Missing Pieces, 2/8

Nov 24, 2011 08:11


Have a wonderful, safe, and joyous Thanksgiving everyone!

Chapter 2
Bobby was used to late-night phone calls, but that didn't mean he had to like it. It seemed like just about every day someone was calling him from somewhere asking for something or for some information on some sort of monster - as if he was some kind of damned supernatural 411 call center with nothing better to do than answer all of their questions.

So when his phone rang at around 11:15 pm on a Friday night, he wasn't surprised, just annoyed.

"Balls." He muttered to himself. He had just crawled into bed after a long day working in the salvage yard and seeing as how he wasn't a spring chicken anymore, he was bone-tired and just wanted to get some sleep. He thought about ignoring the insistent ringing, but it was his cell phone and Bobby only gave that number out to the people he trusted the most - and they usually only called that number if there was some serious crap going down.

And dammit if he hadn't left the cotton-picking thing all the way across the room on his dresser rather than on his nightstand, then he wouldn't have had to shuck off his nice warm blankets to go and answer it.

With a heavy sigh, and grumbling all of the way, he got out of bed, walked over the phone and picked it up. The caller ID showed a number he didn't recognize from California, but it could be from just about anyone he had given this number out to.

"Hello?" He answered after the fourth ring.

"Hello, is this Robert Singer?" an unfamiliar, female voice asked.

"Yeah … who is this?"

"My name is Sharon Rogers and I'm a nurse at Stanford University Hospital's Emergency department. I'm calling in regards to a patient we have here named Samuel Winchester. He has you listed as his emergency contact at the school. "

Bobby froze. He hadn't seen neither hide nor hair of the Winchester's since he'd driven that bastard, John from his home with a loaded shotgun. That had been almost four years ago and while Bobby had considered John a trusted friend at one point, he had disagreed with just about every way the man raised his sons and treated them like raw recruits in his quest for vengeance in his wife's death.

While Bobby could sympathize with John since he knew all too well the pain of losing a wife he loved so dearly, he couldn't understand how he could drag his boys into the hunting lifestyle like he had - it was no life for children. If he had had two little boys in tow after Karen died, he certainly wouldn't have gone into hunting - he would have done everything in his power to keep it from them.

The straw that broke the camel's back came when John had planned on using his kids as bait for a werewolf and wanted Bobby to help out with the hunt. Bobby put his foot down and refused, arguing with John rather loudly about how he could dare to put his kids in danger like that. Sam and Dean may have been trained from boyhood to be hunters, but they were still boys and they were too young to be treated that way.

Bobby could still picture the faces of Sam and Dean peering at him through the car as they drove away that day. God, he missed those kids and all of the times that they had spent with him - Dean with his cocky smile and bow-legged swagger and short little, Sammy, his shaggy hair falling into his face and following around his big brother wherever he went like a lost puppy…

Sometimes he really hated John for taking them away from him.

"Sam?" Bobby asked the voice on the other end of the line after the initial shock in hearing the boy's name. He had a million questions running though his brain all at once. What had happened? What was he doing in a hospital in California and why the heck did Sam have him listed as an emergency contact instead of his father or brother? It didn't make a lick of sense.

"Yessir. I'm afraid there's been an accident …."

OOOOOO

There was only pain. It coursed all throughout his body; it rattled around in his head and shot out like electric bolts of searing, blinding, and gut-turning currents along raw nerve endings. There was no centralized point from where it emanated - it was everywhere and he had only one desire: to make it stop.

Dean would make it stop. He always did - where was he?

Dean's gone - you left him…. He's not coming this time. The little inner voice in his head reminded him.

Sam dragged his heavy eyelids open just enough for him to peer around his surroundings, too tired and in too much agony to move anything but his eyes. He didn't recognize where he was, but he'd been in more than enough hospitals to know that he was in one, and that he was hooked up to several beeping machines, but for the life of him he couldn't remember how or why he was there, all he knew was pain and would someone please, please, please make it go away …

Tears slipped freely from his eyes. It was too much … he couldn't do this.

He screwed his eyes shut and his fingers found a way to wrap themselves around the railing of his bed, squeezing as tightly as they could, but that did little to abate the waves of pain washing over him.

Sam held on, his eyes closed and leaking tears. He couldn't bring himself to care if anyone heard the deep moaning that issued from the back of his throat that continued until he heard footsteps approach and a female voice say, "Oh hon ,.. I'm so sorry, I didn't think you would be awake yet and the pharmacy was slow in making a new morphine drip for you, but give me one sec and you'll start feeling better in no time. Just hold on."

He didn't know who the woman was nor did he care; he just nodded his head and kept his eyes shut.

A warmth blossomed from the IV in his hand a moment later. It traveled up the veins in his arm, and migrated all through his body until the pain started to let him go. Finally there was some relief and he let him get swept away with it into a sea of blissful nothingness.

OOOOOOO

Bobby didn't know what to expect, but not this.

It had been years since he last saw Sam and he knew he would be different and more grown up, but he hardly recognized the tall, young man lying flat on his back, hooked to machines with tubes and wires, a nasal cannula under his nose, covered in bandages, his face red and swollen, one long leg encased in a plaster cast from hip to toes while the other leg …

He turned away, his stomach roiling and throat threatening to close up on him. "Dammit, Sam." He muttered.

Just as soon as he turned, there was a figure at the open door to Sam's room. He had to be no older than Sam was himself and giving the concerned way he looked at the young man in the bed, he must be one of Sam's friends.

The kid's eyes connected with Bobby, they were red-rimmed and his spiky, blond hair was a mess. He looked like he might not have slept in days.

"I'm sorry." The kid sputtered, "I didn't know you were in here. I'll just …" he turned to leave Bobby stopped him.

"Wait - you one of Sam's friends?"

"Yeah - I'm his roommate. Are you Sam's father?"

Bobby sputtered a little at that question, "No … I'm uh … more like an uncle. I've known him since he was little."

The kid nodded, "I'm sorry, it's just that Sam's never really mentioned much about his family … I just thought -"

"It's okay."

"Um … I'm Brady, by the way." Brady stepped in further and held out a hand which Bobby took and shook briefly.

There was an awkward moment of silence as Brady's eyes went back to his friend on the bed.

Bobby broke the quiet, "So … you're roommates, huh? Here at the university?"

"Yeah … I got lucky and got a dorm room with a guy like Sam. He's one of the best friends I've ever had and …" Brady swallowed hard, " … he saved me, ya know? Pushed me out of the way of that drunk driver … how does something like this happen to someone who would do that for a jerk like me? You know, The police never even caught the guy that hit him - it's just not fair."

Bobby had only picked up a little bit of info about Sam while he was en route from South Dakota to California. He had to call around, but he learned about the accident, the injuries he sustained and what he was doing on campus in the first place. Bobby had to admit to being a little surprised to find out that Sam was actually a student there, with a full-ride scholarship to boot, not because Sam wasn't sharp as a whip, but because of his father's attitude towards hunting over schooling. But, he wasn't at all surprised that the boy had put himself in danger to save someone else - it was something he's been doing his whole life and to Sam it was second nature.

"Not much in life that is fair, kid." Bobby remarked honestly.

"I'm sorry … I uh …haven't had much sleep lately and I tend to babble when I'm tired," Brady admitted, running a hand through his hair, "But, I should go … you probably want some time alone and I have to catch a plane back to my parents' for the summer in a few hours."

Bobby nodded and offered a little advice of his own, "Get some sleep on the flight, kid. Looks like you could use it"

"I'll try." The boy said and then walked up to Sam's sleeping form, patting his shoulder gently, "Hang in there, Buddy."

Brady was gone a moment later and Bobby was left standing there alone with a heavy heart. Brady was right about one thing. Life sure wasn't fair and it wasn't right that Sam was in this hospital without Dean or John and that his own family was absent when he needed them the most.

Bobby didn't know all the circumstances that led to Sam being alone like this - why Sam put his name down as next of kin rather than his own family -but, he didn't like it at all. John might be a bastard and a shitty father at times, but Sam was still his son and Bobby vowed that he would track him down somehow.

Until then however, Sam was going to need help getting through this- and lot's of it.

Bobby grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to Sam's bed and sat down before taking hold of Sam's limp hand and patted it, offering his presence and assurances that there would be at least one person in his life he could turn to.

"Don't worry, kiddo. I'll take care of ya."

OOOOOO

Sam was aware of someone talking. A gruff voice that rang familiar, but one he hadn't heard in a very long time.

Thinking coherently was a chore, but even through the haze, he didn't think that the voice he heard could be real - it had to be a dream, but then the voice spoke again.

"He'll walk again though, right?

"Well… after the cast comes off he'll need physiotherapy and from there the therapists will talk about getting him fitted with a prosthetic. Thankfully we were able to save the knee, and that should make mobility much easier for him."

Sam's consciousness hovered between confusion and disbelief, but he was too tired to open his eyes. Prosthetic? They couldn't be talking about him, could they? And that couldn't possibly be Bobby Singer's voice asking all of those questions, could it?

No ... It was definately a dream.

"When he's ready to get out of the hospital, I'd like to be able to take him back to my place and take care of him. Is there … I dunno … special accommodations I need to make?" Not Bobby asked.

"Well … with his right leg broken, it'll be in a cast for at least 6 to 8 weeks, so a wheelchair will be necessary until it's fully healed and he can use crutches after than until he's ready to learn how to use a prosthetic. So a wheelchair ramp at the very least would be needed."

There was that word again - prosthetic. Why does he keep saying that?

Sam had to know if this was real and it took some effort, but he managed to get his eyes open, even if only one of them would respond. Two blurry figures entered his field of view. One was undoubtedly a doctor since his white coat gave him away, but the other - with the faded blue jeans, well-worn flannel shirt and tattered trucker's hat was unmistakably Bobby.

Not a dream?

What was he doing here?

"Bobby?" Sam asked, his voice was rough as sandpaper and he could barely muster enough energy for it to be audible, but Bobby must have heard him since he turned around and came to his side.

"Sam? You awake?"

"Bobby … wha?" Sam swallowed, his voice catching on his raw throat and it was hard to focus, his eyes were so heavy and he's never been so tired before, "s'at you?"

"Yeah, it's me. You were in a bad accident, but you're gonna just fine, okay?"

Sam absorbed that information, but his mind was too foggy to process much of it. He must be on some serious drugs, he reasoned absently.

The doctor joined Bobby by his bed and hovered over Sam and interrupted before he could answer Sam's question. "Sam? Are you feeling any pain?"

Sam shook his head; he didn't feel much of anything - his whole body felt numb.

"Good. If you ever do start to feel some discomfort, just press this button by the side of your bed, it's hooked to a pump that will deliver some pain medicine for you."

Sam nodded, he didn't think he could do much more than that, but he still had so many questions. He glanced up at Bobby and met his eyes, "What happen'd?"

Bobby hesitated and looked at the doctor who nodded, "It might be best to let him know."

"Lemme know what?" Sam had to know even though he could feel his heart beating faster. If Bobby was hesitant to tell Sam something, then it couldn't be good.

"The accident it uh … well …" Bobby swallowed and looked down and away from Sam's eyes, "The car that hit you rolled over your legs, it broke the right one pretty bad and the other …"

Sam had a bad feeling about what Bobby had to say, but he had to know, "What? What about it?"

"It's gone, Sam … I'm sorry." Bobby 's voice was soft and sorrowful as he delivered the news.

"What? …no," Sam responded immediately shaking his head from the sheer absurdity of Bobby's statement. It couldn't possibly be true - Sam may be numb from all of the medications they must be pumping into him, but he still had that leg - he could feel it.

"We did everything we could to save it," The doctor added, "But we couldn't, there was just too much damage. I'm sorry, but it had to be amputated."

Sam kept shaking his head. Why were they telling him this? If it was a joke, it sure wasn't funny. But, Bobby and the doctor just stood there awkwardly with pity filling their faces.

Sam felt coldness wash over him. God … what if they were telling the truth?

"Lemme see." Sam said, trying to push up with his arms so he could sit up. It was too difficult to get a good view of his legs lying down, but he couldn't raise himself enough to see anything, his arms were as weak as Jell-O.

Bobby attempted to stop him from moving, gently pushing him back down, "I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"I. Want. To. See." Sam demanded.

Bobby hesitated, but reluctantly gave in, "Okay … just lie still and I'll raise the head of the bed."

The older hunter pressed a button along the railing of the bed and Sam felt the head of the bed begin to rise along with his anticipation until he was fully able to get a full view of his lower limbs.

His right leg was set immobile in a thick, long cast, but it was his left leg that drew his attention and made his stomach lurch. He felt bile rise up his throat seeing where the sheet covering his leg indented far shorter than it should have. He pulled at the sheet, batting away Bobby's hands when he tried to stop him and his breath stuck in his throat when he took in the sight of the stark white bandages wrapped around a drainage tube what was connected to what was left of his leg just below the knee.

"No… no, no, no, no …."

Frozen in place, Sam suddenly couldn't breathe.

The room spun and his vision was blurred with tears. He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, heard Bobby murmuring in his ear, telling him that he would take care of him - that he'd see Sam through this - that he'd be okay - but it all rang hollow in Sam's head.

How could anything possibly ever be okay again?

To Be Continued ...

Chapters 3 and 4 )

fanfic, supernatural

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