Of Obligations and Desperation
Chapter 3
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Author's notes: Thanks so much for all your reviews my darlings and I do intend to reply. Really appreciated, especially as most of you know how frustratingly insecure I am about my stories. Whilst we're on the subject there's an author new to the fandom that I think all Limp Sam girls should be aware of: ChristianGateFan has recently started posting an incredible story involving lots of tortured, Limp Sam, and I have to say that I'm quite jealous at just how much talent this kid has. It's really quite superb and brilliantly written and I personally feel the boys are characterised just right. So go give it a shot...and leave a review! It's called Don't Let Go. And trust me when I say that you won't be disappointed for the effort.
On with the story...
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Dean glared at the doctor, blood boiling with rage.
"You can't do that!" He snapped, but the physician just smiled in a sad kind of way that made Dean want to rip his face right off.
"I'm afraid I can." Dr Velosa was a tall dark middle aged Portuguese guy with kind eyes, thick rimmed glasses, and seemed sympathetic enough but no way was he budging on this. "Sam's suicide attempt was particularly brutal. He cut open his wrists and left a ten inch long gash in each arm, then there's the amount of alcohol in his system which was dangerous enough. I'm sorry Mr Collins, but he can't leave here until he's had a full psychiatric evaluation." The doc studied Dean closely, noting his shocked, pale complexion and softened his approach. "Look, this is all for discussion at a later date and I promise you'll be involved at every stage of his treatment. But Sam has more worrying problems right now. He came through the surgery to repair the muscle damage, but that's not all he's facing."
Struggling to keep his cool – and not rip his face off - Dean took long slow deep breaths before answering.
"Can I at least see him? If he wakes up and I'm not there he'll be scared." Though the way things have been lately he might be scared anyhow.
Dr Velosa nodded, ready to concede that much. "Of course, that can only help matters. Follow me." He kept on talking quietly as they trekked from the waiting room. "Your brother needed six units of blood. I'm amazed he survived at all. The good news is there's no sign of infection…"
Dean's ears pricked up at that; good news was always followed by... "What's the bad news?"
"He was in deep shock when he came in, the blood loss was one thing but the hypothermia was pretty severe as you know," The doc held open a set of swing doors as they moved deeper into the hospital. "We're not sure how long it will be before he wakes up, and I must warn you there's a chance he won't…"
"Sam's waking up." Dean cut him off, jaw set stubbornly, daring the doc to say otherwise. "You don't know him like I do."
The doc cast him a pitying look. "Sam went into respiratory arrest not long after surgery," he stopped by a door bearing the room number 621 and turned sad brown eyes his way. "Your brother isn't fighting back," he added softly "it's as though he's given up."
Dean's eyes widened with worry. "No. He'll be fine I know it."
Dr Velosa nodded and grasped the door knob. "Just prepare yourself ok? Sam's on a ventilator and I've put him in soft restraints." He held up a hand to still the protest he could see forming on the older brother's lips. "For his own good. We don't know what his state of mind is gonna be like when - if - he wakes up. They're quite loose and he'll hardly know he's wearing them. They're mainly there to prevent any more damage to his arms, but I also have to think of the safety of my staff."
Tamping down his rage Dean nodded sharply but said nothing. He really didn't like this; his brother deserved better than to wake up in a world that had him tied down like an animal. And as for the threat of keeping him here with some shrink…no way. Not happening any time soon. Dean was already planning his younger sibling's escape; a simple plot involving a lab coat, wheelchair and some serious sweet talking.
The doc pushed the door open and stood to one side, making way for his patient's brother. All escape plans were blown away and replaced with dread as Dean's eyes fixed on the form under the blankets. Now he could see for himself just how bad things looked for Sam. The kid was ghostly pale, face sunken, lips lifeless around the vent. If it weren't for the incessant bleep of the cardiac monitor Dean could have sworn Sam was dead. Both arms were heavily bandaged, bent at a slight angle and raised up on pillows. And yeah, Dean could now see the point of the soft restraints, keeping his arms immobile at the elbows. Once he woke up…
…and he's waking up. I swear it.
…he'd have a limited range of movement, just enough to be comfortable but not enough to harm himself.
"I'll come back later after my rounds." Doc Velosa announced softly. "If you have any questions by all means get one of the night staff to page me."
"Yeah," Dean agreed absently, still reeling in shock. "Sure." He didn't hear the doc leave, his attention held solely by his sleeping brother.
Sitting down at the bedside and casting a critical eye over all the machines, Dean took a shaky breath before returning his gaze to Sam's face.
"Sammy," he whispered, watching closely for any sign of life. "Time to wake up now little bro."
Not so much as a twitch. Dean chewed on his bottom lip.
"C'mon quit kidding around! We gotta get out of here." He leaned into Sam's ear. "They planning on having you sectioned. Ya know? The whole padded cell, straight jacket and basket weavers deal."
Sam slept on, the vent hissing and clicking as it kept him breathing.
"Sammy please," Dean abandoned the gentle teasing in favour of pleading and begging. He could hear the fear in his own voice but figured it couldn't hurt to try. "You have to wake up. I know I said some stupid things, and I know I hurt you…please. Don't wanna do this alone. Can't do this without you and neither can the Impala. She seriously misses you kiddo; we both want our Sasquatch back in her passenger seat."
Running the back of a hand lightly over Sam's cheek, Dean smiled through his tears, mouth trembling ever so slightly.
"Sam, I don't know what the future holds for either of us, but I'm gonna be right here beside you, and not because Dad ordered me to." Dean dropped his gaze to Sam's injured arms. "Because I want to." He chuckled sadly. "That demon really did a number on us huh? Wish I'd known what was going through your head sooner, but I guess that was part of its plan."
He sat for hours just talking, hoping the constant drone of his voice would piss Sam off into awakening and telling him to shut up. Not that the kid would be able to talk round the vent.
Dean finally acknowledged his desperation and called Bobby Singer during a coffee run; the older hunter was on his way over with fake medical and psychiatric notes. Bobby wouldn't be the one showing up of course; one Dr Cliff Burton, Sam's personal psychiatrist, who incidentally bore an astonishing resemblance to Bobby Singer, would take Dr Velosa to one side and politely explain that his patient was off limits to the hospital psyche team. He would also explain that once Sam's physical state was much improved the kid was leaving with him, no questions asked. Dean wasn't too sure how the physician would react to being undermined and didn't much care. His main worry was how Sam was faring.
Bobby felt certain the despair demon was gone and that Sam's suicide attempt was merely the after effects, and wouldn't happen again. Dean clung on to that hope like a drowning man to a life raft, but he still had his deep seated doubts. He didn't like the idea of keeping Sam restrained, under lock and key and drugged even at Bobby's yard, and the effort involved in steering Sam clear of dangerous objects for his own safety would be exhausting.
"Don't worry little bro," he whispered, gently stroking Sam's scalp. "Bobby's got everything in hand. All ya gotta do for us now is to wake up."
But it wasn't enough. He'd badly hurt his brother and something else had to be said. With Sam unconscious it was the perfect opportunity, so he took the plunge, knowing he'd hate himself later. "I know I never say it…but I do love you Sammy. You're my little brother and I'll always love you."
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A couple of days later Dean woke up to panicked wailing and bleeping in the early hours of the morning, hands gripping the chair arms and blinking his eyes rapidly.
"Sam!"
His brother was arching off the bed, choking and gasping, arms weakly struggling against his restraints. But Dean noticed his eyes were open and rolling wildly in their sockets, face fixed in a grimace of pain and fear.
Getting in Sam's line of sight merely caused more distress and his choking grew worse.
"Sammy calm down dude," Dean gently cradled Sam's head in his hands, holding him still and smiling into wide terrified eyes. "You're on a vent. Just let it breathe for you, ok? Maybe the doc will take you off this thing now you're awake."
But the kid was terrified.
"Sam....Sammy...things aint what they were. I promise." Dean stared down at him, trying so hard to make things right, to offer hope. "It's alright little bro. M'not gonna hurt you again."
Sam gradually calmed with his brother's gentle coaxing but he still looked scared half to death, eyes darting round the room, then down at his bandaged arms strapped to the bed. Dean wiped away the tears from Sam's face when the kid once again turned his pleading gaze on him.
"You remember what happened?"
Sam nodded uncertainly, eyes filling with yet more tears.
And who can blame him?
"The despair demon got to you bro...kinda got to both of us in fact, but my despair came out as anger." Dean went back to stroking his scalp. "You tried to kill yourself, got drunk and slit your wrists wide open. We traced your cell phone signal and only just got there in time. God Sammy, I'm so sorry. Those things I said…Christ! You didn't deserve all that and I know you've been having a rough time..."
Light knocking on the door and a familiar face peered in at the brothers.
"Can I come in? Or are you two girls not finished?"
Dean grinned broadly in tired relief. "Dr Burton, good to see ya! Great timing by the way; Sammy just woke up."
"So I see." Bobby stepped into the room, his sharp gaze sweeping over Sam from head to foot. "You still feel the effects of that demon Sam? Be honest now."
Sam gave a small shake of the head, watery eyes taking in the suit and tie.
The older hunter smiled softly. The kid might be lying but only a little. "Good boy." Bobby turned to Dean. "I'm gonna find this Dr Velosa and straighten things out. I suggest you stay here with Sam."
A small whimper drew Bobby's attention back to Sam. The kid's eyes were gazing meaningfully at his restraints; it was obvious he wanted them gone.
"All in good time kid," Bobby winked. "Just play along for now ok? Sam Collins has quite a history of violent behaviour, self-harm and bi-polar affective disorder. Velosa aint gonna want you on the loose."
Sam blinked up at him in disbelief, still tugging on the arm straps.
Dean gently stilled his movements. "Stop that. You're gonna hurt yourself." He whispered softly. "Bobby's right Sam. It'll be easier springing you if your own doctor says you're a fruitcake; Doc Velosa's more likely to release you into Bobby's care that way. I already tried to persuade him you weren't insane but he wouldn't believe me, not from the way you…cut your wrists." He finished lamely and Sam winced a little.
The kid watched Dean tiredly, unable to do much else. Dean patted him on the shoulder.
"Get some sleep kiddo. Soon as you get the all clear we're heading back to Bobby's place."
Sam finally understood and gazed at his brother gratefully before his eyes slid closed, and his body relaxed into an instant slumber.
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Later that day Sam came off the vent and his throat was sore as hell, but that wasn't going to be a problem. Once Dr Burton had spoken with Dr Velosa and showed him the case notes on the history of Sam Collins, the latter decided for the sake of staff safety to sedate the patient, all the better to avoid nasty bites and foul language. Neither Sam nor Dean were too happy with that idea, but Bobby advised them suck it up. Stirring up trouble now would only make Doc Velosa suspicious, so as soon as the vent came out Sam was drugged up to the gills and put on nasal oxygen.
Dean watched over a heavily sedated Sam rather worriedly for the next week. He was still in restraints which infuriated the older brother to no end and the drugs meant the kid's breathing had slowed right down.
Bobby, AKA Doc Burton, stayed close to the boys most of the time, keeping the heat off them. In truth Bobby actually quite liked Dr Velosa; he genuinely cared for Sam's welfare as well as his team of nurses, and he was trying to do the right thing. But the guy was overworked with little sleep, so it was easy enough to keep the guy on side provided Dean kept his temper.
Sam's arms were healing slowly but surely, the surgery having done its job. The older brother kept a sharp eye on the wounds whenever the bandages were changed, insisting on staying in the room and breathing down the nurse's neck. Dean wasn't willing to let anyone near his vulnerable little brother without him or Bobby being there. And besides, the nurse had a very nice neck and her cleavage was also a fairly pleasing sight.
The following week saw the signing of Sam's release papers and the kid was gradually weaned off the sedatives. Dean couldn't help but worry at the way he was listing in the wheelchair; eyes blinking owlishly, head slumped to the side. His injured arms rested on top of a pillow spread across his legs and his body shivered with the cold the minute the outside air hit him.
"Here ya go Sammy," Dean tucked another blanket round his brother's shoulders, then placed a hand against the side of Sam's neck in support. "You with me?"
Sam squinted and blinked. "Uuuhhhuhhhh."
"That's ma boy."
It was all part of the act for Dr Velosa's benefit. Except it wasn't an act as far as poor Sam was concerned; Bobby was forced to administer one small final sedative for the journey, keeping up the pretence Sam was dangerous.
With a promise to call later that Bobby had no intention of keeping, Dr Cliff Burton and his patient disappeared off the radar for good, with Dean Collins following on behind in his own car.
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Even though Bobby kept his speed down and took it easy Sam still had a terrible journey; the left over effects of the drugs were making him nauseous and he was travel sick more than once.
"S-sorrrryyyyy B-Bobbbbbby," Sam's eyes filled with tears.
"It's ok kid," Bobby was cleaning him up for third time, Sam sitting half in, half out of the car. "Not your fault."
"Wh-wherrrre's D-Deeeeaaannn?"
"He's right behind us Sam, don't you worry none." The older hunter pointed out the Impala as it pulled up behind his rental. "Hey Dean? You sure you want Sam in your car? He's still pretty sick."
Sam heard footsteps then someone was gently grasping his chin, and a pair of anxious green eyes were peering down at him.
"Hey buddy," Dean's voice was so soft and comforting Sam wanted to bawl his eyes out. "You wanna ride with me this time?"
Sam nodded slowly, eyelids at half mast. He opened his mouth but lacked any kind of strength to speak; only a small whimper came out and Dean was wiping away his tears again.
"Ssshhh Sammy. You'll feel better soon kiddo, just give it some time."
Lifting Sam up proved worryingly easy, seeing as he'd spent the last few weeks on IV nutrients. As soon as the drugs were out of his system the older brother swore to take him to a good diner for some serious chow time. Steak, egg, mushrooms, tomatoes and fries. Sam could bitch and whine as much he liked, but he was eating every mouthful even if Dean had to spoon feed him.
Laying Sam in the passenger seat of the Impala, Dean brushed a few strands of hair out of the kid's face and smiled into sleepy eyes. He felt instantly more settled and less anxious now that his little brother was back beside him.
"You can sleep all ya want kiddo." Tucking the blanket back around him, Dean smiled at him again then gently closed the door with a soft click. An instant later he slid behind the wheel and gunned the engine. "Let's go home huh?"
Sam's head rolled towards Dean on hearing his voice, but said nothing. Just kept his eyes closed and fell into a comfortable slumber.
Strangely, Sam wasn't sick again and the remaining journey passed without a hitch.
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Epilogue coming up soon!
Special note to Jen Burch and Sendintheclowns: you really are a great couple of gals and thank you so much for your help with the Top Secret Project.