Chapter 4 – Making the Decision should have been the Hard Part, Shouldn't it?


Disclaimer: Neither Sam, Dean nor Supernatural are in anyway mine (unfortunately) – see E. Kripke and CW for ownership details.

Summary: A companion piece to the end of 'A Letter Home'

Rating: Some bad language

Author's Note: Thanks to Rae Artemis for her help as beta.

Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks.


Sam left the envelope with his first and last letters (the only ones he had never sent) on the nightstand by his brother's bed. He hoped it was the right thing to do; maybe it would go someway to healing the rift that had developed between them.

He checked on Dean once more before heading off to get ready for bed himself. As he came out of the bathroom, he decided to leave the light on with the door ajar. It would cast just enough light for him to check on Dean without being enough to disturb their sleep.

With that Sam drifted into an exhausted sleep of his own. And so for a couple of hours, all was quiet in the motel room, as both brothers slept the sleep of the just. However, appearances can be deceiving and things with the Winchesters are never simple.

It was about three when Dean half-woke, aware only of the pain in his leg and the heat. He felt like he was in a furnace. He rolled over and tried to throw the covers off but as his back hit the mattress, he jerked upwards, aware of a new pain. The same sensation but not quite as intense as the one in his leg. God, it was hot in here. Convinced he needed to do something, anything to get the heat in the room down he moved round to get up.

He rose carefully, adjusting his weight to his sound leg. Taking a deep breath he set off for the air-conditioning controls and the bathroom in search of cold water. Three steps, it was becoming a habit, three steps and that was it. He felt himself begin to fall, in fact crumple would have been a more accurate description, another habit in the waiting. He tried to angle himself to Sam's bed for a softer landing – sure Sam would be pissed but he'd live with it.

Well he would have done had he landed where he intended… but he missed, succeeding only in grabbing a handful of the comforter from Sam's bed and banging his head against the bed frame.

'What the…? Dean?' Sam shot up, looking at Dean's bed to see it empty, no sign he'd made it to the bathroom either, Sam looked to the direction the comforter had gone, Dean lay inert and silent on the floor at the end of the bed, his body in part concealed by the bed itself. Sam dived down to join him, flicking the bedside light on as he went. 'What were you doing?'

Dean was silent and unmoving. Sam rolled his body over registering the heat pouring off of him. Clothes, not sticky with sweat, were another bad sign and a growing crimson patch on the bandages round his leg was also a worry.

'Why didn't you call me? Now look, you've opened the wound on your leg again.' It was easier to tell him off now when there were no smart retorts and it helped Sam get it out of his system before his brother was listening and got riled. He thought back to earlier in the evening when he had been ranting at Dean about throwing up, Dean's expression, the way he had hung his head, the aura of defeat and failure etched in the lines of his body. It was definitely better for them both if Sam got the rant out of his system while Dean couldn't hear him. They didn't need anything more between them. Sam had made a promise that he was going to heal the rift that had grown between them, not make it worse, but Dean really knew how to make a man suffer to keep his promise, even when he didn't know about the promise!

Having moved Dean to a less obviously painful position, Sam stood up, flicking on more lights and retrieved water and the first aid kit from the bathroom. As he returned, he caught sight of a crimson stain on Dean's bed. 'Well, that's not good bro, but I take back what I said, maybe it's why you fell rather than it opening again because you fell. I'm going to have to take another look whatever…'

Still no response. The increased light helped Sam see a whole new catalogue of injuries, a trickle of blood down the side of Dean's face could be traced back up to a small cut which accompanied a growing egg and what looked like it was going to be an impressive bruise marred the underside of his bicep. 'Ouch! You really know how to accumulate injuries don't you Dean? I'd have thought you had enough earlier in the evening, but here you are with a new set to accompany them.' Sam wondered whether Dean had knocked himself unconscious on the fall or whether he had lost consciousness before. His breathing was fine, deep and even, which was one good sign. He fetched ice from the machine which was fortunately not far from their door and wrapped some in a towel and held it to his brother's head. As the cold seeped through, Sam received his first good sign as Dean tried to flinch away. He didn't seem to have the energy to make any real effort to escape but at least the response showed he was not deeply unconscious, although Sam still wanted him to wake up so he could check on him properly. He replaced the ice with a wet cloth that he had soaked in the ice, figuring it might stay there a while without him holding it, allowing him to work on Dean's leg.

He began to unwind the bandage from Dean's leg and as each layer came off, the stain grew. It had obviously been seeping from the wound for a while. The heat coming from Dean's body was amazing; he was going to have to get Dean's temperature down. One job at a time though, first priority was going to have to be stopping this bleeding. As the last of the bandage came away from the wound, Sam gasped. He thought it had looked angry before, but now he didn't have the words to describe what he saw. He cut away the stitches and started cleaning the wound out again – he was sorely tempted just to take Dean to the nearest E.R. but he wasn't convinced that they'd be able to do anymore for it unless…

Nothing in life is simple, he reflected. He'd make a decision and Dean knew just how to stop him carrying through with it. Having decided he would take Dean to the hospital, Dean picked that point to wake up, 'Whatcha doing?' he croaked hoarsely.

'Hey! You're back. What were you up to?'

'When?'

'Before you hit the floor face down?' Sam continued cleaning as they talked, glancing up to see the confused expression on his brother's face.

'I don't know. It's kinda hot in here. Why'd you turn the heating up? You that cold?'

'No man. You're that hot and not in a good way. Hold still, your leg's a mess.' He had finished cleaning it up, and proceeded to douse it with holy water for good measure and before starting to re-stitch it.

'It's hot in here, Sammy.' Dean looked at his brother where he was leant over. 'Whatcha doing?'

'What? Dean, we've just had this conversation. Are you okay?'

'I feel kinda hot.'

'Yeah. Just hold still another minute and we'll try and cool you down.'

'Are you hot too?'

'No, Dean. It's just 'cos you're not well.'

'I'm not? What happened?'

'Don't you remember? You were injured. I'm cleaning your leg out again, you were losing blood again.'

'Sam?'

'Yeah.'

'I don't feel so good.'

'I bet.'

'I'm hot and…' Sam sighed, this was not good. 'I think I'm going to…' Dean's hand clamped on his mouth before he said anything more. Sam reached for the trash can, handing it over just in time as Dean began to retch. It didn't last long, he'd got nothing left but bile and he was so exhausted that his body couldn't summon the energy for even the retching anymore. He slumped against the bed.

'You okay?'

'Not really. You finished?'

'Just need to wrap your leg. You want some water?'

'Uh-huh.' His eyes were half closed.

'Stay awake for now, Dean. Talk to me.'

'Lonely bro.' his hand shook as he took the water cup from Sam and water sloshed over the side, 'Fuck.'

'Let me help you.'

'I'm sorry Sam.'

'What for?'

'You were pissed at me earlier. I can't remember right now why but I'm sorry.'

'No. It's okay Dean, we're okay. Now come on drink some of this.' Moving to sit by Dean, Sam took hold of his hands and held them steady while he sipped at the water. When after a few sips, he made to put the cup down, Sam said, 'No you need to drink more than that. Come on. Slowly's fine but you've got to keep at it.'

'You can be a real mother hen, Sam.'

'Yeah, I know.' Sam was relieved the longer he kept Dean talking the more coherent he seemed to be. 'You're still kind of hot… How about sucking on some ice chips, it might help your throat as well.'

He got another cup and fetched some more ice. On his return, he put it by his brother and reached for the ice he had brought earlier, replacing the ice that had been wrapped in a towel and lifting it back to the bump on Dean's head. 'So…'

'Sam?'

'Yeah.'

'What did I do?'

'What did you do? When?'

'Before. To piss you off.'

'What do you remember Dean?'

'You were at Stanford. I came and got you. I'm sorry.'

'Dean, is that the last thing you remember?' This was beginning to look really bad. If that was the last thing Dean remembered he'd lost almost a year's worth of memories.

'No. You cleaned my leg before, there were mirrors and your eyes were…, I fell outside, someone drowned, I've thrown up before, the Impala its lights I had to replace, Jessica, you stitched my leg already, not just now, before, Dad, his face, Sam, I… You're… I'm sorry. It's all confused. I'm sorry.' His voice, croaked and sore as it was, was reaching a panic level Sam didn't associate with his normally very together brother.

'Hey, calm down. Breathe, it's okay, just breathe, everything will be fine.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Stop saying that Dean. You don't need to be sorry for anything.'

'It's all so confused. I can't get it straight. Sam…'

'Sssh! Just breathe. We'll sort it all out, don't worry.' Sam kept his voice calm, trying to reassure Dean. He figured he could worry enough for the two of them on his own anyway. The good thing was Dean obviously remembered plenty of the events over the last year even if they were all jumbled. 'You feel up to getting back into bed?'

'I don't… Sure…'

Sam looked at him, wondering what he'd been going to say. 'Hold on here, I'll just sort it so you can rest.' He stripped the bloodied sheet and replaced it with the top sheet before fixing the other covers back.

'Sam?'

'Yeah?'

'You going?'

'Going?'

'Yeah.'

'Going where Dean?'

'Away. Going back to Stanford.'

'Not tonight Dude. It's way too late,' he tried to make light of the conversation, Dean wasn't really in a fit state for the heart-to-heart they needed to have.

'So you are going back.' His voice was calm, distant and Sam couldn't bear it.

Moving back, he knelt in front of his brother, 'Look at me, I'm not leaving you, whatever happens, I'm not leaving you Dean. Now come on, that's enough of that sort of talk, let's get you up and onto the bed where it's more comfortable.' And with that he helped Dean back to bed. As he turned to retrieve the water and the ice, he saw the envelope. He picked it up and moved it away, he'd wait until Dean was better then they'd sort this out. In the meantime, he'd just make sure that Dean was okay.