Diving In A Pool Of Pain
Summary. . . . . . Months of bullying come to a head for Sam, alone and in pain will he be able to get help? Or will he succumb to a pool of pain?
Disclaimer. . . . . Forgot about these things! Not mine never will be yada, yada, yada. Mistakes though are mine and while I try and get everyone, some eventually get past. Also I'm not someone who works in medicine and I'm not the best at research, so if anything about the medicinal terms seems off please forgive me!
A.N. . . . . . Real life what a B it can be at times, I'm sorry for the late post, but between work and this fic completely running away with me things have been hectic.
I have to take time to apologize yet again for not yet getting around to responding personally to all the awesome reviews, I hope to eventually do so just as soon as this one is finished, thank you to each and every one though as always they're very much appreciated. Hope you enjoy chapter 3, happy reading, Peanut x
Dean raced around the side of the pool. Dropping to his knees, gasping slightly as the chill of the water lapped against his ankles, he reached forward a trembling hand towards Sam's neck desperately wanting to feel the steady thump, thump, thump beneath his fingers, crying out in anguish when his digits felt nothing. He moved his hand slightly, thinking that maybe he was checking in the wrong place, but all he could feel was Sam's cold, lifeless body. Dean frantically turned Sam over, he knew how to do CPR, he could bring Sam back. Tilting his head back, Dean breathed into Sam before placing his hands over his chest and pushing, one breath, fifteen pushes, one breath, fifteen pushes, and on and on and on. He felt his Dad's hand rest upon his shoulder, heard his words but wouldn't believe what he was telling him.
"Dean, stop! It's too late, Dean." Fifteen pushes.
"Dean! It's too late, Dean." One breath.
"It's too late, Dean." Fifteen pushes.
"Dean!" One breath.
"Dean!"
"Dean!"
"DEAN!" Dean startled awake, gasping for breath and trembling slightly, perspiration gathering on his lip and forehead. The remnant of the dream still resided in his head bringing tears to his eyes as he remembered the events of twenty four hours ago. He swiped at them angrily, what was he crying for? He wasn't the one lying so still on a hospital bed, tubes and wires and machines helping him to stay alive. He wasn't the one who was "lucky" because the chill of the water had slowed his heart enough so that the blood loss wasn't as bad as it could have been. He wasn't the one whose body was so broken, so traumatized that it had started to shut down leaving the doctor no choice but to put it into a drug induced coma, allowing it some time to fix itself. He wasn't the one whose face had been punched and kicked so much it had blown up to twice it's size and was barely recognizable, the healthy tan it usually carried now replaced by ugly bruises of purple's, and black's, and green's. No, he was just the one who had let his brother down. He was the one who had forgotten how important Sam was. He was the one who had placed hunting, hustling, and women above his most prized possession. So what the hell was he crying for?
He looked up at the hand that still rested on his shoulder as it gave him a reassuring squeeze once more. "It's not your fault Dean, it's theirs. Sam's stubborn, he's a fighter, he's a Winchester. He'll find his way back."
Dean rolled his eyes making sure his Dad couldn't see him. He wished with all his heart that he could believe the words he had just spoken, but the doctor's words kept on repeating themselves in his head. Hairline fracture to the knee, badly sprained ankle, broken nose, fractured cheekbone, severe concussion resulting from a head wound, broken ribs, punctured lung, the list went on and on, and with every injury mentioned Dean had felt a little bit more guilt eat away at his insides. He looked around the empty hospital room his eyes briefly flittering across his Dad, who tired and disheveled was now back in his own hard plastic chair, before they rested on the place where Sam should be, his bed now removed as he faced his second surgery in as many days, this time to fix the injury that still sent chills throughout Dean's body.
Subconsciously Dean's mind took him back to the sight of his little brother laying half in and half out of the freezing water. He vividly remembered the pool of blood that rested like some kind of grotesque halo around Sam's damage face. He vividly remembered the short plumes of steam that assured Dean that despite all the damage Sam was still alive. He vividly remembered the disgust, the indignity of it all as he finally pulled Sam from the water and noticed his near nakedness, noticed even more blood forming, noticed the swelling on one side, the rupture on the other. Mixed emotions had assaulted Dean at that point, he gravely wanted to punish someone, he desperately wanted to take all Sam's pain away, he urgently wanted to be sick, but most of all he wanted to turn back time, to start afresh, to be more of the brother that Sam deserved. It all made no sense to him, they hunted evil, and they had done most of their lives, yet for the first time Dean had to wonder if the true evil out there was a lot closer to home.
Noises coming from the hallway broke through Dean's contemplations, both he and his Dad standing as Sam's bed was rolled back into the room and pushed back into place, his doctor's voice sounding out.
"John, Dean, could I speak with you both outside?" Noticing their reluctance he added. "You'll both be in the way as they set Sam's machines back up, as soon as they have finished you'll be let back in."
Both older Winchester's followed the young doctor back outside, both still not wanting to leave the youngest member of their rag tag family, but both desperately wanting to hear news of his latest battle.
"How did my son's surgery go?" John asked as soon as they had stepped into the hallway.
"It went well. He came through the procedure fine."
"Then why do I feel as though there is a "but" coming?" Dean asked this time.
"We were unable to save the right testes, the blow I'm afraid was too severe, and the damage extensive, the only option was removal. Added to that, we're still worried about the other organ and will be keeping a close eye on its progress as the swelling starts to reduce; if it starts to deteriorate then we may have to remove that also. There's still a good chance that even though we wont have to remove it, the left could have been damaged enough to prevent future reproduction."
Dean sagged as the doctor's words registered, while he himself saw no children in his future, Sam did. Sam saw the homely wife, the white picket fences, the two point four kids, he craved normality and Dean knew this news would crush his younger brother. His anger at Drew intensified and it took all of Dean's control not to bolt from the hospital find the guy and beat the living crap out of him. Trying not to think about how he was going to give Sam that news Dean asked. "What about the rest of his injuries? Is the brain swelling coming down? What about his lung?"
The doctor looked at the two distraught men before him, initially he hadn't known how to take them, he'd seen the numerous old scarring that had marred Sam's body, and he'd had no choice but to report what he had found, now though he wished he hadn't. He had seen first hand the protectiveness, the love they both had for his young patient, the inquisitiveness they had to find out every single bit of news about his recovery. He sighed deeply before answering.
"The swelling is reducing, but not as quickly as we had hoped. Scans are still encouraging though, his brain activity is increasing steadily. We just have to give him time. His lung is functioning well since his surgery yesterday and we should be able to start weaning him off the ventilator tomorrow morning, if that goes well we can look at reducing the sedatives and start to bring him out of the coma."
Both Winchester's breathed a sigh of relief, the doctor though hadn't finished. He had hoped to hold the next bit of news off, but he knew that the sooner they knew, the more time they would have to come to terms with it. "There's one more thing." He tentatively began. "I've had to set Sam up for a psyche evaluation."
"What?" Both Winchester's stated at once.
"I've arranged for Dr. Williams our psychiatric consult to talk to Sam as soon as he's awake. He's in for some rough month's ahead dealing with his injuries, the attack and his loss. In my opinion it would be in Sam's best interest to do this."
John and Dean just stood there open mouthed; this was something they hadn't contemplated. They knew that Sam would have to talk; it was after all Sam, but to some stranger? The thoughts of both men were interrupted by the nurses leaving Sam's room, looking hopefully at the doctor they waited for the okay to return, rushing back to Sam's side when they received it, effectively dismissing the doctor. The physician watched as they took their usual place either side of Sam's bed before he headed away. Even though his back was to the door, Dean knew the instant the doctor had left; carefully taking Sam's hand in his he spoke without taking his eyes off his younger brother.
"He won't talk."
"I know."
"Then what will we do? They could refuse to release him; they could even take him away."
"Once he's awake, we'll leave. You know your brother; he's more likely to recover faster if he's not stuck in a hospital."
"Where will we go though? We can't go back to the house, and a motel room isn't exactly a great environment to get better in, so where?"
"We'll go to Jim or Caleb's."
Dean seemed happy enough with that decision and focused his attention once again upon Sam. John watched as his eldest tried his best to offer comfort to his youngest, he knew that the doctor's words had rattled Dean, hell they had rattled him. Deep down he also knew that the evaluation wasn't just for what Sam had been through recently, he remembered the doctor's open hostility towards them when he had come to see them after Sam's initial checking over, John had known straight away that the hostility was because of the scars that littered Sam's body, some of which were caused by every day hazards but most of which were supernaturally put there. Ever since then John had been waiting for the CPS to drop by, and they were someone who he truly dreaded facing. He knew that Dean would be okay, at nineteen he was old enough to take care of himself, but John knew that at not quite fifteen Sam was in danger of being taken away.
John didn't know what he would do if Sam were ever taken away, for all he rode on his youngest, treating him poorly at times, snapping at him frequently during the past few years, he loved his baby boy dearly. To lose him, John knew, would be the death of his small family, and that was something he just couldn't allow to happen. Taking another quick glance at his two sons, John rose from his chair, kissing Sam softly on his head he headed for the door to make plans, stopping on the threshold as Dean's voice rang out.
"I can guess at what you said to Drew Dad, but he's mine!"
John looked back to see his eldest sons eyes blazing fury, a very small miniscule part of him feeling sorry for what was to become of Drew, taking another glance at Sam though that small feeling was soon extinguished. Nodding he spoke up. "Okay, just make sure you're careful. When are you going?"
"I'll wait until Sam wakes." Dean answered watching as his Dad, seemingly happy with his response, left the room. Turning back to Sam, Dean began whispering encouraging words. "I know you can hear me geek boy. You have to fight your way through this. I know it's gonna be hard, that it's gonna be tough, that it's gonna be painful. . . . ." Dean paused as his voice broke, eyes watering he added. "But I need you back by my side Sam. I need to make things up to you, I need to prove to you that I'm still good big brother, I need to prove to you that you're still my main priority in life. I love you little brother, please hold onto that."
Dean had to stop as tears ran incessantly down his face, and sobs wracked his frame. How could he have messed up so badly? How could he have forgotten Sam so easily? He forced himself to calm down, forced himself to be stronger, forced himself to think of ways to avenge his brother; a smile forming on his lips as a plan began to form.
Sam continued to show signs of improvement throughout the next few days and true to the doctor's words the ventilator had been removed, and the sedatives that had kept the youngest Winchester under had also been reduced, his doctor insisting that Sam would start to come around soon. Dean and John had sat at his bedside ever since, neither one wanting to leave for any reason and miss him waking, both men relying on Caleb, who had showed up yesterday to help when Sam left, to bring them food and drink, both men too attentive to any movement Sam made to even think of anything else. It started out slowly with the barest move of his fingers or head, a slight twitch of his leg; for John and Dean used to seeing Sam so lively even whilst sleeping, these small steps felt like giant leaps.
As Sam fought back to consciousness and began to note the pain and restrictions he began to panic and move all the more, both older Winchester's trying their best to calm him down, yet at the same time encourage him to wake up. Hours passed and both men began to wonder if the beating Sam had sustained had damaged him more than they thought when Sam finally managed to force his good eye open. He blinked it a few times trying to get his vision to focus properly, but no matter how many times he tried to clear it, it always came back blurry. He let out a groan of pain as his unused optical nerve protested at the brightness of the room and sent signals to his head and stomach, the former began throbbing unmercilessly, the latter starting to roll and slosh alarmingly.
Sam tried to sit up knowing what was about to come, but just couldn't seem to coordinate his tired body. Fuzzy shapes encroached on his vision startling Sam, sending waves of panic over him. He thought he could hear them speaking, but it was difficult to tell over the thudding of his heart and the white noise that seemed to be getting louder, the voices drawn out and muffled. He grabbed at the person to the right of him trying to push him away, his muddled mind seeing him as a threat, but the shape stayed rooted to the spot. He groaned again as the need to be sick increased, he tried to get the words to form, tried to get his mouth to work, but the words seemed blocked by the fast approaching bile.
Sam, defeated and drained, dropped his hand back to the bed and waited for the inevitable sickness to arrive. Because his struggles subsided his heart stopped pounding as much and his brain began to pick up more of the words being spoken. "Alright. . . . Okay. . . . Relax. . . . Hurt yourself. . . . Sammy." At that last word Sam began to cry, that was Dean. Dean could help him, Dean would make this all better, Dean could take away all the pain and nausea. Sam tried again to form the words to let Dean know of his distress, grasping hold of his arm again, this time recognizing the soft leather of his jacket, he tried to pull his brother forward. Dean must have understood as the shape stooped lower, mustering all his strength Sam managed to croak out. "Gon' b sic."
His words must have been enough as he was soon being gently lifted and a basin placed before him, and finally Sam allowed the nausea to over come him. He cried out in agony as the first heave ripped through his body, screamed when the second one struck, by the time he was finished he had been reduced to a quivering, sweating wreak, balancing just this side of consciousness. He grasped for Dean's hand again, and the strength that he always seemed to get from his brother, relaxing some as Dean took his hand in his own and gently squeezed it. He heard Dean talking again and tried to push his pain aside so he could listen, again only picking up limited words. "Okay. . . . Sleep. . . . Here. . . . Wake up." Sam gave Dean's hand a squeeze back in understanding before allowing himself to fall once more into oblivion.
A.N. . . . . Was It okay? Just one more chapter to go, can't say when that will be posted, though I'm kinda hoping for the beginning of the week. Catch you soon and as always thanks for taking time to read, Peanut x