so, new chappy...hope everyone is enjoying the story so far!! thanks for all the awesome reviews!! let me know what you think so far, i just love to know if i am getting it right!! bambers;)
Chapter Seven
A pain-filled groan escaped Sam's lips as he tried to open his eyes. One of them was totally swollen shut, and the other he could only manage to open halfway before the pain it caused forced him to close it again. With them closed, he listened, trying to determine where he was and also why he was in so much pain. Through the haze of pain and ringing in his ears, he faintly heard a steady beeping noise, and wondered momentarily what it might be. Realization slowly dawned on him that it was the sound of a heart monitor, and that he was in a hospital.
Panic gripped hold of him as he desperately tried to recall what had happened, but his mind was so muddled that he couldn't think clearly. The last thing he remembered was that Dean had gone out for a drink and after that everything seemed to be one big blur.
He tried to call out to Dean, but something was keeping him from speaking. Shifting his throbbing head slightly to the side, he squinted at the tube that ran from his mouth to an oxygen machine, and panicking, he started to fight against it.
"Relax," an older woman in a nurse's uniform ordered as she placed a gentle but firm hand against Sam's shoulder. "You're in the hospital, do you understand that?" When she saw Sam nod, she continued, "You were brought in here unconscious five days ago."
Sam's brows furrowed in confusion, not understanding what had happened or why he was there. Again he tried to fight against the tube to speak, needing to know where Dean was, but nothing came out.
"Someone beat you up really bad, an' pretty much left you for dead," the nurse with graying chestnut-colored hair and kindly brown eyes said in answer to one of Sam's unasked questions. "Lucky for you that a young woman found you and called an ambulance or you might not be here right now."
Sam gestured toward the tube in his mouth, hoping that she would understand that he needed it removed so he could find Dean.
She smiled and gave a quick nod. "I'll go and find a doctor to remove that, okay?" The nurse left the room, and returned shortly with a doctor.
"Hi, my name is Doctor Marshal, and I've been overseeing your care since you came into the ER." The middle-aged male doctor glanced over Sam's chart, and then looked to Sam. "Son, I'm going to remove your intubation tube now," he said, placing the chart down. "When I tell you to, I want you to take the deepest breath possible and then blow out, like if you were blowing out the candles on a birthday cake. Understand?"
Sam nodded in response. The nurse turned off the oxygen machine, and unhooked the tube leading to Sam's mouth as the doctor moved to stand beside Sam. The nurse headed to the other side of the bed and prepared the suction equipment. After checking to make sure Sam was breathing on his own, the doctor began to remove the tube while the nurse suctioned out any secretions.
"Okay, need for you to take a deep breath and blow out for me now." Sam breathed in deeply and then blew hard against the tube, gaging as he felt it slide up from the inside of his throat. "Just once more an' it'll be out."
Again Sam did as the doctor had asked, coughing hard as the tube slid out of his mouth, and continued to cough afterwards. The doctor grabbed the stethoscope from around his neck and evaluated Sam's airway, making sure there were no obstructions and smiled, seeming satisfied with what he heard.
"Dean," Sam said in a hoarse whisper, and then coughed again.
"Try not to talk, Son, you could damage your vocal cords," Doctor Marshal said as he examined Sam.
"Dean," Sam said again in a breathless whisper, ignoring the doctor. "Wh-ere's Dean?"
Doctor Marshal looked to the nurse for an answer to Sam's question, and she gave a slight shrug in response.
"We found your cell phone and tried calling your Father and Dean," the nurse said in a low comforting voice, "but we weren't able to get a hold of either of them. We did however get a hold of your Uncle." She smiled reassuringly at Sam. "He just left a little while ago to get some rest and said he would be back in about an hour or so."
"Uncle?" Sam whispered, narrowing his one good eye on her in confusion.
"Your Uncle Bobby," the nurse quickly supplied. "When he found out you were in the hospital he came right away."
If Bobby had come to the hospital instead of Dean there had to be something wrong with his brother. Dean would never have left Sam alone otherwise. His brother had spent his whole life protecting Sam, and Sam knew in his heart that something had to be terribly wrong if Dean wasn't there.
"Gotta get outta here . . . have to find Dean." Sam threw back the blankets, and tried to get out of bed only to fall backwards against the pillow, his head spinning and throbbing so viciously he thought he might throw up.
"Listen, son, you're in no condition to go anywhere," Doctor Marshal said as he lightly pressed down against Sam's abdomen. "You're recovering from surgery and have been in a coma for the past five days. You really need to rest and regain your strength."
"Surgery?" Sam winced, jerking involuntarily to the side as the doctor continued to poke and prod at him. Drawing in slow shaky breaths, Sam squinched his eyes trying to quell the violent churning in his stomach.
"When you came into the hospital you had some internal injuries and bleeding. We were able to repair the damage, but a day after the first operation there were complications." Doctor Marshal drew in a breath, slowly released it, and then continued, "Your spleen ruptured and we were forced to perform emergency surgery to remove it."
Sam vaguely heard all the man had to say, his mind wandering back and forth from all that was wrong with him to Dean. He was certain there was something he was forgetting, something important and yet he just couldn't wrap his mind around it.
The doctor took the penlight out of his pocket and wave it front of Sam's right eye. Then he carefully pried open Sam's left eye and did the same thing before grabbing the medical chart to jot down his assessment of Sam's overall condition.
"You also sustain a moderate concussion which may cause some dizziness, nausea, blurred vision, confusion, possible memory loss of events that happened before the injury occurred — "
"Huh . . . memory loss?" Sam whispered, now beginning to understand why his mind seemed so out of focus.
"Sometimes with a moderate concussion temporary memory loss occurs."
"When does it come back?" Sam asked in urgent desperation, sure the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the concussion he had. "Need it back now."
"It's really hard to predict, son, sometimes it comes back quickly and other times it takes a while. Do you have any other questions for me?" Doctor Marshal asked as he finished going over Sam's chart, and returned it to the holder at the end of the bed. When Sam gave a curt shake of his head, the Doctor continued, "Alright then, I'll be back to check in on you later. If you need anything the call button is right there," he gestured to the remote on the bedside table, "just push the button for the nurse's station and Nurse Anderson will assist you."
Sam gave a nod, already making plans to leave as soon as both the doctor and nurse were gone. If he was in the hospital because someone had beaten him up so severely that he'd been in a coma for five days, Dean could be badly injured if not already dead, and Sam didn't even want to consider that later of the two. No matter what kind of condition he was in physically, he wasn't about to lay around and wait until he felt better to try and help his brother.
He waited all of two minutes after the doctor and nurse left the room before he threw back the blankets again, and very carefully sat up. Taking slow deep breaths, he closed his one good eye, and mentally tried to quell the dizziness wracking his mind. His stomach heaved violently, bile rising in his throat, and before he could even try to prevent it from happening, he threw up all over himself.
After taking a few moments to regain whatever composure he had left, Sam carefully removed the IV in his arm and then slowly made his way to his feet. Grabbing onto the IV pole, he tried to steady himself as everything shifted in and out of focus. With body trembling, he made his way across the hospital room, almost falling over twice before he finally found his clothes.
As he took off his hospital gown, his shaky breath caught in his throat as he noticed all the bruises and bandages covering his lean muscular body, and again thought of Dean. His heart clenched painfully fearing that he might already be too late to save his brother. If someone had beaten him this badly, then where was Dean? Why hadn't he been there as well when the girl had found Sam and had called for an ambulance?
It just didn't make any sense to Sam, unless someone had taken his brother. As he eased an arm through the sleeve of his flannel shirt, his thoughts strayed to his last clear memory before he'd been attacked. Dean had gone out for a drink, and Sam had stayed at the motel to do some research. The only logical explaination for why they wouldn't have been together when Sam was beaten up was if he'd gone looking for Dean, and someone or something attacked him. If I went looking for him, he must've been missing or something took him. But why would someone want to take him?
Sam finished dressing, and leaning heavily on the IV pole he trudged to the door, opened it and headed out into the hallway, leaving the IV pole behind. Using the wall for support, he slowly made his way down the long corridor. At the nurse's station, he waited until no one was looking in his direction, and then slipped by them, heading straight toward the elevator.
When the doors slid open, he stepped inside the elevator followed by two rough-looking, bald headed men. Sam moved toward the back of the elevator and gripped onto the handrail to hold himself upright, already drained of all his strength. Closing his good eye, he listened as one of the bald headed men talked to someone on his cell phone, and waited for the doors to slide open once again.
"Yeah, it's me," the man said in a deep gruff voice, "got a problem." he hesitated, listening to whomever was on the other end of the line. "No, things haven't gone as expected . . . ."
Without opening his eyes, Sam could feel the weight of the man's stare on him, and lowered his head, not wanting the man to think he was listening in on his private conversation.
Yeah, right now," the man responded to the person he was talking to on the phone. "I thought so . . . yeah, just like you said . . . I dunno . . . would've thought so . . . yeah, really bad."
A strange uneasy feeling overwhelmed Sam as he continued to listen, although he couldn't make heads or tails out of the conversation.
"Alright, we can do that . . . no, it definitely won't be a problem . . . uh huh . . . where should we go?"
Sam opened his good eye a crack, and watched the exchange of expressions between the two men. Although the one man couldn't hear the conversation going on from the other end of the line, he seemed to understand it just by what he'd heard, and gave a quick nod to his friend.
"You'll meet us there later?"
The man glanced at Sam again, his gaze turning menacing as he noticed that Sam was watching him. Sam quickly looked away, in no condition to fight with the man or his friend.
"Just have them waiting outside, we'll be out in a few moments . . . yeah, right here . . . yes, Father, I understand . . . no, we won't . . . right, just like the other . . . yeah, pretty broken, should be easy to finish off . . . we'll be waiting for you."
The man hung up his cell phone and returned it to the pocket of his black leather jacket. "Just like the other," he said to his friend who nodded in understanding.
"Father is going to meet us there?"
The doors of the elevator slid open, and both men stepped out of it before Sam could hear the man's response. They casually headed for the entrance of the hospital, leaving Sam behind, and he was thankful for it. Something about them and the whole conversation he'd overheard set off clear warning bells inside his head.
Once again using the wall for support, he trudged to the entrance of the building. He waited there for a few minutes, watching the men get into a dark blue car and drive away before he stepped out of the building. It was already dark outside and as he glanced at the emergency parking area he noticed that it was only half-full. There was only one other person, standing outside of the hospital, and Sam gazed in her direction briefly before returning his attention to locating the Impala.
Sam glanced around for a few moments before he realized that he didn't know where Dean's car was. In his rush to get out of the hospital to begin searching for his brother, he'd totally forgotten he didn't have a vehicle. Dean had taken it when he'd gone out for a drink.
Another wave of dizziness washed over him as he heard a noise behind him, and turned his head too quickly to see what it was. A girl with short raven black hair and deep blue eyes, caught a hold of him before he crashed to the ground in a heap.
"Need me to help you back inside," she asked, concernedly. "You don't look very good at all. Kinda weird that they released you." She smiled at him, eyes rounding with sympathy when Sam shook his head in response to her question. "Hate to have to say this, but it looks like your face went through a meat grinder. Are you sure I can't take you back inside?"
"Naw, I'm good," Sam said in a hoarse scratchy whisper as he wiped away the sweat beading on his brow. "Was just lookin' for my car, and realized I don't own a car."
She chuckled. "Must of knocked your head pretty damn hard if you forgot you don't own a car."
He tried to laugh, but lost his balance again, and felt her slip her arm around his waist to get a firmer hold on him. "Thanks," he muttered weakly as he leaned into her for support.
"My name is Morning Dawn, but most people just call me Dawn."
"I'm Sam."
"Well, Sam, if I can't persuade you to go back inside where you belong, how about I give you a lift to your house?" she asked, with a soft winsome smile. "Can't let you just wander around in your condition."
"Are you sure?" Sam replied, glad for the offer as he wasn't sure how he was going to get back to the motel, much less how he was going to start his search for Dean. "I mean if it's too much of a problem, I could call for a cab," he added, although he was pretty sure he didn't have enough money in his wallet to pay for one.
"Well," Dawn hesitated for a moment as if she now wasn't certain it was such a good idea to pick up a virtual stranger, but then pushed onward, "my Father would probably kill me if he knew I was picking up strange men in parking lots. But truthfully, if you tried anything funny I could probably take ya right about now."
"Look that bad, do I?"
"Actually worse than bad," she chuckled, "in fact, I've seen people who were in car wrecks who look better than you look at the moment."
"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence." Sam winced, involuntarily jerking to the side as her grip around his waist tightened slightly. "Guess askin' ya for your phone number would be out of the question then." He tried to smile, but it turned out more like a grimace.
"Oh, I dunno, bet there is quite a handsome face under all those hideous bruises." She laughed again as he narrowed his one good eye on her.
"Thanks, feelin so much better hearin' that."
"Come on, Sam," she gestured toward the side parking lot, "let's get you home before you pass out, cause I may look strong, but there's no way I could hold you up if you decided to do a nose dive on me."
Sam leaned against her, and she helped him around the building to where she'd parked her vehicle. Several times he had to stop and catch his breath before continuing onward. By the time they'd reached the parking area his body was trembling so badly from exertion, Dawn had to wrap both arms around him just to keep him standing upright.
"We're almost there, Sam. Sure you don't want to go back inside the hospital?" she asked again, glancing back in the direction of the building they'd just walked away from. "I mean, you really don't look good."
"M'okay . . . jus' need ta s-sit down fer a moment."
"My van's right there," she nudged her head toward the vehicle that was parked furthest away from the hospital. "You can rest once we get you inside."
As they drew closer to the van, Sam heard the back doors of the van creak open, and watched as four bald-headed men hurried out of the back of the vehicle, and rushed toward him. It took several moments for his clouded mind to realize what they were about to do. Once realization struck, he tried desperately to break free of Dawn's grip on him, but was too weak to manage it.
The four men grabbed a hold of him by the arms, one of them punching him squarely in the stomach as he squirmed to break free, instantly putting an end to his fight. Breathing hard against the burning pain inside his stomach, he fought against the bile rising in his throat, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing him throw up all over himself.
Swallowing hard against the pain, he looked to Dawn, who almost looked regretful for her part in abducting him, and muttered, "W-why?"
"Because you wouldn't go back inside," she replied, tears welling in her eyes. "If you had just stayed where Father had wanted you, you would've been fine. I tried to get you to go back inside, but you wouldn't listen. You should have listened. Why the hell didn't you listen? Now one of you has to die."
"Dawn." One of the men gave her a stern look of warning, and shook his head as his grip tightened around Sam's arm.
"M-my brother?" Sam questioned, horrible understanding finally dawning on him. "Y-you've got my brother."
"No," the man who had spoken before quickly corrected. "We have both of you." An ominous laugh escapes his thin pale lips as he added, "An' it should be pretty damn interesting to see which one of you the Father decides to keep."
Dawn stepped forward, withdrew a syringe from the pocket of her coat. Seeing the needle, Sam redoubled his efforts to break free, to no avail. He just didn't have the strength to fight them all off of him.
"Please don't do this, Dawn . . . p-please, I'm beggin' you."
She jabbed the needle into Sam arm, and he let out a low hiss as he felt the sedative being squeezed into his veins. Dawn leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Sorry, Sam, but the Father commands it, and I cannot disobey him. If it makes you feel any better, I hope the Father chooses you."
"D-doesn't . . . It's d-doesn't make me . . . ." too weak to fight off the affects of the sedative, Sam's voice trailed off as he rapidly lost consciousness.