Author's Note: Hello again everyone! As always, thank you all for the amazing reviews. I'm making an effort to reply to everyone, so if I've missed anybody I sincerely apologize and want you to know how grateful I am for your support. I have to say, I honestly did not expect for Chapter 3 to end the way it did. I started off that chapter with every intention of having Sam, Dean, and Jess struggling with the witches, but ultimately all of them leaving in one piece. My characters keep taking over and changing the story on me, though.: D Don't worry, in this chapter we'll find out what happened to Sam (again, I have very little knowledge of the medical profession so any mistakes are entirely due to my own ignorance and lazy research). Because I didn't expect Chapter 3 to have the ending that it did my plans for Chapter 4 had to be altered. This is a bit of a filler chapter but I'm still trying to stick to the storyline, although I alter the timeline again at the end. Thank you all again for the amazing reviews and I hope you enjoy this latest chapter!

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"We need some help here!" Dean slammed into the emergency room with Sam in his arms. Normally he didn't think he'd have the strength to carry his sasquatch of a brother, but fear had a way of enabling people to do things they wouldn't normally be able to do.

Nurses and orderlies took one look at the pale, bleeding man and came running with a gurney. Two orderlies pried Sam from his brother's arms and onto the gurney. A nurse fixed an oxygen mask over his face and they started to quickly wheel him away.

"You two are his family?" the head nurse questioned Dean and Jess.

"I'm his brother and this is his girlfriend," Dean said.

"Can either of you tell me what happened?" the nurse asked, leading them into a small office.

Jess looked nervously at Dean. Obviously they couldn't tell the truth. She didn't think the nurse would take too kindly to being told that a witch had thrown Sam across the room with magic, causing him to land on the knife.

"We got mugged," Dean didn't miss a beat. "There were four guys, I think. We were just gonna give them what they wanted, but then they started going after Jess."

"Oh my," the nurse looked at Jess, concern written all over her face. "Are you alright? Do you need to be seen by a doctor?"

"No, I'm okay," Jess's eyes teared up very convincingly. It wasn't hard, all she had to do was think about Sam and how hurt he was. "Sam and Dean got them away from me, but one had a knife and he stabbed him. I guess they must have freaked out after that because they ran."

"Well, from what little I saw, it looks like one of you has some medical training," the nurse said.

"I'm a pre-med student at Stanford," Jess told her. "Sam and I were just visiting Dean for the weekend when this happened."

"You did well," the nurse assured her. "I'm going to go and check on him now. You two are welcome to stay here in the office. I'll update you on his condition as soon as I have any information."

She hustled out of the room and for the first time since she'd seen the knife and the blood pooling around Sam, Jess started to shake. Tears started to roll down her face. Dean noticed and quickly wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Jess buried her face in his shirt and let herself cry.

"He's gonna be okay," Dean assured her. "Sam's strong. It'll take more than this to take him out of the game."

"What if the knife nicked an artery, though?" Jess sobbed. "He could've been bleeding out the entire time and we never would've known. Even if the knife didn't hit an artery, the appendix or intestines could've been flooding him with toxins! If he gets an infection…"

"Hey, hey," Dean hugged her tighter, ignoring his 'no chick-flick moments' rule. "I'm telling you, he's going to be fine. I've seen him hurt a hell of a lot worse than this before and he's always bounced back. Hell, one time I saw a wendigo claw him in the leg, right down to the bone. It clipped his femoral artery and the kid actually reached in and pinched it off with his damn fingers until Dad and I managed to kill the wendigo and put a tourniquet around his leg. If he can make it through that, he can make it through this."

"Is there ever a time when you guys don't get hurt on a hunt?" Jess asked incredulously, then winced. She hadn't meant for it to come out sounding so harsh, but she'd always had a tendency to get snappish when she was scared.

"Very rarely," Dean managed a laugh. "There are times when we come off of a hunt with minimal injuries, but someone's almost always bleeding by the time we're done. Winchester family curse, I guess."

Dean held onto Jess for another few minutes, letting her compose herself. Not that there'd been any doubt in his mind, but if he needed any more convincing that Jess truly loved his brother, this would do it. She hadn't even been this upset when she'd been attacked by the demon.

Jess finally pulled away and swiped at her face. She cursed herself for falling apart like that. Dean must have thought she was so weak to just turn into a big, blubbering mess the first time one of them ran into trouble.

They both sat in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts while they waited for the head nurse to come back. Occasionally one of them would glance casually over at the other, each trying to determine if the other was okay. Both of them stressed quietly and tried not to let themselves think too hard about what could be going on with Sam until the nurse came back.

Almost an hour later the nurse knocked quietly on the door and then entered. Dean and Jess straightened in their chairs quickly, noticing that the nurse's eyes were tight.

"How is he?" Dean asked, clenching his hands together to keep anyone from noticing that they were trembling slightly.

"He's being prepped for surgery," the nurse told them. Even though she'd only spent a few minutes with them, she had a feeling that these two wouldn't appreciate her beating around the bush or sugar coating things. "The knife punctured his appendix and part of his large intestine. It also nicked his iliac artery. You saved his life by not removing the knife."

"Oh my god," Jess started to shake again.

"Since Sam is not awake and you're his next of kin, we need your permission to actually bring him into surgery," the nurse looked at Dean. "They need to repair the damage to the artery, as well as remove his appendix and possibly part of the intestine if it can't be repaired."

"Of course. Whatever he needs," Dean said immediately.

"I'll let the surgeon know," she stood and motioned for Dean and Jess to follow. "You won't be able to see him before the surgery, but I'll bring you up to the waiting room."

They followed closely behind her and went in when she motioned them towards a room where three other people sat. One looked concerned, while the other two seemed fairly relaxed. Jess immediately went to sit next to the fidgety, nervous-looking man.

"Hi," she said companionably. "It's gonna be okay."

The man looked up, startled. His eyes were glassy and it was clear that he'd either been there for a long time or had had very little sleep. Probably both.

"My wife and I were in a car accident," he said quietly. "The doctors…they don't think…"

"Hey. You can't think like that," Jess took his hand. "Believe in her. She'll fight to get through this."

"You don't understand," the man clearly hadn't had anyone to talk to judging by the way he broke down. "I was the one driving the car. Someone cut us off on the highway and I lost control."

"That doesn't make it your fault," Jess assured him. "The person at fault here is the one who cut you off, not you."

"I still feel like I should've done more to keep control of the car," the man said with a haunted look in his eyes. He sighed and looked up at her. "I'm Carl."

"Jess," she squeezed his hand. "And that's Dean."

The men nodded to each other. Dean was sitting a few seats away, keeping his eyes glued to the door, but still watching Jess out of the corner of his eye. She was a lot calmer now that she was comforting someone else, he noticed.

"Your boyfriend?" Carl asked.

"My boyfriend's brother," Jess smiled.

"Your boyfriend is the one who got hurt," it was more of a statement than a question, but Jess still nodded.

"We were mugged and he was protecting me," she stuck to the story. "One of the muggers stabbed him for it."

"This world is going to hell," Carl muttered. "He's going to be okay?"

"They haven't said yet, but I have confidence in him," Jess nodded. "He's strong, just like I'm sure your wife is."

Dean sighed. He knew he had phone calls to make and it wasn't going to get any easier the longer he waited. He still didn't trust this Carl guy, but he was pretty sure he wasn't some serial killer who was going to murder Jess the second he left the room.

"Jess," he said softly. "I have to call Bobby and let him know what's going on."

"He's going to kill us," Jess lamented.

"Not us. Just me. I'm gonna be right out in the hall, in case you need me," he looked at Carl pointedly. Just in case.

"I'll be fine, Dean," Jess rolled her eyes at him. In all honesty, she thought his protectiveness was cute, though. Her brothers had always been somewhat protective of her, seeing as she was the youngest and the only girl, but there was something heart-warming in the fact that Dean didn't have to be and yet he still was.

Dean stalked out of the waiting room and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He glared at it for a moment, contemplating whether he really wanted to call Bobby yet. He groaned and scrolled through his contacts, past Bobby's name, before pausing for a minute before hitting the call button.

As expected, his call went to voicemail. Even though it was expected, he still felt a flare up of almost uncontrollable anger.

"Dad, it's Dean," he snapped. "Call me back when you get this. Sam's hurt and they're taking him into surgery now. Doctors seem pretty sure he should be fine, but he could use all the support he can get right now. We're at Sioux Falls General. Do us all a favor and pretend like you care for once in your damn life."

He angrily hit the end call button and glared at his phone for a few more seconds. It wasn't like him to pop off at his father, but dammit he was mad. They'd both tried to get ahold of the man after the demon had attacked Jess, with no response. Now Sam was hurt and Dean expected that he would get exactly the same reaction. Nothing. Sure, he believed that his dad cared about him and Sam, but it could be awfully hard to remember when the man ignored every attempt they made to reach out to him.

Steeling himself for what he knew was apt to be an uncomfortable conversation, Dean scrolled back up to Bobby's number. He glanced through the window of the waiting room to see Jess still talking calmly with Carl, sucked it up, and hit the call button again.

"It's about damn time!" the phone had barely rung once when Bobby picked up. "I thought I told you to call me as soon as you were done with the witch!"

"Witches," Dean corrected. "There were two, Bobby."

"You take care of them?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, but…" Dean broke off.

"But…" Bobby pried, even more frustration seeping into his voice. Judging by the way Dean was hesitant to actually tell him anything, he knew there was a problem.

"Sam got hurt," Dean said. "One of the witches was pretty strong. She was holding a knife to his throat and Sam managed to get ahold of it, but she tossed him across the room and landed on it. He's in surgery now."

"I'll be there in ten minutes," Bobby growled. "Keep an eye on Jess and call me if anything changes."

Dean sighed again and hung up the phone. He reflected on the fact that it was a sad world when he couldn't get his own father on the phone, but his father's friend would pick up on the very first ring. He clutched his phone so tightly it was a miracle that it didn't break and headed back into the waiting room.

"Bobby will be here in ten," he told Jess.

"Your dad?" Carl asked, striking out for the second time with his assumptions.

"Uncle," Dean said shortly.

It didn't take Bobby ten minutes to get to the hospital. He was there in five. He stalked into the waiting room and bee lined for Dean and Jess, scowling at the bruises on both of them. He grabbed Dean by the elbow and pulled him out of the room.

"Explain," he ordered shortly.

"One of the witches was stronger than we expected," Dean shrugged. "There's really nothing more to explain than that. She got the drop on us and threw us around a bit. Sam and I took the worst of it, but he just happened to be the one who landed closest to her."

"Damn it, boy," Bobby snapped. "You were supposed to be watching out for him."

"What do you think I was doing, Bobby?" Dean exploded. "I've been watching out for that kid since I carried him out of the house when he was six months old! Don't you think it's killing me to know that he got hurt on my watch? That I couldn't do anything to stop it? Back off a little!"

"I'm sorry," Bobby rubbed his eyes. "You're right. You can't be everywhere at once. I been stressing ever since you told me it was a witch and not a ghost. Managed to make up all sorta nightmare scenarios in my head. How long do they expect to have him in surgery?"

"No telling," Dean hung his head. "I'm sorry I snapped on you, Bobby. I'm worried too."

"Let's get back in there before that guy sitting next to Jess thinks I killed ya," Bobby squeezed Dean's shoulder. "He didn't look too kindly on me when I dragged you outta there."

"It's all good," Dean laughed as they went back in. "I could take you out any day of the week anyway, old man."

"Oh, now it's old man," Bobby cuffed the back of his head, which only got another laugh.

Jess smiled at Bobby, but stayed quiet. Carl seemed a lot calmer now that she'd offered him a compassionate ear, but she couldn't deny that she was still worried and getting more so with every minute that passed. No matter what Dean said about Sam's ability to bounce back, she'd never seen her boyfriend hurt before. She knew that he had been, obviously. It wasn't like the scar on his leg could be missed, even though he'd never been willing to share where or how he'd gotten it. Knowing he had been hurt was a lot different from seeing it happen, though.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Dean Sawyer?" a doctor wearing surgical scrubs walked in and looked around the room.

"Finally," Dean breathed, jumping to his feet. "Right here."

Three hours later and they were the only ones left in the waiting room other than Carl. Bobby had acted like a calming presence for everyone, especially as Jess got tenser. At one point she'd started to cry again, and Bobby pulled her aside to talk to her softly. He didn't say anything that Dean hadn't said already, but for a gruff old man, he managed to be awfully comforting.

"How is he?" Dean asked.

"He's in recovery now," the doctor told him. "We managed to get the artery repaired quickly. His appendix was removed and we did wind up having to take a section of his intestine out. He's also got a slight skull fracture, but I'm confident that he'll be fine. We do need to keep him at least overnight to guard against infection. Once he's settled we'll start him on IV antibiotics, but I think he's going to be perfectly okay once he heals up."

"When can we see him?" Dean demanded.

"Once he's out of recovery and settled in a room," the doctor said calmly. He was used to anxious family members. "He was very lucky. Things could have been much worse, but he seems to be extremely resilient. Um, Mr. Sawyer, do you mind if I speak with you in private about something, though."

Here it comes, Dean thought tiredly. The questions about all the scars. God, I hate hospitals.

"Mr. Sawyer, I wonder if you are aware of the…overabundance of injuries that your brother seems to have sustained over the years?" the doctor asked uncomfortably. "I saw evidence of quite a number of past broken bones in addition to all of the scars. I'm going to be blunt and ask. Has Sam ever been, or is he currently being abused?"

"No," Dean said. "He's accident-prone, that's all. And a daredevil. Those two things don't mix well."

"You're sure?" the doctor glanced pointedly at Bobby. And at the bruised knuckles on Dean's hand from when he'd punched the wall.

"That man would cut off his hands before he'd ever touch any of us," Dean's anger flared back up. "I mean Sam isn't exactly a small guy. It took five guys and a knife to the gut to take him down. I'm pretty sure he'd be able to handle himself against one old man if he needed to. Which he doesn't. As for me, I would die before I'd ever hurt my little brother. We were mugged and we fought back! So these," he waved his injured hand in the doctor's face. "These were from punching one of those sons of bitches in the face, not from hitting my brother!"

"I'm sorry," the doctor apologized, but didn't flinch away from the angry outburst. "It's part of my job to question things like this. No matter what the size of the patient, abuse can happen. Many times abuse victims, even if they do outsize their abuser, will refuse to fight back. Especially if it's been going on for a long time. Or if the abuser is someone they look up to, such as an older brother."

"Trust me when I say that Bobby has never raised a hand to either of us, and I have never raised a hand to Sam," Dean seethed. "Now I want to see him."

"He's still in recovery," the doctor reminded him. "You'll need to wait until he's settled in his room before we can allow you to see him."

"Hurry up and get him settled then," Dean ordered, stalking back into the waiting room.

"The usual?" Bobby asked.

"I hate hospitals," Dean said, figuring that was answer enough.

"The usual what?" Jess asked. Her boys tended to forget that she hadn't been around to know what 'usual' consisted of for them.

"Doctors tend to get curious about why we have so many bumps, bruises, broken bones, and scars," Dean explained. "Then they start asking questions. Even though we try to avoid hospitals, you wouldn't believe how many times Dad or Bobby has almost been arrested for child abuse over the years. Me too, once I got older. That idiot of a doctor actually thought Bobby or I were the ones who did that to him."

"Oh," Jess thought back to a class she'd taken back at Stanford on how to spot signs of abuse and how to approach and talk with abuse victims. She could remember being suspicious herself about where all of Sam's injuries had come from after taking that class. Ultimately she'd wound up dismissing her concerns since, while Sam didn't generally have a lot to say about his family, he hadn't seemed to ever be afraid of them.

Carl was looking at them oddly. Curiosity was written plainly all over his face, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. The past three hours had taught him that although Jess was someone he could talk comfortably with, Dean and Bobby were reluctant to say any more than was strictly necessary. He'd also seen Dean snap at one of the other men in the waiting room when the man had tried to complain to a passing nurse about how unsanitary it was for Dean to be wandering around in clothes that were covered in blood and had speculated about a number of reasons why he even had that much blood on him. For a minute he'd thought for sure that Dean was going to tear the man apart, and hadn't been entirely sure that Jess and Bobby would be able to hold him back. All things considered, it just seemed safer to let sleeping dogs lie.

They sat in silence for about another half hour, Jess still reaching out to squeeze Carl's hand encouragingly when his stress for his wife started to overtake him. Finally, the doctor stepped back into the room, staying prudently away from Dean.

"He's out of recovery and resting comfortably," he said. "You can go in and see him now, if you'd like. Room 217. He is on some fairly heavy-duty painkillers, so there's a very good chance that he'll be groggy or not quite himself."

Dean pushed past the doctor without a word. He glanced at the number on the first door he came to and strode off confidently. Jess and Bobby rushed after him, with Bobby throwing a quick thank you over his shoulder to the doctor.

Finding room 217, Dean burst through the door to see Sam staring vacantly up at the ceiling. He dragged his glassy eyes away from whatever he was looking at and looked slowly at Dean.

"Heyyy, big brother," Sam drawled. He looked down and poked a finger at the lower right side of his stomach. "Lookit. They din't even need to cut me open. Cut myself open."

"Don't do that," Dean slapped his fingers away from the wound. "You'll pop your stitches. How are you feeling?"

"Me?" Sam pointed to himself. "I feel awesome! Jessie! Hey!"

"Exactly how much pain medication is he on?" Jess wondered. "He only calls me Jessie when he's really drunk. I mean falling down, can't find the door drunk. He knows better otherwise."

"Kid's always been a lightweight," Bobby was trying, unsuccessfully, to contain his amusement.

Jess gave both coherent hunters a warning glare anyway. She did not want them getting it into their heads to take the hated nickname and run with it. They both looked at her innocently and she didn't trust their looks for a second, but walked over to give Sam a kiss on the cheek.

"You're so pretty," Sam patted at her face.

"You're high," she laughed at him.

"Yeah, but I feel awesome!" he repeated, smiling happily. "It hurts, but I don't even care. Look!"

He started poking at his stomach again to prove it. He winced in pain, but then laughed immediately afterwards. Dean and Jess both reached out to smack his hands away again.

"Might need to get the dosage on those pain pills reduced," Bobby was laughing openly now. "Otherwise this idjit's gonna rip his stitches out just cuz he thinks it's funny."

"I'll handcuff him to the bed before I let him do that," Dean said, which only got another laugh from Sam. "At least you've always been a happy drunk."

"Not drunk," Sam slurred. "High's a kite, but not drunk. These pain pills are great. Can I have another one?"

"That's how you get addicted, kiddo," Dean looked around to make sure there wasn't an actual pill bottle anywhere in sight. Satisfied that there wasn't, he turned to see Sam trying to sit up and swing his legs out of bed.

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" Jess put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back gently, but firmly. "You need to stay in bed, mister."

"Aw, c'mon Jessie," Sam whined. "I'm fine. I could go on another hunt right now!"

"How about we save that for another time?" Bobby laid a hand on Sam's other shoulder to discourage the younger man from trying to get up again. "Y'know, a time when you didn't just come out of major surgery."

"You're no fun, Uncle Bobby," Sam giggled.

"Uncle Bobby?" Dean was starting to think he should be videotaping this. "Sammy, you haven't called him that since you were twelve."

"That witch hurt my head," Sam pouted, scratching at the stitched up cut near his hairline from where he'd bashed his head against the mantle.

"Would you stop picking at your stitches?" Jess had to laugh at the way Sam was going from happy to pouty from one second to the next. "If you pull them out the doctor's just going to have to put them back in. Gotta say, I'm pretty surprised you can even feel your head with all the drugs they pumped into you."

"Doctor said you fractured your skull," Dean said. "Always thought it would take more than just a little bump to crack that hard head."

"I'm gonna throw up," Sam said happily, ignoring both of them.

He said it so casually that it took both Dean and Jess a beat to get what he'd said to compute. Their eyes both widened and they scrambled for a bucket or trash can, but Bobby was already there, holding a basin under Sam's face.

"I have the oldest ears in here and I'm still the only one who actually listened to what he said," Bobby shook his head. He rubbed the back of Sam's neck as he threw up into the basin.

When Sam sat back and pushed the basin away he still, amazingly, looked pretty cheerful. There was actual pain written on his face now, though.

"God, my head usually only hurts this bad after a vision," Sam raised his hands to clamp his head on both sides. It looked like he was trying to hold his skull together.

"A what?" all three other hunters looked at each other in confusion.

"Sammy, what do you mean about visions?" Dean took over.

"Visions!" Sam nodded happily, although the movement caused him to groan. "Like, I see things and then they happen. Used to be just ni…ni'mer…bad dreams at night."

"Nightmares," Jess supplied. She shared a concerned look with Dean and Bobby.

"That's it," Sam agreed. "Startin' to happen in the day now. When I'm awake."

"Okay, but what kind of visions?" Dean's eyes were clouded with tension. "Why haven't you said anything about this, Sammy? When did these visions start?"

"Maybe right now ain't the time to play twenty questions with the kid," Bobby suggested.

"Started a coupla days before you came to get me at school," Sam cheerfully ignored Bobby. "Dreamed that the demon came for Jessie. Why'd ya think I was in such a rush to get back?"

The mention of the night Jessica had been attacked made her jolt. Although it was memorable, it certainly wasn't a fond memory.

"I c'n see people die in my head," Sam continued. "Dunno why. Haven't been able to see enough to save anyone yet. 'Cept for Jess."

"We should wrap this up, kids," Bobby noticed Sam was slurring more and more of his words. "Sam needs his rest."

"Nah, I'm good," Sam laughed. "Jus slep when they were poking 'round in here."

He pointed to his stomach again, but to everyone's relief, didn't touch it. Jess's medical training was kicking in and she was starting to notice that Sam was about done too. His eyes were starting to get even glassier and he was generally staring into a blank corner of the room rather than looking at them while he talked.

Jess was just getting ready to agree with Bobby when there was a soft knock. They all looked up to see Carl standing in the door.

"I'm sorry to bother you," he apologized.

"Hey, it's all good," Sam threw his arms out. "We c'n have a party!"

"No parties for you for a while, tiger," Dean said.

"Hi Carl," Jess waved him further into the room. "Is your wife out of surgery?"

"She is. Finally," a relieved look came over his face. "You were right. She's going to be okay. The doctors said it was pretty touch and go for a bit, but they have her stabilized. She's got a long hospital stay ahead of her and probably a couple more surgeries, but she'll live."

"That's wonderful!" Jess gave him a quick hug, which earned her a dirty look from Sam.

"I wanted to thank you for being there for me, even though you were just as worried about him as I was about my wife," Carl said. "Really, I don't know how to explain how grateful I am."

"You don't have to," Jess smiled. "It helped both of us."

"Well if there's ever anything you need, anything at all, call me. Please," he handed her a business card.

He walked back out of the room as Jess looked at the card in her hand. The name on it meant almost nothing to her, other than knowing that she'd become awfully fond of the middle-aged man, but Bobby raised an eyebrow appreciatively.

"Carl Stalter," he said. "I'll be damned. He's one of the best judges in all of South Dakota. Having a contact like him could come in mighty handy someday."

"I din't like him," Sam grumbled.

"You just didn't like him because I gave him a hug," Jess brushed those loose strands of hair out of his eyes again. "Don't worry. I still love you more."

"We really should think about getting some rest," Bobby said. "It's been a long day for everyone and despite what stoner boy over here thinks, he should get some more sleep."

"I'll stay here with him tonight," Dean offered. "He'll most likely wind up roaming the halls and terrorizing all the nurses if I don't."

"I don't terr…tar…I don't do that!" Sam tried to look indignant.

"Uh huh," Dean patted his shoulder. "You two head back and get some rest."

"Make sure you get some sleep, too," Jess ordered, putting her small finger in his face. "The last thing we need is for you to wind up in here because you collapsed from exhaustion."

"Yes, ma'am," Dean ticked off a mock salute.

"We'll be back in the morning," Bobby smiled. "C'mon Jess, we'll take my car. Dean would have a canary if you asked to drive his."

They walked down the hall joking with one another while Dean found an extra pillow and blanket stashed in the small closet next to Sam's bed. His brother was back to staring up at a crack in the ceiling, but his eyes kept slipping closed for longer periods of time.

He stayed up a few more minutes until he was sure that Sam was well and truly passed out and settled himself into the uncomfortable recliner. Before he let himself drift off, he spared another concerned glance at Sam, though.

"Whatever these visions are that you have going on, you better be okay, Sammy," he whispered. "Jess and I need you to stick around, little brother so you damn well better be okay."

XXXXXXXXXX

Here's another useless fact that probably no one wants to know: The fractured skull that the doctor talked about Sam having came from the fact that I fractured my skull back in March 2016 in a horseback riding accident. Always, always, ALWAYS wear a helmet people. If I'd been thrown just a little more to the right, I wouldn't be here to write this because I was one of those stubborn people who got over-confident and insisted that 20+ years of riding experience meant that nothing unexpected could happen and I couldn't be thrown anymore. Let me tell you, there are absolutely no pain or anti-nausea meds that can completely take away the pain and nausea that come from a fractured skull (it's also the reason I get the migraines that I do). Like I said, useless fact. I just like to throw random "get to know me" type of facts in here and there.

For a filler chapter, I don't think this came out too horribly I hope. I amused myself with Sam's medicated stupor and tried to put the storyline back on track by bringing his visions up early. I should have the next chapter posted by Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. I hope everyone has a great weekend!