Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure.

Synopsis: Set at the start of Season One, Dean had been in a wheelchair since his father disappeared more than a year ago and he finally has to tell Sam… There'd been an accident that night and Dean had paid a very high price…one he still doesn't understand. The story will have some hunts from season one and possibly into season two…the brothers will continue their search for their father…there will be alterations to the hunts to accommodate Dean's new situation. I have every intention of returning Dean to good health before this ends…but getting there is going to be bumpy.

Please keep in mind that I do not have a Beta, so all grammatical errors are my own. Not Slash. Brotherly love and Angst only…

Please Review: They keep me motivated. Also thank you to any reviewers that are 'guests' since I cannot PM and you guys personally.

Chapter 17

Taking Care of Dean

Sam didn't want to deal with his father while he was trying to take care of his brother's injuries, but he knew he didn't have a choice. He reached for the scissors and sliced up from the ankle to the crotch in Dean's bloody and torn jeans, gently pulling at the material hoping that it would come easily from the thin legs of his brother. As he got to the thigh area he stopped as the jeans were all but glued to the wounds on the insides of Dean's thighs. He sighed sadly as he stood and walked to the bathroom gathering wet warm towels and then heading back out toward his brother's prone form. His gaze flickered over the wounds that those bastards had inflicted on his brother, the split lip with blood dried on his chin. Then there was the blood that had dripped from a nearly eight inch slice across Dean's chest and finally there were his legs to contend with along with the wounds on his hands to Sam would need to deal with…soon. As Sam sank down onto the bed next to Dean's hip, looking at the enormity of his brother's injuries, a thought occurred to him that had him seeing red almost literally as rage flooded through his system.

Dean wouldn't have been able to feel the depth or the pain from the wounds on his legs…but he would have smelled the flesh burning on his own body…the multiple burns on the insides of his thighs were at least second degree…close to being deep tissue burns. And then there was a stab wound in the upper part of his left leg…son of a bitch…how had he missed that…? Sam inhaled slowly and placed the towel on the crusty blood waiting for it to soften so he could gently pull the material from the burns and deal with them. He knew that there was a good chance that there could be an infection that would start to settle in if he didn't deal with these wounds quickly. He hoped that his stubborn older brother wouldn't wake up as he cleaned and bandaged the wounds, because this wasn't going to be fun…for either of them.

Sam peeled the now softening material up and hissed through his teeth at the damage. The burns were each close to four inches in length and the stretched between his brother's thighs stopping about two inches from a sensitive area that should never be privy to such intense heat. His eyes were then drawn to the knife wound and he grabbed the needle and thread and pushed the leg of his brother's boxer-briefs up and set to sewing the cut up after it was disinfected. It took twenty stitches both subcutaneous and on the surface to close the wound effectively. He rubbed the burn cream over the two wounds and then placed non-stick curad pads over the burns and secured them in place.

He then moved to Dean's chest to deal with the eight inch gash across his brother's chest. He cleaned the wound and then stitched it closed as he looked at the wound on his brother's left shoulder as well. It looked like the bastards had shoved a hot poker into his brother's shoulder. The puncture wound was cauterized as though they had stabbed Dean with it while it was glowing white hot. His guilt was compounding as he treated each wound individually…it was kinda his fault that this had happened. He hadn't seen the Bender that had knocked him out cold and thrown him into a cage and then his older brother had come to save him…and he'd been tortured as a result. And that was nearly killing him inside…that he had failed Dean on so many occasions and this was just one more to add to that long laundry list.

Sam then leaned up and looked at his older brother's face and then started to clean the two clean cuts along his cheekbones…again with the stitches. He made them small and neat to minimize the scarring as he dealt with the injuries. The last of the wounds that he needed to deal with were the slices into his brother's hands. These in conjunction with the burns were the ones that were making Sam nauseated the most…he could feel his gut rolling and twisting as he cleaned the clean, almost surgical slices into the tops of Dean's hand and his knuckles.

"S'mmy…you kay?" Dean asked quietly. He reached up one bandaged hand and touched Sam's leg in a silent reassurance that his little brother was there. His questing fingers encountering the solid form of his little brother as Sam reached out and gently pushed Dean's injured hands back down.

"I'm fine Dean…you need to rest. Think you can swallow some water and some pain pills?" Sam asked as he grabbed the bottle of water off the small table next to the bed. Dean blinked sluggishly at him, his green eyes glassy with pain and the blood loss making him paler than normal.

"Think so…" Dean said quietly as he continued to search Sam's body for injury. There was something that he should be remembering…something that had to do with their dad. But he just couldn't seem to grab the floating thoughts before they dissipated into nothingness. He heard the door open and the rush of cold air as it was shut again. Dean worked to see through the fuzzy edges of his vision as he tried to see what had just walked into their room. Since Sam was currently looking at him in concern and he knew that Bobby wouldn't have had time to get where they were. He cast his eyes in a wide arc and finally found them falling on the face of their father.

Dean felt an irrational fear launch inside his chest as he looked into the blue eyes of the man that had abandoned him and in all likelihood traded his son's life for his own. At least according to those visions of his little brothers. And then another icy cold tendril of fear slithered into Dean's heart…Sammy…if he was unconscious then Sam was vulnerable to anything. He could feel his grasp on the waking world slipping as both blood loss and the pain pills that Sam had given him started to kick in. The last thing that he saw was the angry visage of his little brother rising to his feet and standing protectively above his bed. What an awesome big brother he was…couldn't even protect Sam.

Sam glared at their father as he rolled the wheelchair through the door and his blue eyes landed on the form of his eldest son. They flickered back up to connect with the angry fire that was damn near spitting out of Sam's gaze as he stood and folded his arms across his chest. He turned to ensure that Dean was starting to fall asleep…he didn't want to get into anything if there was even the remotest chance that his older brother would wake up and hear the conversation. Sam had no intentions of pulling his punches with his father. The man had sold out Dean and left him to battle through the toughest thing that the blonde haired man would ever go through. And Sam just wasn't ready to forgive him yet.

He'd broken Dean in ways that Sam wasn't sure could be fixed…not that his stubborn brother would ever admit any of that. But Sam wasn't stupid, he'd seen the way that Dean looked at their father. He'd seen the fear and the hurt flash across his brother's face the instant that their father had materialized. So while Dean might be able to forgive their dad for the mistakes…he could hardly call what John had done 'mistakes'…he wouldn't be quite so easy a sell. It didn't help that Sam had seen exactly what had been done to Dean over the 'missing' years...and he wasn't ready to forgive their father for that.

John cast his gaze at the bed as Dean slipped into unconsciousness again. "Is he okay?"

Sam snorted and raised an eyebrow as he narrowed his eyes, his tone was ice cold when he finally answered the question. "No…he's not 'okay'…do you really even care?"

John looked like Sam had socked him in the jaw. His eyes widened and then narrowed as he decided how to deal with this version of Sammy. This wasn't a man that was going to take orders…and that actually pissed John off. He'd done the best he could for these boys…and yeah, he'd made mistakes and he was going to continue to make mistakes…but that didn't mean that he didn't love them.

"Sam…" he said as he sat in a chair and scrubbed a hand down his face. "You don't' understand…"

Sam latched onto that and his anger increased as he threw his hands into the air. "I don't understand?! Then explain it to me dad. Explain how you could leave Dean in a crappy hospital and disappear for that last year? Explain how he wound up taking the 'bullet' for you in that cabin in the first place. Oh, and while you're at it…explain why you felt the need to blame him for my choice to leave and go to school. And last, but certainly not least, explain why you felt the need to beat the holy loving shit out of your oldest son? Yeah…cuz really dad…I'd love to hear your reasons for all of those things." Sam was nearly vibrating with anger as he finished and worked on staying rooted to his spot on the floor or he was going to knock the crap out of their father.

John stared wide eyed at his youngest son. He knew that he'd trained his boys to be strong and able to speak their minds…though not usually to him…but this side of Sam? He'd never known that such a strong and independent mind existed in his youngest son. The man that Sam had become was something to be reckoned with…he could see that from the almost tangible power and rage that was rolling off the boy as he stood guard over his brother's prone body. He wanted to explain, he really did. But what could he say…oh hey Sam…I can't actually remember the last four years so I have no idea what I did. And even more…I can't be held responsible for it. Yup, cuz that would go over really well with the extremely angry young man staring at him in disgust at the moment.

"Sam…" He started and watched as Sam stiffened and shook his head at the defeated tone he heard in his father's voice.

"You know what dad? I don't want to hear it." Sam said coldly as he turned back to Dean and sank down onto the bed next to his brother's hip. He reached out and ran his fingers through the short blonde hair and then trailed them over the cut on the right cheek. He cringed inwardly at the sight of his brother's injured and sleeping form. Sam heard their father pull himself to his feet and then walk to the door.

"I'm going to go get a room for the night Sam. If you need…." Sam cut him off immediately.

"We won't." He said in an icy voice, just before he heard the door click shut. "I'm not gonna let him hurt you anymore Dean." Sam whispered. He was surprised to feel his brother's hand shift and gently clasp his. Dean wasn't awake, but he was seeking comfort…and he was seeking it from Sam. "I've got you big brother." He whispered.

XXXX

The first sensation that Dean felt was warmth…he was warm and he felt safe. And he hadn't felt that in a really long time…so the sensation was definitely foreign to him. The second sensation was decidedly less pleasant. Pain…dull waves of agony rolling through his system as he tried to just lie still and recapture his previous feelings of safety. But the pain wasn't going to allow him to ignore it. His head hurt…because he'd been bashed in the skull by some bat-shit crazy hillbilly. That brought him to his first thought…Sammy?! Dean pushed down the nausea as he forced his heavy eyelids open and blinked slowly as his eyes adjusted to the low light in the room.

"Sam…?" he called quietly. He heard the immediate footsteps and then his little brother's shaggy head popped into view. Sam looked worried but there was also relief in his expressive blue-green eyes as he forced a smile onto his face and sank onto the bed next to Dean.

"Hey…how you feeling?" Sam asked as he glanced over Dean's body for anything that indicated a change in his condition.

Dean drew his eyebrows together as he registered the question and tried to think of the best way to answer it. Because telling his worried brother that he felt like 'roadkill' was probably not a very good idea. Sam looked like he was barely holding his emotions together as it was…so he really didn't need Dean dumping his woes onto already heavily loaded shoulders. Dean remembered seeing their father…although a part of him wondered if it was just a trick of his imagination...some hallucination of fevered and pain-filled mind.

"Okay I guess…M'm alive…" Dean closed his eyes against a wave of pain and clenched his fists into the scratchy sheets of the motel bed. Sam didn't miss the action and was immediately leaning forward to stare into Dean's face.

"That's what matters…Dean…what can I do?" Sam whispered as he watched his brother wipe the pain from his face and open his glassy green eyes, only to stare owlishly at Sam. He shook his head slowly and then immediately regretted the action as he felt bile threaten to make an unscheduled appearance.

Dean inhaled slowly, since the action caused pain to crash across his chest and fire to lance through his shoulder. It occurred to him that the injuries to his legs were probably very painful…at this particular moment he was glad that he couldn't feel it. Because he wasn't sure how much more of it he could take. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Did I imagine…dad?" Dean asked in a softly hoarse voice as he looked at Sam in a way that made Sam wish that his brother had imagined the presence of their father.

Sam shook his head 'no', and reached out to lay a gentle hand on Dean's uninjured shoulder. The look that flashed across his usually guarded brother's face was abject fear and loathing…but not for their father…which is who he should be loathing. But directed at Dean himself. He was laying on a crappy motel bed after being tortured when he tried to rescue his brother…and he was hating himself for it. It made Sam feel sick inside.

"He got his own room Dean." Sam looked at the slight relaxation in his brother's furrowed brow as a sign that he was grateful that the man wasn't staying in their room with them. "I'm not gonna let him hurt you Dean." Sam said…and then he immediately regretted it as he watched his brother's face fall and the instantaneous self-hatred that oozed from Dean. Damn-it. This wasn't going the way that Sam had hoped. He'd wanted to reassure his brother not make him feel like Sam didn't think he could take care of himself. Hell, he could obviously take care of himself, since he'd come after Sam and almost managed to rescue him…despite his rather glaring handicap. But those were words that Sam would take to his grave…he would never call his brother handicapped. Because even in this condition his older brother was more capable than the majority of the human race.

Dean felt the shame slither through him, like a serpent, as he looked silently at his brother. Did Sam really think that he needed to be 'protected'? Because if he did…then Sam had it all wrong. It was Dean's responsibility to protect Sam…not the other way around…and somehow he was going to have to remind his little brother of that fact. He decided that it was too dangerous to let Sam see these raw emotions, especially in this unguarded form…so he pulled in a ragged breath and steeled his features…clearing them of the rejection and the fear that was always thrumming in the back of his head. "He isn't going to hurt me Sam." Dean managed to bite out as he turned his head from Sam and stared at the wall.

"Dean…" Sam started, only to be interrupted by his brother.

"No Sam…just leave this alone…" Dean turned and looked straight into Sam's worried eyes and his own mask slipped for only a moment as he added. "Please Sammy…" The last words were spoken in a whisper before Dean was dropping his eyelids closed. It was an old trick…one that Sam had seen a million times growing up. Whenever Dean didn't want to talk about something, he would simply feign sleep. And truthfully, he was pretty good at it, Sam had had to learn to watch for the slight flutter of his brother's eyelids to see if he was really sleeping or simply 'ignoring' Sam.

Sam decided to let it go for now…but they were going to have to talk about this at some point in the future…he'd make sure of it.

XXXX

The soft knock on the door a few hours later had Sam flying out of bed, his sleep addled mind trying to make sense of where he was and what was going on.

"Sam?!" Dean called from his bed, he'd pushed himself up onto his elbows…his face flushed with what Sam knew could only be a fever, the stitches on both his cheekbones making him look so much worse. Sam shook his head and held his hand out toward his brother in a comforting gesture as he hauled himself out of bed and padded slowly to the door. He grabbed his silver Taurus on the way, and looking at Dean as he held a finger to his lips and his older brother instantly silenced on response.

"Sam? Dean?" Sam rolled his eyes and released a lungful of air in irritation as he flung the door open and his father raised an eyebrow at the sight of his youngest son standing there shirtless with only his running pants on and bare-feet.

"That can get you killed Sam." John said as he brushed past Sam and marched into their room, setting a tray of coffee's on the table and a white bag which probably contained donuts. He glanced over at the other bed and saw that Dean was indeed awake and watching him with confused and fever bright eyes. "Shit…Sam when did the fever start?" he asked as he stepped closer to the bed.

Dean couldn't control the impulse to shrink back from his father as he watched the man approach his bedside. His vision was blurry and he couldn't tell if his father had a weapon in his hands or not…maybe he'd come to finish what the demons had started…

Sam spun around and glared at their father as he slammed the door shut and walked back to his bed, crawling in and putting the pistol under his pillow as he pulled the blankets back up. "I already gave him some Tylenol and I put cold compresses on his head earlier dad." He grumbled against his pillow. "I know how to take care of a fever…" Sam finished as he pulled his head up long enough to shoot a pissy look in his father's direction. "And another thing…don't tell me how to do anything…you lost that right a long time ago."

John bit back the angry retort that flooded into his mouth at the insolence of his youngest son. But Sam was right about a few things…he had lost the right to tell his sons what to do. That had been lost when his memories were taken nearly four years ago. For all he knew…he glanced over at his eldest son…he was guilty of getting Dean hurt like this.

"Sam, I'm not here to fight. I just want to help Dean."

Sam groaned and pulled himself back up and turned to stare at his father… "Why? Why now dad? You had four years to help him…and all you did is break him down and leaving him bleeding and busted in some shitty cabin." Sam glared at John. He had no intention of pulling his punches where his father was concerned. In fact the man was lucky that Sam wasn't throwing real punches…just verbal barbs.

John looked away and then scrubbed a hand down his face in frustrated sadness. "Sam…I don't remember…anything from the last four years." He sighed and sank into the chair at the small table. "I swear, I didn't even know that Dean was hurt…and god…Sam do you really think I would…" He could barely say the word as the bile threatened to come spilling out. "Abuse…my own son? Was I really so bad that you think that's actually possible? I know I was hard you boys…but this is a rough gig Sam…I was scared…for both of you." His eyes were so sincere that Sam halted the smart-ass retort that almost pushed past his pursed lips as he listened…really listened to his father. Was it possible that their dad had been possessed for the last four years? If so, then what the hell had happened to Dean? And, oh God…if it was a demon that had been abusing his brother…then there was probably a lot more that Dean wasn't telling him. No wonder he'd looked at their father with abject fear and shame. Sam mused as he stared his dad.

"I don't know what to think…but I know that Dean was the one that got hurt here…and that can't happen again." Sam folded his arms across his chest and set his jaw. "I won't let that happen again."

TBC…

Author's Note: John had information for the boys and Dean will continue to heal back up. They should be back out on the road in the next chapter with a new lead that will take them straight out of the frying pan and into the fire. Gonna be a good one.

Please Review: Take the time and let me know if you are still enjoying the story. Reviews fuel my muse.