So sorry it's taken so long to get this update out! Hope you like it!
I don't own these characters.
Sam let the blackness surround him. He wrapped himself up in it like it was a warm blanket. He was finally safe. He was in a place where they couldn't touch him. It was quiet here. It was peaceful. The light outside was the enemy, and he tried to keep himself away from it.
"...Sam, can you hear me?"
That voice again. Voices in the head. That was a sure sign of crazy. He was crazy. Bet his dad would be proud of him now. Let the demons get the drop on him.
That voice though...it sounded like Dean's. Did the demons possess Dean now?
A smell drifted into the air around him and it made him pull himself away from the darkness momentarily. The darkness was sweet and warm and comfortable, but the smell drove the hunger inside him to force his body to act against his will.
Jerky? Was that jerky? He remembered beef jerky. Dad had it in the glove compartment all the time. A quick fix to a growling tummy. Jerky smells funny, but it smells good. Strong. A quick fix to a growling tummy.
"C'mon, Sam, I know you're hungry..."
That voice again. It was definitely Dean's voice. These men hadn't hurt him yet. Maybe they were stuck here too. Maybe the demons were keeping them here. Jerky. The jerky smells good. They have jerky. Jerky is a quick fix to a growling tummy. Maybe just a bite? No...no...don't take it away. Just a bite. No no no no no no no no no no don't touch me. Don't touch me. Jerky...jerky...quick fix to a growling tummy...
...
Dean frowned as he watched Sam sniff the air. The jerky had been his dad's idea. He had run out to the car and grabbed it from the glove compartment.
Sam had been acting like a scared, sick animal. Animals responded to food.
Dean held the jerky out again and Sam moved forward slowly. His good eye was unfocused and it darted around nervously, not settling in any one spot for long.
As Sam moved further forward, Dean moved away, coaxing Sam out of the corner. Carefully, he reached out and gently touched Sam's arm. He immediately regretted the action as he watched Sam shrink back from the touch, making an awkward, frightened sound. He curled back into the corner, but his eye locked on the jerky. It was the first time Dean had seen Sam focus on anything since they found him here hours earlier.
Dean held the jerky up again and Sam again moved forward. Dean tore off a piece of the jerky and held it out to Sam. He held back a startled gasp as Sam quickly snatched the piece from his hand and backed himself into the corner again. Sam stuffed the jerky into his mouth and barely chewed before he swallowed.
Dean tried to keep his emotions in check. It was killing him to see his brother like this. Sam was acting like a scared dog. He couldn't recognize the cowering figure in front of him as the strong, intelligent brother he knew so well.
Dean almost didn't notice as Sam slowly crept forward again. This time, Sam's eye was focused on Dean. Dean tried to keep his gaze steady. He smiled slightly and held the jerky out to Sam again. Sam snatched the jerky, but this time, he didn't move back to the corner.
Before Dean could stop him, Sam stuffed the entire piece of jerky into his mouth. He chewed a few times and swallowed the entire lump with a huge gulp. Immediately, his face turned green, and as Dean knew would happen, the jerky came immediately back up. Sam leaned over and heaved. His entire frame shook. Dean watched the tremors run through his brother's body as he retched.
He reached forward to put a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder, but his father stopped him.
"Wait, Dean," John whispered. His eyes were tortured as he watched his youngest. "Give it a minute. He'll wear himself out."
True to John's predictions, Sam was soon heaving, drawing deep breaths in as though he'd just finished a marathon. He cast a wary glance toward Dean and John before he collapsed into a weary heap on the floor.
"Now," John said.
Dean didn't need any more coaxing. He moved immediately forward and placed a hand on Sam's back. He could feel Sam's ribs under his hand as Sam breathed slowly, seemingly in a deep sleep.
Dean watched wordlessly as John moved forward and placed his hand on Sam's head. He leaned forward and scooped Sam up, one arm under Sam's arms and the other behind his knees. Sam's limbs flopped limply and his head flopped back as John stood. Sam's height made the action awkward, but Dean could see that John was barely straining under the weight of his little brother. The kid was skin and bones.
Dean ran ahead, clearing the way for his father and opening the door for him. He watched Bobby perk up as they exited the cabin. He looked shocked as he took in the horrible state of the youngest Winchester.
Dean brushed past him and opened the back door to the Impala. He climbed in and waited for John to load Sam into the back seat. Dean pulled Sam into his lap as Bobby appeared beside John with a blanket. The blanket was spread over Sam's shivering, near naked form.
John moved to the front of the car and Dean heard their short discussion. The hospital was mentioned and debated, but it was finally decided that Bobby's would be best. They would deal with Sam's injuries on their own. A hospital would yield too many questions.
Dean didn't take his eyes from Sam's face as he listened to the conversation. He gently brushed Sam's hair away from his dirt-crusted forehead. Sam looked so innocent in his sleep. He remembered watching Sam sleep when he was little. Sam would climb into Dean's lap, and Dean would tell him a story. Soon Sam would drift off, and Dean would watch him for a long time before he drifted off himself. There was something peaceful about watching his baby brother sleep.
Dean tried not to think of the circumstances that led to Sam's current state of deep sleep. Instead, he concentrated on how still and quiet and peaceful he looked. It was a welcome change to the feral, terrified look his brother wore earlier.
John climbed into the car and Dean finally tore his gaze away from his brother's sleeping form to look at his father.
"We're heading to Bobby's," John said quietly, turning slightly to stare at Dean. "Bobby's going to ask a friend of his to come and check him out. He's a doctor."
Dean nodded, but said nothing. He could see the pained expression his father wore and wanted to say something to make him feel better. John was feeling guilty. He could see it in his face. His eyes held a haunted expression that Dean was sure would never completely go away. It was similar to the expression he wore for months after Dean's mother died. The expression had faded somewhat, but it had remained a permanent dark speck in his father's eye.
John turned away from Dean and started the car. Dean tightened his hold on Sam as he studied his little brother's bruised face. He was starting to come down from the adrenaline rush of finding his brother, and he felt his eyelids start to droop. He leaned his head back and relaxed, though he kept his grip on his brother firm. He let the purr of the Impala's engine and the gentle rocking motion of the car's trek over the uneven terrain of the dirt road lull him to sleep.
...
It was closing in on noon by the time they had Sam back to Bobby's place and settled into one of the rooms upstairs. Bobby had called ahead to his friend and the doctor had met them at the homestead shortly after they'd arrived.
Dean liked Doctor Steven Greenway immediately after he met him. He didn't look like a typical doctor. His weathered face, wiry beard, and hard stare gave him a gruff appearance that rivaled Bobby's. The doctor seemed to sense Dean's desire to stay close to his brother and made no attempt to brush him aside. Instead, he asked for Dean's assistance as he assessed Sam's injuries.
Dean had to fight the nausea that threatened him as he watched the doctor poke and prod at the numerous injuries that littered Sam's body. The worst injuries, by far, were the burns. The doctor was careful as he assessed their severity.
As Sam started to stir, the doctor withdrew a syringe and some medication from his bag. Dean's stomach did a flip-flop. Despite the fact that he liked the guy, he was far from trusting him where his brother was concerned.
"Wait, what's that?" Dean said as Dr. Greenway pulled the plunger back and drew the medication into the needle. He tried to keep the fear from his voice and pinned the doctor with a deadly glare.
"This is a sedative," Dr. Greenway answered without looking in Dean's direction. "I'm going to have to clean and dress your brother's injuries. The process will be painful, particularly on the burns."
Sensing Dean's distrust, the doctor stopped what he was doing and stared pointedly at Dean. "But if you think that's a bad idea, by all means, please tell me. I don't like it, but I can work without the sedative so long as you can hold your brother down for me and don't mind all the screaming."
Dean swallowed convulsively and backed down. Maybe he didn't like this doctor as much as he originally thought. He got the doctor's message, though, loud and clear. Back off and let him do his job.
"No," Dean said quietly. "Please. Just help him."
The doctor nodded and gave a weak smile before he injected the sedative into Sam's arm.
"Bobby," Dr. Greenway said casually. "If your tub is as dirty as the rest of your house, I think you better get to work on cleaning it. There is some disinfectant in my bag. The bathroom needs to be as clean and sterile as possible before we use the tub to clean him up."
Dean watched Bobby obediently take the disinfectant from the doctor's bag and step silently from the room. John stayed in the doorway of the bedroom for a few moments longer, watching Sam in a way that made Dean's heart break. His eyes met Dean's for a moment before he turned away and walked in the direction of the bathroom.
The process of cleaning and dressing Sam's wounds was almost unbearable to watch. Dean tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he watched the doctor work. He handed the doctor the items that he asked for as he asked for them and kept quiet. He helped the doctor carry Sam's limp body from the tub back to the bedroom. Bobby had put some clean new sheets on the bed. Dean watched the doctor dress Sam's wounds with an expertise that amazed him. The Winchesters were no strangers to cleaning and dressing wounds, but Dean felt their work had been barbaric next to the professional detail the doctor put into his work. He was very glad to have the man there.
As the doctor was finishing up the last of the dressings, Dean felt the need to fill the silence.
"How do you know Bobby?" Dean asked quietly. Bobby and his father had disappeared from the room almost immediately after the doctor had started to dress the wounds. He hoped they were getting some sleep.
"About 10 years ago, I moved my family into a house in Wyoming when I took a new job there." The doctor said. He kept his eyes on his work and seemed to be avoiding Dean's stare. "The house was haunted. Bobby helped."
Dean could sense there was more to the story, but he chose not to push. He'd been around evil enough to see how it could ruin people's lives and leave gaping wounds that never fully healed.
"That should about do it for now," Dr. Greenway said quietly. He gave one last check of his work and nodded his approval. "I've got supplies in my truck to set up an IV line for him. We need to make sure he stays hydrated. I've also got some Ensure for you to feed him."
Dr. Greenway leveled Dean with a stare before he continued.
"You'll need to be careful and feed him slowly," he said. "Don't overdo it. The Ensure will give him the nutrients he needs for now and shouldn't react too harshly with his stomach. I'll be back to check on him tomorrow."
Dean looked away for a moment and felt his gut clench. He didn't want to ask his next question.
"What if we can't get him to drink it?" Dean asked quietly. He didn't want to explain to the doctor the condition his brother had been in when he was found. He didn't want to explain to him that he wasn't sure if he could get close enough to his brother to help him drink anything.
Thankfully, the doctor seemed to know the track Dean's mind was on and spared Dean from having to go into detail. "If he won't take food by mouth, I'll set him up with a feeding tube."
"Thank you, Dr. Greenway," Dean whispered. "Really."
Dr. Greenway smiled warmly at Dean. "You can call me Steve."
...
John sat in Bobby's dining room and nursed a glass of whiskey. He could feel Bobby staring at him across the table. Neither of them had spoken for the better part of an hour. Bobby finally cleared his throat, and John cringed at the conversation that was coming. He wanted to forget. He wanted to not think about the condition of the bruised and beaten skeleton upstairs that used to be his youngest. He didn't want to voice his fears that Sam might still be with them in body, but no longer in mind.
"Do you think they'll come back for him?"
Bobby's question surprised John. He hadn't been expecting it. He was so wrapped up in the condition of his son, he'd almost forgotten about the circumstances that led him there. Almost.
"I don't think so," John said quietly. "But I don't think we should take any chances."
Bobby nodded. "I'll put up a few more wards and make sure everything's as secure as I can get it."
Bobby seemed to hesitate, and John could sense he had something else to say.
"Spill it," John said finally, though he had a feeling he didn't want to hear it.
"I'm sure you know what's coming," Bobby said quietly. "Steve's a great doctor. I know he can fix Sam's injuries. But he ain't a shrink. And I think we both know those demon's are bound to have broken more than Sam's body."
"I know," John said quietly.
He could tell that Bobby was bracing himself for a more violent and angry response from John. His friend knew him well. In truth, John was fighting the urge to take his frustration out on his friend. He wanted to yell and scream that, yes, he was very well aware of the fact that his son was probably more screwed up in the head than any of them could imagine. A person couldn't go through that kind of hell and come out unscathed. He was scared to death and at a loss as to how on earth he would begin to try to bring his son back from hell on earth and try to convince him that everything was okay when he himself was pretty sure that everything was very much NOT okay. That was assuming that Sam would ever recover enough to be able to even comprehend reason. He was scared to death that his son was lost to them forever.
John felt his tenuous grip on his emotions snap, and he threw the glass of whiskey against the wall. He watched with slight satisfaction as the glass shattered and the contents ran down the wall with tiny shards of glass. He felt a pain bubble up from his stomach, through his chest. The pain came out in a frustrated scream and he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands and he did something he had only done once before in his adult life. He sobbed.
Reviews would be awesome. I'll try to not let it be so long till I post again!
