Who's afraid of the dark?
Title: Who's afraid of the dark?
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It should have been just another birthday, but it wasn't. When Sam disappears mysteriously, John, Dean and Bobby team up to start a desperate search for him. Meanwhile, Sam wakes up in a strange, cold room, where no one talks to him, although he knows he's being watched. He's just a boy, and when things go terribly wrong, can Dean help him survive the darkness that creeps through his skin and nestles in his bones? This is a story of great darkness and pain, but also of great love and comfort.
Warnings and A/N: Top!Dean, bottom!Sam, not for the faint of heart, graphic violence/torture and maybe more. Read at your own risk. Wee!cest, pre-series. Hurt/Comfort, protective Dean.
Previous chapters
Chapter 21
On his fourth day at the hospital, Sam’s health had definitely shown signs of improving. The swelling around his right eye was pretty much gone, although the skin around it was still very bruised. The doctor came to check on him that morning and made him get on a scale. Sam had approvingly gained three pounds. It was very little compared to what he still needed to put on, but it was something. The doctor took him off the I.V. drip and changed all his medication to be taken orally. Sam was on antibiotics, anti-inflammatory drugs, and painkillers that kept him mildly sedated and relaxed.
The doctor scheduled another X-ray for that afternoon, because he wanted to see how his fractures were coming along, particularly the broken ribs. Sam had trouble walking because of a series of combined wounds, such as the pain in his ribcage, the injured ligament in his thigh, the cut near his hipbone and the two broken toes, so even though the doctor encouraged him to walk a few steps every day, he was not supposed to spend too much time on his feet. Like he would have strength to do it, Sam thought. If he tried to walk for longer than five minutes at a time he felt lightheaded and dizzy, and had to go back to the bed.
The doctor confessed he was amazed that there was no trauma at all to his head. Little did he know, Sam thought, that the plan was never to kill him. They kept safely away from his head. With it, Sam thought bitterly, they preferred to fuck up mentally, from within.
It was another uneventful day in the hospital, with Sam eating his food quietly, watching television silently and simply staring at nothing in particular. In the afternoon, when the nurses came to take him to the X-ray room, Dean, Bobby and John were left alone in Sam’s room for a while.
John’s cell phone started ringing and he picked up the call, speaking low, serious words for a moment.
“Seriously?” Dean whispered to Bobby as they watched his father talk. “Is he talking about business now?”
“You know your father. But he isn’t going anywhere, Dean,” Bobby assured him.
And indeed, John ended the call and stared at the phone for a while.
“Monsters?” Dean arched an eyebrow.
John looked at him, as if he had been found doing something wrong. “Erm, yeah… it seems so. I told them to try another hunter. I’m not leaving Sam.”
Dean nodded approvingly. He was glad his father was doing the right thing, but deep inside he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last. How long until John Winchester just couldn’t stand hanging around playing daddy and took off on another hunt. It was a business, yes, but it was also his life and what moved his father.
“Actually, Dean… what do you say we take some time off, lay off hunting, and just be with Sam?” John asked.
“That sounds great,” Dean agreed. In fact, that sounded like the only thing they could possibly do after everything.
“I was talking to your father last night, why don’t you come over, stay at my place for a while? That old house is big enough for all of us,” Bobby offered.
“We don’t want to bother you anymore than what we already have,” John said, looking intently at his friend.
“Bollocks! You know you could never bother me. I’ll enjoy having you there,” Bobby said, looking at Dean expectantly.
“I like it. I think it’s a good idea,” he said.
Bobby smiled, pleased, and John was forced to cave in. “Alright then. As soon as the doctor says Sam can leave we’re going to spend some time with Bobby.”
It would be like a vacation, except for the part where they could look forward to a lot of hurting instead of joy, Dean thought sadly.
“Good news,” the doctor said when they returned from the X-ray room. “Everything is healing nicely,” he looked at John. “I believe Sam will be able to leave the hospital in a couple of days. I still want to see another X-ray before I can discharge him, and it’ll be good to leave the cast around his wrist a bit longer.”
John nodded. “Thank you, Mike.”
Sam went back to the bed without saying a word. He listened to them talk as if it wasn’t about himself they discussed.
“Sam…” Bobby went closer to him. “When you left we were talking about where we’re going when you’re released. Would you like to come to my place?” He asked softly, looking deeply into Sam’s eyes.
There was so much concern, so much sincere affection in Bobby’s eyes that Sam couldn’t just look away. He nodded shyly and went quickly back to staring at his hands, unwilling to give anything else as a response.
The small, subtle nod meant a lot to Bobby. He smiled and sighed, and for the first time he had hope that things could eventually go back to what they used to be.
~ * ~
That night, as they had agreed before, John was the one who stayed in the room with Sam. Bobby drove Dean back to the motel where they had been staying, and they ordered some take out food and talked before going to bed.
“How bad do you think it is, truly?” Bobby asked Dean, opening a beer and helping himself.
Dean eagerly accepted a bottle when Bobby offered him one.
“It’s bad, Bobby.”
“Did he talk to you when you were alone?”
“No,” Dean said.
“Why do you think he isn’t talking?”
“I think he isn’t ready to talk,” Dean said, and that was an honest answer. “Think about it… we have hundreds of questions we would like the answer to, and all of them would cause him to remember whatever the fucking hell happened to him in that weird room. I know I wouldn’t like to remember any of that shit if I had been tortured.”
“I guess you’re right… I just wish we could make him feel safe now.”
Dean nodded. He wished the same.
“I don’t think it’ll be easy.”
Bobby took another bite of his food and stared at Dean. He was quickly leaving his boyhood behind to become a man, and even though he was still so young there was a hardened look in his face, one that made him look more like his father, and yet, beneath that tough look there was tenderness Dean couldn’t possibly hide from those who knew him well.
“You do know you’re the one he’ll open up to, when and if he feels like it,” Bobby said suddenly and Dean stopped in the middle of taking the beer to his lips.
“What do you mean?” He asked.
“Please, Dean… We know your father. We know John loves you kids with all his heart. But can you actually see Sam pouring the contents of his heart out to him?” Bobby asked truthfully.
Dean pondered for a moment. He knew what Bobby meant. He felt the same way about it.
“Dad and Sam aren’t exactly the kind of people who talk easily to each other. Ever since Sam found out about the business it’s like part of him resents dad,” Dean shrugged. “It’s not getting easier now that he’s a teenager.”
“I know. I often talked to Sam when you guys came visit me. I know he loves John, that goes without saying. But I also know that he trusts you more than anyone.”
“He thinks I’m the stupid older brother,” Dean smiled.
“He thinks you’re god,” Bobby smiled back, but with seriousness in his eyes.
Dean’s heart twitched at that. The thought that Sam was proud of him always caused his chest to feel bigger, as if it needed to accommodate a swelling heart.
“But Bobby… how can I help him? We have no idea what happened to him in there. I think they broke him pretty badly, and not only physically. I don’t know if I can help at all…”
“You’ll figure it out,” Bobby soothed him. “Sam’s silence, for example. It’s been bothering your father and it’s been bothering me too. It gets on our nerves that we can’t seem to get through to him, to check on him… We rescued him but his silence keeps screaming at us that it was too late. You, on the other hand, don’t seem bothered by said silence.”
Dean took another bite of his burger and reflected on that. He didn’t, really. Of course he wanted to talk to his brother, but only if Sam felt like talking.
“So you see... you don’t have to think too much about it, Dean. Just follow your gut. I think it’ll show you how to help Sam.”
“I hope you’re right, Bobby,” Dean said, taking another sip from his beer and another bite off his burger.
~ * ~
John looked at his son and the way he stared at the television. He took advantage of Sam’s eyes being focused on something else to study his body carefully, or the parts he could see anyway. John looked at the fading bruises on his arms, the cast around his broken wrist and the ugly, glaring bruise around his eye.
If John could, he would change places with his son and be the one lying on that bed. There was nothing he cared more in the world than taking good care of the two sons Mary had given him. He knew he was doing a reasonably good job, because even though he had often been absent, the boys were growing up to be strong, decent, trustworthy kids he could count on.
Dean was going to be an incredible hunter. Give him time and he would be better than himself, John thought. It was hardly fair that at such a young age Dean had already tortured and killed his first monster, but little in their lives was fair at all. And Sam, well, he was different from his brother, that much could not be denied. He was willful and smart, and though Sam had a loving, caring heart, John could look him in the eyes and see tough times for them in the future. Dean was fierce, but he was obedient. Sam, not so much. Many times John had felt that Sam listened to his brother more than he listened to his father.
And the truth was, John felt unable to blame him. Because of his hunting life he had been forced to leave the boys alone more often than he would have liked to, and he knew that Dean had pretty much raised Sam with a little help from him. Perhaps it had been too much responsibility to put on the child Dean was when Mary had died, but they had made it so far, and John was glad for the bond his two boys shared. It pained him that Sam wouldn’t open up to him, but he clung to the hope that Dean might be able to get him out of his shell and back into the world. Because, John thought, Sam was pretty much still living in that white room where he was found, isolated from everyone and in a world of pain and hurting.
The noise of the television being turned off, and the silence that followed, pulled John out of his reverie. He saw Sam getting ready to sleep, but before that he stood up from the sofa and walked towards his bed.
“Son?” He called softly.
Sam looked into his eyes. There was nothing in his eyes except for quiet contemplation.
“Do you like doctor Michael? He’s been a nice doctor, hasn’t he?”
Sam blinked a few times. He liked doctor Michael. He was nice to him.
“I was talking to him before, and he told me that maybe it would be a good idea if you had someone you could talk to when you get out of here,” he explained. Even though Sam didn’t speak, John knew he was paying attention and understanding what he meant. “What do you think of the idea, hm? I could talk to a few friends, find someone really good who can help you feel better.”
Sam swallowed hard and took a deep breath. It didn’t matter that his father’s words were soft and meant well. They caused a feeling of uneasiness to spread inside him. The more he talked, the more Sam felt his own silence weighing on him, killing his voice, making him focus hard on the wall he had to build.
“I just want you to consider the idea, okay? Just think about it,” John said, and watched when Sam’s eyes strayed and he looked away. “Good night, son,” he leaned over to plant a kiss on the top of Sam’s head and then he went back to the sofa where he would sleep.
Sam turned around, on his other side, and pretended he was asleep for a while. His heart was beating a little faster, and his mind knew the answer he did not voice. ‘I’m not talking to anyone. I’m not going back there. I’m not,’ Sam promised himself, over and over, until eventually he was no longer pretending, and sleep finally found him and set his mind free.
~ * ~
On the following day, Dean arrived in the morning with something for him.
“Here. I think you’ll like it,” he gave Sam a book he had bought for him on the way to the hospital.
Sam took the book and stared at the cover.
“I know you like geek stuff, so I thought, what’s better than this?”
The Lord of the Rings. Sam’s lips curved slightly. He had already read that book, but nice try, he thought.
“Oh, no, wait, that’s for me,” Dean quickly took the book off Sam’s hand. “You’ve read that already, right? This one is for you,” he said, pulling a second, thinner book from his backpack.
Sam frowned, curiosity all over his face as he accepted Dean’s second book.
The Silmarillion.
Sam had been wanting to read that book for a while now. He could not believe Dean had bought it. Although Sam had probably mentioned one too many times that he wanted to read it, he could hardly believe Dean remembered the title. Sam would have never thought that his brother was paying attention to his teenage ranting about Tolkien’s fantasy world.
“You like it?” Dean asked, but he knew the answer already. Sam smiled. It was brief, and in a second it wasn’t there anymore, but Dean saw it, and it made his heart feel lighter.
Sam looked at him and held the book tightly. Then he turned his attention to it and opened the cover to read the first page.
Dean walked slowly away from the bed and gave him room to read.
John and Bobby exchanged a quick look of appreciation, and Bobby looked at Dean fondly, believing every word he had said to the boy the previous night about him being able to help Sam.
All they needed now was time.
~ * ~
The days went by within the same hospital routine Sam had fallen used to. He woke up in silence, ate in silence, and now he read the book Dean had gotten him in silence too. He went to the bathroom alone when he needed, and he even wondered why they didn’t have mirrors in there. Sam was growing curious as to what he truly looked liked. He knew his hair was long enough to tangle between his fingers when he raked a hand through it.
The nurses came every now and then to make sure he had what he needed, and the doctor came once a day to talk to his father and check on him.
There was not much to do except wait for his bones to heal, and the bruises to fade. By now they were pretty much gone. The nurses still changed the bandage around his stitches and Sam was not allowed to move much, but he felt stronger and less sleepy. He supposed they were slowly taking him out of the pain medication which caused him to feel drowsy.
During the time Sam spent in the hospital, Sam’s nights were pretty much dreamless. If he did dream, he could hardly ever remember anything about it. The medication he was on caused him to have blank nights where he seemed to simply turn off for a few hours and then turn back on. That didn’t mean, though, that there weren’t times he woke up in the middle of the night, sweaty and breathing fast, feeling his heart rate accelerated, but Sam could never remember what he had dreamed, thanks to the drugs still working on him.
His eyes darted open in the middle of the night and the faint hospital light told him where he was. Sam felt his fingers were cold and he swallowed hard.
Bobby was the one sleeping with him tonight, and he was awake when Sam woke up seemingly restless.
“It’s alright,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
Sam took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. It was good being able to open his eyes to a familiar face watching over him. He liked it better when it was Dean, but it still felt good seeing his father or Bobby there, showing him they weren’t just a dream, a wish, a lost hope… Sam was actually out of the nightmare he had lived, at least when his eyes were open and the lights were on.
~ * ~
When the day came for him to be released from the hospital, the doctor filled two prescription bottles with pills and handed them to Sam.
“Your X-ray looks good. Those ribs are still mending, though, and you’ll have to be very careful. No exercise whatsoever for at least a month. Then you can start with something light if you wish. I took off the cast, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful with that wrist. Try not to force it too much. It’d be nice to start with slow, gentle movements. The stitches in your hipbone need to stay for a few more days, but your father assured me that you can have them removed at home,” he said.
‘Yes,’ Sam thought. They were, what one could say, familiarized with stitches.
“The pills in this bottle,” the doctor continued, showing one of them to Sam, “are for pain. You’re gonna take one a day, for four more days. And after that you only take another if you feel pain. This other one,” he showed him another very similar bottle, but with a different label, “has pills to help you sleep. You don’t need to take them if you feel you can sleep easily. But in case you have trouble, take one before bed.” The doctor explained. He didn’t say what trouble was, but he supposed Sam knew very well what he meant. ‘If the memories become too painful, take one and you’ll sleep them off,’ was what he was really saying.
Sam took the bottles and thanked the doctor with his eyes. He was still insecure about speaking. And the longer he remained in silence, the more comfortable it felt. He didn’t have to give explanations about how he felt, and pretty soon people had stopped asking with hopes of getting answers.
“You can get dressed, but I think you’ll need help.”
Sam looked at some of his clothes lying on the sofa. His father had brought him jeans, a T-shirt, underwear, socks, tennis shoes and a jacket. Props to him, for not forgetting anything, Sam thought.
“I can help,” Dean said and waited for everyone else to exit the room and leave Sam and him alone.
Sam looked at Dean and didn’t offer any resistance when Dean reached out his hands to help him out of bed.
Sam was wearing the hospital gown, which was opened on his back, and didn’t exactly cover him much. Nevertheless, when he unlaced the gown and let it pool by his ankles, Dean had to bite down on his inner bottom lip to stop himself from sucking in a shocked breath.
The bruises looked yellowish by now, but they were everywhere. And around Sam’s ribcage there was a huge one, and Dean could see how he winced when he tried to move.
“Here,” Dean took the underwear first. He stood before Sam and instructed him to place both hands on his shoulders. Dean then leaned until Sam didn’t have to lift his foot too high to be able to dress the garment.
Dean stole a quick glance at the cut on his hipbone before doing the same with the pants, helping Sam put each foot inside of it, and then letting him finish pulling it up and buttoning it himself.
Dean picked the T-shirt next and held it in front of Sam.
“Hm,” Sam groaned and a frown of pain took his face when he raised both arms.
“Easy, buddy,” Dean said softly. “Take your time.”
Sam felt the soft fabric of the T-shirt slide down over his naked torso and lowered his arms again. Then he sat on the sofa and Dean put on his socks and tied his shoes. The jacket came last, and then Sam was ready to go.
“Are you okay?” Dean looked deeply into his eyes and asked.
Sam sighed and nodded. He wasn’t okay. He would never be okay. But he knew what Dean meant, and he didn’t want to disappoint.
~ * ~
Outside the room, John was explaining to the doctor where he would go for a while, and it was pretty far from the hospital. Doctor Michael said he would not be able to come in an emergency - it was a four-hour drive to Bobby’s house - but he gave John the phone number of good doctors who lived in South Dakota, and could help if there was something urgent. Then, after the proper thank yous and goodbyes were exchanged, the doctor promised to go visit Sam soon, and wished them a safe trip.
“John?”
“Yes?”
“Just think about what I said. Sam’s seen a lot. He’ll need someone who understands that, someone who can help his mind get better.”
John nodded. “I’m thinking about it, doctor. I’ll talk to him.”
This moment Sam and Dean left the room, Sam walking on his own, and Dean very close in case he needed help.
“Goodbye then. I’ll see you in about ten days to see how things are going.”
“Thank you,” Bobby said this time.
“Bye Sam,” the doctor looked at him a last time and turned around to leave.
“The Impala’s parked right outside. Are you fine to walk up to there? We’ll take the elevator,” John said.
Sam was fine to walk to the hospital entrance. He didn’t even need Dean’s help to go down the few stairs in front of the hospital.
It was the middle of the morning and the clarity of the sun was punishing in his eyes, but Sam welcomed it. He stopped for a moment and felt the warmth of the sun tingling on his skin. It was a good feeling, and he shut his eyes.
Suddenly, a loud horn was heard honking from a car and it pulled Sam out of his thoughts, startling him. His heart raced and he shuddered at the loud, unexpected sound, and before he knew it his hand had instinctively closed tight around Dean’s arm.
“It’s alright,” Dean murmured. “Let’s get into the car.”
Sam’s eyes were wide open and scared. After having spent three months in almost absolute silence, he looked around at everyone moving at such a hectic pace and wondered if he would ever be able to feel as normal as those people walking before his eyes.
Dean opened the Impala’s door to let Sam in. As Sam waited for a moment, studying the car, Dean became very much aware of his brother’s firm grip on him.
Dean looked at Sam’s fingers closed around his arm and thought of Bobby’s words.
Perhaps, he thought, feeling hopeful, give it time and he might indeed be able to help Sam.
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tbc...