Dean and Sam arrive in a small college town where coeds are mysteriously disappearing, but the aftermath of the hunt leaves the boys struggling with something they never dreamed could happen. Will they be able to deal with the consequences or will the boys finally have to give up the hunt?
I do not own Dean and Sam, just the story.
Alright, before I go any further with this I just need to add another disclaimer. I will never claim to be an expert on paralysis or the spinal cord, but I've had enough interest in it over the years to become moderately knowledgeable of the subject. I believe what I write to be factual, but I won't dispute the knowledge of anyone who feels they know more on the subject. If anyone notices any blatant errors on my part I want to know about them. As for the bruising, yes, that is a possibility. The uncle of a friend of mine is quadriplegic and on a ventilator all because of a tiny bruise on his cervical spine. It's always seemed the cruelest twist of fate for such a tiny injury to be the cause of so many problems, and it just seemed like the most appropriate way for Sam to be injured. Thanks again for all the reviews and encouragement. I'm having so much fun with this story. I'm like an addict - it's all I can think about. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!
The sun shone brightly through the window in Sam's room, causing Dean to groan loudly at the irony. How could the day be so perfect outside the hospital when everything was falling apart within its walls. Slowly, painfully, Dean unfolded himself from the chair he'd fallen asleep in, wishing he had accepted the nurses offer for his own bed. His shoulder throbbed, but he had no idea where he'd put the painkillers the doctors had given him last night. Looking over at Sam sleeping peacefully, unaware of what he would be waking up to soon, Dean breathed a sorrowful sigh. I wish you didn't have to wake up to this Sammy. I wish you could just sleep through all the torment until I manage to find you a cure.
"Knock knock," Laura peeked her head in the door. "Can I come in?" she asked, forced cheer in her voice.
Dean nodded. His eyes widened gratefully as she held out a huge Styrofoam cup of coffee to him. "You, my dear, are a lifesaver. Now if you could just find my painkillers I think I just might marry you."
Laura winked conspiratorially. "So should we set the date now or do you want to talk about that after your brother wakes up?" she teased, reaching into a drawer in the table beside the bed and pulling out the bottle of prescription pills.
"Name the day, I'll be there," Dean promised.
Laura nodded affirmatively and then turned serious. "There were a couple of police officer's out in the hall looking for you. I managed to stall them for a little while, but I won't be able to hold them off forever. They want to talk to you."
"What did you tell them?" Dean demanded. He hated to sound so suspicious, but he still wasn't sure that Laura could be trusted.
"Just what you told me to say. I told them that I never actually saw the guy, but that I was certain he'd been badly injured before he took off. Give them a few days, Dean. I'm sure things will cool down when the attacks don't continue."
The confidence in Laura's voice did little to comfort Dean, but he provided her with the appreciative smile she deserved. Crossing the room, Dean peeked out of the long rectangular window in the door, scanning the hallway for any sign of the police officers. They were safe for the time being, but Laura was right; they would have to face the cops sooner or later. He and Sam were normally long gone before the questions began. This was going to be a whole new experience, and he wasn't looking forward to dealing with it.
Realizing it was time to change the subject Laura looked over at the still sleeping Sam. "How's he doing?"
"The same. They ceased with the sedatives about an hour ago, so he could wake up at any point now. And the doctors are running some tests to determine if he's strong enough to get rid of the vent as soon as he wakes up."
"Well that sounds promising at least," Laura offered encouragingly. She placed her hand gently on Dean's arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Her warmth and the confidence in her voice allowed Dean to feel hopeful.
"I don't get how you're doing this," Dean sighed.
Laura didn't try to hide her confusion. "Doing what?"
"Taking care of me and my brother. Bringing me coffee and comforting me and lying to the police when I'm sure you still don't understand what the hell happened last night. You're a rock, and yet you just lost a friend. This whole thing's gotta be tearing you up inside."
"There's nothing that I can do for Justine. Helping you and Sam keeps me sane. It proves that her death wasn't meaningless."
He flashed her the first genuine smile he'd yielded since before this whole mess had started. This girl is amazing. "Well thank you. You being here really is a help. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."
A frantic rustling sound interrupted their tender moment and the two of them turned towards the sound. Sam was awake.
"Sam, stop it!" Dean ordered, crossing the room in two long strides and grabbing Sam's hands away from his mouth. Fear and confusion clouded the youngest Winchester's face as he clawed desperately at the ventilator tube in his mouth. He hated the way it felt; the way it seemed to choke him and yet sustain him with oxygen. He hated the fact that it prevented him from talking. But most of all he hated the fact that Dean was determined to prevent him from removing it.
Dean soon learned that Sam's two strong arms, especially in their state of desperation, far out numbered his one. The left arm, still in a sling, was completely useless. "A little help here!" Dean implored, struggling with a distraught Sam. Laura had already pushed the call button to the nurses station and now grasped one of Sam's arms, using all her strength to pin it to his side. Wow, if he's this strong sedated in a hospital bed I need to remember not to end up on his bad side in a dark alley.
"Sammy you have to stop this!" Dean demanded, staring down at his little brother. "You're going to hurt yourself. The doctor's coming and he can take that tube out safely. Just calm down and wait. He'll be here soon."
Sam closed his eyes tightly. Damn you, Dean. Just let me go. Don't you see something's wrong? How could you let them do this to me? How dare you let them put this damn tube in my throat. How the hell could you possibly think this is a good thing. You bastard. When he reopened his eyes he fixed them to glare at his older brother, but Dean's attention was now focused on the two visitors just entering the room.
"Doc, you gotta take that tube out," Dean insisted. "He's panicking, and I think it's only going to get worse if you leave it in. My brother's strong. Take it out; he'll be fine."
OK, so maybe I was a bit hasty. Dean's not working against me, he's just trying to protect me. But come on guys, make this quick. Get this damn tube out of my freakin' throat!
Dr. Reynolds leaned over his young patient, his patronizing smile immediately getting on Sam's nerves. "Your brother seems to think you'll be fine if we take you off the ventilator and I agree with him. So let's get that tube out of your throat, shall we?"
Yeah yeah, just wipe that smug little smile off your face and hurry it up already. I don't have all day. I've got things to do; places to be.
"OK Sam, I'm going count to three and on three I want you to exhale for me really hard. Just blow out as hard as you can. Can you do that for me?"
Do I look like I'm five years old? Of course I can blow out. I can suck air in, too. Wanna see? Sam simply nodded slightly, just enough of an assurance to get the doctor moving.
As promised, Dr. Reynolds pulled the tube as Sam exhaled. For the next several minutes Sam wondered if he would have been better off leaving the tube in as his body was consumed by a hacking fit. The tube had scratched as it vacated it's position and Sam found it hard to get control of his breathing. The monitors shrieked as Sam tried desperately to breathe normally again. The nurse had stepped in and began spooning small slivers of ice chips into his mouth, soothing his sore parched throat. Dean paced the floor helplessly, wishing there was something he could do to absorb the pain and difficulties that Sam was experiencing.
It was several minutes before he felt confident enough to try and speak. "My chest," he croaked, wrapping his arms around his upper body and wishing he hadn't said even those couple words. His throat felt like someone had spent hours rubbing it with coarse sandpaper and instead of completing the thought mouthed to the nurse 'more ice.'
This was Dean's cue to step forward, realizing there was something he could do for his brother. Practically ripping the cup and spoon from her hand Dean addressed the nurse coldly. "I can take care of him now. Thanks for your help."
She hesitated, but backed away at Dr. Reynolds nod of approval. "I'm going to leave you guys alone for a while," the doctor announced, despite the fact that Dean had already dismissed him. "I'll come back in a while to talk to both you boys."
The door had barely closed before Dean spoke. "Don't listen to a word that idiot says," Dean told Sam, spooning another ice chip into his mouth. "He's gonna come back in here and tell you some things that you won't want to hear, but you should just ignore him. He's wrong. They all are."
Sam's curiosity got the better of him. Risking another burst of pain from his protesting throat Sam opened his mouth. "What's he going to say?" Well that wasn't quite so bad. It still feels like I swallowed a hundred knives, but now they're just dull dinner knives.
Dean shook his head emphatically. "It doesn't matter, Sammy. Because they're wrong. They're liars. We're gonna fix this."
"It's Sam," he rasped, glaring at his brother. "And it does matter. I deserve to know what you're keeping from me. Stop babying me. You have to let me deal with my own problems. What are they wrong about? What are we going to fix?" Tears suddenly sprang from Sam's eyes when the realization finally hit him. While he talked he'd been trying to sit up in bed and the move had proven far more difficult than he'd imagined. Difficult enough that Sam had finally given up. "Dean," he said weakly. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that I can't move my legs?"
Dean wouldn't look Sam in the eye. He couldn't. This wasn't a conversation he'd ever wanted to have. In all their years of hunting he'd confronted the idea that their deaths were inevitable, but he'd never imagined there would be a halfway point. He could accept a death. But what was this? How could he look his little brother in the eye and tell him that he could possibly spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Dean rose quickly, slamming the rolling bedside chair angrily into the wall before crossing the room to the adjoining bathroom and slamming the door. He had to compose himself before he could face Sam again.
"Dean! Dean, you have to answer me!" Sam cried, straining his throat even more. "Please don't leave me. Please. Deeeeean!"
Oh God, Sammy. I can't do this. I can't watch you struggle with this...this thing. Why couldn't it be me? It should be me! In the bathroom, safely hidden behind the closed door Dean allowed himself to cry. As he sank to the floor his body convulsed, wracked with the sobs he'd withheld from Sam's view. Five minutes, He told himself. You have five minutes to cry and that's it. After that you can be nothing but strong for Sam. Sam needs you.
From the far corner of the room Laura had watched the scene unfold in slow motion. Not wanting to get in the way she had remained quiet through the exchange. The brother's had their way of dealing with things and it was none of her business. But now Dean had disappeared and Sam was left scared, alone, and still without answers. As she had done with Dean all night, Laura now crossed the room and placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. The other hand reached out to brush a stray lock of hair out of his face.
"It's OK," Sam assured her, trying to put on a brave face. "He'll be fine. He'll be back."
"I'm not worried about your brother right now. I'm worried about you." Concern emanated from Laura's eyes and Sam found himself feeling very safe with her. His questions went unspoken, but Laura knew exactly what to say. Against her better judgement, she knew Sam needed to know his prognosis. "We've talked with the doctors several times since you were brought in here. You have a bruise on your spinal cord that's preventing you from moving or feeling anything below the waist. They won't give us a straight answer as to whether or not it's permanent, but they say the longer you go without sensation the worse your chances are for recovery. They aren't very hopeful, though. It seems only a handful of people ever fully recover from spinal cord injuries."
"So what happens now?" Sam asked. The lack of emotion in his voice scared Laura.
"We ignore what those quacks out there are telling us and fix this on our own; the only way we know how. The Winchester way." Sam and Laura both looked to the bathroom doorway where Dean now stood, fear and uncertainty replaced by confidence. It was time to battle another demon. The demon known as paralysis.