Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kirpke'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.

WARNING: These chapters can contain a lot of angst and can get a little graphic with the pain and blood...consider yourself warned. Don't like...Don't Read...

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: So I know there's still interest in this little story.

Chapter 32

Hidden Wounds

The drive to the Roadhouse was every bit as uncomfortable as Dean had thought that it would be. He hurt…plain and simple…his back was pulsing just above his old injury site and the shoulder wound that he was keeping secret from Sam wasn't at all happy with the maintained position he was being forced to keep. He could feel the heat spreading outward from the wound in an uncomfortable spiral of fiery heat. Plus, he knew that he should be on antibiotics, but he just couldn't quite bring himself to ask Sam for help. Although, he knew that his brother would be more than happy to assist…unfortunately at this point…Sam didn't know that the bullet that had caused the injury to Dean…came from his gun. And Dean wasn't about to reveal that little nasty fact to his already guilt ridden little brother. So he simply ignored the pain.

It had taken damn near two days to get this far...and each night that they'd had to stop at a motel had created more lies between the brothers. Sam wasn't asking 'How Dean's feeling?' and Dean wasn't offering the information. So all in all…it had made for a very quiet and almost unbearably uncomfortable ride. Dean'd come close to telling Sam the truth on the second night, mostly because when Dean had rolled into the bathroom to try and take a shower, he'd noticed the red lines beginning at the edges of the wound. But since there wasn't any other signs of infection, he'd decided to the clean the shit out of it as best he could, liberally apply anti-biotic cream, and move on. The slight increase in his temperature could be rationalized back to the sudden re-occurrence of his spinal injury. A small voice in the back of his head…one that sounded remarkably like a young Sammy…kept begging Dean to talk to Sam about the bullet wound. But he just couldn't bring himself to put anymore strain on Sam at the moment...not unless there was no other choice. He knew that his brother was already blaming himself for Dean being back in a wheelchair. Although, Dean sure wasn't blaming Sam for that, he understood that it was the interference of that damn demon bitch that had put him back in this metal contraption from Hell.

Sam was watching the road with all the concentration of nuclear physicist, meaning he definitely wasn't paying attention to Dean's constant shifting as he tried alleviate some of the pain. Dean, however, assumed it was so he didn't have to look at his broken older brother. He bit at his lower lip in frustration and then looked out the window as the hills rolled by. He wished, for the millionth time, that he could sleep in cars like he could when he was young. But with the changes to his body, he found that he just woke up in more pain than he'd gone to sleep with…so it just wasn't worth it.

"Hey, I think this is our turn off." Sam said evenly as he slowed down. He chanced a glance in Dean's direction and then felt the immediate wash of guilt at the slightly pained expression in his brother's face. He turned his eyes back toward the road quickly and maneuvered the car gently onto the gravel road. He knew how sensitive Dean was about his baby, so he made sure to stay pretty slow on the uneven gravel road and avoid anything that even resembled a pothole.

Dean sighed when he caught the rushed side long look from Sam. "Yeah, this looks about right. It's been…" He thought for a moment and then chuckled a bit, although there was no humor in the sound. "I don't even know how long since I've been out this direction. I think that dad brought me once, but he didn't let me go inside or anything." He slumped a bit and wished he hadn't said the last part when Sam's jaw clenched and his shoulders stiffened. Every time that Dean even brought up their father, his brother would react like this. And while Dean didn't really have any love lost for the man…not at this point…but...he had saved Sammy's life and that was something that Dean would always be profoundly grateful for. Because Dean could live with a lot of things, but he couldn't live with Sam dead, of that he was absolutely certain.

A large run down looking building came into view and had Dean squinting his eyes as the bright sunlight filtered through the dust hanging in the air. It really was the epitome of dive bar. He was pretty sure that the sun wasn't supposed to hurt like that...maybe it was the increasing pressure inside his head that was making his eyes so sensitive to the light...? Sam turned to look at Dean in question. "You sure this is the place Dean?"

Dean huffed and then lifted his right hand to indicate the sign above the entrance that read Harvelle's Roadhouse… "I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that 'yes', I am sure this is the correct Harvelle's roadhouse." He turned a sarcastic glare in his brother's direction, before Sam blew out a long suffering breath of air and pushed open his door.

Sam him a dirty look in response. "I'll get your chair…smartass." He mumbled as he walked to the trunk of the car.

Dean waited as he listened to Sam rustle around in the trunk and then finally approach with his chair a moment later. He pushed his own door open and the cringed as white hot pain shot through his body when he jarred his shoulder. Sam was staring at the old entrance into the bar and so he missed the sharp intake of breath as Dean tried to think around the pain.

"Hey do you think Ellen and dad ever had a thing?" Sam said absently. He wasn't even looking at Dean, he was watching the dust roll off the old wooden porch that led up to the entrance of the place.

"What?" Dean asked quickly. "No…no way." He bit his tongue and then heaved himself from the car to the chair. It took a moment for the lancing agony in his arm to settle enough that his breathing wasn't coming in rapid pants. When he finally forced his eyelids open he was dismayed to see Sam staring at him in building concern.

"Dean…what's wrong with your arm?" He asked in a barely restrained voice. Sam had been trying to rationalize the stilted movements of his brother since Bobby's. But as he watched Dean cradle his arm to his body like an injured animal, he knew he couldn't ignore the odd physical behaviors of his older brother any longer. He could see the lies forming quickly in Dean's head as he stared mutely at the ground. Refusing to answer Sam's question until he'd worked out a story to cover the real reason he wasn't using his left arm.

After a moment more of silence, Dean lifted glassy green eyes and met Sam's worried gaze. He could feel his temperature rising again and he knew that he wasn't getting better. So whether or not he wanted to admit this…he had to tell Sam…because his vision was starting to blur and he could feel the shakes starting as his battered body fought the rising infection. "Uh…a few days ago…I injured it…and I think it's infected." He wasn't going into more detail than he absolutely had to. Dean watched as Sam's brilliant mind started piecing together the time frame here…

"Did I…" Sam gulped and stepped closer to his brother. "Did I hurt you, Dean?" He asked in a whisper as he sank to his knees in front of Dean's chair. His hands coming to rest on his brother's lilting legs, as he stared steadfastly into the cloaked expression Dean had adopted recently.

Dean shook his head simply. "No Sam…you didn't hurt me." He watched as the words he'd chosen slammed into his brother and Sam rocked back on his heels.

"What did happen, Dean?" He asked. Sam couldn't take much more of this…every time he thought they were getting closer to a solution to this whole situation, they were whip lashed upside the head by another problem. And the fact that Dean now found himself condemned once more to a wheelchair and had been somehow seriously injured by Sam, was almost more than he could handle.

It was Dean's turn to pull in the long slow sigh of breath and allow his eyelids to fall shut in tired frustration. He reached up with his right hand and gently pulled his shirt up so that Sam could see the injury site. It was covered in white gauze, that was stained with an icky yellow-green stain and lines extending out from beneath the bandage. Sam surged to his feet and reached out to touch the wound. He nearly gagged when the smell from the puss that had drained, and collected on the white bandage, hit him full force in the nostrils.

"Dean! How could you not have told me about this?" Sam admonished, as he narrowed his eyes in disapproval of Dean's methods. He touched the red hot skin surrounding the wound, it was so puffy…and hot…it was so fucking 's fingers immediately traveled to Dean's forehead and Sam's own forehead was instantly furrowing in rapidly increasing concern. "You have a nasty fever, Dean." He said in clipped tone. It came out almost as an accusation.

"I know…" Dean said quietly.

"Why wouldn't you have told me about this, Dean? It needed to be properly taken care of. You know how easily these types of wounds can become infected and then that turns into blood poisoning or septicemia…you know this stuff, Dean." Sam said as he gestured to the red lines and the gunk on his brother's shoulder...Sam knew he was rambling, but he was in full out panic mode now. Dean's eyes were glazed and he was starting to list forward in his chair.

Almost as though, telling Sam about the injury had given him permission to succumb to the fever and the pain. "No..no, Dean…you gotta stay awake." Sam moved to the back of the wheelchair and was pushing it quickly inside the bar.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but a man lying on top of the bar, obviously passed out…or dead, halted Sam in his tracks. He was just getting ready to go tap the guy on the shoulder when Dean started to slip forward in his chair as he passed out. "Dean!" Sam cried as he grabbed onto Dean's good shoulder to stop the descent of his older brother's body. It scared him more than he was willing to admit when the pain that had to have lurched through his system when Sam touched him...failed to rouse his older brother. "Dean, wake up man…come on…Dean!" Sam said again.

"Hey, what's all that racket?" A female voice called as a woman stepped through the double hanging doors behind the bar. She appeared to be in her early forties, with light brown hair and harassed expression on her face.

"Please…are you Ellen?" Sam asked. At her hesitant nod, Sam rushed forward. "I need help. My name's Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean…he's hurt." She looked at him with a different expression, one of pity instead of suspicion….

"Yeah, I'm Ellen. This is Dean?" She questioned as she set down her hand gun…one that Sam hadn't even noticed she was carrying, and rushed forward. "What happened to him?"

"I don't exactly know…he wouldn't explain it. But I know he's got a pretty bad infection and a rising fever." Sam wanted to find a hole to crawl into. He couldn't believe that he couldn't even tell this woman what had happened to get Dean into this condition in the first place.

"Hey mom, you know these guys?" Another voice asked. It was higher pitched and obviously belonged to a younger woman. Sam's eyes flickered over and he caught a glimpse of a small blonde woman, maybe twenty years old, standing just off to the left with a shotgun slowly starting to lower as her eyes flashed between Ellen and the men she was helping.

"Yeah, yeah I know these boys, Jo…these are John Winchester's sons." She said. There was something in her voice that Sam couldn't place, but it wasn't exactly a friendly tone when she talked about their late father.

"Oh…" Jo said as she walked behind the bar and set the shotgun down. She bumped the guy on the bar with her elbow as she walked back out into the room. "Get up Ash, we got company."

The man rolled quickly as he came into full awareness instantly. "What? Time to open? Time to close?" He rambled as he struggled to his feet, his hands coming up to his head in the universal sign of 'I've got a hangover'.

"None of those. But this boy could use some help." Ellen said as she help Sam get Dean into the room in the back. "When did he end up in a wheelchair? John never mentioned that." She asked.

Sam stiffened instantly at the question as they moved Dean from the chair onto the small bed. "He…there was an accident…on a hunt…more than a year ago." He felt the knot in his throat tighten and Sam wasn't sure he could finish with that story. But luckily Ellen didn't press for further explanation; she left the room briefly to get her first aid kit. This wasn't the first hunter she'd had to help patch up after a botched hunt.

Sam was pulling the covers up over Dean after he'd carefully removed his brother's shirts. The bandage was still in place, mostly because the puss and blood from the wound had caked onto it making it pull at the skin when he'd tried to remove it. So he'd given up and waited for Ellen to return. "Ellen?" He called as she set the kit down and then turned to the young man lying in her guest bed and sighed when she saw the lines extending from beneath the bandage.

"Yeah?" She said quickly. Jo was hovering in the doorway, her hands at her sides as she tried to figure out how to help.

"I think we need hot water and some rags to soak this bandage. It's dried to the wound." Sam answered.

"I'll get those mom." Jo said and disappeared from the door.

"Sam, this isn't going to be pleasant. The infection is pretty far advanced, I'm not sure we shouldn't take him to a hospital…."

A ragged voice interrupted them. "No…no hospitals…" Dean gasped out.

"Dean, if you need…" Sam started. Dean cut him off immediately.

"No, Sam! It's a bullet wound…they have to report…those…no hospitals…" Dean said through the waves of nausea now rolling through his gut.

Sam's mouth dropped open and he stared at Dean in confusion. When had Dean gotten himself shot?

TBC…

Author's Note: Sorry it's been a while since I posted on this. I think I'll be able to post more quickly now. Thanks to all you wonderful people who reviewed the last chapter…hope this makes up for the absence of more chapters. I have a really clear idea where this is headed now…that'll help. The boys are going to have to deal with the fall out of the demon possession and then find where those pesky demons have gotten off to. This will involve information from Ash and get them one step closer to tracking them down.

Please Review: I know I've been off about posting on this story, so let me know if you're still interested in seeing it finished.