A/N: Thanks again to everyone who's been reading and reviewing this story. Y'all are the best! :D
Chapter 7
2 hours later
Dean was pretty sure his lungs were going to implode. Running through eight miles of woods will do that to you, but he really couldn't care less about his temporary discomfort, his only objective was to get out of the forest and back to the car.
This all would have been a lot easier if the helicopter that evacuated Sam could have given them a ride as well, but the flight paramedic that loaded his brother in had been insistent that there was no room for them in the small aircraft and they needed space to work on him. Dean wasn't a big fan of flying, but when he saw the chopper take off with Sam on board leaving him and his dad behind, he would have given his left arm to be on it with him just so his brother wouldn't have to be alone.
All they could do after that was race down the mountain on foot back to their cars. The miles of wilderness flew by as they ran, but still it wasn't fast enough in Dean's mind. Dad wasn't too far behind him and was holding his own and keeping pace with Dean's strides. However, he had to remind himself that his father wasn't a young man any longer, so while he pushed the pace, he also held back some so he wouldn't leave his dad in the dust.
Finally, a break in the trees showed through ahead of him and a dirt road came into view. With a great sense of relief, he also saw his car waiting on the shoulder where he had left it parked behind his father's truck. Behind him, Dean heard his father panting hard at his heels as he caught up to him and side-by side the two of them covered the last few hundred meters at a near sprint.
There wasn't much time for either of them to recover when they at last reached the rear bumper of the Impala, both of them too stoked with adrenaline and anxious energy to get ont the road to do much more than take a moment and catch their breath.
Dean looked at his dad. Sweat dripped from his brow and his face was red from exertion, but in his eyes he saw steely determination.
Still out of breath, but recovered enough now to speak, the former marine in his father started to come through and take over. "Get in the car, I'll drive. We'll leave the truck for Caleb."
Dean didn't need to be told twice and went directly to the passenger side and climbed in. Not wanting to leave Caleb, who was still out there somewhere in the forest, stranded without a vehicle, his dad went to the truck and opened the door, hiding his keys inside where he knew Caleb would look for them. Since the other hunter had left his own truck parked at the motel and taken a ride with his dad, he would need it to get to town as they just didn't have the time to wait for him to get back.
It was a thirty mile drive to the hospital the paramedic had told them they were taking Sam to, but with his dad behind the wheel, the miles went by in a blur. Neither of them spoke much on the way. Dean could tell by the way Dad's knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel and the muscles of his jaw clenched tight that he was in a focused zone that demanded no interruption.
The tension in the car was thick as butter and neither of them needed to say anything to know what the other one was thinking. Would Sam at least still be alive by the time they made it? That was a question neither of them wanted to ask out loud. The paramedic had been professional with his assurances that they would take good care of his brother, but Dean couldn't recall seeing anyone look so sick before and Sam hadn't even stirred when they loaded him up and took him away.
He felt a sinking chasm open up in his stomach when he realized that he had never even said good-bye to his brother before he slipped into unconsciousness.
Dean forced his thoughts away from the morbid. Sam would be fine, he tried to convince himself and focused instead watching the road ahead for any signs for the hospital.
OOOOOOOOOO
"Temp's 105.1...BP's 110 over 70...let's get X-ray down here...you got that line in yet?...hand me those forceps, will you? I want to get a better look at this...how are his O2 sats?..93%, Doctor...okay, let's get some oxygen into him... Damn, will you look at that? I can visualize the femoral artery...jeez, this kid's lucky, another centimeter..."
A mixture of male and female voices floated disembodied over him, mingling with each other and overlapping. He was freezing and someone was poking him in the arm, but it wasn't enough to draw him out completely from the fuzzy, twilight place he swam around in. It wasn't until he felt something come over his face that his eyes snapped open.
Whatever it was, it was unwelcome and closing in. He couldn't breathe...He had to get it off. He tried to lift his hand to wrench if from his face, but something was holding his arm down.
"Sam?...can you hear me? Don't pull off the mask, okay? It's going to help you breathe."
A blurry face of a woman rose above him. How does she know my name? He wondered sluggishly, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get his mind to fire on all cylinders. He had no idea where he was or how he got there, was only aware that it was bright and loud; a cacophony of multiple voices tripping over each other into a confusing chorus.
"You're in the hospital, Sam. My name's Dr. Warren. We're going to take care of you."
"Dean?...Dad?" Where were they? His eyes darted about, but there was no sign of either of them.
"I'm sure they're on there way, okay? Just relax." She assured him.
Just how was he supposed to relax? Everything hurt; every breath every, movement, every touch to his skin.
People were talking over him again. "Where's the surgery consult already?" Dr. Warren asked, but she had left Sam's line of sight and he was too exhausted to care where she had gone. Time had no meaning any longer as he drifted in and out letting the sea of voices wash over him in waves. Every now and then he'd catch a snippet of what they were saying, most if didn't make any sense, but when he heard the words. "let's get him up to surgery." He forced his eyes open.
"Surgery?" he asked, his own words sounding disturbingly distant and foreign in his ears, as though they were coming from someone else.
The woman he had seen before came into view. What was her name again? Didn't matter. He didn't want to go. He was afraid. He needed Dean, needed dad. Where were they?
"It's okay, Sam...just breathe. We're going to get that leg of yours fixed up and you're going to be just fine."
Next thing he was aware of was movement, of ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights passing by over his head, making him nauseous. He wanted to tell them to stop making the world feel like it was tilting upside down, but the energy required to open his mouth and speak had fled, replaced by a terrible malaise too powerful to overcome.
When they finally came to a stop, the woman who had spoken to him before was gone, replaced by a man this time who looked like he was wearing a shower cap. He seemed to be speaking to Sam, but his voice kept fading in and out. "Hello...Dr. Ellison...Gonna take good... just gave you something...make you sleepy..."
Sam felt a warmth spread from the back of his hand and travel up his arm. He couldn't deny that it actually felt quite pleasant. Just like floating on a fluffy cloud while wrapped in a thick, toasty blanket, he embraced the comfort and sank into the loss of pain and fear, drifting off into a deep, dreamless abyss filled only with darkness.
OOOOOOOOOO
Breaking every posted speed limit, Dean thanked God that all of the cops in this god-forsaken state seemed to be on a doughnut break and failed to notice the black, muscle car loudly tearing up the road until they reached the parking lot of their destination. His father pulled into a spot with a squeal of the tires, not bothering to make sure that the car was actually between the lines before he stomped on the brakes.
Dean was first out of the car, opening the door before the engine was shut off, but his father wasn't far behind as they quickly crossed the lot to the emergency room entrance and stormed through the doors.
Dad led the way to the reception desk, leaning over the top to get the nurse behind it to notice him. She was on the phone and held up a finger to them both before either of them could speak and Dean saw a muscle twitch over his father's left eye, his irritation and exasperation palpable. Thankfully, she hung up the phone before his father exploded and she looked up to meet his intense eyes. She immediately seemed to pick up on his annoyance and anxiety and focused her attention on trying to keep the situation from becoming volatile.
"I'm here for my son, Sam Winchester. He would have come in on the med flight..."
She quickly nodded. "Alright, sir. Let me just look him up in the computer." She turned her attention to the computer screen and started typing. Dean unconsciously tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently.
"Uh...I'm not seeing him in the ER..." Dean felt a wash of coolness come over him. What did that mean? He felt his breath catch in his throat and he didn't exhale again until the nurse suddenly spoke up again. "oh..there he is."
"Where?" Dean asked at the same time as his father.
"He's in surgery on the third floor." He closed his eyes with a sigh. Sam was still alive and he didn't think he'd ever been so relieved to here that he was being operated on.
Neither he nor his father offered any thanks to the nurse, instead they just started off for the doors that led to the rest of the hospital.
"Wait!" The reception nurse called them back. "I can get someone to talk to you. Dr. Warren saw your son in the ER and treated him before he went up. I can get her for you."
They both stopped and turned back. Dean felt the pull to just leave the ER and go right up to the surgical wing, but getting information on Sam's condition was paramount.
His father appeared to think the same and nodded to the nurse who picked up the phone and paged the doctor. Dad pulled him into a corner, out of the way of the nurses, doctors and patients walking about. Dean felt it hard to stay still and paced back and forth while they waited for the doctor to show.
What may have been only five minutes in reality felt like an eternity to Dean. "How long is this doctor gonna take already?" He complained.
"Calm down, Dean. Getting worked up isn't going to help."
"I know." He let his shoulders slump. "I just hate having to wait here with out thumbs up our asses."
Dean's attention was suddenly drawn to a lady in a white coat approaching them from behind.
"Are you Sam Winchester's father?" She asked.
He responded with a nod. "I'm John Winchester."
She held out a hand and introduced herself while his father took it and gave it a quick shake. "I'm Dr. Warren. I was in charge of Sam's care in the ER." She looked about, her curly, red hair bouncing from side to side. Under other circumstances Dean might have seen her as good-looking if not a little old for him, but right now, he took little notice. All he wanted from her was info and fast.
"It's a little busy in here right now. How about we go someplace a little quieter so we can talk?" She suggested and Dean finally noticed the other people sitting around the ER in chairs waiting for their turn to be seen. Dad nodded and the doctor turned and led them away from the crowded waiting area.
Following close behind her, she came to a door and turned the knob, holding it open until they crossed through.
"Please...have a seat. She gestured to a couch in what Dean could only assume was an employee lounge. She grabbed a chair herself and pulled it close to the sofa, sitting down and leaning in.
"I need to know how my son is doing, doctor. Is he going to make it ? Be honest, I don't need you to gloss over the details or dumb it down for me, I just want the truth." Dad requested frankly and pointedly.
The doctor, to her credit, didn't miss a beat, she had obviously dealt with many family members before and she wasn't intimidated in the least by his father, which was unusual to see and strangely refreshing.
"First off...I think Sam has a good chance of making it through this. He has our chief of surgery, Dr. Ellison operating on him right now to repair what damage he can to his leg. He'll try to close the wound as best as he can. But, I won't sugar-coat it, when Sam first came in he had a high fever and it appears that he was in the first stages of a gangrenous infection and unfortunately there's a possibility that the leg might not be salvageable should it get any worse."
"You mean he could lose his leg?" Dean swallowed a lump of fear in his throat.
"I'm just saying that it's possible, not that that will be the outcome. I'm sorry, but the important thing is to control the infection first and foremost, saving his limb comes second. Sepsis already appears to setting in, poisoning his blood and that can be life-threatening if we don't strongly combat it. Now, he'll be on some of the strongest antibiotics we have after surgery, but if they fail to combat the infection effectively, then the source of his illness may have to be removed."
Dad was quiet for few moments, then nodded solemnly, but Dean knew that he hadn't and wouldn't ever accept the possibility of Sam having his leg amputated. He'd find a way to fix this whether he had to track down some kind of hoodoo priest, faith healer or even make a pact with the devil himself, he wouldn't let that happen.
"Thank you, doctor for being honest." His father finally spoke.
She nodded grimly. "You're welcome. Now, It might turn out to be a lengthy surgery, but there is a family waiting room on the surgical floor where you can stretch out and take a nap. You both look like you could use some rest. Dr. Ellison will come and find you when he's all finished and let you know more about his condition. I'm sorry I don't have any more information for you right now, we'll have a clearer picture of Sam's treatment plan after he's out of surgery." She stood up and shook his father's hand again. "I'm afraid I have to get back to the ER now, but trust me when I say that Sam is in the best hands possible right now and everything will be done bring him a round to a full recovery."
Dean watched the doctor leave then turned back to his father for some kind of guidance. Their eyes locked and Dean caught the exhaustion, guilt and weariness there, but it was quickly dissipated when his father once again took charge
"Well, you heard her." He said. "Let's go wait."
To Be Continued.
