This was Dean's nightmare all over again only this time it wasn't the house but the garage ablaze. Dean spotted a squad car and went to the cop immediately, demanding answers. Sheriff Jody Mills told the teen that his brother and uncle were at the hospital. She tried to question him but Dean had no fucks to give about her questions. The only thing that mattered was his family.
When he arrived at Saint Sebastian, the emergency room had quite a few people waiting for treatment. Two ER nurses flew by with a woman on a gurney and Dean only noticed her because she was snapping her teeth at the air as if trying to bite something. She looked deranged.
Failing to find help, Dean went looking for them himself, bolding pulling back curtains and calling for his brother. He finally found Sam behind a curtain on a gurney with an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and his eyes were closed. Dean brushed back his bangs and kissed his forehead.
"Sammy, wake up."
Sam's eyes fluttered open and there was his brother's handsome face like some prince from a fairytale.
"Hey, there you are. I'm here now Sam, so don't worry."
This was no fairytale but rather the beginning of a horror novel.
Sam's eye grew wide and tears fell hot and heavy down his cheeks, leaving streaks in the soot. His voice was raspy when he said Bobby's name. A harried doctor appeared to check on Sam, and Dean started his rapid-fire questioning.
"Your brother was brought here for smoke inhalation. He was treated on site but was transported here for further diagnostics. His breathing has improved but I want to get a look at those lungs just to be sure we aren't missing something. Your uncle is being worked on."
The doctor watched as Dean stroked his brother's hair and held his hand. The young one had his eyes fixed on the older one and he looked scared. Both of them wore old clothing and had that look children have when their lives were hard right from the get go. They weren't very forth coming with answers and the Dean wanted his brother out of there as soon as possible.
After they wheeled Sam back for some tests, Dean demanded, "I wanna see Bobby right now."
"That's not going to happen, not for a while at least. If Sam gets the all clear, you can take him home and we'll let you know your uncle's condition as soon as we know more."
…
Dean wanted to stay and wait it out until he knew more about Bobby's condition but Sam was ready to go and Dean was already in mother and protector mode. He wanted to bathe and feed Sam and tuck him in bed like he used to when Sam was younger.
Dawn was breaking by the time they reached Singer Salvage. The damage was done, the fire was out and all that was left of the garage was a shell. Sam turned away when they drove past it. All he could see was his uncle trapped under that shelf of vehicle parts as the flames licked at the walls. To Sam's relief, Dean hadn't asked him questions on the ride home. He wasn't even sure where to start since the past two days had been one horror after the next. Sam just wanted to crawl into bed with his brother and let Dean hold him tight. That was his safe place, in his brother's arms.
…..
Dean sat on the toilet lid and waited as Sam showered, just in case. In case of what, who knew. Sam didn't argue, it felt good to have his big brother out there. He didn't start the questions until Sam was dry and warm in flannel sleep pants and one of Dean's old t-shirts. He placed a bowl of warmed up soup in front of Sam and a plate of crusty, sourdough bread.
"Dean, I'm not sure where to start."
Dean tapped the bowl in front of his brother, "Eat and then eat some more. You look like crap."
"Gee, thanks." Sam ripped up a piece of bread into his soup and stirred it. "Yesterday morning I was out jogging with Rumsfeld, we'd been doing that most mornings for a while now." Dean was going to say something but Sam held up his hand, "I need to say this."
"Sure, Sam."
This guy…or at least it looked like a guy from far away, came out of the woods and onto the road and Rums went nuts. I waved to the guy and tried to calm the dog down but then Rumsfeld had his hackles up and looked ready to do something. This-this thing came running for me full speed but he clashed with the dog and, and…"
"Sammy?"
"And Rums had him pinned and clamped down on his arm but this thing bit Rumsfeld's neck and wouldn't let go. Rums was whining and it was terrible, Dean," Sam took a sip of juice before going on, "I got a rock and I hit it and hit it and well, I did it until it's head was caved in."
"Holy hell, what was it?"
Tears slipped from Sam's bloodshot eyes, "It looked like a person with melted skin like candle wax, not burned but sort of slipping down. It was awful. Rums died at the vet's office. He saved my life Dean. Rumsfeld weighed in at a hundred and twenty pounds, you tell me who could kill a dog that big with a bite to the neck? It's not possible. His neck was like a tree trunk."
It made Dean sick to think his brother was in that sort of danger and he silently thanked Rumsfeld for saving Sam's life. His brother's hand trembled as he raised the spoonful of soup to his mouth.
"Babe, finish eating. I'm going to call the hospital and find out what's going on."
Despite everything, Sam managed to eat two bowls of soup and the rest of the bread to mop it up. His hunger was in overdrive lately. It also made Dean happy to see him eat. Dean didn't look happy when he got off the phone with the hospital though.
"Bobby got admitted to the hospital and their taking him into surgery now. After I get you in bed, I'm gonna head over there."
"I-I tried to get him out but I couldn't."
"What happened, I know it's tough to talk about Sammy, but you can tell me anything."
"Last night I was doing homework and Bobby went to work on something. Maybe an hour later I smelled smoke and when I went outside, I saw the flames. I called 911 then I opened the door even though I knew it was dumb but I had to find Bobby…he was on the floor with a shelf full of auto parts tipped over on him and he wasn't conscious." Sam white knuckled the edge of the table as he went on, "I tried pulling him out. Bobby's shirt sleeve was on fire and then the next thing I know, a fireman was dragging me out of there." Sam stood suddenly, almost knocking the kitchen chair over, "I couldn't get him out!"
"There was nothing else you could do. It's not your fault, Sam, none of this is your fault. Not Rumsfeld, not Bobby, none of it. I'm here now and we'll figure it out together, just like always."
….
Sam drank the whisky laced toddy to please his brother. Dean said it would help him relax and fall asleep and it worked. The last thing Sam remembered before he drifted off, was his brother slowly running his fingertips up and down his arm until the young alpha succumbed to exhaustion.
Once Dean got to the hospital, he was only allowed to view Bobby through a small window into his room. The surgeon had stopped the internal bleeding caused by the crushing weight on his organs. His ribs were a mess and from one side of his neck and down to the wrist, Bobby had second degree burns that would need painful treatment. He had oxygen and an IV going and a nurse coming to check on him often.
Dean stood guard for over an hour outside that little window. He'd never seen Bobby look so vulnerable and sick. He was the toughest, strongest guy, Dean had ever meant. If anyone could pull through this, it would be Bobby Singer. He got to go in once and talk to Bobby, giving the hunter words of encouragement and Dean hoped his uncle could hear him since Bobby was drugged to the nines.
He stayed until visitation was over and the nurse insisted, he had to go.
"You got this, Bobby… and don't worry because I'm home now…"
…
Sam watched as the first snowflakes of the season gently fell. It was too cold and early to amount to much but just enough to soften the edges of the jagged world outside the window. The only thing keeping him on an even keel was having Dean there otherwise things could have gotten even worse. With Bobby in the hospital, there was a possibility a social worker could come calling. It had happened a couple times before when they were with their dad and John would have to pack them up and leave in a midnight escape. Sam recalled how terrifying that was as a little kid, the chance of losing his dad and his brother to strangers. If it happened now, he'd run and worry about what came next, later.
He placated himself with a mixing bowl of Sugar Pops and the TV on to drown his thoughts out. Sam put on the news to remind himself that maybe his special type of pain wasn't all that special.
Sam watched as pandemonium unfolded on the screen. He flashed back to the thing that killed Rumsfeld.
Here they be monsters.
….
Bobby opened his eyes to find a nurse fussing over him. His mind raced trying to recall the sequence of events that led him to this hospital bed and why his belly, ribs and arm felt like they went through a meat grinder. He thought he'd heard Dean talking to him in that inky darkness of his drug addled mind but there was no Dean to be found.
The nurse smiled down at him, "Your awake, good. How do you feel?"
Bobby's tongue felt thick and dry and he slurred, "Like shit."
"Bobby, you were in an accident and your doctor will be in shortly to explain." She fed him some ice chips and asked if he needed anything else then gave him the call button.
"A fire…last thing I remember was Sam tryin' to help me…Sam!"
A solemn looking man in jungle fatigues appeared at the foot of his bed.
"Bobby Singer, we meet again."
TBC