Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I don't own them, blah blah blah.
Author's Note:Thanks so much for all the reviews! They really do help. I know the last two chapters were really short, but this one is muchlonger. Hope everyone enjoys it!
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Pain woke him. Dean opened his eyes to bright lights and people standing over him. There was nothing but pain and the pressure of people pulling on his body. He started to panic, flailing his arms around.
"Where's Sammy? Where's my brother?" Dean screamed, jumping almost half way off the emergency room table before the doctors pulled him back on. "If you took him, I will kill you! I WILL KILL YOU!"
"I need restraints over here, stat! Dean felt his arms and legs being pulled down tightly by the leather straps. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. I'm no good to Sammy if I panic. And hyperventilating hurts too much right now. He slowly pulled on his wrists, testing the strength. He could hear his body shaking against the bed, the metal of the restraints clinking against the side bars.
"Dean, I need you to look at me now." Dean blinked, finding the source of the voice to his right. A doctor's head looked above him, smiling grimly.
"Where's Sam?" Dean whispered, as if afraid to be overheard.
"Was he the young man in the car with you?" Dean nodded. The doctor glanced at a nurse for a split second before looking down again. "I'm not sure where he is right now." The doctor was a horrible liar. But, as a doctor, he always tried to keep the bad news until after the patient was out of immediate danger. Unfortunately, being lied to was not what Dean wanted right now.
"You tell me where he is! You son of a bitch! You tell me!" Dean ripped at his restraints, fury and blood love fueling his aching body. He had more upper body strength than the doctors had thought. He heard something snap in the left arm, but kept flailing, desperate to wake up from this nightmare.
"Damn it, he broke his wrist on the restraint. I need a sedative now!" Dean's wild eyes saw the needle approaching, making him break out in a panic sweat.
"No, no, no, no please. Just give me Sammy back. Please." He felt a twinge of pain, quickly followed by a heavy blanket of sleep. "Please Sammy… I'm sorry."
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John Winchester ran into the hospital room, an almost maternal need to see his children overriding all other feelings, even the grief. He had just spoken to the doctor. Dean doesn't know yet. He looked at his son lying in the bed, covered in bruises. It wasn't anything new to see his son injured, but to know that it wasn't the results of a job made tears fill his eyes. Making sure his son wasn't conscious, he walked into the bathroom, needing a moment alone to collect himself. After a minute, he heard Dean rustle his bed sheets, beginning to wake. John hurried to his side, taking his hand. "Dean?"
"Sammy?" Dean winced at the sound of his voice, grating against his own ears. He turned his head toward his father, still unable to open his eyes.
"Dean, its Dad." Dean eyes snapped open and quickly scanned the room.
"Where's Sam? Is he okay? They wouldn't let me stay with him at the car. Dad, I think he might have a concussion." Dean rattled off the questions, oblivious to his father's expression of pain. "You gotta find him. He'll be scared to be alone." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And don't trust the doctors."
"Dean. Sammy… He…" Just tell him. Winchesters tell it how it is. It's better to find out sooner than later. "Sam didn't make it. He…" The tears started to well up again. "He died in the car."
Dean's round eyes stared at his father without expression. He blinked as if to wake from a dream. "No Dad, Sammy's hurt. He hit his head." He started pulling on his sheets, not knowing why he felt so wrong. "You should go check on him. So he doesn't worry."
John grabbed his shoulders, forcing Dean to look him in the eye. "Dean. Sam's dead. He isn't hurt, he's dead."
Realization hit Dean like a load of bricks. "No." Faster than John would have thought, he was out of the bed, stumbling into the hallway. He grabbed a passing nurse with his good arm, using her to support his body of screaming pain. "Samuel Winchester. I need to see him. What room?" He gasped, sweat running down his face in the effort to battle the pain in his back and legs.
"Dean!" John appeared in the doorway, moving to help the startled nurse. "It's okay Dean."
"No! You are lying!" Dean was bordering on hysterical. Faintly, he could hear a page for security over the hospital intercom. "Get away from me! YOU AREN'T TELLING ME THE TRUTH!" Doctors and police officers started to surround the young man, aware his mental state was slipping. Dean could barely stand; the pain was so much. Panic started setting in again. All he had left was his hunting instincts. He couldn't allow himself to be surrounded. The cast on his wrist was heavy. He could use it against them. They should have let him see Sammy.
In one last effort, he lunged at a doctor, trying to break through the human barrier. He hadn't moved more than a step before he fell to the floor, a combination of his legs giving out and the security guard grabbing him from behind. "NO! LET ME SEE SAMMY!" He started throwing punches, hitting anything that came within his reach. Feeling a pinch, he saw the needle enter his shoulder and darkness engulfed once again.
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John sat once again in his son's hospital room, his head in his hands. He hadn't moved in almost an hour, but was hardly aware of it. What happened? He had always entrusted Dean to watch out for his little brother. But something had gotten through; something had attacked them in that car and now… John shook his head, unable to even think the words. His eyes popped open and his head lifted as his son started shifting in the bed. He leaned over, placing his hand on the bed to alert the boy to his presence.
"Sammy?" John winced, pushing back tears that he didn't realize were there.
"No Dean. It's Dad. I'm here. It's going to be alright." Dean slowly opened his eyes, fighting against the sedative. "Dean, you have to stay calm now, okay?"
Dean barely acknowledged his father's presence as his eyes scanned the room. "Where's Sam?" Dean pulled himself up, or at least he tried. His eyes widened at the sight of the restraints around his arms, one extra wide to accommodate for the cast on his wrist. "Dad, what's going on?" His eyes burned into his father's, demanding an answer.
John sighed. "Dean, you are being restrained because this isn't the first time you've woken up since the crash." Dean blinked in confusion. "The accident was yesterday Dean. Now, you've got some bad injuries to your back and you need to heal."
"Dad, tell me what the hell is going on right now." His body began to shake in anger.
"Dean, every time you've woken up, you started attacking people. The doctors were afraid you would hurt yourself even more, or someone else." John paused, pulling himself together. Did he really not remember the dozen times I've told him this? "Every time I tell you, you lose it. Now I need you to stay with me this time and tell me what you remember from the accident. The police have questions. They are investigating the cause of the crash and I need to know what we are dealing with. A poltergeist? Demon? What?"
"Dad. What do you keep telling me?" A tear fell onto John's cheek, the pain of telling his son again almost unbearable.
"Sammy's dead, Dean." John closed his eyes, preparing for the on slaughter of screams and fury. Nothing came. John looked at his remaining son. Dean stared ahead, appearing catatonic until he whispered, "I remember. It's my fault."
John grabbed his shoulders. "It is not your fault. There is no way you could have stopped whatever it was that got into your car." Dean turned and looked at his father with an expression of dawning recollection.
"Dad, it was me." A tear fell from his eye. "We had just come from a bar. I… I thought I was okay to drive." John slowly retracted his hands from his son as he understood what he was saying. "Sam told me… but we were having a good night… I don't…" John stood, looming over the hospital bed. His words punctured the air like darts.
"You were driving drunk with Sammy in the car with you!" He didn't even realize he was screaming into Dean's face. "You were supposed to protect him, not kill him!" John leaned over his helpless son, his hands strangling dead air. "How could you be so stupid Dean!"
The tears were flowing freely from Dean now. "Dad, please." He could barely get the words out. "I didn't mean to. Please Dad."
John's fury shot through his eyes as he glared at his son. I can't deal with this. Not right now. Without another word, John Winchester turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Dean stared at his father's back. "Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't… It's my fault… I wasn't strong… DAD, DON'T LEAVE ME!" Dean screamed, unable to follow his remaining family. John turned the corner, leaving his only son tied to the bed.
I felt a bit ackward writing for John in this chapter, mostly because I wrote this before Dead Man's Blood aired, so we didn't have much of his character shown on the show. I tried my best, but I think he comes off a bit harsher than I originally meant to... but after DMB, it seems like John was kinda short with the boys, so I guess it works. Tell me what you think! R&R is always appreciated. I'll update when I can (I'm moving out of my apartment this week, so probably not for a while).