A/N: Thanks again guys for the support for this story – and a big thanks for those who take the time to review. I'll see you tomorrow with another chapter.
Chapter 34
Three hours earlier
Dean crouched down examining a mark in the mud, his eyes narrowing a bit as the sun crept over the horizon making his flashlight unnecessary now. He clicked off the light and stuck it in his jacket pocket before straightening and spinning in a slow circle, frowning as he saw the damaged foliage. Something large had been down here, of that he was sure.
He didn't like the looks of it either, for all he knew this could be the same harpy and if it was he was in deep shit now. By keeping Sam back at the cabin he had left him in a position where he couldn't get hurt, but it also left him out here without backup. The smart thing for him to do would be to head back to the cabin now.
The forest around him was silent, even the birds were quiet this morning. Dean glanced around once more before turning back towards the cabin, keeping one hand on the hilt of his machete as he walked. He wasn't in a hurry to meet up with this thing on his own.
The soft mud clung to his shoes, making his pace slow as heavy clumps of earth came away every time he lifted his foot. Dean grunted and reached for a low hanging branch. It snapped easily and Dean began scraping the heavy mud off his ruined boots.
A soft wind began to blow through the trees, making remaining water drops fall to the ground and splatter into the mini puddles that were scattered all over the forest floor. Dean tossed away his stick and began his trek back towards the cabin and hoped desperately that Jenni had the good sense to brew up some coffee, he could really use some right now.
He had only gone a hundred yards or so when he heard it, a strangled gasp from somewhere off to his right. Dean paused, staying rigid, as he strained to hear anything besides his own heavy breathing. He didn't have to wait long, the gasp sounded again, followed by a cry of pain.
Dean pulled the machete from it's place and started off in a jog, knowing someone was in trouble out here. He passed several large pine trees, most of them displaying large crimson stains. He hurried his pace, knowing if all the blood covering the local vegetation was coming from the person crying out he was in serious trouble and in desperate need of medical care.
As he rounded a particularly large pine Dean came to a halt. A small man, probably no taller than five feet, was curled up in a ball on the forest floor. His hands were pressed against his bloody abdomen and his eyes were scrunched tight as blood from four long scratches that covered his entire face dripped to the dirt below.
"Shit." Dean dropped the machete and crouched down before the man, grabbing hold of his shoulder and turning him a little. "Hey – hey, can you hear me?"
"God, make it stop – it hurts." The man moaned piteously.
Dean fumbled with his pockets and cursed when he realized that he didn't have his phone with him. He began to pull the man's bloodied hands away from his middle and his eyes widened in shock at the sight of the man's exposed vital organs. How the man had survived this long was beyond him – the man had practically been gutted.
Part of the large intestine was trailing out on the ground and was being coated in mud. Dean covered his mouth with the back of his hand and looked back up to the man's face. He was surprised to see the man had managed to open his eyes, although they looked a little glassy.
"Please – don't let me die." The man pleaded as he lifted a blood coated hand and gripped Dean's wrist.
"You'll be ok, just relax." Dean knew it was a lie, but it was what the man needed to hear. There was no possible way the guy could survive, even if help was on the way now, which it wasn't.
"Tell Dolly that – that Harry's sorry. She told me…" The man was cut off as a bout of nasty coughs plagued him, splatters of blood appeared on his lips and his glassy gray eyes closed briefly before opening with obvious strain to meet Dean's once more. "Told me not to go out – even if the fish do bite better at night."
The man, Harry, or so Dean assumed, continued to hold onto Dean's wrist in a tight grip as his body succumbed to it's injuries.
"Promise – you'll tell Dolly."
Dean nodded, unsure of how he was supposed to find this Dolly or explain as to how he came upon Harry's body.
"Tha – Thank you." Harry's gray eyes rolled back in his sockets and closed halfway as he released his last tortured breath. A few flies buzzed around the body, having smelled the blood no doubt, and were darting about trying to find the best place to land and make room for their maggots. A particularly large fly landed on Harry's half open eye and began to walk about, fluttering it's wings.
Dean grimaced and pulled his wrist loose from Harry's hand. He knew he should salt and burn the corpse – but he couldn't do that now. He knew that Harry hadn't done this to himself, and the familiar scratches covering Harry's face told Dean all he needed to know. This was indeed a harpy – and it was either the same one or the damn thing's mate. Either way Dean was in way over his head out here.
Scooping up his machete from where he had dropped it Dean began to back away from the bloody corpse keeping his senses on full alert. He was in no hurry to join Harry today – nor end up in Sam's situation and get a boot up his ass for his trouble.
He turned and began to jog through the dense trees, ignoring the mud as it clung to his boots. He heard an angry screech from somewhere behind him and picked up his pace – holding up his arms as low hanging branches reached out to scratch at his face.
Dean was only a few hundred yards from the clearing when his foot caught a root and he went tumbling. He hit the ground hard, his machete flew out of his grip and the belt to his sheath tore.
Dean cursed and pushed himself up on his elbows, trying to ignore the angry burst of pain coming from his ankle. He tested the joint turning it a bit and chewing on his lip as white hot pain flared in his leg. Not broken, but a sprain or badly twisted. Either way his situation went from bad to worse, there was no way he could run on the leg if he wanted to – and it was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment.
The angry screech once again came from somewhere behind him, making his blood freeze as he looked ahead to the machete several yards ahead of him. Determined not to be another snack for this damn thing Dean dug his fingers into the ground and dragged himself forward, inching towards the machete.
He knew it would only be a matter of minutes before that thing caught up with him, and his best bet would be to kill the damn thing or to at least injure it enough to get it to back off. Beads of perspiration trickled down his forehead, blurring his vision, he could almost touch the machete with his fingertips now. One more long pull and he'd have it.
He was never given the chance. At that moment the large bird like creature appeared – shrieking angrily and flapping it's large wings at him. She stretched out her long neck and opened her large beak, revealing her razor sharp teeth.
"Holy shit!" Dean reached out, his fingers barely touching the hilt of the machete before the large talons grabbed a hold of the back of his jacket and flung him into the closest tree.
Dean groaned and fell into crumpled heap as he hit the ground, burying his face on the back of his hands and gripping weakly at the mud. That is going to leave a mark.
The harpy snapped her beak a few times and glared down at him with strange golden eyes. Dean glanced up at her, trying not to agitate his now badly bruised back.
The harpy tilted her head slightly – her long straggly gray hair dangly down in tangled clumps. Dean wasn't sure what she was waiting for, but whatever she was doing he was sure wasn't a good thing.
The ground trembled a bit as the harpy lifted one foot and drove it back to the ground, sending the sharp talons a good couple feet into the ground. She dragged it back to her slowly and began to advance on him, walking slowly as if savoring this.
Dean groaned and searched for the machete – it was his only chance and he knew it. He could feel frustration build through him when he saw the sun's rays glinting off the silver blade clear on the other side of the small clearing. He was completely at this thing's mercy.
The harpy seemed to follow his gaze before screeching and grabbing hold of him once more and tossing him across the clearing into another tree. Dean's head banged against the unyielding wood and he once again fell in a limp heap. He could feel the blood oozing from the wound that had been torn in his temple and blinked away the stars that were dancing in his vision. He couldn't give in – not yet.
The harpy let out a soft growl and shot into the air, her large wings propelling her effortlessly. Dean coughed roughly and dug his fingers into the ground, holding on for dear life in case she decided to come down and carry him off.
He hurt – everywhere hurt, even his hair hurt. He rolled slowly to his side and opened his eyes searching for his attacker. She was no where in sight, but he could still hear the soft whooshing sounds of her wings as she circled from somewhere overhead.
He was going to die out here – the realization hit him hard and he cringed inwardly as he thought of his brother. This would destroy Sam. He knew Sam would come out here looking for him and if he was lucky he would get to say good bye to his gutted brother before Dean's time ran out.
No – get up and fight you wussy. Dean clenched his jaw and pushed himself up onto his elbow. Pain shot through him and he fell back to the ground, panting for air as his body protested the movement. Dean waited until he had his breathing under control, then tried again.
This time he managed to get to his knees. His brow was dripping sweat and his whole body was trembling with the effort, but he was up. He wiped the irritating trickle of blood out of his eye and scouted the sky once more. The harpy was still gliding around, biding her time as he gathered himself.
A flash of silver caught his eye and he grinned and reached over, easily picking up the machete. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the hilt and used a nearby tree to get to his feet. His knees trembled and threatened to give out but Dean ignored it and steadied his stance – the machete held up and ready.
As if sensing her prey's intentions the harpy swooped back down into the clearing and landed with an audible thump. She screeched at him, bits of saliva dripping from her sharp teeth and falling to the already muddy ground.
Dean didn't move from his position, he just stood poised and ready – his hard eyes meeting the harpy's. His fingers readjusted their position every few seconds as his palms grew sweaty.
The harpy spread her wings and flapped them at him, and let out a deafening roar. She studied him a moment longer before charging at him.
Trying to ignore the throbbing in his leg Dean charged forward to meet her, his ankle giving out on him a little. He swung the machete at the harpy as she lifted a foot to swipe her talons at him. He ducked, barely avoiding her sharp talons and felt metal connect with flesh.
The harpy shrieked as the sharp blade connected with her chest, hot blood spilled down her ugly black feathers. She hissed and swung another foot, this time the talons met their mark. They swiped down over Dean's chest.
Dean stumbled and fell to the ground, holding his torn and now bloody shirt in his hands. The slices weren't deep – he had been too close for the harpy to get a good swipe at him. Still, the scratches stung like hell and warm blood was making his shirt stick to his skin.
The harpy stretched out her neck and snapped at him with her beak. Dean rolled away from her, keeping the machete close. He rose to his feet once again and swung the machete around once, waiting for the beast to make her next move.
The harpy eyed her opponent warily – she seemed to realize that he wouldn't be as easy as her last victim had been. Dean wasn't sure if he was pleased with that or not. She was sizing him up, calculating how hard it would be to try and kill him. She had no intentions of letting him go – of that Dean was sure. She was this committed, she was willing to go all the way to get him.
She hissed and charged him, Dean ducked and rolled, bringing the machete up to connect once again with her chest. The harpy shrieked as the blade sliced through flesh and bone. She swung at him and Dean ducked and tried to get out of the way of the now enraged beast, the machete was stuck fast in her chest. He didn't see the other foot and sharp talons until they caught him.
He felt a fiery flash of pain in his right arm and leg and collapsed, trying to catch his breath. The harpy curled her neck and gripped the machete in her sharp teeth and yanked it out of her flesh, tossing it aside right next to its sheath.
Dean held a hand to his injured arm, trying to suppress some of the bleeding. He glared up as the harpy advanced on him, her golden eyes flashing dangerously. Dean waited, holding his breath, knowing that he had done his best to get back to Sam, but it didn't like he was going to succeed this time.
The harpy screeched, lunged forward and grabbed him by his uninjured left leg. Dean felt the strange sensation of flying before his head connected once more with an unyielding tree trunk and he knew no more, he didn't even feel his body hit the ground.
The harpy hissed angrily and shot off the ground, leaving a trail of bloody drops behind her as she went off to lick her wounds.
***
Present
Jenni darted in front of Sam as soon as the cabin came into view and had the door open before Sam had even started up the porch steps.
Sam grunted and shifted Dean's weight on his shoulders a little, gripping his brother's legs a little tighter as he started up the porch steps. He knew the blood was soaking through the makeshift bandages because they were starting to soak Sam's shirt.
"Take him to the living room, Sam. We're going to have to get him warmed up, he could go into shock. Who knows how long he was out there bleeding like this."
Sam gave her a slight nodded and headed to the living area, Jenni on his heels. He heard her stop in the bedroom and bathroom on her way but he didn't pause until he got to the living area. He studied the couch thoughtfully but then thought better of it. They wouldn't be able to work on Dean very well if he was on the couch, they would have to make him as comfortable as possible on the floor.
He deposited his brother before the smoldering fire and grabbed one of the throw pillows that had been tossed carelessly onto the floor and slid it under his brother's head. He gently peeled back each of Dean's eyelids, checking the pupils for reaction.
"Damn – he's got a concussion." Sam announced as Jenni hurried into the room and dumped an armful of towels, the first aid kit, and extra blankets from the bedroom next to the patient.
"I figured as much – the wound looks deep. He'll be lucky if he got away without a cracked skull." Jenni began to unwind the bloody tatters of shirt and tossed them in the fireplace. "Sam get a fire going will ya? We need to get this room heated up as quickly as possible."
Sam nodded and busied himself with the dead logs as Jenni began to clean out Dean's wounds.
Jenni pursed her lips as she took a cotton swab and some peroxide and began to dab at the small head injury first, pushing the wound open a bit to see how deep it went, or if any debris had managed to get inside. The wound looked fairly clean and the bleeding had finally ceased. Jenni pulled the suture kit from the first aid kit anyway as well as a pair of latex gloves.
"Is it deep enough to need stitches?" Sam asked settling himself on his knees at Dean's side. He frowned at the small wound on Dean's head.
Jenni chewed on her lip thoughtfully and prodded the wound with a couple fingers. "I think it will be ok – dig me out some butterfly bandages, Sam."
Sam did as he was told and Jenni bandaged up the gash before moving onto Dean's right arm. She shook her head as the blood continued to ooze out of the wound. "All the blood is making it impossible to see the extent of the damage – we need to clean it up."
Not needing further instructions, Sam disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a large bowl of water. He and Jenni each grabbed a towel and wetted the material and began to clean up the bloody wounds. Sam taking the leg while Jenni worked on the arm.
"Sam, this is seriously deep." Jenni said concerned as she saw the extent of the damage caused by the harpy's claw. "I don't know if I should fix this here. He needs to be in a hospital."
"I'm pretty sure his leg is in worse shape than his arm – have a look."
Jenni pressed a clean towel to Dean's arm to stem the blood flow, and leaned over to look at his leg. She gasped as she saw the torn muscles that were almost an inch deep. "Shit, Sam."
"I know." Sam muttered and looked up to stare at his brother's pale still face. "Why the hell did he go after this thing on his own?"
"Let's not worry about that now, let's just worry about getting him patched up."
Sam stared down at his brother's leg and blinked furiously at the blurry image. "Jenni, I don't know if I should do any stitching."
Jenni looked at him, her eyes studying the distressed young man carefully before finally nodding. "Ok, Sam. You need to make sure he keeps still though – because I can guarantee that he will feel these stitches. It looks like we will have to do more than basic stitching – I will have to sew some of those muscles back together, and they are going to hurt like a bitch."
"Do you have the stuff to do that here?"
Jenni smirked and pointed to her well stocked first aid kit. "I even have the dissolving stitches, that way we won't have to worry about pulling them out later."
Sam nodded and situated himself next to Dean's head, putting both his hands on Dean's shoulders, steadying him, just in case.
Knowing that the leg would be the most painful, and the most likely to bring Dean around Jenni left it for last and started on his arm. The gash was long, starting at his elbow and traveling halfway down his wrist. It wasn't as deep as the leg wound was and she knew that if had been then Dean would have been dead before they had found them. Vertical wounds on the arm were deadly serious and could cause someone to bleed out fairly quickly.
Jenni was efficient at stitching and had finished Dean's arm in to time at all. She applied some clear ointment over the seventeen required stitches and held out a hand to Sam. He handed her a roll of gauze and she expertly bandaged up Dean's arm.
"We'll need to put that in a sling when he wakes." Jenni said tiredly as she turned to the deep leg wound. "This is the one we need to be worried about, Sam. I can promise you that he isn't going to like it when I start pulling his muscles together again."
Sam swallowed hard and tightened his hold on his brother. "Isn't there anything you can give him? For the pain I mean?"
"Normally he'd be in a hospital right now where they have the right equipment to care for him properly. We don't have that here and I'm afraid if we give him anything it will be more than his shocked system can handle."
Sam blinked hard against the tears that were burning his eyes. He hated the fact that he was going to be putting his brother through unnecessary pain – but he knew that Dean would not have had it any other way. He braced himself and nodded to Jenni.
Jenni leaned forward and began to work on the leg wound, Sam watched as beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. They trickled down around her eyes and down her cheeks, melting against her tan skin.
Jenni had only finished a couple of the stitches when Dean flinched and moaned. Sam tightened his hold on his brother's shoulders and Jenni grabbed a hold of Dean's leg to stop him from jerking it away from her. "Sam – hold him!"
Sam pressed firmly against his brother's shoulders but Dean was too far out of it and jerked again at the sharp pull in his thigh.
"He's going to tear these stitches out – damn it!" Jenni put a knee on top of Dean's lower leg, pinning it to the floor. She turned to Sam, her eyes desperate. "Sam, try talking to him. Get him to calm down, or we'll never get him closed up."
Sam nodded and looked down at his brother's pale sweaty face. He lifted a hand and pressed it against his brother's forehead. "Dean – Dean, can you hear me?"
Glazed jade eyes slowly opened and darted back and forth in his sockets. Dean poked his tongue between his dry lips and swallowed hard.
"Dean?"
"Shit." Dean whispered and tried to pull away from the pain coming from his right leg.
"No, no – Dean, listen to me. Don't move, we need to stitch you up."
"Holy shit – Sam." Dean moaned and jerked before letting out a sharp gasp. He closed his eyes tightly and balled his hands into fists.
"Dean – Dean, I need you to listen to me."
Dean clenched his jaw in response.
Sam looked desperately at Jenni who urged him on.
"Dean, you need to keep still. You're hurt."
"No shit, Sam."
"We need to patch you up. Can you hold still for us?"
"Freakin' hurts."
"I know it does, Dean. I promise it won't last long."
"Shoot me."
"Don't be stupid, Dean, I'm not going to shoot you."
Dean groaned and hit his fists against the floor. His neck arched and his mouth opened to let out a strangled groan.
"Dean, just relax." Sam kept his hand on his brother's forehead and nodded at Jenni to continue stitching.
"You relax."
"Dean, you're making this harder than it has to be." Jenni grumbled as she poked the needle through the tender leg muscles.
Dean flinched and tried to pull away, only to be held down by Jenni's strong grip. "Freakin' butcher."
Jenni lifted an eyebrow at Dean, surprise at the insult. "Your welcome." She returned to her task.
Dean moaned and thumped his head against the soft pillow, but found it didn't distract him from the painful pull in his leg. He looked up to see Sam's face tight and pale and kicked himself for putting that look on his brother's face.
He hissed as the pull started again and pushed against his brother's hold on his shoulders. Sam held on tightly, refusing to let up on his brother.
"Jenni?"
"I'm not even halfway done down here, Sam. His moving around isn't helping any."
"Dean – hey, Dean." Sam waited for Dean's eyes to focus on him and offered his brother a tentative smile. "Do you remember back when I was ten and I tried to follow Dad out on one of his hunts?"
Dean closed his eyes and swallowed slowly, concentrating on his brother's soft voice and breathing deeply through his nose as the gentle tugging continued in his leg. His stomach churned uncomfortably and he felt a sudden wave of nausea hit him. He swallowed again and clenched his jaw tightly, trying to keep the bile down.
"You were so pissed when you found out that I was missing – scared you and Bobby out of your minds. I didn't make it that far – you guys found me at the bus stop."
Dean squeezed his eyes tighter and dug his fingernails into his palms.
"Sam, is he ok? He looks a little green."
Jenni's voice sounded as if it were at the end of a long tunnel and he was heading away from it.
"Dean?" Sam sounded worried and his voice too echoed. How strange.
"Sam –"
Dean tried to listen but was finding it hard to concentrate on the voices. He felt like he was underwater, making the voices muffled and distorted.
"-his pulse?"
"Fast – too fast."
Dean decided he liked it here – the pain in his arm was gone, along with the agonizing pain in his leg and the sharp pounding of his head. It was peaceful here.
"-your eyes, Dean."
I'm sleeping, Sam. Talk to me later. Dean allowed himself to sink deeper, letting the darkness wash over him.
"- shock."
"Dean?"
Not now, Sam. Can't you see how tired I am?
"Dean – do this."
What was that Sam?
"Please – open your eyes."
Dean felt a sharp pain spike in his leg and dug his fingers into the wooden floor. My eyes are closed? Huh, I don't remember closing them.
"Dean – please."
Oh God, Sammy. Do you always have to talk? We'll talk later.
"Dean, please open your eyes. Open your eyes! Dean, don't you do this to me damn it!"
What's the matter, Sam? What happened? Are you ok?
Sam watched as Dean struggled to open his eyelids again – it took several minutes but Dean finally succeeded. His green eyes were glazed over in pain and they seemed to dart around for a minute before finally settling on Sam's face.
"Sammy?" Dean croaked his throat extremely dry.
"I'm right here, Dean. Just stay with us ok?" Sam took a damp towel and began to moisten his brother's dry lips.
Dean licked at what little moisture he was given greedily and blinked up at his brother. "Not – not going anywhere, Sammy."
"Damn straight, big brother. I'll hold you to that."
"Done." Jenni announced as she finished off the final stitch and began to wipe the clear ointment on it before wrapping it up with gauze.
"Thank you God." Dean whispered hoarsely.
Jenni smirked. "My name's Jenni, but you can call me anything you want."
Dean rolled his eyes to look at his brother – surprised to see Sam's shoulders trembling a bit and his head shaking as he tried to suppress his laughter.
"We need to get his chest bandaged, Sam. Can you sit him up?"
"No." Dean moaned as Sam slipped his hands under Dean's shoulders.
"Don't worry, Dean. I'll be right here." Sam said softly as he gently eased Dean up into a slouched sit. Dean's head rested against Sam's collar bone, his neck limp and unable to hold his head's weight. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as Jenni approached with a pair of scissors.
"We'll have to cut the shirt off – hope you aren't too attached to it."
Dean swallowed and eyed the scissors nervously. "Jacket – where's my jacket."
"Easy, Dean. We took it off you before we started cleaning you up. It has a tear in one of the arms but it will be ok."
Dean relaxed and Jenni began to cut through the stiff blood dried shirt. She eased it off his shoulders and Dean's head turned slightly from the gentle movement of his body. He rested his forehead against the side of Sam's neck and scrunched his eyes, breathing through the worst part of the pain.
Jenni looked at Sam anxiously but he nodded for her to continue. She gently cleaned the wounds and wrapped his ribs with gauze. Dean didn't move once through the whole thing – and didn't push away when Jenni was done.
"Sam?" Jenni asked pulling off her gloves and tossing them in the fireplace where they were quickly engulfed.
"I think he passed out."
"About time – stubborn bastard." Jenni began to pack up the first aid materials and other supplies used for their emergency patch up job. "It wouldn't have been half as painful for him if he had stayed unconscious – anyone else would have had the sense to."
Sam eased his brother back to the floor and helped cover him with the blankets Jenni had brought in from the bedroom. "Dean was never one to do things the easy way."
Jenni shook her head and stood – gathering the soiled towels and the first aid kit. "I didn't think he was."
Sam gave her a sad smile as she disappeared down the hall before looking back down at his brother. Dean's skin was deadly pale and with the exceptions of the dark shadows under his eyes and Sam was sure that the skin surrounding the gash on Dean's forehead was an angry red color. Not that he could see it – but he had dealt with enough of Dean's injuries to know what to expect. "Just can't seem to catch a break can you, Dean?"
Dean's soft breathing was the only response he got.
Jenni blew on her hot coffee as she exited the kitchen, sipping at the strong brew while handing a mug over to Sam as well. It had been several hours since they had brought Dean back and patched him up and the only change in him had been his position.
Deciding that it would be more comfortable for him on the couch Jenni and Sam had gently lifted the injured man onto the soft cushions and tucked several blankets around him. Sam had brought a chair in from the kitchen and kept a constant vigil at his brother's side – either staring at him or staring blankly at the dancing flames in the fireplace.
Jenni set her mug down on the floor and pressed a couple fingers to Dean's neck and counted the steady thrumming of his heart while watching the hands move on her watch. A frown lined her face as she looked up at Sam.
"It's no good, Sam. He needs blood – his blood pressure is still too high. His heart is working in overdrive to try to compensate for the blood it has lost."
Sam frowned as he looked down at his brother his eyebrows meeting in the middle of his forehead. "Isn't there anything we can do for him here?"
"I don't think so – it's too risky. Blood clots too quickly once it's outside the body – if we inject him with unprocessed blood it could kill him. That's why blood transfusions are best left to do at the hospital. The processing procedure adds a few things to stop it from coagulating when it is given to the recipient."
"So what can we do?"
"He really needs to be in a hospital, Sam, where he can be properly cared for. I might have a medical degree but there is only so much I can do for him here."
"What would you need from the hospital."
"A few bags of blood, an IV with antibiotics and fluids to stop him from getting an infection, and painkillers. He's not going to be happy when he wakes up and feels those stitches – and trust me he will feel those stitches. It is going to be almost impossible for him to move for the next few days."
"Is there a town close by that is large enough to have a hospital?"
"Little Rock isn't too far from here."
"Did you want me to go or did you want to go?"
"What?" Jenni looked up at Sam her eyes wide with disbelief. She frowned when she realized what must be going through his head. "Sam, we aren't stealing from a hospital."
"We've done it before." Sam gestured to his brother.
"Why does that not surprise me?"
Sam frowned at her. "You said it yourself that Dean needs more than what we can give him here."
"I know but…"
"Didn't you also say that we might have to go steal some things from the closest hospital earlier?"
"Sam, this is too risky."
"I'll do it – you can wait in the car."
"Sam, no."
"Fine, you stay here and keep and eye on Dean. Just give me a list of the antibiotics and fluids you want him on."
"Sam."
"Jenni, my brother is dying here! I'm not going to sit around and watch him wither away! Now you are either going to help me on this or I'm doing it on my own. Either way I can't just sit by and do nothing anymore."
Jenni nodded. "Ok, Sam. We do this together."
"Good – what do you want me to do?"
"You need to stay here and keep an eye on your brother." Jenni snatched the faded leather jacket from the lounge chair and dug around in the pockets until she found the keys to the impala. She palmed them and dropped the jacket back on the chair again as she turned to face Sam.
"Jenni, I don't think you should do this on your own."
"Sam, I can work my way around a hospital. I've been doing it for a few years now."
"Yeah, but you haven't been on the FBI's most wanted list for a few years."
"Neither have you, Sam."
"No, but Dean and I have more experience in dealing with these things."
"So what do you propose we do, Sam?"
Sam frowned and turned to stare at his brother's pale unconscious face.
Dean stirred slightly on the couch, his body shifting the blanket a little. Sam quietly reached over and pulled the blanket over his brother's shoulders again. "What about a transfer? Hospitals transfer medical supplies to clinics that need them don't they?"
"Sam, to even begin to pull that off we'd need the forms – which we don't have and a doctor's signature."
"Where do you get the forms?"
"From the clinics or hospitals themselves."
"Could we make one – I mean do you know what they look like?"
"Of course – why does that make a difference?"
Sam rose to his feet and hurried down the hall, returning a moment later with his laptop. He powered it up and began working furiously over the keyboard.
Curiosity getting the best of her Jenni walked around and leaned over Sam's shoulder – her eyes widening as she saw the program and document Sam had created.
"Does it look like this?" Sam asked indicating the blank boxes that would need to be correctly labeled.
"Make this box a bit skinnier." Jenni indicated and Sam did as she instructed. "Add another box in there – but we don't need this box down here."
Sam computed the form as Jenni directed and when she was satisfied he handed the laptop over. "You'll need to fill in the boxes."
Jenni dutifully labeled each blank box and added the needed items in the correct spot. Sam helped her by putting in Dean's blood type, and soon the form was completely filled out with the exception of the box indicating the required doctor's signature.
"What are we going to do about the signature, Sam?"
Sam pondered carefully for a minute before his soft hazel eyes sparked and he took the computer back, leaning closer to the screen so he could see the small words a bit better. A moment later he turned the screen to Jenni, who dropped her jaw in shocked surprise.
There was a signature in the box – and it was as close to a hand signed signature as they could possibly get.
"Sam, how in the world?"
"A few tricks I picked up from Dean during high school." Sam's eyes trailed back to his brother and lingered there.
Jenni didn't bother pressing for details. "We have wireless Internet here, I think we do anyway, but we could e-mail this to them. There is a medical center in Little Rock – the UAMS Medical Center. It's fairly close."
"Do you think they would go for it?"
"It's the best shot we got – here let me see the computer."
Sam handed it over and Jenni worked quickly in getting the document loaded and sent to the local hospital.
"There – that should do it. They should have our supplies ready before I even get there."
"Just be careful, Jenni."
"Don't worry about me, Sam. Just take care of your brother – and if anything changes call me."
Sam nodded and watched as Jenni shouldered her purse and hurried out of the small cabin, closing the door quietly behind her.
A moment later the impala's engine growled to life and Sam waited, alert, until the sounds of the impala disappeared.
***
The minutes passed slowly for Sam. He alternated between sitting in the hard wooden chair next to the couch to pacing the length of the living area with his hands clasped behind his back. He couldn't help but feel jittery about this, it just felt wrong to send Jenni out to do something like this on her own with no form of back up whatsoever.
Dean had remained deadly pale and uncharacteristically quiet – something that had Sam clinging to his hair in frustrated desperation. Dean was never quiet, he was never still. Dean was action – Dean had to be doing something at all times. Sam rarely saw his brother just sit down to relax, even when watching TV Dean usually had his hands wrapped around a bottle of beer or tossing some sort of salty snack into his mouth. When discussing a case Dean usually sat on one motel bed with their scattered array of weapons dumped on the other while Sam sat at the table with his laptop.
Sam never really noticed it before, it had just been something Dean had always done. Sam missed that now – if Dean were awake he would no doubt be giving Sam hell for worrying over something that either brother could do with ease when neither of them were injured, but now neither of them were in any shape to do much of anything.
Sam paused in his pacing to check on his brother, laying a gentle hand on his brother's warm forehead. Dean didn't stir as flesh met flesh. Sam frowned and placed a fresh compress upon Dean's brow, hoping to bring the slight fever down before it elevated to a degree that would make it difficult to combat.
Dean protested the cool moist towel and Sam nodded before picking up his pacing once again. He had to keep Dean with him, keep him fighting. A couple of times Sam had tried to wake him, needing to keep a close eye on his concussion. Dean grumbled every time Sam shook him and would open one eye halfway and mumbled the answers to Sam's provided questions before drifting again. Sam wasn't sure if it was because of the concussion he had or because his body was unwilling to face the agony it was bound to be in.
Either way made Sam anxious, the fact that he was stuck here and unable to do anything to help aid his brother in any way made him feel worthless. If the situation had been reversed and he had been the one out cold on the couch he was sure that Dean would have been doing something more constructive than wearing a hole in the living room rug.
Dean always seemed to keep his head in a time of crisis. At any age Dean had always been in control of any emotion riding through him no matter what the situation. Sam had seen Dean angry plenty of times, and worried too of course, but Dean was never one for full blown out panic. He managed to suppress those feelings in order to keep Sam calm.
Sam couldn't count the number of times that John had come back to them broken and bloodied. He had watched Dean help John struggle into the room on several occasions, never faltering as John staggered and weaved about. Dean would take John to the bathroom or bedroom and shut the door behind him, keeping Sam out while he patched up their injured father.
The memories of those long nights were not something Sam liked to remember. He could recall sitting at the rickety old motel tables, his knees drawn up to his chest and his hands covering his ears as his father's barely suppressed moans and curses escaped from behind the closed door.
After what seemed like hours Dean would finally emerge clad in fresh clothes and looking very tired. He carefully hid the worried lines that had creased his forehead as soon as he caught sight of Sam at the table, instead he put all his energy into calming his distressed brother, reassuring him that Dad was just tired and would need to sleep for a couple days.
The brothers would stay in the kitchen until Sam calmed down enough for them to go to bed. Dean would always keep between Sam and John, not wanting Sam to see their father lying so still and pale on the spare motel bed. Sam had never argued against this, always trusting Dean blindly until he had hit fourteen and realized that Dean wasn't a superhero. He had still looked up to his brother - hell, he still did that now, but he had learned that big brother didn't always have the answers and sometimes Dean wasn't always right.
Dean had always said that Sam hit the stubborn age at fourteen, always questioning everything they did and fighting against everything John ordered them to do. It infuriated John that Sam would set his jaw and dig in his heels, refusing to follow obediently as Dean always had.
Sam paused his pacing to look back down at his brother, frowning as he saw droplets of water slipping from the cloth and trickling to the couch cushions below. He settled himself on the edge of the couch cushion and pulled away the compress, and laid the back of his hand against Dean's brow. Although damp and clammy thanks to the compress, his skin was still too warm to the touch.
He walked down the hall to the bathroom and grabbed a fresh washcloth. He moistened it under the cool water and hurried back to his brother, laying the cool cloth against Dean's brow. Dean flinched and moaned as the cool material touched his hot skin.
Sam settled himself onto the kitchen chair, sitting just on the edge so his knees touched the edge of the couch. He watched as Dean battled his personal demons in delusional nightmares. Dean's head twisted violently on the throw pillow it was resting on, his eyebrows narrowing in distress.
"Dad – Dad…"
Sam felt a jolt as Dean cried out for John. Being injured and delusional with fever had let Dean's walls down and all Dean's pains and fears were displayed for anyone in the immediate proximity. Suddenly Sam was glad that Jenni had been the one to go get the medical supplies. He didn't like the idea of the young nurse sitting in on Dean's delusional nightmares while Dean was powerless to stop them. It was bad enough that he was bearing witness to them.
Dean jerked again on the couch, dislodging the carefully placed blanket that had been covering him. Sam shot into motion, instantly beside his brother and placing a steadying hand on his brother's shoulder while tugging the blanket over Dean's torso once more.
"Easy – take it easy, Dean. It's ok."
Glassy jade eyes peeled apart and focused on him wearily. Sam could see the effects of the fever taking hold of his brother with a single look. Dean's eyes moved sluggishly, carefully looking over Sam's face before settling on his eyes.
"Dad."
"Shh, just take it easy, Dean. Don't try to talk."
"Dad, I'm sorry – I'm sorry that I couldn't do it."
Sam's forehead crinkled in confusion. "Couldn't do what, Dean?"
"Protect him – couldn't protect Sammy, Dad. I'm sorry."
Sam swallowed hard at that and had to fight at the angry tears that burned his eyes. "Dean, you don't need to protect Sam." Sam knew it was wrong to take advantage of Dean right now, obviously Dean had no idea that he was really talking to Sam, but rather thought he was speaking to John.
"Course I do – it's my job." Dean closed his eyes and licked at his dry cracked lips. Sam pressed a cool moist towel against his brother's parched mouth and leaned forward, trying hard to keep his voice steady.
"Dean, your brother can look out for himself."
Dean shook his head weakly, pulling way from what little moisture the towel was providing. Small water droplets glistened in the firelight as they trickled down the sides of Dean's jaw. "No – made me promise."
"Promise what, Dean?"
"Made me promise." Dean repeated his eyes drifting to half-mast as weariness took hold.
"Dean?"
"I promised I'd take care of him – look out for him."
Sam dug his teeth into his bottom lip, frowning as Dean babbled incoherently for another minute or so before he drifted into oblivion again.
He reached forward and pressed a couple fingers to his brother's neck, feeling his stomach twist with anxiety as he felt the fast thready beating of Dean's heart. He glanced up at the door – wondering where the hell Jenni was. He hoped that her mission to get medical supplies wouldn't take her too long. He was unsure of how long the trip to Little Rock itself would take, and if she was questioned, or stopped along the way it would take her that much longer.
Sam studied his brother's still form for a moment and worried his lip as he watched Dean's still form. He glanced again in the direction of the front door – he hoped that Jenni came back soon. If she wasn't back soon – Sam hated to even think it but couldn't help but feel that Dean would be beyond any help they were capable of.
"Hurry, Jenni." Sam said quietly as he resumed his unconstructive pacing across the room.
***
Jenni tucked a loose strand of hair back into the tight knot on the back of her head and studied her clothes in front of the mirror, frowning a bit and pulling her jacket tighter over her blood stained shirt. She wasn't in a hurry to alarm anyone here at the clinic and someone covered in blood like she was would surely raise suspicions and awkward questions.
She buttoned up her denim jacket efficiently hiding all but one of the bloody spots on her shirt that was too high to be hidden, but it was small enough that it wouldn't draw too much attention. Satisfied she left the small bathroom and headed down the hall to the nurses' station. She felt her heart thundering in her chest as she neared the station and the white haired nurse who sat there.
The nurse looked up at her skeptically, her eyebrows rising and her lips pursing in annoyance as Jenni approached. Her emerald eyes were dull and red rimmed with dark purple bags lingering just above her protruding cheekbones.
"Do you have an appointment?" The nurse in a tone that clearly indicated that she'd rather be doing anything else but talking to Jenni.
Jenni smiled at her anyway and nodded. "Yes, I'm here to pick up some supplies. We sent an e-mail about forty minutes ago."
The elderly nurse lifted one eyebrow and turned to her computer, clicking a few things before bringing up the e-mail that Jenni had sent. She leaned closer to the screen as if scouring for forgery. Jenni held her breath, the document that Sam had made was duplicated almost perfectly, but a well-trained eye would be able to see the difference.
After a moment the older nurse leaned back and nodded. "Dr. Jackson needs these things does he?"
"Yes, we had an accident and the patient is in no condition for travel – we're doing all we can for him, but our supplies are limited."
"I need to know the condition of the patient and what happened before I can give these to you." The nurse took out a blank file and tapped it against the patient's name line. "Can I get the name of the patient?"
"Jack Winfield." Jenni was surprised she was able to come up with something on the spot, but she knew it would be stupid to use the names that Sam and Dean had used before they had been caught by the FBI, surely the police would be keeping an eye out for those names at any hospital or clinic.
"Uh huh, and what happened?"
"We're not sure exactly – he was brought in by his cousin with a severe head wound, slashes across the chest, and deep wounds to both the right arm and leg. As far as we can tell it was a wild animal attack on a couple of hikers."
"How much blood has he lost?"
"He had lost quite a bit before he had been brought in and was still bleeding before we managed to close him up."
"I'm assuming high blood pressure is a result of the blood loss?"
"Yes."
"Ok, I'll be right back." The woman rose slowly and walked slowly out of the station, favoring her left leg and holding a hand to her hip.
Jenni let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She had expected a few questions, the nurse would have been sloppy if she had just handed over the supplies without getting some sort of information from her first.
She looked around the small almost deserted waiting room. An old man with a beard that touched the middle of his chest was leaning over and mumbling to himself while playing with his fingernails, and a mother was trying to quiet her complaining child with no success.
"Excuse me, miss?"
Jenni turned back to the nurses' station expecting to see the white haired nurse but was taken aback when she encountered a tall man standing in a lab coat with a package in his hands. He smiled at her, his brown hair combed back neatly into small spikes and his soft brown eyes sparkling a bit in the dull hospital lights. Jenni couldn't remember how to breathe for a moment, but when she did she found it almost painful.
"You were here for the supplies right?"
Jenni nodded and held out her arms for the package.
"I'm Dr. Burken, call if you need anything else."
"I uh, thank you." Jenni felt heat rise in her cheeks as she studied the handsome face of the young doctor.
"It's no problem." Dr. Burken gave her a crooked grin that spread to his eyes as Jenni continued to gape at him.
"I should, uh, probably get going." Jenni said shaking her head as though to clear it and backed away a few steps before turning and walking back to the front doors. She felt the handsome doctor's eyes on her back as she left the clinic.
Once out in the cool autumn air she found her head clearing and hurried her steps, knowing that she had to get back to Sam and Dean as quickly as possible. She knew that if Sam was anything like his brother he would be going stir crazy having to sit there and being unable to help his brother.
The impala's door creaked as she opened it and sank down behind the wheel. She slipped the key into the ignition as she shut the door once more and started up the engine. She smiled as the impala's engine grumbled to life and growled softly while it idled. She rubbed her hands lovingly over the steering wheel, she could easily see why Dean loved the classic, she was a beauty. Even better than her mustang and she loved that car beyond all reason.
Glancing at her watch, she swore silently, yanked the impala into gear and gunned the engine – shooting the classic forward in a deafening roar.
***
He felt stiff and heavy, his limbs felt oddly disconnected from his body, and every move was sluggish. There was no agonizing pain as there had been the last time he had been awake and aware and for that he was grateful. He tried to move but found it almost impossible, he couldn't even open his mouth to protest as his jaw seemed to be locked and his mouth was full of cotton. He let out a soft irritated grunt and heard someone next to him stir.
"Dean?" Sam's voice was hoarse and sounded exhausted.
Dean struggled to open his eyelids, feeling as though a ten-pound weight was sitting on each one. It took quite a bit of effort but eventually his lids pulled apart and he was able to see the vague outline of his brother leaning over the edge of the couch, his eyes blazing with concern. He grunted again and strained to move his body, the tendons in his neck popping out hideously as his body remained unresponsive. He panicked and felt his breathing pick up as Sam's hands clamped down on his uninjured left arm.
"Dean, Dean – don't you'll hurt yourself. Just relax." Sam lifted one hand and pressed it against his brother's forehead, keeping Dean's head pinned to the soft pillows he had been resting on.
Wide blown panicked eyes darted over to him and Sam felt his stomach clench at the unsuppressed fear that Dean was displaying.
"Dean, you're drugged out of your gourd here. You're on antibiotics and painkillers you were torn up pretty good in the woods – you remember that?"
Dean's eyes began to dart around the room, his panic was the verge of causing him to hyperventilate.
"Dean, look at me – Dean!"
Dean slowly met his brother's gaze once more, his neck straining once more as he tried to move his body – or at least open his mouth to voice his protests.
"Dean, if you don't calm down Jenni is going to kick me out – you need to breathe. Can you do that for me? Breathe deep, Dean, like this." Sam demonstrated an exaggerated breath and watched while Dean tried to mimic the move. "That's it, Dean, now another one. That's it."
Dean grunted and managed to part his dry lips, letting extra oxygen pass over his dry tongue.
"Don't try to talk just yet, Dean. Just take it easy – you've been through hell today."
Dean wasn't going to argue with that, he felt like he had been through hell after facing the harpy. He closed his eyes and scrunched them tightly for a few minutes while focusing on his breathing. He could feel Sam's eyes on him and worked on suppressing the panic that had risen when he had found that he hadn't been able to move at all.
When he opened his eyes again he was in much better control of himself, Sam seemed to notice this and gave his brother a slight frown, but released his hold on his brother's forehead. He kept his hold on his brother's arm, however, and Dean was grateful for it. Although he would never admit that out loud.
"You are one stubborn bastard you know that, Dean?" Sam's anger was so sudden and had bubbled out of him so quickly that Dean's eyes widened in surprise.
"Don't you give me that look, Dean. What the hell were you thinking? Going after that hell bitch on your own?" Sam glared down at his brother, knowing he was taking advantage of the situation, since Dean couldn't defend himself at the moment.
Dean looked at him with knowing eyes, he was too tired to offer more than a simple look. Even the occasional grunts he had managed to squeeze out were requiring too much energy from him. Instead he just laid there and let Sam vent, knowing that Sam needed to get it out of his system, they could discuss it more thoroughly when Dean wasn't so numb.
"You could have been killed out there, Dean! You are such a selfish bastard – you think this is going to bring Dad back? Getting yourself killed? What the hell would I have done if I hadn't - ?" Sam's eyes watered and he closed his eyes briefly and dropped his head, his shoulders trembling a bit as he tried to get a hold of himself.
Dean watched him as he tried to get control of himself once more. By the time Sam had managed to suppress most of his emotions Dean was finding himself drifting on the verge of blackness again as the drugs continued to pump through his system.
"Get some rest, Dean. We'll talk later." Sam said softly as he watched Dean's eyelids begin to droop even further down.
Dean didn't need any further instructions and found himself once again bobbing along in the dark confines of his mind.
***
Sam relaxed when he saw his brother drift off once again. He ran a hand through his messy mop of hair and sat back on the kitchen chair. His eyes drifted from his brother's pale face to the IV lines that were trailing from his brother's left arm and eventually led to the floor lamp they were wound around.
The blood bag would need to be changed soon, but the antibiotic bag seemed satisfactory and would hold out for a while. Sam leaned forward and grabbed the plastic tubing, feeling it the way Jenni had showed him to test for air bubbles or clots that would be hazardous to Dean or would stop the flow.
He found nothing to be worried about and decided that a fresh cup of coffee would do him some good. He gave his brother a semi hesitant glance before turning to the kitchen. He automatically trailed his hand against any guiding walls, although he was getting more adjusted to his glasses and only had trouble seeing items that were far away.
The kitchen window was open and the sound of crickets chirping right outside the back door greeted him as he flipped on the light switch automatically. He headed for the kitchen sink and coffee maker.
He was reaching for the coffee grinds in the cabinet when the creak of a floorboard told him he was no longer alone. He paused and looked over his shoulder to see who his visitor was. He squinted as he tried to make out the fuzzy outline leaning casually against the doorframe.
"Sam, you ready for a break yet?" Jenni's soft voice was still laced with sleep.
Sam shook his head and returned to pulling the coffee grinds from the cabinet. He knew that Jenni was concerned as he hadn't moved from Dean's side for most of the day. He had only asked for a couple of bathroom breaks and had made Jenni promise to be with Dean while he was gone, which she did, but once he was back he resumed his constant vigil over his brother.
Jenni only came in to check on the bags that she had attached to Dean almost immediately upon her arrival earlier that evening. She would check Dean's pulse and nod in satisfaction before winking at Sam and leaving him alone again. She seemed to know that he wanted to be alone with Dean, and for that he was grateful. He didn't ask what she was doing all alone in the bedroom, and she didn't offer any information.
The corner of Sam's mouth twisted in a slight smirk. Jenni reminded him a lot of Dean, it was almost like having two Deans for roommates. Although Jenni wasn't nearly as protective of him as Dean was. That was something Sam was grateful for, he didn't think he'd be able to live with an overprotective brother as well as an overprotective nurse. Dean was bad enough at times.
"Sam," Sam felt a soft hand on his shoulder and turned to look at Jenni, setting the coffee grinds on the countertop. "You need to get some rest."
"I'm fine, Jenni." Sam insisted and wrinkled his brow as he tried to remember where the filters for the coffee machine were. Jenni handed him one wordlessly and he proceeded to fill it with some of the coffee grinds, only spilling a half a scoop onto the countertop.
Jenni wiped the spilled grinds into her hand and tossed them into the sink as Sam proceeded to start the coffee maker.
"Sam, you aren't doing Dean any favors by wearing yourself out. You're exhausted."
"He's going to need his blood bag changed soon." Sam said avoiding the topic.
"I'll make sure it's taken care of. Seriously, Sam, don't you think you should try to get a little bit of sleep? Dean is going to need a lot of help over the next couple of days and you'll need your strength in order to do that. I don't think he'd really appreciate me helping him to the bathroom or showering."
Sam let out a dry chuckle. "He won't like it any better if I do it."
"Maybe not," Jenni pursed her lips as she thought about it. "But he's going to have to rely on you, Sam."
Sam shook his head and dipped his chin slightly. "Why'd he do it, Jenni? Why'd he go after that thing?"
"I'm sure he had his reasons, Sam."
"Yeah – stupid ass reasons like getting himself killed." Sam scoffed. He folded his arms across his chest and stared in the direction of the back door.
"I don't think that's why he went out there, Sam. I don't think he'd want to leave you here alone."
"He could've fooled me."
Jenni's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion as she studied the youngest brother for any trace of sarcasm, but was surprised when she found none. "What are you talking about, Sam? Why would you think that?"
Sam shrugged but didn't offer her an answer. He continued to stare at the back door, as if considering actually going out into the cool night air. Jenni shuddered at the thought, she didn't want Sam out there on his own after what had happened to Dean.
Jenni stepped forward and grabbed a hold of Sam's shoulders, squeezing gently and bringing his gaze down to meet hers. "Sam, why would you think that Dean would want to go get himself killed? Why would he do that?"
"Doesn't matter." Sam shrugged out of her grasp and pulled a coffee mug out of the cupboard and filled it with the fresh hot brew.
"Yes it does, Sam. Dean would never go out there and kill himself. I don't understand why…"
"It's none of your damn business!" Sam snapped suddenly cutting Jenni off mid sentence.
Jenni's jaw snapped closed with an audible click and she stared in wonder at the young man before her. He was trembling as anger ripped through him, even the coffee mug was trembling in his grasp. She took a step back uncertainly as Sam set the coffee mug down and pushed the brim of his glasses up on his nose so he could rub at his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to overstep my bounds." Jenni said quietly.
Sam didn't relax from his tense position, he rubbed slowly at his eyelids as if trying to control something that only he was aware of.
"Call me when the blood bag is empty and I'll change it." Jenni turned and left the kitchen, leaving Sam to his own devices.
Sam felt himself trembling as anger ripped through him and tightened his hold on the edge of the countertop, focusing on controling himself before he did something really stupid, something he'd later regret. He was finding it hard to do, so much had come down on them all at once and he was finding it almost impossible to control the urge to hit someone.
Jenni had been close enough that he could have taken a swing at her, but he had withheld. None of this was her fault, and she had been nothing but helpful throughout this whole thing. If he had clocked her one he would have felt extremely guilty for taking his anger out on her.
He turned slowly so he was facing the counter, his fingers digging into the edge as he ducked his head down to his chest, drawing in deep breaths.
He could feel all his suppressed emotions bubbling to the surface in one desperate act to escape. It wasn't fair – he couldn't understand why all these things seemed to hit all at once. First with this hunt from hell with one of Satan's minions and it had all gone downhill after that. What with his eyes being damaged and loosing his sight, then being caught by the FBI at the hospital and having to escape to this cabin in the middle of nowhere. His slow recovery was making him limited as to what he could do to help his brother right now. Although Sam was seriously going to rip into his brother for being so dumb once Dean was more aware of what was going on.
Anger gripped him once more and he reached for the closest thing to him – it just so happened to be his untouched coffee mug. He hurled it at the far wall and felt some satisfaction when it smashed as it hit plaster and paint. Dark coffee stained the wall and began to run down to the floor in several rivulets before it pooled into a dark mess amongst the several glass shards.
He took several deep breaths in through his nose and turned towards the back door once more, before making up his mind and storming to it. He hurried out into the cold night air and leaned against the deck banister, staring off into the pitch black that seemed to surround him.
The cold night air swallowed him and he felt a small shiver run through him as he dug his fingers into the unfinished wooden banister. Bits of splintered wood dug into his skin but Sam ignored it and shut his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. He would stay out here until he was good and calm, until he knew for sure that he wouldn't bite Jenni's head off, or take a swing at his brother just out of principle alone.
A soft wind rustled through the surrounding trees and tossed about Sam's hair, making it tickle his face. Sam felt himself relaxing with the calmness of the night, enjoying the soft sounds of the nocturnal creatures as they emerged after their long day of rest. Sam put more weight on the banister and gave a small grin as the night echoed with several creatures' voices - it was quickly putting him at ease.
Dean, of course, wasn't into the whole nature thing, and to be honest it wasn't Sam's first choice in a good time either, but he had learned to appreciate the whole thing while he'd been with Jess. The two of them had often taken long walks after it had grown dark, finding the stillness rather peaceful as other students of the campus returned to their dorms or drifted off to sleep.
The thought of Jess made his insides burn with guilt and regret. He would never admit this to Dean but he still ached for her companionship, he had been so happy when he had been with her – when she had been taken from him she had taken a large part of him with her. A part that had hoped one day to be normal, a part of him that he had hoped would return once they killed the yellow-eyed bastard who had taken her from him.
But after John's death, Sam was finding himself back pedaling. Perhaps John's death was a kind of omen, a sign that he could never have what other people took for granted. Every time he got close to someone they ended up getting hurt – or worse getting killed.
Sam worried about Dean for this reason. With how wrapped up Dean was in the guilt that had followed John's death, Sam knew that Dean wasn't totally in the game – or worse was too far into the game to pull out. Dean seemed overly eager to hunt anything and everything that popped up on the radar, when he had heard of the cattle mutilations back in Montana he had literally leapt out of his chair at the prospect at a hunt.
Sam had seen the way Dean had literally thrown himself into the heat of the hunt, how he had enjoyed using the chainsaw to kill the one vampire with blood splattering everywhere like a bucket of paint had burst. He hadn't been able to hide how worried he had been about his brother, and he knew that Dean had seen it – it had reflected back in Dean's eyes. But Dean hadn't backed off until Gordon had attacked Sam, using him as bait for Lenore. Dean's recklessness had cost him a few bruises and some split skin that time, but on the whole Dean had come out on top – but how long would that last?
This hunt could have cost Dean his life – hell, it would have if Sam hadn't gone out there to look for him. Dean had been loosing blood at a rapid pace and could have bled out within a short amount of time if Sam and Jenni hadn't gotten him back to the cabin and patched up. Sam sighed and looked up to the millions of tiny sparkling stars that twinkled against the dark sky.
He knew Dean wasn't out of the woods yet, his brother was still sick and weak – not to mention would be an ass once he was awake and aware, and feeling those stitches they had patched him up with. Dean was a bitch when he was in pain and was a very difficult patient to deal with.
Sam hated to admit it but he felt tired – he wanted to do nothing more but bury his head under his pillow and stay like that until his vision was back to normal and Dean was healed up. But the reality was that he knew it wouldn't be possible. Dean would need him around, whether he wanted to admit it or not, and Sam knew he would feel better if he was helping his brother rather than lying around feeling sorry for himself.
Thinking of Dean made Sam loosen his hold on the banister and turn back to the cabin, knowing he had been away from his brother longer than he had been all day. He should get back to him in case Dean woke up again. Dean hated being injured or sick to the point where he was flat on his back and helpless – but he hated being helpless on his own more than that. Even if he put on a bravado for anyone who might be in the immediate vicinity.
Sam entered the dully-lit kitchen and winced when he saw the broken mug and spilled coffee had been mopped up. A fresh cup of coffee sat for Sam on the countertop and the milk sat beside it. Sam poured some milk into his coffee and put it back in the fridge. He stirred at his coffee as he left the kitchen and headed to the living room.
Jenni was there and had apparently just finished changing the blood bag for Dean. She looked up at Sam as he studied her from the far wall, coffee in his large hands.
"He should be good for the rest of the night, Sam. If anything changes – let me know."
"Jenni, I'm sorry that I – that I smashed the coffee mug."
Jenni lifted an eyebrow and pursed her lips as she studied Sam carefully for a moment. She eventually shrugged her shoulders and pulled a blanket over Dean's shoulders. "It's just a mug, Sam, it can be replaced."
Dean mumbled in his sleep and turned his head in Jenni's direction. Jenni frowned and placed a cool hand against his forehead, but relaxed when she couldn't detect a fever.
"How is he?" Sam asked stepping forward and leaning over the back of the couch so he could study his brother through narrowed eyes.
"He's fine for now. I gave him another dose of painkillers – that should keep him out for the rest of the night. Watch for fever and watch his right ankle – I saw it was swollen a little while ago. He must have twisted it or possibly sprained it while he was out there. It's wrapped but make sure ice stays on it for now."
"Jenni?"
Jenni had been starting down the hall to the bedrooms but paused when Sam called her. She turned and looked at him, her eyes a bit colder than Sam was used to, but he supposed he deserved that.
"Jenni, I didn't mean it – you know, back there in the kitchen? I was just…"
"It's fine, Sam. Like you told me earlier – it's none of my damn business."
Sam studied her, his soft hazel eyes pleading with her, but Jenni ignored them.
"I'm going to bed, Sam. If you need a break come get me – you know where my room is."
With that Jenni turned away from the brothers and continued down the hall, where a moment later her door was shut a little harder than necessary.
Sam frowned as he turned to look at his brother, he didn't deserve any better after what he had said to her, but she was so like Dean it was unnatural. Dean often needed time and space to cool off when he was pissed and it seemed like Jenni was no different. He would give her time and then try to apologize properly later. Maybe a few hours of sleep would help cool her off.
He resumed his seat next to the couch, nursing his coffee and trying hard to keep his eyes open. He felt so tired, and the strain of the glasses was starting to take its toll. He wasn't used to having to wear them all day – he would have to get more accustomed to them.
"Don't know how you can stand being with a female version of yourself, Dean." Sam chuckled as he sipped at the hot brew. "One of you is bad enough."
The soft crackling of the fire and Dean's deep breathing answered him. Sam shook his head once and leaned back against his seat, fighting his heavy eyelids. He'd stay here for another hour or so before asking Jenni to take over for a while. He could use a few hours of rest – Jenni was right, if he knew Dean, which he did, he would need his strength to battle his brother into letting him help him. His body ached with the thought and his weary mind began to entertain him with less stressful things as a way of distraction. Sam let his eyes close and sank a little further into the chair. Yep, one more hour would be acceptable. He was sure Dean would understand.
***
A cool hand rested on his forehead, bringing him back into a world full of hurt. He groaned and worked at opening his eyes, although the signals from his brain were being blocked as his body stubbornly refused to cooperate.
"Take it easy, Dean." Jenni's soft voice floated to him in a haze and he felt himself stiffen slightly as Jenni's hands slid down his chest and lifted the bandages to examine the wounds there.
He took stock of himself while Jenni was occupied, his lips pulling into a frown as a slight headache started behind his eyes, beating in time with his heart. But that pain he could deal with, he went further down, letting out a soft grunt when Jenni touched a particularly painful slice on his chest.
The throbbing there too was manageable, he was sure that it was swollen – he felt inflated like he was a helium balloon. It was an extremely strange feeling, he didn't think the skin on his chest could swell anymore even if he wanted it to. He was sure if it did it would certainly bust at the seams and he would come apart completely. Still, the pain was mild in comparison to the agony ripping through his right arm and leg.
Those were going to be a problem, he gasped as a particularly nasty throb of pain hit him. His stomach twisted and nausea hit home. He tried to sit up but was immediately pushed back with Jenni's soft but firm hands. He gagged as the bile rose, burning his throat and making his eyes water. Tears streamed out from behind his closed lids and he clamped his lips together in an effort to fight the urge to throw up all over the petite nurse.
His efforts were in vain and he found himself unable to stop the flood that was threatening to drown him. He shot up and heaved, his head hanging over the edge of whatever he was lying on. He could tell it wasn't the floor but he was sure it wasn't his bed either. The room felt too warm for it to be the bedroom and the smell was different.
He gagged again and tried to push down what was left in his stomach but a soft hand rubbed at the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades, muttering quiet reassurances.
"Just get it all out, Dean. It'll be worse if you hold it in."
Dean couldn't have ignored her instructions anyway. The pain was agonizing and his body was rebelling against it in any way it could. He heaved again and spat out the remaining acidic remnants. He laid back, spent and weak against soft pillows while trying to get his breathing under control.
He flinched as a cold compress was placed upon his brow, unable to suppress the shiver that rippled through him.
"Can I get you something, Dean? You want some water?"
Slowly, and taking far more energy than it should have, Dean opened his eyes and Jenni's concerned face swam into view. He soft blonde hair was sitting on the back of her head in a tight bun, and she was clad in a spaghetti strap and light cotton pajama pants. She had a few worried lines creasing her forehead, and light purple bags under her eyes – but she was alert, and her soft blue eyes betrayed her concern.
"Sam…" Dean moaned his eyes roaming the room for any trace of his brother.
"He's sleeping – he was up most of the night. He's just over there." Jenni nodded to the lounge chair where Sam was sprawled and covered with a light blanket. His head was turned towards the couch and his mouth was slightly open, his breathing soft and even in sleep. Dark wavy strands of hair had trailed across Sam's forehead, hiding half of his face behind the dark locks.
Dean strained to look at his brother before settling back into the couch cushions, frowning slightly at Jenni.
"How'd I get back here?"
"Sam and I found you out in the woods – you were hurt pretty bad, Dean. Sam carried you back and we patched you up."
Dean lifted a hand to rub at his forehead, trying to ease the pounding that was drowning out almost everything else. "How long have I been out?"
"Almost thirty hours – but the painkillers had a hand in that."
Dean dropped his hand again and blinked heavily at Jenni, his expression clearly puzzled. "I don't really remember – it's all kind of fuzzy."
"Probably due to the concussion you have, you really took a nasty knock to the head, Dean. Could have cracked your skull."
"Did I get the bitch?" Dean asked reaching for the compress but Jenni smacked his hand away. He winced and settled for a glare while Jenni fidgeted with the blanket resting over his torso.
"Sam doesn't seem to think so – he thinks you injured the harpy, but didn't finish her off."
Dean frowned, he was sure there was something important he was forgetting, but he couldn't remember what it was. It was irritating, almost like an itch he couldn't reach to scratch. His foggy brain was sluggish and making it hard to think through the events of the previous day and the hunt with the harpy.
All he seemed to be able to remember clearly was telling Jenni that he was going off to finish off the bitch himself and heading for the impala to get the supplies. He didn't even remember making it to the woods – but he was sure that something had happened that he was supposed to remember, something that he had promised he would do.
Save Sammy? No – that was back in the hospital with Dad. He shuddered remembering, it wasn't exactly a pleasant memory and he hated remembering about how he had promised his Dad that he would either save Sam or – or, well, he didn't even want to finish that train of thought. It wasn't going to happen, not on his watch. He would save Sammy, he swore to himself that he would, because the alternative wasn't possible. He couldn't do it, no matter what he promised, he'd rather die.
"Dean, are you cold? Do you want another blanket?"
"No – I'm ok." Dean muttered staring off at the far wall, his brain working as though it were stuck in molasses.
"How bad is the pain?"
God, make it stops – it hurts.
The soft words disappeared as quickly as they had come and Dean stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he tried to grab a hold of whatever it was he was trying so hard to remember. He was pretty sure that that voice had something to do with it, it seemed so familiar. It had made him promise to do something, but that was still out of his reach.
"Dean?" Jenni leaned in further her hand resting gently on Dean's bandaged torso, searching his face for signs of discomfort. "Are you ok?"
Blood was everywhere, bloody hands were clawing at him – gray eyes were pleading with him. Begging him to do something.
Dean groaned and lifted his hands to his eyes, pressing hard against them in an attempt to remember.
Jenni leaned over, grabbing Dean's wrists in her small hands. "Dean? What is it?"
Dean's wide blown eyes traced over to Jenni's worried ones, his mouth opening and closing is silent gasps.
Please – don't let me die.
"Oh, God." Dean squeezed his eyes shut as horrific images of a small terrified man lying on the forest floor assaulted him. He felt Jenni's soft hands gripping his shoulders, but couldn't hear anything besides the heavy pounding of his heart in his ears and the last desperate cries of the dying man he had come upon.
Tell Dolly that – that Harry's sorry.
"Dean? Are you ok? Dean – Dean!" Jenni watched in horror as Dean's face went deadly pale before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he went limp in her arms. "Oh, God." Jenni lowered Dean back onto the pillows and placed a couple fingers against Dean's clammy skin along his neck, chewing desperately on her lip as she felt his racing heartbeat.
"Sam – Sam!"
Sam started in the chair, sitting up in a half sit and blinking his eyes heavily as his fogged brain tried to catch up with his body. Jenni kept her hands on Dean as she looked to the younger brother, desperation creeping through her as Dean began trembling under the blankets.
"Sam – I need your help here."
Sam looked over at her, still blinking sluggishly. He seemed to be having trouble coming around to the land of the living, not that Jenni could blame him. The kid was exhausted from being up and caring for his brother all night, but unfortunately Jenni didn't have time to be patient with him.
"Sam, I need help now! Get over here and help me."
Realization dawned on Sam's face and he was immediately on his knees next to the couch, one hand on Dean's forehead as Dean arched his neck and bucked under the sheets.
"Jenni – what is it? What happened?" Sam watched in horror as Dean's arms and legs began to jerk uncontrollably.
"He's seizing – damn it!" Jenni glanced at her watch before looking at Sam, feeling her stomach twist at the desperation and anxiety rolling off Sam in waves. "It'll be ok, Sam. We just have to get him through this – he'll be ok."
Sam nodded, but didn't look convinced. Jenni knew that the only person who could convince him that everything would be ok was currently in no condition to say so.
A rattling wheeze sounded in Dean's chest and white bubbles began to flow out of his partially open lips.
"Damn it, Sam – we have to turn him, he's choking." Jenni grabbed Dean's shoulder and roughly pulled him onto his side. A foamy substance began to make its way out of Dean's mouth and onto the couch; Sam grabbed a towel and held it under Dean's cheek to save the couch cushion.
"Why's he seizing?"
"It could be a number of things, Sam." Jenni waited for the inhale of breath, but when none was forthcoming she gave Dean a soft whack in between his shoulder blades. He gave out a rough cough and choked harder on the bile that was building in the back of his throat. Jenni gave another whack, a bit harder this time, and Dean expelled more of the foamy substance onto the towel Sam was providing. A soft shaky inhale followed and the spasms in his arms and legs subsided.
Jenni took in a deep breath and nodded to Sam who looked as pale as his brother was. Sam was barely able to control his own shaking as he wiped the last of the foamy residue from the corners of Dean's mouth.
"He'll be ok, Sam. That wasn't a bad seizure – and it didn't last very long. He's ok."
Large hazel eyes rose and locked gazes with her; the moisture in them was barely suppressed. "What happened?"
"His fever has risen a bit – but I think it is probably the head wound. I didn't like the looks of it yesterday – I should have kept a closer eye on it, damn it!" Jenni rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes trying to steady her own quivering nerves.
"Jenni?"
"He needs to be in a hospital, Sam. We can't do much for him here and he's suffering because of it." Jenni sighed and sat on the arm of the couch, looking down sadly at Dean's prone form. "He's in a lot of unnecessary pain that could be taken care of if he were in a clinic. We don't have the proper equipment to monitor him here – and it makes the chances of something like this happening again more probable."
"He won't go, Jenni."
"Damn it, Sam, he's in no shape to argue. We don't have a choice here anymore. We've done the best we can for him here but obviously it isn't enough. He was throwing up this morning, which means his head injury is getting worse, not better. We need to take him in."
Sam looked down at his brother, fighting the irritating voice telling him to just try and ride this out – the voice that sounded like Dean. He knew Jenni was right, they needed help and if they held out to see if Dean would start to get better on his own they could very well jeopardize Dean's health, something that Sam wasn't willing to do.
"Where can we take him?"
"We'll take him to Little Rock, it's the closest city with a hospital. I'll call ahead – let them know we're coming. They already have Dean's case on file."
"What name did you give them?"
"Jack Winfield." Jenni shrugged. "Best I could do on the spot."
Sam shook his head and wadded up the soiled towel he had been holding. "No – that's fine. We'll figure out how we are going to deal with the insurance later."
"We need to get going, Sam. The sooner we get him there the better."
Sam nodded and slipped his hands under his brother's back and knees.
Dean groaned as his injured leg was jarred with Sam's movements.
Jenni lifted the blanket and examined Dean carefully before nodding to Sam. "He's ok, Sam. Let's go."
Sam lifted his brother into his arms, cradling Dean against him and stood slowly, staggering a bit under Dean's weight. Dean's head lolled against his collarbone and rested in the crook of his neck, his soft breathing reassuring Sam as he stumbled his way down the hall to the front door, with Jenni right on his heels.
Jenni dodged around him as they neared the front door and had it open before Sam had reached it. He cautiously made his way down the front stoop and towards the impala, Jenni once again darting ahead and opening up the back door so he could slide in easily.
Sam settled himself as comfortably as he could on the backseat with Dean's head cradled on his lap. Jenni made sure Dean's legs were as comfortable as she could make them in the cramped space of the backseat before she settled a blanket over Dean's torso and closed the door. She slid in behind the wheel a moment later and started the black classic and shot it forward.
Sam winced as the impala smacked off the driveway's curb with a jarring impact. He knew that Dean had to have felt that, and his beliefs were confirmed when Dean stirred – moaning softly and twisting his head on Sam's lap.
"Just take it easy, Dean. We're going to get you help." Sam assured, placing a large hand on Dean's forehead.
Dean's mouth opened part way and his eyelids fluttered. Sam watched as Dean's eyes slowly opened, pain brimming from the glassy jade irises. They pleaded with Sam, and he mentally kicked himself while trying to suppress his own feelings so as not to agitate his brother any further. The fact alone that Dean was looking at him like that, with those open desperate eyes made Sam feel sick. It was the closest to help that Dean would ever come to asking – and Sam couldn't do anything to help aid him, rather than support him.
"It's ok, Dean, we're on our way to get you help."
"How is he?" Jenni asked looking at Sam in the rearview, her soft blue eyes blazing with concern.
"Go faster." Sam said quietly, never once looking away from Dean's desperate eyes.
Jenni slammed her foot against the accelerator, making the impala shoot forward with a throaty grumble.
Dean hesitantly lifted one hand up, grabbing at the collar of Sam's shirt, gripping it tightly in his fingers. He opened his mouth as though to speak but shut it again slowly, as if the effort was too much of a strain for him to handle.
Sam blinked away the tears that were stinging his eyes, not wanting to let them fall, not wanting to appear weak when Dean was so helpless to hide his own. He needed to be strong for Dean now; Dean had been strong for him for so long, it was time for him to return the favor. He tried to ignore the death grip that Dean had on his collar, although it was hard to ignore the way Dean's fingers were twining with the cotton.
"Just hold on, Dean – you'll be ok." Sam whispered, unable to suppress the trembling in his lower lip.
From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Jenni holding a cell phone to her ear and speaking urgently to whomever she had called, but Sam couldn't make out the words. A strange buzzing had filled his ears and that was only broken by the wheezy gasps that penetrated from his brother's lips.
"God, Dean, why'd you do it? You stupid bastard." A single tear slipped, trailing down his cheek and running over his full lips. He licked it away and held his brother tighter, staring into the glassy jade eyes that were no longer focused on him, but rather the far corner of the impala.
"Sam, how's his pulse?"
Sam uncurled his fingers from Dean's shirt and lifted them to his neck. "It's still really fast, Jenni."
Jenni repeated Sam's words into the phone and said something about Dean's breathing that Sam didn't catch. He instead looked out the window for a brief moment, watching the scenery go whipping by in a blur. He was sure that Jenni was breaking every traffic rule in her rush to get Dean help, a look around Jenni's petite form confirmed that belief as the small needle was on the far right of the speedometer.
He knew what Dean would say if he could see the way Jenni was abusing his baby, but fortunately for everyone else in the car, Dean was too far out of it to pay anything much mind. His breaths were increasingly shallow and his gaze stayed locked on whatever had caught his attention. He blinked slowly, and each time his eyelids lowered just a little bit further, as if the effort of keeping them all the way open was too much for him to handle.
"Just hold on, Dean, it won't be too much longer, ok? Just hold on."
Slowly – as if it were a great effort, Dean turned his eyes so he could look at Sam. They were still blazing with pain and it made Sam's insides ache – he was finding it close to impossible to meet his brother's gaze. Still he couldn't look away either, something was keeping his eyes locked on Dean.
The corner of Dean's mouth quirked in a half smirk and his eyes closed. The death grip Dean had on Sam's flannel shirt loosened and his arm slipped down Sam's chest, until it rested on Sam's lap.
"Dean?" Sam's voice trembled in hesitation. He moved Dean's slack arm out of the way and placed a hand to Dean's clammy neck, holding his breath as he waited for the throb of blood to greet him. The pulse was rapid and uneven, it made Sam's blood chill.
"Jenni – how much further?" Sam looked desperately up to the rearview mirror, and met Jenni's soft eyes as she looked up to gaze back at them.
"I don't know, Sam. What's wrong?"
"He's getting worse – he's slipping."
"Shit." Jenni once again slammed against the accelerator and the impala immediately responded to her commands. "He still wheezing, Sam?"
Sam lowered his head and tilted his ear next to Dean's mouth. Small puffs of warm air escaped Dean's partially open lips, but they were too small – and his breathing too rapid. Alarm bells were ringing in Sam's head, warning him that Dean was in trouble.
"Something's wrong – he's having trouble breathing."
"What do you mean?"
"He's breathing too fast – like he can't get in enough oxygen." Sam was starting to panic as a gray tint had started at the corners of Dean's mouth. "He's turning blue."
"Damn it – the seizure caused him to vomit and some of it must still be lodged in his throat, blocking the airway."
"What can I do?" Sam was ready to shove his fingers down Dean's throat if he had to.
"Elevate his head and try your best to get his neck in a position where he can get more air. Don't stick your fingers down his throat, chances are that he will bite you and could seriously injure your hand – and we have enough problems as it is."
Sam tried shifting Dean's dead weight to a better position but was finding it difficult to do. Dean was extremely limp and flopped about like a fish out of water. Sam settled for pulling Dean up against his chest with the back of Dean's head resting on his shoulder, he tilted Dean's chin a little to give his airway a bit more space and Dean's breathing eased.
The position was awkward at best, and Sam found it extremely uncomfortable to be smothered back here with Dean crushing him, but he didn't dare jostle his brother either.
"Keep an eye on him, Sam. Make sure he doesn't inhale any of the crud in his throat – if he breathes enough of it in he could suffocate before we get him to the hospital." Jenni warned not looking back at them.
As if he had needed anything else to worry about. Sam swallowed hard and watched as his brother's chest rose slowly and steadily under the dark t-shirt he was wearing. The bluish gray tint around Dean's lips was slowly turning to a healthy pink now that more oxygen was flooding his system, but Sam wasn't going to take any chances.
"How much further?"
"About twenty minutes if we don't hit any barriers." Jenni shot a quick glance in the rearview before directing her gaze to the road before her once again.
"Hear that, Dean, we'll be there in no time. They'll take care of you – we'll beat this. Just hang in there, Dean."
In the front seat Jenni glared out the windshield, swallowing hard at the emotion she felt rippling through her with Sam's desperate attempts to keep Dean fighting. She blinked away the angry tears that had started to burn her eyes at the unfairness that the universe had thrown at these two – they deserved so much better. She ground her teeth together and slammed her foot on the accelerator, hoping to get them to the hospital before something else happened. In his current condition, Jenni wasn't sure that Sam could handle it.
***
Waiting was always the hardest part of being in a hospital. Jenni was still trying to get used to being on the outside looking in rather than on the inside looking out. It was quite a different feeling to be waiting anxiously for the news on someone close to her. She didn't often let herself open up to anyone – Dean was the first person she felt like she had really connected with in a long time, and the waiting was grating on her last nerve.
On the far side of the waiting area, Sam was faring no better. He paced relentlessly up and down the small room, hands clasped behind his back and his head tucked down so his chin was resting on his chest. His eyes were focused on the linoleum floor – narrowed in thin slits and half hidden by the dark bangs that continuously fell over his forehead.
Even from across the room Jenni could see the anxiety lines creasing his forehead and the way Sam's front teeth burrowed into his bottom lip. She was surprised that he hadn't drawn blood yet. She was sure that his eyes had to be bothering him by now – they had left the glasses back at the cabin in their haste to get Dean to the hospital and they hadn't brought any medication with them.
Sam had taken care of the insurance by digging up a new card from the glove compartment – ignoring the astonishment that had risen on Jenni's face as she saw the small box containing all the fake ID cards. He had squinted but failed to read the name on the card until Jenni finally read it to him – and assured that it would work for now, Sam had stuffed it into his back pocket beside his wallet just as two orderlies had come rushing out of the doors with a gurney for Dean.
Sam hadn't spoken to Jenni at all upon their arrival – he had sat beside her for a while but then had picked up his pacing to pass the time – stopping only to harass the poor white haired nurse who was, once again, stationed at the small desk next to the door with the No Admittance printed on it. Jenni almost felt sorry for the nurse, but her feelings were quickly suppressed as the chalky face turned her way with blazing eyes, Jenni almost felt violated with her glare.
Jenni knew what was happening to Dean in the back room – although she didn't feel inclined to say so to Sam. She had seen enough in her several years as a nurse to know what actions needed to be taken to get Dean stabilized. He'd be ventilated of course, and all the mucus and bile would need to be sucked from his airway, blood would be another immediate as well as other vital fluids. He'd go in for scans to make sure that there were indeed no cracks in his skull – and if it was determined that there wasn't Dean would be sedated and left to rest while one of the many doctors working back there would come out here to give them the news.
However, if there was a crack in Dean's skull the results would take longer. The doctors would need to analyze the situation and determine if the crack was serious enough to have to operate to make sure there wasn't any internal swelling. Brain swelling was always a possible risk – and could cause permanent damage later on if not taken care of. Jenni winced as she thought of what Sam would think if he went into Dean's room and found Dean attached to the required machines that would help reduce any brain swelling that could have occurred. She wasn't sure that he would be able to handle that.
The ventilator and other necessary machines to stabilize Dean without a cracked skull would be bad enough. Jenni frowned as Sam's pacing stopped and he turned slowly to look at her, his soft hazel eyes red rimmed and a few tears leaking down his cheeks.
"Sam?" Jenni was immediately concerned and rose to her feet – she grabbed hold of Sam's shoulders and directed him to the closest chair without any resistance. "How bad is it?" Jenni asked knowing full well what had stopped Sam's determined back and forth trek. The pain had to be bad – and Sam was in no condition to hide it from her.
"It's bad, burning is back. Can't see much – it's all fuzzy."
"You've put too much strain on your eyes today, Sam. Probably set back your recovery for a bit." Jenni turned to look at the nurse who was staring at them – although she quickly turned away when Jenni's eyes met hers, trying to pretend as though she hadn't been watching.
"Can you call a doctor – he needs some attention."
"No, no – I need to be here when they are done with, Dean."
"Sam, you won't be doing him or anyone else any good if you are in this much pain. Let the doctor help you and I promise I'll come find you if they let me know what's going on with Dean."
Sam groaned but nodded once as more painful tears escaped his bloodshot eyes.
"What the hell are you waiting for?" Jenni snapped looking back at the white haired nurse who hadn't moved an inch. "Get the damn doctor!"
The nurse scowled at her but rose from her station and limped through the swinging doors.
Jenni redirected her gaze to Sam, digging her fingers into Sam's shoulders to help steady him as he slumped forward, his hands over his eyes.
"Sam, don't touch." Jenni pulled his hands away and held them down with one hand while holding him upright with her other. "You'll just irritate them more, the doctor will be here soon – he'll take care of it."
"I'll be ok – just need to know about Dean. Why haven't we heard anything about Dean?" Sam pressed out between his clenched teeth and then emitted a soft groan of barely suppressed agony.
Jenni wasn't stupid enough to believe that Sam was ok – he was no where near ok, but until he heard about his brother he was bound to be stubborn.
"These things take time, Sam. They are probably getting him situated. It shouldn't be too much longer now."
"What's the problem here?" A soft vaguely familiar voice asked gently next to Jenni's left shoulder. He had come in so quietly that Jenni hadn't even heard him approaching them.
Jenni turned to see the handsome face of Dr. Burken, whose eyes were narrowed as he studied Sam's pale face and red eyes.
"He hasn't had any medication for his eyes all day – they were injured a while back and he's on prescription glasses, but he forgot to bring them."
Dr. Burken nodded and gripped Sam's elbow, helping the ailing hunter to his feet. "We'll get you something." He turned to Jenni. "Do you know what pain medications he was on?"
Of course she knew, she had been his attending nurse of course – but by saying so she would be admitting more than she should about these two brothers. She kicked herself as she shook her head, chewing on her lip.
"I remember what it is." Sam mumbled lifting a hand to his eyes to try and suppress the burning there.
"Ok, let's get you settled first and then we'll see to your eyes." Dr. Burken easily led Sam out of the waiting area and through the swinging doors, leaving Jenni alone.
***
It seemed like forever since Sam had disappeared behind the swinging doors with Dr. Burken. The tiles had long ago lost the interesting designs and the speckled ceiling had more than five thousand, six hundred and something dots – Jenni had lost track and didn't want to start over again.
The magazines provided held no interest for her, and the coffee she had had a little while ago was making her jumpy with anxiety. She had heard no word on Sam or Dean and was starting to get edgy, feeling as though something had gone wrong.
The white haired nurse had gone off duty for her lunch hour, leaving Jenni completely alone in the waiting area. She was surprised that no one had come out to cover the nurses' station while the sour faced nurse was gone, but with her attitude, Jenni decided that it must be hard to find someone to cooperate schedules enough to work with her.
She had the urge to page Dr. Burken out to the waiting area, but thought better of it. She didn't work here – and it would be an unwanted interruption if he was with either of the brothers. She settled back against the seat, sighing slightly and bouncing her knees up and down as she waited for his return. She was hoping that Sam was feeling better and would come out to keep her company soon – he hadn't been much company before with his lips locked and his relentless pacing, but it had been better than sitting out here by herself. At least she had had someone she could have talked to if she wanted.
Jenni settled for resting her elbows on her knees and running her fingers through her short tangled locks, her tight bun had long ago come undone. She pulled absent mindedly at the knots she found, wincing when she hit a particularly nasty one. She pulled a few loose strands out and dropped them on the floor, chewing on her lip as she stared at the boring tiles.
The sound of approaching footsteps was so soft that Jenni didn't look up – afraid that she was imagining the sound with the hopes of news on either brother.
"Any word on Dean?" Sam's soft voice cut through the fog that was slowly working it's way over her.
Jenni looked up to see Sam settling on the chair next to her. She noted that his eyes, although tired looking, were no longer bloodshot and his face had lost the painful kinks and had smoothed out to the handsome face she had grown so accustomed to. She shook her head and slowly sat up, brushing Sam's broad shoulder as she settled against the back of her chair.
"No – but it shouldn't be too much longer."
"Hey, Jenni?"
"Yeah?"
Sam was studying his hands, playing with his fingernails. "I'm sorry – about last night. I didn't mean it."
"I know that, Sam. It's ok."
Sam shook his head once and looked away from his hands, slowly turning his head in her direction. "No, it's not."
Jenni met his gaze evenly, determined not to push too far but knowing that Sam needed to know that she wasn't holding anything against him. It always took her a bit to cool down but she had stopped being angry shortly after getting ready for bed.
"Sam, I have no right to pry – I don't blame you for being upset about that."
"It's not that – I was just worried I guess." Sam's top teeth skimmed over his bottom lip.
"You still are, Sam – we both are."
"I know we are – but I don't think we're worried about the same thing."
"What do you mean?"
"Jenni, Dean and I – well, we lost our Dad not too long ago. Dean hasn't been handling it very well."
"I'm sorry, Sam." Jenni knew those words were automatic, but she really did feel sorry for these two. She knew what it felt like to loose a parent, and it wasn't something you got over quickly.
"We never got along – my Dad and I. Dean did though, he worshiped the guy – did everything Dad ever asked of him without question. It used to make me angry, you know? It didn't matter what Dad told him Dean did it without question. Dad never really treated him like a kid – more like a soldier in a war, and I guess in a way that's what he was doing. Preparing us for this war."
"What war?"
Sam rubbed the back of his neck and swallowed nervously. "Against the things we hunt – with what we do. We needed to be ready – as long as I can remember that's all he had us doing. Training sessions, drills, hand to hand combat, weapons practice…when we got older - Dean started going out on hunts with him and I was left with one of Dad's friends. Dean came back hurt a few times – but he was always so proud that he had made Dad proud."
"Sam, can I ask you something?"
Sam gave her a slight nod, not meeting her eyes.
"What happened to your Dad?"
"He was possessed by a demon – he tore Dean up pretty bad. We were on our way to the hospital and a truck hit us – Dad and I made it out of it ok, but Dean didn't. He was in a coma – and the doctor told me not to hold out on the hope that he would wake up."
"Oh, Sam." Jenni's voice was barely louder than a whisper.
"Dean's heart stopped once – but they brought him back, he was still fighting really hard to stay with us. One night I went to find Dad and he was gone. I didn't know where he was – he had just disappeared into thin air – I went back to spend time with Dean and a couple hours later he woke up."
"Just like that?"
"Yeah, and what's more is he was all healed up – the raw wounds on his chest and the gash on his forehead were the only indicators that everything had actually happened. He told me that something felt off – that something didn't feel right, but couldn't place it." Sam's eyes glazed over a bit as he thought back to that day in the hospital, standing next to his brother's bed, watching as Dean wrapped a protective arm around his stomach, as though trying to suppress whatever was bothering him with the simple gesture. Sam had felt his own unease when Dean said that, but was unsure of why he felt that way – it was a natural instinct he supposed. When Dean was worried about something, Sam automatically worried about something.
"Dad came in then – and I was mad. Mad that he had snuck off, I'm guessing to find the demon. He was so mad at me for not killing that thing after what it had done to Dean. But it was like he didn't even care – he didn't even look at Dean when we got in the car – he just kept bitching about how I hadn't taken out the demon. I tried to pick a fight with him and he asked if we could just not fight for once – I should have known then that something was wrong. Dad was never one to back down – he had always been one to stand firm and meet me head on, but he was right – half the time I never knew what we were fighting about, just butting heads."
Jenni leaned forward and rested her hand on the back of Sam's squeezing it gently. Sam looked up and gave her a sad smile.
"I went to get him some coffee – and when I came back, he was gone. I don't even know how it happened. He wasn't in Dean's room, but in his own and he was on the floor – I called for help but it was too late. Dean was there when – when they called it. He hasn't been the same since."
"What do you mean?"
Sam swallowed and rubbed the back of his hand against his left eye, trying to think of a way to describe it without it sounding nuts. "Dean has never been one to open up – he's always closed himself off when it comes to how he feels about things, but after Dad died it's been worse. He's…" Sam hesitated trying to find the right word to describe it. "He's broken, but doesn't want to show it."
"Can't you help him?"
"I've tried to, Jenni, believe me I've tried. But he makes it so impossible to discuss. Every time I try to bring up the subject he turns it around on me, accusing me that it is my guilt that is plaguing me and I'm just dumping my issues on him."
"Do you feel guilty, Sam?"
"Why shouldn't I? I always resisted Dad – always! Never did anything without question. Even went out of my way to piss him off just because I could. Hell the last time I saw him I tried to pick a fight – I wanted Dean to see how obsessed Dad was with finding this demon – so obsessed that he would leave Dean alone fighting for his life while he went out for this stupid macho showdown."
"Why?"
"Because that's just the way Dad was – that's how he acted. It was like he didn't give a damn that Dean was dying as long as he got his way – as long as he ended this fight. I wanted Dean to see that – and now I'm really sorry that I tried to start something. He probably died thinking that I hated him."
Sam's voice cracked and a lone tear streaked down his cheek, and fell onto his dark t-shirt.
Jenni felt her insides twist with raw emotion for Sam, she had had no idea that he was carrying this around with him – that he felt this strongly about the subject. Although she hadn't spent a lot of time with Sam alone, she was usually with both the brothers – with the exception of her two nights filled with erotic fun with Dean.
"Sam," Jenni lifted a hand and cupped Sam's cheek in her palm, lifting Sam's head a little so his eyes met hers. "I know it isn't easy feeling this way – but I'm sure your Dad knew that you loved him."
"Did he?"
"Sam, your Dad might have known that he wasn't perfect, and that you didn't always agree with the decisions he made – but he knew you loved him."
"How could he?"
"Anger is a very passionate emotion, Sam – even if it isn't one that you would like to be remembering about your Dad. You might have been angry with him a lot – and yes you guys might have fought often, but that doesn't mean that you didn't love him. I'm sure your Dad knew that – and I'm sure he saw a lot of himself in you."
"How would you know?"
Jenni gave Sam a small timid smile. "I can get a good sense of who people are without knowing them very long, Sam. Dean is a protector – he's always putting himself in harms way to keep you safe. He doesn't need any other motivation than you. He puts you before himself because you're his brother, and that is a big responsibility to him. Because you're the last of his family he is so much more determined to keep you safe. Family is important to Dean – I can see that in his eyes every time he says your name, there is this spark that is impossible to miss."
Sam felt his eyes widening in surprise, but said nothing.
"Back when your eye injuries were still new I felt drawn to you and your brother. There was a bond between the two of you that I had never seen in siblings before and it intrigued me. The way Dean sat at your bedside, refusing to move unless it was absolutely necessary – but even then the breaks were few and far between. Dean hated to let you out of his sight. Whenever we went in to check on you Dean watched us constantly, as if he were just waiting for us to make a wrong move – I was the only one who broke through that protective barrier, although I'm not sure why. But for some reason, Dean trusted me more than he did the others."
Their conversation was interrupted as the white haired nurse limped through the No Admittance doors and made her way back to the nurses' station. She glowered at them and held a hand to her aching leg. Jenni responded with a cold look of her own, making the nurse turn away.
"Dean has always been there for me, always watching out for me." Sam said quietly.
"He worries about you, but I get the feeling you can take care of yourself. You've got this independent streak in you that stands out defiantly, Sam. You like being able to do things for yourself and that is part of what makes you who you are. You're more relaxed than Dean is, and if you don't mind me saying so…" Jenni trailed off as she looked into Sam's hazel eyes, he stared back unblinkingly.
"You're eyes aren't as hard as Dean's are – they're softer, more innocent somehow."
Sam reared back, caught unawares by Jenni's words. "I, uh…" Sam stuttered, unsure of what to say to that.
"They're a bit haunted though, like Dean's, although his pain is more suppressed than yours – hidden behind protective walls. But still – you've lost someone else you've loved, someone besides your Dad. Not too long ago either I'm guessing."
Sam swallowed and looked away. "How do you know all this?"
Jenni shrugged and glanced at her watch. "I told you I can read people, it's something I've always been able to do."
"Listen, Jenni, I don't really know if – if you…"
"I won't tell Dean about this, Sam."
Sam nodded once. "Thanks."
Just then the swinging doors opened once again and Dr. Burken stepped out, pulling off his rubber gloves and stuffing them in his pocket. He nodded at the white haired nurse before heading over to Jenni and Sam, his face somber.