Sam sat at Dean's bedside surfing the net, using the hospital's available wi-fi network. He needed to find everything he could about lycanthropes. After dinner last night Dr. Connors walked the younger man back to his brothers room. A cot had been placed along the wall. Dr. Connors shrugged.
"It's a small hospital and our rules are a bit slack." The doctor cleared his throat. "The nurses don't want to see you sleeping in those awful chairs."
Sam was grateful. After checking Dean he stretched out on the bed and promptly fell asleep. A kind nurse woke him in the morning and showed him the doctor's lounge where he could take a shower. Now that half the older nursing staff had fed him, Sam was ready to get to work.
The former college student started with the journal. John had a number of pages devoted to lycanthropes. Their dad listed the different forms and cultural beliefs of these shape shifters. The one that interested Sam was the Navajo skinwalker. They could take on the shape of any animal. The Navajo believed the skinwalkers were witches. The werebeast that bit Dean was no witch, but it had been a female. John Winchester had collected every means to hunt and kill the beasts but nothing to turn them back to a human. There wasn't anything useful to help Sam figure out if his brother was infected or not. If only Dean would wake up he'd know what to do.
Sam closed his eyes for only a moment when he heard the door open. Two orderlies were pushing in a gurney followed by Dr. Connors.
"What's going on?" Sam asked in alarm.
"Everything's cool," Mike assured him. "I just want to take Dean for a MRI and a CAT scan."
"Why?"
"I just want to make sure the bones we set haven't shifted." The doctor explained. "Also want to see what's going on with that head wound."
"I'm coming."
Dr. Connors just smiled expecting the younger brother to tag along. The two orderlies carefully lifted Dean on to the gurney and got him settled. As they were straitening the IV lines Sam couldn't help thinking how vulnerable the older hunter looked. Everything was just wrong. His big brother wasn't supposed to look like this.
An hour later Dean was back in his room. Sam was typing away again at the computer with no luck. The failure to find anything useful was starting to get on his nerves. Sighing, he shut down the computer and studied his brother. The heart monitor beat steadily, lulling Sam to sleep. He was dozing lightly when the door was pushed open again. The younger hunter was instantly on his feet in a protective stance in front of his brother.
"Whoa," Dr. Connors said, stopping just inside the door. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"Sorry," Sam replied, rubbing his eyes. "I didn't sleep much last night."
"I know you're worried about your brother but you really need to get some sleep."
Sam just looked at the doctor and said nothing. Dr. Connors shook his head and flipped open the folder he had in his hand. "The test all came back satisfactory. The broken bones are where they should be and there's no evidence of a subdural hematoma."
"That's great," the youngest Winchester smiled. "But why is he still unconscious?"
"I'm not too worried about that yet," Dr. Connors explained. "Head traumas can be tricky."
"Yeah, leave it my jerk brother to go hit his head," Sam sighed. "Surprised he didn't break the tree."
"Come on, I'll buy you lunch."
"It's okay," Sam said, shaking his head. "I'm going to go out, get some air. Need to make a phone call."
"If you feel like getting some food the diner across the street serves a really good burger."
The youngest Winchester watched as the doctor left then turned back to his brother. "I'll be back."
Sam walked out of the hospital and squinted as the sun hit his eyes. The perfect day only made the dark –haired man angrier as he walked over to the Impala. Life wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to be sitting around a hospital room waiting for his brother to wake up. The need to hit something was so overwhelming that Sam let his aggressions out on one of the tires of the Impala. As soon as he did it he knew it was childish. If Dean had been there he would have smacked Sam in the back of the head. The image made the younger man laugh as he sat on the hood of the car. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and sighed. There were no missed calls. The night before he'd phoned their dad, but didn't expect a reply. Hell, John hadn't even called the last time when Dean was dying. Why would he call now? There was only one other person that might be able to help. He found the number in his contacts and hit the send button.
"Hello."
Sam's composure dissolved at the familiar voice. "Mac."
"Samuel?" Mac asked. He could hear the anguish in the boy's voice.
"Yeah, it's Sam."
"We haven't heard from you in awhile
"I know," Sam sighed. "Mac, I need some help. Dean's been hurt."
"Where's your father?"
"Who the hell knows!" Sam said, angrily. "He left us a few weeks ago in Chicago."
"I see," Mac answered. "Where are you now?"
"We're in Salem, Maine," Sam explained. "We were hunting a lycanthrope. It doubled back on us and Dean was hurt."
"How bad?"
"Broken femur, four broken ribs, a green tree fracture to his right collar bone and more staples then I can remember," Sam sighed. "And a concussion he hasn't awakened from yet."
"When did this happen?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
"Its not unusual for someone to stay unconscious this long from a head trauma."
"I know."
"Sam, what's wrong?" Mac prompted, evidently sensing something amiss.
"Reading my mind over the phone," Sam asked, smiling.
"Not hardly," Mac said, indignantly. "Now out with it."
"God, Mac, I don't know what to do," Sam broke down. "Dean was bitten. It wasn't a wolf, but a mountain lion. I've searched for cures to the bite of a lycanthrope, but I can't find anything. Dad's journal is useless! All he has is how to kill them. Would it kill him to gather information that would help someone? Does it always have to be about killing something…"
"Sam!" Mac could hear the youngest Winchester loosing it. The situation was serious if Sam let his emotions shows this much. "Tell me what the doctors said about Dean's head injury."
"They took him for a CAT scan and MRI this morning," Sam said. "Dr. Connor said there was no evidence of a subdural hematoma."
"That's good," Mac said.
"But why is he still unconscious?"
"The brain is a mystery, Sam," Mac explained. "Dean's injuries are serious. His body is just trying to recuperate."
"So he'll wake up?"
"Yes, he will."
Dr. Connor's had been telling Sam the same thing, but he couldn't bring himself to believe. When Mac said it, it was different. He had known Mac, since he was little and trusted him.
"What do we do about the bite?"
"I'll be honest, I don't know much about that," The older doctor replied subdued. "But we'll figure it out. I promise. Give me the name of the hospital and the physician treating Dean."
Sam gave Mac the information he requested and felt relief as he said goodbye to the family friend. Sam put his phone back into his coat pocket. The sun felt good beating down on the hood of the Impala. Smiling, Sam stretched out in the sun with his hands behind his head. Sharing all of this with Mac shook loose the helplessness he'd felt. Now they just had to wait for Dean to wake up.