Fic: Snap
Title: Snap
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters …
Rating: G
Category: Supernatural. WeeWinchesters; Hurt/Comfort/General
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 2300
Summary: PreSeries. WeeWinchesters. John loved his sons, but sometimes the houses they stayed in weren't too safe. Young Sam gets injured at home.
Sam: aged 9
Dean: aged 13
Snap
Dean and Sam followed their father to the door as he carried his well laden duffle bag slung over his broad shoulder.
“Dean, take care of your brother …I should be back later tonight.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Dad I can take care of myself.” Sam declared.
“Sam, listen to you brother …do what Dean tells you.” John instructed his youngest.
Both boys watched as their father strode purposefully to the black Impala, stowing his gear in the trunk before driving away.
“Come on Sam …gotta get ready for school.”
Sam trudged behind his brother back into the dingy house. The rundown timber home, with its peeling paint and untended gardens had been their home for the last few weeks. Sam didn’t care if they moved on soon. This house had low standards, even for them, and he couldn’t understand how it was still standing, how the rotted timbers supported the sagging roof. He just hoped it wouldn’t rain again for a while, as they didn’t have enough buckets to put under the leaks. The last time it’d rained he’d woken up to the large steady drops of water hitting him in the face as he lay stretched out in bed. He’d ended up having to share a bed with Dean until his mattress had dried out. Dean had teased him unmercifully about wetting the bed every time they’d walked past the mattress drying outside in the sun.
Sam gathered up his school books and shoved them in his bag. They had a long walk to the local school, and he didn’t want to be late, again.
Sam stood by the front door, waiting for his brother. Waiting - his impatience growing as the minutes ticked by. It wasn’t like Dean even packed much for school, so he couldn’t understand why it always took him so long in the morning.
“Come on Dean …its time to go …we’ll be late.” Opening the front door, he headed outside. This was one of the sure ways to get Dean to hurry up - thinking that Sam was leaving without him, or more precisely, walking to school on his own.
“Yeah, wait up Sam, I’m coming.”
Dean jogged to catch up with his younger brother, berating him for leaving the house on his own. They argued and bantered the whole way to school, before parting to go their separate ways.
They’d meet again in front of the school after class to walk home together. It was an unbroken rule.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Dean picked his bag up off the bench as he saw his younger brother walking towards him. It always seemed to take Sam longer to get out of school than it did him. Sam never seemed to be in a hurry to leave the classroom, happy to chat with teachers and other students after class. Dean just wanted to get the hell out of there as quickly as he could.
“Hey Sammy …we should hurry …it looks like its gonna rain.” Dean looked up at the dark grey storm clouds in the distance.
“Race ya.” Sam stated, slinging his bag onto his shoulder and taking off in a sprint.
Sam might have given himself a head start, but it didn’t take long for Dean to catch up. He had a fair bit of height on his younger brother, and a much longer stride. He ran by Sam’s side until the house came into view, then he surged ahead, easily beating Sam to the front door.
Both boys stopped; a smile on their faces as they panted and regained their breath. They entered the house together, going straight for the kitchen to search for food.
Dean took his afternoon snack into the lounge and switched on the old television. He still watched it, even though the bottom quarter of the screen was damaged and only displayed a grey stripe.
Sam unpacked his homework on the kitchen table, eager to get a head start on his assigned homework.
It was nearly dusk when Sam heard the first large splat of rain hitting the old tin roof. It was quickly followed by another, and another, as the clouds opened up and the rain deluged down. Without hesitation, Sam ran into the back bedroom where he and Dean slept. He could already see the damp patch spreading on the ceiling as the water started to penetrate into the room. Sam’s bed lay directly underneath.
He grabbed the end of the bed and slowly dragged it about a foot away from the wall. Now there was just enough room for him to squeeze into the gap between the bedhead and wall and push the bed further, into the centre of the room and away from the water leak. He squeezed into the space he’d created and braced his back against the wall, giving him the leverage he needed to push the heavy bed.
Sam used both his legs and arms to push the old bed, moving it gradually away from its position in the corner of the room. A few splatters of rain had already hit his rumpled bed covers so he tried to hurry, pushing harder as the bed gradually moved.
Focused on the bed and the position of the ceiling leak, Sam didn’t see the need to watch where he was stepping, the floor in front of him obscured by the bed.
He didn’t see the rotting floor timbers as he pushed the bed towards the middle of the room.
When Sam heard the crack of splintering wood it took him only a split second to comprehend its significance. A split second when he felt his foot fail to grip the timber floor.
A split second too late.
His foot didn’t plant firmly on the floor, but continued its downward pressure straight through the floorboards.
Sam cried out as the rotted timber collapsed under his weight, his leg punching through and scraping against the splintered wood as he fell. His body dived forward as his leg twisted awkwardly, trapped in the hole. Pain radiated up through his leg and he couldn’t help the small agonized cries that escaped.
“Dean! …Dean!”
Sam laid his head on his hands as he panted through the pain, eyes tightly closed. He waited for his brother.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Dean jolted on the couch when he heard the sound of splintering wood come from the back of the house. Rising quickly to his feet, he was already headed in that direction, shotgun in hand, when he heard Sam’s agonized call.
“Sammy” Dean shouted, coming to a halt in the bedroom doorway, assessing the situation. He moved slowly over to his brother’s side, placing the shotgun on the floor.
Sam raised tear stains eyes to look up at his brother. “Dean …help me ...my leg …it really hurts.” Sam bit down on his lip, but was unable to stop the small whimpers from escaping.
Dean laid a reassuring hand on his brother’s face, brushing back the damp tendrils of hair.
“Okay Sammy, just breathe …I’m gonna take a look at your leg …okay?”
Sam nodded before laying his head back down on his folded arms.
Dean gently probed the area of floor where Sam’s leg disappeared. He could see the drops of bright red blood where a piece of the timber had pierced Sam’s skin. He touched Sam’s leg and tried moving it to determine how firmly wedged his brother was.
Sam yelled. Red hot agony washed over him and tears ran freely over his pale white cheeks. His vision blurred and he didn’t fight it, wanting the release. He floated in that grey area somewhere on his way to unconsciousness, blocking out his surroundings and numbing the pain.
Hearing Sam’s yell of pain, Dean stopped trying to move his leg, instead attempting to pry away some of the timbers surrounding the trapped limb.
“Sam, does that hurt …can you move your leg …try pulling now…”
Concerned when he got not action or response, Dean moved back towards his brother head, lifting his face. Sam stared back at him groggily, his head heavy in Dean’s hands.
“Sam, talk to me …say something …Sam.”
Sam closed his eyes and his body slumped.
Dean laid his brother’s head gently back down. He needed to get help, and fast. His brother wasn’t conscious.
oooooOOOOOooooo
John pulled up in front of the old house, parking as close as he could to the front door. The rain was hammering down, and after a long day, he didn’t relish getting drenched in the downpour. Deciding to retrieve his bag and gear later, he made a mad dash for the front door, quickly letting himself inside.
“Boys!”
oooooOOOOOooooo
Dean didn’t hear the Impala pull up. He didn’t hear the front door open or slam shut. This was an anomaly in itself for the young hunter, his attention so focused on his injured brother. His first indication that his dad had returned was his call from the front of the house. Dean felt an enormous wave of relief rush through his body.
“Dad, in here …hurry …Sammy’s hurt.”
oooooOOOOOooooo
John didn’t hesitate. Hearing his son’s yell of distress he raced into the boy’s room. Dean was crouched at his brother’s side, gently stroking his face and hair. Worry was etched in his young face.
“Dean, what happened?”
“He was just moving the bed …so it wouldn’t get wet …his leg …I can’t get it out Dad …I …I tried to pull him free but…”
“When did this happen?”
“Just a few minutes ago …just before you got home.”
John felt around the area where his son’s leg was trapped, trying to dislodge some of the broken timbers. His fingers came away coated in blood.
“Dean, I need …get me a hammer …hurry.”
He continued to loosen the rotten timbers as he waited for Dean to return. Sammy was losing a lot of blood, too much blood, and he knew they couldn’t afford to waste any more time.
Dean skidded into the room and handed his father the hammer.
“Dean, hold his leg steady …I’m going to pry these boards up.”
He used the claw of the hammer to wedge under the wood, loosening the nails still holding it firmly in the joists. He worked quickly and methodically, careful not to cause further injury to Sam.
Finally, when a couple of pieces of floorboards were removed, he had room to access Sam’s leg.
“Dean, I need you to pull him out …slowly.”
John guided Sam’s leg out of the hole as Dean pulled him forward, his arms wrapped firmly under his brother’s arms.
“Okay, stop …lay him back down.”
Sam lay pale and limp on the floor. Blood pooled from a jagged gash running down the side of his swollen and twisted leg.
“Shit …Dean …keys are near the front door …go start the car …put the heater on.”
Dean obeyed, sparing Sam a last look before running from the room.
John grabbed an old shirt off the floor and tied it around the bleeding laceration. Retrieving the blankets from the boys’ bed, he laid them over his youngest. He then gently scoped Sam up off the floor, cradling him in his arms. He strode with purpose out to the car. Dean was waiting in the back seat and opened the door when he saw them exit the house. He held out his arms to receive his brother, pulling him into the back seat, his head resting on his lap. He tucked the blankets firmly around him.
John drove quickly to the hospital. Sam did not regain consciousness.
Their arrival at the hospital was a blur. Sam was laid down on a gurney in a small curtained cubical and quickly examined. John and Dean remained near Sam's side as his clothes were cut from his body and a hospital gown put on. John held Sam's hand and Dean stroked his hair as blood was drawn, readings taken and monitors attached. They remained by his side as the doctor carried out his extensive examination.
Sam required x-rays and then surgery.
John barely had time to comprehend what he was being told before consent forms were being held out to him requiring his signature. He gave the papers a cursory glance and signed automatically. The doctor didn’t want to delay. Sam had a bad break in his leg which would require setting, compounded by the large laceration and corresponding blood loss. They didn’t want infection to set in, and Sam was already in shock.
John and Dean watched as Sam was briskly wheeled away. They headed into the waiting room - to wait.
“I’m sorry Dad.” Dean mumbled as he sat beside his father on a hard plastic chair.
“Dean, this wasn’t your fault …never should have left you boys in that poor excuse for a house …knew it wasn’t well maintained …shit, you just had to look at it to know it was a hazard …I should have…” He wiped a weary hand across his brow.
“No Dean; wasn’t your fault.”
End.