Usual disclaimers apply, and as always because I'm an absolute clutz all mistakes are mine. Really nervous about this chapter as it is so Sammy centric in angst. Want to say that I know I am long past posting this chapter as scheduled - mainly because of a vampiric RL . But my thanks for all the wonderful reviews, PM and nudges of support still hold true despite the fact that I havent been able to say my thanks across the board for your support. Seriously I am attempting to lock up my gloriously mercurial teenage from hell in a dark cupboard along with my bulimic cat Casper that I am now convinced is possessed (as in let me shove my furry paw down my gob and splatter every available floor space in every room in sickly cat vomit ala Linda Blair) this weekend so hopefully I can get back and say to one and all my thanks then.
Okay coming down from caffeine high so sorry for the ramble. And despite my tardiness reviews seriously devoured. Rozzy
Growing Pains – Chapter 10: Fever
White noise hissed in his head as viciously real as any army of pseudo-gremlins pick axing away in his brain might do. Despite it though Sam's face puckered up mirroring his confusion as he asked, "Pastor Jim? That really you?"
"Yes my boy its me," answered Jim with a soft smile, just glad of some recognition. Gripping his shoulder in a gentle squeeze he murmured softly, "Forgive me lad I didn't mean to scare you when I pulled to a halt like that. I must have seemed like some crazed madman chasing after you."
Sam's vision swam and he had to shake his head before the world came back into view again. Then as Murphy's words sunk in he glimpsed at his own split knuckles and then at the blood spilling freely down the older man's face the truth hit home, "Oh god, I thought... I hit you, didn't I?
Smiling weakly Jim answered truthfully, "You certainly take after your father in having hands of iron!"
Eyes widening in alarm Sam couldn't contain another shudder and pulled himself guilty away from the man's touch taking a full step backwards, "I… I didn't mean to hurt you."
On seeing what looked like panic settling in again with the boy Jim shook his head and tried once again to reach out to him with verbal persuasion, "I know Sam. It doesn't mean anything. Lets just get out of the rain. You look close to done in here."
Swallowing convulsively Sam was unsure what to do next. Eyes nervously followed Murphy as he opened the passenger door and indicated for him to hop in but he couldn't force his legs to move. This is not what his dad would expect from him the voice of reason kept screaming in his head. Not after the mistakes he had made with Burnett.
Impatience breaking through Jim huffed out, "Now see here Sam I don't know about you but I am close to freezing here. Just get in the car before we both die of exposure."
Fingering his split knuckles to his lips, tasting the blood in the cracks, evidence of yet another slip-up, he could already hazard a guess to what his dad's reaction would be this time.
Shaking not just from the cold Sam admitted, "I try to be good but every time I get it wrong. Why do I keep on doing that Pastor? Why can't I show him I can be as good as Dean and suck it up like he would, why?"
Jim didn't have time to muster a reply as Sam spun purposely on his heals and headed away from him, head bowed once again in defence of the continued deluge determined to be on his way back up to the lane under his own steam.
For a boy so near to collapse only seconds before Jim couldn't mask his surprise at the speed he had taken off, "Please Lord give me a break here," he muttered under his breath wiping the rain out of his eyes before calling after him, "This doesn't make a lick of sense Sam. Why are you doing this?"
"Because I'm a stupid no hope waste of space," laughed back Sam weakly though the humour was lost on the pastor.
Shouting out his frustration Jim's voice raised a full octave, "This is not funny young man, get back here now."
Jim's mind scrambled for an answer on what to do next when Sam ignored him not liking how out of control things were. John's youngest clearly possessed that annoying Winchester family characteristic of being just plain stubborn and wasn't about to let him help him.
"This is beyond madness," he growled out loud before hopping back in the car and chased up the hill after his wayward escapee. It took only a few seconds to play catch up and like before he slewed across the lane to block Sam's path.
On exiting the car Jim made another grab for Sam as he tried to blindly walk past him, managing to snatch at his arm to spin him around to face him. Annoyance mixed with concern made his voice sharp as he spat out, "Listen you young pup you will get your sorry butt into the car or so help me…"
Tensing for another explosive reaction from the youngest Winchester he instead cursed out loud as he watched Sam visibly sag and felt him slipping away from his grip as his too long coltish legs seemingly lost the power to keep him upright.
Hastily Jim snatched at the front of Sam's jacket to steady him, frightened that he would hurt himself on the hard road surface if he fell. Confident that he managed to stop his descent he wrapped his arms around him in a tight cinch and whispered his desperation in his ear, "Come on don't make things so hard for an old man like me, let me help you here son."
A muffled voice met his plea as Sam's despair spilled out in a weak voice, "Not good enough to be anyone's son. Not his anyways."
The unnatural heat radiating out from Sam was a true indication to how sick the boy was and Jim held him tighter, "Shush Sammy, don't say such things. Lets get you back home to your dad and things can be made better. Okay?"
Sam pulled his head up away from the warmth and the comfort of the Pastor's shoulder, and tried to find the strength again to support his own weight taking a cautious step away from him as he admitted through chattering teeth, "You can't make things okay. He said… he just hates me."
"Ah no lad, your father has been worried sick about you, as have we all. I'm begging you to trust me now and let me get you home before you make yourself even sicker. Please Samuel."
Jim couldn't hide his relief when Sam studied him with half closed eyes before he threw him an almost imperceptible nod of agreement. "That's a good lad."
Quickly he guided Sam back to the car not daring to look a gift horse in the mouth as he knew it was more to do with the fact that the boy looked like he couldn't walk another step unaided rather than willingly want to follow his commands.
For his part Sam had gotten into the car trying to quell the flutter of fear in his tummy the action brought. The pastor had asked him to trust him but he couldn't help but flinch as the driver's door slammed shut and memories of his last car journey came flooding back.
His disquiet increased when the pastor went to pull the seatbelt across and he found himself pushing him away voicing out his distress at his proximity, "No, no, don't"
"Saints preserves us lad you're just going to keep on adding to my grey hair if you keep on acting up like this," growled out Jim giving up the battle when Sam looked ready to hit him again.
Murmuring under his breath as he pulled away, "It's just a short ride, no seatbelt if that's what you want." He reasoned he would just have to drive slower especially with the dangerous driving conditions and the skittish passenger by his side.
Sam dropped his head to rest it on the dash as confusion tore away at him. The thrum of the engine vibrated through his skull matching the constant throb in his head. He knew that the pastor wasn't Burnett but it still felt wrong to be here with him. His dad already so disappointed in him would have expected more from him and he muttered out his confusion, "Its not right. I'm doing it all wrong again."
"What's not right Sam?" Jim eyed him with concern, noting the flush riding the top of his angular cheekbones, wondering just how much of what he had seen and heard from the boy tonight was fever induced.
Pulling himself up Sam shook his head, looking through the windscreen as the car ate up the distance to the cabin and to his father. "I shouldn't be doing this. Not again. He wants me to be like Dean and suck it up, make him proud, but all I do is make him ashamed that I'm his son."
Disagreeing Jim quickly returned with his own thoughts, "Somehow I doubt even your dad could thinks such a silly thing. You're a fine young man Sam Winchester, anyone that knows you thinks so."
Unable to spare a look at Sam having to focus on the road as it went round a sharp bend he struggled to keep the car gripped to the slippery road surface and didn't see the look of disbelief shot his way.
For Sam only the condemning memories of his dad's accusing words about Burnett screamed freshly at him now. Through the fog in his head an urgency to be out of the car and not repeat the mistakes he had made two nights earlier fuelled his actions as he agitatedly curled his fingers over the door handle.
A hand, heavy and forceful, slapped Sam's fingers away before a strong tug at his collar pulled him firmly back in his seat. Tersely Jim barked out "For heavens sake stop this nonsense before you make me crash the damn car."
The pastor was rewarded by a tremulous gasp from Sam not realising the impact of his words as they dredged up even more frightening memories. Confused he watched as Sam shook and he knew it was more than just from the cold, his eyes showing true fear as he mutely shook his head.
Instantly Jim regretted being so gruff and tried to explain away his temper, "I'm sorry Sam but you jumping out of a moving car would have caused a world of grief. You know your daddy would skin me alive if I let you get hurt in anyway."
A humourless laugh met his words and Sam turned a feverish face at the older man and added in a hoarse whisper, "He'll be to busy skinning me first."
Slowing down even further, mindful of Sam's apparent kamikaze mindset, Jim shook his head in denial, "Your not well Sam, that much is clear. You need to get better and then you'll see things cannot be as bad as you seem to think them. You know it might help if you tell me what happened today."
When there was no answer he placed a gentle hand above Sam's knee to try and pass on his support for the youngest Winchester. It was something he had done automatically since the boy beside him had been a toddler, but it ignited a reaction from the teenager that left him utterly shaken.
For Sam it had been a touch too much, evoking memories of Burnett's fingers squeezing hard on his thigh and the suggestion that went with it. With all his might he pushed Jim's hand away and screamed out, "You keep your stinking hands off me."
Startled by his reaction Jim skidded to a halt, wondering what was causing the boy's panic again. As he watched Sam withdraw further from him he was forced to ask, "You readying to hit me again Samuel?" When Sam mutely shook his head in denial he asked, "Then just what the hell is going on here with you?"
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," answered Sam barely able to breathe through the terror pounding in his chest, eyes brimming with unshed tears of fear and pain, "Oh god, I'm so sorry I don't mean to freak out."
All Jim wanted to do was hold him tight and make things right for him but he held back. Instead his hands trembled on the steering wheel frightened of distressing his young charge even more and he was forced to confess, "Sam you're scaring me more than a little here. I won't touch you I promise or ask any more questions if that's what you want. Lets just get you back to your dad."
When there was no response other than Sam panicked breathing lessening he swallowed hard and started up the engine, left wondering just what on earth had happened to the boy to leave him violent one second and seemingly broken the next.
It took just a few short minutes to get them back to the cabin and the silence remained between them with Jim not trusting himself not to say or do the wrong thing with the youngster. Finally as he parked up he dared throw Sam a concerned look and asked gently, "We're here. You need my help getting out?"
When Sam shook his head Jim had to stand back and watch as he inched his way cautiously out of the car and made his way slowly back to the cabin. Every instinct in him screamed that the boy was about ready to fall flat on his face but reluctantly he was forced to stay on the sidelines as Sam's reaction in the car still scared him into inaction.
After a long minute Jim dared to pass by him and pushed open the front door to step inside calling out for the absent John. When there was no answer he turned his attention back to Sam noticing with a frown how the boy hovered seemingly frozen by the open door unsure whether to cross the line of salt or not.
"Your dad's not here Sam. I guess he's out there looking for you. Come in and lets set about getting you dry then we'll ring him."
Lifting a heavy leg slowly over the line of salt Sam owlishly looked at the thick layer as water splashed down on it from his dripping clothes and hair. Gasping in concern he froze, "No, stupid - see…have to redo it all over again."
Risking physical contact Jim caught at his elbow and forcibly guided Sam's trembling form over the salt line, "Don't worry about that now Sam. I can sort it out for you."
His stomach flip-flopped at the genuine smile of relief that crossed the youngster's face and feeling a little more confident that he had his trust back again he steered him into the kitchen.
The heat that hit them only reinforced Sam's delicate state as his shivering continued. Carefully he made Sam sit on a chair and slowly peeled off his sodden jacket only for a snort of disbelief to escape on seeing only a thin long sleeved t-shirt underneath. "Blast it to hell its no wonder your sick. You realise you're no longer in California right?"
"Wisconsin," murmured back Sam as his ability to think clearly once again deserted him as he wished the world of hurt his body was in to just up and disappear, "I think I don't really like Wisconsin."
Jim closed his eyes briefly before nodding at Sam's honest statement, "Doesn't really matter son, let's just get you dried off and into some warm clothes."
Glad that Sam appeared to be warming up from the heat of the open stove he dared to hurry off to the bathroom to snatch up a towel and then a blanket from the bedroom. On his return he could see the boy was still shivering but was grateful at the sight because it meant that hypothermia hadn't yet set in.
"No, I can do that," muttered Sam with a note of petulance to his voice as he squirmed away from Murphy who had started to rub a towel through his hair. "Not that freaking helpless."
"Okay Samuel, you do that," agreed Jim softly as Sam slowly pushed the towel over his dripping hair.
Knowing how sensitive Sam was at the moment he didn't push to get the rest of his wet clothing off and instead draped the blanket around his trembling shoulders. "I'm going to ring your dad. You stay put and get yourself warmed up. Try and get out of those wet clothes as you're shivering up a storm son. Looks like you've caught yourself more than a bit of a chill."
He got a reaction as Sam shook his head at mention of his father and whispered sorely, "He's gonna be mad again isn't he?"
"He might be upset but never mad at you," Sam just huddled into himself at his words and Jim quickly asked, "What on earth possessed you to wander around in weather like this. I thought you had more sense son?"
Biting his bottom lip Sam dipped his head at the rapprochement, "Just dumb is all…"
Huffing out his disbelief Jim wiped the cuff of his shirt over his split brow to stop the congealing blood dribbling in his eye and thought better of asking any more questions. That could wait as he watched the boy shutting down all over again.
Digging into his pocket he pulled out his phone and remembering that John had lost his cell called Joshua instead.
o0o0o0o0o0o
All he could think as Caleb stripped him of all dignity and control as he tended his wounds was why hadn't the bastard just kept on driving rather than drag his tired shell out of the car into this? Would it really had been so terrible for the idiot to keep on driving because despite what he said he could have suffered another hundred miles of discomfort than be stuck in this prettified motel room just about now.
"Jesus Dean stop your squirming. I can't do this if you keep acting like a seven year old," groused Caleb bitterly as he pulled of the second from last dressing off Dean's sore frame. At the sight he traced hurriedly his fingers over the puckering wound and hissed slowly.
"Leave it out you fucking pervert," muttered Dean tersely as he felt Caleb's cold fingers linger on the wound on his right buttock.
The fact that he had his face buried in a pillow that smelt of lavender, on a bed in a motel room that screamed pastel pink Barbie, only made things worse and he squirmed accordingly. "Just slap a fresh dressing on and stop eyeing my ass."
"Wish I could dude, really wish I could," snapped back Caleb as he looked over the red and angry wound looking ready to turn septic on him fingers probing it as gently as he could as he muttered distractedly as he reached into his bag of medical supplies, "This is not my idea of having a good time. Believe me."
"Oh you fucking bitch that hurts," groused Dean as the sting of the antiseptic cream made itself felt, "I think you really are enjoying this. Making me suffer like this."
"Dean will ya stop being such a wuss," snapped back Caleb as he pulled back the last dressing for inspection on his left buttock and was thankful that at least this one seemed to be healing better than the other on the right cheek. "You know if you swallowed your pain meds when I told you to then they would have kicked in by now and you wouldn't be feeling any of this."
"Don't like them," pouted back Dean unable to stop a hiss of pain escape as Caleb's fingers set upon the last wound on his torn backside.
"Well I don't like you without them. Biggest pain in the ass ever."
Dean suddenly giggled under him and the absurdity of what he had just said and the situation they both found themselves hit home with Caleb and he confessed, "Dude could we be anymore gay?"
Turning his head to look at his friend with a dirty smirk Dean growled back, "Look man you're the one touching my ass right now. If any one has to question their sexuality it's certainly not me."
Eying the wounds with a huff of annoyance Caleb set about putting on clean dressings with an edge of irritation making his fingers less gentle, "Your such an ungrateful bastard Winchester. Not many friends would be doing this, patching up your sorry ass, not for love or money."
Wincing as he felt the less than gentle ministrations on his backside Dean carried on with his own tirade, "Yeah, well a good friend would remember to warm up their goddam hands before making a grab of the merchandise. Your bedside manner really stinks."
Caleb rolled his eyes as he put on the last dressing, "God I need a beer. A woman, and then another a beer or twelve."
Dean felt the pressure lessen on the bed and snapped his head round to see Caleb heading for the bathroom to wash his hands. Awkwardly he pulled up his jeans, wincing at the renewed tenderness movement caused him and slowly rolled on to his side and waited for his friend to reappear.
He couldn't disguise a frown when Caleb returned and picked up his jacket readying to go out. His need for a beer and something else perhaps outweighing his need to be on the receiving end of his foul temper he guessed.
Feeling more than a little guilty for his bad temper Dean offered up, "Hey man I didn't mean to have such a bitch fest. Just hard you know being like this."
"Just take your meds and we'll be cool," answered Caleb as he walked over to the bedside cabinet and dropped the bottles of medication by the tumbler of water. As he slipped on his jacket he asked, "You want pizza or burgers?"
Smiling in appreciation that he wasn't about to be deserted by his old friend Dean propped himself on his elbow, "Both."
Snorting out his amusement at the choice Caleb checked for his wallet before heading for the door only to still as Dean called after him. "Don't forget the frigging beer. Or the women."
o0o0o0o0o0o
"John calm down before you blow an aneurysm," demanded Joshua as he heard the splintering of wood as the door to an old shed was kicked open. Anxiously he looked back to the main house thankful that its occupants were not at home. Yet.
Ignoring the warning John stepped inside hollering out loudly, "Sammy, you in here?"
When there was no answer he swung the torch around the cobweb covered shed full of old work tools and little else and his face souring at the realisation that there was no place for a tall gangly teenager to hide away in.
"Damn it son don't do this to me." John's voice cracked as he added, "Just where the hell are you?"
Waiting outside Joshua shuddered as icy water dripped down the back of his neck and he pulled the zipper to his heavy jacket all the way up. Leaving John to further search the rambling collection of out houses he trundled back to the front of the main house to make sure that he hadn't missed anything important. Years of experience enabled him to distinguish between his and John's muddy footprints but of Sam's there was no signs.
Fear pinged away at him for the missing Winchester as the weather had turned decidedly for the worse with the temperature dipping close to freezing now. "You better be sitting in some old dear's living room sipping cocoa Sam safe and warm or your dad is gonna kill me for real this time."
When his phone rang out loud Joshua jumped slightly and felt a little foolish at his reaction, "Getting a little punch drunk you stupid fool."
His eyebrow spiked upwards in surprise on seeing Jim's I.D. flash up. "Hey Jimmy. You got to Baudette I take it despite the weather."
"Yes, I'm at the cabin. I presume that John is with you right now."
"Yeah we're at the bottom of the road. Papa Winchester has been terrorising the neighbours in search of his boy. Not a pretty sight I can tell you."
"Yeah well you just tell him that I've got Samuel and that he needs to get back here now." His final word came out in a condemning shout.
Relief washed over him and Joshua shouted out his appreciation, "Oh that's freaking wonderful news Jim. I'll go fetch the old grouch and we'll head straight back. "
"You do that because believe me when I say I want answers that's left a fifteen year old boy near half frozen to death thinking that his daddy hates him."
"Oh Jesus JM – just tell me that fool kid is fine, right?"
"Not by a long chalk," spat back Jim. "Sam seems traumatised, so much so when I stopped him on the road he threw a major wobble and near knocked my block off. You want to tell me what's been going on with the poor child?"
Sucking in a breath his fears resurfaced at wondering just how damaged Sam had been by Burnett but Joshua could offer little back to Jim, "Like I said earlier things went well and truly pear shaped with John and his boy. They both said terrible things to each other and Sam took off before John could do any damage control. Look Murphy I'll fill you in when we get back. Okay?"
"You do that. Just get that idiot of a father up here as soon as you can. His boy needs him."
Joshua flinched as his cell went dead more than a little surprised at the depth of the Pastor's anger. It took a lot to rile the man and even more for him to express true anger. Turning back to where he had left John he hollered out, "John listen up, Murphy's got Sam. Lets vamoose out of here."
In a matter of seconds John was jogging up to him his eyes swimming in relief, "Jim has my boy for sure?"
"Yeah. They're both back at the cabin. Gotta warn you that our usually sweet toned pastor sounded really pissed," remarked Joshua as he chased after his friend back to the truck.
"Doesn't matter as long as my boy is back home," answered John all too aware of what his mistakes had caused today. "He said he was okay right?"
"Just that Sam was half frozen and had also tried to knock his block. His words, not mine."
Taken aback at the news John stumbled to a halt, "Sam hit him? Anything else?"
"Just that he wanted words with us. I think we're in trouble here Johnny. Jim sounded really scary mad."
Nodding his understanding John face still split wide in relief. "I can take a tongue lashing as long as my boy is safe and sound."
"Speak for yourself," groused back Joshua, "I haven't had my ass tanned verbally like that since I was in the fifth grade and Mrs McGregor near made me piss my pants."
o0o0o0o0o
Sam's head felt unnaturally heavy refusing to remain supported as he rested his chin on his chest. The painful throb of earlier in the day was now a constant headache that wasn't helped by the debilitating shivers rippling through him.
Half aware he could hear Jim talking in the next room somewhat surprised at the ire in his voice though he couldn't make out the words, just glad they weren't being directed at him.
Tiredly he realised that at some point that he had stopped drying his hair as a drip of water run off his nose. Brushing it away with the back of his hand he tried to raise his head back up but the effort was too much and he leant back into his chest, not caring that his still wet hair covered his face.
A moment later he felt the towel being tugged from his lap but could offer up no resistance as the pastor started to rub it gently over his head. "You look like a half drowned rat Samuel. Not your best look I can tell you."
A small soft smile on his tired features greeted his remark before Sam randomly added his words coming out in a long drawl, "Dean he hates…… rats."
Jim smiled back, glad of the gentle interaction as he continued to towel off the long tangle of wet hair. He chuckled out loud, "Sure I remember New York two summers back when your big girl's blouse of a brother screamed like a banshee when one of those pesky little critters dropped on his shoulder in that cellar before going north and slipped inside of his collar."
"Yeah," grinned back Sam thinking on the memory, "That was some major girl time wasn't it?"
"Honestly son I don't know who was more scared, your dad on hearing him scream like that or Dean when that rat just upped and disappeared down his shirt. It was a good thing you had his back, wasn't it Sam?"
Sam closed his eyes at the memory and then threw the pastor a weak smile. "He didn't speak to me for three days afterwards. Said that there had to have been a better way of dealing with the 'problem'."
"Well the rat did end up as flat as a pancake when you hit your brother's back with a shovel. Rat guts and inwards plastered all over him…it wasn't pretty was it Sammy?"
He expected some come back from Sam at the chance of having some fun at his brother's expense but instead all he heard was the hiss of pain as it escaped and he stopped his ministration pulling the towel away to see a smudge of red mottling the fabric. "Sammy you're bleeding."
Frowning at the information Sam snaked up trembling fingers to the cut in his scalp before pulling them away stained crimson, "I busted it again. "
Sam held out his red-coated fingers to show just how much they were shaking as if that told the Pastor everything. "See - they wouldn't work properly to do stitches."
Without waiting for permission Jim pulled back Sam's drying bangs and winced at seeing the deep gash in the hairline and the large purpling bruise on his forehead. "When did this happen? Why didn't you get your dad or Josh to fix it?"
With a smidge of indignation to his voice Sam drew back, "I fixed it. If hadn't been for the stupid rain it would be fine."
"No son, this is not fine at all." Pressing the towel over the wound to staunch the flow of slowly dripping blood he pulled up Sam's hand to keep it in place. "I'm going to ask again and this time I want a proper answer. Just when did this happen? The wound looks like it should been stitched days ago."
Pouting his annoyance at the questions Sam shrugged before answering with a hoarse voice thickening with emotion, "There was no one here to do it when it happened. I thought I got it all sorted."
Drawing in a calming breath to suppress the fear churning in his stomach Jim turned Sam's face up to his, eyes mirroring his concern, "Sam how did this happen?"
"Smacked it into a windscreen is all," whispered back Sam flinching when he heard the pastor suck in a breath of alarm.
"A windscreen?" Sam's reaction to being in his car only minutes earlier hit home and Pastor looked appalled at him, "You had a crash didn't you. When Samuel?"
Eyes filling with tears Sam shook his head afraid to let the truth be known again, "I don't wanna tell you. You'll get cross with me too."
Jim got no further in his questioning as the front door slammed open and John's deep voice boomed out, "Sam!"
The youngest Winchester physically shot up straight in fear at hearing his father's voice and Jim kept a hand on his shoulder in support. "Don't you worry Sam, it will be okay."
John tore into the kitchen coming to an abrupt halt on seeing the bloodied towel wrapped across his son's head. "Shit, what the hell happened?"
Wide-eyed Sam looked at he pastor and heard him speak for him, "Seems your boy hit a windscreen a while back, badly enough to need stitches."
Under his scraggy five day old beard John's face turned chalk white as Jim peeled back the towel and showed him the wound deep in his hairline. "Jesus boy, why on earth didn't you say something this morning?"
"Rule number one remember?" murmured Sam turning his head away from his father's searing gaze, hating to seem so weak yet again.
John rocked on his heels at his words appalled that his boy could think he wouldn't care and the shock made his voice sound harsh, "You damn well got hurt you idiot, that means more than some stupid coffee. What were you thinking?"
On hearing John's gut felt reaction Jim couldn't contain himself any longer and defensively stood in front of him and his son, "I may not know all the facts yet but it seems that your youngest is thinking that you hate him. That your ashamed of him or some nonsense like that."
When John went to protest he put up a hand to stop him, "No it doesn't really matter now does it - on whose right or wrong here. All I know is that this boy of yours is a mess and you'll be lucky if he doesn't come down with bloody pneumonia or worse. Deal with that first then start defending yourself to me."
Joshua who had thought it wise to stand in the quick exit of the kitchen doorway sucked in his alarm at the pastor's harsh words but secretly felt some relief that Jim with all his authority and years of experience was keeping things under his control. And maybe getting John sorted out in the process. If anyone could make the stubborn man see sense it was Murphy.
"Sammy?" John whispered guiltily moving around his old friend to notice for the first time just how unwell his youngest boy looked.
Sinking down on his knees he ignored Sam's reaction as he drew back at his approach and purposely cupped his chin gently, turning his face up to him. He was met by dull eyes sunken into their sockets and the forced bright rosy glow of fever flush on his cheeks.
Noting his unnatural warmth John looked over his son carefully and shook his head before rubbing a comforting hand over his shoulder, "Ah son what a mess we made of things, eh? You know Dean will blow a gasket if he comes back and your not one hundred percent fighting fit."
When Sam just blinked slowly back at him he stood up, "Come on son we need to get your temperature down and this cut stitched up before tucking you up in bed."
Not getting the expected reaction of anger from his dad at having screwed things up again Sam sucked in a confused breath wondering when it was going to explode out of him.
Not trusting this gentler visage in front of him to remain he threw a look over at Jim voicing his apprehension, "Pastor… I don't want Dean to get mad at me too but he will cos' I promised I wouldn't screw up with dad and I did. I mustn't be sick now or he'll know won't he?"
John flinched at the words, knowing that his son in his fever was looking to his old friend for support rather than himself.
Throwing John a look of sympathy Jim shook his head, "No Samuel you're not letting anyone down my lad, least of all your brother. Listen to your father and let him make you better now."
Glad of the chance to redeem himself with Jim's soft words John crouched back down trying to make his son feel comfortable again in his presence. "Sammy stop worrying kiddo, things will be alright. I promise."
"You promise?" asked Sam looking suddenly all of twelve and frighteningly innocent as he stared back at his dad with hope in his eyes.
Swallowing back a small choking sob John nodded and pulled his son's head to his shoulder cradling the nape of his neck with a reassuring hand as he whispered on the crown of his head, "I promise Sammy, everything really will be fine."
"I'm sorry dad…sorry I let you down. Sorry I said all that stuff…" snuffled back Sam as he leant fully into his father's touch. A touch he had been desperate for ever since Burnett fingers had left their mark.
Drawing in a steadying breath John pressed him closer to him despite the wound to his head, needing the comfort of his youngest against him to offset the pain pinging in his chest at his failings, "No baby boy, don't you say that. I said things I'm not exactly proud off. This was never your fault son, never yours."
Wanting answers but having the patience to wait for the right time to ask Jim offered up, "I'm going to get my med kit and rustle up some warm clothes for the boy. He needs to get that fever down John. You got Tylenol right?"
When he got a half nod from John he left passing Joshua in the doorway with a dark glare. "You better come with me and start filling me in on what exactly went on here. You were supposed to make sure the boy was safe you idiot."
Feeling like a chastened schoolboy Joshua clamped his mouth shut into a tight line and meekly raced after the furious pastor whose long stride took him out of the car and back to his car.
On hearing the two men leave John sucked in a desperate breath. His boy still trembled in his arms and he realised that could be in part to the fact that he hadn't taken off his own wet jacket. Gently pushing Sam back he shrugged out of his heavy jacket and assessed his boy again not liking what he saw.
Anger re-ignited his inner core as he realised that he had been failing his youngest again with a less than basic approach to parenting. The light spotting of sweat on his pale skin and the way his whole body trembled with fever were something he should have spotted straight away on his return and it should never have been left for Jim to point it out.
Kicking back into full parental mode he warned, "Sammy, you need to strip off out of these wet clothes. You'll never get warmed up with them on."
Lifting his head up Sam threw a querying look at his father, "All of them?"
"Just down to your boxers son. You want me to help you?"
When Sam shook his head he couldn't help but smile at his defiance, guessing that it was a combination of teenage mortification and pride that kept him at bay.
Fighting the temptation to step in he watched Sam stand up shakily up as he shrugged his feet out of his sneakers kicking them to the far side of the room and then pulled off his soaked jeans before hastily wrapping the blanket around his exposed lower half.
As if thinking the job was done Sam sat back down again and John frowned. "Your top too. It's soaked through."
Nodding his acceptance Sam went to lift the hem of his shirt then stopped abruptly, his eyes rimming with tears as he confessed, "I… I can't."
"It has to come off son," rebuked John softly, coming nearer to help whether his son wanted it or not.
Fearful eyes stopped his approach as Sam whispered out, "I can't Sir."
Thinking him embarrassed at the prospect of being semi naked John laughed softly, "Its nothing I haven't seen before kiddo. Come on arms up and I'll pull it off then you can get into a hot shower and to bed."
Pitifully Sam shook his head and admitted, "It's stuck I think."
Failing to comprehend the meaning behind his words John started to tug up the shirt from the bottom of the hem when Sam whimpered in pain, "Please no dad. It hurts. My back…"
Letting go of the shirt John gingerly pulled Sam to his chest and looked over his shoulder to inspect back of the shirt eyes going wide on noticing a darker stain caused by more than just water in the hollow centre of his son's back.
Placing a gentle hand over the mark he could feel the unnatural heat coming from the site. "What happened here Sam?"
"I sort of hit a tree. Now it's a little sore is all."
Groaning out loud at his boy's brief admission John felt tears readying to fall. He had presumed his boy had walked away unscathed after his encounter with that pervert Burnett and now could no longer deny the physical cost or the emotional damage done, "That bastard did this, right son?"
"I didn't mean to let him dad. I didn't," sobbed back Sam as suddenly his ability to stay stoic and strong folded. "I tried to stop him. But he just picked me up and tossed me like I was nothing. Just nothing."
"Oh God I should have been here to stop this," confessed John as he watched his boy berate himself for mistakes that he as his father should have been able to prevent and not the other way round.
There was a long moment when John just held on to his son but then the practical side of his nature took over. "Okay Sam," he whispered as calmly as he could, "I need to look at this son."
Hesitantly he turned his son around and then slowly peeled back the shirt away lifting it higher off his back inch by inch till he couldn't help but gasp out loud at the sight that met his eyes.
Most of the flesh was a myriad of bruises, but more shocking was the festering wound in the small of his back just below the shoulder blades. Clearly infected it was beyond the ability of just a couple of Tylenol to fix. "This needs cleaning and dressing son."
"I tried to sort it out sir, I did," whispered back Sam unable to keep back a whimper as his dad's fingers traced over the edges of the wound.
Joshua who had returned with Jim's medikit in his hands gasped out loud at the sight that greeted him, "Of fucking hell. I didn't know, he didn't tell me John."
Biting back his need to scream his rage at the thought of his son being hurt like this John instead turned his head round to Joshua and asked hoarsely, "Just do me one thing here Josh, go get your doctor friend up here double speed. I want my boy checked out properly."
Joshua nodded sourly all to aware of John's unspoken thoughts that his boy needed to be professionally examined for something even more disturbing than an infected wound. Burnett's hands might have left their mark on Sam in ways he just didn't want to think about, "I'll be twenty minutes max Johnny."
Joshua barrelled past Jim without a word in his haste to get away from his own mistakes. Jim went to reproach him when he too saw the damage to Sam's back and his mouth went dry. "Oh my lord."
Sam suddenly aware of the scrutiny he was under tried to pull his shirt back down but his dad's hand gently tugged his fingers away, "No Sammy. This needs to be cleaned up."
"I'm sorry dad. I screwed up after I promised him I wouldn't."
"Sam this wasn't your fault."
"Yes, yes it is. I told him I wouldn't mess up things with him away. Please don't tell him, please," begged Sam.
Frowning John voice trembled at his son's words. "Tell who Sammy?"
"Dean." Fat easy tears fell freely now as Sam's deepest fears escaped, "Please don't let him hate me too. I'll do everything you ask. I'll finish the chores and will be two hundred percent more like him."
John watched flabbergasted as Sam continued to sob brokenly in front of him. He could barely remember the last time he's witnessed his youngest cry and only the memory of a small ten year old boy came to mind, not his wonderfully tall independent fifteen year old boy in front of him now.
Putting a firm hand on his shoulder he said firmly, "Son I want you to calm down, this is not doing you any good."
Snuffling Sam squirmed out of his grip to reach frenziedly under the table to heft the large bag of weapons into his dad's lap.
Grunting under the weight John tried to reach out and stop the frantic display but Sam had other ideas and danced away. "Check them all dad. I didn't make any mistakes."
"Sam please, sit down before you fall down." Grunted back John as he dropped the weapons bag onto the table. He stilled though when his eyes caught sight of the bruises on his son's thigh, visible finger prints left by Burnett and the room spun. It was a mark no man had a right to leave on his boy.
With the adrenal rush of fear coursing through his veins Sam anxiously paced the room as he confessed feverishly, "I cleaned them all. Made sure they were just as you liked them. Got them all polished, shipshape and ready. I didn't let Burnet stop me from doing that dad. I tried to make it all better before you got back."
Touching the cut in his scalp Sam quickly added in afterthought, "And I got rid of the mess in the bathroom I made so you wouldn't get mad. No blood anywhere, right? And didn't I keep the salt lines and the place safe? So please don't tell him dad. I can't have him thinking me worthless too."
Dumbstruck John watched as his youngest son's inner thoughts spilled out and all he could say after a pregnant pause was, "Oh god Sam stop it, you need to calm down before you do even more damage to yourself."
Sam to feverish to hear his words lurched around to fiercely catch at his dad's shirt in a tight bundle and begged harder, "Please sir. I'll be good, be just like you want me to be. I'll be perfect just like Dean if you let me dad. Just don't make my brother hate me like you do."
TBCSo I'm thinking another chapter or two with a wee epilogue as Dean gets fully back into the picture no matter how sore his as is or the timeframe waivers. Reviews, feedback and encouragement always warmly received despite my tardiness in saying my thanks. Rozzy.