Down in the Underground Chapter 3
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CHAPTER 3
Sam's head exploded. He felt it, he knew it. He was dead. He had to be…
Sam jogged down the tunnel, Dean at his back. They both stepped into the Card Room. The light seemed wrong somehow and Sam swayed. In a moment Dean had him, moving him out to the hall. Sam watched himself collapse. For a minute that seemed like an eternity, he saw himself stare out at nothing while Dean held him up. Then his eyes blinked, life bled back into them. Dean, his big, macho, scared of nothing, no chick flicks brother dropped his forehead into Sam's hair, curling a hand around the back of his head and sighed in relief. Sam saw himself struggle to raise his head, saw Dean cradle his face in his hands with fear in his eyes. A sound from the room beside them startled him. A loud pop, a crack and he knew it was a gunshot. There were raised voices. People began stumbling through the door as he watched himself and Dean shakily stand. Dean stood him against the wall and went back into the card room. He appeared a moment later with Liz under his arm, a graze wound along her forehead. Sam saw himself push away from the wall, saw a look of startled pain cross his face and saw himself fall…
The world slowly came back into focus. Panic and pain warred with each other in Sam's head as he crushed his eyes shut. He felt Dean's head drop to his, felt his brother's warm, comforting hand curve at the back of his neck and panic won as the vision cleared in his mind. It wasn't just going to happen. It was happening now! He tried to raise his head and felt Dean take his face, lifting it for him.
"Hey buddy." Dean soothed. "It's ok. You're ok."
"No." Sam whispered. "Dean…" A flurry of voices interrupted and then loud popping noises that could only be gunshots as the tourists began fighting to escape the Card Room.
"Crap!" Dean grabbed Sam's arms and pulled them both up, leaving his brother against the wall. "Stay here."
"Dean!" Sam watched him go, his mind still fighting for lucidity. Dean vanished into the room and Sam forced himself upright, taking two stumbling steps toward the room before Dean emerged. Liz was oozing blood from a graze above one eye. Sam reached for his brother and then looked down in shock as pain burned into his leg. "Huh?" He managed and felt his legs giving way.
"Sam!" Dean shouted as his little brother went down. "Hey!" He bellowed at an older woman who had lagged behind and was staring at the madness in front of her. "Take her!" Dean pushed Liz at her and dropped to his brother. "Sammy?"
"I been shot." Sam mumbled, eyes rolling back. Dean looked down and gasped at the bright red stain growing on the left thigh of Sam's jeans.
"No, no, no dammit! Sam!" Dean looked up frantically at the two women still standing there. He reached up and snatched the scarf from the old woman's neck with a hard yank. "Buy you a new one." He muttered when she cried out. He quickly tied the pink and purple thing above the hole in Sam's jeans and pulled it tight. "Sam! Sammy!" Dean tapped his cheek and got a drunken look in return. "Let's go." Dean took his arms and pulled Sam to his feet though nearly all his weight was on Dean. They managed all of five steps before Sam lost and passed out entirely. "Couldn't have waited til we got upstairs? Shit." Dean bent, grunted and got Sam over his shoulder in a firemen's carry. He'd ended up chivvying a few straggling tourists ahead of them until finally they all emerged into the bright morning sun. The fog had burned off leaving a beautiful day in its wake and Dean didn't give one crap how nice it was just then.
Some enterprising soul had called 911 and he could hear a siren in the air getting closer. He laid Sam carefully down, noting the pallor and more worrying, the light pumping of blood from the leg wound. He slapped both hands over it and pressed viciously.
"Don't you leave me, Sammy." Dean said, voice fierce and moisture threatened his eyes. "Can't lose you too. I just can't." He said softly, Sam's warm blood welling up between his fingers. "Come on, dammit!"
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"Family of Samuel Winchester?" A white coated Doctor asked as he pushed through the double doors into the waiting room. Dean leaped to his feet and rushed him.
"I'm his brother. Is he alright? How is he?" Dean demanded. "Is Sam okay?"
The Doctor raised a hand to try and calm him. "He's going to be fine. I'm Doctor Rimsey. If you'd follow me?" He went back through the doors and Dean stalked down the hospital corridor behind him. He led Dean to a room marked 'Recovery' and waved him in. Sam lay pale and quiet on the hospital bed. They hadn't taken the time to strip him, more interested in saving his life. A tube ran under his nose, leads for several sensors into the open neck of his shirt and his thigh was wrapped in layers of gauze. The ruined halves of the leg of his jeans lay under it.
"Now, the only significant damage was a nick to the Femoral artery, easily repaired. We're all still a bit perplexed mind you. We couldn't find the bullet that did the damage. Strangest thing." Dean nodded, saying nothing. Doctor Rimsey took Sam's chart from the bed and scanned it. "We're giving him plasma as he lost quite a bit of blood, the usual course of antibiotics and pain meds." He smiled up at Dean. "You can take him home in the morning if you like."
"Thanks." Dean smiled back and pulled a chair next to Sam's bed as the Doctor left them alone. "Sorry, Sammy. I know how you feel about hospitals." Dean scrubbed a hand through his spiky hair. "Shit. I feel the same right now." He sat there, listening to the steady beep of Sam's heart on the monitor and could only remember the single long tone of their father's as he left them forever. Dean wanted to be anywhere but in another damn hospital. He didn't want to be reminded of how his Dad had cheated death for him; for him and what the hell for? He wasn't worth it. He didn't deserve it. All he'd done the last year was stumble from one narrow escape to another. He'd failed everyone; Dad, Mom, Sam. Dean rested his head on the cold metal bar. God how had he NOT failed Sam in every way possible? The poor kids entire life, his future had gone up in flames pinned to the ceiling all because Dean couldn't leave him alone.
"Dean." Sam's hoarse voice startled him.
"Sammy?" Dean stood and leaned over to find two confused hazel eyes looking up at him. "Hey tiger. How you doin?"
"Leg hurts." Sam said and licked dry lips.
"Hang on." Dean grabbed a cup with a straw hanging out of it from the table and held it up for him. Sam sipped hungrily, the water soothing his parched throat.
"In hospital?" Sam asked, looking around at the stark white room.
"Nothing gets by you." Dean smirked, happy Sam was awake and speaking. "Casper shot you in the leg." He told Sam, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder when he tried to sit up. "You're gonna be fine. Lost some blood and nicked an artery. You can get out tomorrow."
"Tonight." Sam said firmly and pushed Dean's hand away. "Feel fine." He wanted out of the hospital and away from the memories and feelings it was drowning him in. Worse, he could see the strain it was causing Dean and wanted him away.
"Dammit, Sam." Dean growled but got an arm behind him and helped him sit up. "Just sit there a minute. I mean it." Dean left him sitting up, pulling at the patches under his shirt. "Stubborn ass." Dean said to himself as he went in search of the Doctor and a wheelchair. He found both at the Nurses' station.
"Hey, Doc. My brother's signing himself out AMA." Dean told him and took hold of the wheelchair. "You got any yelling you wanna do before he bolts, speak now."
"But…that young man needs rest!" Doctor Rimsey protested. "He needs to stay right where he is."
"Yeah well, no chance." Dean shrugged. "He's a little phobic about hospitals right now." Dean muttered. "We both are."
"Your brother can't leave. He needs to stay where we can keep him well taken care of." The Doctor crossed his arms defiantly.
"Look pal. Not too long ago some genius Doctor like yourself gave our Dad a clean bill of health…right before he died in the damn hospital." Dean growled. He didn't see any need to mention Demons or his own brush with death. "Happened right in front of Sam." Dean said more softly and felt his heart ache even as Doctor Rimsey softened.
"Allright, son." The Doctor took the chair from Dean. "Nurse, would you bring the discharge papers for me please? Room nine. You'll need some information before you go."
They entered the room to find Sam teetering on one leg while leaning on the bed and trying to get his brain to figure out what to do with the destroyed leg of his jeans.
"Morphine." Doctor Rimsey chuckled. Dean snorted and dashed ahead, steadying Sam and lowering him into the waiting wheelchair.
"I can'walk." Sam slurred.
"Not a chance, Dopey. Sit your ass down." Dean held him in place with a hand on his shoulder.
"The dressing needs to be changed every two hours. Stay vigilant for signs of infection." Doctor Rimsey went to a counter along the wall and took out a supply of bandages, setting them in Sam's lap. "He's still low on blood so monitor his blood pressure. Too slow or sluggish and he needs to come back immediately."
"Sittin' right 'ere." Sam waved a hand than Dean batted away. He quickly signed the clipboard the Nurse brought in and smiled at the Doctor.
"I'll take good care of him, Doc. Promise." Dean turned the chair and wheeled his extremely high little brother toward the exit. "Whether you like it or not."
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"So what was it?" Dean asked, laying a cold, wet washcloth on the back of Sam's neck where he bent over the toilet from his latest round of nausea. The morphine was wearing off and Sam was suffering the usual after effects.
"What?" Sam asked miserably.
"The vision or…whatever you had down there before you got shot." Dean handed him a glass of water but Sam pushed it away. He wasn't brave enough just yet to even drink water. His injured leg stretched across the floor. The wound was sore as hell but didn't actually hurt that bad as long as he wasn't walking on it.
"I saw…" Sam paused. "I saw what happened. I mean everything. Me having the vision, you going in after Liz and the gunshot."
"Well what the hell, Sam?" Dean said loudly. "How is that even useful? I think your vision fairy's screwing with you."
"Not a fairy." Sam rolled his eyes up at his brother. "Don't know what the hell it is but you're right. There wasn't any time to save myself." He pushed away from the toilet. "Help me up, dammit."
Dean smirked and lifted Sam up. "Don't yak on me."
"No promises." Sam fired back. He managed to hold most of his own weight back to the bed and lay down with a relieved sigh.
"I don't get it." Dean pulled a chair over and sat, putting his feet up on the bed. "Usually these Dead Zone moments of yours are for a reason."
Sam sighed and slid down in the bed, eyes drooping. He was exhausted after the blood loss, the drugs and the marathon round of throwing up. "I dunno. Maybe it stopped too soon or I missed something."
Dean watched him drift back to sleep and frowned. The visions scared him; not because he was scared OF Sam but scared FOR him. Something about them just made his teeth itch. Maybe it was the fact they put his little brother through agonizing pain and left him helpless. He pulled his cell from his pocket and stood. He couldn't just ignore it and he needed help. He pulled the blanket up over Sam and went outside dialing Bobby's number.
"Dean! How's the job going?" Bobby's voice made him smile. "How you boys doin'?"
"Well for starters that trigger happy ghost took a shot at Sam." Dean smiled and lifted the phone away from his ear as Bobby cursed beautifully. "He's fine. Got hit in the thigh. They sewed him up and we're back at the cabin. He's sleeping."
"Balls." Bobby sighed. "Any idea how to stop it yet?"
"None." Dean leaned against the cabin door, watching the afternoon sun color the treetops. "We need to get back down there when no one's around. Thing is, Bobby." Dean thought back to their trip through the tunnels. "I don't think it's just one ghost. Sam was acting weird long before the shootout. I think he was seeing stuff or at least hearing it."
"He probably was." Bobby grabbed his notes and settled the phone more securely. "I found some references to people hearing voices and the like. Some of 'em even talk about phantom smells. They all got one thing in common." Bobby paused, knowing how Dean would take it. "They were all psychic to one degree or another."
"Son of a bitch." Dean shoved away from the door to pace.
"Gets better. I found a few missing persons cases." Bobby sighed. "I've got four so far going back about thirty years. I'm still lookin'. They went into those tunnels and never came back out."
"Fan-friggin-tastic." Dean shook his head. "We gotta figure this out and fast."
"How's Sam? Really?" Bobby asked, worry in his voice.
"He's ok. Be up and walkin' again by tomorrow. It's just a flesh wound." Dean said and grinned as he heard Bobby's bark of laughter.
"Alright. I'm gonna keep diggin'. You boys be careful." Bobby hung up quickly, knowing how Dean felt about the sentimental stuff.
Dean smiled and pocketed his phone. He'd never admit it, at least not sober, but from Bobby he got comfort from the fatherly words spoken with gruff sincerity. "Thanks, Bobby." He said softly and went back inside. He was about to grab a beer when a low moan sounded from the bedroom. "Sammy?" Dean strode quickly in and found Sam thrashing, tangling himself in the blanket. "Hey, hey! Wake up." Dean grabbed his shoulders, holding him down. Sam's eyes shot open and he gasped for air.
"Holy crap!" Sam exclaimed. He was covered in sweat, shaking and embarrassed his brother had had to wake him.
"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, letting him go and sat on the edge of the bed.
Sam shook his head and closed his eyes. "It was the vision." He said slowly. "But it was like…replaying. I missed something." Sam pushed himself up and stared at Dean. "I didn't see it before. I was too focused on you and getting shot."
"See what? You're not makin' a lot of sense here, Sammy."
"It's Sam and the other man." Sam smiled. "There was another man in the vision. He was standing down the other hall and there was, I dunno….this shadow over him, behind him."
"Shadow?" Dean tensed, remembering the last time they had fought shadows; the Daevas.
"Not that kind of shadow." Sam said quickly, brushing a hand over his cheek and the faint claw marks that had yet to fade completely.
"Would you know him if you saw him?" Dean asked and Sam nodded.
"Yeah. I'll recognize him." Sam rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm not sure why but I know the ghost activity in the underground is his fault."
"This guy dead or alive?" Dean handed Sam the glass of water he'd pushed away earlier, happy when he took it and emptied it.
"Alive. Definitely." Sam nodded. "We need to find him."
"Ok. Assuming you're mobile in the morning, we'll go talk to your girl, Liz." Dean smiled.
"Dude I'm mobile now." Sam started to swing a leg off the bed and Dean shoved it back.
"You can stay here, have a beer and watch some bad TV or you can go back to the hospital." Dean grinned. "Your choice."
"You wouldn't." Sam asked but Dean just kept smiling." Dammit, fine but we're not watching porn."
Dean laughed. "Aw you're no fun anymore."
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