Chapter 11

Sam stood in his corner, the corner he'd pretty much been shoved into by scrambling medical personnel, and watched as they not-so-gingerly lifted Dean up off the floor and back onto the bed, the movement obviously causing some kind of pain even in the unconscious state his big brother was in as he let out an agonized groan, but nothing else as he went silent again once he'd been laid back down and wasn't moving anymore. One nurse cleaned to blood off his hand and made an attempt at reinserting the dislodged IV line as another tried to finish the job Bobby and Sam had started by cleaning off his bloodied face, both sharing the same look of sympathy as they occasionally stole glances at Sam that didn't go unnoticed by him either. He wasn't sure just how much more he wanted to see as he watched them start to remove the soiled gown from Dean's lower body and was grateful when he felt the strong grip around his wrist pull him away from the scene and towards the door.

"Come on Sam, let's wait outside. He's got enough people in his personal business without us being there too, and I honestly don't think he'd want you watching them while they try to fix this one up."

Bobby practically dragged Sam across the room, the little resistance he was putting up forgotten when they'd exposed his brother's bottom half for everyone in the room to see, everyone including Sam and Bobby. Dried blood covered him from hip to hip and obscured all his sensitive parts, but the sight of the white cast stained red was enough and he needed no more prompting from the older hunter as he made for the door all on his own in a near sprint, his stomach turning and his head swimming. They both left the room as quickly as they possibly could, but as Bobby continued walking down the hall, Sam just stood in the doorway listening, not wanting to be in the actual room, but wanting to know what, exactly, was going on every second. He heard the doctor say the bleeding had stopped, asked one of the nurses to get ice packs and assumed it was the one that had just run right past him in a blur, then heard something he wished he hadn't.

The cry of pain from the room not only made Sam's stomach lurch, but made it turn over and over as it somersaulted up his throat and threatened to come out and continue down the hall and out the doors. He was already turned and about to run right back in when he felt that hand wrapped around his arm again, this time dragging him away from the door with quite some force. Sam tried to pull free, but Bobby held him firm and told him with his eyes that he just needed to stay put.

"Sam, you ain't no doctor, so you may as well just stay the hell out of there. The last thing they need is you gettin' in the way of what they're doing."

"But they're hurting him Bobby, you heard it yourself," he practically cried, not expecting Bobby to understand what he was feeling right now. Talk about adding insult to injury.

"No they're not Sam, they're helping him as best they can, and you'd best just let them do it in private. We're gonna wait down the hall, and when they're done, they'll come get you. You don't need to be waitin' in the doorway makin' yourself sick." Bobby clamped his grip harder on Sam's arm and walked him down the hall, and Sam started mindlessly following when he realized Bobby was right. There really was nothing he could do and blocking the doorway was making him a nuisance, so the two of them just plopped themselves onto the couches down the hall and started waiting, something Sam was utterly sick and tired of doing by now.

Sam couldn't keep his thoughts from spilling from his brain and out his mouth, and after a few long minutes finally asked the questions he'd wanted an answer to the second he saw his brother huddled up on the floor in a pool of his own blood. "What the hell happened Bobby? What did we do wrong? Why is this still happening? Why won't she just leave him alone?" Sam was rambling, and he knew it, but he couldn't stop it as the questions just kept flowing.

"Slow down Sam, one question at a time. I wish I knew what happened, but I don't, and the only one that can tell us it that brother of yours, so it looks like we're just gonna have to wait here to find out until he can tell us what he knows," Bobby answered just about all of Sam's questions in one sentence, letting out a long sigh as he did.

"You heard what they said, didn't you? That doctor they called is her brother Bobby. Do you think that's a good idea? I have a bad feeling about this, really bad." Sam's mind was thoroughly working now, trying anything to keep it occupied and off what was going on just down the hall as he watched people going in and out of the door to his brother's room like patrons at a fast food restaurant.

"What difference does it make who the doctor is Sam. You haven't had a bad one here yet, have you? And do you really think he'd want anything else bad to happen to Dean? Shit, his family is already on the line for all of this, so if anything, he'll take even better care of him, so will you just relax and let them do their damn jobs?" Bobby felt for Sam, and Dean, but he was starting to lose some, or not most, of his normally limitless patience. Yeah, he was worried about Dean too, but Sam was starting to go a little overboard.

Sam just shook his head at that, the tone of Bobby's voice sounding eerily like John's when he was starting to get annoyed, and decided he better just back off, shutting his mouth and taking up pacing the floor instead. He'd made the walk from one end of the hall to the other at least twenty times before someone finally approached them, the face totally unfamiliar to him, yet somewhat familiar. The blonde hair and blue eyes told him everything. Sam would recognize those blue eyes anywhere, he saw them every time he looked at Dean lately. It had to be Dr. Waterson the resemblance was just too coincidental.

Dr. Waterson extended his hand in greeting and waited for Sam to take it, which he mindlessly did and shook it rather vigorously, marveling at the face he saw before him. He'd seen that face before, only this morning, at his sister's grave. He was the vandal that had shot out the floodlight, and now couldn't he help but wonder why. He was definitely no frat boy doing it on a dare, but there was no way he could ask him what he'd been doing there. "Sam? I'm Dr. Waterson, but please, call me Trent. I'm sorry we had to meet like this…well… please don't take offense at this, but I'm sorry we had to meet at all. I must admit, I am a little uncomfortable at the moment considering the circumstances, but I just want you to know I'll take good care of your brother. Do you have any idea what happened?" His face was the epitome of compassion, and for some reason, Sam felt very at ease by his words.

"Not really. We..." Sam motioned to Bobby as he spoke, "I mean my uncle Bobby and I were taking care of something and we found him like that when we got back. He must have fallen out of bed somehow. He's been pretty sick and restless since he woke up yesterday, so I really couldn't tell you what happened, but I'd really like to know."

The good doctor extended a greeting hand to Bobby this time, the older hunter shaking it but not having the same reaction Sam did. He didn't like him, not one bit. There was something cold and calculating in the way he gripped the hunter's hand, and he immediately distrusted him. He could tell by Sam's body language he didn't feel the same way though, and decided he'd better just keep his mouth shut for now, somewhat regretting what he'd said earlier about the choice of doctor not making a difference. It was his turn to have the bad feeling, the really bad feeling.

"Well, you probably already know why I was called, so I'll just cut to the chase. We obviously need to do a little repair work, nothing too serious I suspect. Try not to worry too much, we'll bring him back to you in one piece."

"What do you mean, 'repair work'?" Sam, for some sick reason, wanted a little more elaboration, even on such a sensitive subject. He wasn't satisfied enough with what he'd heard, almost like he needed the added torture of detail to make his day complete.

Dr. Waterson could almost sense Sam's need to know every gory detail, so he decided to tell him. Being a sociopath did have it's advantages at times. "Your brother was catheterized while he was in a coma for obvious reasons. Normally the coupler attached to the bag would detach itself when pulled on so forcefully, but for some reason when your brother fell from the bed it held tight and the entire line was ripped out quite traumatically," he smiled inside when he visually saw Sam and Bobby both cringe at that comment and instinctually reached for their own manly areas as he continued his explanation. "It looks like there are some pretty severe lacerations to the entire urinary tract that are going to need attention, especially the bladder. I think there's a pretty good tear in it, but I won't know for sure until I get in there and look. We'll need to stitch everything up to prevent any more seepage into the abdomen which is what I suspect is causing the bad cramping," He was enjoying the look on both of their faces, especially Sam's when he saw it start to go pale, knowing it was starting to make him physically ill. He wanted to go on, but Sam cut him off to ask the question he thought would have an obvious answer.

"Seepage?"

"When something wants a way out, it finds the shortest path of least resistance to do so. The first place any accumulated fluids will go is out through that tear and straight into the body. It's pretty minor surgery Sam, so please don't be too overly concerned. We're just going to give him some sedation and an epidural, nothing too complicated and he'll probably only end up with a few stitches. I really don't want him totally under considering he's been comatose for the last five weeks up until yesterday. I'd really like to get started soon, so if you don't have any other questions, I'm going to go get ready and scrub up. He was pretty agitated when I saw him, said he needed to talk to you before he'd let us do anything, so I'd suggest you go see him now. The nurses should have already given him something to put him out, so I don't expect him to be with it too much longer."

"No, I think that about covers it," Sam told him, his face an odd shade of white and gray at the same time, making him look like he was going to be sick at any second.

Dr. Waterson turned and strolled down the hall towards the elevators with a little spring in his step and a broad smile across his face, the look he'd left both men with worth a million dollars in his book, especially Sam's. He hadn't met either one of them yet, only peeked in on Dean once or twice in the beginning when Sam had been gone, but now he was up close and very, very personal with the elder Winchester brother and knew he was going to have some fun with this situation. He'd initially been angry when they'd paged him, but now that he knew why they had, he was floating through the clouds and wondered exactly how to handle the whole situation. He'd wanted all along to finish the job, maybe this was his golden opportunity, like someone was giving him a sign.

Sam watched him go and followed right behind him, not to the elevator but to his brother's door and slowly stepped inside, not really sure how to react when he met him eye to eye. He approached the bed and thought he'd been saved when he saw his brother's eyes weren't open and actually turned to leave when he heard Dean speak up. Somehow Dean had heard his brother's footsteps on the floor and knew he was there. Damn it, he's good, even when he's wounded. Dean addressed Sam without even opening his eyes to confirm it was really him. He didn't need to, he already knew, but asked anyway.

"Sam, that you?" He said to his brother, the aching he felt coming out loud and clear in his voice.

The sound of Dean's pain filled tone wiped out any feelings of hesitation Sam may have had and he was at his side to hear what he had to say immediately.

"Hey, how do you feel," he couldn't help but ask. It was the first thing Sam always asked before he got the usual 'I'm fine'.

"I feel like the entire Dallas Cowboy Cheerleading squad took turns kicking me in the nuts Sammy. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy, even Yellow Eyes."

"That bad huh?Even Yellow Eyes?"

"Yeah, that bad." Sam really didn't need to ask the question to know it was true. He could hear it in his brother's voice, the way it faltered every few syllables; or see it in his face as he grimaced every now and then, trying to hide it but not doing a very good job; or see it in his body, the way he was still curled up in that tight little ball he'd gotten used to being in over the last two days. "Hell, if this is what it's like to be a woman, I'll definitely pass. Bleeding and cramps really sucks." Dean was trying to be funny, and failing miserably.

Sam changed subjects quickly, having more important things then dry humor on his mind. "What the hell happened after we left? You were sleeping like a baby, then you were bleeding like a stuck pig. What gives"

"I had to stop you Sam. I couldn't let you burn her. Now it looks like it didn't really matter. Guess I could have saved myself a lot of pain, huh?" Dean was starting to not make much sense now, and Sam knew he didn't have a lot of time left before he wasn't going to be able to talk to him anymore.

"Why couldn't you let us burn her? She's been putting you through hell the last two days, no, let me rephrase that. She's put you through hell for the last five weeks. Why Dean?"

"Because I needed to know more," he was starting to mumble now, and Sam knew it wouldn't be long now.

"Dean, you said you know everything, what is everything? Why didn't the salt and burn work? Why is she still tormenting you? What is going on?" Sam hoped he could get some more information out of his brother before he went totally down. He could see he was fading fast now that the drugs were starting to kick in again. In fact, he could see the light was almost out completely.

"Sam, she was murdered. She wasn't driving. He's a serial killer…write…down…Jennifer Thompson…Claire Talbot…victims too…look them up…" his voice trailed off more and more with each word now that his inability to resist yet more drugs he'd been fed took effect. He was almost out, totally out when he heard Sam say one last thing to him.

"Hey, you wanna hear something ironic? That doctor, the one that's going to fix you're…well...you know...he's Trish's brother. What are the odds of that. Don't worry though, he said he'd take good care of you, and I think I believe him. He must feel guilty for what she did to you."

Dean heard that loud and clear, forcing his eyes open as they filled with an almost panicked look that Sam wasn't quite sure how to interpret. Unfortunately for Dean, he wouldn't even get a chance. As his eyes went wide, the orderlies had come and started dragging him from the room, leaving Sam behind to wonder just what in the hell that look had been for. All Dean could think about as he was wheeled down the hall was that the bastard brother serial killer was going to be taking a knife to him in the next few minutes, and at his most cherished parts no less, and he was now more scared then he'd ever been in his entire life.