Nightmare
Chapter 2 - Watching Over and Remembering
By infinite shadow
Disclaimer: The lovely Winchester Men all belong to the WB and are unfortunately not mine.
Author's notes: For the ones that asked for it here it is. The second chapter. This one is all Sam's point of view. Hope you like it cause there will be a third chapter following as soon as I can get it written.
Sam had finished treating his brother's wounds over two hours ago. Dean had fallen asleep almost right away, exhaustion from the wound and the long walk from the Bender's farm back to the police station where the Impala waited for them claiming him. He should have known then there was something wrong by the way Dean had been holding his arm. The quiet walk back to the station also should have told him that something was off. When they'd finished hunting Dean almost always had extra adrenaline or energy to spare and looked for an outlet. His older brother would fidget in the car, or play with his precious tapes or bug the life out of Sam. This time asking his older brother if he was alright had only gotten him the patented glare and a gruff I'm fine. He'd been stupid enough to let it go.
He tried to remember what happened before he woke up in the cell. Things were foggy but he remembered leaving the bar, checking out a noise that turned out to be a cat then going to get into the car. He remembered someone shouting and he'd turned to look thinking Dean had called out to him to go back into the bar for another round. Instead he'd seen two other men standing near the Impala and then . . . Nothing. He didn't know what happened after that.
There were two things he knew now. One - Dad was not going to be impressed with either of them and two - next time he would insist upon leaving the bar together when they were both ready to go.
Even though they were miles away now and safe his thoughts were still back at the farm, still locked away in that steel cage. He shivered slightly as he remembered waking up in the long cell that wouldn't let him stand up fully. His first thoughts went to Dean wondering if he was caged up as well. Looking around his surroundings he saw Jenkins instead. Jenkins. That man did not have to die. If he'd just listened to him when he told him that something was wrong to get back into his cage maybe the man would still be alive. Sam could still hear the man's scream rip through the quiet night and was sure he'd hear it for some time to come.
A large yawn escaped the young man. The memory of the cell and Jenkins was too close, too fresh and far too clear in his mind to allow sleep to claim him. The cop that had helped them in the end wasn't far from his thoughts either. He'd known when he'd left Kathleen standing over the sick hunter that she was going to kill him and he'd done nothing to stop her. Did that make him just as bad? Hadn't they hunted the Benders down like the Benders had hunted countless other's? Where was the line that said it was ok to kill that man, but not ok to kill Jenkins? Granted it had been sport to the Benders, but how different was sport to all consuming revenge?
Sam sighed deeply not happy at where his thoughts were going. There was nothing he could do about it now and there was a far more important reason that he wouldn't allow himself to sleep. He didn't know when Dean had been burned at the Bender's but he did know that it had taken them over three hours to get back to the motel and after a couple of hours of sleep Sam had cleaned and dressed his wound. But he knew it wasn't enough and he was afraid that infection was setting into the second degree burn.
Not wanting to wait any longer he reached out and turned on the lamp. The soft glow filled the room again as Sam pulled off his blankets and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Stifling a yawn he looked over his brother. Dean was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and he was shaking slightly.
Getting out of bed Sam grabbed the med kit, pulled out the sealed sterile gauze bandages and medical tape quietly putting them on the night stand. Then he went into the bathroom, doused a face cloth in cool water, wrung out most of the excess and returned to his brother. Sitting beside the older hunter Sam slowly pulled back the thin sheet that covered his brother's bare chest. Moving the amulet to the side he gently pulled away the damp and stained bandage that covered the burn. He tossed the used bandage into the small trash can near the bed and pressed the cool cloth against the burnt skin.
"What?" Dean moaned quietly as he flinched and opened his eyes. "Sammy?"
"Sorry. I know it hurts. I think it may be infected," Sam said softly
"Oh good. Cause if it's not I don't want to know what infected feels like," Dean said closing his eyes and leaning back against his pillows.
"I just put the cloth on it to cool it down. Can you give it a minute," Sam asked.
Dean nodded and shivered as he opened his eyes.
"Cold?" Sam asked.
"A little," Dean admitted.
Sam pulled the comforter up around his brother keeping it from the wound. His concern intensified a little when his brother didn't protest.
Staring at the ceiling Dean closed his eyes and sighed. "Why is it that our jobs are always so fucked up?"
Sam shook his head a slight smile tugging at his lips. "I don't know. Some people get a corner office with a secretary or carpel tunnel syndrome. We get demons and ghosts. Some days we get seriously messed up people. It's just how it goes sometimes and you need to just roll with it. I though the Wisconsin job would have taught you that."
Dean opened his eyes and looked at his brother. "Which one?" He asked frowning trying to place the vague reference.
"Black River Falls," Sam said a hint of a grin pulling on his lips.
"You were never to bring that up again. Ever," Dean said glaring at his brother then his expression softened. "You know I can deal with the demons, ghosts, banshees, shape shifters or wendigos. They make sense and I can understand why they do what they do and why we kill them. How can a person get that messed up. Why are people the worst things we have to face?"
"I don't know," Sam said and he really didn't. How could you explain hunting humans and cannibalism?
"Enough Sammy. Take the damn thing off," Dean said. There was no anger in his tone, just pain filled weariness.
"Yeah, ok," Sam said as he took off the cloth and took a moment to really check the burn.
"It's fine. Slap on another bandage so I can go back to sleep," Dean said around a yawn.
"I'm almost done," Sam said keeping his voice calm and soothing. It was hard as he didn't like what he saw. The wound was oozing, it was more swollen than before and he was sure that the smell coming from it wasn't good.
"Sam," Dean growled. His eyes were closed but Sam recognized the tone. His brother was exhausted and quickly losing patience.
"Just let me put on the gauze," Sam said. He tore open a large pack of sterile gauze and gently placed it over the wound. Sam winced slightly as Dean gasped and his eyes bolted open.
"Damnit Sam, that hurts! Where the hell were you when Dad was handing out the bedside manners?" Dean yelled.
"Easy. Man you got PMS or what?" Sam asked as he pulled a strip of medical tape from the dispenser. Granted it was usually something Dean would say to him, but it was the best he could do and concentrate on keeping his hands from shaking.
Dean nodded. "Yeah smart ass. That must be it."
Sam frowned at his handiwork as he finished securing the gauze around the wound as he thought he could feel his brother trembling slightly. "It's done, but don't go to sleep yet," he said not liking how warm his brother was.
"No sleep. Got it," Dean said as he closed his eyes.
Sam got up off the bed and went into the washroom. He took a moment to wash his hands and splash some cool water on his face. As dried his hands and face he could hear his brother moving around in his bed.
"Sammy?" Dean called out.
Sam frowned as he started to fill a glass with cool water. "Yeah?" His frown deepened as he didn't get an answer.
He shut off the water and went back into the room. Dean was sitting up in his bed staring at Sam's empty bed. "Sammy, don't go."
Sam looked over at him as he fished through the medical kit frowning slightly at the fear in his older brother's voice. "I'm not leaving," he said as he found the pain reliever and sat on the bed beside his brother again.
"But you left and I looked everywhere and I lost you again. I was honest with that cop and almost got arrested trying to get you back," Dean said grabbing his brother's arm pinning his brother with a desperate look. "Swear to me that you're not going anywhere Sammy."
Sam was a little taken aback at the vulnerability in his brother and he smiled slightly hoping to relieve some of his fears. "Look man like I told you at the bus depot. You're stuck with me," he said confidently hoping that if the smile didn't do it the tone would.
Dean held his little brothers confident gaze for a moment then released him looking away.
"You need to take these," Sam said slightly relieved that he couldn't see the panicked look on his brother's face anymore. He shook out two brown pills and put them into his brother's hand.
Dean frowned down at them.
"Take them, it'll help," Sam said quietly.
His brother looked at him for a moment with glassy eyes looking unsure then popped them into his mouth and washed them down with a few sips from the glass of water.
"Get some sleep," Sam said as he took the glass back and put it on the night stand.
"But Dad," Dean said his eyes half closed as he shifted back down into the bed's warmth.
"Could be here when you wake up. It's ok Dean. I'm here and I'll still be here when you wake up," Sam said carefully keeping his voice low and soothing.
"Kay," Dean mumbled. "Thanks Sammy."
Sam stayed beside his brother until he was sure he was sleeping. Then he turned off the light as he moved into his own bed.
Resting against the headboard of the bed under the cheap comforter he took solace in the only noise in the room. The sound of his older brother's rhythmic breathing had calmed him for years after nightmares and hunts. Often it was the only thing that would lull him into a peaceful slumber. Now it served to calm some of the thoughts rushing through his mind.
After all the fighting, anger and hurt feelings he was going to see his Dad again. There was so much he wanted to say to him, so much he needed to hear, but mostly he was afraid. Afraid of what he would actually say to his Dad and what his Dad would say to him.
He remembered in vivid detail the fight that had ended with him ripping himself out of his family. Sam had been frustrated by the hunting, daily training and nomadic lifestyle. What was so wrong with normal anyway? He couldn't understand his Dad and brother's drive to rid the world of evil as they looked for his mom's killer. That was the problem. It was hard to avenge someone that you couldn't remember.
The last conversation between father and son rang clear in his ears.
"No Sam," John Winchester said. "You can't go. It's out of the question son."
"Dad I worked so hard for this! Why can't you let me go to school? Why can't you understand that I can't live this life you want me to live! I hate these motels, these demons and weapons! I hate hunting! If I don't see another container of rock salt it will be too soon!" Sam yelled swiping a conical container of rock salt off the table, which caught his acceptance letter from Stanford, tossing a piece of both worlds to the floor.
Sam watched the colour drain from his Dad's face where he sat at the table sharpening a knife on a whet stone. Slowly he stood up, leaving the tool and knife on the table, and took two steps towards his youngest son. In his peripheral vision he saw his older brother stand up from where he'd been lazing on the couch watching TV. Dean took a small step forward ready to get between them if need be.
"Listen up boy 'cause I am sick of your crap," John Winchester growled out as he clenched and unclenched his hands repeatedly. "Either you stay with us and hunt with us or you are against us. If school is more important than your family then get out. Just know that if you walk out that door now don't ever come back. If you leave you are no longer welcome under my roof or entitled to my protection."
Sam stared at his father for what felt like an eternity. He broke eye contact as he reached down and grabbed his acceptance letter off the floor. Stuffing it into his bag already packed with his meager possessions he looked past his Dad to Dean as he straightened up. His brother was pale and even across the room his eyes were bright with fear. He looked torn at what his Dad had just said and what his little brother was going to do. Dean shook his head once pleading with him not to go.
"Bye Dean," he whispered and left.
Just like that he'd changed his life and his family's life. Dean was right. He really was a selfish bastard.
Sam was pulled out of his musings as Dean mumbled something in his sleep and shifted position.
How many times since he'd joined Dean on this quest had he said that he needed to find Dad? Every time the confident reply was don't worry we will, it'll take time but we'll find him.
Sam smiled slightly to himself. His older brother was the one thing he could truly count on growing up. His very own capeless super hero. Dean had never lied to him and he always came through for him. Whether it was the school yard bully on the playground, soothing away his fears after a nightmare or watching his back on a hunt Dean was always there.
Of course that also meant that he had to watch his own back when Dean got into prank mode. There was the Nair, the tattoo, and he'd even pee'd blue for days. He'd learned the hard way that an occupied teenage Dean was far safer than a bored teenage Dean.
Dean mumbled in his sleep again, moaning out loud and saying something about killing everyone. Sam glanced at the clock and saw that he'd been lost in his thoughts for a good hour.
Concerned he flicked on the light and got out of bed to check on his brother. He could feel the heat coming off of him before his hand touched his forehead. Sam quickly went and got cool cloths and went back to Dean. Gently he moved the first cloth over his face to wash away the sweat and left it on his forehead hoping to cool the fever that burned in him. Then he carefully placed the second cool cloth over the bandaged burn hoping his brother wouldn't wake. Dean didn't and Sam was somewhat relieved. He hated seeing the fearful panicked look that had been on his brother's face earlier that night when he thought Sam would leave him again. He moved back to his bed rubbing at his tired eyes and turned off the light.
It wasn't often that his brother showed fear, but he had a few times that Sam remembered. Sometimes when they were much younger and his brother was just old enough to start hunting with their Dad, Dean would have nightmares. He'd never call out in his sleep, but Sam would somehow feel his brother's fear, wake up and crawl into his bed. Sam was too young to really understand the demons that they battled, but he'd understood the night terrors and that was something he could comfort his brother from. He'd wrap his small arms around his brother tightly until Dean's heart would stop beating frantically. Nightmares were usually his thing, and he was glad that Dean's run with them hadn't lasted more than a few months.
Dean had only hurt Sam physically once. Dad had taught Dean a new fighting technique and expected Dean to teach Sam while he'd gone on a hunt. Sam was an awkward eleven year old and was having difficulty with the moves and keeping his balance. Sam hadn't blocked properly, putting Dean off balance making him lurch forward knocking both of them to the ground. Dean had landed on top of Sam pinning his hand behind his back making Sam cry out in pain. After Dean had figured out that the wrist was broken he'd rushed him to the hospital.
Almost as soon as his older brother had helped him into the emergency room Sam had been taken from Dean and put on a bed in a curtained off area. They'd taken off his shirt and Sam had caught the look between the doctor and nurse when they'd seen some of the bruising on his chest from the training they did. He began to worry as they'd already had a visit from child services in the last town they had lived in.
But all he could think about while they set his wrist was the look on his older brother's face. Fear. It was not something Sam had been used to seeing on his older and much more confident brother. Dean could do anything, hunt with his father and drive at the age of 15. The way his brother conducted himself made people believe he was much older than that.
He'd asked quietly for his older brother while they put a cast on his wrist trying to be brave and not to cry. The doctor had told him that he was not allowed in there and started asked him a lot of questions. How often did he get hurt like this? Was this the first time he'd broken a bone? Did his brother touch him in places that made him uncomfortable?
Suddenly he was extremely afraid, feeling strangely vulnerable without his brother by his side and was scared they would take him away from his family. As tears began to stream down his cheeks he started screaming Dean's name and suddenly his brother was there. The fear was gone from his face, gentle concern over his younger brother had replaced it and he'd calmed Sam. When the tears had stopped Sam wouldn't let go of him begging him not to leave him alone. Dean had glared at the doctor and nurse demanding to know what they had done to scare his brother.
The questions about being abused had stopped and Dean had sat on the bed with his arm over Sam's shoulders while the Doctor and Nurse finished putting the cast on his wrist. He talked a constant soothing conversation with his little brother and eventually Sam had started to drift towards sleep with his head resting on his brother's chest. Dean didn't stop talking until their Dad had come to take them home. Sam had never blamed Dean for breaking his wrist, but he knew his brother would never let himself forget
Sam thought about all the training they'd learned. The hand-to-hand, boxing, karate, bow and arrow, guns, knife fighting and tracking were just a few of the skills their Dad had given them. The hand-to-hand had come in handy one night on campus when he and Jess had been returning home late one night from a movie. Two punks had tried to hold them up for money, each having a rather large sharp knife. Sam hadn't been afraid, in fact his first thought had been I've had better blades and they had been blessed by priests.
A tiny gasp from Jess as her grip tightened on his hand had brought him to reality. He gently moved her behind him keeping the two men in front of him. One of them lunged and Sam had deflected the move. In less than two minutes it was over and the two punks ran from him empty handed. Sam had turned and smiled at Jess to let her know that things were ok, but her face told him that something was very wrong. He looked down to see what she was looking at and found that he'd been cut during the fight. There was no pain, and he hadn't felt the knife slice his arm when he was fighting, but he knew as soon as the adrenaline had worn off it would hurt to high heaven. He waived off her concern telling her it was just a scratch, gave her a deep passionate kiss and they headed quickly to their apartment on campus. His cut wasn't important, Jess was and she hadn't been touched by the punks. That was all that mattered.
A familiar sadness began to fill him. He missed her. She was gone and wouldn't be coming back. He knew that, understood that, but it didn't mean that he didn't ache for her still.
He was pulled from his wandering thoughts as a scraping sound came from the door. Sam recognized the sound, someone was picking the lock. A jerky movement in his peripheral vision told him that Dean was awake and was already grasping his blade. The bolt slipped and unlocked with a soft click. Slowly the door creaked open and a tall dark silhouetted figure stepped into the room.
Dean struggled into a sitting position. Sam got out of bed and put a hand on his good shoulder to stop him.
"Hey Dad," Sam said softly and gave Dean's shoulder a small squeeze hoping to loosen the tension gathering there. Then he reached over and turned on the light.
To Be Continued