I can feel the seconds as they fly past me,tearing at me. Sam's body is quaking, there's red erupting on bandages. Someone rips my hands from his shoulders and pushes me from the fly in, the blinds on his windows close, and the door slams shut. I roar,bang on the wall. There's muffled speak from inside the room, and I can see the outline of figures crowding the bed.
"FUCK." It's a pediatric ward. Dirty looks all around. Screw you,too. Pacing's not the best alternative to screaming until I'm hoarse, but it has to do. I walk up and down the length of his room,worrying my cell phone. A man, a doctor,comes out from Sam's room, and grabs my shoulder. I jerk away, and he puts his hands up in defense.
" Sorry," Though he doesn't seem so apologetic. " Please,come with me." He leads me to a break room and takes a sip of a cup of coffee.
" Has your brother ever had a seizure before?" He asks.
No. Can I see him? " If Sammy had had a seizure before, I'd have known. Right? He would have told me. But the doctor ignores me.
"Obviously we can't release your brother now. Even if this was his first, he had a Grand Mal seizure."
"Is that bad?"God, I should call Bobby. Dad?
"Yes, even by itself."
"Well, this is fantastic." I sit down heavily in chair. Sam had a seizure. Sam got hurt on a hunt with me and had a seizure. The doctor looks pointedly at me, and I realize too late I'm still covered with bloody vomit,shit.
"Can I see him?" I don't even bother getting up.
"He's still unconscious. We're just changing his sheets and robes and fixing the stitches that were ripped up. He's going to be nauseous when he wakes up, so I suggest you clean up,first."
...
Hospital showers never have the right water pressure. Even when you're a patient,it's either as weak as a drizzle or feels like a hurricane. I scrub with the soap,watching as the blood disappears down the drain in red swirls. When it turns cold, I put on the loose scrubs they gave me when I said I had no clothes. I pad back down the pediatric hallway. The nurse gives me a look and I resist the urge to put up my finger. Sam's door is open.
They changed his gown and sheets,and fresh bandages wrap his forehead. He cracks his eyes open when I sit next to him,and closes them again.
"Nice clothes." He croaks. I pick at the loose blue material.
"Got 'em 'cause of you. How you feeling?"
He shrugs one uninjured shoulder and opens his eyes again.
"Don't really remember anything. Woke up when they were redoing the stitches. Seizure?" Sam looks so scared that it's easy to remember,despite his massiveness,that he's barely 15.
"Yeah,man. When you do something,you do it all the way. You had a grand mal." His face whitens. Of course he'd know what a grand mal is.
"You're fine now."
"Fine." Sam echoes. He's silent for a minute,and looks dead tired. I figure he's probably going to sleep,but he speaks up.
"Why'd you change?" I laugh,though it's really not funny at all.
"Dude,you puked all over me beforehand."
He looks mortified,averting his eyes.
"Oh please,it's not the first time."
"That's not better,Dean."
"Whatever, bitch." He smiles a bit.
"Jerk!"
He falls asleep soon after,and I'm relieved. He kept stalling,firing his eyes open,like he's scared he'll have another seizure in his sleep. If he does...I'm ready.
They added anti-seizure medication to his growing list of drugs. They left the list next to his bed,and I read it while he sleeps. Clearly,even if they don't know why he had it,there's no point in allowing him to keep having them. The room grows dark. A nurse drops my clean clothes back in when she checks Sam's vitals,but I don't really want to leave him.
Dad. Should I call him? Would he care? We haven't talked since he left last week. He swept out of Sam's room when he was still unconscious, sweeping away concerns about his sons and mumbling about the hunt. It was a damn salt and burn. There were other hunters he could have contacted. Why didn't he? Why did he abandon us?
God.
Somehow,it's morning,and a nurse is checking Sam's vitals. He's still sleeping, so I force myself to roll out of bed and wash my face. Sammy's seizure earned himself at least a couple more weeks in the hospital,I should really go buy some clothes or something. As I'm drying my face with a rough towel, my phone vibrates against my leg.
"Hello?"
"Dean,how's the kid?"
"Hey,Bobby. Uh,not good." I cross the room and sit back on the unmade cot, puling my boots on.
"Not good? Dean, you said you'd be out today."
"That's what we thought. But Sam, he was sleeping last night,then he woke up,puked red all over himself,and had a seizure." There's silence.
"Fucking hell. I'm coming."
"No,Bobby, wait-" But all I get is a dialtone. I snap the phone shut and sigh. It's not a terrible thing that he's coming, really.I just don't think Dad would approve.
Sam spends the day sleeping. When he's awake, he's woozy and emotional. I don't even bother telling him that Bobby's coming. I spend the day staring at my phone. Not one call. Not a text,email,smoke signal,whatever. It's like Dad's forgotten he ever had sons.
Some doctors come in round 4,attach monitors to Sam's forehead. Apparently it'll help be on the lookout for another seizure. He wakes up at six,and he's more alert than ever.
" Dean."
"Hey, how you feelin?"
"Not good." Sam starts to blink rapidly and I can feel my heart sinking. I get up from my chair and sit on the edge of Sam's bed.
"What's wrong,man?" Sam looks away. I get the feeling he's not quite as alert as I thought.
"Where's dad?" He asks in a tiny voice. I rub the back of my head.Fuck you,Dad.
"Uh, he's not here,Sammy." Sam looks at me with a hurt expression.
"Why isn't he here?"
"He had to finish the hunt." We've been over this before.
"The hunt? But...I'm in the hospital?"
"I know."
There's tears pooling on his face. Oh god,these drugs are doing awful things to him.
"He hates us,he has to." Sam's voice cracks and in an instant he's only ten,tiny and scared.
"No, he's,"I need to say something -anything. " He's just, he's-"
"He's a bastard,and he hates me,Dean,he hates 's why he's not here." His face is a violent red,he sobs into his hands.
"Fuck,Sam,calm down." There's a tightness in my chest, getting worse as Sam rocks back and forth. I grab his hands and pull them from his face. Stop,is all I can think, stop doing this to me. His eyes are bloodshot and the bruises on his cheek stand out from his pale skin. He won't look at me, so I force his chin up gently,leaving my hands on his feverish cheeks.
"If Dad wants to be a bastard and leave us in some skank-ass hospital while he goes and finishes a hunt, let 'em. Fuck that, we don't need him.I'm not going to leave you. We're gonna go to Bobby's,hang around and bother him for a few weeks. And if Dad decides to show up,we'll...well,we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. OK?"
"OK."
He buries his face in my shoulder and as I wrap my arms around him, I wonder if I keep repeating that I don't care, I'll make myself believe,too.