When The Past Comes Back To Haunt You.
Summary. . . . . . . . . What if the rabbit's foot wasn't the only thing taken from John's Storage unit? What if something that haunted Sam so long ago was taken also? Something with a lust for revenge, and a need to finish what he started all those years ago. An AU sequel to The Nutcracker.
Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only borrowing from the genius that is Kripke.
A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . Huge thanks to everyone who read, and to those who reviewed, the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one just as much. Peanut x
His hand batted weakly at the offensive smell that assaulted his nose. It took him a while, his mind a jumbled mess, but eventually he realized just what it was, a smell he'd had forced upon himself numerous times in his line of work, ammonia. He groaned as the smell burned his nostrils slightly, and turned his stomach, his hand batting even harder at the limb that held the smell there. "I'm 'wake. Leave 'lone Sammy." He slurred, as his mind tried to remember how it was he had passed out in the first place, his body shooting up from the floor, as remembrance came, another groan falling from his lips as pain assaulted him, his brother's name once more falling from his lips; this time with a severe sense of urgency and fear.
"Sammy!" He grasped at the hand that held the smelling salts, and willed his uncooperative eyes to open. "Sammy! Answer me god damn it!" He cried, his fear increasing when no reply was forthcoming. With effort he forced open his lids, groaning again as the light assaulted his eyes, and the world tilted and swirled, his stomach pitching and rolling, bile rising. He leaned to one side and expelled the vile liquid into a bin that seemed to appear out of nowhere, until there was nothing left but dry heaves. He flinched as a cool wash cloth was placed upon his nape, and a water bottle thrust into his hand, its top already removed, allowing him to swill his rancid mouth clear. He drank a few sips, testing to see if the liquid would stay put, or quickly reappear, drinking more when it stayed inside, all be it sitting heavily.
He turned to the man that still held the washcloth against his neck, once he had finished; his eyes fearful and moist. "Bobby?" He questioned, not needing to say anymore, knowing instinctively that the man would understand.
"He's alive, Son; Sam's alive."
He wanted to ask more, wanted to make his way over to his sibling, but there was something else he needed to know first. "And the Nutcracker?"
"Dead."
"You're sure?"
"Yep, you shot that nutjob straight through its blackened heart. We'll still need to salt and burn its ass, but its bond to Sam is broken. It's over Dean, it's finally over."
"Good, good, get me up will ya, I need to see Sammy." He held out his hand to the older man, only to sit and wonder as no help was offered. "Bobby? What's going on? Is there something wrong with Sam? You said he was alive right, you didn't lie did you?"
"No, Dean, no. He's alive, but it's not good. He needs a hospital; he needs better treatment than we can give him."
"Help me up. I need to see him." Dean ground out, already pushing himself up on unsteady arms.
Every bone in his body ached as he limped his way over to his sibling's side, the hard motel mattress that Sam lay upon seeming like the softest thing in the world to him as he sat himself down at his brother's side. Dismay replaced his fear as he looked upon Sam's battered frame. Fever ravaged his body, fever Dean could feel burning through his own clothing; new scars crisscrossed angrily over old; the weight he had lost evident; bruises from the Nutcrackers mistreatment showing starkly against skin that was far too pale, but it was another bruise that caught Dean's eye, and had confused eyes turning Bobby's way once more.
Bobby spoke before Dean could even get his question out, knowing immediately what it was that troubled the younger hunter so. "We ran out of time Dean. I knew we were close, but the minute you shot him, I tried the potion anyway, but it didn't work."
"How long was he under?"
"Close to seven minutes all told. It took three tries with the defib, and me pounding on his chest to get him back. The liquid in the first potion would have saved his brain for the first five, but he was still under for close to two. Dean you know the risks, this is why he needs the hospital, they can help him."
"Can they Bobby? You know as well as I do that if brain damage has occurred there's nothing they can do, it's irreversible. And what would we tell them about the rest of him, the scars, the carvings. No, we get him somewhere safe, somewhere away from here. We need to go, someone's bound to have heard that shot; hell it's a wonder that some hooker looking for a room by the hour hasn't stumbled across the dead body in reception yet. Help me get him to the Impala, there's a resort with remote cabins about thirty minutes away, we'll hole up there. I'll take Sam, whilst you get whatever you think we might need."
Bobby had done what Dean asked, gone along with his plan reluctantly. He'd found it easier to steal an ambulance, stripping it of all he thought they would need, rather than risking a robbery from a highly secure hospital. He'd used the drive back to call in a favor from an old friend, a retired medical pathologist, to garner more information on what they needed to do, and just what the worst case scenario could be, not liking what he heard; unwilling to believe it could happen, swearing to a God he didn't believe in that it wouldn't, it couldn't.
They'd been holed up in the remote cabin ever since, seventy two hours of constant caring of the youngest Winchester, machines beeping and whirling, junk food and bad cups of coffee, and little more that twelve hours sleep between him and Dean; waiting for Sam to show signs of waking; waiting and hoping that when he did, no damage would have been done. His friend had said it would take a while, that Sam's body would decide when it wanted to wake up, that it was just preserving itself, but still it didn't make the wait any easier, and with each minute that passed, the two older men couldn't help but think the worst.
Bobby noticed it first, the subtle change in Sam's breathing, so small that to anyone else it would have been unnoticeable, but they had been watching his every move, waiting for just this sign. He roused Dean, who had been dozing at his Brothers side, and pointed to where Sam was beginning to move. Dean instantly took up Sam's hand in one of his own, his free hand carding through his sibling's sweat soaked hair, words of encouragement spilling from his lips.
"C'mon Sammy, that's enough sleeping for now, it's time to wake up. C'mon Brother, I need to make sure you're okay."
It took massive amounts of effort, and a lot of pain filled groaning, but eventually Sam complied; confused and glassy brown orbs eventually showing between half open lids, roaming aimlessly around the room, before finding the one it was looking for.
"Hey Sammy." Dean spoke, his emotions threatening to overflow.
Sam tried to respond, tried to form the words he wanted to say, but speaking required effort, and he just felt too weak, settling instead for a gentle squeeze of Dean's hand. Dean felt it, but it wasn't enough, he needed to know if there was any damage, needed to know that all of Sam came back.
"Sammy, I know it's hard, I know you want to rest again, and you can soon, but I have to ask you some questions first, okay?" At feeling Sam squeeze his hand again, and attempt a nod, Dean carried on. "Do you know your name?"
"S. . . . . . . S. . . . . . .Sam. . . . . . . Winchester."
"Do you remember what year it is?"
"Two. . . . . . seven." Sam slurred in reply, his eyes beginning to close once more.
"That's good enough Sammy. Hey, hey stay awake now, just a little bit longer." Dean urged, adding once Sam's eyes had popped open once more. "Do you remember what happened?"
Sam's eyes left his Brother's at the question, staring instead of into space as though recalling. Eventually he nodded. "Nut. . . . . . . . . . cracker." He managed to answer.
"That's good Sammy, that's good, you can sleep now, we'll talk more later." He watched as Sam succumbed to slumber once more, before turning Bobby's way, his eyes shining. "That was good right; he knew all the answers, that was good right."
Bobby didn't want to encourage the older brother, but Dean's happiness was catching and he found he couldn't help himself. "That was good Dean, that was good." He watched as Dean turned back to his Brother, and prayed his response was right. It did look good though, and maybe for once the Winchester luck would hold, they'd just have to wait and see.
To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . .
A.N. . . . . . . . As always thanks for taking time out to read this chapter, and this story. Will be back soon with more. Peanut x