BROKEN
Author's note: I wish I'd been able to update this story faster but I've had a lot of stuff on my plate. I'm gonna apologize in advantage for being slow with the next chapter as well since I'll be in London on vacation next week (Yay!). I promise to be back though with more chapters! Thanks to everyone who has either followed, reviewed or added this story to your favorites. You guys are wonderful! ;)
Elisa.
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Bobby Singer was standing in the hallway of the ICU, watching the Winchester brothers through one of the windows to Sam's hospital room with an unreadable expression on his face. On the inside though – hidden from any nosy eyes that could fall upon him – Bobby's heart was bleeding. Ever since John Winchester had first left his kids in the older hunter's care, Bobby had considered Dean and Sam his boys as much as they'd been John's boys – even more after John's death that had left Bobby as the only parental figure the boys had left. That was why it was so extremely tough to see one of them down for the count, and especially considering how seriously hurt Sam was in this particular situation.
The younger Winchester brother had been hospitalized for eight days straight and so far his condition hadn't changed one bit. Sam was still comatose; unaware, unmoving and unresponsive to the world around him. Bobby felt uncomfortable every time he stepped into Sam's hospital room since every whoosh from the ventilator shattered his heart into a million pieces as it kept reminding Bobby of the fact that the kid wasn't even breathing on his own. Dean, on the other hand, was dealing surprisingly well – on the outside, at least. Bobby didn't know what exactly had motivated the older brother to do it, but Dean was determinately trying to rouse his little brother by changing Sam's room into Winchester zone. Bobby had, on Dean's demand, brought in an old cassette player on which the older brother had been playing his favorite cassette tapes for Sam.
"Wouldn't it have been better to play some of Sam's favorite songs instead of yours?" Bobby had asked with confusion when Dean had brought in the tapes.
Dean had sent him a wry smile and had dismissed the suggestion with a shake of his head. Bobby had waited for an explanation but Dean hadn't offered him one as he had pushed the play-button on the cassette player and had sat down by his brother's hospital bed once more while the tones of ACDC's Back in Black filled the room. It had taken the salvage yard owner a little while, but Bobby had in the end realized the fact that Dean wasn't trying to reach his little brother with things that Sam liked – he was trying to reach Sam with things that would remind Sam of Dean.
That was also the reason why Bobby was currently watching Dean tuck his leather jacket a little closer around Sam's shoulders before – to which Bobby raised a questioning eyebrow - waving a cheeseburger and an open beer in front of Sam's nose. The older hunter knew better than to question Dean when it came to Sam though; if anyone could bring Sam back, it was his big brother, so Bobby trusted in the fact that Dean knew what he was doing. Dean discarded the untouched cheeseburger and the beer on the bedside table before resuming his chair next to Sam, then picked up an old worn comic book and started reading aloud from it – all the while Sam continued to be unaware, like he'd been for the past eight days now.
"He seems like a great brother." A male voice said and Bobby turned his head to the side and blinked at the doctor that had shown up next to him.
The doctor gave Bobby a warm smile and nodded in direction of the brothers. Even though the man had had his doubts about Dean's story when Sam had just been brought in, the doctor couldn't deny the fact that the older brother only wanted the best for his little brother and had been trying persistently to affect Sam's recovery.
"Yep." Bobby agreed and followed the doctor's look back to Sam and Dean.
During his read-aloud from the comic book, Dean was drawing circles on Sam's right palm with a finger, which Bobby assumed was another trick from Dean to let Sam know that he was there.
"He rarely leaves his brother's side for more than five minutes at a time." Bobby admitted to the doctor and then swallowed around the lump in his throat.
That was and had always been the biggest part of what made Dean's world go round; to look out for his brother – to protect him and keep him safe. Bobby had seen it from the moment he'd first met the kids. Dean had been such a stoic little man with a smug attitude that couldn't sit still for more than two minutes at a time. But even back then, he'd always kept at least half an eye on Sam at all times. And Sam.. Bobby fought back tears as he thought back at the scrawny but incredibly smart little kid who had followed his brother around nonstop, and had asked a million questions about all and everything from the day he'd learned to talk. The same kid who was now comatose and could be facing paralysis and brain damage – if he even woke back up again.
"Well, whatever he is doing.." The doctor said, bringing Bobby back to their conversation. ".. it's working."
Bobby snapped his head to the side and looked at the smiling doctor with wide eyes as he tried to process what the man had just told him.
"Come again?" He asked and watched as the doctor pulled out some MRI-pictures from a file he was holding in his hand.
"We've been monitoring Sam's brain activity ever since he was admitted." The doctor explained. "Whenever his brother is talking to him or stimulating his senses with music and what else he's been doing, we've seen strong brain activity from Sam."
"You sure?" Bobby asked, wanting to be absolutely certain he was hearing correctly.
"Our machines don't lie, Mr. Singer." The doctor confirmed. "There's hope for your nephew yet."
Bobby let out a long breath in relief and blinked back the sting of tears before turning to look at the brothers again.
"Can I be the one to tell him?" He asked.
"Of course." The doctor said and Bobby quickly excused himself before he grabbed the doorknob to Sam's hospital room, took a big breath and opened up the door to walk inside.
"'Your parents are gone, but your brother. Your brother is still out there.' Lincoln said to Batman. 'And you'll think to yourself, he'll come for me, won't he? He'll come for me. You wait every day, all day, the owls whispering as the house around you goes to hell. '" Dean read aloud for Sam as Bobby entered the room. "'But he doesn't come. Only the owls come.' Harsh, huh Sammy? I guess not all brothers understand the true meaning of family."
The sound of Bobby clearing his voice caught Dean's attention and he glanced at the older hunter before putting the Batman comic book down.
"Hang on Sam. Bobby is here." Dean told his still little brother before turning his attention to Bobby. "What's up?"
"I've got news from Sam's doctor." Bobby said, cutting straight to the case.
"What news?" Dean wanted to know and sat up straighter in his chair, worriedly glancing at Sam and then back at Bobby.
"Good news." Bobby assured. "Sam's doctor just informed me about the fact that they've been monitoring Sam's brain activity since he was admitted to the hospital."
"And?" Dean asked with nervousness, got up from the chair and started pacing the room – despite Bobby's reassurance about good news.
"The MRI-pictures showed that whenever you're talking to Sam and are trying to stimulate his senses in one way or another, Sam is showing strong brain activity." Bobby revealed while Dean stopped dead in his tracks, his lips parting in revelation to the news. "It means that there's still something going on inside Sam's head, Dean, and you're responsible for the improvement."
Dean swallowed hard several times, big green eyes blinking at Bobby as he took in the words the older hunter had just revealed to him, and then returned to the chair next to Sam's hospital bed without a word spoken. Dean took a hold of Sam's hand and cradled it to his chest before he bowed his head down towards it and let out a shaky breath.
"Thank God, Sammy." He whispered and squeezed Sam's hand tightly. "Thank God."
For the first time in the past eight days, Bobby felt a bit of hope shining down on them.. and for the first time in the past eight days, Dean finally let his guard down a little and shed a silent tear.
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What bothered Dean more than anything else was the fact that things were never really straightforward when your last name was Winchester. When Sam had been comatose for ten days and still had to be completely immobilized, the doctors started worrying about the complications of it; bedsores and infections. The hospital staff had been trying to prevent bedsores from happening by carefully – as not to move Sam too much – placing special cushions and pads underneath the most exposed places of Sam's body to relieve pressure and protect vulnerable skin for damage. Dean had insisted on talking to Sam through it all, had explained to the doctors and nurses that if Sam could somehow hear and feel what was going on around him, then Dean wanted to make sure that Sam knew he wasn't alone with a bunch of strangers.
Bobby had had to return to Sioux Falls to get some work done, but the older hunter returned to the hospital on the twelfth day after Dean had called him to tell him that Sam was running a fever and the doctors were concerned about the symptoms of the beginning of a pneumonia.
"This is not good, Bobby." Dean said as he met up with the older man outside the hospital. "Why the hell can't we ever catch a break?"
Dean clenched his jaw hard while angrily kicking at an abandoned soda can, and Bobby noticed with concern how ragged the boy had started to look. Dean was looking tired and pale – his face sunken by the cheeks and unshaved.
"How long has it been since you last ate something and slept for more than a few hours at a time?" Bobby asked and Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Dean, I think you should take a trip back to your motel room, get something to eat, take a shower and grab a few hours. I'll look after Sam."
"I can't, Bobby." Dean said and rubbed his tired eyes with the back of his hand. "I just can't. Not as long as Sam is.."
Dean cut himself off and shook his head, but Bobby understood the meaning of it.
"How's the pneumonia talk coming along?" Bobby wanted to know.
"The doctor is treating Sam with antibiotics and a thing he called am-something-cillin." Dean answered. "If we're lucky.." He paused to let out a humorless laugh. ".. then it'll prevent the pneumonia from breaking out and complicating Sam's situation even more."
"He'll pull through, Dean." Bobby said. "Sam's a tough kid – he won't give up without a fight."
"Right." Dean said softly and then clenched his jaw in determination. "And we're not gonna give up on him either."
"Damn straight, boy." Bobby agreed, and the two of them shared a resolute look, before they went inside to be with Sam.
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Two weeks after Sam had been hospitalized, he was no longer showing signs of developing pneumonia – to his big brother's big delight. Now that he knew that the things he'd been doing was working, Dean continued to try to reach his little brother and worked even harder with every improvement in Sam's mental state that the doctor made him aware of.
On the sixteenth day, Dean was reading another comic book for Sam while his finger drew circles on the younger man's palm – a thing that had become a habit for the older Winchester brother through the many hours spent at the hospital.
"'Let's bring the fight to them while the city hides.' Robin said. 'They're people with a lot to lose, Robin.' Batman said. 'What we have to do is show the citizens of Gotham that the Bat is on their side.'" Dean read aloud from the comic book. "'As it always has been and always..'"
Dean froze midsentence as he felt something touch his hand, and looked down to see Sam's fingers lightly brushing against his.
"Sammy?" Dean asked with a heart that was now hammering rapidly inside his chest. "Sam?"
Dean rose from his chair and looked down at Sam's face; his breath catching in his throat as he saw movement behind Sam's eyelids.
"Sam if you can hear me, squeeze my hand." Dean said and then bit his lower lip hard when Sam's hand remained limp in his. "Squeeze my hand, Sam. Come on."
Dean looked down at Sam's hand again and let out a frustrated sound when the limb remained motionless. Dean had seen and felt Sam's fingers brush against his hand, right? He wasn't just making stuff up because he really wished it was true, right? Right?
"Please Sammy. If you can hear me, then.." Dean started but stopped when he felt a very weak but yet no imaginary press to his hand.
Dean then gasped and almost stumbled back in shock when he looked up at Sam's face and saw green eyes blinking back at him.
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TBC..
Ugh, I'm so sorry to leave you guys with a cliffhanger but I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me for doing so. I'm off for my vacation the day after tomorrow and will be back a week later. Promise ;)
-Elisa.