Of Werewolves And Humans

Chapter 26 ~ It'll Never Be Enough

THEN:

The Winchester tilted his head to the side, trying to steal a look at whatever had hit him. A dark mess of hair appeared in his peripheral vision and he gasped – all of a sudden breathless again.

Sam's head was resting in the curve of his neck. His mate's body covering him, holding him protectively.

Shielding him.

And that was when he felt the warm dampness and stickiness on the back of Sam's shirt against his palm. When he smelled the copper taste of blood in the air …

When he rose his limb to have a look at his in scarlet painted hand …

NOW:

„SAM!", Dean yelled, tugging frantically on the fabric of his mate's shirt. „Sammy. - Talk to me, baby ..." He panted, pushing his flat palm onto the wound.

He felt the sticky fluid welling through his fingers, the labored rise and fall of Sam's chest, tender short puffs of air against the bare skin on his neck. Panic dug its relentless claws into Dean when he wouldn't get an answer. When Sam wouldn't even stir …

„Sam – c'mon … SAM.", he muttered more urgent, trying to free himself from Sam's long arms, in the need to see his mate. „Don't you dare." The wolfman's lips quivered, his eyes teared up.

A soft gasp fell from his mate's lips and he felt the fingers beneath him twitch.

„HELP!", Dean yelled panicked. Because only now his sensed started to flood back into him, started to work more sober. And his senses told him, that he couldn't fix this, that they needed the ambulance, needed a doctor … „Damn it! I need some help here!"

Then Dean stilled, stopped to try to get Sam off of him. He wasn't supposed to move him. The bullet could possibly travel and only god knew where in his body the damn thing had stopped to bounce off his bones. The wound seemed damn close to Sam's heart and lungs … it could travel … it could've penetrated something vital.

„D'n.", came a silent plea and Sam shifted his legs, made an attempt to free his arms from underneath Dean. But it was no help – he felt too weak and his own weight and Dean's were too much.

„Don't.", Dean panted, laying his other hand flat on the small of his mate's back. „Don't move, baby. - Don't move. I got ya'."

„Sorry …", Sam blew out a short raspy breath. „'m so sorry."

A choked sound wrenched from Dean's throat as he blinked his tears away. „It's okay, Sammy. - It's going to be okay. A little patch-up and you're as good as new. - You just gotta hold on, okay? … Hold on ..."

Dean Winchester was pacing back and forth in the waiting area. Besides him, sheriff Mills and his pack was no one there. His clothes were full of dried crimson red and dirt – his heart hammering against his ribcage ever since they got there …

They had brought Sam into surgery a couple of hours ago … they had said it was touch and go, when they pulled the stretcher with his mate out of the ambulance. They had said something about rattling wet noises in his left lung before his heart went out on their way to hospital.

That he was bleeding into his lungs high likely. That there could be air gathering somewhere and that'd suppress his breathing. - And soon they had their proof as Sam had started to cough up saliva mixed with scarlet. As his heart became weaker and weaker with every passing moment …

All the way to the hospital, Dean rode in the back of the ambulance, crouched down in a corner where he wouldn't be in the way. All the way to the hospital there were these gurgling and wheezing noises when Sam tried to take a breath.

He was drowning on his own blood … they had said.

The only thing Dean was able to think off was that Sam didn't deserve this. That all of this was his fault, that he should've never left him at the Salvage, that they should've never had gone for the other pack in the first place. Sam wasn't supposed to die, Dean wasn't supposed to lose him.

They were supposed to build a cabin where they'd live a long life. Sam was supposed to go to school and learn something.

The ECG and all the other machines were peeping either too fast or too slow … but the worst had been as one of the monitors started to make these erratic sounds and then a long-drawn beep … just this and the flatline on the monitor.

He FELT his mate slipping away from him … Dean's heart skipped a few beats as one of the paramedics yelled something about hurry and cardiac arrest and tell them we're coming in.

Sam, who lay limply on the stretcher, his head lolled to the side, his eyes closed … and no sounds that he even tried to breath came anymore.

That was about two minutes before they pulled up in front of the hospitals. Two minutes in whom there were no signs of life in the human's body anymore. Two long minutes in whom he had been dead – just to come back when they intubated him and started the CPR right in the lobby in front of everyone's eyes.

And Dean just stood there … Tears running down his face, his hands shaking violently, his knees buckling. Dean had FELT that Sam was gone, that he had been DEAD. It felt like a pitch-black hole eating the younger Winchester up from the inside as the sudden lack of the presence of his mate got perceptible.

Moments later … Sam was gone. Got taken from him and vanished behind a double door he wasn't allowed to pass. The nurse had said something about that he had to wait outside. That he'd be brought into surgery. That he was in good hands.

That Dean should calm down and take a seat, since he looked like passing out any moment. His face was pale, a thin layer of sweat covered his skin.

This couldn't be true … this couldn't be happening. He couldn't lose Sam.

Dean rubbed over his face, fresh tears gleaming in his red-rimmed eyes. Unnoticed by him his father rose, giving Bobby and Ellen a look, and left.

Half an hour later he was back with Dean's duffel-bag slung over his shoulder. He laid his hand on his son's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

„Dean.", he said calmly. „You can't wait like this … - You've to get cleaned up and put on some fresh clothes, son."

Dean glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. „I can't …" He sniffed. „I can't leave Sam alone …"

John cast his look down on the floor and sighed. „You won't. - It's just for half an hour. When he's out of surgery and they get him into a room … Dean. - You can't go in there like this. Besides … you reek. - Even for humans you reek."

Dean blinked a couple of times and pulled in a deep breath through his nose. And yeah … he stunk. Then he looked down on himself, recognizing all the blood and dirt for the first time.

He then nodded and sniffed again. His father was right. When Sam'd wake up, he shouldn't reek like THAT.

„Fine. - I got your duffel.", he said, thrusting it into Dean's hand and a key into the other one. „The keys to the lockers. There are showers too …"

Dean sucked in his lower lip as he met his father's gaze and bit down on it. „Thanks.", he choked out sniffing.

„Now go.", John said with a sad smile, „I'll go and get you when he's coming out in the meantime."

Dean let the hot water soak into his skin, washing the coldness away that had taken over him ever since he had realized, that it had been Sam. Sam who had taken him down. Sam who had gotten in the way of the bullet. Sam who had saved his life.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the water wash over his face.

His last memory of Sam … so much fear in those amazingly pure hazel-eyes. Pain. Oh god … so much pain and panic from the moment on he had opened his eyes.

They hadn't dared to move him, hadn't dared to take him off of Dean until the paramedics arrived. There had been so much blood – so much of Sam's blood.

Sam muttered incoherent things into the wolfman's neck, things he didn't quite understand. Not right then at least. He felt his mate's skin become clammy, his breathing labored and then the wheezing noises started whenever he sucked in a breath.

He could tell that it was getting harder for him to stay awake, no matter how much Dean tried to keep him conscious. Sam had slipped through his fingers – just like that.

The younger Winchester swallowed around the lump in his throat and closed his eyes. Remembering Ellen above them, how she applied pressure with her hands onto Sam's oozing wound. How she was talking to Dean, trying to reassure him that it'd be fine, that the ambulance would be there in no time.

He turned the water off and held his eyes closed for a few more seconds, before he wiped over his face and opened his eyes again to face the present day and forget about the last ones …

Half an hour after Dean had returned to the waiting area, a doctor emerged in blue scrubs and white gloves from the double door behind whom Sam had disappeared hours ago.

The man looked tired and exhausted. What might have been the reason why he hadn't recognized the blood on his shoes … all over his shoes. Sam's blood all over his shoes …

Though he instantly caught Dean's gaze and wouldn't let go. Even over the distance the doctor seemed to at least to try to look reassuring.

Dean froze in his place, staring at the man, until he stood before him. That was also when the doctor's gaze dropped for a moment.

„Mister Winchester?", he asked with a frown as he looked up again.

Dean nodded, unable to say something.

„Sam is out of surgery and on the ICU for the next 72 hours.", The doctor informed him. „I don't want to lie to you … It's touch and go. - The bullet hardly missed his heart, punctured his left lung … For his time on the ICU we'll keep him on a ventilator …" He cleared his throat. „About the rest of your friend's injuries ..." He trailed off, noticing the Winchester's state just now. „… It was quite a night for all of us and … I think it'd be better when I fill you in on the rest tomorrow?" The doctor swallowed hard, well knowing about the mental stress relatives were in that kind of situations. He also knew that anything he'd tell the young man now would be lost on him anyway. So he let it go and would offer an appointment to him for the next day, when he'd be more confident that what he had to tell the man would be noticed.

Completely cool with Dean. The only thing he wanted right now was to see Sam, to be with his mate. „Yeah. - Guess that'd be okay. - Can I see him now?"

The doctor smiled sadly and gave him a short nod. „I'll call our head nurse to bring you to Samuel's room."

Dean looked back over his shoulder towards his pack and the sheriff, giving them a small smile.

Sam was alive … he made it through the surgery. He'd pick up from here and he'd improve … He'd take him back home with him in no-time.

Like promised the head nurse showed up just minutes later and led Dean Winchester onto the second floor with the ICU-Unit. She led him down a long corridor and then – finally – they stopped and she pointed at an open door.

The light in the room was dim, the blinds were down, a small light was on above the bed's headboard.

The bed itself seemed so much bigger than the figure that laid on it.

Sam was so pale – almost as white as the sheets that covered him.

Machines were placed all around him, the rhythmic whoosh of the ventilator and the beeping noises of the monitors showed how serious Sam had been hurt. How much of touch and go it was …

„Fifteen minutes.", the nurse whispered before she left Dean standing in the doorway on his own.

The younger Winchester eyed his mate. Took in the tubes and cables that went from Sam's body towards the machines around the bed.

Dean tried so bad not to cry again. - He tried. But he failed.

He ever so carefully narrowed, until he stood beside Sam, laying his hand over Sam's wich rested on the covers.

The human felt so cold. So cold.

Dean just stared at him for a long time, holding his hand gently, squeezing it softly. „I can't stay long, Sammy.", he whispered. „You're on the ICU, you know? You did quite a job over at the farm. Saving me – my ass, Sam. You could be dead, you know that? You could still be dying …" He swallowed down a sob and sniffed. „You gotta get better, you hear me? I want to take you back home in a week or two. I want you to stay with me in bed for a whole week, you hear me? I promised you that …"

Dean stared at his mate, waiting. He knew Sam was down under, that it wasn't possible for him to even hear his words. And though … somehow Sam seemed as he was just sleeping … if it wouldn't have been for the circumstances.

„It's time.", came silent voice from behind him.

Dean nodded without looking back and bowed over his mate, placing a gentle kiss on his clammy forehead. „Don't leave me, Sammy.", he whispered into his ear, closing his eyes, „You're my soul, Tiger." A single tear fell from his left eye.

The next morning dawned and Dean was in the hospital at the nurse's station and waited for them to give him the okay to visit Sam. He then sat beside the bed, watching over Sam, holding his hand, talking to him. Telling him how much he needed him, that he couldn't go like this … He talked until his voice was hoarse and his throat sore.

They let him stay with him until the late noon, when doctor Summers came for him. The doctor who had talked to him after Sam's surgery the afternoon before. Doctor Summers filled Dean in, in Sam's injuries … not just the obvious ones.

He told him about the concussion, the bruised cheekbone and cracked yaw. The rectal lacerations …

Dean didn't ask, because he knew it. Had seen it …

Seventy-four hours later, Sam got extubated and moved into a regular room. Though there was still the ECG and an oxygen-mask over his mouth and nose. And he haven't had woken up yet.

Sam remained unconscious. The doctors had explained, that it'd probably take a while until he'd wake up. That his body needed time – so would his mind.

Though, the more time passed, the more Dean lost his hope. He KNEW Sam was in there … he was able to feel him. - He just wouldn't open his eyes.

Ellen had said that sometimes people just wouldn't wake up after a trauma like this … she told him that he might had to be prepared for the worst.

But Dean didn't believe that. He KNEW Sam'd wake up. He wouldn't leave him alone. And if Sam decided to really leave … then he'd follow.

So yes. Sam would wake up … he just had to … and if he wouldn't, he'd take him home, he'd get him help and the care that he'd need if he wouldn't regain consciousness ever again.

Dean carried a coffee in one hand and a paper-bag in the other one as he entered Sam's room. He placed the things on the nightstand and gave a small smile as he glanced at the monitors and back down at Sam. The Winchester placed a gentle kiss on Sam's forehead and whispered a soft good morning into his ear, before he sat down beside him.

Sam looked way better now. He wasn't pale anymore, his breaths seemed to be stronger. Even his heart rate and blood-pressure were stable and somewhere along the standards.

Other than that he still remained asleep – dead to the world.

Dean had fallen asleep in his chair. His body hunched over, resting on the bed beside Sam, his arm and hand buried under the wolfman's chest, Dean's head resting on top of them.

Then – ever so slowly – he blinked his eyes open. A faint movement beneath his hand and another one. Like shifting fingers brushing over his cheek.

„Hey there.", a raspy voice broke the silence.

Dean's head shot up and he stared wide-awake at Sam's face.

A gentle smile tugged on the corners of the younger man's lips, his eyes on half-mast and his eyes still dull with a sparkle of life in them.

„Sammy.", Dean choked out, not sure if he was going to laugh or cry, or both. „Oh god ..." He jumped up from the chair and laid his hands on the younger man's cheeks – ever so gently. He cradled his face in his hands, brushing with his thump over the human's dry lips. Ever so softly he drew a small circle short beneath Sam's right cheek-bone with his thump. So soft and gentle as if he was going to break if he'd use more force.

Unshed tears of happiness shone in the wolfman's eyes. „How long … how long?", Dean asked huskily.

Sam swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, taking an inhale before he spoke. „Some time … didn't want to wake you ..." his last words were barely a whisper. „You looked exhaust'd."

Dean bowed further down, peppering feather light kisses all over Sam's face – just the one on his lips lingered longer.

„You thirsty?", Dean asked eagerly, trying to hold eye contact with Sam.

A short smile ghosted over Sam's face, then his eyes closed again.

Dean frowned, his smile fading slowly. A wary glance at the monitors followed. But they seemed okay … Sam seemed to be okay. The wolfman placed another tender kiss over Sam's lips.

„Love you, Sammy.", Dean whispered and sat back down into his chair, holding onto the human's right hand gingerly and pushed the call-button to inform the nurses that Sam had woken up.

It lasted almost eighteen hours until Sam's eyes opened again.

Dean sat beside him, sipping on the coffee he held in one hand and Sam's hand in the other. The moment he noticed Sam's awakening, he put the coffee aside and hovered over the the bed again, squeezing his hand gently.

„Hey there." Dean flashed him one of his most adorable smiles.

His mate didn't answer, he just smiled as he blinked his eyes open. Sam's lips moved, as he was trying to say something, but no sound came out – just a raspy noise somewhere from his throat.

„It's okay.", he said sweetly, „Don't talk."

Sam squeezed Dean's hand weakly and blinked his eyes open wider.

„You need something?", he asked.

Sam squeezed again, mouthing yes.

„Water?", Dean asked and Sam gave him a short nod.

„I'll be back in less than a minute, Sammy.", Dean said eagerly and with that he was gone, just to return in LESS than a minute again.

He held a paper-cup in his hands and a small spoon, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside Sam's hip. „The nurse said it's ice-chips for ya'."

Sam nodded.

Dean loaded one of the slippery bastards onto the plastic spoon and guided it towards Sam's lips. His mate opened up and let the cold chip slip onto his tongue.

The human closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the pillow as he sucked on the small frozen piece of water.

„Another one?", Dean asked as Sam opened his eyes again. And his mate nodded.

Sam tried to sit more upright this time, but squeezed his eyes shut at the same moment, letting out a pained whine.

„Woah, - slowly, sweetheart." Dean shoved another load on the spoon. „Just let me do this, okay? - You just gotta say when it's enough ..."

Sam gave him a short nod and blew out a shuddering breath.

When they were done with half the cup, Dean called for the nurse and told her that Sam'd need more pain-meds, but Sam shook his head.

„No ...", he croaked out, „Wanna be awake ..."

Dean frowned at him. „It's okay. - I'll be here when you wake up. You need to rest, but right now you can't because you're in pain.", he cocked both eyebrows.

Sam shook his head. „No … please … don't let me go back there ..."

For a moment Dean didn't understand. But then it dawned to him … „Nightmares?"

Sam nodded exhausted.

Dean and the nurse shared a wary glance. „Tell you what, Sammy." Dean rose from the chair and eyed the space to Sam's left and right from the bed. „We're getting the bed-rails up on your left side, you're scooting over and i'll lay with you, okay?" He smiled, glancing at the nurse who looked slightly stricken.

A faint smile ghosted over Sam's features, giving another nod.

„I don't know sir ….", the nurse bit her lower lip. „... if that's a good idea with his injury ..."

Dean frowned at her. „Please?", he mouthed, his eyes pleading.

Then she flashed him a smile and nodded. „I think I got something that'd make it quite comfortable for Mister Campbell."

Dean gave her a grateful look.

Half an hour later, Sam was settled on his right side, his arms wrapped around a long pillow that looked like an oversized sausage, so that he couldn't topple forward in his position. Dean stripped off his shoes and socks and crawled onto the bed, settling in behind Sam. He then pulled one of the blankets up, taking care that Sam's arm with the I.V. port was above it, and then he wrapped his arm around Sam's middle.

The nurse smiled satisfied with herself as she moved towards the bed with a syringe in her hands.

„Ready?", she asked and shared a look with Dean, since Sam wouldn't look her in the eyes.

Actually he didn't look at anyone of the staff, not even the doctors. He didn't even talk to them.

Dean gave her a short nod and nuzzled into Sam's neck, making himself comfortable.

She then plugged the syringe into Sam's port and emptied it slowly, giving Dean a short nod.

„That's it, Sammy.", Dean whispered gently, „I'm here. - Just let go, sweetheart."

Minutes later Sam drifted off to sleep with a smile on his lips.

….. to be continued

A/N: thought I'd spoil you guys with the summary of my next story, huh?

It'll probably be called:

LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS

SUMMARY: Sam!30, Dean!34, UNRELATED!WINCEST. Dean's on a case since a couple of months. All across the US people get ripped to shreds by demonic pit bulls. There's no special pattern so far, except the visions Kevin Tran has. When Kevin has another vision, Dean takes off and comes across the hooker who calles himself Morgan (Sam), who's going to be the next on the demons list.

MODIFICATIONS RESERVED