The forgotten day at Pluckys
Thanks so much for the reviews. I'm sure you're all upset at John for lying to Dean, but to clarify, he did so because he didn't want to tell Dean about the demons and what he'd learned about Sammy. As we all know, he doesn't tell Dean about that stuff until the beginning of season 2 before his death. Now we will delve into Sam's recovery and the after math.
John and Dean both followed the nurse to Sam's room. The room was curtained into four sections, but no one else was in the room. Sam lay alone on one of the far beds. He was pale and had a few cuts on his face. One eye was swollen and the other had a dark purple ring around it. Wires snaked to a blood pressure cuff that rested on his upper arm, as well as electrodes on his chest, and a pulsox on the end of one of his fingers. There was tubing dangling from an IV bag that hung on a hook near the bed and connected down to a needle in his lower arm, giving him fluids and probably pain killers, if the Winchesters had to guess. Sam looked so small and lifeless laying in that sad little beige corner of the hospital. The small beeping of Sam's heart rate and the faint up and down of the boys chest were the only indication of lilfe.
"Damn, Sammy..." Dean swallowed a hard lump in his throat. Why in the hell did he have to ditch him that night? Was making out really that much more important than the well being of his little brother, even if the kid was a pest sometimes? Why did he keep letting Sammy down? Those were among the immediate thoughts in his head when his eyes landed on his battered brother. He should have been there with him. He should have protected him.
John could see the inner turmoil in Dean's eyes. He knew immediately that his eldest boy felt guilty, not that he himself had been much help in making him see otherwise. The first thing he'd done was blame Dean. "It's ok, son." He tried to assure Dean. "Sam'll be just fine."
"You don't know that, Dad." He shot back quickly, tears brimming in his eyes.
"No, I suppose not." John said, taking a step closer to inspect the injuries on his youngest son. He spared a quick glance back at Dean. "But I know that we're both gonna help him through it."
Dean hoped that John was right about that, that they would both get Sammy through it because he knew all too well that usually he was the one to get Sammy through things while his father always found new hunts to run after. He prayed that this time was different, but sadly, it would end up being just like every other time.
Sometime the next morning, a few hours after the sun first rose, Sam's eyes began to flutter behind heavy lids. For the better part of an hour, he fought his way back from the deep dark abyss that his mind had fallen into. Every time he tried to open his eyes, to the sound of muffled voices that were calling out to him and encouraging him, pain exploded in his head and he had to snap them closed again. He tried to focus on the voices, to what they were saying, but they sounded far off like they were in another universe. He worked his mouth, trying to get it to cooperate, but all that came out was a pained grunt.
"Come on, Sammy..." Dean cooed. "We need you to open those eyes for us, let us know you're still in there."
"Dean, he'll open them when he's ready." John said sternly from the chair he'd situated next to Sam's bed.
Dean had his own chair, but for the better part of the last hour, it had sat abandoned on the other side of his brother's bed. He glanced over at his father. "Well, he's taking too damn long." He said with a huff of annoyance. The sooner Sammy woke up, the sooner he could verify that his brother was truly ok.
John straightened up in his chair and gave his eldest boy a stern look. "Sit down before you wear a groove into the floor. He's gonna come around. He just needs time."
Dean sighed at his father, at the whole damn situation and sat in his chair. He watched Sam intently for a few minutes before focusing on the strange discoloration on one of the floor tiles. He knew if he kept his eyes on Sam the whole time, he'd probably go crazy. He wasn't sure how many minutes passed before he heard something faint, his eyes shooting up to the bed immediately.
"De'n"Sam slurred, his eye lids at half mast and unfocused.
"Hey..." Dean said softly, jumping up from his chair and leaning into Sam's line of vision. "I'm here, Sammy."
Sam swallowed hard and groaned as he felt pain bubble up from his chest. "Wha' ppened?" He asked as he tried to focus his eyes a little better. His voice cracked, his throat obviously dry.
"Sam?" John finally stood, taking his son's hand. Without turning his head, Sam's eyes slowly flicked over to him. "What do you remember?"
He worked his mouth a few times, trying to find the words. "I, I..."
Dean reached to a bedside table and poured a cup of water for his brother.
"I was at the h'tel and De..." Sam groaned again and Dean took that as his queue, moving in with the water cup. He sipped slowly before Dean moved the cup away. "De'n was cleanin' guns."
Dean thought for a long moment. "Sammy, that was two days ago." He shot back, getting an immediate look of confusion from his brother.
"Remember what the doc said?" John said, giving Dean a quick glance. "He told us that Sam might not remember what happened."
The look of confusion on Sam's face instantly turned into a mild panic. He suddenly felt the need to take stock of his injuries. "Wha' happ'ned?" Sam was still slurring a bit as his arm, the one without the blood pressure cuff and IV, moved up to his face. His hand landed on a painful lump on the side of his skull and slowly he moved fingers down it to his one eye, that felt puffy and swollen. He couldn't open that eye as much as the other.
"Sammy..." Dean started, but John put a hand up to stop him.
"I think I should handle this, Dean." John said as Sam's hand roamed down to his chest with a sudden need to cradle it protectively, as it too was causing pain. He could see his youngest son grimace and wondered if it wasn't time for Sammy to have some more pain meds. "Some kids attacked you and I had to scare 'em off, but not before they did a little damage."
As if he could read John's thoughts, Dr. Lecki entered the room and slid the privacy curtain back, smiling when he saw that his patients eyes were finally open."Well, hello there Sam."
Sam eyed the man, knowing instantly that he had to be the doctor. He didn't' say anything in reply though. He was too tired and too pained to bother with a response.
"I'm Dr. Lecki and I've been taking care of you since your father brought you in." He moved towards the bed and picked up the patient chart that hung on the end of it. He checked a few notes that the nightly nurses had written in and then hung it back on the bed. "I see you're due for some new pain meds. Any chance you can rate your pain for me?" He asked his patient curiously. He didn't want to give his patient too much in regards to pain medication because most of the meds could easily be addicting and also because sometimes they kept the patient in a fog. If the patient can tolerate it, they usually work at lowering the pain meds as soon as they can to help minimize any of that. "From 1 to 10."
Sam swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to calculate his pain. His head and chest were the worst, so he assumed that was where most of his injuries were. "Maybe four or, or..." He moved ever so slightly on the bed and let out a hiss. "Six."
Dean could see Sammy tighten his arm a little more around his chest as the younger man hissed in pain. "Alright, just take it easy there little bro." He was instantly in protective mode, though usually that meant protecting his brother from other people or many of the supernatural sons of bitches they come across on a regular basis, not protecting the kid from himself. He moved closer to Sam, ready to put a hand out to stop Sam if he tried to move again.
"Ok, I'm going to administer a little more pain medication to help with that." Dr. Lecki stated as he moved toward the IV stand. He pushed a button on the IV machine and watched for a quick moment as liquid medicine started snaking into the clear tubing going to his patients arm. He turned back to the patient. "You sustained a pretty serious concussion. There was actually some minor brain swelling, but I'm confident that should go down on it's own. You've also bruised your kidneys and broke a few ribs. Those will be a little sore for a while, but should heal with time and proper rest. It's the head wound we'd like to keep monitoring for a day or two." Sam nodded in acknowledgment at the doctor.
"Don't worry, Sammy." Dean said with a faint smile. "We're gonna help you through it and get you all better."
Sam's eyes moved to his brother. He always promised to make things better and usually, he was true to his word...up to a point. Things were constantly going sideways for them though and as soon as things were better, they were usually right back to being a mess again. Dean tried, he really did and Sam could never fault his brother for that. He just knew that if things were to really get better, better for good, they'd have to get out of hunting and settle down somewhere on the right side of normal. Until that day happened, which was very unlikely, things would just stay in this cycle of good, bad, and the other constantly on repetition.
"You know that, right, Sam?" Dean asked when he noticed his brother was staring a little too intently, eyes out of focus just a bit. That usually meant his little brother was deep in some kind of thought.
Of course, Sam knew they were going to help him. They'd get him physically back in tip top shape. And, his Dad would have him training and sparring again in no time flat. He wasn't worried about that. What did worry him though was that he couldn't remember what had happened. "Yeah, but..." He started to say.
Dean could see the questioning look on Sam's face all of a sudden, his eyes moving to the doc and their Dad. "What is it, Sammy?" He asked.
"I, I don't remember what even happened." Sam stated softly, his slur finally starting to disappear.
John huffed. "You're probably better off son. What those kids did to you..." He trailed off, not wanting to go into detail if he didn't have to...never mind that it was all a lie anyways, so it probably didn't matter.
The doctor nodded at Sam. "I was afraid this might happen." He said. "Given the concussion and minor swelling, it's possible you might have some slight memory loss. I'll let you discuss with your family what you may or may not remember, but I will say this. The memories could return or they may never come back to you, but I don't suspect the loss to affect more than the last few days worth of memories."
"Uh, that's good, I guess." Sam mumbled as his hand fiddled with a thread on the blanket that was draped over his legs. He was starting to lose focus and if he had to guess, it was probably the pain meds kicking in. "I, uh, think I just wanna sleep for a bit."
"Of course, I'll be back in to check on you later." Dr. Lecki turned to John and then Dean. "Why don't you go get yourselves some food in the cafeteria. It's not great food, but you haven't left his side since you brought him in and he really does need some rest. I'll come back before my shift ends in a couple hours." With that said, he walked out.
John turned to Dean. "We should eat something." He said, realizing in that moment how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten since the morning before and it was only a measly can of beans that was warmed up in an old fireplace at the abandoned house where he was interrogating demons.
Dean planted his butt firmly in his chair and scooted closer to his brother, who'd already dozed off. "You go ahead. I'm not leaving Sammy."He shot back.
"Dean, we both need to eat something." John tried again, with more force in his voice this time.
"You can bring me back something." Dean argued.
John huffed and moved over to Dean. "This isn't up for debate, son." He grabbed Dean's arm to pull him out of the chair.
Dean nearly snarled at his father, yanking his arm away. He eyed his sleeping brother and tried to calm himself before he really pissed their Dad off. "Fine." He stood, knowing that John wasn't about to back off. "We'll grab a quick bite."
Both elder Winchester ate quickly, the cafeteria food not as bad as some of the road food they usually ate. There was even pie, which Dean found himself indulging in as fast as he could inhale it. He was never one to turn down pie, but wanted to get back to his brother. He even grabbed a slice to go. They weren't gone long before they were rushing back to Sam and sitting once again at his bedside.
The days after that were slow and agonizing for Sam. He was in and out of pain, but the doctor had him up and moving around the room, with the help of his brother. He wanted to make sure the head injury wasn't impairing Sam's balance and coordination any. He swayed a bit on his feet at first, but pushed through it. He'd had a couple more head scans to verify that the swelling was indeed going down and after a few days, he got the all clear. The swelling had gone and the doctor was ready to consider letting him leave.
Once they were back at their motel, Dean was in full on mother hen mode. He was constantly at Sam's side and it was starting to wear on the younger Winchester. "Dean, I'm capable of getting my own water." He argued, trying to fight passed his brother to get up from his side of the bed they shared.
Dean stood firmly, blocking his brother. "Doc said you needed to rest up." He shot back.
"I'm just going for a bottle of water..." Sam tried to argue, but was cut off.
Dean crossed his arms. "Which I can get for you."
John stepped out of the bathroom and huffed. "Sam can handle getting his own water." He said sternly. Dean eyed him and looked like he was about to argue so he added in, "He needs rest, but we can't afford to baby him either or he'll never get any strength back."
Dean humphed and stepped aside, finally letting his brother off the bed.
John moved closer to his boys. "Now, I was on the phone this morning with Pastor Jim and he's got some leads on a demon I've been tracking." It was the one that hurt his youngest boy, though he left that little tidbit out.
Sam reached in their mini fridge for a bottle of water. He tried to get it without bending down, the action causing a bit of pain to flare up in his rib cage. He was still a little sore in that area around his rib cage and abdomen, but wasn't dizzy or having balance issues anymore from his head wound. The only lasting affects of the head wound seemed to be a fuzzy memory. He still couldn't recall the details surrounding what happened to him. He was partially thankful for that, knowing they probably wouldn't have been very fond memories, but also frustrated of it at the same time. He hated that he was missing chunks of time in his memory.
"Wait, so you're leaving?" Dean asked, almost sounding surprised, though not entirely.
Sam eyed his father for a quick moment. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that John was already taking off on the next hunt. His father was never one to sit in one place for very long if he didn't have to. And he left most of Sam's care in the hands of his brother, so it's not like he was doing anything new or out of the ordinary. It never made a difference if he was injured or sick, Dean was always the one left to take care of him.
"I can't let this demon get a way." John answered, not saying why exactly.
Dean stood, matching his father's height. "And what about Sam, you said that..."
John cut him off. "Sam'll be just fine because he's got you to take care of him." He glanced over at Sam, giving him a stern look. "Isn't that right, Sam?"
Sam swallowed hard and spared a peek at his brother, who seemed a tab bit aggravated now, before looking back at his father. "Yes, sir." He answered, knowing better than to argue with his father, not that he hadn't argued with him before. The two of them seemed to butt heads quite a bit actually.
"Dad..." Dean tried.
"Now, Dean..." John started sternly. "You are more than capable of taking care of your brother, am I right?"
"Yes, sir." Dean answered, sounding just a bit dejected.
"Good." John moved to his bed, picking up his bag that was next it. As far as he was concerned, that was the end of the conversation. "Now, Sam here has to finish out the week at school." He looked up at his boys, who were both sitting on the opposite bed now...Sam with his water and Dean with a scowl on his face. "When the weeks done, I want you both to head out to Pastor Jim's. He'll have a room ready for you two and I'll meet you there as soon as I catch up with the demon."
"Yes, sir." Dean repeated. He knew it was pointless to argue with his father. The man was going to leave them no matter what he said.
John swung his bag over his shoulder and walked towards the door, glancing back at his boys one last time. "Dean, a word outside." He instructed to his oldest.
Dean sighed, but rose from the bed. "Be right back, Sammy." He said with a huff, before following their father outside.
John walked to his truck with Dean in tow. He set his bag in the passenger seat and turned to his son, who looked a little angered. He could easily guess why, but it wouldn't change things. Nothing was going to stop him from going after any demon that dared to hurt one of his loved ones. "Dean, this time I need to you actually take care of your brother." In an instant, he could see the hurt and guilt flashing in Dean's eyes. "No more date nights with your girl of the week and no more trips to that Plucky's. You stay with Sam except when you're both at school. Understood?"
Dean took in a deep breath before answering with a "Yes sir." He wasn't about to leave Sam again. Sure, he laid part of the blame on their Dad who was always leaving them, but Sam had always been his responsibility...had been since he was four years old and had carried his brother out of that burning house. He always took most of the blame on himself when Sammy was hurt.
John pulled out a wad of cash from his glove box in the truck. He handed it out to Dean. "The rooms paid til the weekend. I expect you on the road first thing Saturday morning." Dean took the cash and nodded. "This should get through the end of the week and be enough for gas to get to Jim's place."
Dean didn't risk counting the money in front of his father. He'd count it and budget the money when he was back inside the room with Sammy. "Of course." He answered, pocketing the cash. His father always insisted that he gave them plenty of money to get by with whenever he was away but that was far from the truth. After running out of cash several times while his father was away and having to come up with some unique methods of getting more cash, he had started budgeting the cash a little better so he could make it stretch longer.
John pulled out his wallet and slid a card out of it. "Now, this..." He held the card out. "is for emergencies only." It was a Visa credit card in the name of Frank Elliot. "If anyone asks for an ID with it, just use that one I gave you a while back. The name's should match."
"Yes, sir." Dean took the card.
"Alright, I'll see you in a week or two." John said. He closed the passenger door of his truck and walked over to the driver's side. He added in one last, "take care of Sammy." before he climbed in the truck and started the engine.
Dean took that as his queue to head back inside the motel room, where Sam had gotten more comfortable on the bed. He had the TV on and was watching the news. "Anything good?" He asked Sam.
Sam looked up at Dean. "No, just the news. What did Dad say?"
"Just the usual, Sammy." He shot back, sitting on their Dad's bed. He turned to the TV as a reporter on the news began to speak about an unsolved shooting that took place behind Plucky's.
'We're still looking for any information on the shooting that took place in the alley behind Plucky Penny Whistles Magic Menagerie.' A male Asian reporter said. '42 year old Michael Thompson presumably stepped out behind the establishment on an employee mandated break, when someone shot him...once in the chest and once in the shoulder. There are security cameras on the scene, but they seem to have malfunctioned during the time of the shooting and the victim has not been able to explain his side of the story yet. If anyone has any information regarding the shooting, please phone the local authorities at 555-3300, EXT 112." A picture of the victim flashed on the screen while he spoke, showing the man dressed in a clown costume.
Sam gulped when he saw the photo and listened to the reporter. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that something about the clown was familiar, but he couldn't place what it was. He glanced at his brother. "Hey, Dean?"
Dean's gaze left the TV. "Yeah, Sammy?" He asked.
"That clown, was he at Plucky's the day that you dropped me off there?" Sam wondered curiously.
Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know." He said, though he vaguely remembered a clown in the ER the same time that Sammy was."Probably."
"Dean, I still can't remember what happened." Sam sounded annoyed that he couldn't remember.
"Look, Sammy, it's probably..."
Sam cut Dean off. "If you say one more time that it's probably better that I don't remember..."
Dean cut off Sam. "No, Sam..." He sighed with a huff. "You need to just put this whole thing behind you. We're gonna be outta this town soon anyways."
"Fine." Sam slammed down the tv remote on the bed and went to stand.
"Whoa there little bro, where ya going?" Dean sat up straight, ready to tear after his brother if he needed.
Sam stepped away from his bed. "To the bathroom." He huffed, walking a few more steps until he was in the bathroom. He turned and slammed the door before Dean could say anything further.
So Sam's memories are a little fuzzy from the head injury and soon we will get to the part that ties into episode 7x14. There are a couple more parts to this story and I'll try to post again in a few days. Please review. Thanks!