Dean felt his mouth go dry and his heart rate increase at the doctor's words.
"What is it?" the hunter asked, his voice coming out in a whisper.
Dr. O'Brien moved the sheet away from Sam's left hand to reveal that the pinkie and ring fingers were both a dark purple hue.
"The damage to your brother's arm is worse than I thought. We will need to amputate those fingers as soon as possible to prevent anymore tissue death."
The doctor replaced the sheet, covering Sam's hand again.
"I had a colleague, a neurologist, take a look at Sam while I was running some tests and she discovered that the tremors he is experiencing are a direct result of the electricity that jolted his nervous system when he was struck. She doesn't think that the tremors will ease on their own and suggested trying him on benztropine to see if that helps."
Dean closed his eyes. He couldn't believe he was hearing this.
"You said there was good news," he told Dr. O'Brien.
"Yes," the doctor said, "There is good news."
Dean opened his eyes and looked at the older man, begging him to tell him something that would offset these devastating new developments.
"Your brother's memory was not impaired by his injuries. Both his long and short-term memories are intact."
Dean stared unbelieving at the doctor. This was the good news?
His brother had lost his foot, might lose his arm, and would have tremors like he had freaking Parkinson's disease for the rest of his life and the fact that his memory hadn't been scrambled was the only good news the doctor could give him?
Dean took a deep breath to keep his emotions in check.
"When are you going to do the surgery on Sam's arm?" he asked, very quietly.
"In the morning," Dr. O'Brien told him, "First thing."
Dean nodded and sat down, reaching out to grip his brother's uninjured right hand and squeeze the fingers that remained a healthy pink.
W
Dean decided not to call Bobby and let him know what the doctor had told him as he reluctantly returned to the room he was renting in the motel across the street from the hospital. At least, not until the morning, when Dr. O'Brien cut more pieces from his brother's injured limbs.
He wanted a beer- or maybe something stronger- but instead walked down sidewalk to the vending machine and bought himself a Pepsi.
"Goddamn it Sammy," Dean muttered to himself as he sat in front of the blank television screen, "Why did we have to keep digging that grave? Why didn't we just get back into the car when we saw it was raining too hard? Why didn't we just stop?"
Author's Note:
Thanks to Zeldalsis, NextAirAvatar, TXKimsonFan, Trucklady53, bagelcat1, whatnosheep, elliereynolds777, AlxM, need2no, reannablue, mandancie, Kas3y, jensensgirl3, TweetyRulz, and Katlover98 for reviewing.
Please take a moment to review and I'll try and update again really soon!
