Author's Note: Woo-hoo! We reached Chapter Ten! Thanks a lot for all the reviews. You guys are the best readers in FanFiction history :D
Last Time...
After an all-too-harsh and undeserved punishment, Angel brings Sam back to Dean, bloody and unconscious.
You may now return to your regularly scheduled program (:
-Chapter Ten:
It was the deep red blood seeping through the crisp white sheet Sam was wrapped in that snapped Dean out of his momentary shock. He shook his head, trying to clear in and dropped to his knees next to Sam. He tapped the side of his face, trying to wake him. Sam just laid there, still and unresponsive. With his hand shaking, Dean pressed his pointer and his middle finger to Sam's neck. Almost immediately he felt Sam's pulse pushing back and he let out a relieved sigh. But the next thing Dean noticed was the amount of heat generating from Sam's body. His fever was higher, that was obvious; but how high? Pushing that thought to the side for a moment, Dean grabbed the top of the sheet and mentally prepared himself. He wasn't sure what was bleeding so much from Sam, but he had to know. After two deep breaths, Dean tugged the sheet back and instantly felt his mouth drop. All over Sam's midsection were long, soon-to-be-swollen cuts.
"Oh God," Dean whispered, opening the other side of the sheet.
Sam hadn't moved a muscle yet. He laid the same way: flat on his back, his head dropped to the left, facing the wall. His hair was beginning to become damp from the sweat on his forehead. Small drops of blood were on the side of his face. His mouth was open slightly as his chest rose and dropped in an uneven, labored pattern. He still had his color for the most part, though. Which is the only good sign Dean seen.
Controlling the anger he felt for the Adlets, Dean thought quickly. But what could he do? Sam needed a doctor; someone who knew that they were doing and what it would take for him to get better. Dean wasn't a doctor. But he did have common sense, so he used that.
Dean searched for anything in his reach. Turning around, he spotted the half drunken bottle of water that he was trying to save for later. Leaning backwards, he grabbed the water and placed in front of him. He looked at Sam carefully, planning his next move. After a moment of thought, Dean leaned over Sam and grabbed under his arms, lifting him. Sam didn't even make a sound was he was brought into Dean's hold. With Sam secure in his arms, Dean tugged the sheet from under him.
Once the sheet was out of the way, Dean let Sam back down on the floor. Dean tossed the sheet to the side and grabbed the bottle of water. He twisted off the cap and drizzled the water onto Sam's stomach. Instantly, Sam's body jerked upward and he let out a barely audible moan. His breathing quickened a tad, but it slowed just a second later.
"I'm sorry, Sam; but I gotta clean these and this is the only way I can," Dean apologized, continuing to pour the water. From that point, Sam was still again, not even reacting to the water stinging his stomach. Once the bottle was empty, Dean grabbed the blanket again and folded it a few times. Once it was thick enough, Dean placed it to Sam's stomach and pressed, hoping to stop the bleeding.
Sam's face scrunched in pain, but he didn't wake or make a sound. Regretfully, Dean looked at Sam and shook his head.
"I'm sorry," Dean says again, but keeps even pressure on the wounds.
After a minute or so, Dean lightened up on the pressure and removed the sheet. He looked down at the cuts. They were red and just from the looks of them: they hurt like hell. Some of them were closed, more bruise-like than anything. Those didn't look too bad. But the ones that were open would send a shiver down your spine. Letting out a deep breath, Dean took off his jacket and wrapped it around Sam's shoulders.
Dean took hold of Sam once more and brought them both near the wall, where they were before. Dean sat with his back against the wall and Sam's head in his lap. Growing impatient, Dean tapped the side of his face again.
"Sam, wake up," he called.
Nothing, not at first. But after a moment or two, Dean could see Sam's eyes moving under his closed eyelids. Anxiously, Dean tapped his hand against Sam's cheek again.
"C'mon, Sammy. Open your eyes, bro."
Sam made a choking sound and pushed his head onto Dean's thigh. Again, Dean tapped the side of his face; this time a little harder.
"Sam," he cooed.
Tilting his head, Sam's eyes fluttered open a little. He squinted at the light and groaned at the sudden pain he felt. Dean put his hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. Unfocused but open, Sam's eyes looked up at him with more confusion that anything.
"Hey kid," Dean says with a relieved smile. "You scared me."
Sam's eyes roamed around the room aimlessly. Frowning, Dean snapped his fingers. Lazily, Sam looked over in his direction.
"Sam, can you hear me?" Dean asked, his voice full of question.
Almost unnoticeably, Sam nodded. "Yea'"
Dean shook his head and sighed.
"Wha' hap'ened?" Sam asked, closing and opening his eyes slowly, trying to get the black dots from swarming around.
"I was gonna ask you the same thing."
Sam took in a deep breath but instantly regretted when he felt the gashes on his stomach expand and send a wave of pain up and down his body. Realizing his brother's pain, Dean rubs his arm and shushes him.
"Just breathe, Sam," Dean coaches. "The pain will go away. Just calm down."
And just as Dean promised, within seconds, they pain subsided but didn't disappear. But at least it was bearable
Dean raised an eyebrow.
"Better?"
Sam nodded softly.
Getting serious, Dean cleared his throat. "Angel did this?"
For a second, Sam thought. Everything was coming back to him now. "Yeah... he had a whip."
Dean nodded. "What'd you tell him?"
"Nothing..."
Dean blinked. "Then what he hit you for?"
Sam's eyes were getting heavy. He tried to fight away the sleepiness. "He thought I was lying," Sam answers in a soft voice.
Dean cursed just as a frightening thought crossed his mind. When Sam was first taken away, Dean had heard everything, like there was huge stereos in the room. He heard Sam yelling, telling them that he didn't know anything. And just when Dean thought he'd have to cut off his ears so he wouldn't have to hear anything anymore, it stopped. Then the whole room was quiet. Letting his eyes fall back on his brother, Dean noticed the spaced-out look in his eyes. He shook Sam's shoulder.
"Sam," he says with caution. "focus, okay? Did they bite you?"
Sam was quiet.
Dean shook his shoulder. "Sam, please. This is important. Did they bite you?" Dean repeated.
Slowly, Sam shook his head. "No..."
Dean let out a sigh of relief. They would be the last thing they needed.
Sam squeezed his eyes shut and forced them to open. Dean noticed the increased speed of his breathing and got alarmed.
"Sam?"
Sam turned his head on Dean's leg. He let out a breath and shivered.
"I feel f'nny," he mumbled, letting his eyes fall closed.
Dean shook him. "Hey, whoa, Sam," Dean calls. "You can't go to sleep now, okay?"
Reluctantly, Sam pulled his eyes back open.
Keeping the conversation going, Dean moved on to the next subject. He tapped Sam's shoulder. "Hey, you hear what Angel said?"
Looking up at Dean sleepily, Sam shook his head.
"They know Dad's name, man."
Sam looked away for a second. "So wh't? They knew our name, too-"
Dean shook his head. "Yeah but he said that 'cause we're Dad's kids, that we're a part of something?"
"Someth'n good or someth'n bad..."
Dean shrugs. "Bad, apparently."
They were both silent for a second.
"Dad wouldn't hurt us..." Sam reasons.
Rolling his eyes, Dean says, "Yeah, but they will," Dean answered with a rolling of his eyes. "Besides, Dad's not exactly an open book, Sam. He maybe hunting these things or know something about them that we don't. What if they're targeting us for something he did?"
Sam was quiet.
Dean looked down to see that his eyes had closed again. Dean shook his shoulder.
"Sam."
Nothing. His eyes remained closed, his breathing still uneven.
Again, Dean shook him.
"Sam, wake up."
Dean waited impatiently for a few seconds and Sam didn't show any signs of waking up soon.
Feeling defeated, Dean gently slammed the back of his head against the brick wall and sighed.
"Damn it, Sam."
Shorter than usual; I know. Sorry. But tell me what'cha think, anyway?
*Announcer's Voice* On Next Week's Episode: The Adlets plan a new way to get Sam and Dean to talk.
Don't be shy; I don't bite!
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