OhSam Triple Play 2015!
The comm hosted this little event a couple of years ago, and as November 2 is an auspicious day for our darling Sam, today would be the perfect time to revisit this challenge. Welcome to the Triple Play 2015!
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Sam closed his eyes and took deep breaths until his head felt clearer. When he opened his eyes again, Dean was looking down at him, visible in flashlight. “Sue called 911,” Sam said. Then he raised his head. His boot as sitting on a chunk of wood so his leg was raised and there was a long shard of glass sticking out of his thigh. Which was weird because it was the back of his thigh that hurt. Just some glass in his leg. Right. “Dean? Is it all the way through?”
“Yep,” Dean said. “And it’s going to stay there until the professionals pull it out.” He was pulling his belt through his belt loops.
“Good plan,” Sam said, feeling a little sick. Pull it out and he’d probably bleed like a drinking fountain. At least it wasn’t near the femoral artery.
“Next time, you lead everybody to the promised land,” Dean said. He looped his belt around Sam’s thigh above the shard.
“The promised land?” Sam said.
“Dude, it was a beer cooler.” Dean pulled the belt tight into a makeshift tourniquet and Sam gasped. “I’m gonna go find some Gatorade in that mess. Stay here.”
“Check the Impala,” Sam managed.
#
The good news was that the Impala had been parked next to one of the non-glass walls and other than some scratches, a flat tire, and a blown out back window was in good shape. The Gatorade Dean found was clear for which Sam was grateful. Dean’s preference was for the blue stuff. Sam considered it a color not found in nature. Although honestly, in the dark, he wasn’t sure it mattered. Once the storm had passed the temperature dropped. Not a lot, but down from the pre-storm humid stillness. Lying on the wet pavement in wet clothes was cold.
“Sam?” asked Sue, “Can I take a picture of your leg? Is that tacky?”
“No,” Sam said. “It’s okay. Just can you make sure no one can tell who I am?”
“Okay. I hate to have my picture taken, too.”
Sam did kind of hate to have his picture taken but mostly it was just habit. No photos of his face in the media.
Time was starting to move in little jumps. He’d close his eyes, open them, have the sense that he’d missed a chunk.
Dean knelt down and took his wrist, searching for pulse. Sam knew he was breathing too fast. Everything felt a little too far away. “How you doing,” Dean asked.
“Just don’t ask me to dance,” Sam said.
“Have you seen you dancing? It’s kind of scary.” Dean pulled his other foot up on the wood so both feet were elevated. “I’m giving them another thirty minutes and then I’m putting you in the back seat of the Impala and heading for a hospital.”
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“How long has it been?” Sam asked.
“Almost two hours.”
“Time’s jumping,” Sam said. “Like with Gadreel.”
He heard Dean’s sharp intake of breath.
“Sorry,” Sam said. “Kind of out of it.”
“It’s okay,” Dean said quietly and there was a hand on his forehead. “Just rest, okay?”
He closed his eyes again and Dean was saying, “Sam. Sammy.” He opened his eyes and red lights were splashing across everything, the sound of an EMT truck bouncing over the curb. “Sam? Come on little brother. Eyes here.”
Sam blinked at Dean. “Shock,” he tried to say but no sound came out.
“Took you long enough,” Dean growled at someone.
“There’s an entire subdivision that’s just basically matchsticks and trees down blocking the roads", said a woman’s voice. An EMT leaned over him and said, “Hi, can you tell me your name?” She had blond hair pulled back in a pony tail and looked so clean and dry.
“Sam,” he said and this time sound came out. “No medications or…allergies.”
“Well, Sam no medications or allergies, you know the drill. Are you in the health profession?”
He shook his head. “Accident prone,” he said.
He heard Dean laugh and felt his brother squeeze his hand. “You have no idea,” Dean said.
“This is a pretty impressive accident,” the EMT said.
“He saved me!” Sue said from behind him where he couldn’t see, sounding very young.
The EMT put a blood pressure cuff on him. “I’m Patty. Base, I’ve got a thirty-three year old male with a puncture wound through the right thigh and multiple abrasions. Blood pressure 90 over 78, tachycardic, patient is cold and clammy. He’s got a shard of glass going all the way through his leg. Going to need a surgeon.” To Dean, “How long ago, during the tornado?”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “I’ve been giving him Gatorade.”
“That’s smart.”
“Like he said, he’s prone to accidents.”
Sam lifted his hand (which was somehow incredibly heavy) and gave Dean the finger.
The EMT laughed. “Patient is responsive. Preparing to transport.”
“I’ll be there, Sam,” Dean said. “I’m coming with the Impala. We’ll get you fixed up.”
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They were back at the Bunker three days later. Castiel had healed the post-op. “This freaking long,” Dean explained, holding up his hands.
“It was not,” Sam said. “Every time you tell it, it gets longer. It’s like a fishing story.” He preferred not to think about it.
“What’s a fishing story?” Cas asked. He was sitting at the table with Sam while Dean leaned against the counter.
“When fisherman tell stories about catching fish, every time they tell the story, the fish gets bigger,” Sam said, showing with his hands. He went back to his laptop. There was still news of the aftermath of the tornadoes all over the Internet. He clicked on a link about Hobart, hoping he could show Cas where they were. People survive in beer cooler or something.
There was his leg. And the freaking piece of glass.
“What’d you find,” Dean asked. He came behind Sam. “I WAS RIGHT! THERE IT IS!” It was Sue’s photo. The headline was NO DEATHS THREE INJURED IN HOBART and under it, Sam’s leg. Dean was ecstatic. “Look at the size of that, Cas! Did I exaggerate?”
Cas studied the photo while Sam cringed. “No, you did not. That looks very painful, Sam.”
Dean shrugged, “He was in shock most of the time. I was hoping they’d give him the piece of glass. You know, like they used to give people their tonsils in a little jar.”
“Thanks, Cas. It actually hurt a lot,” Sam said.
And Dean had been worried but you’d have to know Dean to know it. Sam knew. He remembered Dean’s hand on his forehead. He remembered Dean telling him to rest.
Sometimes, though, Sam wished Dean would show it just a little better.
Fin
(Apologies: I can't clear my throat in less than 5,000 words.)
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The natural as much a threat as the supernatural, yeah. You've been in this landscape, I know; I feel it.
So great!
P.S. I wish I could clear my throat in more than 500 words, heh.
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Plus, I really enjoyed all the tornado safety information. Awesome fic! Thank you for sharing :)
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And I found it sweet and so true to character that Sam would stop and explain what a fishing story was to Cas.
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It's also a real town in western Oklahoma. I picked it randomly. :)
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