Hey Y'all!
Guess who decided not to pay attention in Physics and History because this is more exciting? :)
Anyway, I did promise to get it to you before Christmas right? well I did, just earlier than expected.
I really didn't want to do research for the medical stuff (for reasons I will explain later) so I glossed over that part. If any medical facts that I did use are incorrect plz correct me and I will fix it.
Hope you like it!
Dean didn't notice Millie's shocked look at the gun in her hand. He didn't notice his father and Bobby rushing the dazed woman. He didn't notice that he had dropped to his knees, didn't notice the tears that had formed at the edge of his vision.
What he did notice was his little brothers form jerk when the bullet hit him, the cry of pain that Sam released and the solid thump of his body hitting the floor still rang in his ears. He noticed when Sam curled a hand over his chest, noticed the curl of his lip as he handled the pain, noticed hazel eyes move frantically searching for something.
He noticed the moment that those scared hazel eyes found his own green ones.
"De." gasping, his little brother reached his hand out to his brother who clasped it with no intention of ever letting go.
"I'm here Sammy, I'm here."
"Hurts." With a groan the younger man began coughing, blood spurting from his lips.
"I know buddy, just," Dean took a breath, not caring that it was ragged, small sobs were beginning to escape him as well. "Just hang on for me."
"Yes, he's been shot, in the stomach, blood coming from his mouth." Bobby's voice penetrated Dean's almost tunnel focus on his little brother. "We are at," then the older man rushed outside, most likely checking the house for the address.
"Don't... leave... me." Sam pleaded, and Dean swore his little brother, this goliath of a man, never looked smaller.
"Never Sammy. I'm right here."
"Dean we need to put pressure on the wound, gotta staunch the blood flow." He barely heard his father's whispered instructions, but his father seemed to register that his eldest wouldn't be moving from his spot as Sam's anchor, taking on the role of medical for himself.
"You're going to be okay Sammy, we're going to be back on the road before you know it. Maybe Bobby would let you rest up at his place, He's got enough books that you can nerd out over."
"Oh, yeah?" Sam's words were more slurred now, his eyes losing focus.
"Yeah, but you gotta stay with me in order to read them." the urge to just carry his brother to the hospital because by god he had to be faster than that ambulance was strong, but that would mean putting his brother in more pain, which he was not willing to do. "Can you do that for me Sammy?"
His brother was losing the battle for consciousness even as he nodded, coughing up more blood in the process. He continued to whisper encouragements, words meant only for his little brother to hear even as the blaring yells of sirens were heard.
"Help is here Sammy, you got to stay awake."
"De, I'm" He gasped in pain this time, his back arching off the floor. "I'm… sorry." The word slurred on his tongue, hazel orbs rolling up in his head as eyelids fell closed.
"Sam?" He gently shook his brother as the medics raced into the house. "Sam!" He yelled and muscled hands began pulling him away, "Sammy!" He struggled against the arms which held him tight against a man's chest, watching as the paramedics began working on his brother, he didn't stop screaming as Sam was transferred from the floor to the gurney a pool of blood stark against the white tile floor. He didn't notice his father yelling his name as they both lowered to the ground, the elder hunter trying to calm down his son.
He didn't notice another paramedic team rush in the house, one pulling out a syringe. He didn't notice the cool feeling of disinfectant or the prick on his neck. He didn't notice that he was wrestled onto a gurney of his own.
He was too busy watching his brother being loaded into the back of an ambulance to notice that his own eyes were drooping.
The last thing he noticed though was his little brother's face, turned to him, his battered cheek resting in sharp contrast to the white cot underneath him, and the foggy plastic sticking out of his little brother's throat.
John was worrying about a hole in the hospital's waiting room. Both his sons had been taken behind closed doors, doors that he was apparently not allowed to go through. He knew that his youngest was being taken for surgery, they had to remove the bullet, but when the doctor came out to tell him about all the problems Sam had, it had been enough to make him sit down for possibly half an hour.
Multiple head wounds, some opened at some point only to close on their own later, many lacerations, burns and cuts on almost all of his limbs, the brunt of the wounds on the young man's back. He was malnourished, like he hadn't been fed properly in days. There were bruises on his wrists and around his neck, plus some open wounds most likely from the chains he was held captive with. And of course the bullet wound. The bullet had nicked one of Sam's lungs, which is what caused the blood to come up from his mouth. John had been worried about infection, but the doctor assured him that they hadn't found any signs yet in the older wounds, but they were monitoring them closely.
Bobby had let out a few choice words when they mentioned possibly having to do a rape kit on the boy, because that's what he was to bobby, as he flinched and tried to get away from the doctors when they tried to remove his clothes for surgery. It was the only time the boy was awake in the last ten hours. Visiting hours were coming to a close but none of the staff were willing to kick the pair out of the waiting room, both because they were scared of the death glares they received if they tried and because they had been through so much. Mainly though, they wouldn't take away any comfort provided to the young men that had been brought in earlier that day.
The entire staff was shocked at the state of the long haired young man that was brought in around ten that morning. The paramedics were yelling for help and to prep a room in ICU for surgery. Then the hospital doctors took over, but not before the receptionist, Barbara Walters, saw the battered face of the man on the gurney. This kid was barely a man, couldn't be more than 22 in her opinion. Minutes later another young man was brought in, restrained to his gurney. While he wasn't going to ICU and he was clearly not in the same condition as the younger man before him, Barbara could tell that they were related. Not even ten minutes later, two older men came rushing into the hospital straight towards her, huffing about being the family of the injured men. She could understand the families worries about the boys, for that is what they seemed like to her, and gently gave them the paperwork they needed to fill out.
It was also Barbara who told the workers who would kick out the waiting families at the end of the night to let the two stay there. She had a feeling that the men would just find a way to sneak back into the hospital anyway.
It was just after visiting hours opened the next morning when Dr. Manson walked into the waiting room to see two men passed out in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. He unfortunately had fallen asleep in those chairs as well and pity's the soreness the men will experience when they wake up. After a moment, he recognized one of the men as the father of the two boys he currently had under his care.
"Mr. Winchester?" He called quietly, hoping not to startle the man too much. It was a useless effort as both men jumped up quickly, eyes alert and bodies poised as if they were expecting an attack. "Sorry to disturb you. I'm Dr. Manson, the doctor who spoke to you yesterday about your son Sam?" He was already corrected from Samuel last night.
"How is he?"
"Your son is doing fine. He made it out of surgery ok and is resting in a room with his brother. It didn't occur to me until now that no one had come to inform you about Dean's condition." From the guilty look on his face and the short glance he shared with the other man, the doctor could tell then men had almost forgotten about Dean as well.
"Did something come up with him?" the other man asked worriedly.
"Not exactly. We found bruising on his wrists and his neck, most likely from chains similar to Sam. Can I assume they were both in captivity for some time?"
"Yes. Dean was only captive for a few days while Sam was gone for two weeks." John answered.
"I see. He has some light bruises as if he fell down some stairs or something. They're almost gone now so it might not have been part of the kidnapping. He also has a bite mark that broke the skin at the base of his neck. Hopefully if we take care of it, there won't be a scar."
"We also did some blood testing on both your boys. It's not routine but due to the circumstances and reactions that we noticed we figured it would be a good idea. The toxicity reports came back and I have to say that I am amazed that either of your sons are awake."
"What do you mean?" Both men spoke at the same time, although it was too similar to be deemed a coincidence.
"Dean has about two weeks worth of sedatives in his body. And from what we can tell, they were heavy duty. We were quite surprised that he is still able to wake up but it could be because of the situation he woke up to that he was still able to function. Please be aware that he might be groggy for the next week as the drug gets out of his system."
"Will the sedative you gave him to calm him down have any effects?"
"Well Dean managed to over power that sedative in the ambulance on the way here, which is why he was restrained. Luckily as soon as he recognized the situation he relaxed enough for the sedative to pull him under again. The staff is alerted and no more sedatives are to be administered to your oldest unless under dire circumstances."
"So after it passes through, he should be fine?" John was way to calm for this and for some reason it unnerved Dr. Manson. Sometimes he would get parents who were in a state of shock would react calmly to this news. But John's calm didn't look like it was holding onto a thread. The fatherly concern was clear in his eyes, and he had a good front, not many people were able to hide their fear that well, yet he didn't seem one step away from breaking down from the news.
"Yes, Dean should be fine." there was a visual release of tension at his words. "But Sam will be more complicated."
"How?" Manson wasn't even sure who was asking questions at this point.
"We haven't been able to identify the drug that was used on Sam, although we think we found traces of more than one type in his blood." He took a breath before continuing. "From what we could tell, some of this drug targeted his memory, something we won't know until he wakes up. Another concern was a target paralytic which confuses us. From what we have, we don't believe that his body was ever paralyzed at the same time, instead more of certain limbs." The Toxicologist that had looked it over had provided more information than that, something that concerned him because there was no way that she was able to discover some of the more complex observations of the drug with such little time to study it. "Again due to the amount of drugs in his system, we can't administer any drugs to him without risking his safety."
"Thank you for taking care of the boys." The man that wasn't John held out his hand to the doctor.
"Yes of course." John seemed to be in thought about what the types of drugs in his son were. "Visiting hours are open, and as both are in recovery, would you like to see them?"
"Yes please." Manson's offer seemed to snap John out of his thoughts and the two followed him to their boys.
Hey Y'all, thank you for reading!
So story time. I wanted to make sure that the place that I shot Sam originally was medically correct, so I looked it up, no problem right? Well this would be ok and all if I didn't do this on the school computer when the teacher walked by and stood right behind me when I searched it. Fun Fact: Teacher's tend to judge students for stuff like that.
Thank Y'all for sticking with me through this!