Dean didn't know what to do with himself. He had a week to wait until Dr. O'Brien woke Sam from his coma and he found out just how badly damaged his brother would be.
He stayed with Sam as long as could as visiting hours allowed. At night, he stayed in the motel across the street, his room giving him a view of the hospital.
For seven days and nights he prayed that Sam would pull through and by some miracle he'd recover. He knew there was no way to restore his brother's lost right foot, but he was determined Sam would keep his left arm.
The first night, he called Bobby. He didn't know what else to do and needed some support. After the grizzled hunter cussed both brothers out for being as stupid as to try and dig up a grave in the middle of a thunderstorm, Bobby offered to drive to the hospital. Dean insisted that he would be fine on his own but asked Bobby if he and Sam could stay with him while his sibling recovered.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Bobby had replied.
W
Dean set aside the National Geographic magazine he was flipping through when Dr. O'Brien walked into the room early on the morning on the eighth day, a needle in his hand.
"I'm going to add this to his IV," the doctor explained to the hunter, "And this will wake your brother up gradually. It could take a few hours but he should be conscious by this evening."
Dean nodded silently and watched, fascinated as the doctor added the drug to the port in the IV line.
"A nurse will come to check on Sam every hour to see how he is doing," Dr. O'Brien deposited the spent needle in the sharps container on the bedside table, "But if you see anything, use the call bell to let us know."
"I will, Doctor," Dean told him and reached out to hold his brother's uninjured hand.
W
The first indication that Sam was waking up came just after his brother had scarfed down a soggy sandwich he'd picked up from the cafeteria. The smell of old egg salad filled the room- much to Dean's chagrin- as late afternoon sunlight poured from the window and pooled on the crisp white linens covering his brother's broken and beaten body.
Tossing the cellophane wrapper from the sandwich into the trash can by the bed, Dean paused, hand still hanging in the air, as the blankets on top of his brother began to shift.
Eyes sharp, Dean watched with bated breath as Sam's legs moved up and down beneath the covers for a moment or two before going still again.
Leaning forward, the elder hunter reached out and squeezed his brother's hand encouragingly.
W
A half an hour later, Sam moved his uninjured arm. The limb flopped limply against the blankets. Dean carefully watched to see if his left arm would do the same; it didn't. Sam turned his head to one side and groaned but remained asleep.
"Take your time, Sammy," Dean whispered to his brother, "You're in no hurry."
Although he wanted more than anything for his brother to wake up, he knew his brother would be a great deal of pain when he did. Dean just hoped that Dr. O'Brien would be quick in responding with some strong painkillers when his brother needed them.
W
Just as night was beginning to fall, Sam opened his eyes for the first time since closing them in that lonely hilltop cemetery.
Dean shoved his dinner out of the way and leaned forward expectantly.
"Sammy," he murmured, "Hey, Sammy, it's okay."
Glazed hazel eyes stared straight through him and a bolt of fear went through Dean's heart. Almost without thinking about it his hand groped for the call bell and his thumb jabbed the red button a half a dozen times before a nurse hurried into the room.
"He's awake," Dean told the nurse and she nodded, "I'll page Dr. O'Brien right away."
"Sammy," Dean murmured and reached out to hold his brother's hand, "It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here."
The younger hunter closed his eyes again and groaned. Dean frowned and looked down. His brother's hand was trembling in his.
He's in pain, Dean thought.
"The doctor's on his way," the elder hunter assured his sibling, "He'll give you the good stuff; just hold on a little longer."
Moments later, the door to the room opened and Dr. O'Brien stepped inside, moving right up to the side of the bed.
"Sam? I'm Dr. O'Brien," he said, leaning down and peering at his patient, "Can you hear me?"
Sam's eyes opened slowly.
"You're in a hospital," the doctor explained, "You were struck by lightning a week ago."
Sam regarded Dr. O'Brien with the same thousand-yard stare he had given his brother.
"Are you in any pain?"
Dean thought it was obvious to anyone with eyes that his brother was in pain but he kept his mouth shut. He supposed the doctor had to ask.
Sam did not respond. His uninjured hand remained firmly in Dean's grasp, trembling.
"I'm going to give him something," Dr. O'Brien turned to Dean when he spoke.
"Why's he like this?" Dean asked. Of course his brother had just woken up from a weeklong coma, but the lack of response in his sibling had shaken him.
"Pain?" Dr. O'Brien offered, "Or the effects of the lightning? Let's get some medication into him and see how he is in a few hours. I want to take him and run some tests before long but I want to make sure he's comfortable first."
Dean nodded and watched as the doctor left the room.
He gently squeezed his brother's hand. Sam's eyes opened yet again and though they still remained glazed, they fell on Dean's face.
"It's gonna be okay, Sammy," Dean murmured, "Don't worry. It's gonna be okay."
Author's Note:
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