Chapter 19

Dean raced frantically through the same streets he had driven a little more than a few hours before as his brother lay silently beside him. He took a corner a bit too fast and had to adjust by slamming on the brakes. Sam's unconscious body slid forward towards the dash. Dean reached out and pulled his brother over to him, resting Sam's head beside his leg.

"Hold on, Sammy, hold on" he begged his brother, placing his hand on Sam's shoulder trying to keep his wounded sibling from moving too much with the jerking of the car. He lifted the t-shirt, bloodied from Sam's nose earlier, to check his little brother's neck where it was bleeding. It didn't appear to be too serious, but Dean wasn't taking any chances and reapplied pressure.

"You're gonna be okay…you hear me, little brother? We're almost there." Dean offered to his wounded sibling hoping his words might reach into Sam's oblivion and offer him some hope.

Within minutes, Dean pulled up to the emergency room, jumped out and started hollering for help. A wave of medics washed over to him and began attending to Sam. Dean followed behind as they rushed him into the building and through the triage doors which swung unfeeling once again cutting off his contact with his brother.

Dean stood confused outside the sterile doors. Worried, relieved, exhausted, and pained, he found a chair and sank down in it. His muddy body, though seemingly noticed by everyone who looked at him, made no impression on his mind. In fact nothing was happening in his mind at all. It was blank. Everything stopped until he knew Sammy was okay.

The clock on the wall ticked nonchalantly as it added up its minutes completed, in anticipation of chiming its next hour. Its chime boldly pronounced one hour and later two, but the empty hunter, now turned brother whose mind had shut down, heard neither of them.

Just as the clock prepared for its next proclamation, Dean was approached. The doctor, knowing from experience who to talk to, had walked over and was beginning to take the seat next to Dean.

Looking up, Dean was surprised to see it was the same doctor who had treated Sam in triage before, after Sam's memory of his torture at the hands of Denton had returned. He wiped his muddy hand across his weary face and braced himself for what was to come.

"Your brother is resting"

Dean knew that's always how it started, your loved one was resting, and then the list of damages would follow. He listened in fear.

"Your brother's nose is broken, his arm and some of his ribs are re-broken, and he has two new cracked ones, but amazingly there were no internal injuries, which is good.

Dean took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The list was not surprising after all Sam had been through, but it still hurt to hear it….broken, broken, broken. The word just rattled around in Dean's heart. God, Sammy'd been through a lot. And, on top of that, Dean could only imagine the damage his brother had incurred emotionally, trapped in Denton's grave with his ghost. He had seen his brother lying, defeated on the coffin, retching, and begging for help...broken. The image overwhelmed him and his eyes teared up.

"Shit" Dean exclaimed unexpectedly, upset for Sammy and angry that he wasn't able to hold it together in front of the doctor. He attempted to cover his emotional release. "No internal injuries…good" he repeated back.

At least something was good. Dean waited for the doctor to continue, sensing there was more to come and fearing whether it would be more of what the doctor defined as good or whether the bad was now on its way.

The doctor, a bit surprised by Dean's expletive, but taking an immediate liking to the muddied man that sat before him, continued.

"We removed the splinters that had embedded in his neck and sutured where necessary. There's no arterial or deep tissue damage, which is also good. "

Dean nodded again…okay, more of the supposedly "good stuff"…then he waited for the ball to drop. He knew doctors always tell you the "good" stuff first, and then lay the life threatening shit right after and give you an arbitrary percentage number that's supposed to tell you whether or not your world will come crashing down. He looked down at his muddied knees and waited for the dreaded number.

The doctor, noticing Dean's demeanor, began to reassure him.

"That was the 'bad news'" he said softly. "The good news is that your brother's collapse was caused mostly by exhaustion, which, with rest, can be easily overcome."

Easily overcome…the words washed over Dean like a Peppermint Patty…cool and refreshing, bringing relief to his soul.

"He must have overexerted himself when he……."

The doctor paused not knowing the cause of Sam's new injuries.

"….fell" Dean interjected, unprepared for the question , realizing a battle with a dead man's sadistic ghost probably wouldn't be received well and not wanting to end up in the psychiatric ward himself.

The doctor looked at Dean, surprised that a fall could cause such injuries.

"down the …motel stairs" Dean added glancing down and to the right.

The doc raised his eyebrows and cocked his head.

"into the street …where… he….. got… hit… by a car" Dean offered glancing up to check the good doc's reaction.

The doc furrowed his eyebrows and looked questioningly down at Dean's muddy clothes.

"and … thrown… into a mud puddle?" Dean eked out, hoping the doctor would buy it but realizing someone as intelligent as to have a medical degree probably wouldn't.

"Wow. Now that's having a bad day." He replied eying Dean suspiciously thinking that the boys had probably been foolishly dirt biking at night where they shouldn't have been.

"Well, just make sure you get a room on the first floor next time" the doctor cautioned, "…away from any stairs or vehicles or I'll have to report the incident to the authorities".

Dean got the message loud and clear. Next time he or Sammy needed medical attention….. choose a different hospital….not that Dean was EVER going to let his little brother anywhere near trouble… again…. for a very long time...okay, for as long as he lived.

Dean looked back at the doctor. He offered no additional information and no percentage number. He had feared his brother would need life saving surgery, the removal of some important organ that would change his life forever, or at least a lengthy stay in the hospital. Granted his injuries happened at night and he hadn't actually seen the physical harm Denton had done to his brother, but still, Dean had expected worse. The news, at least the physical well being news, was good.

"So, that's it?

"That's it, unless you need us to take a look at you."

"No, I'm good" Dean replied. Compared to Sammy, he was good.

"How long in the hospital?"

"He'll be released later this afternoon if there are no changes or concerns. He's going to need a SAFE, quiet place to rest and at least 2-3 weeks of little to no activity to recover. The bones will take 6-8 weeks to completely heal so …. No "stairs" for a while."

"Yes, sir" Dean replied in response to the authoritative tone the doctor used.

A nurse scurried out of the emergency room and beckoned for the doctor and he excused himself.

"Hey" Dean called after him jumping up. "Can I see him?"

"They're casting him now." The doctor answered and looked at the muddy mess standing before him. "Might be best if you wait until he comes out."

Dean smiled embarrassingly as he glanced down at his appearance.

"I think… I'll….go….get washed up and come back." Dean announced awkwardly.

The doctor nodded thinking that was a very good idea and turned to go.

"He'll be alright while I'm gone?" Dean called after him feeling uncomfortable leaving Sam alone in the hospital, but wanting to clean up so he could be at his side.

The amused doctor smiled. "We'll try to take care of him until you get back."

"Oh, right"….Dean laughed with his crooked smile…. " you being a hospital and all…"

"Yeah… and all" the doctor replied amusingly.

Dean smiled awkwardly and left.

An hour later, Dean returned ready to be whatever Sam needed…a helper, a listener, a cheerleader…God, he hoped he didn't have to go there, a friend, a brother, a father…whatever. He wasn't sure what to expect. He dreaded seeing his little brother broken once again on the outside with more bruises, stitches and cuts. Hell, the kid was already a walking insurance advertisement. The thought saddened him and though he would rarely admit it, Sam's pain was his own and it would actually hurt to see him suffering again.

Then, add to that, there were the hidden injuries, the unseen ones, the emotional ones, whose wounds would take a lot more time to heal and leave bigger scars. Dean had no idea the effects they would have on Sammy. More nightmares? Paralyzing fears in the middle of hunts? Dean wasn't even sure Sam would ever be able to hunt again…not that he would let him.

Then Dean began to think back over the past few weeks and took hope. They had begun the process of healing, having talked, teared, laughed and played together. Sam had made good progress. Dean would do whatever it took for however long Sammy needed it to get him back. He would comfort him after the nightmares and hell, even give up hunting if he had to. Together, they would sort things out, heal, and move ahead.

After checking in with the Emergency Room desk, he was taken back to see his brother. Sam lay behind a curtain, wrapped tightly in a white blanket, on a gurney. He was awake though clearly sedated. Swollen and bruised, Sam's face was a mess and very painful looking. His eyes and nose were blackened from the blood that had collected around them. He had a large gash on his forehead and his lip was split. A big gauze pad lay across his neck, bloodied from the seepage of his injury. The only things that escaped the sterile white blanket that hugged him were his newly casted arm and the tubes and wires on either side of him keeping track of his well being, beeping and pinging out his stats.

Dean's stomach dropped as he took in his little brother's frail form on the bed before him. He looked so beaten down, so vulnerable. He and Sam had survived many a beating over the years, but this was different, worse because it was compounded with prior injuries and the emotional pain that was yet to be uncovered.

"Damn" he softly whispered.

Having heard the curtain being drawn back, its metal clips sliding along the track, and the sound of his brother's voice, Sam opened his eyes.

"Hey" Dean 'pinged' compassionately as he closed the curtain to offer his brother some privacy.

"Hey" Sam 'pinged' back.

Dean moved in closer and rested his hand on Sam's unbroken arm. He placed his other hand gently on Sam's head with his thumb on his forehead. It was a tender thing to do and Sam welcomed his brother's comfort. Sam turned his head into his brother's hand.

"You okay?" Dean answered hesitantly, feeling his voice crack slightly.

Sam nodded, blinking slowly. He looked up at his brother's bruised face and head. The image of Dean slamming into the monument and being buried alive flashed in his mind.

"You" he asked quietly

"I'm always okay" Dean responded with a crooked smile and a twinkle in his eye. He removed his hand from his brother's head and pulled up a chair, close so as to be able to keep contact with Sam's arm. It was more for himself than for Sam, but he did it anyways.

"Yeah" Sam snorted softly and then winced when his ribs didn't appreciate his quick exhalation.

"Easy, Sammy. Didn't the doctor tell you?... No snorting at your big brother? At least not until you're better, anyways."

Sam smiled and then paused.

"Can we go now, Dean?" Sam asked vulnerably, almost pleadingly, searching his brother's eyes.

"I don't know, Sam…… Soon I guess."

Dean noted the look in his brother's eyes. It wasn't really a question. Sam wanted out.

"What's the hurry?" Dean asked gently.

"I just want to get out of here, Dean." Sam said sadly.

Sam just wanted his body to be his own once again, not an object to be tortured or prodded and poked by a hospital. He wanted to be back at "home" with is brother where things were 'normal', where he felt safe and he was an equal with Dean, not the helpless victim he had become. His eyes implored and Dean heard their unspoken cry. It pained Sam to be there and Dean could see that. His brother didn't just want to leave, he needed to.

"Yeah, okay. I'll see what I can do" he replied tapping Sam's arm gently before disappearing behind the curtain.

Dean nodded and left to get the nurse. After a lengthy conversation, he convinced the staff to release Sam.

Upon reappearing, Sam reopened his eyes and looked hopefully at his brother.

"You're good" Dean replied smiling, having once again come to the rescue.

Sam nodded and gave a heartfelt, "Thanks, Dean".

Dean mirrored and smiled, pleased he had lifted at least one of his little brother's burdens.

They waited for a bit in silence knowing the nurses would soon be in to get Sam out.

Sam finally closed his eyes, assured of his brother's presence and the promised release that was on its way.

It wasn't long before the staff came back to finish Sam's care. Dean had to sign a ton of papers, again, but he didn't mind. It was for a good cause.

Then, when it was time, he stepped out to let them unplug and unhook his brother and went to wait in the lounge just outside the emergency ward. He took a seat near the door. Upon glancing up, he saw a lot of faces in front of him: sad faces, worried faces, tired faces, and despairing faces. He almost felt like he didn't belong because none of these faces reflected his own…hope. His brother was alive and, though he had been through hell, he was going to find his way back. Dean would make damn sure of that and he'd be with him all of the way.

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Author's note: Still more to come! Rachelly