Fell on Black Days-Chapter Three
Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. The doctor was beginning to ask too many questions and so were the police. They wanted to file a report with the agency about the shooting, and that was something Dean knew would blow their cover.
It had only been a day since Sam had woken up, but he was able to get around. As much as he hated the idea of pulling Sam out of the hospital early, he knew it was time. They didn't have another choice. He only hoped they could keep Sam comfortable on the journey.
"Garth, you're gonna need to make a distraction," Dean said.
Garth frowned. "Why?"
"We need to get out of here. The police are coming back in an hour, and they expect us to file a report."
"Balls," Garth cursed.
"Yeah, my thoughts exactly."
"Do you think he's ready to travel?" Garth raised his brow. "Because I don't know, Dean."
Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "No, probably not, but what choice do we have?"
Garth nodded. "All right, let's do this. I'll get some supplies and load the Impala. I'll meet you back here in a few. You'll know when I'm ready."
"Sounds good. See you soon, buddy."
Sam pushed himself up in the bed and made his way over to the toilet. Never had he thought such a simple thing would be such an accomplishment.
When he was finished, he washed his hands and slowly made his way back towards the bed. Dean and Garth had left him for a few minutes and Sam was thankful. He needed a break from their constant hovering.
He thought back to the things Dean had said. No matter how much he wanted to blame the penny, he knew that Dean had been part of the things that he'd said. Sam knew he was a failure.
Sam took a seat on the edge of the bed and caught his breath. The simple walk had exhausted him.
The door creaked open, and Dean came in, shutting the door quickly behind him. He had that look, the one that meant something was up and it was no good.
"Dean?"
"I hate to do this to you, Sam, but we've got to hit the road."
Sam's brows pinched together. "Umm, I'm not sure you've noticed, but I was shot."
"Yeah, I know, but the police are starting to ask too many questions. We need to get out of here. So, throw a shirt on, we're leaving."
"Where's Garth?"
"Getting some supplies. He'll be back in a minute."
Suddenly the fire alarm went off, making both of the boys jump. "What the hell?" Sam said.
"I think that would be Garth. I told him to make a distraction."
Dean grabbed the robe from the chair and tossed it to Sam. "This will do."
Sam struggled to get his arms in the holes. Each pull of his side made him wince. He hadn't had a dose of pain medication in a few hours.
Dean saw how much Sam was struggling, and he walked over to the bedside to help. "Here let me," he said.
Gently, Dean worked Sam's arms into the sleeves and pulled it around him. He noticed how pale Sam still looked, and he wondered if they were doing the right thing after all.
"You okay?" Dean asked.
Sam didn't feel like he deserved Dean's sympathy. He didn't want him worrying about him. He deserved all he got.
"I'm fine," Sam said, despite the dizzy feeling that was overtaking him.
Dean studied him for a moment and then nodded. He could tell that there was something more going on with Sam, but he just didn't know what, and he was pretty sure it wasn't just physical.
The door opened, and Garth came charging in with a wheelchair. "Your chariot awaits."
Sam pushed himself up to his feet, and Dean stayed close to his side, keeping a hand on his back to steady him.
With Dean pushing the wheelchair, they made it to the car in record time.
"Easy, Sam," Dean said as he helped lower his brother into the backseat.
Sam was sweating now, and his heart was pounding. The pain was getting to be too much, and he was having trouble holding it together.
With his last vestiges of strength, he managed to pull himself across the bench seat and lay down on his back.
Garth appeared holding a blanket, and Dean took it, covering Sam up carefully.
Dean could see the pain etched on Sam's features, and he knew it was his fault the pain was there.
"Let's hit the road," Dean said.
Two hours later, they were nearly to the cabin. Sam wasn't faring well though. The pain was getting to the point that his vision was blurring. The constant jostling of the car was killing him.
He gritted his teeth and tried to bite back a moan, but it wasn't enough stop the pained sound from escaping.
The car slowed and then came to a halt. Tears began to prick at the corner of Sam's eyes, and a painful sob broke from him.
The car door opened and then Dean was there, hands gently touching and brushing the hair out from his eyes.
"Garth, pain meds now!" Dean snapped. "Easy, Sam. You're going to be all right. Garth is getting you the good stuff."
Sam tried to nod but the motion made his stomach churn. It was just all too much, too much sensation, too much pain. He felt so sick. If only the blackness would envelop him completely, he could get some rest.
Warm calloused hands cupped his face, and he tried to focus on the feeling. Sam heard the trunk close and then the hands were gone. A tear ran down Sam's cheek.
"Hurts," Sam whimpered.
"Hang on." Dean's hands shook as he tried to prepare the injection. Being careful not to put pressure on Sam, he climbed into the backseat and tugged Sam's pants down enough to expose his hip. He injected the drug quickly. "Try to breathe, Sam. It will get better in a second."
Sam's face was pale and sweaty, his brow tight. "How much longer till we're there?"
"Not much. An hour maybe."
Sam nodded. "'kay." The medication was beginning to work, and although the pain was still there, he didn't seem able to focus on it anymore. It was distant now. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Dean climbed out of the car and stood looking over Sam. He looked so broken. Dean hated seeing him in pain. He would give anything to take it away.
Dean and Garth got back into the car and began to head toward the cabin. Garth assured Dean that it would be all set up with what they needed. Apparently, a friend of one of Garth's contacts was a nurse, and she had set up the cabin with everything they would need.
"Should we let him sleep a bit longer?" Dean asked as he pulled the car to a stop at the remote cabin.
Garth rubbed the top of his head. "He's going to have one hell of a backache if we let him. He's all scrunched up back there."
"Yeah. I can remember when he was a kid and would actually fit back there, but that was a lifetime ago now."
Dean got out and made his way over to the door closest to Sam's head. He opened it slowly and then squatted down. He ran a hand through Sam's hair gently.
"Hey, Sasquatch, time to wake up."
Sam stirred a little and then groaned. Dean continued to gently run his fingers through his hair.
Sam drew a shaky breath. He moved to stretch but stopped when the pain in his side flared. "God that hurts."
"I bet. Now let's get you outta here and into the house. Garth says there's a nice comfy bed in there with your name on it."
Dean helped Sam out of the car and towards the cabin. The steps were a challenge, and Sam had to lean heavily on Dean as the made their way up them.
The cabin was nicer than Dean had imagined. It was even carpeted. There was a beautiful stone fireplace in the sitting area. The chairs and couches were a deep brown leather. It was like something out of a magazine.
Sam snuggled down into the soft bedding and closed his eyes. He awoke an hour later feeling physically better, but emotionally, he was still wrecked.
He couldn't get the things Dean had said out of his mind. Dean may have been a puppet, but the things he said came from inside him. He felt those things about Sam, and some part of him wanted Sam gone from his life. He was a hindrance, plain and simple.
There was a tap at the door and then Dean walked in. "Hey, I just made some food if you want to come join us? The nurses said it was important that you got on your feet."
"Easier said than done."
"Do you want some help?"
Sam contemplated Dean's offer, but then shook his head. He didn't want to bother Dean any more than he had to. "I've got it."
Moving slowly, Sam made his way out of the bedroom. Dean hovered like a mother hen as he did. Sam wished he would stop worrying.
Dean watched Sam make his way to the table. Every time Sam began to waver on his feet, Dean's heart would jump.
Sam was almost to the table when he paused and wrapped a hand across his stomach. Dean was quick to his side, hand gently coming to rest on his back.
"I think I might have overdone it," Sam said through pants.
Dean lifted Sam's arm and placed it over his shoulders. "Change of plan. Let's get you to the couch. It's closer."
Sam nodded and allowed Dean to guide him over. Carefully Dean lowered him down to the couch.
"Damn it, this hurts," Sam groaned.
Dean walked over and grabbed the footrest, dragging it closer. "Here, put your feet up."
Sam tried to lift his feet but it pulled on his stomach. He didn't want to ask Dean for help, but it seemed his brother knew. Dean swept his feet into his arms and lifted them up, placing them on the footrest.
"There, that's more like it," Dean said triumphantly. "Nice and cozy. You just need a blanket and you'll be set."
"Dean, you don't have to take—"
Dean put up his hand, stopping him. "Listen, there's nothing wrong with needing a little help. It's the least I can do, since, you know, I shot you."
Just at the reminder of it, Sam couldn't stop replaying those few moments in his mind. The look on Dean's face. Even when Sam was possessed by Lucifer, he had managed to overcome it to protect Dean, to save him. Anything could be overcome if you wanted to enough. And it was clear that Dean hadn't tried to fight it. He'd just gone along for the ride. Sam couldn't help but wish he had bled out on the floor. At least then he wouldn't have to watch Dean struggle to make amends for something that in all honesty Sam deserved.
Garth appeared carrying a tray of food and set it down on the coffee table.
He smiled brightly at Sam. "You ready for some grub?"
Garth reached down and grabbed the plate of food. Sam looked over it carefully. He wasn't sure who had prepared it but it didn't look like it would kill.
He took the food and began to nibble on it, but after a few bites, his stomach began to protest, and he stopped.
Dean gave him a concerned look. "You okay?"
"I'm just not that hungry."
"You need to eat something," Dean said.
"And I did." Sam motioned to the plate.
Dean shook his head and grabbed the plate from Sam. "We're trying again in a little bit. You're already skinny enough."
Sam rolled his eyes and yawned. "Whatever, Dean. It's not a big deal. I'm just not feeling well."
"You're sick?"
"No, I'm just feeling a bit sore."
"Garth, can you—"
"Already ahead of you, Dean. I've got the pills right here." Garth handed Sam two pills and a glass of water.
"Thanks," Sam said.
"No problem, buddy," Garth said with a crooked grin.
"If it's all right with you guys, I'm going to take a quick nap."
Dean patted Sam's foot. "Get some rest. Garth and I need to talk anyways."
Once Sam was soundly asleep, Dean took Garth aside.
"We really need to get a doctor up here to check him over. I don't like not knowing what's going on with him."
"It's only been a few days, Dean."
Dean raked a hand over his face. "Yeah, I know, but this isn't something we should be guessing at."
"Tell you what. I've got a contact or two that I can try to get on the line. Maybe one of them can make a trip up."
Dean nodded. "All right, sounds like a plan."
Dean returned to the living room and watched his sleeping brother, wishing there was a way he could take all the pain away.