Chapter Seven

The flames had been mesmerizing, and the next thing Sam knew, it was daylight. The storms had long since passed, and the sun was beating down hard on his face. The birds were singing a sweet song of joy, as their delicacies of the morning were abundant on the rain soaked ground.

"Shit! What time is it?" Sam couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep. How stupid could he be. Checking his watch, he groaned to see it was almost 7 a.m. He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, or even how long he'd been out. He was sure that he was sore, stiff, wet, and filthy.

He needed a shower, and needed to get back to the hospital. He pulled his phone from his pocket, not knowing whether to be relieved or worried that he had no missed calls. He stuffed it back into his pocket, and started to drag himself up off the ground. With caked mud in his hair and all over his clothes, he knew he'd have to take a shower before going anywhere.

Slowly wandering back into the house, he grabbed his bag from the Impala, and tried to find his way upstairs. Through the kitchen, he passed what must have been a family room. There was a huge plasma TV mounted on the wall above an equally impressive fireplace in the corner. The other walls all sported large, cushy looking couches or chairs.

Beyond that, he found a small bathroom on his right, and a dining room on his left. The dining room having a formal table and chairs, it was set and waiting for it's guests. Sam kept walking towards the front of the house, passing a living room, and finally a foyer that held the stairs that would take him to the second floor.

Turning to face the stairs and start up, Sam hadn't realized he'd been tracking mud through the house from his feet. "Son of a bitch, what else can go wrong? Hasn't karma had had enough with us for a one day?" He kicked off is shoes, and ascended the stairs, head down and shoulders slumped.

The second floor had three bedrooms, a loft, and two full bathrooms, one of which was in the master bedroom. The master bedroom and bath comprised half of the upstairs. The other two rooms were a nice size as well, Sam choosing the larger of the two as it contained two beds. Dean would need one soon, too, he hoped. The room was almost as big as most of the motel rooms they'd stayed in.

He dropped his bag on one of the beds, digging through it for clean boxers, and headed to the bathroom. He undressed, kicking his filthy clothes into the corner. Turning on the water, he stepped inside, not really caring about the temperature. He just stood there and let it run down his tired, aching body, taking the mud and grime along with it. He finally soaped and shampooed, turning the water off when it ran clear down the drain.

He dried and dressed quickly, checking his phone once again. Still no calls. He knew he needed to eat, and decided to hit the kitchen before heading back.

He found a dear old friend in the pantry, taking it into the kitchen with him. He rummaged through every cabinet, finally finding the bowls and flatware. Selecting the largest bowl he could find, he filled it to the rim, poured in the milk he'd pulled from the fridge, and started chowing down on the biggest bowl of Lucky Charms he'd probably ever had.

He ate fast, gently tossed the bowl in the sink, put the milk and cereal back where he'd found them, and left the house, making sure to lock it behind him. He'd clean up that mud in the carpet later. He had to get to the hospital. It was already 7:45 a.m.

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It was just after eight o'clock when Sam arrived back at the hospital. The roads were all finally clear, and he lead footed it all the way. He parked and entered through the ER door, trying to find someone that could tell him where he needed to go. He didn't have to look far. He was immediately approached by a somewhat familiar face. She smiled wide as she greeted him.

"Hey Sam, you're back," Iris stating the obvious. "You need me to show you upstairs to the surgery waiting room? That's where they'll be looking for you."

"Thanks Iris. I'd appreciate that. Has there been any word yet? Can you tell me anything?"

"Sorry Sam. I haven't heard a word. I just got here myself. Come on, let's see if we can find anything out," she took his hand and led him to an elevator.

The elevator ride was slow and nerve-wracking. Every inch was one step closer to something Sam was sure he wasn't ready to deal with yet. It was taking forever to get to their floor, and Sam was starting to feel claustrophobic. He felt like he was suffocating. Mercifully, the doors opened wide, and Sam wasted no time getting out.

"Are you OK Sam? You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down? Iris expressed genuine concern for Sam's well-being.

"No, I'm fine, really. I just need to catch my breath. My nerves are just about on overload. Give me a minute to pull myself together."

"Sure thing. Let's just go down here and relax. I think you'll be much more comfortable. The waiting area is just down this hall." She led him down a very long, very empty corridor, only passing a few staff members here and there.

Past a small reception desk was the waiting area. Sam was impressed to see someone had actually made an effort to make the waiting room warm and inviting. Instead of the hard plastic of the ER, the room was furnished with deep beige, fluffy looking couches. There were numerous plants and a few vases full of fresh flowers. The walls were a pale yellow, the floor covered in a light beige carpet. Sam figured the couches were probably comfortable enough to sleep in, considering there were people that spent hours on end here waiting on word about their loved ones.

"Do you want me to wait with you for a while? I don't need to be downstairs for another hour or so."

"No, thank-you though Iris, really. I think I'd just like to be alone right now."

"I totally understand. If you need anything, just pick up that phone over there in the corner. It'll connect you with the desk we passed coming down the hall."

"Thank-you again, for everything."

"You're very welcome. I'll see you later Sam." She turned on her heels, giving Sam one more quick glance, and left him alone, as he'd asked.

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Ninety minutes and a lifetime later, Sam finally saw someone coming down the corridor. His heart leapt in his chest. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the news, but knew he desperately needed to.

Her stride was slow and weary, her face long and exhausted. Sam didn't like what he what he saw on it, didn't know what to make of it. He knew it couldn't be good though. He started towards her down the hall, intent on meeting her halfway.

"How is he Lou? How is Dean?"

"Can we go sit down Sam?" She just brushed past him, knowing he'd be right behind her. She found a comfortable spot on one of the couches in the corner of the empty waiting room, sat down, and rubbed her eyes so hard Sam thought she was going to pop them out the back of her head.

"Are you gonna tell me, or do I have to play twenty questions." There was obvious frustration in Sam's tone. It had already been a long night, and it was obviously going to be a long day too.

"I'm just trying to gather my thoughts in my own head Sam. If they're jumbled in there, they're coming out jumbled too. I'm not even sure where to start."

"How about at the top, and work your way down."

"Fair enough. Here it goes. Dean's got a depressed skull fracture behind his right ear. It doesn't appear deep enough to be putting pressure on the brain, but it is about the size of a quarter. He also has a cerebral contusion, with some minor bleeding. It looks like the bleeding has stopped on it's own, and I hope it has, because I don't really think he could survive anymore surgery right now. I've inserted an intracranial pressure monitor into his brain. It will tell me if there is any additional swelling other than what he already has. I'm keeping him in a drug induced coma for at least the next forty-eight hours, or until the swelling that has occurred has gone down. When it does, I'll start to bring him around and remove the monitor."

"You said he has bleeding and swelling in his brain. Will he have any permanent brain damage?" Sam was starting to feel sick.

"If everything stays status quo, and there is no additional swelling, I don't think there'll be any permanent damage. I am a little concerned by those seizures though. He had one at the scene, one in the ambulance, and another while we were prepping him. I think when the swelling goes down though, those will stop. I'm concerned that if he has another one though, it may start the bleeding up again"

"What else. I know there's more." Sam wondered how much worse this was going to get.

"Three of his right ribs were broken, one almost looks crushed. It pierced the lung and collapsed it. I'm leaving him on that respirator for the next forty-eight hours as well. We'll remove it before we start bringing him around. I don't want a repeat of the trauma room, and I don't want to have to restrain him either."

"Yeah, I heard what happened with that."

"I figured you had. I had a feeling Iris would tell you," she said that with a slight note of displeasure.

"His spleen is gone, it ruptured and had to come out. He also has a small laceration to his liver and bruising in the kidneys." She took a deep breath before continuing. "This is the part you aren't going to like Sam."

"I haven't liked any of it so far, why start now?"

"Yeah, well, it gets worse from here. He must have hit the ground pretty hard, because the T-11 and T-12 vertebrae were fractured. There wasn't any spinal cord damage, but there is a lot of swelling that's putting pressure on the spine. Right now, he doesn't have feeling in his hips or legs. I don't expect it to be permanent, but I just don't know for sure. The only positive to that is that he won't have any pain in that leg."

"That's a positive?"

"Trying to look on the bright side Sam. It actually is a positive. Dr. Scott placed two rods and quite a few pins and screws. The muscle damage was pretty extensive, but there doesn't appear to be much nerve damage. With the nerves intact, he's going to be in a lot of pain for quite some time. It took a long time to close it up too. He's on a heavy does of IV antibiotics, and will be until we're satisfied that the threat of any infection has passed. If he develops a fever, or his leg starts to get mottled in color, we're in serious trouble, and he could lose it. And the antibiotics are probably going to make him feel sick."

"Is there anything else? I don't think I can comprehend much more." Sam's head was swimming, most of what he'd just heard was still trying to find a place to seep in.

"Other then the numerous stitches in his face, arms, and chest, I thing that about covers it. I do need to ask you one question though Sam, if you don't mind?"

"Yeah, anything."

"Who shot Dean? There is a relatively fresh bullet wound in his left arm. You wanna tell me where that came from, or do I have to play twenty questions myself?"

Sam looked at her with a look of shocked guilt spread across his face. "Technically, I did, but it was an accident. There was this demon, and…."

"Say no more, I don't think I want to know the rest."

"When can I see him? I need to see him Lou, please."

"As soon as they move him from recovery to the ICU, we'll go see him. I need to explain a few things to you Sam, before you see him though. I need you to know he's not a pretty sight, and I want you to be prepared. He's in a halo collar to prevent his head from moving. There are four metal prongs in his head that hold it in place. He's immobilized from the waist down by a back brace, and his leg is in a soft cast, so that it is easily removable to change bandages. Between that, the monitors, and the respirator, your nerves are going to be really on edge. He looks like he's been skipping through a war zone, and got hit by every shell along the way."

"I can handle it, can we just go see him?"

"As soon as they page me, we'll head up. Listen Sam, I am not going to let you sleep in the crappy chair in that room, knowing that Dean is not going to be coherent for at least the next two days, probably more. You won't do him or yourself any good. You'll only succeed in making yourself tired, uncomfortable, and miserable. When I start bringing him around, you're more than welcome to hang out 24/7, but until then, you will leave when I do. I can ban you from the ICU altogether, please don't make me do that. It would be for your own good, of course. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal. But when he's off those meds, I WILL be there when he wakes up. Are we clear on that? I won't have him waking up alone."

"Fine by me." Lou felt the soft hum of her pager in her pocket. "They're ready. Let's go."

"It's about time?"

"Hey, you can't rush perfection Sam. You want it done right, don't you? Come on. Follow me." She got up and headed to the elevators, Sam close behind.

The room had so much equipment and so many machines and noises, Sam thought he'd walked straight into a NASA control room. He felt relief wash over him at the sound of the heart monitor though. The sound of Dean's heart beating. The sound that told Sam he was alive.

Lou was right, he was more than overwhelmed at the sight before him. He wasn't even sure he was in the right room, the person in the bed looked nothing like the Dean he knew. He looked like a black, blue, and purple quilt, stitched together by some arthritic, blind, ninety year old woman. There were sutures everywhere on his face and chest. His chest laid bare, electrodes stuck in every place the stitches weren't. His eyes were sunken in, and the pasty white of his complexion made the black and blue around his eyes stand out like a cat in a room of canaries.

The first thought Sam had while looking at the head brace was that he wasn't watching anymore "Hellraiser" movies. The four prongs dug into Dean's skin like some medieval torture device. Thankfully, he was covered from the chest down by a sheet. He really didn't need to see the rest. He was pretty sure he'd seen enough, and he didn't like what he'd seen already.

He gently placed his had atop of Dean's, letting one lone tear streak down before wiping it away with the other. He just needed the physical contact. He cringed at the feel of Dean's hand. "Lou, Why's he so cold? His hand is like ice. That can't be good, can it?"

"His circulation isn't back to normal yet. We had to give him quite a bit of blood. As soon as it regulates, his extremities will warm up again. Try not to worry too much Sam, the worst is over. Now we just sit back and wait."

Sam didn't say anything, he just stared at his brother as he listened to the steady rhythm of the respirator pumping oxygen into Dean's battered lungs. He couldn't believe that just twenty-four hours ago he'd been giving him hell, and enjoying it.

"Sam, I've got to finish some rounds and some paperwork. When I'm done, you and I are leaving. It's not a request, it's an order. I'm exhausted, and so are you. He'll be in good hands, and we'll be back tonight. I promise I'll let you sit here all night if you want, but in the morning, we go home." She didn't even wait for a response, she just walked out the door, leaving no room for argument.

Sam pulled up a chair as close to the bed as he could get, making sure he was turned so that he faced Dean. Taking Dean's hand in his once again, he spoke to him, hoping that somewhere in there, Dean could hear him.

"Dude, you really did a number on yourself this time. If you wanted some time off, you could have just said so. Did you really need to go to this extreme? I did the salt and burn, so if you're worried about that, don't be. And the car and our gear is all safe. You just focus on getting better, let me worry about the rest right now."

Sam needed to keep talking. He needed to get everything off his chest, even if Dean couldn't hear him. "So, it was good to see Lou again. She saved your life, you know. She can't be all that bad, can she. I wish you'd tell me what you have against her. Maybe someday you will. Yeah, right. You never tell me anything, who am I kidding? I guess that's just part of your charm, isn't it?"

"Sam, can I get you anything?" That familiar voice again, Sam turned around to see Iris enter the room. She approached him and her patient, gently laying a hand on Dean's leg. "I told you he'd pull through. He's a fighter, isn't he?"

"That he is. He's one though bastard."

"If you need anything, just hit that call button, and I'll come running OK? I'll be stationed up here for the next couple weeks. I'll take good care of Dean."

"Yeah, thanks."

When Sam was sure they were alone, he looked at Dean and just shook his head. "Dude, I think Nurse Iris has a thing for you. Bet she's looking forward to giving you a sponge bath or two. Even in a coma, the chicks can't stay away." Sam just chuckled at that.

The next two hours went by in silence, an occasional nurse coming in to check on Dean, express her sympathies to Sam, write things down, and walk out again. The droning sound of the respirator was slowly lulling Sam to sleep, it's rhythm hypnotizing. Sam was about to drift off, when someone else came into the room. 'Please don't let it be Iris again' he thought.

"Sam, it's time to go," Lou's voice brought him back to full alertness. "You can drive me, I'm beat, and I'm starving. How's a pizza sound?" She was at Dean's bedside, reading what the nurses has written, and scrutinizing the monitors. She jotted a few notes of her own down and replaced the chart to it's assigned place. "Come on Sam, they'll page me if anything happens. It's probably gonna be a long, uneventful night. I don't think you'll miss anything but a backache." She rounded the bed and took Sam by the hand, pulling him up and out of the chair with an awful lot of force for such a little person.

"You ever take no for an answer?" He asked her as she led the way out the door.

"No."

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Pizza in hand, they entered the house, both bleary-eyed and exhausted. Lou opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass for herself, and one for Sam. Handing him the glass, he just stared at it. "Go ahead Sam. You're over twenty-one and it's not gonna bite you. Besides, it's five o'clock somewhere. It goes great with pizza anyway, and it'll calm your nerves."

"Something to calm my nerves would be a godsend right now."

"Then drink up, there's more where that came from."

They ate, drank, and made small talk for a while, until Sam asked the question he'd had burning in his brain since this whole thing began.

"Hey Lou, what happened between you and Dean? Why don't the two of you talk anymore?"

"I wish I could tell you that Sam, but I can't."

"You can't or you won't?" The more time he spent with Dean, the more secrets he realized his brother kept.

"I can't tell you Sam. I can't tell you because I just don't know. It was like he woke up one day, flipped a switch, and decided I was shit to him. I wish I knew why Sam, I really do."

"I don't buy it. Tell me the whole story, from the beginning. I want to hear it."

"My whole story, from the beginning? You really don't know?"

"There's a lot of things I don't know. Enlighten me, please."

"Ok, but we're gonna need more wine."