Title: Links
Characters: Sam, Dean, Lilith, Bobby, OFC
Genre: hurt/comfort/angst
Rating: PG 13
Chapter: 7/15
Warnings: none
Summary: Set right after Jus In Bello... AU from there on...
Usual disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. Apart from those I created. I am just building on Kripke's awesome concept!
A/N I: The formatting in this story is deliberate! I hope let's me do it like it needs to be done.... And damn it doesn't- not completely... Dean's answers should have been on the left side, the girl's on the right one. I will change that. The girl will be on the left side and Dean will be in the middle... Hope that helps.
A/N II: OK... I kinda get a kick outta posting this back to back. Very new and intriguing experience... This chapter sorta is the still before the storm... After this one there'lll be no rest ... for the wicked (sorry hadda go there) or the Winchesters... A lot of angst and sick/hurt!Dean from here on...
A/N III: Thanks for all those nice reviews and for putting me to your fav-lists... very much appreciated.
Links
byRoweenaC
Chapter 7: Weaknesses and Whereabouts
The Impala slid smoothly to a halt in front of the run down motel's door. Sam switched off the ignition and turned his head to his silent brother, wondering whether Dean was merely sleeping or once again unconscious. A muscle twitched on the injured man's jaw, intensifying the haunted and brutalised expression on his face. Sam observed the pallor of the skin and the dark shadows beneath Dean's eyes. Sweat beaded his forehead and his chest rose and fell irregularly. Pity filled Sam's hazel eyes and he pressed his lips together in anger silently cursing the aggressor who had so tormented his heroic, brave brother and had left this battered shell of a man. His fists clenched unconsciously as he swore inaudibly he would make the creature suffer beyond imagination. Taking a few breaths to steady himself, Sam decided to wake his sibling regretting that his actions would return Dean to the obvious agony that his broken body would afford him. He reached one hand gently over to his brother's thigh, touching it ever so softly.
"Hey, Dean?" he whispered in a soothing voice.
Sam watched as Dean's eyelids began to flutter and knew his brother had been asleep, which was in a way a relief to the worried young man. 'Not unconscious. So, might not be as bad as it looks.' His eyes shifted once again to the pale face. 'But still. Something 's off. Can't put my finger on it.'
"Dean? Wake up." This time he let his voice take on a slightly stronger tone as he knew his brother was fighting the remnants of a sleep brought on and deepened by exhaustion. Dean's pale green eyes flew open, still unfocused, blinking away the blurry mist in front of him. However, he shut them immediately as his injuries flared to life coursing agony through his body. He tried to even his breathing; to allow him to take control of his twitching, over-strained muscles as the tremors ripped at his mangled shoulder. But the wounds were too new and raw and his pain caused adrenaline fuelled tremors to jar his ruined hand. He couldn't help but hiss as the flares of hot white pain assaulted his body. Eventually, he felt steady enough to open his eyes once more.
"We there?" he mumbled still barely able to control the trembling. He turned his head to look at the door of their rented room but had to stop halfway as the movement tore at the ragged edges of the raw flesh on his shoulder. He closed his eyes briefly and pushed away the sickening memory of bony fingers scratching against his collarbone.
Sam had been watching every move his brother had made and he didn't miss his laborious efforts to mask his pain. He decided out of experience to ignore the obvious agony his brother was in and thus, enable Dean to cope with his weakness.
"Yep. Come on, get a move on. That shoulder's gonna need stitching and your hand needs a proper splint." Sam could hear the strain in his own voice and frowned a little, annoyed with himself. He opened the Impala's door, hinges creaking, and hoisted himself from the driver's seat.
"C'mon. Lemme help you." Sam offered as he opened the passenger side's door carefully, after he had checked that Dean wasn't leaning against it. He proffered his left arm to his older brother for support. Dean started, then grudgingly accepted the offer leaning heavily against Sam's tall frame as they slowly advanced to the room's door. Dean's knees wobbled with every step and his head started spinning. 'Blood loss, great, just peachy!' he commented silently as he closed his eyes against the rising nausea and let Sam for once take the lead.
Sam fumbled with the keys, while his brother's heavy, muscular body weighed and wobbled against his left side. He bit down a curse and, finally, opened the lock, sweat beading his upper lip. "Okay, then let's get you to bed, Dean."
"NO!" Dean protested with unexpected force and nodded his chin to the rickety table with the two chairs. "Not the bed. Chair."
Sam rose an eyebrow at the request, but relented, knowing how much Dean despised being mother-henned. He led his battered sibling to the closest of the chipped metal framed chair's and helped him settle down. Dean gasped at the effort of sitting down and closed his red rimmed, pale eyes again, fighting another wave of unconsciousness.
Sam took the opportunity to clear away his laptop and gather up the first aid equipment still standing on the bedside table next to Dean's bed. Their supplies nearly depleted, he rummaged around and finally yanked out some gauze, compresses, band aid and the needles and threads. He shook the flask containing the holy water knowing that there couldn't be much left and the tiny drop remaining burbled in the flask Sam made a mental note to refill it later and headed back to his brother, laden with the medical paraphernalia.
Dean pouted at the sight, but steeled himself for the adverse and very likely excruciating procedure. Sam smiled at that and nodded his head encouragingly. "Just this and then you can sleep."
"Right."
Sam helped Dean peel off the leather jacket that stuck to his chest and shoulder, glued there by the congealed blood. Dean winced and his breath hitched audibly as he had to move his ruined arm to get it out of the jacket. Sam had thought about cutting it off the arm, but knowing his brother would never agree to that, he had contented himself with helping his brother now, trying not to notice the agony it cost the older man.
With a low growl, Dean painfully maneuvered his injured hand onto the table. He did, however, agree to Sam's suggestion of cutting the shirt off his arm because, after the jacket, he couldn't contemplate the repeated discomfort of another striptease. There had been a moment when the sleeve had gotten caught at the makeshift splint, which had sent renewed waves of nauseating pain through his arm making his had spin violently.
"Ready?"
Sam waited until his brother nodded his consent and set out for the shoulder first. He frowned at the ragged edges of the widened hole. That bitch was so gonna pay for this, demon or not. Sam picked up a compress and soaked it with the peroxide. He braced himself as if he was going to endure the painful treatment and gently swabbed at the congealed, rusty colored blood on the chest and around the shoulder. The closer he got to the raw, ragged gouge, the more distressed his sibling's breathing became. He tried not to look up into his brother's eyes. Dean didn't need to be worrying about the strain this procedure was causing his brother. Dean needed to take care about himself, and not about him now. Sam swallowed down the lump in his throat and covertly blinked away his unbidden tears, desperate not to lose his composure in front of his suffering brother.
Dean tried to disconnect himself from the constantly growing pain, to push it back. However, he seemed to lack the strength to do so. Slightly bemused, he started humming under his breath. No effect was he going to have to endure this whole freaking procedure without his patented pain blocking measures? 'Friggin' weird.' In his whole life as a hunter he had never experienced this. Sure, there had been moments, when the agony had been too much and he had fainted. But this, this was different. It was painful, yeah, you bet! However, there had definitely been worse situations... Dean felt weak, bleary, unable to concentrate. He couldn't afford this lack of alertness, he needed to be awake and strong. His mind wandered off, yet, he still cringed at the ongoing suturing.
Sam found it difficult to stitch the large gap sufficiently. He had to tug at the ragged edges and wasn't surprised when the gouge began to bleed again. Pressing one hand down against the seeping crimson to staunch it, he quickened his suturing with his right hand, accepting the rather uglier result. He shot a glance at Dean's pallid face and was reassured to hear him humming softly, though his eyes remained tightly squeezed shut. 'Good, he's coping.'
With the last stitch, the bleeding ceased and Sam quickly fastened the dressings over the criss cross of inflamed sutures decorating his brother's muscular shoulder. Straightening up, he allowed himself a sigh of relief and set out to work on the crushed hand. He had found an old splint from one of their brief stays at a real hospital and now customized it to fit Dean's hand.
Unwrapping the improvised splint from the swollen limb proved to be a challenge to both men. Dean, jaw clenched, ground his teeth audibly and Sam felt sweat beads lining up in formation on his forehead.
The younger man worked fast, trying to shorten the ongoing torture, and re-wrapped the hand using the proper splint and finally applied the last bit of band aid.
****
"Dean? You with me?" Sam looked inquiringly into his brother's still to pale face.
"Uhm, y... yeah. Sssstill heeeere." Sam frowned at the monosyllabic, slurred speech, his anxiety increasing. He had hoped Dean's pain would be relieved by his ministrations but his brother's disorientation did not support that view.
"Wanna go .... bed." Dean's eyes fluttered open, but slid out of focus. He made to move and Sam hastened to help him rise and shuffle over to the bed. Dean allowed his brother to steer him in the right direction, content at the opportunity to finally succumb to sleep. 'Tired. So tired.'
Dean lowered himself cautiously down on the bed and scooted towards the bed-head. Each small movement sent waves of pain and nausea through his body, renewing the tremors that had stilled during the suturing. Sam helped the weary hunter to lie down, took off his boots and pulled up the sheets around him. He furrowed one hand gently through the spiky, sweat-matted hair and was surprised at the heat emanating from his brother's skin. 'Fever? Not good.' He hadn't noticed anything like it during the ministrations earlier. In fact, Dean's chest had been rather cold and damp.
Contemplating, he stood over his already sleeping brother. Something definitely was off.
****
Dean hovered in the peaceful darkness surrounding him. He felt light and at ease. He let himself float gently, lulling him into deep relaxation.
Help me...
No, not now. Go away.
He felt annoyed at the interruption and tried to push the unwelcome voice away.
Please, I need your help.
Dean unwillingly turned towards the pleading whisper. And there she was. The girl. She was in a worse state than this morning. She had one hand pressed to her stomach, trying to stop a deep, cruel gash from bleeding. Her pallor rivaled his and her eyes were bloodshot. She wasn't standing this time. She seemed to be lying on a pallet. He wondered how it was, that he could see that. Intrigued he moved towards her, surprised he could actually walk.
Please. Help...
He nodded and answered, baffled at the change in this dream. Dean was able to hear and speak...
Help you how? Who are you?
Her face lightened up when she heard him and she straightened up a little. Eventually, Dean reached her bed and hunkered down beside her, looking inquiringly all his instincts switching him into protective mode. She swallowed hard and gasped at the ensuing pain in her stomach. Her eyes never left his face when she continued with her plea.
My name is Amy. They hunted me. Brought me here.
She struggled with each word, her voice hoarse, closed her eyes to regain enough strength to tell the stranger everything she had witnessed and endured during her captivity. When she opened her eyes again it was to be mesmerized by his gentle, emerald gaze. His right hand lay softly, reassuringly on her forehead, pity showed in his eyes. Amy intuitively understood that this man would help her. She had known the first time she had dreamed of him. He radiated strength with every fiber of his handsome body. Even though he himself bore the marks of a terrible fight. 'Oh, please let him be real. Let him come and save me.' She blushed slightly at the oh so needy, unemancipated thoughts. Thoughts she would never have allowed herself before they ...She concentrated, scolding herself. Time was of the essence.
Who brought you here?
Creatures. Eyes. Black eyes.
'Please don't think I'm crazy.' she pleaded silently. But as she looked into his kind eyes she knew he would understand and believe her. Amy winced at another stabbing sensation in her abdomen and wondered how much longer she would be able to get her information across.
I'm Dean. Where are they holding you?
His kind voice was laced with a need to know the essentials and apprehension at her answer. She looked up at him again and forced her tongue to work.
Foxville.
He looked puzzled and took a moment to process the unexpected information.
Foxville, Nebraska? Where exactly?
Don't. Know.
Her breath hitched and her eyelids started to flutter. Dean had to be quick find out all he needed to attempt to rescue her.
There a window?
She nodded almost unnoticeably.
What can you see, when you look outside?
Lake. Small island.
Amy felt her strength leave her. Her voice quivered audibly when she went on.
She. Comes. Gotta. Go.
Who? Who is coming? Someone else there with you?
Dean thought for a moment and ventured on, not sure if he was making any sense as he asked following his hunter instinct.
Is there a girl with you?
Her eyes flew open, terror lacing them. She nodded.
She. Comes.
We'll get you and her out there, don't worry...
NO! Girl. One. Of. Them. Leader.
She convulsed as agony rushed through her. She had to tell him.
Lilith
To Be Continued
