It seems like everytime I upload a new chapter the alerts slow down, so here's hoping they work perfectly this time. crosses fingers I'm encouraged by everyone's willingness to read on, considering I've permanently maimed our beloved Dean. Sorry guys - it had to be done. I just hope I don't let you down with the remainer of the story. There's plenty more to come. So read on, and please keep letting me know what you think. You guys rock!
Disclaimer: Don't own the boys, don't own the friends, but the story is all mine.
Dean's fever burned hot, making a valiant effort to assist the antibiotics with ridding his body of infection, while creating a struggle to keep his body temperature under control. It took time for the infection to retreat from his body, but Sam waited patiently, allowing his brother all the time he needed to heal. Dean didn't wake fully until three days later. He'd wavered in and out of consciousness several times in that period, but only for a few minutes at a time, and he was never lucid enough to do much more than mumble incomprehensible words and circle unfocused eyes around the room. He'd said Sam's name a time or two, and his body had stiffened noticeably once when one of the nurses tried to change the bandages on his leg while he was conscious. But otherwise, there was no sign that he was even aware of his surroundings.
When he finally did come to, fully alert, he panicked. Sam wasn't at his side as he'd expected little brother to be, and though the younger was only a few feet away in his own bed, grudgingly obeying the compromise he'd made with his doctor, Sam's lack of presence unnerved Dean more than he cared to admit.
The two brother's now shared a room, not because either of their doctor's felt it to be the best solution, but because Sam had threatened to check himself out AMA if they didn't come up with a way for him to be with Dean at all times. After taking a few hours to rest and regroup the first day Sam had vowed to do whatever it took to help Dean through the injury, and doctor's be damned. He'd spent the entire first night curled up painfully in a chair beside his brother, angering his doctor when, after three attempts to order him back to his own room, Sam had blatantly announced that he no longer needed to be a patient. Except, the gashes in his chest had chosen that moment to pull and rebel and Sam had found himself on the floor panting in agony seconds later.
At that, the doctor had jumped on his only opportunity and had Sam transported back into his own room, administering a sleeping aid and pain killer to a protesting Sam. The boy had fought sleep, his system so used to mild doses of sleeping pills that they barely registered with him unless he allowed them to, and stumbled his way back into Dean's room as soon as he was certain the doctor was gone. From there, his doctor had reluctantly suggested that Sam and Dean be moved to a double room under the condition that Sam rest for an hour in his own bed for every fifteen minutes he sat beside Dean. Sam didn't like it, but Missouri and Bobby had both sided with the doctor on that, and he was too weak to protest.
But now, not being at Dean's side when he woke up, Sam was pissed.
"Sammy," Dean cried out with a gasp, eyes popping wide in terror when he realized his only lifeline was not next to him.
Sam jumped, his hazy restfulness clearing immediately as he scrambled out of bed to be at Dean's side. Despite his painful injuries, he made it across the room to the older hunter's bed faster than Bobby, who had been pulled from actual slumber at the sound of Dean's voice. Sam eased himself into the chair beside Dean's bed, forcing any sign of pain from his face because he knew that would be the first thing Dean picked up on if he didn't. This couldn't be about Sam; not now.
"Hey, Dean, it's alright. I'm here. You're safe." Sam's hands grabbed on tight to Dean's, needing the chick flick moment even if Dean didn't want it. He was surprised when Dean didn't pull away, and even more surprised when his brother's grip tightened considerably on his own.
"Oh God, Sammy, I thought I'd lost you. Are you okay?" Dean's voice came out weak and forced, but there was no mistaking the fear behind it and at that moment Sam knew one thing; Dean remembered everything.
"I'm fine, Dean," Sam assured. "A little sore, a few stitches, but give me a week and I'll be as good as new. How are you feeling?
Dean paused to take stock of his situation. "Alright, I guess. I kinda feel like I'm floating."
"That's the pain meds they have you on. I felt that way too when I first woke up. You'll get used to it."
"Did we get it?" Dean asked, lowering his voice so that Sam had to lean in to hear him. For a minute, Sam hesitated, almost unsure what Dean was asking. The fight with the creature seemed like a lifetime ago. Sam had spent so much time in his last several days worrying about Dean's future, he'd actually managed to forget the reason why they were there in the first place.
"I'm not sure," Sam finally admitted. "There've been no more attacks, but it could just be lying in wait. You were the last one to see it. I was out cold."
Dean nodded, pulling his bottom lip under his front teeth in concentration. "So we might need to go back out there, just to be sure." It wasn't really a statement, but not really a question either. And Sam could sense some underlying fear in the tone.
"I'm getting help looking into it right now," Sam assured his brother. "We're not going to do anything unless we're sure."
"But it could still be out there," Dean prompted.
Sam sighed. "Yes, Dean. It could still be out there. But we're just not sure yet."'
"But if it is, we have to go after it again."
"Let's not worry about that right now," Sam encouraged, trying to get Dean's mind off that subject. He was getting dangerously close to a point where Sam might have to admit the details of Dean's injury, and he just wasn't quite ready yet. He wanted a few more minutes to feel out his brother's frame of mind before dropping the bombshell that would completely destroy him.
"Right now, we just need to be focusing on getting better." Sam sacrificed himself, wincing on purpose as he grabbed his chest with his gauze wrapped arm. The move was a success, pulling Dean's thoughts away from the hunt and back onto his little brother. Sam almost felt guilty, knowing that the last thing Dean needed to be doing was worrying about him.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Dean demanded, noting the forthcoming wince. "You don't look so hot. Maybe you should go lay down again."
Sam shrugged, shooting a half smile in Dean's direction. "I told you I'll be alright. But thanks for your concern."
"Your waking up is the calmest I've seen Sam since you got here. I think he's going to be just fine."
Dean turned his head to the other side of the bed when Bobby spoke for the first time, a look of shock on his face as he realized the man had been standing in the room the entire time without Dean noticing him. "Bobby, what are you doing here?" he questioned, unable to hide his surprise.
"He and Missouri are the ones who found us," Sam volunteered. "If it wasn't for their combined efforts you and I would both be dead for sure."
"Missouri? She's here too?" Dean's voice rose at the thought of the motherly black woman who never seemed to give him a break. She always knew what he was thinking seconds before it happened, and though he cared for the woman dearly, that omniscience of hers was unnerving.
"She just went to get some shut-eye," Bobby announced, inching closer to the head of the bed. "She'll be back later this evening."
"How did you find us?" Dean asked, suddenly realizing the sheer impossibility of the rescue. "We didn't tell anyone where we were going; we didn't leave a trail; there was nothing to go on."
Bobby smiled, and once again launched into the story of Sam and Dean's rescue, embellishing just a little more in this version than he had in Sam's version. Amused, Sam found himself wondering just how far-fetched the story could become after being told twenty times...or thirty...or forty, but he really didn't care because the long story gave him plenty of time to study Dean and prepare himself for what was to come next. He knew he couldn't put it off much longer or Dean would end up finding out through the hospital staff.
Sam also noted that Bobby had managed to gloss over the gory extent of their injuries, saying only that he'd found the two of them unconscious when he got there and that their injuries, if untreated, were life-threatening.
"You mean both of us were out for more than a day and a half?" Dean worried, eyes once again looking Sam up and down for any sign of residual problems from the delayed rescue. "How is that possible? How did we not wake up?" The unspoken question: How could I not have taken care of Sammy when he needed me most?
Bobby glanced from Dean to Sam and then back to Dean again, his eyes wise with experience. "I think your bodies just shut down for a while. It was a way for them to heal and get away from the brutality of the situation."
Dean nodded, visibly seeming to accept the solution Bobby offered. But Sam could sense the tenseness in Dean's shoulders and the choppiness of his head bob. "You couldn't have done anything differently," Sam chided his brother, realizing immediately that Dean blamed himself for not getting Sam out earlier. One Winchester placing blame on himself was enough, and this time it was Sam's turn.
"Your leg was so messed up; there's no way you could have even gotten yourself out of there, let alone me too. Don't blame yourself." The words poured from Sam's mouth before he could stop himself, and it was all he could do to keep from clamping a hand across his mouth when he realized his mistake. Dammit. Shut up, Sam. Just shut up!
Sam watched, breath held in, as Dean tried to move his head enough to see to the bottom of the bed. The mattress lay flat, and Dean couldn't see far enough to notice his leg. But that didn't stop him from asking the question. "It's weird," he began. "My leg really doesn't hurt all that much; just a dull throb. I guess it looked worse than it actually was." He glanced at Sam with pleading eyes, as though he knew what was about to come but he wanted Sam to tell him differently.
Sam clenched his fist and grit his teeth, swallowing the huge lump that had formed in his throat before opening his mouth to speak. Bobby moved closer still, preparing himself for whatever was to come because he knew Sam was in no shape to be fending off an irate and agitated Dean.
"Dean, about your leg..." Sam began, closing the hand of his good arm tightly around Dean's fist. I can't do this. I can't do this. I CAN'T DO THIS!
The elder Winchester looked at his younger brother expectantly, but even though Sam knew Dean was prepared for bad, he realized the older man had no idea exactly what was coming at him. His demand confirmed that. "Sam, don't even tell me it's gonna take time to heal. You know I go stir crazy just sitting around in a hospital. Just get me a pair of crutches and get me the hell out of here."
Shaking his head firmly, Sam bit his lip and tried desperately to force back the odd watering sensation forming in his eyes. "Dean, that's not it. Please, just...listen. I don't know how to say this."
That sobered Dean up fast, and his eyes grabbed onto Sam's and held strong. What aren't you saying Sam?
He chose to paraphrase the doctor, deciding that the less emotional he was telling Dean, the better chance he had at spitting it out. "There was a lot of nerve and muscle damage, and both bones were shattered," Sam began, trying to suppress the apologetic tinge to his voice. "We were exposed to the elements for a day and a half without medical care, and infection set in. They did all they could, Dean, but..."
"Uh uh," Dean growled, now glaring at his little brother. "Don't say it Sam. Don't you dare say it."
Sam would have done anything to obey Dean's command, even if it meant taking his brother's place. Tears welled in his eyes and he wiped them away angrily, pissed that his emotions had dared betray him when Dean needed him most. "I'm sorry, Dean. It just... they..."
"I mean it Sam," Dean threatened again, unwilling to hear the words and doing whatever he could to keep them lost within Sam's subconscious. If he doesn't say it, it won't be true.
"Dean, they couldn't save your leg," Sam finally blurted out, looking to Bobby for support and reassurance that he'd done the right thing.
"That's not funny, Sam," Dean snarled, struggling to prop himself up on elbows weak from fever and lack of use. "Take it back. You take it back, you bastard."
Sam flinched as Dean lashed out verbally, wishing with everything he had that he actually could take back what he'd said...and for that matter he wished he could take back the whole stupid hunting excursion he'd dragged Dean on. "Dean, you know if there was anything I could have done..."
But Dean wasn't really listening to anything Sam had to say; he didn't seem to care about much more than the matter at hand as he continued his rant. "How dare you say something like that to me?" he screamed, continuing to dwell on Sam's announcement. "You're my brother, Sammy. You of all people..."
"I'm so sorry, Dean," Sam cried helplessly, not even caring about the tears falling down his face now because he'd seen the moisture start up in Dean's eyes, and his brother would need to know he wasn't alone in crying. It was weird how their family worked; one sacrificing himself for another, one letting his guard down in order to make the other feel better.
Sam's mind was spinning out of control, desperately fighting for something to hold onto as he tried to figure out what to do next. Bobby seemed lost, unsure of himself in the presence of two grown men both about to lose it. Sam wished Missouri was here; more than anything he wanted the woman to appear in the doorway and tell Dean to get hold of himself. Hell, he wanted to tell Dean to get hold of himself, that it wasn't the end of the world. But the words just didn't seem to want to form, and in some ways Sam knew it was because he didn't believe them himself.
Standing unsteadily, Sam inched the tiny distance between the chair and Dean's bed, drawing himself up to appear taller and wiser despite the pain it caused in his tender upper body. "Dean..." Sam began, but didn't get any further.
"I want to see for myself," Dean demanded, interrupting his brother, his voice shaking uncontrollably, his hands quivering to match. "Help me up."
"Dean, please..." Sam didn't know for sure why he was so against letting his brother see the leg for himself. Maybe it was because that was the final confirmation, and once Dean had looked there was no way Sam could pretend it wasn't true. Maybe Sam just wasn't ready to deal with the emotional turmoil Dean would undoubtedly experience; maybe he wasn't ready to deal with his own. But the younger man pleaded with his brother not to look.
"I have to do it," Sammy," Dean insisted. "Don't take this away from me." His voice still wavered, not nearly the strong facade of a hunter and big brother that Dean normally produced, but Sam gave in with a weak nod to Bobby.
Sam pressed the button on the motorized bed to raise the head up, but Dean was too stubborn and impatient to wait and immediately began struggling to right himself. Bobby sprang to action, gripping Dean under the armpits and lifted the weak young man with little effort. He didn't say a word as the outline of his missing leg came into view, but the reaction was still quite noticeable. With a low moan, Dean began shaking harder, his breathing becoming shallower and the heart monitor began shrieking.
"You've got to calm down," Sam quietly ordered as Bobby settled Dean back against the now erect head of the bed. Using his own weakness as an excuse to sit, Sam rested on the edge of Dean's bed and circled his fingers loose but firm around Dean's stiffened arm. "We're going to get through this, Dean. Together. You and me. I just need you to calm down for me. Breathe, Dean, breathe."
Dean turned glassy eyes on his brother, unaware of the moisture on his cheeks, or maybe just not caring. "Help me get the blankets off," he asked, voice flat and emotionless. The monitor slowed just enough to go into a steady rhythm, and Sam wondered if it would be enough to keep the hospital staff away. He almost hoped it wouldn't.
"Dean..." Sam warned, not liking where this was going. Even he hadn't seen Dean's leg without the blankets on it; having turned away or closed his eyes every time the nurses came to clean it and change the bandages.
"I have to see the whole thing," Dean continued. "It's not real until I see it."
Sam looked to Bobby, eyes begging him to do something, anything. After having settled Dean against the vertical mattress, the older man had crossed his arms against his chest, backing off a few inches but still hovering dangerously close to the two young men. He shrugged, offering his silent apologies to Sam as his body language told the boy there was nothing he could do. If Dean wanted to see the damage done to his leg, let him see.
But what if I don't want to see, Sam's mind protested, feeling himself begin to lose control again. He finally relented, knowing it was a bad idea even as he pulled the covers down from where they sat at Dean's mid-section. "You're really sure you want to see this now?"
"No," the older brother scoffed. "I don't want to see this now. I don't want to see this later. I don't want this to be happening period. But I don't have much choice in the matter, now do I? So it might as well be now."
Sam couldn't deny the logic, despite his continued misgivings, and he pulled the covers the rest of the way down. He found himself involuntarily closing his eyes as he got to the bottom, and then turned to face Dean before actually opening them again. It wasn't his to see first.
The look on Dean's face was one of pure devastation, and Sam was convinced he could actually feel his own heart breaking watching his brother's hopes and dreams get dashed so viciously. Just as Sam had been unable to tear his gaze away from the sight when he first saw Dean's missing leg hidden underneath the blanket, now Dean stared transfixed to his missing limb.
Following Dean's unwavering gaze, Sam finally forced himself to look too, mentally kicking his insensitivity when his breath hitched involuntarily at the sight. He recovered quickly, gripping Dean's arm harder in reassurance. The sight wasn't gory as he'd originally expected; at least not the part that was visible. The gauze wrapping Dean's newly acquired stump was clean and stark white, and the rest of Dean's leg looked perfectly healthy. There was no bruising, no blood, and aside from the aged scars from injuries past there was no sign his leg had experienced any trauma at all. The thing was, if it wasn't for the fact that some of his leg was physically missing there was no sign that anything had been wrong. Sam supposed that may have been the problem; nothing looked wrong. It was as if the whole injury from the bear trap had never even happened because there was no sign of it.
"It's gone," Dean choked out, his voice barely above a whisper as he doubled over on himself, collapsing in his grief. "It's just...gone."
"I know," Sam said, just as softly. "I know, Dean. I'm sorry." He rotated, ignoring the pain as he gathered Dean into his arms and pulled him tight against his chest, softly murmuring his consolations to the distraught man breaking before his very eyes. This wasn't Dean; not even close.
"I'm scared, Sammy," Dean moaned, clutching tightly to his little brother, shaky hands fisting the material of Sam's t-shirt in desperation.
"I know you are, Dean. I am too." The revelation came as a shock to Sam, not believing that he'd just voiced that out loud. You weren't supposed to let him know you're scared, Sam berated himself. Dammit, Sam, you have to be strong. He needs you. But the mental pep talk, if that's what you would call it, did little to alleviate Sam's fears, and he found it comforting to be in Dean's arms even if his brother was the one needing the comforting. They held onto each other for many minutes, longer than they'd ever held each other before. Both cried, both shook with the adrenaline coursing though their exhausted bodies, and neither one wanted to let go.
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