Contact, ch. 6

Wow. I'm embarrassed by how long it has been between chapters. Many apologies! Thanks for sticking with it.

xxxx

Jo had texted Jake that they were on their way to the hospital, and he'd agreed to meet them in the lobby before showing them up to Sam's room.

"Seriously?" Jake asked when he saw his younger brother. "Did he grow? Again?"

Tommy grinned in satisfaction. Michael hadn't commented on the boy's new height, choosing, as he generally did, to ignore changes in his younger brothers that had the possibility of putting him at a disadvantage. Jo had to admit that Michael's strategy of never explicitly acknowledging when his brothers had surpassed him in an area had served him well in maintaining the pecking order among the boys. Michael had always been savvy enough to realize when a competition with one of his brothers might end with him on the losing side, and Jo suspected that the wrestling match between Tommy and his oldest brother earlier in the evening would likely be the last.

Jake, on the other hand, could never let something like that pass without comment. It delighted Tommy to no end.

"6' 3"," Tommy gloated. He'd shot up at an alarming rate in the last three months, and Jo honestly did not know where this height was coming from.

"What?" Jake asked indignantly. He glared at Luke. "That's taller than you."

"Yeah," Luke acknowledged, unconcerned, as he pushed the "up" button for the elevator; it dinged immediately, doors sliding open. "What floor?" he asked as they all stepped inside.

"Five," Jake grumbled. He transferred his scowl to his aunt. "Does that make me the shortest of all of us?"

Jo had to clear her throat suddenly with the realization that Jake was including Dean and Sam in his question. In such a short amount of time the Winchesters were part of "us" again. "Well," she said carefully, "I think you and Dean are right at the same height, so no."

Jake huffed and leaned against the wall of the elevator while Tommy grinned and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, unable to contain his excitement at having bested his brother and at the prospect – Jo knew – of seeing Sam again.

It was close to 10, so the corridors were relatively quiet as they made their way down the hall to Sam's room.

"It looks bad," Jake reminded them when they got close, attention moving between Jo and Tommy. "But he's better." He reached up to push at the side of Tommy's head. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Tommy's head rocked slightly at his brother's touch, and he bit his lip, expression nervous now that they were almost there.

Jo put her hand in Luke's, and he squeezed in gentle reassurance.

It did look bad.

Sam's face was swollen, purple and red and kind of horrifying-looking, though Jake assured them again that there had been improvement. Sam's hair poked out from under the bandage that covered the place where they'd opened his skull to repair the damage to his head. The leg in its traction looked frightening as well. Jo knew that somehow, miraculously, nothing else was broken. His ribs and a large percentage of his body were badly bruised and would be incredibly painful when he finally fully woke. But the rest of Sam's injuries were not nearly as concerning as the head and leg injuries.

Jo detached herself from her husband and stepped to the side of the bed. "Hey, sweetie." She slipped her hand into Sam's where it lay on the bed. "It's Jo." She leaned over and kissed him carefully on the cheek. "We're here." She smoothed the backs of her fingers over the stubble there. "You're going to need a shave soon, I think," she told him.

"Hey, Sam." Luke moved up behind Jo and put a hand, heavy on Sam's uninjured knee.

Jo glanced over her shoulder at Tommy, who was watching them all uncertainly. He hung back, not approaching the bed. Jake stood nearby, and to Jo's surprise didn't tease his brother or make any move to force him forward.

"You know. A lot of these rooms have flowers and junk in them," Jake observed. "Stuffed animals, balloons." He shrugged. "I was thinking we should probably get Sam a teddy bear or something." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "There's a big blue panda down in the gift shop I've got my eye on." He glanced at his brother. "You should check it out. See what you think."

Tommy's eyes moved from Sam's still figure to Jake. He smiled shakily. "Yeah?"

"We could put it that chair." Jake pointed. "So it could keep him company when we're not here. And watch him with its beady little eyes."

Tommy snorted.

"Or I think there's a clown down there."

Tommy started to giggle. "Sammy loves clowns," he managed a little breathlessly, expression easing.

"Let's try not to traumatize the poor guy right away, OK?" Luke recommended dryly. He patted Sam's knee consolingly. "Don't worry, Sam," he said. "I'll protect you." He backed away from the bed and wandered around the room. With a foot, he angled one of the chairs into a position that would let him prop his feet up on the bed. "So." He sat down, raising his legs to rest them in a comfortable position.

"So," Jo agreed. They'd talked about this in the car.

"What?" asked Jake and Tommy together.

"I'm going to hang out with Sam tonight," Luke said. "Jake, you take your mom and your brother home." He looked at Jo. "You get some sleep; fuss over Dean for a while in the morning, then come relieve me." He was reminding her of what they'd already decided.

Still. Biting her lip, hand tightening around Sam's, Jo nodded reluctantly. She didn't want to leave Sam. But at the moment, Dean was in more need of "fussing over" than Sam was. For now, Luke would be with Sam while he slept and be there if anything changed. But she hesitated.

"Sugar, if Sam does wake up, he's not going to be very aware."

She knew that.

"He may not even recognize us," he added.

She knew that, as well.

"And you know how you get when you don't sleep," Jake contributed; Jo glowered at him.

But that was true, too.

She sighed. "Fine."

She looked down at her hand where it clasped Sam's. She ran her other hand down his arm, petting him as a delaying strategy before leaning over again. "We've got you, baby," she whispered to him. "We love you. You're going to be fine." She kissed him one more time and added, "And don't you worry about Dean, okay? We've got him, too."

She let go of Sam's hand and pulled the blankets smooth over him, continuing to fiddle with them more fretfully than she wanted to.

There was movement next to her, and Jake put an arm around her, turning her away from the bed. "He'll be here in the morning."

Jo let herself be moved with a last brush of finger tips over Sam's arm.

"See you tomorrow, Sammy." Tommy had finally stepped up, taking the place Jo had vacated. He'd taken Sam's fingers loosely into his own hand and was studying the man in the bed seriously. "I've missed you." His voice broke slightly.

By the time Jo had blinked her eyes clear, Tommy had joined her by the door. He draped his freakishly long arm over her shoulders, replacing the one Jake had removed when he'd preceded her out into the hallway. Tommy looked down into Jo's face, expression intent. She swallowed, trying to prepare herself for whatever he might say, to think of encouragement for him in the face of seeing Sam so hurt.

Tommy sighed heavily.

"Can we get a hamburger before we go home?"

xxxx

When Dean woke, he could smell bacon and coffee. Usually that combination would have been heaven, but feeling the way he did, it kind of made his stomach turn uncomfortably. He curled onto his side and stared blearily in the direction of the clock on the nightstand. Blinked at it. 10:13.

It was light in the room, though the glare was somewhat muted by the blinds, so it must be morning. Dean closed his eyes. He should get up. He needed to get up. Get going. Check on Sam. See if there had been any change…. Maybe ….

He blinked again, and the clock said 11:21.

Crap.

Dean groaned.

Pushed himself upright.

Get.

He managed to ease his legs over the side of the bed and sat for long minute.

Up.

He got his feet planted and stood. Swayed for a precarious moment, then steadied.

There. Up.

The door was just a few feet away, and Dean took a deep breath before starting forward. Damn. He was still so tired.

Before he could get there, though, the door inched toward him. A head poked hesitantly into the room. When Tommy's eyes met Dean's, the door swung all the way open abruptly. The kid caught it before it slammed into the wall.

"You're awake!" Loud enthusiasm.

Dean produced a tight smile. "Just."

Tommy's own bright grin didn't falter and when he turned his face down the hall, Dean braced himself as the boy opened his mouth and drew in a deep breath.

"He's up!"

Even prepared as he was for the shout, Dean couldn't help the flinch.

"Dude," he managed.

"Sorry." Instant contrition. "Does your head hurt? Do you need some aspirin?" Now Tommy looked worried. "I'll go get you some aspirin."

But before Tommy could get anywhere, Jo appeared in the doorway. She put a staying hand on Tommy's arm, even as her eyes went to Dean.

"Hey, sweetie."

"Hey," he rasped. Three words into the day, and his throat was already aching fiercely.

"You ready for some breakfast?"

Dean hesitated.

"You need to eat."

People kept telling him that. And he wasn't used to having to be coaxed to put food in his mouth. But even now his stomach wasn't sure.

"Just some eggs, okay? Maybe a little toast? Michael said you've been able to handle that much?"

Dean swallowed carefully. Nodded resolutely. He could do that.

"Good. Come on out when you're ready. I'll get things started."

Dean nodded again. He wanted to say "thanks," but couldn't muster up the courage to try and scrape it over his raw throat.

Jo eyed him. "Throat bothering you, baby?"

He grimaced at her in response.

"You could gargle some salt water – that might ease the pain a little."

Dean wrinkled his nose at her. Gross.

Jo shrugged. "Up to you." She turned away. "If you're too stubborn to try something that might help, I can't force you."

Dean looked at Tommy skeptically as Jo disappeared down the hall.

"Yeah," Tommy agreed. "She always says that. But somehow…."

Right. It was like the weight of Jo's disapproval for your stupidity was a physical presence, making you do whatever she thought was best, whether you wanted to or not. Dean had forgotten.

He sighed.

"You still need some aspirin?" Tommy asked. On Dean's nod, he said, "It's in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, OK?" He grinned, his earlier concern forgotten. "Since you're headed there anyway, right?"

Dean found he did have the wherewithal to flip the kid off.

"Ummmm." Tommy pretended to be shocked. "I'm gonna tellll," he sing-songed.

Dean shrugged. "Go ahead," he whispered. "I can just tell Jo you said you'd help and didn't." He raised an eyebrow blandly, and it was worth both the effort and the pain to see the smile slide off Tommy's face.

"Fine." Tommy loped off while Dean followed more slowly.

When Dean got to the bathroom, Tommy had the bottle open and a glass of water ready.

Dean held out his hand, and Tommy shook a couple of capsules into his open palm, handing him the glass after Dean tossed the pills into his mouth. He braced himself as he took a swig of water and swallowed.

Dean felt his eyes water in reaction to the pain of the medication going down.

"You okay?"

Dean nodded, pointing to his throat by way of explanation.

"You need anything else?"

Other than to pee, no. Dean pointed at the door. Get out.

Tommy complied.

xxxx

By the time Dean tottered out to the living area, he was exhausted again. He slumped down at the table.

"Here you go, hon."

As Dean sat up, Jo slid a plate in front of him. There was a modest amount of scrambled eggs on it and two pieces of toast. He studied the meal for a long moment, then picked up his fork. Jo set a glass of water next to his plate.

Tommy was sitting at one of the other places, head bent over his phone. After a flick of acknowledgement when Dean had joined him at the table, Tommy's attention didn't waver from his texting.

Determined, Dean took first one bite of eggs, then a second. If he stayed focused on needing the food for strength, he could just manage to choke the eggs down and keep them where they belonged. Just. The toast was harder both literally and figuratively, but he ate that, too, chewing slowly and deliberately until he could make himself swallow. Then drank his water in three long gulps. When he set the glass back on the table and glanced up, he saw that Jo was watching him from where she stood by the kitchen sink. Her expression was amused.

"Well, I guess I should have known better than to expect any sort of compliment about my cooking," she observed.

Dean opened his mouth to apologize. He had kind of forgotten what few manners he had in his quest to not barf while he was eating what she'd made.

"Dean, I'm kidding. I'm proud of you for eating it all. That was, honestly, more than I expected." She sat down across from him. "How are you feeling?"

Dean shrugged. Not great. At all.

The look Jo gave him told Dean she wasn't buying his attempt to pretend he wasn't ready to pass out again. But she did him the favor of not calling him out on it. "Luke got back a couple of hours ago." Dean's focus sharpened, but Jo was shaking her head. "No real change, sweetie, sorry. Michael's checking in on Sam until you get up there. I'm assuming you'll want to head to the hospital soon."

Well, duh. He put his hands on the table, getting ready to push himself up from his chair.

"Why don't you take a shower, then? I'll take you up when you're ready."

Dean subsided again and ran a hand over his face. A shower? Did he really need one? He'd showered the day before (right?). And all he'd done was sit around and sleep. Plus it would only make him tired. More tired.

Jo looked at him shrewdly. "Want to skip the shower?"

Dean grimaced slightly and nodded.

"Well, it's not like you've been doing much," she agreed.

Dean sighed, oddly relieved that Jo wasn't going to insist that he shower, which. What was even up with that? He was a grown man. He held up one finger – give me a minute – before finally forcing himself to his feet.

"No hurry."

Dean made his way back to his room and was surprised – but not – to find a stack of clean clothes on the dresser. He pulled out a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and a flannel. He got dressed ridiculously slowly before shoving his feet into his boots and shuffling off to brush his teeth.

"Sweetheart?" Jo came into the hallway just as Dean reached the bathroom. "I'm going to offer you some salt water to gargle with one more time before you brush your teeth."

Dean stifled a groan. It sounded so disgusting, but, damn, if his throat hadn't stopped throbbing since he'd gotten up. And swallowing…. Defeated, he nodded his agreement.

Jo approached, holding a mug that Dean knew held the salt water – prepared in anticipation of his inevitable capitulation. She looked smug.

"Here."

Dean took the offering with a pout.

"Tommy and I are ready when you are," she said.

He nodded, closing the bathroom door on her. He heard her laugh on the other side.

Dean set the mug on the counter and wrestled his toothbrush and toothpaste out of his Dopp kit. He wanted to be ready to brush as soon as he'd finished.

OK. He took a mouthful of the warm salt water – ugh – and tilted his head back, letting it settle in his throat. He gargled, quickly at first wanting to get it over with, then slowing, as he felt the soreness begin to ease. Dean spit the water out when he needed a breath. He waited for a minute, testing the results, then gargled again. And one more time, finishing the cup. He swished the saltiness out of his mouth, then brushed quickly, somewhat afraid of counter-acting the sweet relief with the toothpaste. He wondered if he could make up a bottle of salt water and carry it with him for whenever he needed it. He wondered if he could do it without having to admit to Jo that she'd been right.

When he made it into the living room, Jo smiled at him, but didn't comment.

"Let's go!" Tommy barked.

xxxx

They'd dropped Tommy off at the law school to meet up with Jake and supposedly study. Jo had visibly shuddered at Dean's question about Tommy's hanging out in the hospital room with them.

"Really?" she'd asked. "Do you want to be cooped up in a small space with that awkward ball of energy for the day? We'd need another hospital room for him after 10 minutes." She'd watched her nephew jog up the stairs to the school. "Let Jake deal with him for a couple of hours."

Dean had raised an eyebrow at that. Tommy had always seemed like the easy one to Dean.

On his look, Jo had made a face. "Sorry. It's been a rough few months."

As they'd headed to the hospital, Dean had listened to Jo's rundown of Tommy's growing pains with interest. In Dean's eyes, Jo had always managed to at least appear to have things under control when it came to the boys. Her obvious frustration with Tommy was both refreshing and a little disturbing.

Jo had sighed as she'd pulled into a parking spot. "The thing is that I know that a lot of what we're going through with Tommy isn't really all that bad. It's annoying, but it's pretty typical behavior for a kid his age." She'd shaken her head ruefully. "And you'd think after dealing with variations on this theme with Michael and Jake – plus Luke's older two – that we'd be better prepared to deal with it. But, honestly? We're old now. And too tired for this… stuff."

Dean had laughed as he'd pushed the car door open. "Energy drinks can be helpful," he'd suggested. Talking was easier than it had been, but he could still feel a tightness in his throat that made him speak carefully.

"Don't think I haven't tried that," Jo had admitted. "But the crash at the end only made things worse."

When they'd gotten to Sam's room, Dean had been drooping. Jo had parked in the garage without thinking about it, and it had been a long walk to their destination. Jo had been remorseful, but Dean had refused her offer to start up the car again and drive him to the door. He'd been seriously regretting that decision by the time they'd made it to Sam's room.

The nurse had stuck her head in to give them an update on Sam's progress – still unconscious, but definitely moving toward wakefulness. They were just waiting for Sam to decide to surface, the woman had said with a slight smile. Dean and Jo had spent some time talking to Sam, trying to bring him around, but Sam had stayed stubbornly – surprise, surprise – asleep. Brat.

That had been hours ago, and now, shifting restlessly in an impossible attempt to find a comfortable position in the damned chair, Dean wanted to crawl out of his skin. The fact that Jo was sitting so peacefully in the other chair reading, apparently contentedly, only made Dean's antsiness more pronounced.

"I'm taking a walk," he said, giving up on trying to settle.

Jo looked at him over her glasses. "Need company?"

"No. I'm fine. Just need to move."

"OK." She turned her attention back to her book. "Don't fall down."

Dean rolled his eyes. And put a steadying hand on the door jamb as he walked past it.

A circuit of the floor and some time spent staring out the window into a pleasant looking courtyard actually helped, and Dean headed back toward Sam's room ready to settle in again.

"Feel better?"

Dean nodded toward Jo and made his way to Sam's bedside for a quick check-in. "Hey, man." He patted Sam absently on the arm, eyes skimming vaguely over the monitors his brother was connected to without much comprehension of what he was seeing. The doctor had said they indicated Sam was much closer to sleeping than…coma-ing, and Dean was good with that. "You…"

Sam's arm under Dean's hand moved. He made an odd, questioning sound.

"Sam?" Dean tightened his grip reflexively on Sam's forearm. "You with me?" He was aware of Jo jumping out of her chair and joining him on the other side of Sam's bed.

Sam's head turned slowly toward Dean, eyes working their way open.

Surely at some point Sam's simply opening his eyes wouldn't seem miraculous. But this was not that point. "Hey."

The look Sam gave him was puzzled and pained, but was definitely more aware than the one Dean had gotten the day before.

"How are you doing?" Dean let go of Sam's arm and put a steadying hand on his brother's chest.

Sam's eyes moved away from Dean and skimmed uncertainly down his own body. Dean watched as Sam took in his leg in the traction harness and his right hand moved unsteadily up, reaching for his head, touching his temple, eyes coming to Dean's again. Asking.

"You were in house collapse, dude," Dean said, and though Sam maintained the same troubling silence he had the day before, Dean could see the information register.

Sam's tongue poked out, running over chapped lips.

"Here." Jo had stayed silent up to this point, but now she held out a cup to Dean. "Ice chips," she reminded him.

Sam blinked when he saw Jo, and there was a flicker of recognition before Sam's attention shifted to Dean, then back to Jo.

"Hey, sweetheart," Jo said.

"Yeah, guess who I ran into?" Dean shook the cup of ice, and Sam turned his head toward Dean. "Want some?"

Sam's mouth opened, and Dean obligingly dropped some chips in. "Just let them melt," Dean reminded him as Sam's eyes slid closed. Then Sam dipped his chin slightly in acknowledgement.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Jo, who responded in kind.

"Maybe I should go get a nurse?" Jo mouthed, and Dean nodded.

Dean felt a light tap on his arm and looked down to see Sam squinting at him, mouth open again. Dean gave him some more ice. And with Dean's focus back on his brother, they repeated the process several more times, without the need for more reminders until Sam didn't open his mouth again.

"You done?"

Sam regarded Dean steadily for two long beats, face clouding before he finally nodded, and Dean set the cup on the bedside table.

"Okay, man, listen." Dean checked over his shoulder, not sure what he was actually hoping for – that the doctor or Jo would come back in or that he'd have a minute to talk to Sam in private.

"Your injuries are serious, okay, Sammy?" Dean tried to say it as gently as he could. "And the head injury – you actually had a dent in your head that they had to fix."

Sam's face, colorless as it had seemed, actually paled some more, and Dean spoke quickly, hoping to reassure. "But the fact that you're awake and recognizing people, is a really good thing. You hear me, Sam? That's good."

Sam blinked at him, trying to process what his brother was telling him. He frowned at Dean, confused Dean knew by the situation and probably by the fact that he wasn't able – apparently – to articulate that confusion.

"It's good, okay?" Dean reassured him, keeping his voice steady and firm, trying to infuse a sense of calm into Sam.

Eyes locked on Dean for a long minute, Sam breathed in shakily, nodded carefully. Dean could see that in addition to the uncertainty in Sam's expression, there was a creeping registering for his brother of the pain he was in.

"Alright." Dean hesitated. He wasn't sure how much further to go in explaining what was happening, but he knew that the not-talking thing was going to become an issue for his brother pretty quickly. In fact it already was. "So," he went on, "The doctor said that the head injury might cause some communication issues," Sam's face creased in alarm, and Dean hurried on, "but that we needed to give you some time, okay?" Again, Dean kept his voice as low and calm as he could, eyes on Sam's, trying to keep his brother focused on him.

Sam's breath hitched a couple of times, his mouth working, but no sound came out.

"Sam. Listen."

Sam shook his head, not in refusal to listen, but in response to whatever was going on in his head.

"Sammy, look at me." Dean bent closer, pressing down slightly with the hand he'd placed on Sam's chest, trying to shift his brother's attention from internal matters to external. Sam made a soft sound at the pain Dean knew he must have felt at the pressure on his bruised ribs, but his attention shifted, gaze moving almost desperately to Dean.

Dean nodded at him, encouraging. "I get that you're scared, man, I do. But," and here he gave a slight smile, "we can't freak out yet, okay?" He waited, not letting his eyes waver from Sam's.

And Sam looked right back at him, grounding himself and settling. Sam nodded unsteadily again.

There was movement at the door, and Dean turned toward it, straightening as he did so, but not breaking physical contact with Sam.

Dr. Arnold was entering the room, Jo on his heels.

When Dean returned his attention to his brother, Sam was looking at the doctor.

"Hi, Sam," said the man. "I'm Dr. Arnold." He smiled when he realized that Sam was aware of him. "It's good to see you a little more awake. Your brother's been worried."

xxxx