Legalities: Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure.
Idea: This little fiction has a storyline, but it is unabashed hurt!Dean with extremely angsty!Sam and worried!John. This is purely a selfish little piece that I decided to share. I wanted to focus on Deans recovery and how one would come back from this type of situation. Especially when Dean would internalize everything...
Also, this is a very dark little piece of fiction, so please read all warnings at the start of the chapters and don't read it if you're not into that.
Synopsis: Sequel to Gone Missing, Dean is trying desperately to get past the physical and the mental trauma…but how will he deal when there is a significant hunt that he feels he must be a part of. And how will he hide the increasingly debilitating headaches that are a result of his torture from the prying eyes of his little brothe?
Warnings: This story will contain everything from intense angst, graphic depictions of past torture and dreams, to current pain. If you don't like this type of thing….don't read this story. I would suggest reading 'Gone Missing' first as it will set the scene for this story. It is the second in what will be a 3 story arc, returning Dean to all his glory for the Pilot of the series.
Please Review: Thank you for the amazing response.. Thanks to any guests and others that can't sign in, I appreciate the reviews.
Just a warning...this chalked full of ANGST...so be prepared...don't like...don't read.
Chapter 9
Complications of the Mind's Eye
Sam stared at the man as though he'd grown a second head. If…what the fuck does he mean…if? He wanted to shout at the doctor, but his father beat him to it. He'd never been one to sit back and let other's speak for him, but since his father was saying exactly what he himself wanted to…Sam stayed silent.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? If…Dean's going to be fine right? He made it through the surgery…it was a success…so now he should be fine…right?!" John's voice was picking up both speed and volume as he bombarded the doctor with questions and what he perceived as known facts. Sam's eyes were flying rapidly between the two men and his heart was picking up its incessant pounding inside his chest. He wanted the same answers as his father…but he was afraid that they might not be the answers he wanted. And if that was the case then he didn't want to know…not if it meant he didn't get his brother back in the same obnoxious condition he had been in before all this crap went down.
"I mean, Mr. Winchester that the surgery was successful…but we won't know if there was other damage until he wakes up and we can talk to him." The doctor didn't like giving bad news…and this case they didn't even know if the news was bad. But he wanted to prepare the small family for whatever the outcome might be…promising or otherwise.
Sam sank onto the bed near Dean's feet and watched the interaction between the two men. He had known that Dean was strong enough to make it through the surgery…but a battle inside his own mind? Sam wasn't so sure that Dean could win that one. He leaned down and placed a hesitant hand on his brother's ankle and then sighed when there was no reaction.
His father walked over and pulled a chair out once the doctor had left. John looked at his two sons and felt his heart constrict with unvoiced emotions. He bit at his lower lip and then leaned forward… "Sam?"
Sam's weary eyes connected with his fathers. "Yeah?" John tilted his head and really looked at his youngest boy. Sam had grown several inches since the last time he had taken the time see the kid. But he also looked far older than his fifteen years…and sad…Sam looked so sad.
"Ya know…I remember the day I took Dean to meet you…after you were born." He chuckled and a smile finally reached his eyes as he continued. "He was so excited…he couldn't sit still in the back seat of the Impala. He kept asking when he could go out and play with you…when you'd be ready to throw a ball with him." He raised his hand to touch Sam…and then let it drop without making contact. "But you know what I remember the most?"
Sam looked up and shook his head 'no', his eyes wide as he waited for his father to finish. He almost never talked about what Dean had been like when their mother was still alive…and Sam found that he was craving the information like he craved oxygen.
"He said he was a 'big brother' now…and that he was going to be looking out for you…for the rest of your life." John sighed and ran his hand down his stubbled face. Sam could feel the swell of emotions swirling around inside of him and the love that he had for his brother increasing…if that was even possible. "He just wanted to be a big brother Sam…that was the most important thing to Dean…even at four years old…and after fifteen years…that's never changed."
John knew that these were conversations that he'd had with Dean when Sam wasn't around…and he wasn't sure whether or not Dean would want Sam to now…because it might have him feeling guilty…not that he had anything to feel guilty for…but, John thought Sam should know how much Dean loved being his older brother.
Sam pulled in a shaky breath and nodded. Dean rarely talked about what life had been like before their mother had died. If it was brought up somehow, he always answered in a very robotic manner…that Sam was sure kept him from dropping into the emotional quagmire that was his brother's guilt complex.
They were interrupted a moment later when the door to the room was quietly pushed open and Bobby stuck his head inside. His truckers cap firmly in place on his head and a very worried expression on his face. "Mind if I interrupt?" He asked as he slipped into the room.
John and Sam shook their heads simultaneously. Bobby grabbed the other chair and pulled it over so that he could see the pale visage of the boy lying in the hospital bed. Bobby had known Dean for the whole of Sam's life…he'd seen firsthand the stage where Dean hadn't spoken for almost a year after the death of their mother. He would communicate with Sammy…but that was it…and it hadn't been in words. They had developed their own 'language' and it was one that neither John nor Bobby had been able to decipher. But he'd loved that boy from the moment the freckled, little green-eyed, blonde haired kid had stumbled across his old porch and into his kitchen, following his father like a small shadow.
But as Bobby looked at the silent figure lying in the bed he wondered if Dean would be strong enough to pull himself back this time. He was going to have to fight his demons alone this time and make his way back to both his family and himself without the aid of his support structure. Because that's what Dean's family was for him…a support structure that he relied on heavily.
"How's he doing?" Bobby asked.
John waived his hand at the still body of his oldest son. "We don't know yet. Surgery went well…but he needs to wake up before they'll know for sure how he faired."
Sam's eyes shifted back to Dean's face and he watched for any sign that his brother was coming around…any sign that Dean was coming back from whatever precipice he was teetering on. There was nothing…no movement behind the eyes, no twitch…absolutely nothing.
XXXX
Dean pushed against the thick mud and he finally managed to break the surface, his lungs burning for oxygen and finally managing to pull it in through his split lips. He gulped the air like it was going to run out if he didn't fill his lungs with the substance. He could hear the thunder pounding overhead and the constant flashing from the various bolts of lightning was washing his world in brilliant white pulses.
His frantic gaze sought out a branch or something that he could use to pull his aching body from the cold mud that kept trying to suck him down. Finally saw a large clump of bushes just off to his right, he stretched his arms and twisted his fingers around the prickly branches. He swore as they cut into his palms, but he did not release his iron grasp of the plant. He pulled and felt his ribs pop as one separated, he groaned in pain but continued to haul himself until he was finally lying on top of the muddy deluge of water and debris. He wanted to pull in great gasping breaths of air, but his ribs were protesting loudly and with a sort of pattern that seemed similar to his heartbeat.
He felt more than heard the voice of his brother…it was floating on the winds that were still rippling through the naked trees. He stared at the sky in confusion…he could feel the presence of his little brother…in the trail, in the wind, and in the mud that he was lying on.
"Sammy…" he whispered…his hands twitching where they were still wrapped tightly around the thorny branches.
XXXX
John and Bobby had gone for some food and a couple of cups of coffee. They had offered to take Sam…but he had flatly refused. He told his father that he wasn't leaving until he could actually talk to Dean…make sure he was okay.
He was seated back in the chair, his hand resting on Dean's forearm as he tried to let his tired eyes rest…just for a minute. He was jolted up as a twitch ran through Dean's hand. Sam's eyes flew to meet the rapidly moving, but still closed, eyelids of his brother. "Dean?" He asked as he shifted so he was closer to Dean's head. He stared directly into his brother's face and waited…Sam's patience was finally rewarded a few moments later as Dean's eyes flickered and he cracked his lids open…the intense green of his pupils peeking through.
His gaze shifted back and forth for a few moments until they finally crashed into Sam's worried gaze and then they held still….almost like they'd frozen there. "Dean?" Sam asked again. He watched as Dean continued to stare at him, his eyelids blinking owlishly. "Can you understand me?" Sam was getting more and more worried the longer he stared at his brother's silent form. Dean was awake…but he didn't seem to remember Sam…he was just staring out like he didn't quite understand the world as a whole.
Dean never nodded or shook his head…he just stared silently at this person that was staring at him with such a look of loss and concern that he wished he could take it away. There was something so familiar about the face…but whatever it was…he couldn't hang onto his thoughts long enough to figure it out. So he stayed silent.
He wasn't afraid, somehow he knew that this set of worried, soft eyes would try to protect him…would be there for him…needed him. He pulled in a long slow breath and then his eyelids slid shut as exhaustion robbed his body of much needed energy and he slipped back to sleep.
Sam was now in full out panic mode…Dean didn't know him…his eyes had never once shown any sort of recognition. The tears that he'd held at bay since the doctor had returned Dean to this room finally made an appearance. They ran unchecked down his cheeks as he stared at the now sleeping figure of his older brother. He heard voices in the hall and that had his eyes flickering over to the door as his father laughed and pushed it open followed by the scowling form of his friend. "…No they never…" John stopped mid-sentence when he recognized the frantic broken look in his son's eyes.
"Sam, what happened?" He stepped around Sam to see Dean…he was still sleeping. He glanced back at Bobby and then his moved once again to Sam. "Sam?"
Sam gulped back his tears and then swallowed heavily before he sank onto the bed. "He…Dean…he…woke up…" His eyes didn't light up like they should have, so John remained quiet waiting for an explanation. "Dad…Dean didn't seem to…know me…He didn't recognize me." Sam's voice broke and his eyelids slid closed as he tried to cut off his grief.
John looked quickly back at Bobby. "What do you mean, he didn't know you?" He moved closer to the bed and looked down at Dean's quiet form…his son's breathing was easy and even.
Sam shook his head numbly and then looked his father in the eyes. "He didn't know who I was Dad…there was no recognition there…he didn't know who I was…" Sam finally broke and a sob echoed through the room…
John turned and sprinted from the small hospital room, telling the nurses to get that damn doctor down here immediately. He was back moments later and had pulled his son's stiff body into his arms and hugged him for all he was worth. "He's going to be okay Sam…" he said into the top of his son's head where he rested his cheek.
Dr. Thompson walked in a minute later. "You rang?" He said with a tilted head and a hint of irritation…he'd been on duty for the last 35 hours...and frankly he was so tired the plants in his office seemed to have opinions for him. But he'd determined that he wouldn't be leaving this hospital until Dean woke up and he knew that the teen was going to pull through the surgery.
"Dean woke up." John started and moved when the doctor immediately went to the bed and started to writing down things from the many machines that were hooked up to his son. "Sam was the only one here…Dean didn't know him." He looked at the medical professional as though it was his fault that his youngest son was crying in his arms and his oldest didn't recognize them.
The doctor's eyes flashed up to the fathers and then over to the face of his son. "He had no recollection of you?" He had hoped that this wouldn't be a complication…but as he looked at the broken boy who shook his head 'no'…he knew that they hadn't been that lucky. He sighed and then turned to look at the small group in the room. "This surgery…the location is tricky…anything in the frontal lobe can be connected to both the Amygdala and the Hippocampus…both of which are responsible for both sense memory and short term memory. When we removed the tumor, we were forced to go in through this section of the brain…Dean may need to relearn certain things…but his memories of you should come back with time…as they are long-term not short-term."
Sam listened with a sinking heart…his brother would forget certain things? Like what? But as he remembered the blank look in Dean's green eyes he realized that while Dean hadn't seemed to know who he was…he wasn't afraid of Sam. He didn't seem worried about having Sam in his room while he was vulnerable. So that's a good sign…right?
"How long?" Sam asked carefully. He extracted himself from his father's arms and stood directly in front of the doctor. "How long will it take before we know exactly what he remembers…or doesn't remember?"
The doctor shrugged. "Sam, it all depends of the person. He's going to have to want to remember and it'll be painful at times. Particularly if he gets a large chunk of memories back all at once. You have to understand that it would be akin to a person that had never been able to see, being bombarded by vision…that's what it'll feel like for him. All these memories that he won't understand will come back all at once…and that could include the ones from his…torture…or even earlier." He watched as that particularly nasty thought worked its way through the tiny group. Three sets of eyes widened and their mouths dropped open in a small 'o', of understanding.
TBC…
Author's Note: So another twist…but remember that this is set up as a trilogy…so there will be plenty more time to push Dean down the road of recovery. I am writing the next chapter currently and it should be up by the end of Monday…Thanks for the reviews and PM's. It's all working toward a resolution…just not yet.
Please Review: I know you were expecting Dean to wake up and all would be well, but the frontal lobe is a tricky place for a surgical procedure.
