Usually, Sam was the brother that was better at the whole 'waiting and hoping' thing, because things usually weren't this dire. At least Dean was in a hospital, and at least he was alive, that was what mattered then. The 'what ifs' and 'for nows' could wait a little while at least.
"Can we see him?" Cas spoke up for Sam, his usually fairly blank face betrayed by worry lines that made him look all the more human.
Marian looked between the two men before she nodded. "Follow me, he's on floor three with our more serious cases," she explained, and waved them forward.
Sam half heard her, and it took Cas' hand on his shoulder to bring him back down to earth. He nodded and quirked a bit of a smile that he was okay, at least for now. When he saw Dean though…he wasn't sure.
They followed Marian down the hallways, boots echoing on the tile as the noise from the waiting area gradually disappeared behind them. They got into the main elevator and she pushed the button for floor three and they all waited in pained silence. When the door quietly dinged open, they again followed her to the right and down one more hallway before they stopped by a door, numbered 376.
The door was already half open to allow for easier access, and Marian opened it all the way to let the two of them in. Cas entered first and Sam followed close behind, both parts eager and nervous to see Dean again, who wasn't even conscious.
The three of them stopped at the far end of the room, gaze trained on the man in the bed, who looked about as Sam had expected him to, but it was still a bit of a shock. He hadn't seen Dean in a hospital for an injury in so long, even though he himself just got out of his own stay.
Dean's head was thoroughly wrapped in white bandages and gauze so that only bits of his brown hair stuck out. There was a cannula wrapped around his nose, but no breathing tube, which Sam figured was at least a small victory. Dean's pallor was the most worrying thing though. While it wasn't stark white, it was more grey than peachy like he was used to.
Sam wasn't sure how long they had been standing there, but eventually Marian broke the silence.
"I can read off the full report," she offered, and looked between them again.
Sam kept his eyes trained on his brother. There were a few more words said, a few more glances, and then Cas and Marian were headed outside the room, leaving the door only cracked open as they did so.
And then Sam was alone with his unconscious brother.
He vaguely registered their muted conversation from outside the door, but that's all it was: muted. Much louder in his brain were the various beeps and whirs and little moving lines that were making sure his brother was more or less stable. Sam wasn't unfamiliar with the noises, again, he had just gotten away from his own, but he never wanted to be in the hospital again surrounded by those noises for Dean.
Hospitals were notorious for not delivering good news for his brother, to no fault of their own. Even when they were kids, a broken arm was worse than it should have been. A decade ago, a heart attack was going to end Dean's life. Half a decade ago, a beating at the hands of Alistair messed him up for the better part of a week.
Last year there was Corbin and the bullet in Sam's side and the story of what went on in the hospital that Dean refused to recount under any circumstances.
So it was no surprise that as Sam pulled up the empty chair next to Dean's bed, his hands were shaking. Just once, wouldn't a plane crash, hypothermia, concussion, and bruised body be enough? Did they have to wait for another shoe to drop? Sam dropped his head into his hands before running them through his hair. Chuck was gone, they didn't exactly want angel attention, who was there left to pray to? To ask for some small, minuscule amount of mercy that they probably deserved after years of crap luck?
No one.
Sam took another shaky breath from his aching lungs and raised his head to look at his brother. Up close, he could see various other scratches on Dean's face that marred his otherwise freckled skin. He was also paler up close, and too still. He was also face up, which was more unnerving, considering he was a hardcore stomach sleeper. Everything about his brother in front of him was just…off in one way or another.
Still, after a moment of contemplation, he reached a free hand up to grasp Dean's left. He didn't jerk at the touch of cold flesh anymore, but it was a far from comforting feeling. Still, if Dean were conscious, he'd be making fun of Sam for just staring at him and not saying anything. But what was there to say? A simply 'hey how are you feeling?' didn't exactly cut it.
"Cas drove here. Hope you're not too pissed," he said quietly, his voice breaking just a bit. "I mean, you said for me to not drive, so he was the only other option. But bright side, your Baby's back," Sam quirked a smile as he looked over Dean, half expecting him to wake up at that very statement.
"So how about you get your lazy ass out of bed and take her for a spin?"
The question was met with more beeps and wheezes and unnatural sounds. Sam nodded and clenched his jaw; what had he expected? Some miraculous Hallmark movie waking up moment? He knew better.
Sam lost track of how long he sat by Dean's bed, a position which he had become all too familiar with over the years. When the door opened to reveal Cas with a cup of coffee, he figured it must have taken at least a little while.
Cas passed off the cup to Sam, who took it with an appreciative smile after letting Dean's hand go. "How is he?" Cas asked quietly, his voice breaking through the repetitive beeping that had taken up residence in Sam's head. He pulled up the other chair next to Sam's and sat down in it as he waited for a reply.
"Okay? I guess? He's just…" Sam wasn't quite sure how to finish. "He'll be fine, he just needs some time," yeah, that was it. He ran a hand down his face and took a sip of the hospital coffee, which he had not missed. "What did Marian say?"
Cas took a moment to reply. "In short, his condition is…complicated," he started, and shook his head. "In longer terms, his ribs and body should heal fine, but the hypothermia did some damage, and they're worried about the effect it may have had on his head injury, which probably occurred at the time of the crash. They…they expected him to wake up sometime soon. Since he hasn't yet though, he is officially…comatose."
Sam stilled at that word, and Cas must have seen it, because he stopped for a few seconds before continuing.
"They're planning on moving him up to the ICU tonight once some of the other survivors get moved around."
Sam took the new knowledge in with nothing but a stoic nod and another nail of worry into his slightly freaked out coffin. He had been waiting for the other shoe, and that was it.
Dean…in a coma.
Things hadn't been that bad since Dad was still with them…
"I…I can't heal something of this degree anymore, Sam, I'm sorry."
Sam wasn't expecting that and turned to find the angel's eyes on him, utterly defeated in a way the hunter had seldom seen. He immediately shook his head and turned a bit more towards him.
"No, Cas, don't be sorry. You drove…two days straight almost to get here, to get us here, that's the most you could have done. You've patched us up so many times over the years, Cas, there won't ever be any hard feelings. Thank you," he gave his friend a tired, but wholly appreciative smile.
Cas thought it over for a second before he too, nodded. "Once he wakes up, they'll know better how to treat him," he added.
"Wait and see," Sam muttered, putting a hand under his chin to lean his head against before he took another sip of his coffee.
They sat like that for a few hours, waiting and doing less seeing than either one wanted. Throughout that time, they both filled out various pieces of paperwork and kept their eyes on the news for any new information about the crash. There were still survivors coming in, but the rate was slower now that a few days had passed.
Eventually, afternoon started to turn to evening. It was then that Cas sent Sam downstairs to the cafeteria to get food and take his medicine, with a thoroughly repeated promise to watch over Dean.
Sam picked a corner table for two people, sat down, ate the food that tasted like nothing with every bite he took, and washed down his pills with more coffee. Before he knew it, he was back up in Dean's room, feeling about the same as he had before, and they resumed their prior positions.
Once the clock hit nine, Marian was back to tap on the door, announcing that visiting hours were over.
Sam figured Dean would have fought to stay by his bedside, and he had, but after the day Sam had been through, there wasn't much fight in him to argue and possibly get kicked out. "Know of any places to stay for the night on the…less expensive side?" Sam asked, having not seen many cheap little motels in the sprawling metropolis that was New York.
Marian thought for a moment before she nodded. "'bout…five miles east there's a few. About a hundred per night, but there's free wifi and some have breakfast. That's the best I got," she explained with a small smile.
Sam looked to Cas, who shrugged, seeming rather indifferent regarding the topic of motels. "That's great, thank you." He cast another glance to Dean and out of the corner of his eye watched Cas do the same. "Can you-can you have someone call if-"
"If anything happens, one of the on duty staff will contact you," Marian gently cut him off and assured. She waited another few moments before she ushered them out of the room. "You two have a nice night, get some rest," she regarded the two of them, smiled again, and started off back down the hallway.
Sam and Cas stayed in the hallway for another minute or so, silently contemplating what to do.
"Free wifi, that should be helpful," Cas mentioned, looking over Sam, who wasn't exactly keen on moving. "We'll come back first thing, Sam," he added, to which the younger brother nodded, as if he needed the extra reassurance.
"Yeah," Sam replied absently, "let's see what New York motels are made of."
As they began walking away from the room, Sam half expected to hear a flurry of alarming noises coming from Dean's room, but there was nothing. As they walked, the beeping gradually blended into the rest of the sounds in the hospital until Sam couldn't hear it any more.
They ended up checking into the Bluebird motel, which was only four or so miles from the hospital, and traffic hadn't been exactly awful. It was definitely better than some of the motels they had stayed at, as Dean may need a few days out of the hospital before they could hit the road again.
Sam waited in the car while Cas got them checked in, and soon they were in another generic motel room. Two beds, bathroom, tiny kitchenette, the usual. Of course, their situation was anything but usual, but at least the familiar scenery helped a little.
Sam finished up his next mental list by taking a shower (which was done with some amount of difficulty), checking his injury, changing bandages, then food, meds, and bed. It was a rather monotonous list, as many of his mental ones tended to be, but it kept him busy.
When he got out of the shower, Cas had taken up residence on the bed closest to the door. He was fully clothed, sitting on top of the covers, and flipping through various channels on the television. Sam couldn't figure if the angel had done it on purpose or not, but having another person in the bed that had been empty in their last few stops was a bit of a comfort.
"I'll keep the volume low, visiting hours open again at ten, so I set an alarm for nine," Cas explained as he turned down the volume, having settled on some old black and white movie.
"Thanks, Cas," Sam smiled a little and got into his own bed, looking at the movie for a few minutes with Cas.
"I remember when you, well not you specifically, but your species, first discovered recording," Cas said, almost wistfully, eyes still on the old film in front of them. "Of course, they were nothing but many pictures taken in succession and flipped through quickly, but they were very proud. Eventually they tried adding music, and cards with words on them. You flocked to these features, and you still do, even though the black and white films have become less…common. I still find them enjoyable, another reminder of how far humanity has come. Do you like black and white features, Sam?"
He turned to look at Sam, and a small smile crossed his face when he saw the younger Winchester had fallen asleep at his rambling, just as the angel had hoped he would.
Only one week for an update! Nanowrimo is definitely helping ;) As always, hope you guys enjoyed. If you could, reviews are always an appreciated little gift thing, letting me know if you like the story or if there are some things that need a bit of changing. As it stands right now, the next chapter will either be all flashback to the werewolf hunt or 3/4 flashback and the rest more hospital stuff. Any preferences as to which? I'm shooting for an update next weekend, so stay tuned!