Just One Fix (2/?)
The doctor seems genuinely sympathetic when he tells them the news; there was nothing that they could do for Jess, she was as good as dead from the moment that the dog shot out in the road and Sam applied the brakes. Sam got lucky; the broken seatbelt in his car - the one that Mary had nagged and nagged at him to have fixed - had saved his life.
A piece of the plastic had snapped off, pinning Sam against the seat even as the car careened over the railing and flipped twice, the horrific accident stopping suddenly when the car slammed into the trunk of an oak tree a little ways down the incline. He’d received a head injury that had initially been some cause for concern, but tests had revealed that it was nothing major, and he’d since been taken into surgery.
When they’d hit the tree, a branch had gone straight through the windshield - forcing the piece of plastic that had been holding Sam still straight through his side. If the driver of a passing car hadn’t pulled over to call 911, he’d have been dead within the hour. It was a daunting thought.
“What now?” Dean forces out around the lump in his throat.
“We’ve contacted Jessica’s parents,” Dr Radcliffe tells him. “All you can really do is wait. Barring no complications, Sam should be out of surgery within a matter of hours - I’ll arrange for a nurse to come and collect you as soon as he’s been settled into a room.”
Dean sinks into the cold plastic of the seat, eyes watching the seconds tick by on the clock, and dips his head - listens to his mother’s breathing and wishes he could just wake up and have this whole thing be a nightmare.
It never happens.
The first thing Dean thinks upon entering the room is that his brother looks fragile.
In Dean’s opinion, there’s always been something a little bit breakable about Sam. Perhaps it was his brother’s friendly nature and those puppy dog eyes, or perhaps it was the big brother in Dean, but he’d never really seen him as strong in the same way that he always saw his father. The way he’d always seen himself.
It isn’t until he sees his brother surrounded by beeping machines and wires, as pale as the sheets beneath him and stiller than Dean’s ever seen him, that he realises that he’s never really seen Sam as weak, either.
Dean’s not too big to admit that it scares him.
His mother takes it all in stride; she hesitates for a few seconds in the doorway, sucking in a hitching little breath and holding it for a few seconds, and then she’s as steady as ever, taking the seat by Sam’s hand and gently lacing their hands together.
“You gave us quite the scare,” She tells his unconscious form. “But the doctor says that you’re going to be just fine - maybe a few war wounds, but nothing that we can’t live with.”
Dean thinks of the way that Sam looked at Jessica; he remembers the light in his eyes and the smile on his face as he’d lifted his hand to show everyone the ring, and he wonders if his mother’s right. The doctor’s verdict is that Sam will be fine; Dean’s not sure that his brother will ever be fine again.
Mary eventually forces Dean to go home and grab a shower, take the time to get dressed properly - in his haste, he’d only thrown on sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie that he’s half convinced used to be Sam’s. Carmen’s there waiting for him, concern written clear as day across her features, and the first thing she does when he walks through the door is pull him into a tight hug.
Dean thinks of that dream hug, that perfect fourth of July with his baby brother - the dream that had never become a reality because of him, and for the first time since he’d answered the phone to his mom’s panicked voice, he cries.
Carmen rubs his back and doesn’t say a word.
Almost predictably, Sam wakes up when Dean’s completely out of reach - driving towards the hospital, Carmen in the passenger seat. She answers the phone for him, relays the message and doesn’t say a word when the Impala begins to go gradually faster.
He rushes through the hospital, Carmen’s shorter legs barely managing to keep stride, and he makes it to Sam’s room in record time. The drive had taken forty minutes, despite his best attempts at breaking any and all speed laws known to man, and he can see two police officers at the end of the hall.
Mary opens the door when Dean hesitates, offering him a small smile.
“I’ll give you boys some time.” She tells him softly, kissing him on the cheek and heading out into the hallway with Carmen. “He really needs his brother right now.”
The warning is clear as day in her tone, and Dean can’t blame her for her caution, but the reminder isn’t necessary. The second that he sees Sam’s red-rimmed eyes he’s officially in big brother mode, ignoring the chair in favour of settling onto the bed next to his brother’s hip.
“Dean,” Sam breathes, lifting his eyes to meet his brother’s. Dean grins at him, but it’s like it gets lost in translation. The heartbreak on Sam’s face makes his own heart skip a beat, dismayed at the idea of his little brother looking so utterly broken. “Dean. Oh, God. I... I killed her. I killed her over a stupid dog.”
Seconds later he’s sobbing, and Dean leans over and pulls him close, letting his own tears fall into Sam’s hair when his brother buries his face in the older boy’s neck.
“I killed her,” He mutters over and over. “It’s all my fault. I killed her.”
It’s another two hours before Sam drifts into a fretful sleep and Dean finally allows himself to move from his brother’s side. He tracks one of the police officers down to the canteen, and orders himself the biggest cup of coffee they have, listening intently as the officer explains by accident.
A man on the other side of the road had set his dog free, probably hoping that the next driver that happened upon it wouldn’t have time to break - it was a pitiful thing, from the way the bystander had described it, and it was a miracle that Sam had seen it in time. Somehow, he had, and he’d slammed on the breaks.
The wheels had lost traction in the rain, and the car had spun completely out of control. The officer described the car’s movements in detail - from the first instant that it had lost control, to the final moment that it had slammed into that tree, Sam bleeding out and the love of his life dead in the passenger seat.
“It wasn’t Sam’s fault,” The man reassures. “There was nothing that he could have done - he did everything by the book. The man that let his dog go has been arrested. I doubt he’ll get off on anything, he’ll be serving jail time for sure.”
Dean nods absently, feeling sick to the stomach as he realises for the first time that it had been a whole five minutes before Sam’s car had crashed into that tree - five minutes where Sam and Jess had been both alive and conscious, terrified and completely out of control.
The dog’s fine.
