AN: So many fabulous comments that deserve responses! Woohoo! There is one more chapter after this one, because it was getting ginormous so I split it in half.
Don't own them, just eye them covetously from afar.
Wildfire: I hope you don't mind my shortening your screen name. I do that all the time…bad habit. The "you're dunking Baby" made me giggle. I couldn't kill her, though! Thanks for saying you like it. I didn't make up Vodnik – it's a German water spirit or demon. I am stuck because of a long-term medical condition that makes it dangerous for me to be exposed to too many people, so I'm fine but just bored. Your concern is so sweet!
Shazza19: Hello, hello! Glad you like the banter. I have 3 sisters, and while we're not as mean as the boys are to each other, I like to channel how much we hassle each other – still! And thank you so much for your kindness. It is so very encouraging.
Immertreu: Oh no! I failed the German? Or the Latin? For some reason, I don't see a PM from you, but I can correct it if you just want to tell me in a regular comment what it should be, pretty please. I speak English and a tiny bit of Spanish (mostly, I say: hable más despacio, por favor), and like 20 words of Dutch, so anything else comes from Google. Sorry!
BitterSweetJoy: Enough angst for ya? LOL And seriously, hugs for your kind words. A bit more angst, h/c, but also more brotherly moments because they're my FAVORITE.
Blondie: Oh, my gosh, do you make me laugh every time! Charging rent just killed me, and oh, snap is Baby gonna sink. AND asking for Gadreel to smite the very annoying Michelle. Getting thrown into the lake by a giant frog demon good enough for you? LOLOL
Sfaulkenberry: Bwahaha! Dude, he does need a vacation. I love those brotherly moments so much too. I struggle to do them justice. And I have a confession: I can't resist a story request. I'll see if I can pop out a one- or two-shot tonight for you. We'll see if I can do it justice.
Eventually, they did slide carefully down to the hood of the van, then stagger through the water to the closest stairway. They even made up an entire 5 steps – and out of the water – before Sam's body decided that it'd had enough. Luckily, Dean saw the look of surprise on his brother's face a split second before his knees forget how to hold him up. Unluckily, Dean's body also remembered how tired it was, especially his aching arms, and they ended up just falling together. Guess I've hit my limit for Sasquatch hauling.
"Sorry," grumbled Sam, sounding truly disgusted with himself.
"No worries," Dean replied, with a shrug. "I was just thinking a rest sounded great. And you know what's better than memory foam? Cold metal steps, especially the kind that have that raised tread. So comfy."
Sam gave the expected smile/eye roll combination. He eyed Dean, then moved a little like he was going to sit up. "Take the jacket, Dean. Y-you're freezing."
It was true that Dean was shivering in his t-shirt, having used his outer shirt to wrap Sam's arm, but he wasn't about to take the jacket. "And you're just gonna, what, take that off your broken wrist?"
"Oh." Was Sam's brilliant response, like he'd forgotten about the break. Come to think of it, his eyes were looking more than a little glazed.
Dean talked quietly about nothing for a while to keep them both awake and to distract himself from his shivering. "And in just a minute I'll go find you some help," he lied. Then jumped a little when the boat seemed to tremble. Dean squinted at the space past the broken door and realized something. "Hey, Sam, I think we're moving."
"Don't hear the engines," Sam surprised Dean by answering. "Must be a tow or somethin'."
Huh. Kid is pretty smart even when he's only half awake.
Time ebbed and flowed for a little while, then a noise bothered Dean enough that he looked around to find it. Was that a phone? Sam was out, so Dean pushed aside the scratchy blanket – blanket? – to root around in Sam's pocket. And, hey presto, it was Sam's phone, still working despite its dunking. It took him three tries to answer it.
"DEAN! I've been trying to call. I see on the news that the Badger had an accident and is being towed to shore. Are you and Sam alright?
It took another moment to identify the voice on the phone, maybe because he'd never heard it sound scared. "Margaretha? We're, um, mostly okay. It was a witch. And a water demon. There's a ghost too, but we haven't quite…managed to take care of that." God, he was tired.
"Dean, are you or Sam injured?" The voice was back to its business-like self.
"Little bit," he admitted. "Can't quite…walk yet. But we're okay."
"Where are you?" she demanded, and Dean sighed. The blanket made him much warmer and he thought Sam had the right idea about sleeping.
"Um. Where they keep the cars. Somebody should find us pretty soon."
"Dean, what last name did you use?"
Another pause. "Um. Gibbons."
"Okay. Stay put. I'll get help to you." She hung up, which he thought was a little bit rude, because he'd already told her that they weren't going anywhere.
He might have slept again, then there were a lot of people there, in uniforms, and they were making him let go of Sam and putting him on a board and carrying them both up the stairs. He really wanted to tell them that was pretty impressive because neither Winchester was particularly small, but he had a warm blanket that wasn't scratchy and an IV that seemed to bring quiet with it, and he just didn't care any more. He woke up once on something that was loud and moving fast and asked for Sammy.
"He's already on the way to the hospital, but he's stable," said an unknown voice. Then Dean warned them that he was going to puke, and the voice said it could help with that, and it went dark again.
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
Sam felt like he'd been swimming for a very long time, trying to catch a giant frog that was swimming off with Dean like an aquatic King Kong. And he was very tired, and his arms really didn't want to work all that well. But it was kind of a relief because he normally dreamed of fire – oh, just a dream, then. There was a bright light in his eyes, and he came awake all at once, trying to sit up and knocking back the person who was leaning over him. He tried again to sit up, disoriented, but his arms were restrained. That and the pain brought him to near panic as the white-clad woman regained her feet, and he struggled to sit up again.
"Calm down, Mr. Gibbons! You're in the hospital. Do you remember getting hurt in a fall?"
He paused until his vision cleared. "'S Dean?"
"Let's talk about you for just a moment, okay?"
"Dean okay?" he demanded, and heard laughter from behind the woman. Lips compressing, she moved to the side. Sam's blurry eyes cleared a little more, until he could see a bed past her, and in it…Dean.
"You owe me 20 bucks, doc," smiled Dean, but his smile was all for Sam. "Told you he'd be upset if I wasn't here. How you doin', Sammy?"
"That's what I'm trying to ascertain," snipped the doctor, apparently not pleased with her patients. Satisfied that his brother was alive and at least reasonably okay, Sam submitted to her questions and exam. Turned out he had 2 cracked ribs "and given the bruising, I can't believe they aren't broken more severely," she'd added, and Dean got a strange look on his face. He also had a simple "buckle" fracture in his wrist, and the other arm was immobilized against his chest to keep his shoulder still. "Even sedated you were moving around a lot, and we didn't want you to injure it further. It's mostly swollen, but will be sore for a while," the doctor said. He also had water in his lungs and a concussion.
"Okay, so how is Dean?" Sam asked as soon as the doctor's litany was done.
"You really need to think about your own recovery –" she started.
"Not until you tell me how he's doing."
"I'm fine," called Dean, and the doctor looked frustrated again. Giving up, she explained that Dean had a serious burn on one arm, minor but painful muscle tears in both biceps, and a concussion of his own, but would be released in the morning." She was clearly frustrated. "He is only sharing a room with you because he stated he would sign himself out against medical advice if we did not put you together. But if you cannot remain calm, I will have him moved and you sedated."
Sam was tired and sore, but not about to let himself be bullied. "Actually, doctor, now that I'm awake and aware, I have the right to refuse any medical treatment. And I also have the right to sign myself out if necessary."
The petite woman shot him a glare that almost set his hair on fire. "Well, I strongly recommend getting a lot of rest to allow your many, many injuries to heal. And it is my professional medical opinion that you should remain under observation for at least 48 hours, Mr. Gibbons. A nurse will be in shortly to check your pain level and anything else you need. And Dr. Timmons will be the doctor assigned to you, as it's the end of my shift." She may have added a very quiet thank God on the end, but Sam wasn't positive. Then she stomped out.
"I like her," offered Dean with a grin. "Feisty. Hey, can you toss me your call button?"
Sam blinked at the question. He really was awfully tired and sore. But his cast left his fingers free, so he was able to toss the button to Dean. Dean tugged on the heavy cord until his bed was only a foot from Sam's, who couldn't help but smile a little sleepily at his brother's ingenuity. "There. Now how ya doing, really?" he asked, in full on big brother mode.
"Little sore," Sam admitted. Oops. He'd intended to say he was fine. "Tired. What -- ?"
Dean understood the question. "You remember Vodník tossing the witch, then leaving?" Sam nodded. "Well, we went to get out of there, but you decided to take a nap on the stairs. Margaretha called and she got ahold of someone to tell them where we were. That special phone case you bought? Totally worth it – your phone went under water at least twice and still worked."
Sam pictured the car bay in his mind. "Car okay?"
The question made Dean smile. "Yeah, Baby got her nose wet, but she never got totally dunked. Margaretha got someone to put her on a flatbed – no towing a classic, you know – and she's in storage until we're ready to go home. She's one resourceful lady. She and Kevin even worked together to send a team onto the boat while it's drydocked to suss out that ghost." Dean remembered waking up covered in an old wool blanket that nobody could explain and half hoped they wouldn't find the spirit.
"Oh, that's good," Sam sighed. He looked at the lurid bruises on his brother's face. "And you're really okay?"
"I really am, lil bro. I told them we went to get our Dramamine out of the car when the boat started shaking and we fell off the stairs. Me on top." He waggled his eyebrows obscenely and Sam obediently rolled his eyes. "The, uh, actual Coast Guard got us out of there. But they don't expect us to know anything about what happened, just passengers that were in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Sam nodded. And blinked. Slowly.
"My brother could use something for pain, pretty please, Jordan," Dean said to someone Sam hadn't seen come in. There was a feminine chuckle.
"I can take care of that. I see you're breaking the rules again, Dean."
"Me? Never!" The wounded innocence in Dean's voice was comical. "I never got out of bed, see?"
Another giggle, then warmth began to slide into Sam's veins. The nurse or whoever said something else, but Sam didn't hear it. He turned and looked at Dean, who smiled, a real smile. "Go back to sleep, dude."
They exchanged a look that said many things. We're okay. We made it again. Thanks for not letting me fall. Thanks for not letting go. Thanks for having my back. Be more careful next time, will ya? And when Sam fell asleep again, it was dreamless.