Summary: What if Sam had a heart problem that didn't surface until now?
Disclaimer: I'll have them home by curfew!
Author's Note: Okay, so I actually really worked hard to get this chapter up as quickly as I could. It isn't too action packed because I wasn't sure if you wanted the normal kind of sam whumpage(i.e. he pushes himself too far, and ends up aggravating his injuries) or the supernatural kind of whumpage. For this chapter, I put in the normal kind, because I wasn't too sure how the supernatural would weave into the story. Despite that, I hope that this chapter is okay.
Reviews are love.
While We Can
"You ready, Sasquatch?" Dean patted Sam's knee and pocketed prescriptions for Sam's medication. Sam was more than eager to get out of this place. With the past two weeks having gone slow, the time had only come fast enough. Sam was on the edge of his bed, watching Dean pack up the things they had left in the hospital since Sam was checked in. He had been feeling a little better. Much to his dismay, it wasn't a normal injury where it affects mainly that area. His entire body had taken a beating, and there were times when he couldn't actually feel his limbs. The lack of full circulation was only common in these kinds of cases, but Sam wasn't too concerned. His chest was really bothering him. It had felt like his ribs had been stretched and broken-which, technically they had been-and then assembled in the wrong order. His breathing was okay for the most part, but he often had to stop and catch his breath.
Because of the long stay in the hospital, he had lost alot of weight, as well, and he was thin and gaunt, and paler than Dean had ever seen him. Well, it came close to the time Sam had actually died, but Dean tried to keep that memory tucked away.
"Do you even have to ask me that, Dean?" Sam grinned. He really was anxious to leave. It wasn't that he didn't like the place, but he had far more important things to take care of than himself. His brother was dying in 7 months, and being cooped up in the hospital certainly wasn't letting Sam get any research done.
"Yeah, yeah." Dean rubbed a hand over his face and slung the duffel bag over his shoulder. He kept his body close to his little brother's as he stood, walking slowly towards the entrance of his hospital room. Dr. Sedwick was on his way in, and Sam had nearly suffered a collision with him. Thankfully, Dr. Sedwick caught himself before it could happen.
"Sam. I was just coming to see you." He smiled, folding his arms. "Are you sure you're up to leaving?" He asked, taking in Sam's appearance. He looked tired, young, fragile, and needy. His eyes turned to Dean, who had his eyes on his brother like he was the most delicate thing in the world. And Sam was just that, to Dean.
"Yeah, I feel fine." Sam assured him, smiling as much as he could. Truth was, he was feeling much better, but still felt weak on his feet. The sharp throbbing in his chest caused him to wince occasionally, but he was better at hiding it. No point in worrying Dean.
"Good." The doctor patted Sam on the shoulder kindly as they made their way out of the door. "Hopefully we won't see you around here anymore until it's check up time." He smirked.
Sam chuckled lightly. "Yeah."
Dean made a detour as Sam continued talking with Dr. Sedwick. There's no way he's leaving without saying goodbye to Carter. He found him standing in his brother Jack's room, next to his mother. She turned when she heard him entering the room, and the joyous look that Carter gets on his face gives it all away.
"Oh, you must be Dean." She cocked her head and smiled. "I've heard a lot about you." She pulled Carter in to her side and gave him a little hug.
"Yeah, nice to meet you." He smiled at the young mother-who was very attractive-and turned his attention back to Carter. "I was just leaving, kiddo."
Carter had known about Dean leaving. They had talked over the past two weeks about the recovery of each of their brothers and Carter knew that Sam was ready to go home again. Jack was recovering quickly and he was expected to be out of the hospital in a month.
Carter smiled and let Dean pull him into a hug. "I'm glad your brother's okay, Dean." He sounds so innocent and pure, it practically chills Dean.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm glad he is too." He grinned. "And Jack." And he is happy, because Carter shouldn't have had to deal with that heartache.
Dean turned to walk out, because he isn't good with goodbyes, even if it is a little eleven year old boy that he's known for about a month, but changed his mind.
"Hey, Carter." He called behind his shoulder. "I'm gonna miss you, kid. Take care of yourself."
Carter reflected on their bond. There is a part on some level where they are almost identical, in heart, in mind. It cannot be overlooked by either one of them. "Yeah...you too, Dean."
...Supernatural...
As they got outside, Dean considered asking Sam if he wanted a wheelchair. Surely it wasn't going to be easy to move about for the next few days for Sam, and he wasn't too keen on starting the physical therapy right away. But, Sam seemed to be okay, so he didn't ask.
Sam was in the car before Dean knew it and he was happy to see it. His little brother really seemed to be healing nicely. They drove back to the motel with a bit of brotherly banter here and there, and normalcy picked up pretty quickly shortly thereafter.
"How you holding up, Princess?" Dean asked, as he glanced over to his brother. He didn't seem as healthy as he had before, but still better than Dean had expected.
"Super." Sam forced a grin. He wasn't looking forward to the physical therapy with Dean, and knew it was going to be a long, rough road to recovery. Still, it was better than being in the hospital.
"Not lying to me, are you?" Dean smirked, as he parked the car in the motel parking lot. Sam shook his head no, said something about being 'peachy' and started opening the passenger door. Dean made his way to his brother's side, and grabbed his elbow to steady him, as he aided him to the motel. "Dean, I'm okay. Really." Sam said. He shot his brother a you don't need to worry so much look, but didn't shrug Dean off of his arm. It steadied him, helped him find his center.
Dean walked his brother to the bedroom of the motel and sat him down on the bed. "Rest." He commanded. Sam gaped at him. "Dude, are you serious? I've been laying down for weeks!"
Dean shot him a look. "I don't care. You need rest."
Sam shook his head. "Dean, really, I feel fine."
Dean bit down on his lip. He supposed that he was expecting Sam to be unwell, to be in pain, to need him. But if that was what Sam needed, he was good at hiding it.
"Good. Up for some physical therapy?" Dean smirked, knowing all to well that Sam would turn him down and only then decide he should be resting. But, Sam complied, which startled Dean somewhat.
"What?!" Dean spat out, as he scratched at the back of his head.
"Faster I get better, faster we can get a move on." Sam stated. He knew Dean would say something about Sam being too obsessed with the deal, too eager to move, and too careless to take care of himself first, so he tried to stop it. "And I really feel fine, surprisingly." He added.
Dean hesitated, paused to watch his brother's movements. He didn't seem sluggish at all so Dean pulled his jacket off. "You sure you want to do this so soon? You've been home for like, 5 minutes, man?"
Sam nodded briskly. "Yeah, come on." He motioned for Dean to start the physical therapy.
Sam wasn't ready for it, his mind knew it just as well as his body did. But he needed to save his brother, and he'd overwork himself for a lifetime to save him.
...Supernatural...
"Push, Sam, I know you can!" Dean growled, his voice husky from yelling so much. They'd been going at it for a good hour and Sam had persisted more than he ever had for a first-time therapy session. They were working on Sam's arms and legs first, because the loss of full circulation had made it hard for him to walk at first. Sam was pressing the balls of his feet against Dean's ready hands, forcing the muscles in his legs to work harder. He couldn't take it. He channeled all of his anger and still he couldn't push as hard as he wanted to.
It only documented failure. A failure that had made Sam even angrier. His arms were sore from pushing against Dean, and the muscles in his heart were constricting and tightening so horribly that he thought he might pass out at any minute. Sam wanted to keep going, needed to keep going, but Dean had ended it.
"We're done here, Sam." He patted his calf and helped him up. "Hit the shower."
"Dean, we could've kept going." Sam pointed out.
Dean watched the way Sam was walking, how he hunched slightly, the way his arms hung limp at his sides-it bothered him. "Nah, I'm tired. You wiped me out." He smirked.
Sam shook his head and sighed. Without further demand from his brother, he locked the bathroom door and got undressed, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor.
He rolled the tension from his shoulders and neck and let the water beat down on his sore muscles. He couldn't handle much more of this. His body knew that he shouldn't have started the physcial therapy today. There was no way the he deal with it. He had to get stronger, though, and being strong doesn't just happen instantly. You have to work at it, and Sam was going to do just that until he was at the top of his game again.
He ran his hand over the white, raised flesh over his chest. It was an ugly scar, not as ugly as the one on his lower back, but it came close. He had started to really hate his body recently. He didn't get the kind of scars that Dean did. Not the kind of scars that you can brag about. His were the kind that were thick, raw, tender, and gross. They made him feel like some sort of freak.
At least Dean could pass for normal. Him? He stood out like a motorcycle in a candy store.
He'd get better, though. He'd push himself until the far end of the earth until he was fit. And tomorrow, it was back to research.
Sam had his lifetime to die.
Dean had less than a year.
That wasn't sitting too well with Sam.
...To Be Continued...