Disclaimer: Sadly, I still don't own Supernatural, just playing with the boys for my own entertainment.
The nurses continued to watch over the traumatized young man at the end of the hall. They had seen Bobby around and knew from Dr. Bourke that the older man was trustworthy. What kept them on edge was the towering brunette that followed him, who refused to meet any of their eyes. He kept his jaw clenched and swallowed convulsively while staring at the floor.
Bobby had introduced him to Cheri as Sam, a close friend of Dean's. She wasn't really sure why she was suspicious of the young man, but she instructed her nurses to keep an eye on him. She poked her head into Dean's room whenever she was going by and kept Dr. Bourke post on what was going on. All she knew was that she couldn't wait for the giant man to leave her floor.
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Sam and Bobby sat quietly by Dean's bedside, watching him breathe and sleep. Bobby had moved his chair close and pushed Sam back so that he would be out of Dean's line of sight should he wake. The older man gripped Dean's limp hand in both of his, eyes darting between the limp hand, red splotched bandages around the wrist and under the restraint, to his pale face with bruises to match Sam's fingers and still damp tear tracks. Jesus, this has all gone to hell.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to shake Dean by his shoulders and scream at him to wake up. He wanted to punch Sam in the face and scream at him to never hurt his brother like this again. He wanted to scream at the nurses and the damn doctor for not dealing with the situation any better. Bobby took deep breathes. Don't you dare fucking lose it, these boys need you.
Sam sat quietly, his gaze glued to his brother's face; however, Bobby's rapid breathes drug his attention to the older man. He looked at his surrogate father and feared that Bobby's closed eyes, tight-lipped grimace, and rocking motion as he clung to Dean's hand meant that he was close to snapping and that he would take it out on Sam. Well, I knew he'd eventually blame me. And I deserve it. I hurt Dean badly and expected Bobby to be okay with it.
Without thinking, one of Sam's massive hands brushed the older man's elbow, drawing his attention towards him. Bobby calmed his breathing and gave him a tearful, wobbly smile. "Thanks, Sam," he murmured. "I hate seeing either of you boys hurt and knowing I can't fix it." Sam nodded jerkily. Maybe I was wrong; maybe we can still be okay.
Bobby studied Sam for a brief minute, watching emotions flit across the younger's face. He had been more concerned about Dean since he was the one that was physically hurt, and he'd tried to be there for Sam as well, but the look on his face told Bobby that he'd failed. That he had made Dean the most important in this mess, and that Sam thought he deserved a death sentence. He was angry with Sam, there was no denying that, but he was determined not to alienate the younger boy. Even if Dean woke and wanted to never see his brother again, Bobby had promised that he would try not to abandon Sam.
He let go of Dean's hand with his right and reached it back to Sam, lightly patting his knee. Sam's frightened eyes snapped up to meet his, and Bobby smiled. "I know I haven't helped you as much as I can, Sam, but I want you to know that I haven't forgotten ya," he said softly. "You and Dean are both important to me, and I'm sorry for being so harsh with you. Just trying to protect you both." Sam nodded, tears beginning to slip from his hazel eyes. "Thanks, Bobby," he whispered, clasping the hand resting on his knee. They sat in a more companionable silence, the tension in the room easing.
A nurse bustled into the room, breaking the stillness among its occupants. She gave a tight smile and Bobby recognized her as Cheri, the head nurse. She attempted to shoo both men from the room so she could take care of Dean, but both stubbornly refused. She raised an eyebrow and her smile relaxed as she took in their willingness to get out of her way and their equally overprotectiveness surging as they watched her like a hawk.
She made no small talk like the other nurses, and she was quick and efficient with her care to Dean. She didn't swoon and she didn't curse "whoever could hurt such a beautiful face". She did, however, grumble about people treating each other better and that it was a shame that people could take from one another so easily. She kept all other thoughts and comments to herself.
She turned back to Bobby and informed him that Dean seemed a little feverish and that it could be from infection or the stress and anxiety the boy had experienced earlier. She reported to both that he appeared comfortable and that his body was working very hard to repair itself, and that he could wake soon. She left as briskly as she came after soliciting a promise from both men that they would call her immediately if Dean seemed uncomfortable, his fever spiked, or if he woke.
Bobby resumed his seat by Dean's head, his left hand sifting through the boy's blond hair and brushing a pale cheek to test for fever, while Sam continue to clutch his right hand. The two hunters sat and waited for the third member of their tiny family to rejoin them.
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As the day wore on, both men grew more irritated with each other and the situation they found themselves in. Dean had yet to wake, although his fever remained low. Sam and Bobby had taken turns pacing the small room and agitating the nurses with questions. Cheri had begun to appear in the room more frequently and her attempts at appeasing the men had stopped hours ago. She looked at Sam with open distrust, and Bobby often wondered what she saw when she looked at him.
At the end of several more rounds of pacing, Sam stood in the small hospital room, starring at his brother. He felt so many different emotions swirling in his gut: fear, disgust, anxiety, and lust. Dean lay so still and exceptionally pale that Sam couldn't stop the want churning up in his belly. He lusted after the vulnerability being displayed. Stop it! That's your brother, for fuck's sake!
Bobby continued to glance back at the tall Winchester every few minutes, completely creeped out by the now vacant gaze locked on Dean. Sam was aware of Bobby's looks and he had to remind himself that he was in this room to act as a distraught friend, not leer like a rapist getting a second helping. He giggled at his own lewd thought.
The youngest felt pulled between his very different needs and wants. The part that was still truly Sammy wanted to scream and cry for Dean to wake up and forgive him. To nurture his brother and promise to never hurt him again. Beg to be saved. The darker, more hidden part wanted to slash the old man's throat and drag Dean from the safety of the hospital.
He began to fantasize about tearing out the vent and IVs, ripping away bandages, destroying stitches in already damaged flesh. This part of Sam didn't want to be saved; he felt as if he had been rejuvenated. He didn't really care about Dean himself, only about forcing pain and using up the beautiful face and body that his brother had been blessed with. And Bobby was just an annoyance that had to go, like the little bug that he was.
SPN * SPN * SPN
Bobby was aware of Sam's breathing becoming more erratic and the sound of his teeth grinding. He was standing near the foot of the bed, starring at Dean. Bobby could only think of the wolf in fairytales, the one that liked to rip its victims apart. He shivered at the look of pure desire in Sam's darkened eyes. He feared that whatever malevolence had taken up residency in Sam was rising to the surface again, and Bobby knew that he couldn't stop him and that Dean could not survive another attack.
Cheri had stopped being cordial several hours ago, and she looked at Sam with distrust and barely concealed revulsion. She had seen him starring at Dean; she had seen that same wickedness burning in many other men's eyes, the whole while they promised that they'd never hurt their loved ones again. She didn't believe Sam to be a friend, at least not anymore; he'd crossed that line. Her face told Bobby that the younger man was not welcome and that she wanted him gone. Bobby was beginning to agree with her sentiments wholeheartedly.
SPN * SPN * SPN
Dr. Bourke had listened intently to her head nurse. Cheri was good at reading people, and the fact that she was that against the young man with Bobby Singer told the doctor all she needed to know. As she headed towards Dean's room, she heard hushed angry voices that she immediately recognized as Bobby's and Sam's. She slowed her approach and strained to hear them.
"Sam, you're freaking everyone out, including me!" Bobby's voice was low and gruff. "And what would you like me to do to make them all like me?" Sam hissed. "Stop leering at your damn brother, for starters!" Ah, so that's the connection between them. "I'm not leering, I'm waiting for him to wake up, same as you," Sam shot back. "No, you're not. You keep looking at him like you want to jump him right here!"
Dr. Bourke was startled by Sam's bark of laughter. "I have more control than that. I'd at least wait till it was dark out and you went home." "You're sick, Sam. I want to help you, but you aren't making it easy with all these damn mood swings!" Bobby retorted. "What the fuck are you talking about, old man?" came the dangerous reply.
She heard the hesitation in Bobby's next statement. "One minute you're using the puppy dog eyes and spouting about wanting to make amends, and the next you're sizing him up like a main dish. That is what I'm talking about, you little shit."
Before any more words could be thrown around, a small whine drifted through the room. Dr. Bourke could hear the fear and pain in the sound; she'd spent hours listening to it the night before. The monitors began to give alerts that Dean was not only awake, but terrified. She entered the room to hear Bobby's panicked cry of "Dean!"
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Reality was coming back to Dean with such force that he couldn't stop the whimpers from escaping his throat. He felt the pain of his body throbbing and the memory of Sam's hands on him was overwhelming.
A small voice in the back of his mind told him it was okay to be afraid and that it wasn't weak to admit that he was in pain or afraid. The more dominant part of him tried to snuff out the logic and tell himself that what his brother did was not a big deal. Feeling the restraints around his wrists and ankles brought the fear front and center.
He wasn't sure where he was, only that he hurt and that he couldn't move. His eyelids felt glued shut and there was something sticking in his throat. Whimpers turned into a whine full of pain and desperation. He heard Bobby's voice calling his name, and his mind rushed faster towards consciousness. He felt hands on him, and all he could think of was Sam and fear and that he had to get away.
TBC...
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