Faith, Love, and Sin - Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Though Dean made the trip back to Blue Earth in less than half the time he’d made the trip away, Sam had still already been in the hospital for close to twelve hours by the time he got there. He made at least a dozen calls to Pastor Jim, and all he knew for sure was that Sam was alive, but hadn’t regained consciousness since the accident.
He reached St. James Medical Center and turned the corner into the parking lot so quickly he was fairly certain two of the Impala’s tires left the ground. As much as he wanted to run full speed to his brother, Father Winchester managed to force himself into a very fast walk after he stopped at the information desk and got Sam’s room number and directions.
When he at last stood before his brother and saw with his own eyes the rise and fall of Sam’s chest, Dean was finally able to let out the breath he’d been holding since Pastor Jim’s phone call. Dean took in the IV inserted into Sam’s arm and the oxygen tubing in his nostrils and all the wires connecting him to the monitors. When Dean’s gaze reached the ropes and weights of traction attached to both of Sam’s legs with metal pins, the fatigue of the trip and the all-consuming panic he’d felt settled into his knees forcing him to sit. He pulled the chair from the corner of the room closer to Sam’s bed.
“Can’t lose you again, Sammy. Just got you back,” he whispered. His eyes burned and he realized his cheeks were wet with tears. Dean wiped the back of his hand over his eyes and bowed his head, saying every prayer he’d ever learned and begging God to let him keep his little brother.
A gentle knock on the casing of the open door interrupted him and he looked up to see the caring face of Pastor Jim. He stood from his chair and let himself be wrapped in a hug drawing the strength and love the older man readily offered. “Jim, what happened?”
“Sam volunteered to help repaint the barn, and we were about halfway through the second wall. He climbed up the ladder and as he reached for the paint bucket, the rung just snapped. He fell-“ Pastor Jim’s voice cracked and he paused to take a steadying breath. “He fell 15 feet, Dean.”
Dean’s green eyes widened and his mouth fell open. His brain couldn’t even process the information quickly enough to form a question.
“It was an old ladder. I’m sorry, Dean, should have replaced it last year. I’m so sorry.”
Dean placed a reassuring hand on Pastor Jim’s shoulder. “It’s alright. This isn’t your fault, Jim. It was an accident.” Dean drew a slow deep breath and dug for the courage to ask the harder question. “What are his…? What’s wro-“
Jim didn’t force him to look for the words to finish his query. “He broke both his legs, one is a pretty bad comminuted fracture - basically it was broken in several places. The other, they call it an open fracture - the bone came through the skin, so after they set it, they had to stitch him up. He’s getting IV antibiotics to prevent an infection. He’s in traction to get the bones back into position, and then he’ll have surgery to place screws and plates to hold everything in place for healing.”
Dean ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Will he be able to walk again?”
Pastor Jim nodded. “Yes, he’ll need extensive physical therapy, and they say he may have a limp, but they don’t see any reason he won’t be able to walk. But, Dean…”
Dean’s gaze had fallen on his brother, taking comfort again in the steady rise and fall that came with each breath, but when Jim stopped speaking Dean looked up at him again.
“Dean, he hit his head on the way down and he has a pretty bad concussion. He’s been unconscious since the fall. His scan looks clear, but they won’t know for sure about any brain damage until he wakes up.”
“But he is gonna wake up?” When Jim didn’t answer immediately Dean grabbed him by his arms and shook him. “Isn’t he?”
“They, they say they see no reason for him not to. But for now, we just have to wait.”
Dean said nothing for a full minute, just looked from Sam to Jim and back again before pulling his chair back up to Sam’s bed and sitting down. “If the only thing I can do is wait, I’m waiting right here.”
Pastor Jim thought about suggesting that Dean go home, get a shower and rest himself before settling in with Sam, but he could already see how futile that would be. “Okay, son. Is there anything I can get you?” Dean shook his head. “Alright, since you are here with Sam, I am going to go home, keep an eye on the rest of the boys. I’ll be back in the morning, with a change of clothes for you.” He indicated Dean’s travel stained garments and Dean gave him a weak smile in return. “You let me know if you need anything else.” He squeezed Dean’s shoulder once and patted him on the back before leaving.
Once Pastor Jim left, Dean leaned forward in his chair again. His hand drifted forward and hovered over Sam’s. He hesitated for a moment, considering boundaries and duty, but in the end he wrapped his hand around Sam’s slender fingers. He rested his head against the raised side rail of the bed and that’s how he fell asleep.
* * * * *
Sam remained unconscious for an additional 39 hours, and Dean was there for every minute. Pastor Jim tried everything short of dragging the young priest out by his ear, but Dean refused to leave. He was convinced to take a quick shower and change as long as Jim swore to get him the second Sam showed any sign of waking.
Dean was sitting at Sam’s side when his eyelids began to flutter and his lips twitched. A small sound in Sam’s throat caught Dean’s attention and he watched as the young man’s brow creased slightly, and saw the tremors along the delicate muscles around his eyes.
“Sammy?” He asked in a whispered plea. The covers of the hazel eyes Dean had been missing, scrunched tight and then slowly, incrementally lifted.
Sam blinked carefully a few times, and then surprise seemed to register in those ever-changing orbs. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a hoarse croak emerged. He licked his lips, swallowed and tried again. “Father Winchester?”
“I’m here, Sammy. I’m here.”
Sam frowned and started to speak again, but this time it ended in a cough and Dean reached for the water on the bedside table and helped Sam drink from it. “Why are you here?” Sam asked once his throat was moistened.
Now Dean frowned, “Why wouldn’t I be here? Sam, you…do you know where you are?”
Sam’s brow furrowed and his head tilted, and then for the first time he looked around the room, taking in the monitors and IV pole…and finally the scaffolding, ropes and pulleys of the traction.
“A hospital?”
It was clearly more question than answer and Father Winchester took a deep breath to quell the fear that crept through his veins as the words brain damage whispered around the back of his mind. “Yes, you’re in the hospital.” Dean unconsciously squeezed the hand he was still holding, and Sam immediately looked down to where they were connected. Suddenly aware of the way the small touch crossed a line, Father Winchester loosened his grip and began to pull away, but Sam turned his hand over, wrapping those long fingers around his older brother’s hand. When Dean looked up, a faint but sure smile rested on Sam’s dry lips.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“There was an accident at the school. You were-“
“I was painting the barn.”
Dean smiled, relief washing over him that Sam’s brain function seemed to be intact. “You were, and the ladder broke. You fell and-“ Dean cut himself off as Sam’s face twisted into a grimace of pain and he clutched at the blankets over his legs.
“It hurts! Dean, hurts, so bad. Wha - God! What happened?”
Seeing his brother in so much pain snapped Father Winchester into action. He hit the call bell for the nurse, but when no one appeared immediately, he ran to the door, calling down the hallway. “Can we get some help in here? He’s awake, and he’s in pain!”
Sam’s nurse came hurrying down the hallway a minute later, vial and syringe in hand. She pushed past Dean, smiling at Sam in the bed. “Hey, Sam. Nice to see your eyes, can you look right here at my nose?” Dean watched as she shined a small light into Sam’s eyes, and listened as she asked him a few questions. “Alright, Sam. I’m going to give you something in your IV for the pain; you should feel much better in a few minutes.” She drew the liquid from the vial and then pushed it into the line connected to Sam’s arm. When the grimace started to soften from Sam’s face, Dean let out a breath.
“Now that you’re awake, I’m going to go get your doctor.” The nurse smiled at Sam once more before she left.
Sam looked up at Father Winchester. “I fell?” Dean nodded. “So, what’s wrong with me? What’s all this?” Sam asked waving his hands at all the traction equipment.
Dean dropped his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. He took a deep breath and as he opened his mouth to speak, the nurse returned with the doctor. Dean was relieved to be off the hook. He preferred the supportive role over having to break the news to Sam about his physical injuries and the path that lie ahead. He sat at Sam’s bedside as the doctor introduced himself as Dr. Birch and reviewed the extent of the breaks to Sam’s legs and the implications of the concussion.
“The good news is that your cognitive function seems to be intact, which means there is likely going to be little chance of long term complications from the concussion.” Dr. Birch paused, his tone just a little more somber as he continued. “The fractures to your legs will require an extensive recovery I’m afraid, Sam. The open fracture of the right should heal without complications. Even though it looks pretty nasty, it was a clean break and it set easily. The other leg, though, there was a lot of damage to the bone. We’ll perform surgery, put in some hardware to hold the bones in place until they heal.”
At the mention of surgery, Sam’s hand reached for Dean’s again and Dean allowed the touch. He hadn’t forgotten all the reasons he shouldn’t allow physical contact, but the near-loss of his brother had put things in a whole new perspective.
Sam’s eyes were wide and Dean could read the tension in his muscles. “What does that mean? How am I gonna walk with two broken legs?” Sam stopped and his eyes grew terrified. “I will walk again, won’t I?” Dean squeezed Sam’s hand.
“I’m going to be honest. A lot of that depends on you, Sam. You will need a lot of physical therapy, but if you put in the work, do the exercises, there is absolutely no reason you won’t walk again. It may be with crutches or a cane for a bit, but you’re young and strong, with support I know you can do this.”
Father Winchester looked at Sam, whose face seemed paler than it had a few minutes ago. “He can,” Dean said. “He’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.” Sam’s head snapped toward his older brother and his eyes relaxed when he was met with Dean’s warm emerald gaze. Dean smiled at his brother and added, “The kid’s got a determination to do whatever he puts his mind to. And he’s got my support however he needs it.”
Sam blushed and ducked his head. He was more used to insults and castigations than compliments. The sincerity in Dean’s tone went straight to that place in his chest that had ached in the most pleasant way since the day they kissed. His brother’s belief in him also made him want to not only face what was ahead of him, but beat it. Sam looked back up at the doctor. “When is the surgery?”
“We’ll perform the first one very soon. Probably the day after tomorrow. The swelling has already improved and we’ll have the anesthesia and neurology teams check you over to make sure you’re clear for surgery.”
“First one?” Dean asked.
Dr. Birch smiled. “Yes, we’ll place the hardware in the right leg. The left leg is going to need more work, so at first we’ll place what’s called an external fixator…it looks like metal scaffolding around your leg, and it will be attached to the bones through the skin with metal pins.” The doctor did not miss the way Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Like I said, Sam. This is going to be a long road, let’s just take it one step at a time; and right now you need your rest. I’ll be back to see you first thing in the morning.”
His smile was warm and reassuring and it put Sam back at ease. As the doctor left the room, Sam lay back against his pillows, still clutching Dean’s hand in his. He pinched his bottom lip between his teeth as he attempted to process all the information just thrown at him without crying.
Father Winchester watched quietly as Sam let his mind wrap around everything Dean had been thinking about since he’d first been told about Sam’s injuries. Sam caught the bow of his bottom lip between his teeth and Dean’s breath was suddenly hard to find. He’d seen the teen perform that move so many times, but somehow, in this moment, when it was a genuine expression of fear and frustration and not a put-upon attempt at distracting the object of his desire, it had much greater impact. Dean found himself clutching his free hand around his own leg to keep from reaching out to touch that pink lip.
“It’s gonna be okay, Sammy.” Sam’s head turned to face him, tears gathering in the swirling hazel of his eyes. “It’s going to be okay, and I am going to be right here with you.” Dean couldn’t be sure what made him do it, but he brought Sam’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the knuckles.
Sam would have smiled if he hadn’t been so shocked by the warm press of those full lips to his hand. “Thank you, Fath- Dean. That means…it means everything.” Sam wanted more than anything to lean over and kiss Dean’s mouth again, but he was afraid to spook Dean, so he settled for rubbing his thumb over the back of the older man’s hand. A thought formed in his mind and though he was fully appreciative of his brother being there with him, he had to know something. “How long have I been here?”
“Almost two days. Why?”
“And have you been here the whole time?” Dean nodded. “Oh, Dean. You need to go. You need your rest too. It means so much to me that you’re here for me, but really, you need sleep and food, and, and…a shower and a change of clothes.” Sam wrinkled his nose and smiled at the last.
“I did shower. And change. Pastor Jim sort of insisted. I can’t leave you here alone, Sam. I won’t.”
Sam saw the determined set of Dean’s jaw and wondered if his own looked that way when he dug his heels in like that. “Look, I’m fine right now. I just had my pain meds, I know what’s going on. At least go home, eat, get a real shower, followed by clean clothes. You can come back tonight if you want.” Dean opened his mouth, no doubt to protest more, but Sam cut him off. “I’ll still be here, not like I’m going anywhere.” Sam smiled and Dean chuckled.
“No, I guess you’re not. You sure? Really sure you’ll be okay for a few hours?” Sam nodded. “Okay, then.” Dean stood, but found he was reluctant to let go of Sam’s hand, and more surprisingly, he really wanted to kiss the younger man. His urges warred with his guilt about priestly vows, teacherly duties…and incest. His actions ended up somewhere in the middle. He let go of Sam’s hand and leaned over the bed to hug his brother, his free hand carded through Sam’s long hair, and he felt Sam place the lightest of kisses to the stubble on his cheek.
* * * * *
Father Winchester returned a few hours later, freshly washed and shaved, dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a soft grey t-shirt. Sam’s breath caught at the sight. It was rare to see the priest outside his usual uniform, and it only reminded him how gorgeous his brother was. The definition of his muscles was evident through the thin cotton and when Dean turned to set his duffel on the floor Sam saw the way the jeans hugged the curve of his ass. Sam forced himself to look away; it would not be good to tent his hospital sheets with an ill-timed erection.
“Better?” Dean asked as he pulled the chair back up to Sam’s bed and sat down.
Sam made a show of sniffing the air. “Much.”
Dean leaned down to his bag reaching inside as he spoke. “I thought you could use something to engage your mind.” Sam rolled his eyes expecting a text book to emerge, but what he saw was an old Classics Illustrated comic book. Dean held it up and Sam read the cover. “Knights of the Round Table?”
Dean smiled. “Whadya think?”
Sam laughed a little and nodded. “I love Sir Galahad.” He reached for it, but Dean yanked it back.
“Nope, you lay back and relax. Gonna read it to you.”
Sam’s smile softened. “Ok.” He settled himself back into the pillows and listened to his brother read. As he watched Dean’s face move through all the emotions of the story he was reading, Sam felt that tug at his heart again. He was really falling for this man, and he had no idea what to do with that. The flirting, the seducing and going big for the reaction, getting caught up in the game of the chase, that he knew how to do. Falling in love, building an honest and true relationship? He was completely out of his league there. He shook off his thoughts and focused on the story of Sir Galahad’s quest for the grail. Soon he felt his eyes begin to drift shut and he let the rise and fall of Dean’s deep voice lull him to sleep.
* * * * *
The next day, Sam was cleared for surgery, and the following day he was taken into the operating room just before 9am. Dean walked alongside his bed until they reached the doors that separated the sterile surgery area. Sam grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Thanks again.” Sam smiled up at his brother, and when he saw the worry etched into that face he added, “I’ll be right back, Dean, I promise.”
Those words spread like buckshot, hitting him in the gut and the heart all at once. He’d heard that sentence from John so many times and it had always been laced with hope and doubt. But Sam had never made that or any promise to Dean before and the genuine conviction in those slanted eyes made Dean need to believe Sam would never break his word.
“K, and I’ll be right here when you get back, Sammy.” Dean leaned down and placed a kiss to Sam’s forehead and then backed up so they could push his brother through the doors.
Father Winchester paced the waiting room for over an hour, then let himself be convinced to go to the cafeteria for some lunch. He pushed his food around his plate for about 20 minutes before he’d had enough and pushed away from the table. He couldn’t go back to that waiting room, and besides all the nurses had told him Sam would go to the recovery room briefly, then be taken back to his own room. He wandered for a bit and found himself in Sam’s hospital room, poking through the things on the bedside table and searching for his brother’s scent underneath the bleached sterile hospital smell. When his gaze fell on the book he’d been reading to Sam, he collapsed in the chair and flipped it open in his lap.
“Father Winchester?” He must have dozed off so he hadn’t seen the nurse appear in the doorway and her voice startled him.
“Yeah?”
“Sam’s been brought to the recovery room. He’s still sleeping off the anesthesia, but you can go see him now.”
“He’s okay?”
She smiled and nodded. “He’s just fine.”
“Thank you.” Relief washed over him and he stood and stretched. A glance at his watch showed it was nearly 4pm. “Is it really that late?” The nurse nodded. “Is that…is that normal? For Sam’s kinda surgery I mean.”
“It’s not unusual for these orthopedic surgeries to take hours, and Sam’s break was pretty…complicated. I’m not surprised it took so long.”
“Oh. Okay. So, which way to the recovery room?”
Dean followed the nurse’s directions and soon found himself standing over Sam’s bed again. He ran a hand over the young man’s hair, and when an aide brought him a chair, he pulled it close and took Sam’s hand in his as he waited for his brother to rouse. It was an eerie echo of how he’d spent the first days at the hospital.
Before long, Sam opened bleary eyes that barely seemed to see Dean. The nurse assured Dean that it was normal for patients after surgery, and Dean waited patiently as Sam wove in and out of consciousness. Eventually the nurse deemed him stable enough to return to his room and Dean walked alongside the bed as they pushed it down the halls. As soon as the bed and Sam were settled back into place Dean took up his position in the chair at Sam’s side once again.
As he watched Sam sleep, he appreciated the fact that all the traction equipment was gone. The blanket tented oddly over Sam’s left leg, and though Dean wasn’t ready to look at it, he knew that underneath was the scaffolding thing the doctor had talked about. On the other side of the bed, Dean could see the stark white of a plaster cast on the right leg. Dean rested his head on the bed next to Sam’s torso, and fell asleep so quickly he didn’t even notice he’d begun to drift.
* * * * *
Sam felt like he’d been trying to struggle his way to consciousness for days, but had no way of knowing how much time had passed. There were a blur of images running behind his closed eyes, many of them featuring Father Winchester’s beautiful face, and he was fairly sure most of them were real memories of his brother at his side after the surgery. What finally pulled him awake was the feeling of the bed jerking beneath his side.
He blinked his eyes awake to find Dean sleeping with his head and arm resting on the bed next to Sam. At first he smiled, happy that Dean had wanted to be so close to him, but as soon as he saw the way Dean’s face was twisted, his heart lurched. His brother’s mouth was screwed up in a grimace and his brow was scrunched tight, Sam could see how Dean’s eyes twitched behind the lids and he knew his brother was dreaming. Dean’s head moved and his arm lifted from the bed and Sam understood the feeling that had woken him. He guessed that his brother must be having a nightmare and when grunts and moans and aborted words started leaking from Dean’s mouth Sam figured it must be a bad one.
Sam placed his hand gently on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean?” He said quietly, moving his brother ever so slightly. The blonde head jerked on the bed again and Dean moaned out the single word “No,” but full of such pain it hurt Sam just to hear it. He shook Dean harder, “Dean. Dean, please. Time to wake up.” Dean’s head began whipping from side to side on the bed and his arm thrashed up so quickly that Sam nearly caught it across the nose. He ducked then shook his brother in earnest. “Dean! Wake up!”
Dean awoke, sitting up and shouting “Sammy! No!”
As Dean came to full awareness, he registered Sam’s face in front of him, eyes wide and he slowly realized he’d been having the nightmare again. His heart raced, and though he knew it wasn’t real, it was just a dream and the real fire hadn’t taken his brother, his mind was still fogged from the overwhelming emotion of the dream, so similar to the fear of loss that had set him pacing for much of the day. He reached forward, hands framing Sam’s beautiful face, his thumb brushed over the perfect pink bow of Sam’s lower lip. Forgetting everything but his absolute need for Sam, Dean leaned forward and captured Sam’s mouth in a kiss.
Sam hummed in surprise for just a second, and then his hands found their way to Dean’s head, fingers pushing through the short hair as his mouth moved with Dean’s. When Dean opened his mouth and Sam felt his tongue trace the seam of his own lips, he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped as he opened to allow his brother access.
The sound of Sam’s moan pulled Father Winchester back to reality. What was he doing? This was his student, his brother. The thought that he should not be doing this pounded at his brain, but was quickly chased away by the sensation of Sam’s soft tongue tentatively pushing into his mouth. And just for this moment, he didn’t care how wrong this was, he would confess tomorrow. But now, right now, he just lost himself to kissing this boy.
Dean twined his tongue around Sam’s and sucked gently, drawing a second moan from Sam, whose hands pulled him closer. Sam nipped at Dean’s full bottom lip, then sucked it into his mouth and this time the moan came from Dean’s throat. Dean freed his lips from Sam’s teeth and slotted his mouth more tightly against his brother’s. Their tongues found each other again and every pass of one slick muscle against the other drew each man deeper into the shared pleasure.
When Dean felt Sam’s hands curl into fists clutching his shirt, reality broke through again. He couldn’t let this go any further. Not here, not like this…and maybe not ever. He gently pulled back from Sam’s lips, a string of mixed saliva pulled between their reddened, kiss-swollen lips and the picture Sam painted sent an ache through Dean’s blood. “Sammy,” he whispered.
Sam’s hand molded to Dean’s cheek. “ ‘m here, Dean. Right here. Nightmare?” Dean nodded. “Wanna talk about it?” Sam asked.
“It’s the fire. I…I have it a lot. Not really clear, just heat and flames…and a baby crying.”
“The baby was me?” Dean nodded again. “And I died?” Dean looked down and nodded again. Sam tilted Dean’s chin up again. “I didn’t die Dean. I’m here now. Alive.” He grabbed Dean’s hand and pressed it to his chest over his heart. “See?”
Dean let his hand rest over Sam’s beating heart for a moment, then he carefully pulled out of Sam’s touch and sat back in his chair. “I’m sorry, Sam. Didn’t need to wake you like that. You’re the one in the hospital bed.”
“It’s okay Dean. I’m fine.” Seeing that whatever spell had brought the kiss on was broken, Sam allowed a change in subject. “Though, I wouldn’t object to the nurse bringing me some pain meds.” Dean smiled and nodded as he pressed the call bell.
* * * * *
Days passed and neither Sam nor Dean brought up the nightmare or the kiss again. Sam thought about it all the time, the way Den’s plush lips had felt against his, and how, for just a moment, Dean seemed to actually allow himself to experience the feelings Sam had suspected he had all along. He longed for more of those moments, more of Dean’s touch, but somehow he knew that if he pushed, it would only damage the tenuous thread drawing them slowly together.
Once Sam was stable, and the fear of losing him had eased from Dean’s chest, he began going home at night. He returned each morning though, often before Sam was even awake. Since Sam was stuck in the hospital, and Dean refused to have him fall behind in his schoolwork, Father Winchester brought Sam’s books and lessons to him.
Sam showed a whole new commitment to his education. It was fueled by both his pre-fall vow to turn things around, and his desire to impress Father Winchester. His new routine became waking to Dean bringing coffee and usually breakfast. After they ate, Sam would do the physical therapy exercises with the nurse. Then it was lunch, and in the afternoon, lessons with Father Winchester. At some point in the day there was always the need for him to get washed up, which given his limitations in movement and reach, meant receiving some help from the nurse or aide. He was fairly sure he’d caught Dean stealing a look at least once or twice, and he smiled to himself. Guess it was only fair since he had seen Dean’s ass, that Dean should get a look at his.
* * * * *
Despite all Father Winchester’s efforts to ignore his feelings and pretend he’d never kissed Sam, he relived that kiss daily. He had gone straight to confession the next day, and he’d done the prescribed penance, but the impure thoughts? They were not going anywhere. He tried to push down the urges, the flashes of fantasies that would strike at the most inopportune times. Most times he succeeded in keeping himself in control, but there were small slips, like accidentally walking into the room early when Sam was getting his sponge-bath, or looks that lingered a little too long, little unnecessary touches that he just couldn’t stop.
Sam, for his part, seemed to have made an honest change. He was working fiercely on his lessons, and his grades were steadily improving. If he kept up the hard work, combined with his natural intelligence, there was still a chance he could earn a scholarship for college. The less Sam flirted, and the more he applied himself, the more attracted Dean felt to him. Instead of the smirks, he got to see Sam’s real smile, open and full of joy…framed by dimples.
Days strung together into weeks until a month passed, and it got harder and harder to ignore and deny his feelings. Sam occupied some part of his thoughts every minute of the day. His heart lifted and he couldn’t stop the smile that curled his full lips every time he walked back through the door to Sam’s room. He ached to be closer to Sam, but this wasn’t really about sex at all. Father Winchester was falling in love.
* * * * *
Sam’s cast came off in early July. The external device that had been holding his leg together had been removed a few weeks before that, and he’d had several more surgeries in the meantime. Dr. Birch came to speak to Sam and Dean about a week later, saying it was time for Sam to move to the next phase of his recovery.
“We’ve done all we can do with surgery, Sam. And you’ve been doing really well in therapy. I have no doubts you’ll be walking again, and probably sooner than you think. But, you need more intensive therapy, from people who specialize in that part of treatment.” Dr. Birch held out a pamphlet which Sam took from him. “This is the best rehab facility in the state. I think you should consider going there.”
Sam looked through the pamphlet, taking in the pictures and explanations of the facilities. It all looked perfect, until he closed it and looked at the address on the back. “But, this place is like 4 hours away.” Dr. Birch nodded. “But, but…Father Winchester, he’s been helping me keep up with my school work. That’s too far for him to drive back and forth. I can’t go here.” Sam tried to hand the pamphlet back to the surgeon.
“But, Sam, this is the best place for you. They specialize in orthopedic rehab.”
“Find somewhere else. It’s too far.”
“Dr. Birch, could you give us some time to discuss this?” Dean asked.
“Of course…and I’ll gather some information about secondary facilities too.” Father Winchester smiled and thanked him and the doctor left them alone.
“Sam, I think you should go there.” Dean said softly. “You’ve worked so hard to be able to walk…this is going to affect the rest of your life.”
The panicked look in Sam’s eyes turned to devastation. “So will being separated from you. Again.”
Dean swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat. He could not stand that look in Sam’s hazel eyes, nor the emotion that cracked his voice. And if Dean were to be truly honest with himself, he did not want to be separated from Sam either. He closed his eyes as he tried to get a handle on the swirl of emotions and thoughts tearing through him. He wasn’t going to give Sam up, not now.
“Okay. Okay, Sammy. I’ll come with you then.”
Sam’s head jerked back in surprise as his eyes widened. “You will?”
Dean nodded.
“You sure? What about the school?”
“It’s summer, most of the boys will go home. Pastor Jim can handle the few that are left for a couple of months. And there are a few other people that could help as well.” Dean paused and ducked his head. “I want you to get the best treatment out there…and I….I don’t want-“ Dean stopped and looked up, the hazel gaze fixed on him was full of hope. “I don’t want you to have to be alone. Not anymore.”
Sam reached for his hand. “Thank you, Dean.”
Chapter 7
Though Dean made the trip back to Blue Earth in less than half the time he’d made the trip away, Sam had still already been in the hospital for close to twelve hours by the time he got there. He made at least a dozen calls to Pastor Jim, and all he knew for sure was that Sam was alive, but hadn’t regained consciousness since the accident.
He reached St. James Medical Center and turned the corner into the parking lot so quickly he was fairly certain two of the Impala’s tires left the ground. As much as he wanted to run full speed to his brother, Father Winchester managed to force himself into a very fast walk after he stopped at the information desk and got Sam’s room number and directions.
When he at last stood before his brother and saw with his own eyes the rise and fall of Sam’s chest, Dean was finally able to let out the breath he’d been holding since Pastor Jim’s phone call. Dean took in the IV inserted into Sam’s arm and the oxygen tubing in his nostrils and all the wires connecting him to the monitors. When Dean’s gaze reached the ropes and weights of traction attached to both of Sam’s legs with metal pins, the fatigue of the trip and the all-consuming panic he’d felt settled into his knees forcing him to sit. He pulled the chair from the corner of the room closer to Sam’s bed.
“Can’t lose you again, Sammy. Just got you back,” he whispered. His eyes burned and he realized his cheeks were wet with tears. Dean wiped the back of his hand over his eyes and bowed his head, saying every prayer he’d ever learned and begging God to let him keep his little brother.
A gentle knock on the casing of the open door interrupted him and he looked up to see the caring face of Pastor Jim. He stood from his chair and let himself be wrapped in a hug drawing the strength and love the older man readily offered. “Jim, what happened?”
“Sam volunteered to help repaint the barn, and we were about halfway through the second wall. He climbed up the ladder and as he reached for the paint bucket, the rung just snapped. He fell-“ Pastor Jim’s voice cracked and he paused to take a steadying breath. “He fell 15 feet, Dean.”
Dean’s green eyes widened and his mouth fell open. His brain couldn’t even process the information quickly enough to form a question.
“It was an old ladder. I’m sorry, Dean, should have replaced it last year. I’m so sorry.”
Dean placed a reassuring hand on Pastor Jim’s shoulder. “It’s alright. This isn’t your fault, Jim. It was an accident.” Dean drew a slow deep breath and dug for the courage to ask the harder question. “What are his…? What’s wro-“
Jim didn’t force him to look for the words to finish his query. “He broke both his legs, one is a pretty bad comminuted fracture - basically it was broken in several places. The other, they call it an open fracture - the bone came through the skin, so after they set it, they had to stitch him up. He’s getting IV antibiotics to prevent an infection. He’s in traction to get the bones back into position, and then he’ll have surgery to place screws and plates to hold everything in place for healing.”
Dean ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Will he be able to walk again?”
Pastor Jim nodded. “Yes, he’ll need extensive physical therapy, and they say he may have a limp, but they don’t see any reason he won’t be able to walk. But, Dean…”
Dean’s gaze had fallen on his brother, taking comfort again in the steady rise and fall that came with each breath, but when Jim stopped speaking Dean looked up at him again.
“Dean, he hit his head on the way down and he has a pretty bad concussion. He’s been unconscious since the fall. His scan looks clear, but they won’t know for sure about any brain damage until he wakes up.”
“But he is gonna wake up?” When Jim didn’t answer immediately Dean grabbed him by his arms and shook him. “Isn’t he?”
“They, they say they see no reason for him not to. But for now, we just have to wait.”
Dean said nothing for a full minute, just looked from Sam to Jim and back again before pulling his chair back up to Sam’s bed and sitting down. “If the only thing I can do is wait, I’m waiting right here.”
Pastor Jim thought about suggesting that Dean go home, get a shower and rest himself before settling in with Sam, but he could already see how futile that would be. “Okay, son. Is there anything I can get you?” Dean shook his head. “Alright, since you are here with Sam, I am going to go home, keep an eye on the rest of the boys. I’ll be back in the morning, with a change of clothes for you.” He indicated Dean’s travel stained garments and Dean gave him a weak smile in return. “You let me know if you need anything else.” He squeezed Dean’s shoulder once and patted him on the back before leaving.
Once Pastor Jim left, Dean leaned forward in his chair again. His hand drifted forward and hovered over Sam’s. He hesitated for a moment, considering boundaries and duty, but in the end he wrapped his hand around Sam’s slender fingers. He rested his head against the raised side rail of the bed and that’s how he fell asleep.
* * * * *
Sam remained unconscious for an additional 39 hours, and Dean was there for every minute. Pastor Jim tried everything short of dragging the young priest out by his ear, but Dean refused to leave. He was convinced to take a quick shower and change as long as Jim swore to get him the second Sam showed any sign of waking.
Dean was sitting at Sam’s side when his eyelids began to flutter and his lips twitched. A small sound in Sam’s throat caught Dean’s attention and he watched as the young man’s brow creased slightly, and saw the tremors along the delicate muscles around his eyes.
“Sammy?” He asked in a whispered plea. The covers of the hazel eyes Dean had been missing, scrunched tight and then slowly, incrementally lifted.
Sam blinked carefully a few times, and then surprise seemed to register in those ever-changing orbs. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a hoarse croak emerged. He licked his lips, swallowed and tried again. “Father Winchester?”
“I’m here, Sammy. I’m here.”
Sam frowned and started to speak again, but this time it ended in a cough and Dean reached for the water on the bedside table and helped Sam drink from it. “Why are you here?” Sam asked once his throat was moistened.
Now Dean frowned, “Why wouldn’t I be here? Sam, you…do you know where you are?”
Sam’s brow furrowed and his head tilted, and then for the first time he looked around the room, taking in the monitors and IV pole…and finally the scaffolding, ropes and pulleys of the traction.
“A hospital?”
It was clearly more question than answer and Father Winchester took a deep breath to quell the fear that crept through his veins as the words brain damage whispered around the back of his mind. “Yes, you’re in the hospital.” Dean unconsciously squeezed the hand he was still holding, and Sam immediately looked down to where they were connected. Suddenly aware of the way the small touch crossed a line, Father Winchester loosened his grip and began to pull away, but Sam turned his hand over, wrapping those long fingers around his older brother’s hand. When Dean looked up, a faint but sure smile rested on Sam’s dry lips.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“There was an accident at the school. You were-“
“I was painting the barn.”
Dean smiled, relief washing over him that Sam’s brain function seemed to be intact. “You were, and the ladder broke. You fell and-“ Dean cut himself off as Sam’s face twisted into a grimace of pain and he clutched at the blankets over his legs.
“It hurts! Dean, hurts, so bad. Wha - God! What happened?”
Seeing his brother in so much pain snapped Father Winchester into action. He hit the call bell for the nurse, but when no one appeared immediately, he ran to the door, calling down the hallway. “Can we get some help in here? He’s awake, and he’s in pain!”
Sam’s nurse came hurrying down the hallway a minute later, vial and syringe in hand. She pushed past Dean, smiling at Sam in the bed. “Hey, Sam. Nice to see your eyes, can you look right here at my nose?” Dean watched as she shined a small light into Sam’s eyes, and listened as she asked him a few questions. “Alright, Sam. I’m going to give you something in your IV for the pain; you should feel much better in a few minutes.” She drew the liquid from the vial and then pushed it into the line connected to Sam’s arm. When the grimace started to soften from Sam’s face, Dean let out a breath.
“Now that you’re awake, I’m going to go get your doctor.” The nurse smiled at Sam once more before she left.
Sam looked up at Father Winchester. “I fell?” Dean nodded. “So, what’s wrong with me? What’s all this?” Sam asked waving his hands at all the traction equipment.
Dean dropped his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. He took a deep breath and as he opened his mouth to speak, the nurse returned with the doctor. Dean was relieved to be off the hook. He preferred the supportive role over having to break the news to Sam about his physical injuries and the path that lie ahead. He sat at Sam’s bedside as the doctor introduced himself as Dr. Birch and reviewed the extent of the breaks to Sam’s legs and the implications of the concussion.
“The good news is that your cognitive function seems to be intact, which means there is likely going to be little chance of long term complications from the concussion.” Dr. Birch paused, his tone just a little more somber as he continued. “The fractures to your legs will require an extensive recovery I’m afraid, Sam. The open fracture of the right should heal without complications. Even though it looks pretty nasty, it was a clean break and it set easily. The other leg, though, there was a lot of damage to the bone. We’ll perform surgery, put in some hardware to hold the bones in place until they heal.”
At the mention of surgery, Sam’s hand reached for Dean’s again and Dean allowed the touch. He hadn’t forgotten all the reasons he shouldn’t allow physical contact, but the near-loss of his brother had put things in a whole new perspective.
Sam’s eyes were wide and Dean could read the tension in his muscles. “What does that mean? How am I gonna walk with two broken legs?” Sam stopped and his eyes grew terrified. “I will walk again, won’t I?” Dean squeezed Sam’s hand.
“I’m going to be honest. A lot of that depends on you, Sam. You will need a lot of physical therapy, but if you put in the work, do the exercises, there is absolutely no reason you won’t walk again. It may be with crutches or a cane for a bit, but you’re young and strong, with support I know you can do this.”
Father Winchester looked at Sam, whose face seemed paler than it had a few minutes ago. “He can,” Dean said. “He’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.” Sam’s head snapped toward his older brother and his eyes relaxed when he was met with Dean’s warm emerald gaze. Dean smiled at his brother and added, “The kid’s got a determination to do whatever he puts his mind to. And he’s got my support however he needs it.”
Sam blushed and ducked his head. He was more used to insults and castigations than compliments. The sincerity in Dean’s tone went straight to that place in his chest that had ached in the most pleasant way since the day they kissed. His brother’s belief in him also made him want to not only face what was ahead of him, but beat it. Sam looked back up at the doctor. “When is the surgery?”
“We’ll perform the first one very soon. Probably the day after tomorrow. The swelling has already improved and we’ll have the anesthesia and neurology teams check you over to make sure you’re clear for surgery.”
“First one?” Dean asked.
Dr. Birch smiled. “Yes, we’ll place the hardware in the right leg. The left leg is going to need more work, so at first we’ll place what’s called an external fixator…it looks like metal scaffolding around your leg, and it will be attached to the bones through the skin with metal pins.” The doctor did not miss the way Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Like I said, Sam. This is going to be a long road, let’s just take it one step at a time; and right now you need your rest. I’ll be back to see you first thing in the morning.”
His smile was warm and reassuring and it put Sam back at ease. As the doctor left the room, Sam lay back against his pillows, still clutching Dean’s hand in his. He pinched his bottom lip between his teeth as he attempted to process all the information just thrown at him without crying.
Father Winchester watched quietly as Sam let his mind wrap around everything Dean had been thinking about since he’d first been told about Sam’s injuries. Sam caught the bow of his bottom lip between his teeth and Dean’s breath was suddenly hard to find. He’d seen the teen perform that move so many times, but somehow, in this moment, when it was a genuine expression of fear and frustration and not a put-upon attempt at distracting the object of his desire, it had much greater impact. Dean found himself clutching his free hand around his own leg to keep from reaching out to touch that pink lip.
“It’s gonna be okay, Sammy.” Sam’s head turned to face him, tears gathering in the swirling hazel of his eyes. “It’s going to be okay, and I am going to be right here with you.” Dean couldn’t be sure what made him do it, but he brought Sam’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the knuckles.
Sam would have smiled if he hadn’t been so shocked by the warm press of those full lips to his hand. “Thank you, Fath- Dean. That means…it means everything.” Sam wanted more than anything to lean over and kiss Dean’s mouth again, but he was afraid to spook Dean, so he settled for rubbing his thumb over the back of the older man’s hand. A thought formed in his mind and though he was fully appreciative of his brother being there with him, he had to know something. “How long have I been here?”
“Almost two days. Why?”
“And have you been here the whole time?” Dean nodded. “Oh, Dean. You need to go. You need your rest too. It means so much to me that you’re here for me, but really, you need sleep and food, and, and…a shower and a change of clothes.” Sam wrinkled his nose and smiled at the last.
“I did shower. And change. Pastor Jim sort of insisted. I can’t leave you here alone, Sam. I won’t.”
Sam saw the determined set of Dean’s jaw and wondered if his own looked that way when he dug his heels in like that. “Look, I’m fine right now. I just had my pain meds, I know what’s going on. At least go home, eat, get a real shower, followed by clean clothes. You can come back tonight if you want.” Dean opened his mouth, no doubt to protest more, but Sam cut him off. “I’ll still be here, not like I’m going anywhere.” Sam smiled and Dean chuckled.
“No, I guess you’re not. You sure? Really sure you’ll be okay for a few hours?” Sam nodded. “Okay, then.” Dean stood, but found he was reluctant to let go of Sam’s hand, and more surprisingly, he really wanted to kiss the younger man. His urges warred with his guilt about priestly vows, teacherly duties…and incest. His actions ended up somewhere in the middle. He let go of Sam’s hand and leaned over the bed to hug his brother, his free hand carded through Sam’s long hair, and he felt Sam place the lightest of kisses to the stubble on his cheek.
* * * * *
Father Winchester returned a few hours later, freshly washed and shaved, dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a soft grey t-shirt. Sam’s breath caught at the sight. It was rare to see the priest outside his usual uniform, and it only reminded him how gorgeous his brother was. The definition of his muscles was evident through the thin cotton and when Dean turned to set his duffel on the floor Sam saw the way the jeans hugged the curve of his ass. Sam forced himself to look away; it would not be good to tent his hospital sheets with an ill-timed erection.
“Better?” Dean asked as he pulled the chair back up to Sam’s bed and sat down.
Sam made a show of sniffing the air. “Much.”
Dean leaned down to his bag reaching inside as he spoke. “I thought you could use something to engage your mind.” Sam rolled his eyes expecting a text book to emerge, but what he saw was an old Classics Illustrated comic book. Dean held it up and Sam read the cover. “Knights of the Round Table?”
Dean smiled. “Whadya think?”
Sam laughed a little and nodded. “I love Sir Galahad.” He reached for it, but Dean yanked it back.
“Nope, you lay back and relax. Gonna read it to you.”
Sam’s smile softened. “Ok.” He settled himself back into the pillows and listened to his brother read. As he watched Dean’s face move through all the emotions of the story he was reading, Sam felt that tug at his heart again. He was really falling for this man, and he had no idea what to do with that. The flirting, the seducing and going big for the reaction, getting caught up in the game of the chase, that he knew how to do. Falling in love, building an honest and true relationship? He was completely out of his league there. He shook off his thoughts and focused on the story of Sir Galahad’s quest for the grail. Soon he felt his eyes begin to drift shut and he let the rise and fall of Dean’s deep voice lull him to sleep.
* * * * *
The next day, Sam was cleared for surgery, and the following day he was taken into the operating room just before 9am. Dean walked alongside his bed until they reached the doors that separated the sterile surgery area. Sam grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Thanks again.” Sam smiled up at his brother, and when he saw the worry etched into that face he added, “I’ll be right back, Dean, I promise.”
Those words spread like buckshot, hitting him in the gut and the heart all at once. He’d heard that sentence from John so many times and it had always been laced with hope and doubt. But Sam had never made that or any promise to Dean before and the genuine conviction in those slanted eyes made Dean need to believe Sam would never break his word.
“K, and I’ll be right here when you get back, Sammy.” Dean leaned down and placed a kiss to Sam’s forehead and then backed up so they could push his brother through the doors.
Father Winchester paced the waiting room for over an hour, then let himself be convinced to go to the cafeteria for some lunch. He pushed his food around his plate for about 20 minutes before he’d had enough and pushed away from the table. He couldn’t go back to that waiting room, and besides all the nurses had told him Sam would go to the recovery room briefly, then be taken back to his own room. He wandered for a bit and found himself in Sam’s hospital room, poking through the things on the bedside table and searching for his brother’s scent underneath the bleached sterile hospital smell. When his gaze fell on the book he’d been reading to Sam, he collapsed in the chair and flipped it open in his lap.
“Father Winchester?” He must have dozed off so he hadn’t seen the nurse appear in the doorway and her voice startled him.
“Yeah?”
“Sam’s been brought to the recovery room. He’s still sleeping off the anesthesia, but you can go see him now.”
“He’s okay?”
She smiled and nodded. “He’s just fine.”
“Thank you.” Relief washed over him and he stood and stretched. A glance at his watch showed it was nearly 4pm. “Is it really that late?” The nurse nodded. “Is that…is that normal? For Sam’s kinda surgery I mean.”
“It’s not unusual for these orthopedic surgeries to take hours, and Sam’s break was pretty…complicated. I’m not surprised it took so long.”
“Oh. Okay. So, which way to the recovery room?”
Dean followed the nurse’s directions and soon found himself standing over Sam’s bed again. He ran a hand over the young man’s hair, and when an aide brought him a chair, he pulled it close and took Sam’s hand in his as he waited for his brother to rouse. It was an eerie echo of how he’d spent the first days at the hospital.
Before long, Sam opened bleary eyes that barely seemed to see Dean. The nurse assured Dean that it was normal for patients after surgery, and Dean waited patiently as Sam wove in and out of consciousness. Eventually the nurse deemed him stable enough to return to his room and Dean walked alongside the bed as they pushed it down the halls. As soon as the bed and Sam were settled back into place Dean took up his position in the chair at Sam’s side once again.
As he watched Sam sleep, he appreciated the fact that all the traction equipment was gone. The blanket tented oddly over Sam’s left leg, and though Dean wasn’t ready to look at it, he knew that underneath was the scaffolding thing the doctor had talked about. On the other side of the bed, Dean could see the stark white of a plaster cast on the right leg. Dean rested his head on the bed next to Sam’s torso, and fell asleep so quickly he didn’t even notice he’d begun to drift.
* * * * *
Sam felt like he’d been trying to struggle his way to consciousness for days, but had no way of knowing how much time had passed. There were a blur of images running behind his closed eyes, many of them featuring Father Winchester’s beautiful face, and he was fairly sure most of them were real memories of his brother at his side after the surgery. What finally pulled him awake was the feeling of the bed jerking beneath his side.
He blinked his eyes awake to find Dean sleeping with his head and arm resting on the bed next to Sam. At first he smiled, happy that Dean had wanted to be so close to him, but as soon as he saw the way Dean’s face was twisted, his heart lurched. His brother’s mouth was screwed up in a grimace and his brow was scrunched tight, Sam could see how Dean’s eyes twitched behind the lids and he knew his brother was dreaming. Dean’s head moved and his arm lifted from the bed and Sam understood the feeling that had woken him. He guessed that his brother must be having a nightmare and when grunts and moans and aborted words started leaking from Dean’s mouth Sam figured it must be a bad one.
Sam placed his hand gently on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean?” He said quietly, moving his brother ever so slightly. The blonde head jerked on the bed again and Dean moaned out the single word “No,” but full of such pain it hurt Sam just to hear it. He shook Dean harder, “Dean. Dean, please. Time to wake up.” Dean’s head began whipping from side to side on the bed and his arm thrashed up so quickly that Sam nearly caught it across the nose. He ducked then shook his brother in earnest. “Dean! Wake up!”
Dean awoke, sitting up and shouting “Sammy! No!”
As Dean came to full awareness, he registered Sam’s face in front of him, eyes wide and he slowly realized he’d been having the nightmare again. His heart raced, and though he knew it wasn’t real, it was just a dream and the real fire hadn’t taken his brother, his mind was still fogged from the overwhelming emotion of the dream, so similar to the fear of loss that had set him pacing for much of the day. He reached forward, hands framing Sam’s beautiful face, his thumb brushed over the perfect pink bow of Sam’s lower lip. Forgetting everything but his absolute need for Sam, Dean leaned forward and captured Sam’s mouth in a kiss.
Sam hummed in surprise for just a second, and then his hands found their way to Dean’s head, fingers pushing through the short hair as his mouth moved with Dean’s. When Dean opened his mouth and Sam felt his tongue trace the seam of his own lips, he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped as he opened to allow his brother access.
The sound of Sam’s moan pulled Father Winchester back to reality. What was he doing? This was his student, his brother. The thought that he should not be doing this pounded at his brain, but was quickly chased away by the sensation of Sam’s soft tongue tentatively pushing into his mouth. And just for this moment, he didn’t care how wrong this was, he would confess tomorrow. But now, right now, he just lost himself to kissing this boy.
Dean twined his tongue around Sam’s and sucked gently, drawing a second moan from Sam, whose hands pulled him closer. Sam nipped at Dean’s full bottom lip, then sucked it into his mouth and this time the moan came from Dean’s throat. Dean freed his lips from Sam’s teeth and slotted his mouth more tightly against his brother’s. Their tongues found each other again and every pass of one slick muscle against the other drew each man deeper into the shared pleasure.
When Dean felt Sam’s hands curl into fists clutching his shirt, reality broke through again. He couldn’t let this go any further. Not here, not like this…and maybe not ever. He gently pulled back from Sam’s lips, a string of mixed saliva pulled between their reddened, kiss-swollen lips and the picture Sam painted sent an ache through Dean’s blood. “Sammy,” he whispered.
Sam’s hand molded to Dean’s cheek. “ ‘m here, Dean. Right here. Nightmare?” Dean nodded. “Wanna talk about it?” Sam asked.
“It’s the fire. I…I have it a lot. Not really clear, just heat and flames…and a baby crying.”
“The baby was me?” Dean nodded again. “And I died?” Dean looked down and nodded again. Sam tilted Dean’s chin up again. “I didn’t die Dean. I’m here now. Alive.” He grabbed Dean’s hand and pressed it to his chest over his heart. “See?”
Dean let his hand rest over Sam’s beating heart for a moment, then he carefully pulled out of Sam’s touch and sat back in his chair. “I’m sorry, Sam. Didn’t need to wake you like that. You’re the one in the hospital bed.”
“It’s okay Dean. I’m fine.” Seeing that whatever spell had brought the kiss on was broken, Sam allowed a change in subject. “Though, I wouldn’t object to the nurse bringing me some pain meds.” Dean smiled and nodded as he pressed the call bell.
* * * * *
Days passed and neither Sam nor Dean brought up the nightmare or the kiss again. Sam thought about it all the time, the way Den’s plush lips had felt against his, and how, for just a moment, Dean seemed to actually allow himself to experience the feelings Sam had suspected he had all along. He longed for more of those moments, more of Dean’s touch, but somehow he knew that if he pushed, it would only damage the tenuous thread drawing them slowly together.
Once Sam was stable, and the fear of losing him had eased from Dean’s chest, he began going home at night. He returned each morning though, often before Sam was even awake. Since Sam was stuck in the hospital, and Dean refused to have him fall behind in his schoolwork, Father Winchester brought Sam’s books and lessons to him.
Sam showed a whole new commitment to his education. It was fueled by both his pre-fall vow to turn things around, and his desire to impress Father Winchester. His new routine became waking to Dean bringing coffee and usually breakfast. After they ate, Sam would do the physical therapy exercises with the nurse. Then it was lunch, and in the afternoon, lessons with Father Winchester. At some point in the day there was always the need for him to get washed up, which given his limitations in movement and reach, meant receiving some help from the nurse or aide. He was fairly sure he’d caught Dean stealing a look at least once or twice, and he smiled to himself. Guess it was only fair since he had seen Dean’s ass, that Dean should get a look at his.
* * * * *
Despite all Father Winchester’s efforts to ignore his feelings and pretend he’d never kissed Sam, he relived that kiss daily. He had gone straight to confession the next day, and he’d done the prescribed penance, but the impure thoughts? They were not going anywhere. He tried to push down the urges, the flashes of fantasies that would strike at the most inopportune times. Most times he succeeded in keeping himself in control, but there were small slips, like accidentally walking into the room early when Sam was getting his sponge-bath, or looks that lingered a little too long, little unnecessary touches that he just couldn’t stop.
Sam, for his part, seemed to have made an honest change. He was working fiercely on his lessons, and his grades were steadily improving. If he kept up the hard work, combined with his natural intelligence, there was still a chance he could earn a scholarship for college. The less Sam flirted, and the more he applied himself, the more attracted Dean felt to him. Instead of the smirks, he got to see Sam’s real smile, open and full of joy…framed by dimples.
Days strung together into weeks until a month passed, and it got harder and harder to ignore and deny his feelings. Sam occupied some part of his thoughts every minute of the day. His heart lifted and he couldn’t stop the smile that curled his full lips every time he walked back through the door to Sam’s room. He ached to be closer to Sam, but this wasn’t really about sex at all. Father Winchester was falling in love.
* * * * *
Sam’s cast came off in early July. The external device that had been holding his leg together had been removed a few weeks before that, and he’d had several more surgeries in the meantime. Dr. Birch came to speak to Sam and Dean about a week later, saying it was time for Sam to move to the next phase of his recovery.
“We’ve done all we can do with surgery, Sam. And you’ve been doing really well in therapy. I have no doubts you’ll be walking again, and probably sooner than you think. But, you need more intensive therapy, from people who specialize in that part of treatment.” Dr. Birch held out a pamphlet which Sam took from him. “This is the best rehab facility in the state. I think you should consider going there.”
Sam looked through the pamphlet, taking in the pictures and explanations of the facilities. It all looked perfect, until he closed it and looked at the address on the back. “But, this place is like 4 hours away.” Dr. Birch nodded. “But, but…Father Winchester, he’s been helping me keep up with my school work. That’s too far for him to drive back and forth. I can’t go here.” Sam tried to hand the pamphlet back to the surgeon.
“But, Sam, this is the best place for you. They specialize in orthopedic rehab.”
“Find somewhere else. It’s too far.”
“Dr. Birch, could you give us some time to discuss this?” Dean asked.
“Of course…and I’ll gather some information about secondary facilities too.” Father Winchester smiled and thanked him and the doctor left them alone.
“Sam, I think you should go there.” Dean said softly. “You’ve worked so hard to be able to walk…this is going to affect the rest of your life.”
The panicked look in Sam’s eyes turned to devastation. “So will being separated from you. Again.”
Dean swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat. He could not stand that look in Sam’s hazel eyes, nor the emotion that cracked his voice. And if Dean were to be truly honest with himself, he did not want to be separated from Sam either. He closed his eyes as he tried to get a handle on the swirl of emotions and thoughts tearing through him. He wasn’t going to give Sam up, not now.
“Okay. Okay, Sammy. I’ll come with you then.”
Sam’s head jerked back in surprise as his eyes widened. “You will?”
Dean nodded.
“You sure? What about the school?”
“It’s summer, most of the boys will go home. Pastor Jim can handle the few that are left for a couple of months. And there are a few other people that could help as well.” Dean paused and ducked his head. “I want you to get the best treatment out there…and I….I don’t want-“ Dean stopped and looked up, the hazel gaze fixed on him was full of hope. “I don’t want you to have to be alone. Not anymore.”
Sam reached for his hand. “Thank you, Dean.”
Chapter 7