Requests and Challenges - We Are Pilots: Chapter Three
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Title: We Are Pilots
Author: girlgotagun
Pairing: Dean/Sam (Unrelated)
Chapter Three: Muddy the Water
. wake .
Crazy as it sounds you wont
feel as low as you feel right now
At least that’s what I've been told by everyone
I whisper empty sounds in your ear
and hope that you won’t let go
Take the pieces and build them skywards
Cause I’ve started falling apart
I’m not savoring life
I’ve forgotten how good it could be
To feel alive…
-Biffy Clyro, “Machines”
. wake .
From Dean Smith’s Journal - 27 July 2013
It’s my weekend with Ben. I picked him up on yesterday after work. He spent the whole damned hour in the car talking about his dad. Not me. I guess I deserved that. I don’t know how to relate to him. I’ve seen too much awful shit happen to kids, and it’s all I can see when I look at him. I guess that’s automatic entry to the list of people who shouldn’t be fathers.
In Afghanistan, kids would come up to us and ask for candy. I always kept Jolly Ranchers in my pocket, because they didn’t melt as easily as other stuff and it was hotter than hell. And the kids were nice, and they weren’t as scared of us as you might think-most of them, anyway. But that was kind of alarming because you can’t get it out of your head that maybe they’re not scared of you because they have a bomb strapped to their chests.
So I guess I’m sort of scared of Ben. Scared for Ben. I don’t sleep well; and maybe I’m just like Sammy, ’cause sometimes there’s this blur and I forget what’s now and what’s then and there’s nothing to ground me.
Except around Sammy I don’t forget. He needs me to keep my feet on the ground.
Ben doesn’t need me anymore. He’s got his new dad.
. wake .
The Florence Nightingale Pledge
sworn by nursing students upon completion of their license
“I solemnly pledge myself before God and in the presence of this assembly, to pass my life in purity and to practice my profession faithfully. I will abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous, and will not take or knowingly administer any harmful drug. I will do all in my power to maintain and elevate the standard of my profession, and will hold in confidence all personal matters committed to my keeping and all family affairs coming to my knowledge in the practice of my calling. With loyalty will I endeavor to aid the physician in his work, and devote myself to the welfare of those committed to my care.”
. wake .
“What the hell, Dean?” Dr. Winchester looked horrified. “What were you doing?”
“He came out of it, doc. Swear to god, he was here. Actually here.” Dean knew he was in deep shit, but he couldn’t help the rush of excitement at the sudden change in Sam’s state. “You know what this means? We can snap him out of it and bring him into the real world and figure out all this bullshit-”
“What you did is so unethical that I could have your license yanked out from under you before you even realized it was happening.” Dr. Winchester didn’t seem nearly as excited about the progress as Dean was. “Are you kidding me? Digging into an open wound on an individual in your care?”
“Okay, I know it’s not ideal but-”
“Ideal? It’s not even legal, Dean!”
“I’m not saying we torture the kid; I’m just saying that it shows that physical approaches to treatment might help more than those god-awful meds or this sitting around talking about his feelings bullshit, when you and I both know that he doesn’t even understand his feelings because he doesn’t even know what’s really happening-until now. How can you not want to do something with this?” Dean was legitimately confused. Sure, maybe actually causing physical trauma was a little extreme, but the point was to provide Sam with parts of reality that couldn’t be assimilated, could wake him up. A pill wasn’t going to do that. His mind would adjust to it, and the problem just got worse when Sam was on them.
“I am doing something. Believe it or not, I want to see him walk out of here. Maybe more than you do. I’ve been treating him for ten years.” Dr. Winchester took a steadying breath. There was a pause before he started speaking again, looking as though he were bracing himself for something irritating and unpleasant. “I started him on a new trial med this evening.”
“Jesus Christ-you know how he reacts to antipsychotics.”
“He is psychotic. What would you have me do? Carve the kid up and see if the physical trauma outweighs the psychological?”
“How about you actually treat him? Act like you give a damn?” Dean’s voice was growing louder. “I know he’s just a case files to you; some problem to be solved. But he’s a real person and we’re failing him. Shoving those pills down his throat isn’t going to do a damned thing. We’ve gotta snap him out of this and deal with whatever trapped him in there in the first place!”
“You think you’re helping him? You’re feeding his delusions!” There it was. The two of them had been having this argument for three long years. “You’re too close to him; how is he supposed to get any better when big brother Dean is there to tell him he’s right all the time?”
“Oh, screw you!”
There was a beat of silence as both men glared at each other. Dean was pretty sure if it wasn’t for the fact that Sam only trusted Dean-wouldn’t even let most of the other nurses around him-he would’ve been fired that very minute.
John’s voice was tense, purposefully calm and quiet. “I don’t really care what you have to say about it. I’m Samuel’s physician. I’ll decide what’s best for his care. You do remember your pledge, right?”
“Fuck the Nightingale Pledge. I don’t pass my life in purity or abstain, either, and I have no fucking idea what deleterious even means. The only part of it I give a crap about is the last bit.” Dean narrowed his eyes. “And you should, too. After all, your oath swore to first do no harm. Those pills are gonna kill him one day. Or make him do it himself.”
“I’d’ve thought you would know how to show more respect for your superiors. Did you walk around questioning your chain of command in the Corps?”
Dean could’ve punched the man in the face. Instead he crossed his arms, glaring at him. If looks could kill, the doc would already be buried. “The men and women in the Corps deserved my respect. They earned it; paid for it in blood. But if it was a question of protecting one of my brother’s lives? You bet your ass I’d question ‘em.”
“I’m only gonna tell you this once-leave Sam’s treatment to me; distance yourself before you make him worse.”
The doctor pushed past Dean before he could respond, slamming the door of the room behind him.
Dean was mad enough to break something. He paced a few times, trying to work off the aggressive energy, and then kicked the cinderblock wall. All that did was cause pain to radiate up through his good leg. Unfortunately, his reality was intact, and he’d have to deal with it.
. wake .
”Hey. Wake up, sunshine.” Lucifer’s voice was a mock-soothing lilt. “Up and at ‘em, atom man.”
“Sammy.” This voice was Dean’s. He reached out and put his hand on Sam’s chest. “Sammy, hey-”
Sam jolted awake, startled as he tried to figure out where he was and what was going on. Bobby’s. He was at Bobby’s. He’d been sleeping on the couch. Relief seeped through his muscles.
Dean looked as surprised as Sam felt at the abrupt awakening. “That’s twelve hours straight. I’m calling that rested.” He handed Sam a bottle of water and a protein bar. “Here. Hydrate and uh…protein-ate.”
Sam smirked. “Breakfast in bed?”
“Don’t get used to it.” Dean held his hand out. “Let me see that hand.”
Lucifer pretended to be touched. “Oh, he wants to hold your widdle hand. How sweet.”
Sam ignored him, focusing on Dean as he removed the bandages on his cut hand. Sam was still trying to make sense of the oddity of the injury-its lack of visibility, the strange jump back-and-forth between places, Dean’s strange reactions to him.
After a moment Dean seemed satisfied. “Eh, you’ll live. Here.”
Sam wasn’t expecting the straight whiskey that Dean poured over the wound and he hissed in pain.
“Alright, take it easy.
. wake .
“Alright, take it easy.” Dean shook his head. “It’s just antibacterial spray, you big baby.”
Dean’s gazed flickered up to Sam’s face. It was the next morning, and according to evening and night shift’s notes, the man had been out of it for half a day. He had missed breakfast, had missed morning group. Apparently evening shift had woken him for med pass, but other than that, he’d been dead to the world. It was better than some of his reactions to other meds they had tried.
“Antibacterial spray?” Sam looked confused.
“Well, yeah. What’d you think?” And then Dean saw it. Saw that flicker of awareness for a moment. “Sammy?”
“What’s going on, Dean?” Sam’s eyes kept moving to glance at the doorway to the room.
Dean twisted around, checking to see if Dr. Winchester was there or something. The doorway, and the room, were empty. “What do you mean, what’s going on?”
“We were at Bobby’s, and Lucifer was…” His eyes moved between Dean and the doorway again. “I don’t know if I’m still in the cage or if this is real or… What’s happening to me?”
Dean watched Sam’s eyes shift back and forth again, and then it hit him. “Wait. Are you seeing him right now?” Sam nodded and Dean swallowed, trying to choose his words carefully. But hell, words were never his thing. Better just get it out there. “You know he’s not real, right?”
Sam paused before answering, as though listening to someone. “He says the same thing about you.”
And it was terrifying. It was terrifying and heartbreaking but it was the first time that Sam had acknowledged whether something could be real or not-the first time that he had acknowledged any inconsistency in his fantasy world and the real world.
Sam was seeing both. Trying to pick them apart.
. wake .
”Okay, if this is some dream and you got power over it, why don’t you just end it?” Sam squeezed his eyes shut, trying to coax them to work right. Dean was flickering, changing. Hunting gear to scrubs. Indifferent to heartbreakingly hopeful. Back and forth.
Lucifer looked surprised that he would suggest such a thing. “End it? This? You not knowing what’s real, the paint slowly peeling off your walls? C’mon, man, this is the sweet spot!” The angel grinned at him. “Why would I end it? Not like we got HBO in the pit. All I got is you, floating over the coals with half a hope that you’re gonna figure it all out.”
Sam glared at him. The devil smiled back.
“There’s only one way to figure it out, Sam. It’s up to you.” Lucifer’s tone suggested he was imparting a very important revelation to him, but Sam’s heart sank, knowing the answer even before he was told. “It ends when you can’t take it anymore. I think that’s maybe why we’re cleaning our guns.”
“Shut up.” Sam’s gaze moved to the weapon he had been cleaning. It flickered in and out of view. There, gone. Real, not real. Which one?
Lucifer opened his mouth to say something, but Sam stood up. “I said shut up!”
The flickering stopped. Everything stilled. Dean, dressed in scrubs, was sitting on a hospital bed, leaned backwards slightly in shock at the sudden movement.
“Hey, Sammy. You uh…having a little bag lady moment?” Dean looked alarmed, and somehow…hopeful? Sam couldn’t figure it out.
He looked around. He was in a hospital room. He had seen it before. Knew he had seen it before. And yet he still couldn’t remember it.
What the hell was going on?
Continue to Chapter Four
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