Dangerous Beings.
Summary... Sam finds out the hard way that supernatural beings aren't the worst things out there. Sam's 13, Dean 17. Rated T. This fic does contain child abuse, but it wont be graphic, if you don't like please don't read.
Disclaimer... Not mine and I'm beginning to think they never will be.
A.N... Thanks to all reviewers, both the old ones and the new. I really do appreciate each and everyone.
Chapter 6. Breakdowns.
The walk to the room seemed to take an eternity. Reaching a nurses station, Melanie excused herself, telling them Sam was in room 218, the last door on the left. Arriving at the room Dean stopped. He couldn't do it, he couldn't go in. How could he go in and comfort Sam, knowing it was all his fault. Stepping back he looked at his father for understanding.
"It's okay son, whenever you're ready." John reassured.
Taking a deep breath John opened the door. The room held two beds, one empty; the other held what to John looked like a victim of a car accident. The poor child's face was a mess. "I guess Sam's not here yet". John thought out loud. His eyes glanced once more over the other occupant of the room, before they widened in horror after catching the name written above the bed.
"Sammy?"
A lone tear trickled from each eye and fell over John's rugged cheeks, as he took the final steps to the side of the bed that held his youngest child, the child that he had been unable to recognize.
"Oh God Sammy. I'm so sorry". Came a voice from behind him, as Dean found the courage to finally enter.
Standing either side of Sam, the two older Winchesters didn't know what to do. If they stroked his hair, or held his hand, would it hurt him all the more? Because it seemed to them that there wasn't a single piece of Sam that wasn't bruised, anywhere. Sam lay still and small on the hospital bed, his face half hidden by his extra long hair, his nose covered with a cast. His left leg was raised moderately, held in a contraption that looked to be more torturing, than helping. His left hand swathed in splints and bandages. I.V's fed nutrients, antibiotics and pain medication through a vein in his right hand, and John and Dean could both see the failed attempts to find a suitable one and the scabbed over track marks the bastards who had taken him had done.
Even beneath the sheets and hospital gown they could see just how much weight Sam had actually lost. Always a tall and gangly child for his age, he now looked positively skeletal, his bones practically fighting to break free from his skins confines. Finally, John taking Sam's uninjured right hand, and being careful of the I.V's, and Dean stroking his hair, they sat, neither one talking just willing Sam to make it through.
It had been a week since Sam had been brought in. A week in which the doctor had kept him sedated. A week of ups and downs. Sam's fever had looked to have been on the way down only for it to spike viciously back up, where it had stayed until yesterday morning. His eye had started to reduced in size, but still not enough for tests to be carried out, his leg was healing slowly, as was his hand. The restraints had been removed at John's insistence; he just couldn't stand them anymore. But the best news so far had arrived yesterday, the results of the aids test had come back and both Winchesters had heaved a sigh of relief when the doctor had told them. Negative.
Dr. Walsh had just left after talking to Dean; today they were going to start weaning Sam off the sedatives and allow him to wake up. Dean sat in his usual chair, just stroking his brother's hair. He hadn't spoken to Sam in the seven days he had been there. Saving all his words for when his brother finally woke. This was not the time for Winchester pride, it wasn't something that they could brush over as usual, they were going to have to discuss this and so Dean stayed quiet waiting the moment he knew would eventually arrive.
Looking away from Sam for a moment, Dean's eye was caught by an image on the TV, which was playing with the sound low. A news report was repeating an interview with one of the officers on Sam's case. Neither Winchester had taken much interest of the coverage so far, but Dean was interested now. He wasn't so much interested in what was being said, his attention was on what was behind the officer. Feeling nauseous he bolted for the bathroom, thoughts raging through his head.
"How could you have been so stupid? You knew there was something off about that house, you felt it, but you chose to ignore it. You're supposed to be a hunter, and you ignored your own gut feelings. And, to make matters worse you returned to the place again, and you still ignored the feelings you were getting. You could have saved Sammy sooner, he was right there and you let him go again.'
Losing the battle with his stomach he heaved the meager contents into the toilet, still trying to release more when there was nothing left to lose. Tears streaming down his face, he dropped to the floor, knees hugging his chest, his arms covering his head.
Officer Vose had refused to give up on this case. For some unknown reason Sam Winchester had left an impression on the officer's heart. When he wasn't working he made sure to call at the hospital to check on Sam, and the two other Winchesters, which was why when he entered today a look of shock registered on his face at finding Sam alone. He had been coming to visit everyday and this would be the first time that either John or Dean hadn't been there. Hell they guarded Sam almost like he was the king of England, barking at anyone they didn't know, demanding to know what each and every new drug or test was for, so to find him alone had George worried. Knowing it should be Dean that was on guard duty, George stepped further into the room. Checking the small bathroom, his heart sank at the sight that greeted him.
"Hey Dean. C'mon lad. You can't let Sammy see you like this and you know they expect him to wake up soon."
"I could've saved him, George. I was there twice. I could have got to him sooner. I could have got the bastards that took him, that did this, but I ignored it." Dean cried out between sobs.
"Ignored what? I don't understand."
"I knew there was something off about that house. I felt it but I ignored it and Sammy got hurt all the more. I felt my brother, but it looked so normal so I ignored how I was feeling. How could I do that to him? I could have saved him two weeks ago, how could I have just left him there?"
Finally understanding, George attempted words of comfort.
"You couldn't have known for sure, Dean. It's not your fault and even if you had known, look what they did to Sam, they would have just done the same to you."
"I don't care; at least Sam would have been safe. He wouldn't have been alone, I would have been there. I could've protected him."
"Dean none of this is your fault, you have to stop blaming yourself. It won't do any good and it certainly won't help Sam." George paused at this point. "Shit, Dean. I'm sorry we just thought that the Burton's had picked up the missing persons flyer. It didn't enter our heads that you had been there. This could be our first break; we only have sketchy descriptions so far. Do you think you could describe who you saw?" Dean nodded in answer before George continued. "I'll send somebody over. Dean you have to think positively. If you hadn't have gone back, they could still be at that house, Sam with them. You have to believe, and from what you've said it fits, that they left because you refused to give up on your brother. Now c'mon, get up and get back in that room, the little guy shouldn't be waking up alone."
Knowing that George was right, Sam shouldn't wake up alone and he shouldn't see him like this, Dean got unsteadily to his feet. Trudging back into the room, Dean knew George was wrong about one thing though. He could have saved Sam; he should have saved Sam, hell he shouldn't have let him go in the first place. Sitting back down and resuming to stroke his younger brother's hair, Dean wondered for the first time if he had the strength enough to help Sammy recover. How could he help when it was all his fault to begin with?
Dean was due back from the motel, and John just finishing a lukewarm cup of coffee, when Sam first started to stir. Fighting his way through the layers of consciousness, his mind was a peaceful blank slate until the pain hit, and the memories came flooding back sending tears to his eyes where they flowed freely from behind his closed lids. Refusing to open his eyes and find him self still on the filthy mattress in that room, he lay there and allowed his pain, frustration and anguish be released.
His brain registered after a few minutes that something was different, the smell was different, he felt different, he felt warm and clean, and although he was in pain he felt oddly safe. He was just about to open his eyes and take a look, when a shadow fell across his face blocking out the heat of the light he could feel. The touch of somebody stroking his hair had all Sam's safe feelings crashing back, and him cringing, and in terror in seconds. Opening his eyes, his mind couldn't register who the person was; just that he was hovering dangerously close. Still thinking that he was in his permanent nightmare, Sam started to sob inconsolably, gulping down breath's he pleaded to be left alone, all the while trying to get away from the unwanted touching. Strong hands gripping his shoulders had Sam screaming and struggling all the more, so much so he was in danger of falling of the bed, but he wasn't aware and didn't care, he just had to get away.
"I can't do this anymore. Why am I being punished? What did I do wrong? Please don't do this again; I don't want to live like this. Please just let me go, please just kill me now, just let me die."
John had just drained the last of his coffee, placing the cup in the trash he happened to glance at his youngest boy, instantly saddened when he caught sight of the tears that coursed down his bruised and battered cheeks.
"Hey, Sammy. Its okay, you're safe now. Dad's here and Dean will be soon." John whispered, whilst stroking his baby's hair.
Seeing the tears increase he leaned over his child. The result was instant, Sam started to struggle. Wanting nothing more than to comfort him and stop him from hurting himself John gripped his shoulders, the reaction was like a match to a flame. Sam cried harder, he started thrashing about and screaming, nearly falling off the bed, all the while crying words of distress that broke the older man's heart. Knowing he needed help he pushed repeatedly at the call button, whilst trying to keep Sam from falling. Nurses rushed into the room.
"What happened?" Melanie asked.
"He woke up. He was crying. He started to panic. I just tried to stop him hurting himself. I should have known it would set him off. I'm sorry Sammy, I'm so sorry." The last words almost shouted, hoping his son could hear them.
"Page Dr. Walsh, now. Mr. Winchester you're going to have to wait outside, I'll come and find you when we have got Sam settled."
Nodding in resignation, John left the room and started walking aimlessly through the hospital corridors. Turning a corner, he bumped into someone but didn't care. It was only when the other person tugged on his shirt and spoke that he finally looked up. That was all it took, one look into his Dean's eyes had the normally stoic, senior Winchester crying profusely into the arms of his oldest son.
Sam was floating. His mind, controlled by drugs, shutting down once again. Just on the verge of consciousness he became aware of a smell. A smell he recognized, but hadn't smelt in a while. A smell he associated with safety. A smell of Pears soap and old leather. Feeling reassurance for the first time, he welcomed the darkness that beckoned.
A.N... Not going to tell you when I'm going to post in future as every time I do something comes up and I end up posting earlier. Hope you like this chapter and things aren't going too slow for you, catch you after chapter 7. Oh and I don't know if Pears soap is known anywhere other than England but it is the best smell ever, always reminds me of my childhood. Peanut x