sibling might actually make this appointment. Especially if his big brother forced the issue.
Damn, where're we gonna get the money? Credit card scams were getting harder to work, especially since they used the bunker as a fixed base of operations. People in town had begun to recognize them. And it looked like Sam might need regular visits to a doctor. Dean chewed a fingernail.
"I'll get Jackie to draw up your discharge papers," Dr. Landers said. He touched Sam lightly on his uninjured shoulder. "Hang in there." His false cheerfulness rang in the air long after he left.
Sam met Dean's eyes briefly before he shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry, Dean," he whispered.
Dean scooted the chair closer to the bed. "Nothing to be sorry about, Sammy. Except for not tellin' me," he amended. "We'll get through this."
Sam sniffed.
Dean shook his head and wrapped his arms around his chest. His brother sat rigidly on the hospital bed beside him, staring at the floor with unshed tears, looking as wrung out as Dean felt.
This is bad. This is so bad. This is so damn bad. Dean tried to swallow a rising sense of panic but it was no use. Ears and eyes are critical to the hunt. Dad had drilled that into them since they were young.
Maybe Cas can heal him? Dean knew there were some things even the angel couldn't fix. But we have to try. Damn Cas for choosing the worst possible moments to disappear.
Dean clenched his jaw. A month, minimum, before we know the full extent of this nightmare. A month that Sam definitely won't be hunting. Because even if he could, there's no freakin' way I'm putting his life at risk like this. All a Supernatural fugly has to do right now is make a lot of noise and Sam's toast.
Dean chewed his lip as he studied his baby brother, the one he had failed to protect. Again.
Damn, I need a drink.
Sam wiggled on the bed and Dean realized that he was trying to extract himself from the hospital gown. The older brother stood and helped him to remove the garment. A tip of Dean's head and a nod from Sam had the brothers agreeing to leave Sam's undershirt off for now, so as not to disturb the sling. Dean eased Sam back into the blood-stained checkerboard flannel.
"Thanks, Dean," his brother mumbled.
The older hunter gripped Sam's free shoulder and squeezed. "I gotcha, Sammy. It's gonna be okay."
It's never gonna be okay! Dean's inner voice argued. What in the hell are we gonna do now?