Fell on Black Days—Chapter Four

"So, this doctor guy of yours," Dean said, "is he any good?"

Garth shrugged. "Well, technically he gave up the doctoring life for hunting years ago, but he's still good. Bobby used to use him when his regular guy was out."

Dean wasn't all that reassured, but this guy would have to do. "What time did he say he would be here again?"

Garth checked his watch. "Should be anytime now."

An hour later, the doctor still hadn't showed. Dean was pacing the living room, growing more and more impatient as the seconds ticked by. Sam was sleeping again on the couch. Dean looked over at him every once in awhile, unable to stop worrying about him.

Finally, there was the sound of an engine outside and a car door being shut. Dean stopped in his tracks and grabbed his gun, just in case it wasn't who they expected.

Garth ran to the window and peered out. "It's him."

"About time," Dean said, walking over to the door. He opened it up, and a burly looking man with an overgrown beard greeted him on the other side of it.

Dean's brow furrowed as he took in the state of the man in front of him. He looked like he belonged in Deliverance. There was no way Dean was letting this man near his brother.

Garth pushed past Dean and smiled at the man. The man nodded at him. "Garth, good to see you, boy."

"Doctor Barter," Garth said.

"How many times have I got to tell you? Call me Ken. I stopped going by doctor years ago."

"Well this reunion is great and all, but I think we're all set," Dean said. This guy wasn't coming within another foot of his brother.

"You might think so," Ken said. "But from what I hear, your bother is missing a kidney, and you didn't let the boy stay in the hospital near long enough. Did you even give the docs a chance to explain what living without a kidney would mean, the risks that go with it?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Well, no."

"Then it's simple. You need someone to check over your brother, and I'm here, so you might as well let me in."

The doctor didn't wait for invitation. He pushed his way past Dean and into the cabin, a beaten, old canvas duffel on his shoulder.

"Make yourself at home why don't you," Dean snapped at the doctor, who was already making his way over to Sam.

Dean walked over and stood beside the couch, arms crossed over his chest.

"How long he's been sleeping?" Ken asked.

"A few hours. It's his new favorite pastime. He's been asleep more than he's been awake."

"Understandable given the situation. Has he been getting up and moving around?"

Dean shrugged. "As much as he can I guess."

"Well, he needs to stay active. Otherwise he risks blood clots, and that's nothing to be messed with."

Sam began to stir, and a moment later, he was blinking wearily as he looked around the room. His gaze fell on an unfamiliar face and he jumped, pulling the stitches on his side.

"Easy, Sam," Dean said as he came around into Sam's line of sight. "He's here to help. Believe it or not, he's apparently a doctor."

Sam pushed himself up. "You called a doctor? When? Why?"

"That's what me and Garth needed to talk about yesterday."

"Yeah, but why? I mean, granted I was shot, but I'm doing pretty well I think."

"You call sleeping 24/7 doing well? Moaning in pain every time you move wrong? The fact I haven't seen you eat or drink anything other than enough to feed a toddler."

"You're worrying over nothing, Dean."

The doctor cleared his throat. "Well, actually, Sam, you're not fine. There's a lot I think we need to check, and if you're not taking in fluids you could be damaging yourself further."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, guys. Really."

"If that's the case then you won't mind me checking you over," the doctor said as he reached for his duffel.

Sam glared at Dean who shrugged. "It won't take long, right, doc?"

Ken grunted as he unceremoniously dumped the contents of his duffel on the floor.

"Okay, kiddo, let's get this show on the road," he said as he snapped on a pair of gloves.

xXx

"Well it's a good thing you called me," Ken said as he walked into the kitchen where Dean and Garth were waiting. "He has an infection."

"Shit," Dean cursed. "How bad is it?"

"Well, lucky for you, I brought a bit of everything with me. I've started an IV and given him some antibiotics. It should clear this up. But the real question is, have you thought about the future?"

"What do you mean?"

"Hunting, or should I say, not."

"I don't get where you're going with this, doc. I thought Sam was going to be all right."

"He is, but with only one kidney, he's at a greater risk. If he takes a blow on a hunt and messes that puppy up, he's done for."

Dean put a hand up, his brow wrinkling in confusion. "So, you mean to tell me that hunting is out? Have you told Sam this?"

"No, not yet. He's already got enough on his plate right now. I don't want stress the kid out anymore then we have to just yet."

Garth shook his head. "I don't like this. I don't think we should keep this away from Sam. He needs to know."

"The doc's right," Dean said, glancing over at Garth. "He doesn't need to know yet."

Sam lay in bed, fresh bandages covering his side and an IV in his arm. This wasn't how he'd planned on spending the day, getting poked and prodded.

He felt more useless now than he did before. He stared off at the ceiling and thought back to the things Dean had said to him, how true they were.

He had done so much wrong, and there was no way he could easily make amends. The demon blood, siding with Ruby, killing Lilith, and his newest failure, Amelia. Dean was right. He had chosen a girl over him. He should have looked. He should have tried. But he hadn't. He just walked away while his brother suffered, and now he had to find a way to live with knowing what he'd done.

Tears pricked at his eyes and he drew a shaky breath. Part of him just wanted it all to be over. If only he could get back to the hunt.

There was a soft rap on the door and Sam looked up.

Dean was standing there, face tight. Sam knew that he was probably just as annoyed by this setback as he was. Dean was never the nursemaid type, and having Sam laid up and useless had to be hard on him. Sam swore to himself that he would try to do everything he could to make it as easy as possible on Dean, even if it meant hiding his pain.

"How you doing?" Dean asked, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Sam pushed up in the bed. "I'm feeling pretty good. Seems the doc, Ken I mean, knows what he's doing."

"Yeah, I told Garth he looked like he crawled out of Middle Earth. Just hand him an axe and call him Gimli."

Sam smiled and shook his head.

Dean pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the bed. "So, I wanted to talk to you."

Sam's brows pinched together. He didn't think there was much to talk about. Everything was pretty clear. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Just, I haven't really had a chance to say I was sorry, for you know, everything that happened."

"There's nothing be sorry for. You only said the truth. Can't blame you for that."

"Sam—"

Sam put up a hand. "Don't try and say it wasn't, because we both know it was. I did all those things. I brought it on."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "You know, you're more like Dad than you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That sometimes you can be too damned stubborn and thickheaded for your own good!"

Sam looked away, trying to hold his emotions in. He could feel himself breaking at the seams.

Dean berated himself for letting his frustration get the better of him. He hadn't meant to snap at Sam. In fact, he had meant to come in and make amends. The guilt he felt for shooting Sam was practically a physical entity weighing him down.

"Sammy," Dean said, stepping forward. He tried to place a hand on Sam's arm, a simple gesture of comfort, but Sam didn't let him. He pulled his arm away like it had been burned.

"I'll let you get some rest," Dean said as he stepped back.

Sam nodded but kept his gaze on the blanket.

When Dean came back to the kitchen, he found Garth and Ken in deep conversation. Garth had a notebook and pen and was taking notes. Ken was explaining to him what Sam would need.

Dean walked past them and out the door. Once outside he began to walk. He stumbled on an old woodshed and walked over to it. He pushed the old door and it fell to the ground with a thud. He stepped inside and looked around. He needed to take out his frustration in the only way he knew how, through destruction.

His gaze fell on an axe that was hanging on the wall. He stepped around the old cardboard boxes and reached for it.

He felt the weight in his hands and nodded. It would do. Without another thought, Dean pulled the axe up past his shoulder and swung it. Hit by hit he destroyed the contents of the shed. Only stopping when his arms ached too much to pick it up again.

Exhausted, Dean dropped the axe and fell to his knees. He hung his head and a tear rolled down his cheek.

xXx

A week passed and Sam was doing better. The infection was clearing and the incision was nearly healed. The doctor left and headed back to whatever hole he'd crawled out of, which Dean was thankful for. The guy had been good, but Dean didn't like more people than necessary hanging around. He already had Garth to contend with.

Dean sat at the table, tapping away at the laptop, when he heard the soft padding of footsteps. Dean looked over his shoulder as Sam walked into the room. "Hey. How was the shower?"

"Good," Sam said, walking over and taking a seat in the chair beside Dean. "What you looking up?"

"Nothing much," Dean said closing the laptop. He didn't want to tell Sam that he was researching kidney loss. It would only worry him. "So, how you feeling?"

Sam raked a hand through his hair. "Good," he said. "Really good in fact. I was thinking we could start looking into finding a case."

Dean's heart jumped into his throat. "Hunting? Already? You were shot, Sam. That isn't something you just get over."

"I know, Dean. But I'm feeling good. At least we could take a look, see what we can find."

Dean shook his head. "No, no hunting. You're still healing, and you can't risk getting hurt."

"We've gone back to the job with worse before. What's the big deal?"

"Sam, I said no and I meant it. We're not hunting, so just chill!"

Sam understood. Dean didn't trust him on the hunt, and Sam couldn't blame him.

"Yeah, okay," Sam said. "No hunting." He drew a shaky breath and pushed himself up from the table. "I'm going to go out for some air."

"Sam, listen—"

"It's okay, Dean. I get it."

Sam walked over to the couch and slipped on his shoes. Grabbing his coat, he headed out the door.

Dean watched the door close behind his brother. He raked a hand over his face. Everything he said to his brother seemed to come out wrong.

"Hey, Dean," Garth's voice came from behind him. "Where's Sam?"

Dean lifted his head, nodding toward the door. "He went for a walk. I screwed up again."

Garth took a seat beside him. "What happened?"

"He wanted to hunt. I snapped at him, told him no."

"You told him about the kidney thing?"

"Well, no. I didn't get that far. I got scared when he said he wanted to hunt. I kinda of shut him down before he could say anymore."

"You know, Dean, you're going to have to tell him about hunting. Keeping secrets is only going to make things worse. When he finds out you've been keeping it from him, he's going to flip."

"Yeah, I know, man," Dean rubbed his brow. "I hate lying to him too, but I just don't know how to tell him." But there was more to it than that. Dean was afraid that Sam would leave him for good if hunting was out. There would be nothing left to keep them together. Dean didn't know how to function without his brother by his side.

Sam walked down the side of the road, not really caring where he was going. He just wanted to get away. Everything he did seemed to be wrong in Dean's eyes. He wished he knew what to do to make things better between them.

His side pulled as he walked. The incision was nearly healed, but it still ached deep in his side. He rubbed his hand across his side. He would need to stop to rest soon.

The distinct sound of the Impala's engine could be heard in the distance. It made Sam's brow furrow in confusion. He didn't know where Dean could be going.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Sam. He hadn't gotten far, not that he had expected him to have on foot. But he knew by his brother's posture that his side was hurting him. It made Dean feel even guiltier. He had been the one to chase Sam off and now he was in pain because of him.

Dean pulled the car over beside him and leaned over to roll down the window. "Get in."

"Are you all right?" Sam asked, not really sure what was going on with Dean. It wasn't like Dean to come after him.

"Just get in. We need to talk."

Sam looked at him skeptically, but nodded and got in anyway. "What's up?"

Dean rubbed his palms nervously over his jeans. "I don't know a good way to put this, so I'm just going to spit it out." Dean looked over at Sam. He knew what was to come would hurt his brother, but it had to be said. Garth was right; secrets would only cause more problems. "I've been keeping something from you. I talked to the doc. He had some bad news."

"About?"

Dean looked at him sympathetically. "He doesn't think it's safe for you to be hunting with only one kidney, and I agree."

The news hit Sam like a physical force. It knocked him back in the seat. No matter how he tried to make sense of the words, he couldn't. If by a miracle he wasn't a burden to Dean already, he would be now.

He tried to think of something to say but he was at a loss.

"Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam stared straight ahead. "Yeah, umm, all right." He looked over at Dean, keeping his expression neutral.

"All right?" Dean repeated like the words were foreign in his mouth. He had expected a lot of responses, but all right wasn't one of them.

"Yeah, it's fine, really. I just … Can we go back? The walk kind of wore me out." Sam was tired, but that wasn't the reason he wanted to get back. He needed to get away from Dean, from the car, from it all.

Dean studied him closely. "Sam, do we need to talk about this?"

"No, it's fine. I just need some time, all right?"

"Okay," Dean said. He was relieved that Sam had taken the news so well. He shifted the car into drive and spun around back towards the house.

Sam got out of the car without a word and made his way inside. Garth greeted him at the door, but Sam hurried past him, not ready to face his overly cheerful friend.

"Sam?" Garth called behind him. Garth could see the pain etched clear as day on Sam's features. It worried him. He wondered what had transpired between Dean and Sam.

Sam made his way to the bedroom. He shut the door and leaned against it. Everything was so wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to get better and then get back to the life, make amends for what he'd done. He wasn't supposed to be sick, be broken. How was he going to make things up to Dean now?

Tears began to prick at his eyes, and he wiped them away.

There was a knock at the door and Dean's voice on the other side of it. "You okay in there, Sammy?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm just going lie down for a while. My head hurts."

"You sure that's all?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Sam hated lying to Dean but there was no way he was going to be able to tell him what he was really feeling. He couldn't. Because the things he was thinking he knew would break his brother, even though Sam knew they were for the best.

He had to put an end to the pain his life was causing others, and there was only one way to do that for sure. He had to end himself.

It didn't come to him dramatically like some people might think it would. It came to him peacefully. It was like an invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He finally had a way to fix every mistake he'd made. All in one simple gesture.

He walked over to the bed and lay down. He smiled sadly as he closed his eyes, finally knowing what he needed to do. He had to set Dean free.