Hey guys! Here's another one for ya. Thanks for all those wonderful reviews and please, keep 'em coming. Enjoy...
It was very likely that the brother's would have remained locked together in their tight embrace for hours if it wasn't for the intrusion on the room. But the sporadic reactions of Dean's heart monitor and the noticeable activity in the room finally had the nursing staff moving to check on their handsome patient. Lily, one of Sam's favorite nurses, peeked her head in the door hesitantly, pausing with surprise when she viewed the sight in front of her.
Too late, Bobby lifted a finger to his lips in suggestion that the pretty, young nurse let the boys be. But her arrival in the room was loud enough that Dean startled. His grip loosened just enough that he didn't feel comfortable tightening it again and he finally let Sam go, although his hand still found the younger man's hand and continued to clench it tightly.
Dean blushed slightly, the ladies man in him recognizing the need to feel embarrassed that Lily had witnessed his breakdown. The skinny blond cautiously entered the room, already regretting the intrusion. She walked lightly, her long legs going on forever beneath her barely legal skirt, as she crossed the room to her patients. Where most nurses seemed to elect for the standard scrubs these days, she seemed to enjoy wearing the almost extinct nurses skirts and dresses that were so popular in the movies. That was why she was one of Sam's favorites; not that he was attracted to her, but he knew she would give Dean something to do. And her genuinely kind and nurturing mannerisms certainly didn't hurt either.
"I'm so glad you're awake," she said, smiling gently. She finally made it to Dean's bedside, talking softly to him as she noted his vitals and quickly checked the leg before pulling the covers back up to Dean's waist. "We've been worried about you. And I think this brother of yours was about to jump out of his skin with worry if you didn't wake up soon. How are you feeling?"
Dean shrugged, refusing to make eye contact with the pretty nurse. He didn't want to flirt; didn't want to put himself out there. He felt incomplete, as though no woman would ever look at him the same way, and the last thing he needed was to be pitied. So he refused to look at the woman at all, unwilling to even give her the chance. It was unfortunate, really, because he truly would have enjoyed taking the blond for a spin. It would have been nice to have something, someone, to occupy his time while he recovered. But that was then, and he was a new man now.
Lily turned her attentions on Sam, hands resting sternly on her hips as she glared at him with mock authority. "How long have you been out of bed?" She demanded.
Sam looked sheepish. "Dean woke up," he replied, ducking the question and offering an explanation that, he hoped, would grant him some reprieve.
Softening a little, Lily nodded but still held firm. "I know you want to talk, Sam, but you're still recovering from some pretty severe injuries yourself. You need to get back into bed."
With Dean fast asleep, Sam had been OK listening to the orders. There hadn't been much to say to the man while he was unconscious, and just knowing he was in the same room gave Sam respite. But now that Dean was awake, and completely distraught, there was no way Sam was willing to leave his brother's side.
He shook his head stubbornly. "I feel fine."
"Sam, there are no exceptions," she prompted. "You made a deal with the doctors."
"I know. But things have changed," Sam insisted, inching closer to Dean. His eyes bored into the young nurse as he tried to get his point across. My brother can't handle this without me. Don't make me say it out loud.
Thankfully, Lily got the point and she screwed up her face in concentration as she debated over how to handle the situation. "OK," she finally agreed, sighing loudly to express her exasperation. "You can stay up for a little while longer. I need to get some supplies to clean and change Dean's bandages and he's due for another dose of pain meds. But you have to promise me that as soon as your brother is asleep, you will get back into bed. And it's two hours of rest this time; got it?"
Sam nodded, smiling gratefully at the nurse, and seeing straight through her faux rough exterior to the gigantic heart that lay beneath the surface. "Deal."
Throughout the whole exchange between nurse and brother Dean had remained silent, leaning just enough into Sam's shoulder to be touching him, as his eyes fixed steadily on some invisible spot on the wall. He didn't react at all to the conversation going on around him, despite the fact that it was clearly about him. He barely acknowledged Bobby when, seconds after Lily disappeared out the door, the older man announced that he would leave the two of them alone while he went to get some coffee. And the fact that he hadn't even looked in the direction of the sexiest nurse on the floor, let alone tried to pick her up, had Sam worried.
"You doing alright there?" the younger brother asked gently as soon as the two were alone.
Dean shook his head in a slow, lethargic motion, but didn't say a word. His eyes removed themselves from the wall and traveled back to his legs again, focusing on the empty space where his left leg should have been. A lone tear released itself from eyes already puffy with moisture.
"You have to talk to me, Dean," Sam pleaded, turning to his brother and lifting the man's chin so that he was forced to look at him. "I want to help you, Dean, but you have to talk to me."
More moisture pooled in Dean's green orbs, making them sparkle unnaturally over the drab flatness they had become. "There's nothing to say..." he finally announced softly, whispered. "Unless you can give me my leg back."
Sam shook his head, sorrier about that fact than Dean would ever know. "I wish I could."
"But you can't. And there's nothing you can do to help me then."
Of course there is, Sam wanted to scream. I can do so much to help you if you would let me, you stubborn S-O-B. I can listen. I can hold your hand. I can hug you, and cry with you...and someday, when you're finally ready, I can help you learn to walk again. Let me in, Dean! Dammit! Let me be there to catch you when you fall; to pick you up and set you on the right path. Let me be proud of you when you finally do take that first step. Shit, Dean, just let me be your brother!
But Sam said none of that, because it would simply fall on deaf ears. He just hoped his presence would be enough for the time being.
Lily returned, pushing a cart full of medical equipment in front of her this time. She smiled hesitantly at the two boys, knowing that neither one had yet seen what she was about to reveal, and wondering what their reactions would be. She'd seen it all in her five short years as a nurse; she'd watched patients with detached emotions as they stared helplessly, unflinchingly, at the battle scars of their injuries. She'd worked nervously through the cleaning's of patients flailing so violently that she feared they would hurt themselves worse. She had watched tough, seemingly unshakeable men break down in tears at the sight of their injuries. In her line of work, with the injuries she cared for and saw on a daily basis, Lily had witnessed every form of breakdown and reaction imaginable. She was prepared for it all, and the silent tears that fell down Dean's face didn't faze her one bit. Her only wish was that somehow, her gentle ministrations might help the young man who seemed so determined to shut her out.
"I'll try to be gentle," she soothed, once again pulling the blanket to the bottom of the bed. "I can't promise it won't hurt, but I'll do my best to make this easy for you."
Dean didn't move; didn't blink. From the corner of one eye she saw the brother slowly inch his hand down to the bed so that it covered Dean's shaking one as he looked Lily in the eye. "Dean's tough," Sam announced firmly, squeezing his brother's hand in the process. "He'll be fine."
Lily smiled at Sam's reassurances, in spite of the fact that Dean hadn't voiced them himself. She couldn't help but wonder if the reassurance had been more for her sake or more for her trembling patient. Either way, she hoped the young man had taken his brother's loving words to heart. He needed to hear them; needed to believe them.
There was something about these two boys that pulled at Lily's heartstrings more than any other patients she'd ever cared for. They were different; special. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew without doubt that they required extra special care. And as Lily reached for the bandage wrapped around Dean's leg, she made a vow to do whatever it would take to give them that care.
Sam was terrified of what was to come next; terrified of how he might react when the bandage was removed. So he took his cue from Dean, deciding to look only after his brother did. Except that Dean didn't look, at least not from Sam's vantage point. The older hunter kept his head bowed low, staring into his lap and at the one hand that remained free from Sam's grasp. His eyes were barely open to slits, and whether it was to keep the sight of his ruined leg from getting in or to keep a fresh batch of tears from getting out Sam wasn't sure. Either way, Dean wasn't about to help Sam with his reaction to the leg. He would just have to look for himself.
Sam used what little energy he had left to force himself not to react visibly to the sight of the remaining stump that was once Dean's lower leg, the reality of the situation finally slamming full force into his mind. The last card in their teetering house of cards had finally been pulled out from under him and he had no more glue to put it back together. What surprised Sam was the fact that, as far as battle wounds went, this one seemed pretty innocuous. The incision was surgically perfect, although Sam found himself critiquing the series of stitches holding the red, puckered skin together. If it wasn't for the blatantly missing sixteen inches worth of flesh and bone Sam would probably have told Dean to suck it up and move on with life. But the leg was missing, and Dean couldn't just "suck it up" because this was worse than any injury either one of them had ever experienced. There was no coming back from this; no asking for just a little more time to let it heal. The leg would never grow back, and no matter how much rehab Dean went through, no matter how good he became at hiding a limp with a prosthetic leg, Dean would never ever be the same as he once was. He would always be missing a part of himself. And if Dean was missing something, then Sam was missing something too.
Sam already felt as though he were walking a thin tightrope, teetering precariously as he tried desperately to find a new balance in life, and he found that if he thought much longer on it, he didn't doubt that he'd find himself in a fit of hysterics. And so, instead of laughing in front of Dean or, for that matter, crying, Sam did the only other thing he could think to do as his wold blurred around him. He got up and ran.
"Sammy!" Dean called as Sam teetered on unsteady legs out the door, bouncing painfully against the door frame as he went. He watched fearfully as he saw his confused brother walk out on him, seeing the boy's hand held shakily to his mouth as though he might throw up. "Sammy, please come back." The unspoken message: Sammy, please, I need you. Don't leave me.
xxxxxxxxxx
Coward! Sam was barely through the doorway when his conscience began mocking him, taunting him with vicious thoughts and shouting out slanderous names. You did this! It screamed over and over. You did this to him. You and your selfish idea to go hunting in the middle of the Canadian wild. You...who couldn't stop your search long enough to listen when Dean said he had a bad feeling. You...who didn't get him out of the woods soon enough and had the stupid Stupid STUPID idea to tie that damn belt around his leg and cut off all the blood flow. This is your fault, Sam. This is all on you!
He ran blindly down the hallway, ignoring the fiery pain shooting from every synapse of his chest and shoulder as he bounced off medical staff and visitors, not seeing the multitude of reactions they produced, ranging from concern to annoyance. Unsolicited tears filled his eyes, making him unable to see where he was headed even if his head had been clear enough to make those decisions. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, or maybe it was because suddenly he couldn't seem to drag in a full breath anymore and spots were beginning to dance a polka in front of his eyes, but he continued to run.
Finally, the elevator came into view and he searched blindly for the down button, pressing rapidly and continuously until finally he heard the familiar ding alerting him to an approaching car. Sam staggered into the car before the doors had fully opened, his one good arm supporting his quickly deteriorating body against the cool metal of the wall. And as he passed over the threshold, he felt himself grabbed firmly, someone generously supporting his fatigued body as it finally slumped to the floor in a heap. He heard a voice call his name, but the blood rushing to his head didn't allow him to clearly establish who it was, or what it was saying.
Several minutes passed before the ocean between Sam's ears began to quiet and the stars rushing rapidly in front of his eyes slowed to a tolerable speed and he finally recognized the voice eliciting soothing words from her pitched voice.
"Sam, honey, I need you to look at me," Missouri urged gently, brushing the back of her hand against the boy's warm forehead.
Blinking against the bright light, Sam finally focused on Missouri's face and he groaned. From the lurching feeling in his gut, Sam figured they were still riding the elevator and he didn't even glance around to find out how many nosy stares were being placed in his direction.
"There now, are you with me?" Missouri soothed, smiling now that Sam was focused on her. "You think you can sit up?"
He nodded uncertainly but allowed the motherly woman to gently help him sit, leaning heavily against the wall of the elevator when he was upright. From this perspective he could see there was only one other person in the car, a young woman in her mid-thirties who was taking great pains to appear as though she hadn't noticed the boy laying on the floor when, in fact, she was gawking openly. If Sam had had more energy he would have gawked right back, guilting the woman into turning away, but he just didn't have it in him at the moment.
"Boy, you pulled your stitches," Missouri admonished now that she had a better look at him. He looked down at his chest where Missouri's eyes lay and saw the pool of bright red blood staining the front of his hospital gown, making the material stick to his chest. It wasn't too bad, but he would need to have it re-sewn before it got worse.
"I ran into some stuff...and some people on my way here," he explained in a whisper. "How long was I..."
Missouri looked at Sam in sympathy, patting his hand. "Not long," she said. "Do you want to go somewhere and talk? Maybe to the cafeteria?"
After taking a second to think Sam nodded his head. "Yeah. That would be nice." He leaned forward, awkwardly pushing off from the floor with one arm and stumbling before Missouri leaned down and helped him to stand. She supported him as he reached out to press the button for their floor, and then guided him gently by the arm to a small table away from the majority of the cafeteria's occupants.
"Can I get you something to drink, honey? Some coffee or water?"
Again, Sam nodded, replying with a single word. "Coffee."
She disappeared, and returned minutes later carrying two steaming cups of coffee, a multitude of cream and sugar added to both. Handing one of the cups to Sam, Missouri navigated her ample frame into the opposite chair. She reached out with one hand and placed it on top of Sam's, its warmth and generosity beginning to reach his overwrought mind.
"Talk to me, Sam," Missouri pleaded, eyes softening, reassuring Sam that he could trust her. I left him, Missouri. I just ran out on him. My own brother. How could I do that? He hesitated, but finally did open his mouth, and spilled all.
xxxxxxxxxx
Sam had never really trusted anyone with his feelings; at least no one that wasn't Dean. His own father had remained in the dark on his most treasured and hidden secrets, only gaining access to the bare minimum of the thoughts that plagued the youngest Winchester. But Dean could no longer shoulder the burden that had fallen on Sam, and as much as he hated to admit it, Sam lacked the strength to bear his own burden. Missouri had been there. She'd been willing. And Sam was so weak. And by the time he was done pouring out his inner most thoughts and torments to the closest thing to a mother Sam had ever known he was reduced to a weeping pile of bone and tears, body convulsing as he wept into Missouri's shoulder.
He'd told her everything; how he'd forced Dean to pursue the hunt despite his protests, the fact that it was his idea to tie the belt around Dean's leg, he told her about promising Dean they were safe and then failing to protect them from whatever beast had attacked them, and then added that that made it his fault that Dean had felt the need to drag himself through the dirt to get to Sam. But mostly, he told Missouri how much he doubted himself now that it was up to him to provide complete moral support. "I choked, Missouri," he whimpered, face buried in his hand. "She unwrapped his leg and there it was, just staring me right in the face, and I just...choked. I couldn't handle it, Missouri. I did this to him, and I can't face him, and I just don't know what to do."
"First of all, you need to stop blaming yourself for what happened to your brother," the psychic voiced wisely. "And then, you need to accept the fact that you are only human. The way you reacted back there was a human reaction to a very real problem. I can't possibly imagine that you are the first person to turn and run from the sight of seeing someone you love in pain."
"But it's Dean," Sam protested.
Missouri smiled knowingly, but sadly. "And that's exactly why it's okay that you reacted the way you did...because it is Dean. He loves you. And that kind of unconditional love doesn't come around very often. He will forgive you for that; when he forgives himself for getting hurt in the first place."
Sam's head shot up, startled by Missouri's words, and he looked at her in horrified curiosity. "What do you mean by that?" Sam demanded, wondering whether it was her psychic intuition feeding her this line, or if she'd come up with that all on her own.
She shrugged. "You know your brother better than I do. You ran off, and somehow he's going to see that as being his fault. He's going to view your fear as something he created, he'll see your determination to get him better as something he's forcing you to have. All your lives Dean's taken every little annoying personality trait that made you you and found some way to blame himself."
Sam's head was cocked in curiosity, needing the woman to continue with her point, although he seemed to be starting to understand what she was saying. Recollections and realizations were popping in his head, and he began to link some of her points as she continued.
"When you left for college he blamed himself for pushing you too hard in your studies. When you and your father fought he believed it was because he'd encouraged you too much to have a mind of your own. But the thing is, he never saw that those were actually good things that he'd done for you. He never realized that the blame he was placing on himself should have actually been pride for creating the man you had become."
Lower lip clenched tightly between his teeth, Sam stared at Missouri, mentally calculating what she had just said, unsure whether or not it was worth it to add another rebuttal. He had to admit, she was good. The woman had just put to words a feeling that he'd been trying to comprehend for years. She made it seem simple; straight-forward. But it just wasn't that simple to accept, and he tried one more time to place the blame on himself. "Dean would never have reacted the same way if it had been me in his place," he argued.
Missouri shook her head, once again disallowing Sam's floundering in his own self pity. "You have no idea how Dean would have reacted if the situation were reversed. But I do know one thing, Sam. Your brother has made it his life goal to protect you, and no matter how much you are hurting right now, seeing your brother in so much pain, if this had happened to you I guarantee Dean would be dying inside. He would think he'd failed you; failed to protect you. He may or may not have physically run from you, but I'm certain he would have figured out some form of escape. It's terrible, what happened to Dean, but I think things would be one hundred times worse if it was you in that hospital bed."
There was no denying the accuracy of Missouri's statements, and Sam was all out of protests and arguments. "I just don't know what to do for him," he cried, head falling back into his open hand as he deflated. "I can't see him like this. I don't know how to help him."
A screeching sound met the air as Missouri pulled her chair around to be next to Sam, wrapping a firm arm around the boy's shaking body. "You help him by being there for him and letting him deal with this his own way. Sam, there's no schedule for these kinds of things. He's going to have some good days, but he's going to have a lot of bad days, and you need to be by his side every step of the way. No more running. If you need to get away you do it without causing a scene; don't make him think you're leaving because of him. Don't make him think you can't handle this. If he thinks you don't want to be there he's going to push you away, because he'll see that as protecting you. Just be conscious of his feelings, Sam. He needs that most of all."
Sam nodded. His hand came away from his head and suddenly he became very interested in the spoon on the table as he flipped it end over end, contemplating everything Missouri had just said. "You're right," he agreed. "I just don't know if I can do this on my own."
Missouri rubbed gentle circles on Sam's back. "You don't have to, Sam. You've got me. You've got Bobby. This is going to be alright, Sam. You have to trust me on that."
And Sam found that he did trust her. He believed her. If only he knew how much faith and trust he would need to have before things got better.