Fic: Repercussions - Chapter 5
Title: Repercussions
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters, but I dream about it sometimes …
Rating: PG - few mild swear words
Category: Supernatural. Hurt/Comfort/General
Spoilers: Up to end of season 2
Word Count: 7700 so far
Summary: Set after the end of Season 2 All Hell Breaks Loose Pt2. The knife wound in Sam’s back is healed, but was there was lasting damage.
Chapter 5
Without the wall behind his back he would have fallen. The flurry of activity in the room was intense, carrying an edge of urgency that did nothing to improve his peace of mind. Sam was fading before his eyes and again there was nothing he could do. He stood, pressed against the wall, and watched.
Helpless.
Unable to offer assistance as the medical staff strived to stabilize his brother.
He racked his brain, trying to think of anything they’d done, any action they’d taken, that could have undone the deal he’d made. His mind came up blank. There just hadn’t been enough time to find a way out of his dilemma, to save his soul. Sam had barely had time to properly heal.
Sam hadn’t healed. That was the problem. He hadn’t come back one hundred percent healthy, the pain in his back present on re-entering the world of the living. Sam’s pain hadn’t gone unnoticed, but out of necessity they’d pushed it aside for the first few days, their minds fully occupied by other things.
But Sam hadn’t got better as Dean had assumed he would. That was the purpose of the deal after all, but now he wondered why he would choose this time to trust a demon.
As he looked back, he could see that Sam’s health had steadily declined over the past few days, and they’d been lax in not seeking medical attention earlier. Then maybe Sam wouldn’t be lying pale and weak on the bed in front of him, struggling to hang on to life - if they’d done something sooner.
Everything was going wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. His brother didn’t deserve the pain and suffering that he attracted over and over again.
He stared, mesmerized by the activity around Sam, wanting to look away but unable to peel his eyes from the sight before him. He wanted to block out the sight, the sounds, but they were too intense, immersing him in their depths. He wanted this to be a dream, to open his eyes and see that everything was alright, that Sam was lying in the motel bed beside his, sleeping peacefully.
He cringed as a large needle was filled with dubious looking liquid and quickly injected into the intravenous drip already inserted in Sam’s arm. The needle plunged into the clear tubing, dispersing its contents with the other fluids. Sam’s body stilled and the bed side rails were quickly pulled up, securing his brother on the gurney. Seeing Sam through the steel bars did nothing to ease his panic, instead bringing up memories of another time that Sam had been restrained, behind bars. He didn’t want to go there, quickly bringing his mind back to the present. He moved out of the way, preparing to follow as the gurney was rolled forwards and maneuvered awkwardly out of the confined space.
Daring anyone to challenge him, he placed a hand on the edge of the bed, unwilling to let go.
oooOOOooo
Sam’s eyes stared blurrily at the ceiling, the sharp fluorescent lighting playing havoc with his throbbing head. Raising a shaky hand, he felt the oxygen mask covering his face, trying to remember how it got there. The last few minutes were a blur.
He remembered having difficulty breathing, and then everything went hazy and grey.
In sudden panic, he cast his eyes around him as he struggled to raise himself on the bed.
Where was Dean?
Unknown hands reached out to stop his feeble attempt at moving, holding his shoulders firmly against the mattress. Despite his fatigue, his instincts kicked in and he fought against the unfamiliar touch.
“D …Dean?” His weak voice sounded garbled under the constricting mask, but that didn’t deter him. He reached up, trying to remove the offending item.
“I’m right here Sam.” Dean leant in closer to the bed so that Sam could see him from his horizontal position.
He wanted to ask his brother what was happening, but the mask was being replaced over his mouth and his hand was gently pried away from his face. He allowed his body to relax, knowing that Dean was beside him. The adrenaline surge left his body as his tense muscles relaxed against the bed, leaving him feeling weak and tired.
Dean was here.
He closed his eyes. The movements of the gurney as it rolled down the corridor was making him feel sick and dizzy. He was just so tired.
A warm hand clasped over the top of his, and he opened his eyes a mere slit to see Dean standing by his side, his face wearing a worried frown.
He let his eyes drift shut again and gave in to the lull of sleep.
oooOOOooo
Dean felt like he’d been pacing forever in the small confines of the hospital room. Looking down, he was surprised to see that he hadn’t worn a grove into the floor; his feet felt like they’d been worn to the bone.
Sam lay still in the hospital bed, his pallid complexion a good match with the crisp sheets. He knew he should probably sit down, but he’d been banished to numerous waiting rooms for hours while Sam had undergone various tests and scans. He wasn’t yet ready to sit again; his body rebelling against the patience he was trying to instill.
He wasn’t good at hospitals. Neither at being a patient or a visitor, although when his brother was involved, he’d take being the patient over the visitor any day.
Hospitals always indicated that they were out of options. That there was a problem that couldn’t be fixed by themselves.
Family and self reliance was everything; it was how he was raised. Now, Sam was the only other person he felt he could rely on without question. Bobby was starting to get to that point also. He’d shown over and over again that he could be depended on when their chips were down.
He considered phoning the older man, but wasn’t sure if Bobby had fully understood or forgiven him for the sacrifice he’d made for Sam. He didn’t want to hear about fate or karma or how you shouldn’t mess with destiny. He didn’t want to hear the words he feared Bobby would utter - “I told you so.”
The rustle of sheets brought his gaze back to the bed.
Sam shifted on the narrow bed and he moved closer to his brother’s side. Sinking onto the chair pushed next to the bed, he propped his elbows on top of the bed covers and rested his chin in his hands. Watching Sam intently, he waited to see if he’d wake.
A few moments later he was rewarded with another wriggle and a small moan as Sam slowly returned to consciousness.
oooOOOooo
Sam’s eyelids fluttered open despite the heavy weight pushing against them. He blinked, trying to clear his blurry vision, focusing his eyes on Dean as his brother peered at him over the bed.
“Hey.” The words seemed insignificant given their surroundings, but he was momentarily stumped for something more insightful to say.
“Hey yourself. How you feeling?” Dean reached over and pressed the nurse call button as he spoke the words.
“Okay.”
Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam’s stock response, prompting for a more honest answer.
“Little tired I guess. Thirsty. Ah …what happened?”
Dean retrieved the glass of tepid water that had been resting on the table for the last few hours, propping up his brother’s head as he raised the glass to his lips so that Sam could take a few sips.
“You tried to do a horizontal slow dance with the waiting room floor …great way to attract attention by the way …next time though, how about…”
Dean put the glass back on the table and paused in his monologue as a nurse bustled into the room. She retrieved Sam’s chart from the end of the bed before reaching Sam’s side.
“Good to see you finally decided to wake up.” She chirped as she checked his vitals, recording her findings in the chart.
Sam looked at Dean quizzically. “How long?”
“About 12 hours.” Dean replied.
Sam didn’t feel like he’d been sleeping for 12 hours. His body was a little stiff, like he’d been lying in the same spot for too long, but he definitely didn’t feel well rested. He nervously chewed his bottom lip as he asked the question that had been plaguing him since he’d woken up in the sterile hospital room.
“Ah, what’s wrong with me?”
To be continued…
Chapter 6