Triage (11/12, PG13, Dean, Sam, John, Jim)
Title: Triage
Disclaimer: I own neither Supernatural nor its characters.
Rating: PG13 so far. Might be R later, but I doubt it.
Pairings: None.
Characters: Dean, Sam, John, Pastor Jim, OCs.
Wordcount: 2715.
Warning: Grammar (unbetaed!). I'm really really sorry about the tenses, guys...
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Sometimes you think you made the right call, only to realize you've made a really big mistake...
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Chapter Eleven
Two more days went by; two more days of nail biting, pacing and sleeping in uncomfortable chairs. Two more days of talking to one kid who was too stubborn to listen and to another that wouldn't talk back.
John could feel himself wearing thin. He had to keep reminding himself his boys were doing better, that both his boys were doing better, even if he couldn’t see any real difference in Dean's condition.
But the surgery had gone without a hitch, and the doctors seemed optimistic, so John allowed himself to hope.
He'd spent hours talking to Jim about this, about what they were about to do, and even though he wasn’t quite sure they were making the right decision, he figured it was time.
Sam was finally able to sit up for more than ten minutes at a time without breaking into cold sweat. He was finally allowed back on a solid-foods diet. And John had made him a promise. You could say a lot about John Winchester, but he was a man who kept his promises.
"You think he's going to wake up soon?" Sam asked, all restless energy as John wheeled him into the elevator.
The wheelchair wasn’t his idea, but it was the only way Sam could get out of bed, and John had no problem with it. In fact, he figured it was a good idea for Sam to be sitting down when he saw his brother anyway.
"I don’t know, kiddo," John said and pushed the button for the fifth floor. "He's still on those drugs, so I'm guessing no. At least not until he's off 'em."
"Did they tell you when they'll take him off the drugs?" Sam inquired.
"They said something about his CAT scans, but I only understood about a third of what they were saying," John admitted.
Sam turned his head up to look at his father. "Didn’t you ask?"
John sighed. "You said the creature hit your brother over the head, right?" he asked.
"Yeah," Sam said, "With a branch or something."
"They think he fell on something, too," John said, "He had a big goose egg on his forehead, but he cracked his skull, too."
"When he fell?" Sam asked. John shrugged. Sam rolled his eyes. "Typical," he muttered, making John smile.
"Well, your brother doesn’t like to do anything half way, does he?"
The elevator doors opened with a 'ding' and John rolled Sam out and down the hallway leading to Dean's room.
He could feel the change in Sam's demeanor straight away. His youngest stopped talking as soon as the elevator doors opened, and seemed to have shrunk back a little.
"You okay?" John asked, making sure. "We don’t have to do this right now," he said, a hint of a question in his voice.
Sam shook his head. "No. No, I want to see him," he insisted, and John said nothing else as they got closer to Dean's room.
Latisha, the floor nurse, was there to meet them. She smiled at John, who nodded back at her, and then crouched down so she could be at eye-level with Sam.
"Hi there, Sam," she said, "My name is Latisha," she introduced herself. Sam offered her a nervous smile.
"Before you go in there to see your brother, I thought it would be a good idea to explain to you what you're going to see," she said slowly.
Sam twisted his head up to look at his father, and for the first time, John could recognize fear in his son's eyes. He squeezed Sam's shoulder and kept his hand there.
"Do you need us to change?" John asked, but Latisha shook her head.
"No, he's doing much better today," she said, "You don’t need the scrubs anymore."
"You hear that, Sammy?" John smiled at his youngest, "Your brother's doing much better."
Sam offered him a weak smile, and John rubbed gently at his shoulder.
"Are you ready?" Latisha asked, and Sam offered her a small nod.
"Okay," she said, "Now, when you go in to see your brother, this is what you're going to see," she started, "Your brother has a tube down his throat to help him breathe…"
"What? Why?" Sam asked, alarmed.
"Because of the drugs," John answered calmly and crouched down next to his son, covering Sam's hand with his own. "Remember I told you they gave him some drugs to induce a coma until the swelling in his head goes down?"
Sam gave a small nod, his face losing a shade of color or two.
"Well, the tube down his throat makes sure he's breathing, even though he's in a coma," Latisha said gently.
She looked at John in askance and he nodded for her to go on. "Your brother also has a tube down his nose. It's called an NG tube, and it helps us feed him," she explained.
Sam made a face. "He eats through his nose?" he grimaced, "Gross."
Latisha smiled. "The tube goes all the way to his stomach, so it's not really that gross," she said.
Sam's eyes widened and he turned a little green. "Through his nose?" he repeated.
"He also has a tube in his chest," the nurse continued. "It's called a central line. We use it for his IV, to give him the medicines he needs," she explained.
"I know what an IV is," Sam cut her off, "But why is it in his chest? Don't you usually stick an IV into an arm or something?"
"Usually." Latisha conceded, "But this is better in your brother's case. This way the medicine gets to where it needs to go faster."
"Oh," Sam said and lowered his eyes. It was a lot to take in, but the nurse wasn’t finished yet.
"There are a lot of machines in the room," Latisha went on, "We use them so we can monitor your brother. So we can know if anything goes wrong the moment it does, and we can get him the help he needs really fast."
"Okay," Sam said, glancing at his old man. John squeezed his hand.
"Those machines, sometimes they beep or make noises, but that doesn’t necessarily mean there's something wrong," Latisha continued, "Sometimes those machines just beep."
"I know that, I'm not a little kid," Sam rolled his eyes, and for a millisecond, John could see Dean in the boy sitting in front of him, all false bravado and smiles. But then he blinked and it was Sam again.
"Those machines are connected to your brother with wires," Latisha kept going, "And most of those wires go under his gown, so when you see those wires, you shouldn’t be worried, okay?"
Sam frowned at that, and then turned to look at John. The look lasted a little longer than John would have liked. He knew then that Sam had figured it out.
"It's not just his head, is it?" Sam asked in a small voice. Sometimes John really hated the fact that his son was so damn smart. "Dad?"
John smiled at him, trying to be as reassuring as he could. "No, kiddo," he said, "It's not just his head."
"How bad?" Sam's voice quivered a little.
"You heard what Latisha said right? He's doing much better."
"He has a tube down his throat to help him breathe, and he's in a coma. And that's better?" Sam shrieked.
He was getting worked up over this, and John was starting to have second thoughts.
"Sammy, maybe we should wait," he said, "You're getting too excited, and I'm sure it's not good for you. Maybe you should rest and then later…"
"No way!" Sam snapped. "No, I want to see him!" he insisted.
"Are you sure?" John asked.
Sam swallowed hard and nodded.
John nodded and got back to his feet. "Okay then," he said, and with a nod from Latisha, he wheeled Sam over and into Dean's room.
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Jim was reading a newspaper when John and Sam got in the room. He took his glasses off, put the paper aside and got to his feet.
"Sam," he smiled at the youngest Winchester, "How are you feeling today?" he asked, but Sam didn’t answer.
His eyes were glued to the still form of his brother.
John wheeled his chair over to Dean's bed, and then took a step back, trying to give Sam as much privacy as he could without leaving the room.
Sam's hand hovered over Dean's but he didn’t touch him.
"It's okay," John said softly, "You can hold his hand if you want, it's okay," he added with what he'd hoped was an encouraging nod.
But Sam just pulled his hand back. He glanced over his shoulder at his father and his friend, and then looked back at his brother.
Dean looked better than he did the first time John had seen him. He still had the bandages on his head, and a small one over the stitches in his cheek, but he wasn't so pale. Mostly, he looked like he was asleep; that is, if you ignored the tubes and the wires and the monitors.
"Dean," Sam whispered, and John could see the tears pooling in his eyes.
If anything, it was Sam that had changed.
For all his insistence and stubbornness, for all his bravado, when Sam finally saw his brother, he'd lost all color in his face. He just sat there in his wheel chair and stared, wide-eyed and scared.
A tear rolled down his cheek when he turned back to John. "Is he going to die?" Sam asked in a shaky whisper.
John had to blink tears out of his own eyes. He did the best he could to put on a smile and walked over to his sons. Crouching next to Sam, he took the boy's hand to get his attention.
"No, kiddo. He's not going to die," John said, and hoped to God that it was the truth.
Sam turned to look at his brother. "He looks so…" he shook his head unable to continue.
"I know. I know, Sammy," John said and got to his feet. He kissed the top of Sam's head. "I know how this looks, but he is getting better. He is going to wake up. And when he does, he will tease you for crying like a little girl," John said, fighting to keep the smile on his face.
"Shuddup," Sam muttered, but John knew his words found their mark.
"How did he get like this?" Sam asked, glancing at John, "How did he get this bad if he just got knocked out?"
"Because he wasn’t just knocked out," John answered.
Sam frowned. "I don’t understand," he said.
"It got to him," John said, and glanced at his oldest. "It probably moved too fast for you to see, or it came back after it got to you and you missed it, but it got to him. And it hurt him."
"But… I don’t understand…" Sam shook his head, "He… he helped me. He drove me here…"
John nodded.
He fought many things in his lifetime, human and supernatural, but fighting to keep a smile on his face at that moment was one of the toughest battles he'd fought.
"I know he did. He did it to help you," he said. He did it because I told him to.
"I want him to wake up," Sam said simply, his hand hovering over Dean's again, but he still didn’t touch him.
"Me too, kiddo. Me too."
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John had taken Jim up on his offer for another quick trip back to the apartment after he got Sam back to his own ward and waited for his youngest to calm down.
John had showered and shaved, changed his clothes and even brought back Sam's favorite pencil - along with few other "necessities" his youngest had insisted upon.
The weather was pretty bad outside following another snow storm that hit the town, but the hospital was kept quite warm. John walked slowly down the hallway to Dean's room, soaking up the heat.
Jim was reading out loud when John walked inside. He had his reading glasses on and his back to the door, so he hadn’t notice John coming in, or if he had, he didn’t show it.
John stood in the doorway and listen to the pastor reading to his son. It took a minute or so for John to realize what it was his old friend was reading.
A smile crept onto John's lips and, unable to stop himself, he laughed.
Jim stopped reading and turned his head back to look at John, removing his glasses from his eyes. "Something funny, John?" the pastor asked.
John shook his head. "I was just… You're reading from the Bible," he said, "You're reading Dean the Bible."
Jim used his finger as a bookmark and closed the book in his hand. He turned further in his seat, eyes locked on the other hunter. "And that if funny, how?" he asked flatly.
"Come on, Jim," John said and entered the room, "You know my kid. If he were the one walking in on this?" John raised his brows, as if to imply Jim knew what he was talking about.
The pastor kept staring at him.
"Come on, we're trying to wake him up, not put him into a deeper coma," John said with a smile.
Jim turned back to face the unconscious teen in the bed in front of him and opened the book again. "But since you are an adult, you appreciate the gesture and of course you'd like me to continue," the pastor said with no ounce of humor in his voice.
John raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sure, you can keep going if you want," he said, "Just don’t expect me to believe this crap is actually going to help my son."
Jim gave him a pointed look and then sighed. "You should have more faith, John," he said.
John snorted. "Yeah," he drawled, "That ship had sailed when I realized what killed my wife, Jim."
"God has His reasons," the pastor replied calmly.
"No offence, Pastor, but God's a spoiled five-year-old with an entire world to dick around," John said. Jim glared at him and John shrugged. "Hey, if it makes you feel better, Murphy, go right ahead," he said simply.
Jim closed his book with a huff. "You went to see Sam?" he asked, changing the subject.
John's faced darkened at that. He nodded. "Yes. They told me they're probably going to discharge him tomorrow," he said.
"That's good news," Jim said, getting to his feet. John nodded, but said nothing. Jim frowned. "John?" he prompted, "These are good news," he said.
"I guess," John sighed. "I mean, it is. It's good news that he's better," he quickly added, "It's just… I felt better knowing he was here, just a couple of floors away, you know? And now I'll have to get him back to the apartment and that's a twenty minute drive…"
"I can stay with him," Jim offered.
John smiled, this time in gratitude. "Thanks," he said, "Thank you, Jim. I mean it. For all you've done for us. It's just…"
"You want your son close," Murphy finished the sentence for him and John nodded.
"Yeah."
"I'm sure if we talked to the nurses we could arrange something. Maybe they could bring another bed over, maybe even in the hallway…"
"No," John cut his friend off. "No, I don’t want Sam here. I don’t want him seeing Dean like this. Not yet. Not until he wakes up," he said.
"Is he still scared?" Jim asked gently.
"Wouldn’t let me leave. Not until that kid from school came by to see him, and even then he wanted to blow the kid off."
Jim looked at Dean for a long moment. "It's not an easy thing, watching your brother like this. Watching Dean like this," he said softly. "This is so…" he shook his head, "So not like Dean."
"Tell me about it," John said.
"So I'm taking him to the apartment?" Jim asked after a moment of silence.
"Yeah."
"Keep us posted," Jim asked.
John's lips curled up in a small smile. "Good luck," he told his friend.
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