Pick Up the Pieces and Start Again


Chapter Two: Stubborn, who did he think he was calling stubborn?

Dean collapsed on the bed. A momentary relief washed over him. It was short-lived. He knew the Mambolin had messed up his leg, now he was just hoping he could sort it out on his own. If only he could convince Sammy to give him some time on his own. Knowing there was absolutely no chance of that, he suggested sleep.

But Sam wasn't biting…' No way. Not yet. Not until I've sorted your leg out.' Scratch that idea then. Sam wasn't going to go to sleep and Dean was realist enough not to hold out any hope of Sam leaving him alone now. Sam was a stubborn s.o.b. when he got his teeth stuck into something.

Sam flicked another light on and Dean moved trying to keep out of the light. He had a headache to top it all off. As his weight shifted, he winced and the nausea he'd felt earlier came back big time. Okay so maybe, Sam had a point; maybe he could do with a little help. 'Just pass me the first aid kit and I'll do it. In fact, just give me a hand to the bathroom and I'll do it there.'

Compromise. That was definitely the way to go. Surely Sam would see that and let a man retain some dignity. Okay so maybe it wasn't quite that straight forward, maybe he should be asking for help but Sammy would only worry if he saw the mess that used to be his leg.

'No, I'm doing it. I don't care what you say. I'm not giving in, you can be as stubborn as you like, but we're doing this my way. Come on, it'll be easier in the bathroom anyway, the light's better in there too. What have you been eating? You weigh a ton!'

Great, so now Sam thought he could call his brother stubborn did he? And as for weighing a ton, who did he think he was? Dean had looked in the mirror often enough to know that he was a fine physical specimen unlike his brother who could pass as cute but was gangly and lanky with really unnaturally long limbs. Nothing wrong with my figure went coursing through Dean's mind and came out as 'I do not. And it's got nothing to do with what I eat and everything to do with muscle. I'll have you know this body is a finely honed fighting machine.'

'A finely honed fighting machine that gets its fuel from burgers, fries and sodas. Would you even recognise a vegetable if one turned up on your plate? Come on, help me out here.'

Hell if he felt better he'd give Sam a piece of his mind, but right now, it was all he could do to stand up, staggering with Sam's help to the bathroom and not throw up on the way. What was with the nausea already? 'Dean, Dean, stay with me here man. Don't lose focus now.'

What the hell did Sam think he was doing? If he wasn't focusing right now, he'd be a lump on the floor and he'd definitely be throwing up. Focus, ass. He gulped again, one hand going to his mouth reflexively. Oh he so wasn't going there. He just had to FOCUS! It wasn't that hard.

'Is it that bad?'

Stupid question right now Sam, I'm trying to focus here, just quit talking to me, the thoughts trailed sluggishly through his head as he answered, 'Not great Sam, not great,' Relief washed over him as he sat down onto the toilet seat. 'That helps.' He could see his brother's eyes. God how much did he hate that look.

'I'm sorry Dean but we're going to have to get your jeans off, so I can get at it properly.'

Dean nodded an acknowledgement. Taking a deep breath, he loosened the button then pulled himself up. 'Go and get the kit from the car. I'll be ready when you get back. Go Sam, this bit I can manage and if I don't you know where you'll find me,' ironically enough, even as he pointed at the floor trying to make light of the situation, he figured it was actually becoming not just a possibility but a likelihood.

He knew Sam wasn't happy but was relieved to see him go anyway and as soon as he turned to go, Dean bit his lip to hold back the cry that he was fairly sure was going to want out and with that dragged his jeans down over the wound in his leg quickly.

Yep, that was the floor alright, he'd seen worse. In fact, he'd seen worse close up before now. Anyway he had to pull himself together and assess the damage pretty quick or Sam would be back. Shit! It was a mess. He pulled a towel down and hid it but it wasn't enough, the nausea got the better of him and he began to retch. As the wave passed, he leant back against the bath and passed his hand wearily over his face.

'You fell?' so Sammy was back. If he'd just pass that first aid kit over, then Dean thought he might be able to tackle his leg if he could just get a couple of the good painkillers inside him. Of course, he'd have to be quick, because they were also likely to knock him out.

For now, he just needed to stick with the banter and convince Sam there was nothing to worry about. 'Not exactly. It was just easier to be here and throwing up than there. I think I ate something off earlier.'

'Do you indeed? No way, it could be shock or pain or maybe that thing had poisonous claws? What do you reckon Dean? It couldn't possibly be anything to do with the fact that you have a whopping great hole in your leg now, could it?' He could hear it loud and clear, Sammy was pissed and who could blame him. Fucking disaster of a big brother and the poor sod had been lumbered big time. The tiles on the floor really were worth examining, anything was worth it so long as he didn't have to look at Sam. Right now, he didn't want to see the look of disappointment and irritation, he knew it was well-deserved but he just couldn't face it. 'Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just, I hate to see you hurt.'

Too soft, that was his brother's problem. One thing Dean knew he hadn't earned was sympathy; he'd got hurt because he'd made a mistake and put his brother in danger. It was the least he'd deserved, Sam should have stayed at Stanford, instead he'd let Dean ruin his life but right now, he didn't have the energy to try and sum up this or any other response for Sam. 'Yeah me too.'

'You managed to get your jeans off I see. You gonna hitch round let me see your leg?'

'No, it's okay. It's not as bad as you thought now I've seen it. I can manage, just leave me the stuff. I'll give you a shout if I need you; pull the door to behind you.' Just accept the lie Sammy; you don't want to see what a mess I'm in, what a mess I've made.

'I think not. This leg that is supposedly not as bad as I think has already bled through the towel you've covered it with Dean. Now let me see, let me put us both out of our misery.' As Sam reached out to grab his foot Dean could see the intention to move it but Sam's hand had barely brushed it before agony shot through his foot and up his leg, 'Aargh! Watch it! Don't grab at me like that!' He wished he could pretend he was over-reacting but the reality was the whole leg now felt like pure fire.

'Dean, I only touched it, sure I was going to move it but I didn't, let me see because if it hurt that much it isn't good.' Sam had a point. Finally accepting and admitting that he wasn't going to be able to handle it himself, Dean turned his body towards his brother, dragging the offending leg round, then clamped his hand over his mouth, breathing rapidly through his nose trying desperately to calm his stomach, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Dean was aware of his brother's eyes watching, wary and concerned, 'You okay?' Dean forced his breathing to slow and gradually the nausea abated. 'You ready for me to start?' Sam was waiting for an answer, Dean knew he had to make some kind of indication. No, it was no good, all he could manage was the barest of nods before sinking back against the bath and closing his eyes.

'Oh God.' Sam's exclamation had Dean bolting upright again and his eyes momentarily catching Sam's before his head dropped back again and the beads of sweat appearing on his forehead appeared to intensify.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to think of anything other than what was happening with his leg. His brother's hands were sure and quick, gentle and thorough but they couldn't stop it hurting and they couldn't take away the nausea he was fighting. What would Dad say 'Suck it up, soldier. A little pain never did anyone any real harm. Don't show signs of weakness, it'll never get you anywhere. ' Right now, Dean considered all the comments particularly futile and it had been a good job nothing hurt this much when his Dad had said them because he figured he might have been the one to argue back and he might have gone off to College ahead of Sammy.

Sam was watching him again. It was funny how he could tell even with his eyes shut. The only thing worse than Sammy watching, was Sammy thinking and right now Dean was pretty sure that he was doing both. What was the guy's problem, he was sitting as still and quiet as he could, he had made very little complaint despite the agony he was in. He hadn't even asked for the painkillers (although that could have been a mistake in hindsight – mind you the way his stomach felt right now, he'd be lucky if he kept any down long enough for them to work). The wound was angry and not only had it gone straight through just near the knee but in part it was long as if the creature had dragged the claw along the edge of the bone and muscle and it felt like Sam was taking an eternity to fix it back up. Realistically, Dean knew that he was working as swiftly as he could, cleaning it as best he could trying not to cause any more pain but Dean wasn't actually in a position to acknowledge any of that right now. It wasn't quick or gentle enough as suddenly, Dean shot up from his resting position, shoving him away with a warning sob of 'Sam!' before starting to retch into the toilet again.

'Hey, just breathe', Dean could hear Sam's calming words and tried to relax as he felt his brother rubbing circles on his back until the retching calmed, then Sam helped to ease him back to the position he'd had before. This sucked. He heard Sam stand up and fetch water and a damp facecloth. Dean sipped a little of the water gratefully before Sam took the glass back and placed the cloth on Dean's forehead and looked at his eyes. Dean knew he was struggling to stay focused but it was just too difficult right now and if he passed out, well what the hell…

He struggled to pull himself together for Sam's sake if nothing else. 'You going to get on with it?' Dean's voice was gravely and uncertain.

'Sure. You'll be fine.'

'Course I will. I've got an ace lawyer sorting my leg out what more could I ask for?' he'd heard the concern in Sam's voice and would have done anything to take it away, right now wit was the best effort he could go with and he wasn't convinced he'd done very well with that.

'Hmm. Very witty Dean. Now just try and hold still.'

'Not going anywhere, bro. not going anywhere.' He was exhausted and grateful that Sam turned back to his leg.

'What the hell?' Sam's outburst brought his focus back again.

As his brother moved to retrieve the tweezers from the box lying between them, Dean's hand dropped on top of his. Dean waited until Sam looked up and into his eyes before he forced out the single word query, 'What?'

'I don't know. There's something in there. I'm going to have to get it out. I'll be as quick as I can but I need to make sure it's all clean.' Dean swallowed slowly and nodded. Sam turned back with the tweezers and dug straight into the wound, wincing himself as he heard Dean's sharp intake of breath. He pulled out the offending item, relieved to see it come out in one piece so he didn't have to dig around too much more. It was still too much for Dean who pushed him feebly away as he started to retch again. Nothing left now, but bile, anxiety and pain. Sam waited, supporting his brother's weight as he seemed to get weaker with each stomach convulsion. Eventually it stopped and Dean leant back again allowing Sam to continue with the work on his leg.

Fortunately, the worst of it was over and Sam was able to clean it up and stitch the edges together rapidly and without further incident. Dean could sense the relief rippling outwards from his brother as he finished and rocked back onto his heels, 'Done. You're all good now. Let's go and get you into bed.'

'Sam?' Dean knew this was going to be more trouble, but right now he was going to have to own up to needing Sam to do something more for him.

'Yeah Dean, it's me. I've finished your leg. Let's get you up.'

'No. I need…' if only Sam would listen…

'Come on bro, let me tell you what you don't need. You don't need to spend any more time sitting on this floor; you need to lie down in bed.'

'I need you to…' he tried again. God it was so hard to think and Sam just kept on interrupting.

'Come on Dean.'

He tried again, 'Sam! Stop!' and with that Dean began to struggle with his t-shirt.

'Dean, what is it?' Sam knelt down again to help where his brother seemed to be struggling to co-ordinate his limbs. 'Shit! It got you there as well. You didn't say anything.'

'Not as bad.' Relief the t-shirt was off and well what was Sammy going to do about it, right now, he didn't care what Sam did so long as he helped clean it up because Dean was admitting that he couldn't do it.

'You weren't going to tell me about this bit were you? You've only told me 'cos the other bit was so bad you can't do it yourself. I don't get you at all, man.' Dean sighed and was surprised to hear his brother do the same. The scratches were nowhere near as bad as the leg wound and Sam made quick work of cleaning and covering them before helping Dean up from the floor and through to the bed.

'Cold.' It was an understatement, right now Dean was freezing and he was also weak and tired.

'I'll get you a t-shirt from your bag, just hold on.' Sam turned and grabbed Dean's bag setting it down on his own bed, rummaging through looking for a loose fit t-shirt. He passed over an old but clean Metallica t-shirt and helped Dean get it on. 'Don't lie down just yet, I'll get you some painkillers first.' Now that was a good suggestion, probably the best Dean had heard in a while.


Author's Note: Please do review and let me know what you think. This is also where I say a special thank you to Rae Artemis for her betaing and putting me right when I write too much in English English - if you know what I mean