Greetings! It's time for the weekly update to this story. I'm doing Nano again this year, so don't expect much on my other stories this month (I'm far enough ahead on this one to continue weekly posts). I'll get back to regular updates on them after November. There is another chapter of L&D pending my awesome editor's review, so it should post pretty soon. I hope you enjoy this!
Chapter Four
Aftermath
Sam waited next to Dean in the emergency room. Sam had already filled out all the paperwork and now they were waiting to be seen by the triage nurse. It bothered Sam a little – no, a lot – that he knew more about emergency room procedures than anyone else who was not in medicine. He was definitely not planning on being pre-med. Pre-law was starting to sound pretty good, though.
"Dean Winchester?"
Dean leaned over before he stood up to follow the nurse who looked like an army reject. "You do know Dad is gonna kill you for using our real names, right?"
Sam just shook his head. Actually paying their medical bills might have been rare, but it was not unheard of. He followed in his brother's wake, determined that Dean not try to hide anything else.
"Something wrong with your collar bone?" she asked as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Dean's right arm. Before he could answer, she stuck a thermometer in his mouth. Dean shot Sam an irritated look.
"Yes, ma'am," Sam answered for his brother. "It's bruised really bad, I'm afraid it might be fractured."
"Fractured, huh? I don't suppose you'd mind if a doctor diagnosed it?" she snapped, reading her gauges. "BP is 120 over 85 and temp is a little high."
"High?" Sam stepped closer so he could read it. "102?" He shot a sharp look at Dean, which was waved off. Using his good arm, of course.
"Okay, let's see it."
"Get out, Sam." Dean glared at him.
Sam stood his ground. "Who do you want to help you with your shirt, me or her?"
"Nobody!" Dean snapped. "Out!" But Sam was not going anywhere. He stood stubbornly beside his brother until Dean rolled his eyes and sighed with frustration. Dean removed his outer plaid shirt easily. To take off his t-shirt, he pulled his left arm out first. Then he used his left arm to pull the shirt over his head and finally off his right shoulder and arm. He grimaced during the last part. The fact his brother even showed he was in pain was enough to set Sam's stomach twisting again.
Sam heard the nurse's sharp intake as she saw Dean's shoulder for the first time. "Turn around," she ordered. Dean did and Sam started to feel woozy. His back was covered with long, straight bruises. "Son, who the hell beat you like that?" She was breathless.
Dean cast a look over his good shoulder. "You shoulda seen the other guys," he said, his face in that patented Dean Winchester lop-sided grin. The nurse managed to chuckle, but Sam had the feeling Dean was quite serious about it.
"When did this happen?" she asked, making rapid notes on her clipboard.
"About a week ago."
"A week?" She looked up sharply. "You've gone a whole week like this?" Now she turned her ire on Sam. "Why didn't you make your brother come in sooner?"
Sam glared back. "I would have if he had bothered to tell me!" Dean's eye rolls were so loud everyone in the waiting room probably heard them.
"Wait a minute," the nurse paused in her exam, "was this last week? Bar fight or pool hall?"
Sam felt his eyebrows arch as he waited for his brother to answer.
Dean met his eyes as he replied, "Pool hall." His voice said: I didn't lie to you.
The nurse nodded. "I seem to recall a few guys in here who took a nasty beating at a pool hall last week. Guess you were one of them, huh? Must have been some fight."
"Yeah," Dean grinned again, "it sure was."
"Wait here. I think you're next." She bustled out of the small triage room.
"How many?" Sam demanded.
Dean's eyes squinted. "Don't you mean 'how much'?"
"No," Sam's patience was pretty much gone by now, "I mean how many guys?"
He shrugged that left shoulder again. "I don't really remember. It was kinda dark."
"Dean."
"Honest, Sam. I don't remember." His left hand ran over the top of his head. "I don't even remember how I got back to the motel that night."
Sam felt his eyes widen. That must have been the night Dean came stumbling in. Sam had assumed his brother was drunk and had been merciless about waking him up the next morning.
"Dean, you might have had a concussion. You really should have told me." He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and guilt twisted his stomach until he felt nauseous.
Dean grimaced. "Why? So you could drag my ass off to some hospital? Come on, Sammy. You know we can't afford this. I've been riding Dad's ass not to move us again until summer." He blew out a long breath. "So much for that."
"I'll get a job." Even as the words tumbled out of his mouth, Sam was surprised to hear them.
Dean, however, laughed. "Oh, no, you won't. Your job is school and Dad's research assignments. I'll figure something out."
"No pool," Sam said, lowering a finger at Dean. "Promise."
"Yeah, sure, Sammy. No problem." Sam could not be sure, but he thought Dean might be lying.
"Dean? Come on back." It was the stocky army nurse again. She led them back to a white curtained area. Sam followed, intent on making sure Dean allowed the examination. The look on her face showed disapproval, but she said nothing. Apparently the short time she spent with Dean had been enough to convince her that he was not the best patient.
Sam insisted on driving back to the motel. Dean was on painkillers and his arm in a sling to immobilize his collarbone. As they pulled into the parking lot, Dean turned sleepy eyes on Sam.
"Don't tell Dad. I'll figure something out." He yawned.
Sam chewed his lower lip. It was not that he and Dean never hid anything from their Dad, heck, Sam usually lived for that, but downplaying injuries ranked right up there with treason as far as Dad was concerned. "We'll see," he said, opening the car door.
"No, no, no, Sammy." Dean wobbled as he got his feet under him. "You don't understand. He'll be mad." His brother's eyes were wide.
"When isn't he mad?" Sam demanded, taking Dean's good arm to lead him back to the room.
"I never told him," Dean continued, staring at Sam. "Don't ever," Dean imitated their father, "downplay an injury, son." He sighed. "Dad will be so disappointed. I hate it when he's disappointed."
Sam cringed. Yeah, he hated it when Dad was disappointed in Dean, too. He hated the way it ripped Dean up, the way it tore into his brother in a way nothing else could. But by the same token the slightest praise, or hint of praise, had Dean walking on cloud nine for weeks.
Sam settled Dean on the bed. He found an old Godzilla movie on and Dean fell asleep while watching. Sam snagged Dean's cell and went outside. He debated with himself for at least ten minutes before making the call.
"Better be good, Dean." Their father's voice boomed.
"It's Sam, Dad." Sam tried to wet his dry lips, but it was difficult when his mouth was dry, too.
"Sam? Why are you using Dean's phone?" Dad demanded. "What's wrong with Dean?"
Sam cringed. Dean was going to kill him. "Dean has a fractured collar bone, Dad. He's out cold right now because of the pain killers."
A deep growl sounded over the phone. "Any idea what happened?"
Sam took a guilty look at their door. He decided to go for mostly truth. "Well, Dean has been pretty moody for about a week. I thought it was just because we both forgot his birthday. But when my principal grabbed his shoulder and he went down…"
"Wait a minute! Hold on!" Dad shouted. "Your principal? What the hell does your principal have to do with this?"
Oh, right. Forgot about that part. "Um, well, he tried to call you but he had to settle for Dean. I was fighting during class. But that isn't the point here," Sam rushed to say.
"You fighting in class isn't the point, Sam?" Dad sounded angrier by the second. He was definitely not doing this right. "Then what is the point?"
Sam ran a hand through his hair. Deep breaths, calm down. "Okay, my point was that Dean's hurt and can't hunt with you for a while. And I don't know if I'll be able to convince him to keep wearing the sling like he's supposed to. I'm sure Dean will have a few words to say about me fighting in class and almost getting…" his voice trailed off. Actually, Sam had no idea if he was suspended or not.
"Almost getting what, Sammy?"
"It's Sam, Dad." That was stupid. Let's just antagonize Dad now too, shall we? "I was going to say almost getting suspended, but I'm not sure. We kinda left before he got around to that."
"You left? While your principal was deciding if you were suspended or not? What were you thinking, Sammy?"
"Well, at the time I was thinking the jerk had better let go of my brother. Dean was on his knees, Dad, in pain. I've never seen him like that before." Sam heard the shudder in his voice. Dean was not supposed to get hurt, he was supposed to be indestructible.
"Okay, okay, Sam. Relax." He could hear Dad's breathing on the other end of the line, which meant his dad was thinking. Sam waited, worrying about their father's decision. Dad's decisions were always final. Always. "Okay, Sammy. I'm going to call your principal in the morning and see what the hell is going on. In the meantime, you look after your brother. And if he gives you any grief about the sling, you just tell him it's an order from me. He won't question that."
Sam let out a breath of relief. Then another piece of crucial information popped into his head. "Dad? Principal Jones threatened to call CPS. That's why we were leaving."
"And that's when he grabbed Dean?"
"Yes, sir."
He heard Dad sigh heavily. "I'll handle it. You might as well stay home from school tomorrow and try to look after your brother. If he gives you too much grief about anything he's supposed to be doing, make it an order from me. I'll call tomorrow."
"Yes, sir. Uh, Dad?" Sam paused, biting his lip.
"What?" The tone in his father's voice asked 'how much more could there possibly be?'
"Uh, thanks. Dad. Thanks."
"Yeah, sure, son. Better go check on Dean. Oh, and Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"You're both grounded until further notice." The connection went dead with a finality that was so like Dad. Sam could not help but grin at the phone as he headed back into the crappy motel room he and Dean called home at the moment. Now he had a way to make Dean follow the doctor's orders. Of course, Dean was going to be really, really, really pissed. Oh, well.
Sam let himself back into the furnished room. He reached out to replace Dean's phone when a voice startled him.
"Called him, didn't you?"
Sam looked at Dean through his long bangs. "Yeah. Sorry, Dean, but I figured I'd probably need the big guns to get you to follow the doctor's orders."
Dean rolled his eyes. When the green orbs settled, he sighed expressively. "So, how mad was he?"
"We're both grounded until further notice," Sam replied, picking up the TV remote.
"And?" Dean waited.
Right, he must be worried about Sam's school, too. "And he said he'd handle my principal, that you shouldn't worry about it."
"No, Sam." Dean struggled to sit up against the headboard. Sam knew better than to try to help but he cringed at the sight anyway. "What other punishment?"
"Nothing, Dean." Sam shook his head. "Dad seemed more upset about me getting into a fight in school than anything. Oh, and he said wearing that sling was an order."
Dean's brow furrowed. "No other punishment?" He nodded slowly. "Dad must be saving that for when he's back home."
Sam doubted that, knowing how worried Dad was about Dean, but he did not voice it. It actually seemed to comfort his big brother, like Dad being mad equaled Dad caring. Well, if he looked at it like that, Dad cared an awful lot about Sam. If that really was the case, then Dad actually cared more about him than Dean. No, Sam refused to believe that. Dean was the good son.
As Dean dozed the rest of the evening, Sam couldn't help thinking about how stupid his big brother could be. Okay, it was in a heroic kind of way, but still stupid! Dean could have been hurt far worse than that. He should have been checked out that night, when he probably had a concussion.
Still disgruntled, Sam ordered Dean's favorite pizza, the meat supreme. He felt like getting just a plain cheese and letting his big brother bitch about it as punishment for hiding this injury. Then Sam remembered what Dean said about what might happen after Dad came home. Dean could be right, even if Sam didn't want to believe it. It wouldn't be the first time Dad surprised or disappointed him.
"Paper?" Dean asked as a commercial came on.
Sam held up his notebook. "Working on it."
"Need any help?" his brother asked, somewhat glazed eyes focused on the small television.
"Nah," Sam replied. "I got it."
"You never told me what you're doing it on," Dean said.
Sam chewed his lower lip before answering. "Nope."
Dean shrugged with his good shoulder, using the remote to flip through the channels.
A fresh stab of guilt tore through Sam. He sighed heavily. "You and Dad," he admitted, hoping Dean was too doped to remember.
Dean turned heavily medicated eyes on Sam. "What?"
He was saved from answering by a heavy knock at the door. "Probably the pizza." Sam jumped up, relieved by the distraction. He grabbed Dean's wallet as he headed for the door.
"Don't tip if it's cold," Dean warned from behind him.
Sam nodded as he reached for the doorknob. He flung the door open to reveal two uniformed officers. Crap.
"Y-yes?" Sam stammered. "Can I help you?"
One of the officers consulted a thick notebook. "Winchester?"
Sam's mouth dried up completely, making it impossible to even swallow. He managed to nod, however. Only after the second cop peered into the room, making a face when he saw drugged-Dean, did the fact he should have lied occur to him.
"We are following up on two reports which appear to be related," the first officer explained. "Is Dean Winchester here?"
"He's my brother," Sam said defensively. "But he's not really up to visitors right now."
"Oh?" The officer's pen hovered over the notebook. "And why is that?"
Sam tried to swallow again, but couldn't work up enough spit to do it. "Busted collar bone," he said, deciding that the truth was probably best for now. "They drugged him out of his gourd in the ER. I doubt he'd make any sense right now."
"Sammy!" Dean snapped, urgency lacing his words. "Look!"
Sam motioned for the officers to stay where they were as he checked on his brother. "What, Dean?"
Dean pointed out a woman selling wood floor cleaner. "Check it. She's hot."
Sam nodded appreciatively at the commercial. "How're you feeling?" he asked when the hot cleaning woman was replaced by a frisky puppy.
Dean gave him a wide, bright grin. "Real good. Sam, you should try this stuff. It's great."
Sam chuckled as he turned around, heading back to the officers waiting in the doorway.
"I see what you mean," the first officer said. "We can come by tomorrow. What time would be good?"
Sam shrugged. "We might leave to grab something to eat, but otherwise we should be here."
The second officer eyed him suspiciously. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"
Sam shrugged again. "Not if my brother needs me here."
"Dude!" Dean's voice rang out again. "You gonna pay for that pizza or date the delivery guy?"
Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Maybe you should go now," he told the officers as he noticed a guy in a red jacket carrying a pizza box. Sam waved to him, pushing past the cops. He pulled a twenty out of Dean's wallet, passing it over to the delivery guy. "I'm sure my brother will be more himself tomorrow," he explained as the delivery guy handed over his change. Sam hesitated before offering a dollar as tip. Yeah, it was a lousy tip, but this money came at a high price. The guy should be happy to get a tip at all.
The first officer gave Sam his card before they left, promising to come back tomorrow. Sam stuffed it in Dean's wallet along with the change from the pizza.
That comment about school got Sam thinking. If it was his principal who called, then shouldn't he be suspended? So why would the cop ask if he should be in school? And if it wasn't his principal, then why did they come? He and Dean would have to discuss it after the heavy hospital meds wore off.
Sam grabbed the roll of paper towels they kept in the dresser before approaching his brother with the pizza.
"There you are," Dean said, but he did not sound upset. "What the hell took you so long?"
Sam flipped the pizza box open on the bed next to Dean. "I'll tell you in the morning," he promised.
Dean shrugged as he reached for a slice. Sam marvelled at the fact his brother was so willing to let that go, at least for now. Was it the medication or was that just Dean? As he chewed through several slices of pizza, Sam pondered that question.
Before the cops showed he had filled two pages of his notebook with complaints about Dean being a stubborn, self-sacrificing ass. Those needed to be in the dumpster before Dean got up in the morning. Sam tore the two pages out of his notebook, folded them to stuff in his back pocket. He studied Dean's column for a long time before he picked up his pen again.
Sam went up to 'acts selfish' and crossed out selfish, writing in 'rude.' Then he added 'self-sacrificing', 'never complains,' and 'does stupid things trying to make things right.' He pondered it for another few minutes before adding 'trusts family blindly.' Sam moved over to Dad's column to add 'trusts Dean to take care of things' and 'doesn't trust anyone or anything blindly.' Sam found that he actually preferred Dad's way on that. Blind trust was just asking for trouble. He flipped back to compare to add 'hustles pool/darts/poker for spending money.' Well if his principal hadn't called CPS yet, that comment in his English paper would do it. Sam put a mark next to it and all the references to hunting, to remind himself not to use those.
Sam studied his lists, wondering if he had enough for a paper yet. He laughed at himself when he realized he had not covered the obvious: Dad's and Dean's physical appearances, voices, how they dressed. He drew a line below his current lists, so he would have room to go back and add comments if he wanted. Below the line he listed their physical characteristics. Sam surprised himself by putting 'laughs/happier' under Dean's column. He never really saw that in his brother before, or maybe he just didn't appreciate it. He was pretty sure it was no coincidence that all of them dressed alike. Dean dressed like Dad and Sam dressed like Dean. That was probably significant. Sam filed the information away mentally to use later and put a star next to it on his compare page.
Sam rubbed at his sore neck, slowly becoming aware of deep breathing from the other bed. Dean was sound asleep. Sam smiled to himself as he shut off the television. He tried to be quiet as he cleared the pizza off Dean's bed and changed, even though Dean could probably sleep through a tornado right now.
