(no subject)
Title: Time is Tight Part Three: What Lies Beyond 3/6
Author: Mich
Rating: R for violence/language
Genre: AU, gen
Spoilers: up through episode 1.22 Devil's Trap
Summary: Finally. The cabin in the woods. Sam, Dean, Jayme, and John. Where does the road go from here?
3
Sam was shaking, staring in horror as his father’s body hit the floor, golden light cascading throughout.
“Dean, no, hold still!” Jayme said, her voice trembling.
“Dad . . . Dad . . . ”
“Sam,” Jayme said once she felt the ground steady under her. “Sam!” She waited until the younger Winchester had turned her way, his face still drawn with shock. “I need you to get my phone. We have to take care of Dean right now, okay?”
“But Dad-”
“It’s too late for him, Sam. But it’s not too late for your brother. Now get my phone, and hurry, all right?” Her voice was calm and steady and not without compassion.
He nodded mutely, staring at the Colt as if he’d never seen a gun before. Dropping it, he stumbled blindly to Jayme’s bag, reaching inside and pulling out her phone; unlike some of her other possessions, this was made and activated solely on Earth.
“Open it, go to my address book, and call the number listed under the name Dr. Feelgood.”
“Dr. . . . Feelgood?”
“Bad joke. His name is Silensherra; call him Dr. Sherra.”
“He’s a neromancer?”
“Yeah. He’ll be able to get here faster than any human doctor.” Jayme turned back to Dean. “Honey, I have to pick you up, okay? I’m gonna try not to hurt you but no promises.”
He nodded, gasping for air. “Just . . . hurry . . . ”
Sliding one huge hand under his hips, she placed her other palm as flat as she could under his shoulders. Ignoring his sharp cry of pain, she lifted him up, moving him to the table as fast as she could as Sam dialed the number.
“I know, I know,” she said, changing back into her human form. She went over to the sink, washing the blood from her hands.
“Yes-no sir, I’m not-no, Jayme gave it to me! This is her phone! She is too!”
Jayme went over to Sam, taking the phone from him. “Silensherra, thes’ti Jhamera. Nha, na vehra nha-nonn. Yes, I need you here right away.” She looked over at Dean. “Unknown internal injuries to his chest and left shoulder. He’s conscious, yes. Hurry.” She closed the phone. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“He will? How? From where?” Sam asked, making the mistake of glancing down at his father’s body and feeling as if the ground was dropping out from under him.
“He’s in Redwood Falls, Minnesota. But, since he’s the only neromancer doctor on the planet, he’s allowed to have a personal transporter. He can send himself-and anyone else, or any object-instantly anywhere on Earth. Gimme your coat.”
“What?”
“I need to put something under Dean’s head. Give me your coat.”
Sam immediately tore off his jacket and handed it to her. She folded it and slipped it under Dean’s head. “Hang on Dean,” she said. “Doctor’s coming, just hang on, okay?” Pulling out her knife, she sliced the shirt and t-shirt away from his shoulder, cutting from the neck down the sleeve until she could pull the fabric away. His flesh was torn in several places, but what made her gorge rise was the awful way his shoulder and chest were distended, as if his bones and innards had been rearranged.
Sam just watched, his head aching with the force of the emotions roaring through him; everything had happened so fast he could barely find the breath to start taking it in. “Jayme, I-” He was interrupted by a knock at the door, making it a few steps towards it when a tall, imposing figure swept in. He was Sam’s height, with short black hair and brown eyes, his features stern and unsmiling as he took in the scene. His long white coat and tie and the bag he carried made him look human enough that no one would have questioned him.
“Silensherra, thank God,” Jayme said. “Over here, hurry.”
“I see you have once again managed to underestimate,” he said. “One of your true talents, Jhamera.”
When he reached the table Dean’s right arm shot up, grabbing his coat. “My dad,” he said through gritted teeth. “Over there on the floor. You gotta help him.”
Silensherra looked in the direction Dean indicated. “Jhamera?”
“Dean, he’s dead,” Sam said, nearly choking on the last word.
“No!” Dean snapped, the movement jarring his injured side. “These guys can bring him back, Sam!” He looked up at Silensherra, who had never seen such raw pain in human eyes before. “You gotta help him, please.”
Reaching up, Silensherra removed Dean’s hand from his coat, taking his bag and going over to John’s still form. He knelt, taking out a device that looked much more complex and powerful than the one Jayme carried, and ran it over John’s body. “What weapon was used? This is no ordinary gunshot wound.”
“It’s a long story,” Sam said. “Is there . . . anything you can do?”
Silensherra was silent for an interminable minute, the trio holding their breaths as he moved the scanner up and down, staring at its small readout with an ever-deepening frown. “I’m sorry. There’s no pulse, no respiration, no brain activity. The damage is too extensive. I think even had I arrived immediately, it still would have been beyond my capabilities.”
Dean closed his eyes, settling back against the table. The strength to shout had left him. “Just leave me alone,” he said.
“Len, if there’s nothing to be done, Dean needs you,” Jayme said, her voice tight.
“Indeed,” Len replied, standing up.
“No,” Dean groaned.
“You just shut up,” Jayme said, her voice breaking. “I’m not losing you.”
“Huh?” He struggled to focus, looking up at her. He wasn’t surprised to see tears in her eyes. But there was something else, a deeper pain that pinched her lips and the edges of her eyes. “You’re gonna be okay,” she said.
“Dean, please.” He glanced over at Sam and saw the same agony in his eyes. He’d lost a father, too. And he feared losing his brother.
Dean laid back. Being healed, getting better was the last thing he wanted right now. But for Sam, and for Jayme, he’d do it. “Do what you gotta, doc.”
Sam shuddered as Jayme and the doctor cleaned the blood from Dean’s torso until the torn flesh looked almost surgically neat. It didn’t look like much at first glance, but the distended area hinted at the deeper damage underneath. It filled him with a sick rage that ended only when he realized why he hadn’t been able to kill the demon. He still wasn’t sure he could, even now.
Jayme and Sam carefully lifted Dean up, Silensherra placing a sterile mat underneath. He got to work, doing a more involved version of what Jayme had done for them a dozen times, his more sophisticated and powerful instruments working to heal the marks of the demon’s anger.
Despite their advanced healing abilities, torn flesh and shattered bone still hurt to be drawn back together, and though Dean and pain sometimes went hand-in-hand, he still couldn’t suppress an occasional sound. Jayme didn’t coo or coddle, but she stayed rooted at the head of the table, her touches more gentle and personal than that of someone just rendering assistance.
Silensherra said nothing, focusing on his work. “You. Boy,” he said to Sam.
“Huh?”
“I need you to hold this device over his shoulder. Jhamera, do they know anything of our technology?”
“Basic skills and terms, yes,” she replied. “And his name is Sam.”
Sam took the scanner from Len and held it, realizing right away what he was supposed to do. It worked like a portable, real-time x-ray, giving a multi-layed image of Dean’s internal injuries. He tried to hold it still where the doctor could see, focusing on his fingers holding the edges and trying to shut everything else out.
“Jayme . . . ” Dean said, biting back a cry as Silensherra put his instruments down, his powerful hands snapping Dean’s shoulder back into place.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she said, letting him grip her wrist with his right hand, her other holding him steady. “Just relax, it’ll be over soon.”
“He . . . get you?” Dean’s eyes were glassy. It was clear he was sliding into shock.
“Len, hurry,” Jayme said.
“I’m moving as fast as I can. He’s lost a good deal of blood, but I cannot close his wounds until the internal injuries are healed.”
Moving without hurrying, Silensherra pulled out a rounded instrument with a clear vial on the end. “Jhamera, inject this on the side of his neck where his carotid artery is located. It will help stabilize him while I finish.” He looked up at Sam. “Are you his relation?”
“I’m his brother.”
“Are you his blood type?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Jhamera, go into my bag,” Silensherra said, nodding towards it. “I have a standard IV unit. Please draw at least one unit. That should be sufficient to keep my patient stable after the injection wears off.”
“Wait, you know how to do that?” Sam asked, watching Jayme roll up her sleeves.
“We all have standard first aid and basic medical training for both neromancers and humans, for emergencies.”
Sam watched as Jayme swabbed his arm, tying off his arm and finding a suitable vein, then sliding the needle in. “I knew you had to be able to take care of yourselves, since it’s not like you can go to a hospital, but I didn’t know you learned about us, too.”
“We have to be careful,” Jayme said. “The temptation to use our advanced technology to help humans injured or sick beyond your means is pretty big. Len here gives in to it all the time.”
Silensherra only grunted. “I’m a doctor. It’s not in my nature to ignore suffering. So I . . . bend the rules sometimes.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked, frowning.
The physician’s gloved fingers helped guide Dean’s flesh as he closed the largest tear. “I have what you call a family practice, and there have been times when I’ve healed or cured things beyond your medicine. With only one exception the afflicted person was unaware that they were that ill, so I am still, as you say, below the radar.”
Sam just nodded, his gaze moving unbidden to his father’s body. All their advanced abilities, and there were still things beyond their reach.
“He is your father?” Silensherra asked quietly.
Sam tried to speak, the words lodging themselves in his throat.
“Yes,” Jayme whispered. “John Winchester.”
“What happened?”
Sparing Sam, she spoke rapidly in Katarinian, explaining the events of the evening. Sam could pick out a word or two, filling in the rest from Jayme’s expressions.
Silensherra’s responses ranged from surprise to confusion to disbelief as he listened, his eyes focused on Dean, whose shoulder was almost entirely healed. “Jhamera, you are a woman of rare quality.” He gestured for her to remove the needle from Sam’s arm. “I have healed the damage caused by the . . . tkhohtk. He’s out of danger. It will be several weeks before he has full mobility and for the next several days he will have some pain. Earth medicines should relieve it. Jhamera, I trust you will be able to help him recover full muscle and tendon use.”
“Of course,” she said, handing him the blood.
“What of him?” he asked, nodding to John as he replaced the needle and slid it into Dean’s arm. “I can make proper disposition of the body if you wish.”
“No,” Sam snapped. “We’ll take care of him. You’re not taking him anywhere.”
Silensherra merely raised an eyebrow. “Very well. I didn’t intend to snatch him away.”
“It’s okay, Sam,” Jayme said. “It’s just that he’s familiar with the way humans take care of . . . you know.”
“I know,” Sam said. “But he’s our responsibility.”
Chapter Four
Author: Mich
Rating: R for violence/language
Genre: AU, gen
Spoilers: up through episode 1.22 Devil's Trap
Summary: Finally. The cabin in the woods. Sam, Dean, Jayme, and John. Where does the road go from here?
3
Sam was shaking, staring in horror as his father’s body hit the floor, golden light cascading throughout.
“Dean, no, hold still!” Jayme said, her voice trembling.
“Dad . . . Dad . . . ”
“Sam,” Jayme said once she felt the ground steady under her. “Sam!” She waited until the younger Winchester had turned her way, his face still drawn with shock. “I need you to get my phone. We have to take care of Dean right now, okay?”
“But Dad-”
“It’s too late for him, Sam. But it’s not too late for your brother. Now get my phone, and hurry, all right?” Her voice was calm and steady and not without compassion.
He nodded mutely, staring at the Colt as if he’d never seen a gun before. Dropping it, he stumbled blindly to Jayme’s bag, reaching inside and pulling out her phone; unlike some of her other possessions, this was made and activated solely on Earth.
“Open it, go to my address book, and call the number listed under the name Dr. Feelgood.”
“Dr. . . . Feelgood?”
“Bad joke. His name is Silensherra; call him Dr. Sherra.”
“He’s a neromancer?”
“Yeah. He’ll be able to get here faster than any human doctor.” Jayme turned back to Dean. “Honey, I have to pick you up, okay? I’m gonna try not to hurt you but no promises.”
He nodded, gasping for air. “Just . . . hurry . . . ”
Sliding one huge hand under his hips, she placed her other palm as flat as she could under his shoulders. Ignoring his sharp cry of pain, she lifted him up, moving him to the table as fast as she could as Sam dialed the number.
“I know, I know,” she said, changing back into her human form. She went over to the sink, washing the blood from her hands.
“Yes-no sir, I’m not-no, Jayme gave it to me! This is her phone! She is too!”
Jayme went over to Sam, taking the phone from him. “Silensherra, thes’ti Jhamera. Nha, na vehra nha-nonn. Yes, I need you here right away.” She looked over at Dean. “Unknown internal injuries to his chest and left shoulder. He’s conscious, yes. Hurry.” She closed the phone. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“He will? How? From where?” Sam asked, making the mistake of glancing down at his father’s body and feeling as if the ground was dropping out from under him.
“He’s in Redwood Falls, Minnesota. But, since he’s the only neromancer doctor on the planet, he’s allowed to have a personal transporter. He can send himself-and anyone else, or any object-instantly anywhere on Earth. Gimme your coat.”
“What?”
“I need to put something under Dean’s head. Give me your coat.”
Sam immediately tore off his jacket and handed it to her. She folded it and slipped it under Dean’s head. “Hang on Dean,” she said. “Doctor’s coming, just hang on, okay?” Pulling out her knife, she sliced the shirt and t-shirt away from his shoulder, cutting from the neck down the sleeve until she could pull the fabric away. His flesh was torn in several places, but what made her gorge rise was the awful way his shoulder and chest were distended, as if his bones and innards had been rearranged.
Sam just watched, his head aching with the force of the emotions roaring through him; everything had happened so fast he could barely find the breath to start taking it in. “Jayme, I-” He was interrupted by a knock at the door, making it a few steps towards it when a tall, imposing figure swept in. He was Sam’s height, with short black hair and brown eyes, his features stern and unsmiling as he took in the scene. His long white coat and tie and the bag he carried made him look human enough that no one would have questioned him.
“Silensherra, thank God,” Jayme said. “Over here, hurry.”
“I see you have once again managed to underestimate,” he said. “One of your true talents, Jhamera.”
When he reached the table Dean’s right arm shot up, grabbing his coat. “My dad,” he said through gritted teeth. “Over there on the floor. You gotta help him.”
Silensherra looked in the direction Dean indicated. “Jhamera?”
“Dean, he’s dead,” Sam said, nearly choking on the last word.
“No!” Dean snapped, the movement jarring his injured side. “These guys can bring him back, Sam!” He looked up at Silensherra, who had never seen such raw pain in human eyes before. “You gotta help him, please.”
Reaching up, Silensherra removed Dean’s hand from his coat, taking his bag and going over to John’s still form. He knelt, taking out a device that looked much more complex and powerful than the one Jayme carried, and ran it over John’s body. “What weapon was used? This is no ordinary gunshot wound.”
“It’s a long story,” Sam said. “Is there . . . anything you can do?”
Silensherra was silent for an interminable minute, the trio holding their breaths as he moved the scanner up and down, staring at its small readout with an ever-deepening frown. “I’m sorry. There’s no pulse, no respiration, no brain activity. The damage is too extensive. I think even had I arrived immediately, it still would have been beyond my capabilities.”
Dean closed his eyes, settling back against the table. The strength to shout had left him. “Just leave me alone,” he said.
“Len, if there’s nothing to be done, Dean needs you,” Jayme said, her voice tight.
“Indeed,” Len replied, standing up.
“No,” Dean groaned.
“You just shut up,” Jayme said, her voice breaking. “I’m not losing you.”
“Huh?” He struggled to focus, looking up at her. He wasn’t surprised to see tears in her eyes. But there was something else, a deeper pain that pinched her lips and the edges of her eyes. “You’re gonna be okay,” she said.
“Dean, please.” He glanced over at Sam and saw the same agony in his eyes. He’d lost a father, too. And he feared losing his brother.
Dean laid back. Being healed, getting better was the last thing he wanted right now. But for Sam, and for Jayme, he’d do it. “Do what you gotta, doc.”
Sam shuddered as Jayme and the doctor cleaned the blood from Dean’s torso until the torn flesh looked almost surgically neat. It didn’t look like much at first glance, but the distended area hinted at the deeper damage underneath. It filled him with a sick rage that ended only when he realized why he hadn’t been able to kill the demon. He still wasn’t sure he could, even now.
Jayme and Sam carefully lifted Dean up, Silensherra placing a sterile mat underneath. He got to work, doing a more involved version of what Jayme had done for them a dozen times, his more sophisticated and powerful instruments working to heal the marks of the demon’s anger.
Despite their advanced healing abilities, torn flesh and shattered bone still hurt to be drawn back together, and though Dean and pain sometimes went hand-in-hand, he still couldn’t suppress an occasional sound. Jayme didn’t coo or coddle, but she stayed rooted at the head of the table, her touches more gentle and personal than that of someone just rendering assistance.
Silensherra said nothing, focusing on his work. “You. Boy,” he said to Sam.
“Huh?”
“I need you to hold this device over his shoulder. Jhamera, do they know anything of our technology?”
“Basic skills and terms, yes,” she replied. “And his name is Sam.”
Sam took the scanner from Len and held it, realizing right away what he was supposed to do. It worked like a portable, real-time x-ray, giving a multi-layed image of Dean’s internal injuries. He tried to hold it still where the doctor could see, focusing on his fingers holding the edges and trying to shut everything else out.
“Jayme . . . ” Dean said, biting back a cry as Silensherra put his instruments down, his powerful hands snapping Dean’s shoulder back into place.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she said, letting him grip her wrist with his right hand, her other holding him steady. “Just relax, it’ll be over soon.”
“He . . . get you?” Dean’s eyes were glassy. It was clear he was sliding into shock.
“Len, hurry,” Jayme said.
“I’m moving as fast as I can. He’s lost a good deal of blood, but I cannot close his wounds until the internal injuries are healed.”
Moving without hurrying, Silensherra pulled out a rounded instrument with a clear vial on the end. “Jhamera, inject this on the side of his neck where his carotid artery is located. It will help stabilize him while I finish.” He looked up at Sam. “Are you his relation?”
“I’m his brother.”
“Are you his blood type?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Jhamera, go into my bag,” Silensherra said, nodding towards it. “I have a standard IV unit. Please draw at least one unit. That should be sufficient to keep my patient stable after the injection wears off.”
“Wait, you know how to do that?” Sam asked, watching Jayme roll up her sleeves.
“We all have standard first aid and basic medical training for both neromancers and humans, for emergencies.”
Sam watched as Jayme swabbed his arm, tying off his arm and finding a suitable vein, then sliding the needle in. “I knew you had to be able to take care of yourselves, since it’s not like you can go to a hospital, but I didn’t know you learned about us, too.”
“We have to be careful,” Jayme said. “The temptation to use our advanced technology to help humans injured or sick beyond your means is pretty big. Len here gives in to it all the time.”
Silensherra only grunted. “I’m a doctor. It’s not in my nature to ignore suffering. So I . . . bend the rules sometimes.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked, frowning.
The physician’s gloved fingers helped guide Dean’s flesh as he closed the largest tear. “I have what you call a family practice, and there have been times when I’ve healed or cured things beyond your medicine. With only one exception the afflicted person was unaware that they were that ill, so I am still, as you say, below the radar.”
Sam just nodded, his gaze moving unbidden to his father’s body. All their advanced abilities, and there were still things beyond their reach.
“He is your father?” Silensherra asked quietly.
Sam tried to speak, the words lodging themselves in his throat.
“Yes,” Jayme whispered. “John Winchester.”
“What happened?”
Sparing Sam, she spoke rapidly in Katarinian, explaining the events of the evening. Sam could pick out a word or two, filling in the rest from Jayme’s expressions.
Silensherra’s responses ranged from surprise to confusion to disbelief as he listened, his eyes focused on Dean, whose shoulder was almost entirely healed. “Jhamera, you are a woman of rare quality.” He gestured for her to remove the needle from Sam’s arm. “I have healed the damage caused by the . . . tkhohtk. He’s out of danger. It will be several weeks before he has full mobility and for the next several days he will have some pain. Earth medicines should relieve it. Jhamera, I trust you will be able to help him recover full muscle and tendon use.”
“Of course,” she said, handing him the blood.
“What of him?” he asked, nodding to John as he replaced the needle and slid it into Dean’s arm. “I can make proper disposition of the body if you wish.”
“No,” Sam snapped. “We’ll take care of him. You’re not taking him anywhere.”
Silensherra merely raised an eyebrow. “Very well. I didn’t intend to snatch him away.”
“It’s okay, Sam,” Jayme said. “It’s just that he’s familiar with the way humans take care of . . . you know.”
“I know,” Sam said. “But he’s our responsibility.”
Chapter Four