Fic: Find Strength In Pain (Supernatural)
Title: Find Strength In Pain
Characters: Sam, Dean, John, Missouri
Rating: T
Words: 3115
Summary: While patching Dean up after their run-in with the Benders, Sam discovers that he has healing powers.
A/N: So this is from a prompt I saw a looooooooong time ago over at ohsam. To anyone who may have been tracking that prompt, I am SO SORRY it took me so long, but I'm done! It goes most noticeably AU after Devils Trap. I hope to someday write more in this universe, but I can't make promises. Big thanks to Lise and Renee for looking it over for me!
They figure it out completely by chance. When Sam touches Dean to change the bandages on the ugly burn the Benders left on his shoulder, he feels a flare of pain in his own shoulder and gasps, curling forward and clutching at his shoulder as he tries to breathe through it. Dean is kneeling in front of him when he can hear over the ringing in his ears, frantically asking questions. Sam uncurls slightly and allows his brother to check out his shoulder, and only freaks out a little bit when there’s a new burn wound that matches Dean’s. When they check Dean’s shoulder and find that wound gone, he stops freaking out altogether; a healing power is nothing compared to what he was afraid he could do.
Dean, of course, doesn’t see it this way. “So, what, you take someone’s aches and pains every time you touch them? What the fuck, Sam, how did you not notice that you were getting hurt whenever you touched someone who had anything wrong with them?” Sam is honestly waiting for a pathway to get worn through the motel carpet from Dean’s pacing.
“It’s never happened before,” Sam says patiently. “Or else it’s only been very recently, with small injuries like bruises and little cuts and stuff that I didn’t notice because it wasn’t a big deal. Honestly, this isn’t the worst thing that could happen, ok? I just have to be more careful about touching and stuff.”
Dean isn’t happy with the situation, but he has to admit that it’s not terrible when the burn is gone a few days later. Sam is just happy that he has a power that helps more than it hurts.
~*~*~*~
Sam puts a little bit of effort into trying to control the new power, and makes slow progress as time goes on, but it’s never at the top of his to-do list. Dean wants him to learn how to control it, but is content with the situation as long as Sam is careful about physical contact.
And then the accident happens.
Sam and Dean are walking from a bar to their motel, a few hundred dollars richer and both fairly buzzed, when they see a car swerving dangerously across the road, the driver obviously drunk. They back up as far away as they can get from the road just in time to be out of the way when the car swerves straight over the curve and into a lamp-post.
The impact throws the driver out of the car, and they roll a few times before coming to stop a few feet from the Winchesters; it’s a young man, probably not much older than Sam. Sam instinctively moves forward to help at the same time that the man groans and reaches out, groaning “Help me, please, it hurts,” and the man’s fingers make contact with the skin that’s showing between Sam’s jeans and sock as he kneels down.
The next thing Sam knows he’s flat on his back and his body is screaming at him in pain - and then he realizes his legs aren’t. He can vaguely hear Dean yelling at the guy, telling him to leave or else, but most of his attention is focused on the lack of sensation he’s feeling in his legs. The only consolation he has is that he knows it will heal in a few days; he doesn’t know what he would do if he were paralyzed for the rest of his life because of a careless mistake he made trying to help.
Sam is mostly focusing on staying conscious when Dean focuses on him again. His expression is a mix of worry, exasperation, and the smallest hints of panic that he can’t bury under everything else. The panic comes through in his voice when he says “Sam? Sammy, you with me?” His hands are hovering over Sam’s body, trying to figure out where they should go to help.
“Here,” Sam rasps out weakly. There’s a deep gash running down his side, probably from the winshield, and Dean pulls off his shirt and folds it up before pressing it hard against the wound with one hand, grabbing his cell and calling 911 with the other. Sam fights the darkness crowding the edges of his vision, trying to focus on the sound of Dean’s voice to keep himself conscious. “Dean,” he mumbles, “I can’t…I can’t feel my legs.” He can hear Dean talking to him or possibly yelling, but it sounds like he’s underwater, and then Dean pushes harder on his side and the pain sweeps him away.
~*~*~*~
When Sam wakes up, he doesn’t feel any pain. He blinks his eyes open, yawns widely, and is about to push himself upright when Dean appears at his side. His brother looks like he hasn’t slept in days, bags under his eyes and a few days’ worth of stubble on his face. “Hey, hey, no movement, Sammy,” he says, gently pressing Sam back down.
Sam frowns at his brother. “Dean, I feel fine. Nothing hurts or anything. You look worse than I feel.”
Dean doesn’t look like he believes that. “The last thing you said to me was that you couldn’t feel your legs. Wiggle your toes.” Sam complies, watching the blanket move with his feet, and Dean seems to collapse into himself with relief and a quiet “Oh thank god.”
“What happened?” Sam asks, pushing himself into a sitting position. “I remember the drunk driver, kind of, but everything after that is fuzzy.”
Dean sits in the chair pulled up next to Sam’s bed, rubbing a hand over his face. “The dude driving the car got beat all to hell, man. Multiple deep cuts, internal bleeding, spinal damage, the works. And then you went to help, and he reached out at just the right moment, and he touched your leg. And suddenly he’s getting up like he’s fine and you’re flat on your back, screaming. I ran him off with orders to forget everything he saw - bastard was so trashed he probably has - and then I called an ambulance. Then you told me you couldn’t feel your legs and passed out. Ambulance got here, you got major surgery, you’ve been out of it until today.”
Sam stares at his brother. He’s never had to heal something that bad before; apparently he shouldn’t try to do it again unless he’s desperate. “I’m fine now,” he says, because Dean kind of looks like nobody but him thought Sam would pull through all those injuries.
“They lost you on the way to the hospital,” Dean says in a flat voice, like he’s trying not to think about what he’s saying. “They lost you again on the table. Every doctor who came to see you thought it was a miracle you were still alive at all. You just got off the fucking vent an hour ago.” He gets up and starts pacing, and Sam takes the opportunity to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “You can’t do this, Sam. You can’t go around and accidentally heal people who could have fatal wounds. Either you need to get this under control, or I’ll start making you walk around in a fucking Haz-Mat suit.” When Sam opens his mouth to protest, Dean glares daggers at him. “No, Sam. There is no arguing with this. There are enough things that nearly kill us on a daily basis, I am not letting you die because we walk past some kind of horrible accident and someone accidentally brushes you. It’s not happening. We’re getting this power of yours under control.”
Sam nods. He doesn’t disagree with his brother, not really, definitely not enough to go against Dean at his most over-protective. “I think we should go see Missouri,” he says as he hops off the bed and looks around for clothes to put on. “This is some kind of psychic power, which means Missouri is the only one who can help us.” He starts to turn, scanning the room. “Dude, where are some clothes for me to change into, I’m not staying in this fucking hospital gown a second longer. You can’t make me.”
Dean looks like he wants to protest, but then Sam turns around as he searches for more clothes and Dean claps a hand over his eyes. “Oh, God, get your naked ass away from me. I don’t like cutting and running without the docs checking you out one more time, but they’ll probably just freak out over your ‘miracle recovery’ anyways. I knew today was when your healing mojo would get you back to 100%. Please put pants on right the fuck now.”
Sam grins as he picks up the worn black hoodie that has become their unofficial “sick” hoodie recently, pulling his pants up with his other hand before removing the hospital gown. “So, next stop Missouri Moseley’s house?”
Dean nods as he checks for hospital personnel outside the room. “Fair warning, every time she whacks me with a spoon I’m whacking you too.”
~*~*~*~
Missouri greets the boys in typical Missouri fashion - she whacks Sam on the back of the head and scolds both of them for waiting so long to get help even as she lets them both in and brings them coffee. “Now,” she says as she settles into her own chair, “You’ve got to learn some control, Sam. Healing is serious business, you shouldn’t have let it go this long in the first place.” When Sam gives her an apologetic look she softens a little and says “Fortunately for you it’s also one of the easier powers to control.” She pulls out what Dean has dubbed her ‘whacking spoon’. “Let’s get started.”
They stay with Missouri for a little over two weeks while she helps Sam get control of the healing. By the time it is over Sam can choose when to heal, and his powers are strong enough that he can heal wounds without feeling the full effects himself. Missouri wouldn’t let them leave without a little help with the visions, too, so now Sam doesn’t get massive headaches before and after each vision, just faint little warning twinges when a vision is close. Dean was about ready to bow at her feet when she explained that; he settled for not putting his feet all over her furniture and trying to hover less when she was training Sam.
Life goes on as normal, hunt after hunt, and then Dad comes back. Sam is nervous about telling their dad about his powers, and Dean gets it, but how could this healing thing ever be seen as a negative? It ends up working out in Sam’s favor, though, and Dad leaves before they can really talk about anything. Sam was going to heal him, Dean could tell, because they all got busted up by the daevas but Dad definitely got the worst of it, but Dad says they’re stronger apart and rides off into the sunset and that ship sails.
They keep hunting, keep half-heartedly chasing the Yellow-Eyed Demon now that Dad basically told them to back off, and Sam’s healing gets better and better. By the time Dad comes back he’s able to heal a semi-deep cut without feeling any of the effects. Sam thinks it’s like building up a tolerance; the more he does it the less it affects him.
This turns out to be an extreme blessing once John leaves them in Salvation and everything goes to hell.
~*~*~*~
Sam is woozy and hurting from the demonic beatdown he got, and part of him is thanking Dean for not letting him heal their father before they had made a successful rescue because he’s definitely not up to it now. He peeks over his shoulder at Dad, who looks the same as he did when they left the building he was being held in, then looks over at Dean. Dean’s got a white-knuckle grip on the wheel, teeth clenched; Sam thinks he’s focusing so hard on the road so he doesn’t have to focus on how badly Dad might be hurt. “Where we heading?” he asks, wincing as his vision spins when he turns to face forward.
“Old cabin of Pastor Jim’s. You know, the one we stayed at for those two summers when you were in middle school.” Dean glances at him out of the corner of his eye in time to catch the tail end of the wince, and he frowns. “You ok over there? That was a pretty hard beating you took.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sam says. “Good thinking not letting me heal Dad at all, though. That would’ve sucked.”
Dean snorts. “Not a problem. In fact, blanket ban on healing anything until we know we’re home free, got it?”
Sam doesn’t say anything for a moment. He’s had a bad feeling ever since they found Dad, like something terrible is coming, and he refuses to make a promise like that when his intuition is bugging him the way it is now. Dean glares at him, and he shrugs; he’s not going to agree to this, and nothing Dean does will make him. Dean seems to accept the shrug, though, and they don’t talk for the rest of the drive to the cabin.
~*~*~*~
Sam really hated when his intuition turned out to be right.
Now the demon is gone, John has a bullet wound in his leg, and Dean is slowly bleeding onto the cabin floor. Sam knows that he shouldn’t take himself out of the game by healing any of them, not yet, but he’s already trying to figure out the best time to heal his brother. Dean was spitting up blood and that means serious internal injuries, which Sam will not let him have a second longer than necessary.
Sam makes a quick list of priorites; get Dad to the car, get Dean to the car, heal Dean so Dean can drive. Possibly apologize to Dean because he’ll be pissed about the healing. With a quick nod, Sam gets his arm under Dad’s, ignoring whatever he’s trying to say, and gets him settled in the passenger seat with the first aid kit. Then he goes back for Dean and kneels next to his brother. “You’re gonna be ok, man,” he says softly as he picks his brother up and carries him out to the car. Dean just nods weakly, doesn’t even push at Sam’s hold to try and walk on his own, and Sam’s heart twists in his chest even as his resolve firms.
When he reaches the Impala he sits down in the back seat, cradling Dean close to his chest, and turns to his dad. “So something I didn’t mention before is that I have a healing power,” he says calmly. “Don’t freak out.” Then he cups the back of his brother’s head and lets his power go. The situation instantly reverses into him leaning against Dean’s solid, healthy body as he gasps around the pain in his chest, even as the sound of Dean cussing him out brings a grin to his face. Dean manhandles Sam into the backseat, snarling “I thought I put a ban on healing until this was over,” as he lifts Sam’s legs in.
“It’s over enough,” Sam rasps, rolling his head to meet Dean’s eyes.
Something in Dean’s gaze softens, and he says “You’re gonna be ok, Sammy,” as he closes the car door and sprints around to the driver’s side. Sam can dimly hear Dean and Dad talking in the front seat, but listening would take too much effort at the moment and he lets himself drift, focusing on staying conscious and trying to give Dean reassuring looks in the rearview mirror when his brother flicks his gaze up.
He’s determined to hold on until Dean gets them to a hospital, but the semi that slams into them seems to have other plans and sends him into darkness.
~*~*~*~
Sam is a little surprised when he wakes up in a hospital bed and feels no pain. He blinks, turning his head from side-to-side in an attempt to find is family, and pushes himself into a sitting position when nobody is there. When that doesn’t make pain flare up anywhere, he pushes himself out of the bed and starts wandering, hoping to run into Dean or Dad. He tries asking the staff around him where his family is, but no one seems to even acknowledge his presence. He figures out the problem when he tries to tap a doctor on the shoulder only for his hand to go straight through - he’s a ghost.
Sam panics a little, but he quickly clamps down on it; he woke up in a room, not in the morgue, so some part of him is still alive. He sprints back to the room he was in when he woke, and himself laying in a bed with a tube down his throat and an almost ridiculous number of monitors attached to himself. Dean was standing next to his bed, listening to the doctors outline Sam’s condition.
When the doctor finally leaves Dean hangs his head for while, then reaches down to grasp Sam’s hand (his body’s hand, anyways). “You’re gonna be fine,” Dean says, squeezing the hand. “You just gotta hold on a couple more days, right? Then most of this will go away, and you’ll wake up, and we can get you out of here. Just hold on, ok, Sam? I owe you a beatdown for this, but you’ve got to stick around to receive it, ok?”
Sam wanted to reach out, let his brother now he was there, but his arm passed right through Dean’s body and he swallowed against the lump in his throat, nodding solidly. “I will,” he said, even though he knew Dean couldn’t hear him. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean.”
~*~*~*~
Three days later Sam’s body heals all the damage he took from Dean, leaving him with a pounding headache, sore ribs, and a wicked shiner from the Yellow-eyed Demon’s son and the car crash. Dean is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes.
Dean punches Sam in the arm as he sits up. “You ever do anything like that against and I’m gonna kill you, you jackass,” he says, even as he props Sam up to take the strain of his aching ribs. “And you get to be the one to explain this shit to Dad.”
Sam just grins; the demon may still be out there, but his family is alive and mostly well, so he’s willing to count this as a win.
Characters: Sam, Dean, John, Missouri
Rating: T
Words: 3115
Summary: While patching Dean up after their run-in with the Benders, Sam discovers that he has healing powers.
A/N: So this is from a prompt I saw a looooooooong time ago over at ohsam. To anyone who may have been tracking that prompt, I am SO SORRY it took me so long, but I'm done! It goes most noticeably AU after Devils Trap. I hope to someday write more in this universe, but I can't make promises. Big thanks to Lise and Renee for looking it over for me!
They figure it out completely by chance. When Sam touches Dean to change the bandages on the ugly burn the Benders left on his shoulder, he feels a flare of pain in his own shoulder and gasps, curling forward and clutching at his shoulder as he tries to breathe through it. Dean is kneeling in front of him when he can hear over the ringing in his ears, frantically asking questions. Sam uncurls slightly and allows his brother to check out his shoulder, and only freaks out a little bit when there’s a new burn wound that matches Dean’s. When they check Dean’s shoulder and find that wound gone, he stops freaking out altogether; a healing power is nothing compared to what he was afraid he could do.
Dean, of course, doesn’t see it this way. “So, what, you take someone’s aches and pains every time you touch them? What the fuck, Sam, how did you not notice that you were getting hurt whenever you touched someone who had anything wrong with them?” Sam is honestly waiting for a pathway to get worn through the motel carpet from Dean’s pacing.
“It’s never happened before,” Sam says patiently. “Or else it’s only been very recently, with small injuries like bruises and little cuts and stuff that I didn’t notice because it wasn’t a big deal. Honestly, this isn’t the worst thing that could happen, ok? I just have to be more careful about touching and stuff.”
Dean isn’t happy with the situation, but he has to admit that it’s not terrible when the burn is gone a few days later. Sam is just happy that he has a power that helps more than it hurts.
~*~*~*~
Sam puts a little bit of effort into trying to control the new power, and makes slow progress as time goes on, but it’s never at the top of his to-do list. Dean wants him to learn how to control it, but is content with the situation as long as Sam is careful about physical contact.
And then the accident happens.
Sam and Dean are walking from a bar to their motel, a few hundred dollars richer and both fairly buzzed, when they see a car swerving dangerously across the road, the driver obviously drunk. They back up as far away as they can get from the road just in time to be out of the way when the car swerves straight over the curve and into a lamp-post.
The impact throws the driver out of the car, and they roll a few times before coming to stop a few feet from the Winchesters; it’s a young man, probably not much older than Sam. Sam instinctively moves forward to help at the same time that the man groans and reaches out, groaning “Help me, please, it hurts,” and the man’s fingers make contact with the skin that’s showing between Sam’s jeans and sock as he kneels down.
The next thing Sam knows he’s flat on his back and his body is screaming at him in pain - and then he realizes his legs aren’t. He can vaguely hear Dean yelling at the guy, telling him to leave or else, but most of his attention is focused on the lack of sensation he’s feeling in his legs. The only consolation he has is that he knows it will heal in a few days; he doesn’t know what he would do if he were paralyzed for the rest of his life because of a careless mistake he made trying to help.
Sam is mostly focusing on staying conscious when Dean focuses on him again. His expression is a mix of worry, exasperation, and the smallest hints of panic that he can’t bury under everything else. The panic comes through in his voice when he says “Sam? Sammy, you with me?” His hands are hovering over Sam’s body, trying to figure out where they should go to help.
“Here,” Sam rasps out weakly. There’s a deep gash running down his side, probably from the winshield, and Dean pulls off his shirt and folds it up before pressing it hard against the wound with one hand, grabbing his cell and calling 911 with the other. Sam fights the darkness crowding the edges of his vision, trying to focus on the sound of Dean’s voice to keep himself conscious. “Dean,” he mumbles, “I can’t…I can’t feel my legs.” He can hear Dean talking to him or possibly yelling, but it sounds like he’s underwater, and then Dean pushes harder on his side and the pain sweeps him away.
~*~*~*~
When Sam wakes up, he doesn’t feel any pain. He blinks his eyes open, yawns widely, and is about to push himself upright when Dean appears at his side. His brother looks like he hasn’t slept in days, bags under his eyes and a few days’ worth of stubble on his face. “Hey, hey, no movement, Sammy,” he says, gently pressing Sam back down.
Sam frowns at his brother. “Dean, I feel fine. Nothing hurts or anything. You look worse than I feel.”
Dean doesn’t look like he believes that. “The last thing you said to me was that you couldn’t feel your legs. Wiggle your toes.” Sam complies, watching the blanket move with his feet, and Dean seems to collapse into himself with relief and a quiet “Oh thank god.”
“What happened?” Sam asks, pushing himself into a sitting position. “I remember the drunk driver, kind of, but everything after that is fuzzy.”
Dean sits in the chair pulled up next to Sam’s bed, rubbing a hand over his face. “The dude driving the car got beat all to hell, man. Multiple deep cuts, internal bleeding, spinal damage, the works. And then you went to help, and he reached out at just the right moment, and he touched your leg. And suddenly he’s getting up like he’s fine and you’re flat on your back, screaming. I ran him off with orders to forget everything he saw - bastard was so trashed he probably has - and then I called an ambulance. Then you told me you couldn’t feel your legs and passed out. Ambulance got here, you got major surgery, you’ve been out of it until today.”
Sam stares at his brother. He’s never had to heal something that bad before; apparently he shouldn’t try to do it again unless he’s desperate. “I’m fine now,” he says, because Dean kind of looks like nobody but him thought Sam would pull through all those injuries.
“They lost you on the way to the hospital,” Dean says in a flat voice, like he’s trying not to think about what he’s saying. “They lost you again on the table. Every doctor who came to see you thought it was a miracle you were still alive at all. You just got off the fucking vent an hour ago.” He gets up and starts pacing, and Sam takes the opportunity to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “You can’t do this, Sam. You can’t go around and accidentally heal people who could have fatal wounds. Either you need to get this under control, or I’ll start making you walk around in a fucking Haz-Mat suit.” When Sam opens his mouth to protest, Dean glares daggers at him. “No, Sam. There is no arguing with this. There are enough things that nearly kill us on a daily basis, I am not letting you die because we walk past some kind of horrible accident and someone accidentally brushes you. It’s not happening. We’re getting this power of yours under control.”
Sam nods. He doesn’t disagree with his brother, not really, definitely not enough to go against Dean at his most over-protective. “I think we should go see Missouri,” he says as he hops off the bed and looks around for clothes to put on. “This is some kind of psychic power, which means Missouri is the only one who can help us.” He starts to turn, scanning the room. “Dude, where are some clothes for me to change into, I’m not staying in this fucking hospital gown a second longer. You can’t make me.”
Dean looks like he wants to protest, but then Sam turns around as he searches for more clothes and Dean claps a hand over his eyes. “Oh, God, get your naked ass away from me. I don’t like cutting and running without the docs checking you out one more time, but they’ll probably just freak out over your ‘miracle recovery’ anyways. I knew today was when your healing mojo would get you back to 100%. Please put pants on right the fuck now.”
Sam grins as he picks up the worn black hoodie that has become their unofficial “sick” hoodie recently, pulling his pants up with his other hand before removing the hospital gown. “So, next stop Missouri Moseley’s house?”
Dean nods as he checks for hospital personnel outside the room. “Fair warning, every time she whacks me with a spoon I’m whacking you too.”
~*~*~*~
Missouri greets the boys in typical Missouri fashion - she whacks Sam on the back of the head and scolds both of them for waiting so long to get help even as she lets them both in and brings them coffee. “Now,” she says as she settles into her own chair, “You’ve got to learn some control, Sam. Healing is serious business, you shouldn’t have let it go this long in the first place.” When Sam gives her an apologetic look she softens a little and says “Fortunately for you it’s also one of the easier powers to control.” She pulls out what Dean has dubbed her ‘whacking spoon’. “Let’s get started.”
They stay with Missouri for a little over two weeks while she helps Sam get control of the healing. By the time it is over Sam can choose when to heal, and his powers are strong enough that he can heal wounds without feeling the full effects himself. Missouri wouldn’t let them leave without a little help with the visions, too, so now Sam doesn’t get massive headaches before and after each vision, just faint little warning twinges when a vision is close. Dean was about ready to bow at her feet when she explained that; he settled for not putting his feet all over her furniture and trying to hover less when she was training Sam.
Life goes on as normal, hunt after hunt, and then Dad comes back. Sam is nervous about telling their dad about his powers, and Dean gets it, but how could this healing thing ever be seen as a negative? It ends up working out in Sam’s favor, though, and Dad leaves before they can really talk about anything. Sam was going to heal him, Dean could tell, because they all got busted up by the daevas but Dad definitely got the worst of it, but Dad says they’re stronger apart and rides off into the sunset and that ship sails.
They keep hunting, keep half-heartedly chasing the Yellow-Eyed Demon now that Dad basically told them to back off, and Sam’s healing gets better and better. By the time Dad comes back he’s able to heal a semi-deep cut without feeling any of the effects. Sam thinks it’s like building up a tolerance; the more he does it the less it affects him.
This turns out to be an extreme blessing once John leaves them in Salvation and everything goes to hell.
~*~*~*~
Sam is woozy and hurting from the demonic beatdown he got, and part of him is thanking Dean for not letting him heal their father before they had made a successful rescue because he’s definitely not up to it now. He peeks over his shoulder at Dad, who looks the same as he did when they left the building he was being held in, then looks over at Dean. Dean’s got a white-knuckle grip on the wheel, teeth clenched; Sam thinks he’s focusing so hard on the road so he doesn’t have to focus on how badly Dad might be hurt. “Where we heading?” he asks, wincing as his vision spins when he turns to face forward.
“Old cabin of Pastor Jim’s. You know, the one we stayed at for those two summers when you were in middle school.” Dean glances at him out of the corner of his eye in time to catch the tail end of the wince, and he frowns. “You ok over there? That was a pretty hard beating you took.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sam says. “Good thinking not letting me heal Dad at all, though. That would’ve sucked.”
Dean snorts. “Not a problem. In fact, blanket ban on healing anything until we know we’re home free, got it?”
Sam doesn’t say anything for a moment. He’s had a bad feeling ever since they found Dad, like something terrible is coming, and he refuses to make a promise like that when his intuition is bugging him the way it is now. Dean glares at him, and he shrugs; he’s not going to agree to this, and nothing Dean does will make him. Dean seems to accept the shrug, though, and they don’t talk for the rest of the drive to the cabin.
~*~*~*~
Sam really hated when his intuition turned out to be right.
Now the demon is gone, John has a bullet wound in his leg, and Dean is slowly bleeding onto the cabin floor. Sam knows that he shouldn’t take himself out of the game by healing any of them, not yet, but he’s already trying to figure out the best time to heal his brother. Dean was spitting up blood and that means serious internal injuries, which Sam will not let him have a second longer than necessary.
Sam makes a quick list of priorites; get Dad to the car, get Dean to the car, heal Dean so Dean can drive. Possibly apologize to Dean because he’ll be pissed about the healing. With a quick nod, Sam gets his arm under Dad’s, ignoring whatever he’s trying to say, and gets him settled in the passenger seat with the first aid kit. Then he goes back for Dean and kneels next to his brother. “You’re gonna be ok, man,” he says softly as he picks his brother up and carries him out to the car. Dean just nods weakly, doesn’t even push at Sam’s hold to try and walk on his own, and Sam’s heart twists in his chest even as his resolve firms.
When he reaches the Impala he sits down in the back seat, cradling Dean close to his chest, and turns to his dad. “So something I didn’t mention before is that I have a healing power,” he says calmly. “Don’t freak out.” Then he cups the back of his brother’s head and lets his power go. The situation instantly reverses into him leaning against Dean’s solid, healthy body as he gasps around the pain in his chest, even as the sound of Dean cussing him out brings a grin to his face. Dean manhandles Sam into the backseat, snarling “I thought I put a ban on healing until this was over,” as he lifts Sam’s legs in.
“It’s over enough,” Sam rasps, rolling his head to meet Dean’s eyes.
Something in Dean’s gaze softens, and he says “You’re gonna be ok, Sammy,” as he closes the car door and sprints around to the driver’s side. Sam can dimly hear Dean and Dad talking in the front seat, but listening would take too much effort at the moment and he lets himself drift, focusing on staying conscious and trying to give Dean reassuring looks in the rearview mirror when his brother flicks his gaze up.
He’s determined to hold on until Dean gets them to a hospital, but the semi that slams into them seems to have other plans and sends him into darkness.
~*~*~*~
Sam is a little surprised when he wakes up in a hospital bed and feels no pain. He blinks, turning his head from side-to-side in an attempt to find is family, and pushes himself into a sitting position when nobody is there. When that doesn’t make pain flare up anywhere, he pushes himself out of the bed and starts wandering, hoping to run into Dean or Dad. He tries asking the staff around him where his family is, but no one seems to even acknowledge his presence. He figures out the problem when he tries to tap a doctor on the shoulder only for his hand to go straight through - he’s a ghost.
Sam panics a little, but he quickly clamps down on it; he woke up in a room, not in the morgue, so some part of him is still alive. He sprints back to the room he was in when he woke, and himself laying in a bed with a tube down his throat and an almost ridiculous number of monitors attached to himself. Dean was standing next to his bed, listening to the doctors outline Sam’s condition.
When the doctor finally leaves Dean hangs his head for while, then reaches down to grasp Sam’s hand (his body’s hand, anyways). “You’re gonna be fine,” Dean says, squeezing the hand. “You just gotta hold on a couple more days, right? Then most of this will go away, and you’ll wake up, and we can get you out of here. Just hold on, ok, Sam? I owe you a beatdown for this, but you’ve got to stick around to receive it, ok?”
Sam wanted to reach out, let his brother now he was there, but his arm passed right through Dean’s body and he swallowed against the lump in his throat, nodding solidly. “I will,” he said, even though he knew Dean couldn’t hear him. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean.”
~*~*~*~
Three days later Sam’s body heals all the damage he took from Dean, leaving him with a pounding headache, sore ribs, and a wicked shiner from the Yellow-eyed Demon’s son and the car crash. Dean is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes.
Dean punches Sam in the arm as he sits up. “You ever do anything like that against and I’m gonna kill you, you jackass,” he says, even as he props Sam up to take the strain of his aching ribs. “And you get to be the one to explain this shit to Dad.”
Sam just grins; the demon may still be out there, but his family is alive and mostly well, so he’s willing to count this as a win.