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Chapter Ten
Oh God, what the hell did I do? With one last look at his brother, Sam spun around, ran to the ladder, practically slid down it, and took off at a dead run toward the back of the barn. Dropping to his knees beside Drake, he lightly pressed trembling fingers against the artery at the side of his brother's throat, and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally detected a pulse. Then lowering his head, he tilted it to the side and silently listened and watched until he heard Drake's weak raspy breath and saw his chest slowly rise and fall.
"Drake, ya gotta wake up for me," he pleaded, eyes filling with tears, "come on, lil' brother, open your eyes, an' talk to me."
"Sss'mm," Drake slurred, eyes fluttering open briefly before they rolled backward, and his eyelids closed again. "Ss'hurs." Wincing, he cried out as he weakly clutched at his side.
"It's gonna be okay, I gotcha ya, lil' brother," Sam breathed, carefully prying his brother's hand away from his side so he could take a look at the injury. It was then that he spied the large pointy rock that had sliced through Drake's shirt and skin. With shaky hands, he slowly lifted his brother's shirt, and noted that although fairly deep, the jagged wound was not a life-threatening injury as long as he could control the bleeding. Pulling off his jacket and flannel shirt, he pressed the soft fabric of the shirt against the gash, and cursed under his breath as Drake cried out again.
Craning his neck, he glanced up at the wide opening in the barn high overhead and cursed under his breath again as he saw that it was a lot further up than he'd first thought as someone had used a backhoe to unearth the area around the barn's foundation at some point. "I have to get you to the hospital."
"N-no," he stammered as his eyelids sluggishly lifted open, and he tried to focus terrified dilated eyes on Sam. "Sss'uz mm'job."
"They're not gonna find out you were high," Sam lied, knowing that as soon as the doctors ordered any sort of blood work the drugs in his system would show up on the reports. "You could have internal injuries, Drake; I have to take you to the hospital."
"Mm'no' g-goin'," Drake stubbornly refused, and in true Dean Winchester fashion, he struggled to push himself upward only to let out a sharp cry and fall backward to the ground again.
"Dean, I can't . . . ." Pressing his eyes closed, Sam let out a slew of curse words as he realized that he had slipped and called Drake by his brother's name. "You could die, Drake. I can't let that happen – I won't let that happen."
"Pl-please, Sss'mm," he panted breathlessly, body beginning to tremble uncontrollably with shock, and against his better judgment, Sam nodded.
"Listen to me, Drake," he ordered as he wrapped his jacket around his brother, and gripped hold of his hand, "I have to go get the first aid kit from my car and find something I can use to immobilize your head and neck then I'll be right back – Don't try an' move while I'm gone. Understood?"
"Mmm'hmm."
Leaping to his feet, Sam raced to the Impala, got inside and drove it back behind the barn. As soon as he parked the car a few feet away from where Drake was lying on the ground, he was out of his vehicle in a shot, and rushing to the trunk to gather together the first aid kit, a thick towel, duct tape, and several heavy blankets.
His heart beat thundered in his ears as he hurried to his brother and dropped down beside him once again. Rolling up a blanket, he gently lifted Drake's legs, placed it beneath them, and then wrapped the other two around him. Then fashioning the towel into a makeshift neck brace, he carefully slipped it beneath his brother's neck and wrapped it around, securing it with a long strip of duct tape.
"'Mm gonna be s-sick, Sss'mm." The words had scarcely left Drake's mouth when he heaved and gagged, choking on his own vomit.
As carefully and quickly as he could possibly manage, Sam rolled him onto his side and his heart slammed into his throat when he saw Drake's shaggy hair slicked with blood. Body trembling, he mulled over all the other things he might be missing, and determined that he wasn't willing to take the risk. "Drake, you're going to the hospital – I know they're gonna find out you're high on something, but you could be bleeding internally, an' I can't fix that."
"Ss'is m-my righ' ta refuse treeemm," Drake slurred as he struggled to keep his drooping eyelids opened and stay focused on Sam. "Nnaa gonna sss'uz mm'job."
From his years in law school, Sam knew Drake was right. As long as he was conscious, and understood the risks, he could refuse any and all medical treatment. Which left Sam with only two choices – he could either do his best to make sure Drake stayed alive long enough for the drugs to leave his system or he could knock him out cold thereby making sure he couldn't refuse treatment. And although the second option sounded pretty damn good at the moment, he just couldn't bring himself to hurt his little brother anymore than he already had.
"What the hell did you take, you stupid son of a bitch?" he growled as he snatched the first aid kit off the ground, flung open the lid and rummaged through it to find gauze and medical tape. "An' this time you'd better damn well answer me so I'll know if I can give you anything for the pain or if you'll just have to ride it out."
"Crssss mmmthh . . . ."
"Crystal Meth?" Sam's eyes widened incredulously as Drake gave a slight nod, wanting to smack the living hell out of him for being so stupid. "Where the hell did you get it from?" he asked, determined to find whoever it was and make sure it was the last time the person ever gave drugs to anyone.
"Fr-friend."
"Your friend's a dead man when I find him," Sam breathed the vow as he quickly worked to bandage up Drake's head injury, and then moved lower to cover the long gash on his side. As he glanced back at Drake and noticed his eyes were closed, he gently shook him, and breathed a thankful sigh when his brother's eyelids sluggishly fluttered open. "You're gonna have to stay awake for me, lil' brother. Understand?"
"Mm'so tired, Sss'mmmy," Drake mumbled, eyeballs rolling backward as his eyelids drooped closed again.
"Yeah, I know you are, but you fall asleep, you might not wake up – so you are staying awake for me. Got that?"
His lips quivered as they parted slightly and his tongue slid out to drag along them. "R-really h-hate ya."
Tears stinging at his eyes, Sam squeezed them shut. "I already know that, so think of something else to say cuz even if you do hate me, I'm still not letting you go to sleep." Body trembling, he wearily rose to his feet, and searched around until he found two tree branches thick enough to use as a brace for the younger man's leg, and then returned to his spot.
"I almost lost my brother Dean three times before th-they . . . ." his voice trailed off on a stammer, not sure why he was telling Drake about Dean, but needed something to fill the unbearable silence only broken by the younger man's soft cries and moans as Sam worked to set his leg. "See, the first time I thought it was a real miracle that he lived – I was a believer an' jumped wholeheartedly on the bandwagon. But Dean didn't see it that way . . . an' he was right – there are always consequences that have to be paid."
"'Sss a miracle, Ss'mmy . . . didnaa wanna die."
Sam's head snapped up, certain in those few seconds Dean had somehow managed to break through, and saw in Drake's pain-filled gaze a look that solely belonged to his brother. "The second time – " Sam licked at his lips, and swallowed hard as he thought of finding his father on the hospital room floor, and how the cup he'd been holding slipped from his grasp, coffee spilling to splatter across bland white tiles as he rushed to his dad's side. "My dad made his own kind of miracle for my brother – an' the last time, my brother followed my dad's lead an' made a miracle for me – an' with everything in my heart, I wished to God he hadn't."
"Mm'loved ya, Ss'mmy."
"I know you did, Dean," Sam breathed, wiping away the tears rolling down his cheeks with back of his hand. "An' I hope you knew the feeling was mutual."
An abrupt cry ripped from Drake's lips, and wrapping his arms around his stomach, he tried to curl inward, but Sam snaked out his arms, and gripped onto his shoulder to keep him from moving. "H-Hurzz, Jake . . . l-le' g-go o' m-me."
Sam pushed down the painful lump in his throat as he heard Drake call him by his brother's name. "I know it does, Drake, but you have to stay still or you could make matters worse than they already are."
"Knew y-you'd come back ta m-me." A brief smile flitted across Drake's features then was overshadowed by a grimace as he cried out again.
"You've gotta let me take you to the hospital, lil' brother," Sam uttered as he gathered Drake into his arms, and carefully lifted him off the ground to rest against his chest. "You're not gonna live long enough long enough for the drugs to be out of your system – no matter what you do, they're gonna find out."
"N-no . . . made a pr-promise ta sss-save 'em if m-my fam – " His words died abruptly as he began choking and gagging, and Sam swiftly tilted him sideways so he could throw up once more.
Eyes widening, Sam drew in a sharp staggering breath when he saw blood splatter to the ground and drip down Drake's chin. Body going suddenly limp, Drake's head drooped to the side.
"Drake!" Heart slamming hard against the wall of his chest, Sam laid his brother on the ground, and leaned down to listen and feel for his breath, to no avail. "No! You're not dying on me again, Dean!"
Tilting his brother's neck back, he pried open his mouth, cleared it out the best he could, and pinching Drake's nose, blew into his mouth – but Sam's breath came right back out without a rise in the younger man's chest.