Weight of the World

Solemn, somber weight
Rests heavy on my shoulders
True legacy of worry.

A burden lifted
Often by such simple things
Opportunities to breathe.

—Vanessa Sgroi, 2008

Sam slouched in a battered, but surprisingly comfortable, chair in the cafeteria of Hollister Memorial Hospital. Before him on the scratched, careworn yellow Formica table sat a pressed-paper cup with a swirled blue-and-green design. It was about three-quarters full of acrid, grayish sludge—what they optimistically referred to as coffee—an oily, rainbow-hued film gracing its wholly unappetizing surface. Despite the generous amount of sugar and milk he'd added to the cup, the beverage still tasted like all kinds of crap.

The tall hunter sighed and turned the cup in quick circles, watching the liquid climb the sides. It was mostly a prop anyway—something to give his long fingers to play with while he waited to go back to Dean. He'd been—encouraged—to step away for a short amount of time while they got Dean settled in his room. Sam had been asked to give them about half hour while the neurologist, Dr. Singh, did his exam and consult. Too tired to go to the Impala to snag his laptop and with nothing else to do, Sam had headed to the cafeteria. It was slightly past the dinner hour and about half of its mishmash of worn tables and chairs were occupied.

"Mr. Stanley? Sam, right?"

He looked up to find one of the nurses from the ER standing just to his left with a soft smile on her face and a cup in her hand.

"Oh, hey. Hi. Geri?" Sam made to politely stand, but she waved him back down.

"You look like you could use a little company? Do you mind if I sit down? I'm on a break."

"Um. Sure."

Geri smiled and pulled out a chair across from him and sat down. Tilting her head forward, she wrinkled her nose in distaste at the contents of his cup. "Ooohh, you actually went for that stuff they claim is coffee? You're brave. That stuff'll put a whole pelt of curly hair on your chest." It dawned on her a split second later what she'd just said. "Not that there's anything wrong with hair on a man's chest! I mean…on a guy sure, it's perfectly okay. Heck, you probably DO have hair on your chest, but…" Geri broke off with a self-conscious giggle. "Geez, open mouth, insert foot. I'm sorry—just ignore me—I'm just chattering complete nonsense."

"Nah, it's all right," replied Sam with just the tiniest amount of heat suffusing his face. He lifted the cup and took a sip of the rapidly-cooling drink. Try as he might though Sam couldn't control a little shudder at the taste. It might as well have been battery acid.

"Well, what I should have said was 'you shoulda went with the hot chocolate'. The hot chocolate is actually the best things they make here. In fact, give me that cup." Geri grabbed the coffee from between Sam's lax fingers. "I'm gonna go get you a hot chocolate. You look like you could use it."

"No, really, that's o—" The nurse was gone before Sam could sputter out the rest of his protest. He ran his unbandaged hand over his eyes attempting to wipe away both the grit of tiredness and worry. It didn't work. Sam glanced at his watch—6:43 p.m. He had another twenty or so minutes to wait.

Geri returned a few minutes later and sat a tall cup of hot chocolate in front of Sam. "Here ya go. I hope you like whipped cream. I had them squirt a bunch on top. OH, and I brought this for you too." She placed a small plate loaded with a giant cinnamon roll on the table next to the drink. The sweet treat was studded with nuts and raisins and was covered by a generous swath of creamy vanilla frosting.

"Gee, Geri, you didn't have to do that!"

"I know but I wanted to—so eat up. You really do look all done in." She watched Sam take a bite of the pastry. "You're waiting for them to get your brother settled in for the night, huh?"

"Yeah, and for that doctor to do his consult."

The nurse nodded. "He'll be staying the night up in the Adult Short Stay Unit on the fourth floor. I have a couple of friends who are on tonight up there. They'll take good care of him." Geri paused, a slight frown creasing her brow. "Oh, damn…"

Sam, finishing a gulp of hot chocolate, looked at her quizzically. "What?" He wiped away the narrow white mustache left by the melting whipped cream.

"It's nothing really. I just remembered that Ursula's working up there tonight."

"Ursula?"

Geri sighed. "Ursula Perdue. She's the Head Nurse on shift up there tonight. She's…um…I dunno—difficult I guess you'd say. She's very—VERY—old-fashioned. Still wears the white uniform dress, stockings, and the white nurses' hat with the black stripes—the whole nine yards. And I guess that's all okay if that's your thing, but with Ursula it's more her terrible attitude than anything else. She…umm…kinda rules with an iron fist."

"Oh, great. Dean's gonna love that."

Geri smiled a little uncertainly. "I'm sure he'll be sleeping most of the night and won't even know. Anyway, I probably shouldn't have said anything."

A jumble of excited, high-pitched voices erupted to the right of where the two of them were sitting causing them both to look up. A half dozen young female student nurses, trays of food in hand, were in the process of sitting down a couple of tables away. Half of them were sneaking peeks at Sam and giggling. The other three were rolling their eyes and poking at their giddy compatriots. Sam's felt his cheeks warm as a blush stole over his face. He glanced at his watch and turned his attention back to Geri. "Well, I guess it's time for me to get upstairs to my brother."

"Yeah, I need to get back to the ER." Geri swallowed the last few sips of her mango-flavored green tea and stood. She gathered Sam's empty plate, used napkin and cup and strolled with him toward the exit, dropping the refuse in the trash can next to the door. She placed a hand on his upper arm. "Okay, Sam, you take care now, you hear? Don't forget to take your antibiotics—like your brother's wounds that laceration's nothing to fool around with." Seeing Sam's nonplussed look, she narrowed her eyes and continued, "You haven't filled your prescription yet, have you?"

Sam shook his head no.

Geri gave him a pretend scowl and scolded, "You'd better or I'll tell Dr. Ward! Our pharmacy is open until 7:30 p.m."

The tall hunter raised his hands in surrender. "I'll go and get it filled. I promise."

"Good. And that brother of yours is gonna be fine. You'll be marching out of here in the morning before you know it." Offering him a final half wave, Geri walked away, leaving Sam to find his way to Dean with a quick side trip to the pharmacy.

(SN) (SN) (SN)

Approaching Dean's room, the younger Winchester saw a short, slim, dark-skinned man with curly salt-and-pepper hair exit Dean's room and pause just outside the door to write some notes, presumably in his brother's chart.

"Dr. Singh?"

The man looked up—way up—meeting Sam's hazel-hued gaze.

"Yes?"

"I'm Sam--Dean's brother. How is he?" His anxiousness rang through loud and clear in his voice."

"I've completed my exam and feel no further tests are warranted at this time," the doctor responded in a lightly-accented voice, "However, he will be monitored throughout the night and if his status should change, we will re-evaluate."

"What about his drowsiness, confusion, and the throwing up and stuff?"

"All symptoms of a severe concussion though I think the persistent nausea is being enhanced by the IV antibiotic. I was just writing a change order for that. He will probably suffer from some short-term memory loss as well, but that should resolve itself along with the rest of symptoms in due time. Again, we will continue to re-evaluate throughout the night."

"So he's okay?"

"With time and rest, I believe he will complete recover from his injuries." The little man nodded politely and walked away.

Sam entered Dean's room quietly, finding his brother's drowsy eyes locked on the entryway. He saw Dean visibly relax upon his entry into to the room.

"Sammy, where've you been? What happened?" Dean's fingers tightened on the edge of the buff-colored blanket.

Sam pulled a thinly-padded chair next to the bed and sat. "You got hurt on a job, Dean. That house on Old Stone Road, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah, Old Stone Road. Okay." His rote answer made it clear he didn't really remember but didn't want to let on. Dean frowned, a look of consternation settling on his face. "Your arm's bandaged."

"What this?" The tall, young hunter wiggled the fingers of his injured arm. "It's just a cut. Took a few stitches to close, just like yours."

The frown didn't dissipate. "That's all?"

"Yes that's all, worrywart."

"Good." Dean's eyelids began to flutter as he fought the exhaustion pulling at him.

"Stop fighting it and go to sleep. Might as well get what you can now, dude, 'cause the nurses are gonna keep you up half the night, you know."

Even in his semi-conscious state, Dean managed a smirk and slurred, "Haff the nigh'? Why ya insult me, li'le bro? I'ma sex God, S'mmy; I can go allll nigh'." His snark ended on a sigh as his body gave in to the need for sleep.

Sam chuckled at his brother's words and felt the tension—a heavy boulder resting on his shoulders for last several hours—ease. If Dean could still fling his own special brand of bullshit like that, he was definitely going to be okay.

Stretching out his long legs and squirming in the chair until he got somewhat comfortable, Sam leaned his head back and looked around the hospital room. It was a small space with dingy, unadorned beige walls and a speckled brown tile floor that sported long, meandering cracks in several places. The lone tiny window was so opaque with grime that he could barely make out the cloudy, rain-filled vista beyond. All in all it was a dreary, cheerless atmosphere that the buzzing overhead light did nothing to dispel. A stray shiver snaked its way down Sam's spine. Reaching for the remote for the TV, he switched on the set, located an innocuous, if mind numbing, comedy, and let the canned laughter chase away the quiet and gloom. It wasn't long though before his own exhaustion caught up with him, and he drifted off to sleep, elbow propped on the edge of Dean's bed, chin resting in his palm.

Sam wasn't sure how long he'd slept when he was abruptly awakened by a rough hand on his shoulder determinedly shaking him. An imperious, commanding voice sounded above him.

"Visiting hours are over. You need to vacate this room immediately."

Groaning as his now stiff muscles and joints protested actual movement, Sam pushed himself up in the chair, wiping sleep away with his fingers. "Wha?" He flicked a glance at his watch; he'd been asleep for just over an hour. It was 8:45 p.m.

"Visiting hours are over. You must leave."

Sam blinked up at the strange woman standing over him, taking in the white dress, the hat with black stripes, and the formidably stern expression darkening her face. His mind flashed back to his earlier conversation with Geri. Must be the iron-fisted Ursula Perdue. He cleared his throat and muttered, "Nah, I gotta stay with my brother."

"No. You cannot stay in this room. Visiting hours ended precisely at 8:30 p.m."

He pushed to his feet. "B-But…"

Ursula kept her gimlet glare focused on Sam like a laser beam adjusting it only slightly to accommodate his height as he rose. "No buts. Hospital policy clearly states that visiting hours are from 10:00 a.m. to 8:30 p.m. Exceptions are only made for the intensive care units and then at the discretion of the doctors or charge nurses. THIS is not an intensive care unit."

"You don't und—"

"I do not care to repeat myself. Must I call security?"

Sam thought back to his encounter with the ever-so-pleasant Trumbull and cringed.

"S-Saam? Wha's goin' on?"

Dean's murmured question pulled Sam's attention away from the battle-ax standing before him.

"She's telling me I have to leave, Dean. Says visiting hours are over and she'll call security if I don't." As Sam spoke he tossed a defiant glare at his current tormenter, fully intending to continue the argument.

Dean shifted on the bed, grunting as all of his aches and pains reawakened with a vengeance. He eyed the two antagonists facing off near his bed. "Sammy—s-should go 'head-n-go."

"What! No! I-I can stay right here."

"Nah. Go. Sleep. C-Come back-n-get me in mornin'."

"Dean…"

Dean tapped the top of his brother's hand with his middle and index fingers. " 's okay. Go."

TBC…