Sam found himself once again lounging in the doorway to the room where Dean slept. It was now going on eight a.m. Suzie had left for the store after cleaning up the breakfast dishes. Dean had yet to stir and though Sam was anxious to have him wake up and answer some questions, he wasn't going to force Dean awake. He'd hoped Dean would sense him and wake up on his own but no such luck.
He needed to pay serious attention to Dean's mangled wrists and make sure he had no serious injury anywhere else by checking him over thoroughly whether Dean wanted it done or not. Also, he was beginning to think Dean's sleep wasn't completely natural, not all head injuries were easily identifiable by a goose egg size lump. He hadn't thought to look for an injury to his head while wrestling him into submission earlier. Maybe he had smacked it against the cage or window in the car accident.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes as he pushed away from the door and walked back to crash on the sofa. He was slow from lack of sleep and constant tension, but not rendered stupid. He needed several hours of sleep and some time to sort out all he had learned and put it together. Something was going on and it was beyond his current ability to grasp. His last thoughts as he pulled the pillow over his head to block out the daylight were: Who was Suzie? Why had Dean come to this town? Who broke him out of the Sheriff's custody and why?
***000***
Dean woke up confused…he groaned, pulling his elbows in to push himself up and finding himself unable to do so. He waited for his senses to return but they remained elusive. He raised his head to peer around but his vision was blurry and despite his attempts to clear it by blinking repeatedly and lowering his head to rub his eyes against his knuckles, remained so. Well, least he could make out the sheet he was laying on had and blue stripes.
Panic started to bubble in his belly and he struggled to sit up, kicking at the blankets that had twisted around his legs like a vine making him think, in his dazed state, that his ankles were tied down. Pain flared and he choked, flinging his hands from him as if he could throw the pain away. Where the hell was he and whose bed was he in?
His saw his arm and went still. The sight of a light blue, v-necked t-shirt was all it took to quell his panic. His t-shirts were always black; it was the easiest way to tell his and Sammy's clothes apart.
Sammy.
He let himself go limp and collapsed face first into the mattress. If he were in bed, dressed in his brother's clothes, then his brother was close by.
"Sam?" he called, turning his head sideways on the mattress, rubbing sweat from his face on the sheet. "SAM?" he swallowed, his throat dry, voice not very strong. "Sam? SAM!"
"What?" and he was there, yawning as he stretched. "Hey, you're ok….."
"Sammy." now that he knew Sam was there, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Being awake brought too much pain and he wasn't ready to face it yet. The blind and utter panic that had consumed him upon regaining consciousness was no longer a force driving him to seek safety. He didn't need to, didn't need to do anything, didn't have to worry about where he was or try to remember what had happened or what to do next. He couldn't, he was too tired and too sick with pain to care about anything.
It was Sam's problem to care about.
Sam though, had other ideas. He'd worked himself into a tirade and now that Dean was awake, he was determined to let him have it and get some answers.
"Don't you ever do that again!" Sam ranted as he paced back and forth at the foot of the bed, hands flailing. He alternated between gripping his hair, settling his hands up his hips, punching his fist into his palm, interlacing his fingers behind his neck and flinging them about empty air. "Do you have any idea what you put me through?"
Dean kept his eyes closed because Sam's constant movement caused waves of dizziness to crash against his skull but those words uttered in that tone, popped his eyes wide open.
"Say what?" he struggled to sit up but only managed to flip to his back and raise his head to lay against the headboard, chin to chest. Sitting up made the dizziness caused by Sam's pacing to drive him nauseous and remaining upright without support would cause him to pass out - if he didn't puke in his own lap first. "What I put you through? What?" he shook his head to clear his ears lest they be clogged. Bad move. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" he blinked, where the hell was he? The question didn't require an answer because the answer didn't matter. Sam was with him, wherever the hell here was and even though his brother was furious, Dean was safe. He frowned, shaking his head and raising his voice had not been a good idea because he couldn't think straight.
Sam stopped pacing, eyes wide as he stared at his brother, unable to wipe the expression of disbelief from his face. Dean was mad at him? What the hell? What did he possibly have to be mad about?
"How does it feel Sam? The terror that claws at your belly, the fear that clogs your throat, the guilt that makes you shake. How the hell does that make you feel? Christ Sam!" the set down probably would have served its purpose better had his voice been strong and not so breathless. It was delivered with such a weak, trembling voice that Sam went all soft and sympathetic and was helping Dean sit up so he wasn't putting much weight on his shoulders or his back.
"I was possessed or taken or body swapped or addicted, I never just…." he stopped. He had up and left his brother before; had snuck out in the middle of the night on more than one occasion. He'd done it as a kid, a teenager and an adult without so much as leaving a note. "I never took a fucking vacation without so much as a phone call to you!"
"A vacation? What the hell made you think I took a vacation?" he couldn't do this, couldn't be angry and have this argument now. "You were the one who got in my face and told me to leave you alone! To go away and make myself scarce."
"I meant take a walk, go get a burger. I didn't mean for you to LEAVE! What the hell was that all about?" he blinked at the sound of a whimper and looked down to see Dean biting his lower lip, face contorted in a grimace of pain. "Shit." it was then he realized he still had his brother by the shoulders and had shaken him. "Sorry, Christ Dean, I'm sorry."
His brief spurt of energy spent, Dean let his eyes close. He didn't want to manipulate Sam this way but he just wasn't up to a fight. Best to give Sam some time to calm down, maybe by then, Dean would feel more up to staying awake and having this confrontation.
"Dean?" his voice was all soft again, concern replacing anger. "Sorry, man, you ok?"
Dean felt the tight grip on his shoulders turn into a caress, easing him flat onto the mattress. He didn't resist. Truth was, he could feel his tenuous grip on consciousness slipping steadily away from him.
"Okay, it's ok." he heard Sam murmur as the pillows were taken from where they'd been piled against the headboard and laid under his head. "You'll be ok, just go ahead and get some sleep." the pillow under his head smelled like flowers. He didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there, but flowers? His last thought before he allowed the darkness to claim him was that smell did not come from any motel bed sheet.
Awesome. Sam's fist struck the door frame with the heel of his hand as he left the bedroom. His brother finally wakes up and what does he do? Shake him, yell at him, scold him and allow his frustrations and fears to get the better of him. And the cost? Dean slinking back into the black depths of oblivion. Since when had he become afraid his brother would decide he'd had enough of Sam and leave him?
"Did the door growl at you?" Suzie teased as he came into the kitchen where she was unloading grocery bags.
"What?"
"You're beating up the walls."
"Oh." he looked at his hand, flexing his fingers in and out of a fist. "Sorry."
"He wake up?"
"Yeah…for a bit, went right back under."
"But he was ok, right? Knew you?"
"Oh yeah." he took a beer from the fridge, missing the look Suzie cast his way. "Next time he wakes up though, he's gonna know it."
"The pain, you mean? Yeah, I'd say so." she tossed him an apple. "Need ice?"
"Naw, I'm good." he pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. "Just, he…."
"You hungry? Can make you a sandwich, ham or turkey, choice of cheese….is he going to eat?"
"He passed out." he drank from the bottle then held it so he could see what he was drinking, beer - Dean's favorite liquid meal. "Uh, any coffee?" he set the bottle on the counter, he wasn't about to start that habit now.
"Sure, so…..what next?"
"Let him sleep awhile." Sam got up to get mustard. "Force him into the shower and make him let me see his back." he took the loaf of bread from her and a head of lettuce. "Dunno, guess I should see if he hit his head in the accident, he didn't focus his eyes when he was awake, was sick earlier." he rubbed the back of his neck. "He...was...I dunno, lucid for a bit, than faded out on me again."
"So, he didn't tell you anything? Was he capable of it?"
"Didn't ask…he wasn't...he's pretty weak. I didn't want to push and I'm tired of him fighting me."
"Sam…..if you suspect a head injury...and you can't wait much longer before his wrists..."
"I know, I know." he sighed. "I'll do it, I will. Sleep helped clear my head and I'll feel better after I have something to eat…I'm gonna need more peroxide or alcohol and some gauze. Did you think to get any, um supplies?"
"Got you covered." she pointed to another bag she had yet to unpack. "How bad do you think his wrists are?"
"Dunno, he doesn't want me touching them. All I've done is wrap bandages around gauze padding so he didn't bleed all over the bed. I haven't tried to clean them up or really touch them."
"Cuffs, you think?"
"Dunno. Don't see how, from what I saw, I've never known cuffs to do that kind of damage."
"Eat." she encouraged. "We'll tackle him later."
Dean was still asleep when Sam carried hot water, couple wash cloths, anti-bacterial liquid soap, gauze pads, peroxide and Bacitracin Zinc ointment into the room. He hated to disturb him, knew what he was about to do would rouse him from his peaceful sleep but he couldn't delay treatment to those wrists any longer. It might be he'd waited too long and find that infection was evident. He also had to get Dean to let him see his back and check for signs of head injury or concussion. He was well aware Dean didn't want him paying too much attention to his wrists and back because the injuries would tell Sam how Dean had acquired them.
Dean slept through Sam picking up his right hand and un-wrapping the bandage. He didn't begin to stir until Sam began pulling on the gauze padding that stuck to his skin from dried blood and puss. Sam swallowed hard, puss meant infection and signs of infection in less than twenty-four hours weren't good.
"Stop." Sam ordered softly, holding tight when Dean tried to pull his hand close to his chest. He was lying on his side and Sam had to stop him from turning onto his stomach and hiding his hands. "Dean…don't…come on…let me see." he easily unwrapped the bandage the hospital had wrapped around his hand to protect the stitches they'd set. Dean didn't seem to care about that, letting Sam trace the line of thread with a fingertip and it gave Sam time to let Dean settle down.
Sam had treated a lot of injuries over the years. His own, his dad's, Dean's, people he considered friend, complete strangers. He'd seen just about every kind of injury a person could have. Mild ones, minor ones, serious ones, life threatening ones. He'd seen people bear pain, overcome it, faint from it, fight it, give in to it, succumb to, die from it.
He'd seen damage and injuries that were the result of abuse, torment and torture inflicted by both humans and creatures, dealt out in anger and hate and fury, and had seen fatal injuries that caused a person to die slowly in extreme pain. Had seen human bodies gutted and torn apart…but this? This, God this, this made him sick to his stomach and forced him to swallow back bile that surged up his throat. Someone had done this to his brother.
He sat, his brother's hand in his lap, holding his arm against his thigh with just his thumb, unable to do anything more than sit there and rub the stitches as he fought not to vomit in revulsion.
He blinked rapidly, biting his lip, and his eyes filled. Dean had been restrained by every restraint known to man over the course of his life. Sam would know, he'd released his brother from rope, string, zip ties, electrical cords, metal cuffs, leather cuffs, hand cuffs, chains, and various articles of clothing and not once had Sam ever known him to fight any restraints like he had this time. And fight them, he had. The torn, shredded proof of how hard he had done so was bleeding onto his knees.
What had been done to him to cause him to fight the cuffs until he stripped the skin from his own wrists and tore through layers of tendons? How much pain would he have been in, to cause that?
"How bad?" Suzie lingered in the doorway. "He doesn't seem to happy, can hear him whining."
Dean's eyes opened and searched for the voice. Sam watched him and knew, he knew Dean recognized her because he didn't tense and shove a hand under the pillow in search of a gun. His throat tightened and his belly knotted in anger. Dean was awake and lucid and he knew Suzie.
"Hey, darling." Dean gave her a lazy grin. "Sammy drag you here to treat my boo-boos?"
"Hey Dean." she grinned back, next thing she knew, a hand was around her throat, squeezing until she couldn't breathe. She clawed at the hand that was choking her even as her head slammed into the wall she was thrown against.
"Who the hell are you?"
"SAM! HEY!" Dean surged to his knees. "SAM!"
"Who is she?" Sam demanded. "Who the fuck is she Dean? I swear, if this is some fucked up kinky sex game…."
"NO!" Dean yelped miserably. "I don't know! I mean, yeah, but….no….." he groaned. "Just let her go!"
"Do you know her?" Sam roared, shaking her, easily holding her off the floor with just one hand around her throat. "GOD DAMMIT DEAN!"
"Sam! LET HER GO!" Dean had got out of bed and was pulling on Sam's shoulder. "STOP IT! You're choking her!"
It was the warmth of blood dripping onto his arm, not the gurgling girl being choked against the wall that broke through Sam's haze of fury, made him come to his senses and realize the girl he was choking was purple.
"Who are you?" Sam eased his grip up a bit. "Who the hell are you?"
"Nice to meet you, Sam Winchester." she grimaced. "Do you mind?" she tugged weakly at his wrist. "Trying to breathe here."
"Who are you and how do you know who we are?"
"She called me." Dean was swaying, clutching the arm Sam held out to him. "Sammy….." his eyes rolled and Sam dropped Suzie to catch his brother as Dean passed out in his arms.