Feel the Pain Version B
Disclaimer: Check out the first chapter.
Author's Note: Please don't lynch me for not updating sooner. Read and be happy. And no lynching.
Chapter Six: Restrained
Darkness. He liked the darkness. It kept the pain away, especially because he did not want to deal with what was going on in reality right now. Slowly, the darkness gave way to grayish fog. A voice was pressing thru the fog, making it quickly fade, bringing the light back. No, please. Just let me have some time alone. I don't want to deal with… "
"Dean!"
With a start, Dean came back to consciousness. A doctor was in front of him, blocking his view of the room, which was pretty busy judging from the sounds of people talking, things scraping against the floor, squeaky wheels. Wow, that's weird.
"Dean? Can you hear me?" Dean nodded, squinting against the pen light the doctor –That's Sam's doctor. Doc Welling- was shining into his right eye. "Are you having any trouble breathing? Double vision?"
Dean shook his head, his senses finally catching up with him. The smell of smoke filled his nose. Now with his peripheral vision, he could see the room's walls were almost black right above an eerily vacant area. An area which was about the size of a bed.
"Doc, where's my brother?" Dean pushed against the cold floor, intending to stand up. With a gasp of pain, he let himself fall back down. He stared down at his hands, which seemed to have more blisters and oozing pus than skin. Sucking in his breath, he held back the scream that threatened to erupt. Through the tears which had sprung to his eyes at the unexpected wave of pain, he saw a nurse come forward with a tube of gel and bandages.
The doctor leaned forward and took gently took Dean's arms away from his body. "Dean, I need you to calm down, okay?" Dean nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth. "You're brother is down in the ICU. He's being treated for multiple burns on his arms, back, chest, and head." Dean's eyes grew so wide white was seen all the way around.
"Is he… can he… can he feel it?" Dean's voice wavered, his chin began to shake.
"No. We sedated him as soon as we could get our hands on him." Dean nodded and glanced down with a hiss of pain. The nurse smiled sympathetically as she wiped more burn ointment onto his hands.
"I wanna see him." A pregnant pause from the doctor made Dean look up. His face said it all. "I'm going to see him doc. Just patch me up and you know where I'll be."
Dr. Welling sighed and slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry Mr. Harris. But when the nurses came in, they found your brother's bed on fire, you were holding him down in the flames. We cannot allow you to see your brother."
With a half scream, half grunt Dean pushed himself up off the floor, making both doctor and nurse step backward to avoid his thrashing arms. "What the… who… I WAS NOT HOLDING MY BROTHER DOWN!"
Everyone in the busy room froze. A pin dropping would sound like a bomb. Dean looked around, catching each and everyone's eyes staring at him. He turned around to face the doctor. "I did not hurt my baby brother. I would never do that."
The doctor shrugged, his face obviously saddened. "I'm sorry. But we cannot allow you near your brother until it can be determined that you are not a threat to him. The police are conducting an investigation to determine if the fire was the result of a problem with the equipment or… something else. But I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do."
"No. You don't know what we've been through… I would… I wouldn't…There has to be something… some way to let me see him." Dean ran his hand through his hair, racking his brain. "What if… how can I prove I'm not going to hurt him? Please doc. I'll do anything."
Dr. Welling glanced at a woman standing in the doorway. She stared at Dean, studying him. She nodded and with a quick turn, left the room. Dr. Welling turned back to Dean. "It might be possible for one of our psychologists to have a few discussion sessions with you and then give a recommendation to the board. It's a long shot, but if you are willing, I can make it happen." Dean's body stiffened. He had never been a fan of psychologists, mostly because… stop it Dean, you said you would never go back there.
Oblivious to Dean's internal argument, the nurse moved forward, placing the final bandages onto his hands. The pain made Dean hiss, bringing him back. Suddenly, he was aware the doctor was waiting for an answer. Dean opened his mouth, but found he had nothing. He shut it again and simply nodded.
Dr. Welling have a single nod, making a note on his clipboard. "I will arrange for one of our psychologist to open their schedule for you." Scribbling on his clipboard, he handed Dean a piece of paper with a name and number. "But until you can make an appointment, I would suggest you go home and let your hands heal a little."
Dean gave a curt shake of his head, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "No way doc. I'm staying here until I can see Sam." Or until I can sneak past the nurses standing guard. No way I'm waiting until Doc Wanna-talk-about-your-childhood clears me to talk to my own brother.
"Mr. Harris, I don't think you understand." The doctor sighed, his lips tightening with frustration. "The investigation could take up to and beyond a month. I'm sorry, but I must ask you to leave the hospital." Dean's sputter of anger was quickly cut off. "According to hospital policy, when a restraining order has been issued, we do not allow the restrained to remain within the hospital, for the safety of everyone. And I also believe you are under a lot of stress at the moment and you need your rest"
Dean looked away, quickly shaking his head to rid his eyes of the sudden burning. Why are they doing this? Can't they understand?
As if an invisible summon had gone out, two police officers walked forward. They paused behind Dr. Welling. "These officers are going to escort you off the premise. If it means anything, I'm sorry."
Dean finally looked up at the doctor, barely taking in the sympathy in the man's eyes. "Screw you." With that, he pushed past the man and marched out the door, silently flanked by the city's finest.
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The doctor stood by the door, sighing heavily as Dean walked away from the room. The boy was upset, that much was obvious. No, not upset. Pissed off enough to give Freddy Krueger a run for his money. The doctor checked his watch and rubbed his eyes.
"I'm getting too old for days like this."
Deciding he could spare the time, the doctor caught the elevator to the third floor. Walking under the Burn Unit sign, he smiled at the nurse at the desk while checking the patient's chart for his location. The doctor walked to the washroom and quickly sterilized himself. Slipping through the automatic opening doors, he nodded to the nurse who was currently standing over the young patient. What's her name again? Dr. Welling gave an internal shrug. Don't spend enough time in the burn unit I guess. The young nurse smiled in return.
"How's he doing?"
"Pretty good considering. Hopefully, the Silvadene will work it's magic." The calm woman shook her head sadly as she laid another bandage across a charred shoulder. "Did this really happen here in the hospital?"
"Yup. He had just gotten out of surgery for a chest trauma."
The nurse paused, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Are the rumors true?" She leaned in gently. "Did his own brother start the fire? And hold him down in the flames?"
"It would appear so. There is almost nothing in that room that would cause such a localized fire that quickly. And no one else was with them." The doctor shrugged, hearing the doubt in his own voice. "But personally, the brother seemed too upset to have done it. Either that or he's a great actor."
Without warning, a burnt hand twitched, practically jumping off the table. Both doctor and nurse gasped at the sudden movement.
"He is sedated, right?" Dr. Welling grabbed the chart as the nurse checked the iv bag.
"Of course he is. Ketamine. " The nurse shrugged, finding nothing wrong with the bag. "It was probably a nerve twitch. His body has been through a lot today."
The doctor nodded. And he's not out of the woods yet.
"I'll let you finish up with him. Keep me updated on his condition. And watch his breathing. They had to replace his chest tube because the first one melted. The last thing this kid needs right now is to develop a pleural effusion." With a nod, he walked out the door, leaving Nurse Kate in the room.
She smiled sadly down at Sam, feeling the urge to run her fingers through his hair, which was now unmistakably missing, replaced with blistered skin, tight against his skull.
"Oh Sam. Look what your mean brother has done to you."
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BAM! The hotel door slammed open, quickly followed by another BAM! of being shut. Dean's boots clomped across the room. He could practically feel the steam coming out his ears. Maybe if this was a cartoon. Of course, then I would have just dropped a fucking anvil on that doctor's head. Dean's mouth didn't even twitch at the imagery. Fucking doctors. What do they know? Nothing, that's what. Try to explain what happened through an investigation. They're just gonna get a lot of 'huh, that's weird'. They wouldn't know something supernatural if it jumped out and dry-humped their leg.
Dean stopped his pacing, his anger boiling dangerously high. He flexed his arms, bending his elbows in and out. He knew this feeling; this was his Bruce Banner feeling, the need to just… CRACK!
That helped. Dean grimaced dryly, staring at the new hole in the wall. Disgusted, he shook the blood from his knuckles. He knew he would feel that hit later once the pain medication for the burns wore off. And now, he had torn the bandages.
Huffing, he turned around, looking for the first-aid kit. With a start, his eyes froze on the bed. A large dark spot stared back out at him. The blood had long been dried, but Dean swore he could still see it shimmering, smell it as it poured from Sam's chest.
Sighing heavily, he dropped to the floor, pressing his back against the bed. His chest began to go tight. No, don't you dare cry Dean Winchester. Hastily wiping his eyes, he stared into the putrid green wallpaper. I'm sorry Sammy. I'm so sorry.
Dean could practically hear his brother's reply.
Dean, it's not your fault. You couldn't do anything.
Yes, I could Sammy. I could have pulled you from that fire. I could have put some protection charms around the hotel so that invisible son-of-a-bitch couldn't stab you through the chest. I could have tried harder.
Dude, let it go. You got me to the hospital. I'm going to be fine.
Sam, how can you say that? You… I saw your face. I… I saw your skin. You were on fire.
It's just skin. Just another scar.
No Sam, it's not just another scar. I should have been able to help you. Now I can't even get into the fucking hospital to see you.
Yes, you can Dean. I know you can do it.
But… but last time… Dad…
Dad's not here and you aren't ten anymore. It's going to be okay Dean.
Dean gave a short laugh. Even when I imagine Sam, he's always saying it'll be okay. With a shuddering breath, Dean reached into his back pocket and withdrew his cell phone. Grasping the white paper, he punched in a number and held it to his ear with a shaking hand.
"Yes, this is Dean… uhhh… Harris. I'd like to make an appointment with Dr. Monroe."
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Ooooo, angsty. Will Sam heal? Why is Dean so afraid of psychologist? What will the police find? Only I know!!! Ahem, sorry. So that's the next bit. I thought I would give you an extra long chapter because it's been so long. Sorry for holding it out for so long, but once again life got it the way. Darn life, just leave me alone to my nice Supernatural. Hope you liked it and let me know if you're still around and reading by hitting that review button. Thanks a bunch!