Chapter 4: The Task At Hand...
Sam stood and took a few towels from the rack by the door, laying them out on the bed…he dug around in his duffle, feeling for the, sadly enough, familiar shape of the medkit he kept on hand…he sighed as he opened it, setting it down on the dresser for a moment. He had acquired an increasingly wide variety of medical supplies, now including various pharmaceutical-grade drugs. He took a plastic-encased needle out of the box, setting it aside for a moment. He swiftly carded his hands into a pair of hospital-grade vinyl gloves. He peeled open the wrapper of the needle and withdrew the plastic tube before discarding the empty sheath…he removed the lid capping the thin, sharp sliver of metal before lifting a vial from the box. He pierced the rubber stopper at the top, withdrawing a moderate dose of the liquid within before placing the vial safely in its holder in the box, he withdrew a second vial, piercing its stopper and drawing out a good, heavy dose of the viscous liquid before returning that vial to the box as well. He gently depressed the plunger, slowly dispelling the remaining air in the tube, until the liquid traced along the needles' edge, beading up upon it. He set the needle down for a moment. He picked a cotton pad and dosed it liberally with iodine, then grabbed a length of rubber tube from the box… he picked up the needle and went back to Dean's side.
He set the needle carefully on the cabinet and set about wrapping the tube around his brother's arm, he tightened it, lifting the limb to flex it a bit…a vein appeared, protruding from beneath the skin…Sam wiped the iodine-coated pad over the area liberally before discarding it into the trash can…he lifted the needle, double checking it to make sure there was no air inside and then he swept the needle's tip deftly into Dean's arm, piercing the flesh and vein wall in a rapid pass…he depressed the plunger slowly and steadily, the distilling liquid flowing smoothly into his brother's system…his brother never stirred…once empty, he removed the needles' sharp tip with practiced ease and set it aside…he released the rubber tube and let the medicine work it's way into Dean's system…he stood and exited the bathroom to return to the motel room proper and set about prepping for what he had to do next…he lay out the supplies he needed on the small table, dragging it over to the bedside, he drug the chair over as well…once he was ready, he went to Dean, his once ragged breathing was now slow and steady as the sedative kicked in….
Sam slipped one of his lengthy arms under Dean's torso and the other he tucked into the hollow under his brother's knees…he was lighter than Sam remembered…Sam's mind shifted back momentarily to the hateful night that Dean had died…he had insisted on placing his brother's body in the coffin after Lilith had killed him…Sam snapped back to the present, the terrible memory lingering darkly in his mind despite his best efforts to quell it…Sam realized now just how much leaner Dean had become as his body tried to cope with the lack of sustenance from Dean's lack of eating, as well as his near complete loss of rest, not to mention the alcohol and the sheer physical demands they often were called upon to accomplish as they rid the world of evil…Sam was shocked Dean's body hadn't gone into shock, even if the blood loss wasn't huge, his heavily taxed system could easily have broken down with the addition of this name strain…
Sam lay Dean gently over the towels he had laid down over the firm plane of the mattress. He rolled the fabric of the boxers back on both sides and set to cleaning the wounds….the ones on the opposite side of the fresh ones were already knitting together, beginning to heal. He cleaned them, rubbing antibacterial gel into the wounded flesh before wiping his hands and placing bandages over the cuts. He moved back to the fresh wounds…at least eight of them required stitches…possibly a couple more, if they didn't show signs of healing and stop bleeding soon…
Sam withdrew a needle and surgical thread from the box and set about lacing the thread through the needle's eye...once he had accomplished that, he moved on to the task at hand. He gently gather the edges of the deepest wound between his fingers and pressed the needle through the flesh…he quickly fell into a rhythm as he wove the needle in and out of the flesh, tying the strands between each stitch to secure it…he worked through the next couple of hours, stitching the deep wounds with precision, despite his own achingly weary body's complaints…the first hint of dawn was slipping through the gaps in the window shades…the faintest glow of light at the edge of the night….Sam had ended up stitching a total of 11 cuts, then, he cleaned them, applied the gel and bandaged them…he sighed deeply as he rolled the edge of the boxers down…he stood, pushing the chair back away from him…he stretched deeply, attempting to release the pent-up tension from his body…it creaked and crackled a bit, but he felt better after the stretching….he move the table back to its place by the door, along with the chair. He gathered up the waste, tucking it into a plastic bag , including the needle and the now bloody vinyl gloves, that he would discard when the left next…he peeled back the covers of the other bed and bodily lifted his brother's unconscious form , swiveling he placed him down on the bed, pulling the covers over him…