Chapter three
Pain. The mother of all headaches. He cursed, but no sound came out of his mouth. His throat felt dry. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve the pain, but it didn't help. Opening his eyes only made it worse. He took a deep breath and grimaced in pain. Closing his eyes, he tried to figure out what was going on. The demon, he remembered. It possessed dad. It hurt Dean, but then it was gone. They were on their way to the hospital. Opening his eyes, Sam was pretty sure they made it there, he just couldn't understand why he was the one lying in bed. He called out for Dean, but no voice came out. Turning his head slightly to the side proved to be impossible. Something was stopping him from moving his head. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and ran a mental list of his injuries. The headache seemed the worst. He was having some trouble focusing his eyes, but after blinking a few seconds, the room came to focus. Maybe a concussion. That could explain the headache, but why? Going farther down the list; his back – it was so sore. Someone must have punched him up real good. Maybe the demon caught up with them? The last bullet! Sam sucked in his breath. Did they have to use the last bullet to save him? That would be the second bullet wasted on him instead of the demon, and their last chance to kill it! Was that what happened? Someone jumped them or something? He tried calling for Dean again, his hoarse voice foreign to his ears. But Dean didn't answer, and Sam's heart began to speed up. There was something wrong. He could feel it. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, go back to his mental list of his injuries. His back hurt, a lot, and his right arm, too, but that's it. His legs didn't hurt one bit. Come to think about it… Sam sucked in his breath, panic washing over him. No, no, no, no! His heart was racing now, little beads of sweat trickling down his brow. He couldn't move his legs. He couldn't even feel them.
"Oh, God, no!" he cried out, fighting with all his might to move his legs, trying to move his head and see if he was successful, but his head was held in place. Only logical, if he broke his spine, Sam thought, but that thought only brought on a new wave of panic.
"Shh, relax, sugar. You need to calm down." A nurse was by his side. She was African-American, in her early fifties. Silver streaked her dark hair, pulled up in a tight bun. "You keep this up you're gonna hurt yourself, boy." She told him.
"I can't feel my legs!" Sam breathed, and the nurse touched his arm sympathetically.
"I know, sugar. You took quite a hit. You were a real mess when they brought you here." She said. "But don't worry just yet." She added. "Your x-rays don't show anything broken. Your back's really swollen, that's probably why you can't move your legs, but don't worry. The docs don't think it's gonna last. Probably just for a couple of days, until the swelling goes down." She said, disappearing behind him. Sam tried tilting his head back to look at her, but again, something stopped him. A neck brace. "You try not to move too much, boy. No reason making any damage permanent, is there?" the nurse's voice came from behind him and soon he could see her again as she helped him to some water. Sam coughed, choking on the water, but she helped him drink some more.
"My brother. And my dad, where are they?" Sam asked when he could breathe again.
"It's better if you tried to rest. You're gonna need all your strength if you want to get better." The nurse avoided the question, and Sam's heart somersaulted.
"My brother and my dad, are they okay? Are they here?" he asked again, fighting again to see anything to his sides. The nurse held his shoulders in place and Sam winced at the pain in his back.
"You really shouldn't move." The nurse said authoritatively, and then sighed. "Your daddy's in a bad shape." She said, taking a step back so that Sam would be able to see her better. "He's still in the ICU. He was really messed up when they brought him here. I can call, ask about him if you want, but you have to promise me you wouldn't try to move or do anything stupid like that." The nurse said. Sam looked at her. She didn't seem like she was about to say anything else. Oh, God, please, no. His stomach lurched.
"My brother?" Sam asked in a shaky voice. The nurse was quiet for a moment, and then said,
"He's gone." Sam's heart missed a beat. His eyes filled with tears. He started shaking. No. No, that was impossible! Dean couldn't be… There's no way! He can't be dead! "Oh, he's not dead," the nurse said quickly, seeing his reaction, and Sam let out a small whimper, tears falling from his eyes. "He's just… gone." The nurse added.
"What do you mean?" Sam mouthed the words, because no voice came out.
"They took him. They brought him here, waited just until we got him stabilized, and then took him." She said. Sam shook his head. That wasn't any less encouraging. Someone took his brother, someone took Dean. He was beat to hell even before the accident, and now… And it was like a light went on in Sam's head. The car accident. The truck ramming them off the road. He remembered. Man, Dean's gonna be pissed off that he ruined his car. Dean!
"What do you mean, 'they took him'? Who took him?" Sam demanded.
"Boy, you're going to have to relax, or I'll be forced to do something about it." The nurse cautioned him, again forcing his shoulders down.
"Who took my brother?" Sam yelled, but it came out more like a strangled rasp.
"I don't know," the nurse said, "police, FBI, I don't know. They had badges, and they took him. Had med-evac and everything." She shrugged. "They were in a real hurry, too. Couldn't wait for us to get that boy stabilized." She added, disappearing behind Sam again. Sam closed his eyes, his throat and chest constricting. Someone had Dean. The demon, probably. It probably possessed some cops and took Dean, maybe to be used as leverage to get the colt. But why? It could have killed them all right there, why take Dean? Why not take him? Sam closed his eyes. His head exploding with pain and reeling with the bad news. He didn't even feel the prick of the needle in his arm, he just felt himself growing more and more groggy, until he fell asleep.
Two days later, when the feeling started to return to his legs, they allowed him to get out of the bed and visit his dad. A couple of nurses eased him into a wheelchair and guided him to the forth floor. John was no longer in the ICU, he was moved to a regular room, but was still pretty heavily sedated. He barely even stirred the entire time Sam sat by his bed.
Sam was sedated too, most of the time. He hated that. There was no time for them to be lying around. Dean was missing. Who knows who had him, or what shape his brother was in? Sam would have stormed out of the hospital in search of his brother two days ago, or right now, if he could only stand on his feet for longer than it took him to fall face down on the floor. It frustrated him. He didn't know what to do. He had to go after Dean, he had to find his brother, and fast, but he couldn't even stand up on his own, and his father wasn't really there even when he was conscious. Sam couldn't help but feeling time was running out. He screamed in anger, smashing a drug-tray to the floor, the medicine flying all over. They kept him restrained after that, and it only frustrated him more.
The first call came that night, or rather, the next morning. It was just past four A.M, anyway. Sam jumped as a phone in his room rang, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was completely immobilized. A nurse came in the room a couple of seconds later, picking up the phone and bringing it over to him.
"We don't usually allow this," she told him in a hushed voice, not wanting to wake the other patients in the room up, "but I think you want to take this call." She added, putting the phone to his ear. Sam looked questioningly at her, but she just smiled kindly at him.
"Hello?" Sam asked, his mind racing. Who could be calling him? Dean? The demon?
"Sam Winchester?" it was a woman. He didn't recognize the voice.
"Who is this?" Sam demanded. There was a slight pause, and Sam's heart raced. "Who are you? Where's my brother?" Sam shouted and was quickly hushed by the nurse, who gave him a disapproving glare.
"I just thought you'd want to know," the woman said in a small voice, "he's going to be fine. They told me there's no permanent damage." She added.
"You tell me where my brother is, or I swear I'll hunt you down and…" there was no reason to continue his threat. The woman hung up on him. Tears welled up in Sam's eyes. He shouldn't be lying in a hospital, he should be out there looking for Dean! Sam let out a frustrated cry, fighting his restraints, and then suddenly the windows shuttered, showering him and the others in the room with shards of glass.
The second call came a couple of days after that. His father was more coherent by then, and he took the news of Dean's abduction hard. Sam knew his dad would have been out of the hospital by now if he could, but neither of them were in any condition to leave, no matter how much they wanted to. Sam hated it, hated how frustrated he felt, how worried and lost and afraid he felt. He just had too much time on his hands to think of all the worst case scenarios, and he hated that there was nothing he could do about it.
The nurses called the cops at his reaction, figuring something must be wrong if he kept screaming someone took his brother. The cops tried their best to sound sympathetic, to help, but really, what could Sam tell them? Dean was legally dead, he couldn't ask the cops to go looking for a dead person. And what was he supposed to say when they asked if his brother had any enemies? Yeah, a bunch of pissed off spirits, a poltergeist or two, and oh, yeah, the demon that killed our mom and my girlfriend didn't take the fact that my brother killed its kids too well, should that count? Sam had to convince a psychologist that he wasn't completely insane after that. Luckily, his dad helped, giving some made up story about Dean being in the witness protection program under another alias, and suggesting someone took him so they could better protect him. The cops seemed to buy that.
This call came at noon, just as Sam was wheeled back to his own room. The nurse came by quickly, helping him to the bed, and then gave him the phone.
"It's the third time she's called in the last hour." The nurse informed him, cautioning him not to move too much or they would restrain him again. Sam put the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" he asked, swallowing hard. The woman's voice sounded smaller this time, exhausted even.
"Sam?" she asked, making sure.
"Where's my brother?" Sam demanded, the hand holding the phone shaking.
"He finally woke up today." She said, and sounded truly relieved at that. "I thought he might want to talk to you, but he passed out again." The woman said.
"Where is he? Is he okay?" Sam asked, his voice strangled.
"I hope so." She said. It seemed like she wanted to say something more, but she didn't.
"Listen to me, you bitch," Sam said venomously, "you hurt my brother, and I'll make you wish you were never born, you hear me?" he cried, ignoring the shocked look from the nurse by his side. There was no answer from the other side of the line. "You tell me where my brother is right now, or I'll make you pay, bitch, you hear me?" Sam demanded.
"Calm down, Sam." She said, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Don't you tell me to calm down!" Sam snapped, "Who are you? What do you want with Dean? Where is he?" he demanded, but all Sam could hear was the click sound when she hung up on him again.
TBC
