Author's Note: A huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed, you're all awesome, and a big encouragement!
Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own the boys even though I wish I did *g*
Something warm was on his face, contrary to the rest of his body which was cold. Not so cold that he was shivering, but that kind of dead cold that is just cold enough to be uncomfortable. "D'nn," he whispered, knowing his brother would make him warm. Blinking his eyes open, he cringed and shut them again when he found that the warmth on his face was sunlight pouring in through a window. The brightness sent bolts of pain through his eyes, stabbing into his brain. He turned his head and opened his eyes again, blinking the sunspots out of his vision. "D'nnnn"
Someone approached, but it wasn't Dean. "Hey, honey. It's good to see you. They said you just came out of Intensive Care, so we were finally allowed in to visit. I called a couple of times before this and they always told me it was family only allowed in to see you." Krista appeared in his line of vision, smiling down at him. "They said you were hurt pretty bad, we didn't think you'd survive. Imagine our surprise when I was told you were awake and out of ICU. You must have been lonely here, all by yourself." She motioned to something behind her and Justin and Jonathan appeared, both smiling at him, but even though he couldn't remember why their looks just didn't seem sincere.
"Nuh, D'nnnn," he whispered, shaking his head. He hadn't been alone, Dean had been there. And he didn't want to see them. He wanted Dean. He didn't know where his brother was, but he wanted him.
"No, honey, Dean's not here remember? He's not here." Krista stroked his forehead, pushing his bangs out of his face. Her hand brushed the stitches at his hairline making him wince; he shook his head, jerking away from her hand. Everything was so fuzzy it was hard to think, but he knew he didn't want Krista or the others there. He wanted his brother.
"D'nnnn" he tried to yell despite how much it hurt; he only succeeded in a slightly louder whisper that tore at his tender throat. Somewhere behind him the steady beeping that was a constant sound increased frantically as he started panicking and knew he needed to calm down, but he needed Dean more. Tears escaped to course down his cheeks. He remembered waking up with Dean there, but Krista said he wasn't. Yet he knew Dean had been there, so where was he? It was all too confusing; his brain couldn't handle it, refusing to clear enough to sort out the facts.
"Hey, honey, Sam. Settle down, you need to settle down." Krista was almost yelling now, enunciating each word again like he was stupid. The hands she put on his arms were cold and pressed down, hurting his shoulder. He shrugged them off and tried to sit up, desperate to see Dean. His movements caused a wave of pain to radiate out of his abdomen and pelvis and he cried out.
Then other people were there, nurses telling him to take it easy and trying to calm him. He ignored them, wanting his brother, needing his brother. And suddenly Dean was yelling his name, pushing nurses out of the way. A warm, familiar hand was on his, squeezing it.
Still struggling, Sam rolled his head around until he was pulled into a sitting position. It hurt, God it hurt, fire erupting in his belly and chest, but warm hands were wrapped around him, one across his back and the other pushing his head down to rest on a shoulder. Sam inhaled the smell through the oxygen mask strapped to his face, a mixture of leather, gunpowder and sweat that was Dean and reached his good arm around to grasp the back of Dean's jacket, fisting the leather in a death grip.
Slowly a litany of words filtered into his panicked mind. "Hey, it's ok, it's ok. I'm here, you're ok, it's ok. Just breathe, relax, it's ok." And Sam did, because Dean was there. Slowly his breathing calmed as he concentrated on matching it to the even rise and fall of the chest he was pressed against. His body melted into his brother and his eyes started to droop. But he forced them open.
"D'nnn….d'n go." he whispered, then let his eyes close. As they did, he felt something wet hit his face and the hand on his neck squeeze gently. "I won't, I promise," was the last thing he heard.
~* ~~ ~*~ ~~ *~
Dean didn't think he'd ever forget the sight of his brother flailing feebly in the hospital bed when he'd rounded the corner, monitors wailing and Sam's hoarse cries of his name filling the room. Tears had been soaking Sam's face and the three people Dean wanted to see least of all had been in the room. He'd just heard Krista tell Sam that he wasn't there.
He'd pushed past the two nurses, briefly sparing a thought for the fact that he seemed to have developed a habit of shoving nurses out of the way recently, and done the only thing he could think of to calm Sam. He'd dropped onto the edge of the bed and scooped Sam into his arms, wrapping his brother in a hug. By the flinch and pained gasp he knew it had hurt, there was a reason Sam had been kept lying flat the doctor had explained, but Dean didn't think anything else would help. Besides, he figured more damage would be done if Sam kept flailing around. He'd started talking, reassuring his brother he was there and everything was ok.
Eventually Sam had relaxed, his body going slack and his breathing slowing from the pained, panicked gasps to wheezy, slightly shallow breaths. The sobs and cries for him had quieted, but he'd stayed that way, rocking slightly until he was sure Sam was completely relaxed. The faint and slurred "don't go" had surprised him, unravelling his already frayed nerves. "I won't I promise," he whispered, feeling the tears he'd been holding back for two weeks give way. Sam fell asleep then but he kept rocking, his face buried in Sam's hair until he got himself under control.
Only when he was sure it wouldn't wake Sam and he realized everyone was still there did he gently ease his brother back down. A tug on his coat made him frown. Sam's hand was gripping the leather so tightly he wouldn't be surprised if there were nail prints dug into it. He let out a breath and carefully shrugged out of the coat, deciding to let Sam keep it for the time being. The minute it was slack, Sam mouthed something and tugged it closer to himself, wrapping his arm around it like a security blanket.
The nurse that was still there, an older nun named Sister Mary Catherine Dean remembered, gave a motherly cluck as she went about checking Sam over, fixing tubes and wires and writing things down. "Now if that isn't the sweetest thing. I take it you raised the boy?"
Dean swiped at his eyes and reached out to wipe Sam's face with the cloth Sister Mary Catherine held out to him. "Yeah, how did you know?"
"Honey, I may be a nun, but I recognize that look. He's got a death grip on your coat, like it's his blankie, and the way you came barrelling in here like a mama bear tells me all I need to know." She patted Dean's cheek and checked Sam over quickly, then reached out to rearrange the leather coat, draping it over Sam like a blanket. When she was satisfied she turned around to face the three people standing in the room. The tenderness was replaced by anger as she glared at them. "Now, who the hell are you and what are you doing upsetting patients?"
Dean had almost forgotten them, but turned to pin them with a look that most people found terrifying. It worked, and they paled under it combined with the nurse. Jonathan actually looked like he was going to faint, staring at Dean wide eyed.
"We came to see Sam." Krista squeaked finally, her eyes glued to Dean's, holding up a gaudy bouquet of flowers and balloons. "The front desk told us he'd been moved to a room and could have visitors." She shifted nervously. "We didn't know Dean was here, he'd left before Sam got hurt and we thought we'd come keep him company."
The door swung open before Dean could reply, admitting a worried looking Dr. Lacey. He stopped and stared at the two groups, one terrified and the other angry. "What's going on here? The duty nurse paged me and said something had happened to Sam."
"We were just working that out." Dean growled taking a step towards Jonathan, Krista and Justin. "Sam's so-called friends here stopped by while I wasn't here. They told Sam I was gone."
Dr. Lacey frowned, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the three people. "You were with Sam, when he was hurt." His frown deepened. "But you told the paramedics Dean had left, and that you didn't know him or how to contact him. We were lucky Sam had his phone or we wouldn't have been able to find you." His tone was accusatory and he glanced at Dean with the last part.
"They what?" Dean demanded, his voice dropping to that dangerous, low tone that Sam always said could scare a hellhound back to hell, advancing again. He was stopped by a hand on his arm. Shrugging it off he glared daggers at Justin, his voice dropping to a quiet growl. Sam was the one who did loud and yelling. He just got dangerously quiet. "Sam gave you my phone number the first day, just in case." He remembered that clearly; he hadn't been very happy about Sam giving out his number, but had gone with it anyway. His little brother was going to be spending time with them and they needed a way to get hold of him if they needed to.
Hands returned to his arms, pulling at him, and he realized he'd grabbed Justin by the front of the shirt and slammed him up against the wall. Blinking he dropped the man, letting him sag against the wall and stalked back to Sam's bed. Sitting on the edge so his hip touched Sam's, he reached for his brother's hand and grasped it tightly, using the contact to calm himself down.
"We didn't think you'd want to see him, he did say you'd walked out on him. And we didn't think you'd really care." Jonathan said in a defensive voice though Dean was pleased to hear a tremor in it. "You walked out on him, remember."
"Yeah, I know that, thank you." Dean replied sarcastically without looking up from Sam's sleeping face, guilt tightening his chest. "Get out. If I see you here again you'll regret it." His voice was tight, barely controlled anger thrumming through it and was all he could do not to say "I'll kill you" instead of "you'll regret it".
"I'll escort them to the nurse's station and have security show them out." Dr. Lindsay said in an equally angry voice. The door opened and closed before someone touched his shoulder tentatively.
"You ok, honey? You look kind of pale, there. Why don't you get back in bed? How's your wrist, did you hurt it any?"
Sister Mary Catherine's voice worked to pull Dean out of the red haze of anger he was caught in. Looking up, he took a deep breath and grimaced when the room spun a little bit. His hands were shaking, his headache renewing its pounding behind his eyes. "Shit. I'm sorry about that, I – "
She cut him off with a shake of her head. "No apologies necessary, I understand and I'm sure Dr. Lacey will too. Worry will do that to you, and I can see you worry a lot about Sam, don't you?"
Dean nodded again, ignoring his own bed that Sister Mary Catherine was waiting for him to get into and deciding he liked the woman immensely. For some reason he didn't feel like he had to keep his walls up with her; he could say what he really thought. It was rare he found anyone he could be like that with, but somehow the tiny nun standing in front of him had succeeded in working past his walls. "It's my job to take care of him, he's my responsibility," he said simply. A thought occurred to him and he quirked a shaky smile. "You said hell."
"Well he's going to be just fine. The doctor will be back once he's handed those idiots over to security to check Sam over, and you too. How about you rest until then? It's been a long day. I'll have someone bring you in something to eat." Sister Mary Catherine patted his arm again before leaving, pausing at the door to return his grin with a cheeky one of her own. "I'll just have to do a penance for that little slip of the tongue, won't I?"
When the door closed behind her, Dean leaned forward to rest his head on Sam's briefly before lying down on the bed with his brother. He didn't have the energy to move, the adrenalin that had been coursing through him leaving in a rush, leaving him sore and boneless and exhausted. But he didn't fall asleep like he had every other time. Instead he rubbed circles on Sam's hand with his thumb and thought about what Jonathan had said.
It was what had been running through his mind since he'd gotten the call from Dr. Lacey back in Pennsylvania. He had been so angry at Sam for the way his friends had treated him, which was why he'd walked out. He had needed to get away from it. But if he hadn't walked out Sam wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed, bruised and broken. It was his fault. If he'd been there, gone hiking with them, Sam wouldn't have fallen. Or he could have kept Sam from going hiking at all. Either way, Sam wouldn't be hurt. It was his job to take care of Sam and he'd failed, big time. He'd almost lost his brother, all because of his stupid ego; because he'd gotten mad that three pompous jerks didn't like him.
His thoughts were interrupted almost three hours later by Dr. Lacey returning. "Those three won't be back, I told security not to let them back in; I don't appreciate people upsetting my patients." He assured Dean as he moved to check Sam over, not commenting on the way Dean was laying, or where. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to get back, I had an emergency with another patient."
"Good. And, uh, listen…I'm sorry for freaking out there…" Dean began awkwardly, not bothering to move from his position on the bed. Dr. Lindsay held up a hand.
"Don't apologize. They should have told me they knew how to contact you. It would have saved a lot of trouble. They had no right to come in here and upset my patients, so they deserved it."
Nodding, Dean watched the doctor move around, following him with half-lidded eyes. "The nurse said you lifted Sam up into a sitting position?" Dr. Lindsay asked, easing the blanket and coat aside, smiling at the coat. He lifted the bandage covering the stitches from Sam's surgery and palpated his abdomen, then carefully felt around Sam's pelvis.
"Yeah, I didn't hurt him, did I?" Dean asked, suddenly worried and alert. He knew it had hurt Sam.
"No, I don't think so. Everything feels fine and his stitches aren't ripped." The doctor tugged the blanket back over Sam and moved to the chart, scribbling yet more notes on it. By the time Sam was out of there, they'd have a novel written about him, Dean mused. The chart was set back in place and Dr. Lacey moved to stand beside Dean. "Now how about you? How are you feeling?" he asked. Pulling out a flashlight he checked Dean's pupils and prodded the back of his head. "Any dizziness or nausea?"
"I'm ok, just tired." Dean replied, lying still for the examination. He would move in a minute, once he mustered enough energy.
"Good, that's good. Why don't we wake Sam up? I think he's slept long enough, and after all the excitement around him, I think I'd like to finally meet him." Dr. Lacey smiled at Dean before bending over Sam and tapping his face lightly. "Sam? Sam, can you hear me? It's time to wake up. Sam? Wake up for us now." He called. Sam's eyelids flickered and he moved his head away from the tapping finger, but didn't wake. "You try, he's more likely to respond to you." He said to Dean.
~* ~~ ~*~ ~~ *~
Someone was tapping his face and calling his name, the irritating sound trying to pull him out of sleep. Which was exactly what the voice wanted, he realized. It was telling him to wake up. But he didn't want to wake up; he was tired and wanted to sleep.
The voice stopped and another one took its place. Dean. That was Dean, he recognized, telling him to wake up. If Dean wanted him to wake up then he'd have to, he actually wanted to as long as his brother was doing the asking. So he did.
His eyelids were heavy but he forced them open, blinking and closing them again when the sun caused pain to shoot through his head. Dean said something to someone he couldn't see while moving to block the sunlight that was falling on his face. The blinds closed and the light turned off so that he was able to open his eyes.
"Hey there Sleeping Beauty, it's about time you woke up. How do you feel?" Dean was bending over him and, for some reason, sitting beside him on the bed looking like he'd been lying down there.
Sam thought about that for a minute. He realized he didn't really know. He remembered waking up a few times, but didn't think he'd ever thought about how he felt so he took a minute to take stock of his body. Everything hurt, a faint throb pulsing through him. The pain wasn't bad and he felt really out of it and thinking was hard, which told him he was on the good drugs, but while most of it was a general ache he could feel slightly more concentrated pain in his leg, chest and stomach, and his head. The worst pain was in his pelvis, pulsing out when he shifted and making his breath hitch.
"I'm ok," he whispered finally. "Thirsty."
"Try saying that when you don't look like death warmed over there, Casper," Dean replied with a grin from where he sat on the bed. He reached for something and a cup appeared in Sam's line of vision. Dean gently lifted his head up while someone pulled the oxygen mask off his face, and a spoonful of ice chips was slipped into his mouth. Sam let the coolness ease his dry, sore throat, the trickle of cold water sliding down it feeling like heaven. When they were melted, he gave his brother a significant look. Dean obliged by feeding him another mouthful. "That's enough for now, the nice doctor wants to talk to you," he said, making Sam realize they weren't alone.
The doctor, a young man Sam figured to be in his mid thirties, leaned over him and smiled. "Hazel eyes, huh? The nurses will be delighted, they've been taking bets on what colour." At Sam's blush he laughed, then turned serious again. "It's good to see you awake, you had us all pretty worried, Sam. I'm Dr. Lacey."
"How long?" Sam rasped, his voice a bit stronger after the ice chips. When Dean and the doctor exchanged a look, Sam frowned, suddenly worried that there was something seriously wrong that they didn't want to tell him. "How long?" he repeated, this time with an edge of panic in his voice. The monitors picked up their pace, the beeping speeding up accordingly as his anxiety rose.
"Hey, take it easy, everything is ok, Sam." Dean soothed, looking concerned while Dr. Lacey's eyes had fixed on the monitors. "Two weeks, though you've been in and out for the last couple days." Dean replied finally, after a nod from the doctor. Sam was shocked. He'd been out of it for two weeks?
Dean obviously saw his confusion. He rested his hand on Sam's forearm. "Like Dr. Lacey said, you had us pretty worried." Briefly Sam's hazy brain flashed images through his mind of Dean hugging him, a hand brushing his forehead, Dean's worried face, and scariest of all Dean kissing him on the forehead. He had a feeling worry didn't begin to describe it if his memory was right.
Dr. Lacey was moving around now, checking things and prodding Sam. "Tell me when it hurts, ok Sam?" When his hands touched his stomach and ran down towards his right hip, Sam gasped and tried to jerk away. The hands moved off him and Dr. Lacey's face appeared in his line of sight. "That'll be painful for a while. You did a number on yourself. It probably really hurts your ribs to lie down, but sitting up will hurt a lot more," He explained. "We'll gradually sit you up more and more over the next week or so."
Frowning, Sam tried to sit up, but more pain shot through his stomach and chest and he sank back down with another gasp. "You have to lay flat for now, don't try to move." The doctor's voice said from somewhere next to him. A moment later the head of the bed eased up a fraction, enough that he could see more than just the ceiling, and another pillow slid under his head to prop it up slightly. By rolling his head he had a pretty good view of the entire room, though the movement sent everything spinning and his empty stomach did a flip.
Dr. Lacey was standing at the foot of the bed again, watching him. When Sam caught his eye he reached for a chair and sat down, moving up to sit near his waist. "So, I figure you may want to know what's going on. You feel up to it?"
"Yeah, I guess." Sam replied after a minute, pushing through the drug fog clouding his brain. He wanted to go back to sleep; it was hard to keep his eyes open, but really wanted to know what had happened. Dean moved around and got more comfortable, ice chips still in hand. "Thirsty first," he whispered. Dean smiled and dug into the cup with the spoon, feeding him a mouthful while the doctor reached over to move the oxygen mask aside.
Once they were settled, Sam sucking on the ice chips and Dean sitting on the bed, one hand still holding Sam's, the Doctor started the explanation.
"First, how much do you remember, Sam?"
"Umm, not much," Sam replied, swallowing the last of the ice and trying to think. "I was hiking with some friend…I fell?" He didn't remember much and the drugs in his system weren't helping. "Just bits after that, it's all kind of fuzzy. Krista told me Dean wasn't here, and… everything else is just flashes." His voice was little more than a whisper, punctuated by wheezing breaths. It hurt to talk and took him a good two minutes just to get those few words out.
Beside him Dean let out what sounded like a growl and gripped his hand tighter, but it was the doctor who spoke. "The path collapsed under you and you fell into a gorge. From the looks of things you hit a few trees on the way down," he said. "Your injuries were severe. Your pelvis, Tibia, Fibula and ankle are broken; you suffered severe internal injuries including a torn kidney and ruptured spleen that we were able to repair surgically, along with massive bruising to your abdomen, particularly your liver. A branch punctured your shoulder dislocating the joint and causing blood loss and damage to the muscles. You also suffered a severe concussion and four broken ribs, two of which punctured your right lung. With the internal bleeding, blood pooled in your chest cavity causing what's called a hemopneumothorax, or a collapsed lung caused by internal bleeding. You slipped into a coma, and it was pretty close for a while. To be honest I didn't think you would survive."
Dean's grip had tightened on his hand while the doctor had been talking until it was almost painful. Sam didn't blame his brother, if it had been the other way around he'd be a basket case. As it was, he didn't know what to say. Looking up at Dean he found his bother staring at him, a fierce look on his face. At least now he knew what had scared Dean so much that his brother had been so touchy-feely and emotional.
"We're monitoring your liver and kidneys, I'm a bit concerned about a small bit of bleeding that still hasn't resolved itself, and I've booked you into surgery to repair your shoulder in a couple of days." Dr. Lacey patted Sam's leg. "It all sounds bad, and you are pretty banged up, but with some time and a little physiotherapy for your leg and shoulder you should heal without any lasting effects"
Sam just nodded, at a loss for words. "Thanks." He whispered finally.
Clearing his throat, Dr. Lacey stood up. "I'll leave you two alone for a bit. Sam, I'm going to ask a nurse to bring you something to eat, just something simple. I want you to try eating, and drink a bit of water. If you need anything just press the call button. I'll be back in the morning and we can talk again. Dean, I want you to rest, in your own bed. The nurse is going to bring in another IV that I want you to have too, just as a precaution."
When the door closed behind the doctor, Sam gripped Dean's hand tighter. "I'm sorry," he whispered, then frowned as Dr. Lacey's comment to his brother sank in. What IV? His own bed? "You ok?"
Surprisingly Dean shook his head. "No, Sam, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left." He shook his head again. "But don't worry about that right now, we'll talk about it later, I promise. I'm fine, don't worry about me; just rest."
Sam was too surprised that Dean wanted to talk later to argue and sought some way to change the subject. He really wanted to stay awake and needed something to help. He found it when he squeezed his free hand and found it was clutched around something. A glance down told him it was Dean's coat, half of which was draped over him while his arm was curled around the other half, his fist gripping the back of it tightly. "Uh, Dean? Why am I holding your coat?"
Dean grinned. "According to Sister Mary Catherine it's your blankie." His eyes danced with laughter, but turned serious again a moment later. "Your friends came to visit a few hours ago. The doctor had taken you for some tests, and I wasn't here when you came back. Krista told you I wasn't here." He ran a hand over his face, one Sam noticed for the first time was covered by a caste. "I came back while you were freaking out. You calmed down, but fell asleep holding onto my coat." He grinned at the end. "So the nurse was right, it is a blankie."
Sam grimaced, not at the teasing but at the mention of his friends. Everything was so fuzzy still, the painkillers he was on muddling his thinking, but he remembered their fight and the reason for it, and that Dean had left because of him. "I don't remember that, just Krista telling me you were gone. Dean, I'm sorry, I should have seen them for what they were," he started, only to be stopped by Dean.
"I said we'll talk about it later, Sammy. For now, just forget it." He tugged at his coat and reached for something on the table. With another grin, he held out very large stuffed grizzly bear. "How 'bout we trade? You take the bear, I'll take my coat back." He squeezed the bear, causing it to let out a life-like roar of fury.
Sam laughed, though it ended up being a breathy sort of moan, and let Dean tuck the bear in beside him under the blanket. His good arm kept a firm grip on the leather coat. He almost felt like he was five again, tucked into a hospital bed with Dean's coat and a stuffed animal after having his appendix removed. Maybe it was the drugs, but he didn't really mind. It felt safe and comfortable.
"I'm keeping the coat, though. I'm cold and it's warm." He was lying. He was a little cold but a blanket would have worked just as well to fix that. He just couldn't make himself let go of Dean's coat yet. It was a comfort he wasn't willing to part with. His eyes drifted closed despite his attempts to keep them open, and he heard Dean sigh dramatically.
"Fine, but I'm keeping the elephant."
He managed one more thought, wondering what Elephant Dean was talking about, before he drifted off.
