FIC: He Will be Loved, 1/1, PG13, Gen
He Will Be Loved
Tag set in the last chapter of Retribution, a year before Sam's 18th birthday celebration.
Sam's doing ok, getting better all the time but, when his family are called away on an emergency hunt, he sits at the window, watching and waiting anxiously...
A happy ending, as always.
Brain trauma Sam/Sick Sam.
Worried, loving Dean and John.
Caring Bobby.
OC Sam's primary care giver: Toni - almost a Mary Poppins-type, but less strict, just a little bit based on me, so you know the Winchesters are in safe hands.
Depending on how you feel about schoomp, you'll either need a box of tissues,
or a bucket to throw up in.
I needed this after Blueyeddemonliz told me to watch 'Charlie St Cloud'.
Liz? I bawled my bloody eyes out from the very moment after the accident near the beginning of the film, and all the way through to the end.
No beta so all mistakes are mine.
For Devon99's birthday.
Hope you have a great day, hon.
Toni folded the sheets, and sighed when a small, broken sob echoed from the window.
Sam had soiled his bed, the fifth time since his brother, father and uncle were emotionally blackmailed into a hunt several states away. Poor kid was in serious distress right from the outset, but now he was bordering on severe depression.
Toni dropped the dirty sheets in the laundry hamper, and headed over to the boy.
"Hey Sam, sweetie," she crooned, arms curling round him. "They'll be back in a few days. I promise."
The youngster shivered and whimpered, his hand still plastered to the bedroom window, a sure sign he was still looking for his family. Scared, sad eyes trained on Toni for a short while, then turned back to their long running vigil. At least he wasn't violently shoving her away this time.
He'd come to trust her at last, though it was a battle hard won over the last few weeks.
Toni grabbed another blanket from the wardrobe. Wrapping it around her charge, she hummed a few notes from Metallica's Nothing Else Matters, until the kid gradually fell asleep, his hand slipping weakly down the glass and coming to rest on Toni's lap.
With a soft chuckle, she gently caught his chin, moved closer around him, like a human blanket, and hummed softly in his ear.
"Sleep well, m'darlin,'" she whispered, stroking his hair affectionately. "They'll be home before you know it." I hope.
That boy made her want to cry harder than she ever thought possible, harder than she'd ever cried in her entire, considerably long career. His insomnia and constant vigil at the window had made him dangerously sick, and Toni had been worried they were going to lose Sam.
She marvelled at how much the kid loved his brother, that he could pine himself into a life threatening illness.
After everything the poor kid had been through and survived, that would have been the cruellest joke the universe could have thrown at him.
Toni had been given only a vague idea of Sam's injuries following his attack and kidnapping the previous year, the rest she worked out for herself. She bathed the kid, after all, and some of those scars had yet some time to fade. If they ever would.
She could read his young body like a map. A map to some of the darkest places no child should ever have to go.
The healed marks on his wrists and arms told her of his struggle against some kind of restraints. Other spine chilling contusions stood out on his pale torso. When she washed his hair every night, gently massaging in the shampoo, her fingers would brush over bumps and harsh edges, and not all of them were from the stent used to drain fluid from his cerebellum following surgery.
Then there were other scars, much lower down, suggesting a terrible violation… those had been the ones that made Toni want to cry the most.
John and Bobby had taken her aside and quietly explained, sparingly, what had happened to Sam, about the brain trauma, how it was slowly healing. The older brother, Dean, had watched her with narrowed, ever so slightly suspicious eyes from the sofa where he was gently rocking his little brother in his arms, whispering of his return once the hunt was concluded. He clearly didn't want to leave Sam with a stranger, despite Toni being daughter to an old friend of Bobby Singer's. In fact, Dean didn't want to leave at all, but the hunt was apparently too dangerous, and more hunters were needed. It would be a onetime favour, and Dean felt compelled to go. John hadn't even asked him, told him to stay with Sam, but Dean's protectiveness, it seemed, extended beyond younger siblings to his father and uncle. Sam, at least, would be safe in Bobby's home with a qualified nurse watching over him.
John and Bobby, along with only four others, however, were facing an entire pack of werewolves. Dean was needed, but just this once.
"You take care of him, ya hear me?" Dean had uttered, as he brushed past Toni on his way out. His tone, whilst soft, had only just fallen short of threatening. Sam, still sat on Bobby's raggedy old couch, had stared after his brother, eyes filled with confusion.
Toni had nodded in understanding. She was used to dealing with protective families in her specialist line of work, and didn't take offence. Injured hunters were one thing, but when it came to their kids? They were more ferocious than any wounded bear.
Sam's face had been awash with tears as Dean gifted his brother with one last, fond smile, and disappeared out the door after John and Bobby.
It was at this point, young Sam exploded with grief.
The tantrum was fairly typical of a four year old, with screaming, tearing at his hair, throwing himself off the sofa, thumping his head against the floor boards and virtually having a seizure. To the untrained eye, he was like a spoilt brat who couldn't get his own way. But Toni knew better.
In Sam's eyes, he had just seen his only family walk away from him. He didn't, couldn't understand why they were leaving him, or that they were coming back. He hadn't understood a word Dean said to him, none of his big brother's reassurances had made any sense. It must have been devastating for him.
The boy had reacted badly when Toni tried to comfort him, though it wasn't his fault. He hadn't known what he was doing in his anguish and fear, and a flailing fist had caught her on the side of the jaw.
She'd received worse over the years, so she shrugged it off with a twinge of admiration. Kid had one hell of a right hook.
But that was weeks ago, and Toni hadn't heard from his family since they left. Tracking and studying the werewolf pack would've taken a lot of time and patience, but... not a phone call, an email or even a text? She was getting worried about them, and worried about Sam as he became increasingly withdrawn and quiet. While she didn't miss the tantrums, those sad, expressive eyes, silently begging her to bring his family back she could have done without.
The days grew shorter, the wind turned colder. Winter came late this year.
Still Sam watched at the window, unknowing or, perhaps, uncaring of the chilled draught coming in under the sash.
He just sniffed, tugged the blanket tighter around his thin frame, ignored the hot soup offered by his nurse, and rested his head against the glass.
He barely ate or slept, in fact, and as the days dragged on, his shoulders became more slumped, as though burdened by a heavy weight.
Toni was beginning to despair.
Sniffles had turned into shivers and coughs.
The slight pyrexia became a full on fever.
Toni packed an overnight bag for the both of them, just in case a hospital visit was a possibility. She didn't want to uproot the boy unnecessarily; he was only just beginning to settle down, but she would if things got serious.
Flu spread through Sam's body like a wildfire on a mission and got caught up in his lungs, flooding them with the dreaded mucous of pneumonia.
The hospital stay was no longer just a possibility; it became a requirement to save his life.
After Toni called an ambulance to Singer Salvage, she left yet another voice mail message on John's phone then Bobby's, sent Dean one of many text messages, and began to pray.
Two weeks of worrying herself into exhaustion, watching Sam's slow steady recovery under the guidance of some powerful antibiotics, Toni had breathed a sigh of relief and driven them both home, Sam staring sorrowful and silent at the dashboard.
Late one evening, Toni sat by the window, humming softly, Sam in her arms. Though the boy had quietened down, no longer whimpering unhappily, she knew by his breathing that he was still wide awake, probably still staring out the window, those haunted blue-green eyes trained on the yard expectantly.
Kid never gives up, she smiled sadly, and pressed a gentle kiss to Sam's silky hair.
This was killing her; one more day without word meant taking Sam to live at Pastor Jim Murphy's in Blue Earth. Permanently. For the kid could then officially consider himself an orphan.
That was, effectively, the Winchester family intructions to Toni in the event of their demise.
Somewhere in the house, a phone began ringing, and Toni didn't think it was entirely her imagination that lent an air of panic to its tone. Somehow, she knew who it was.
He was already shouting before the receiver reached her ear, and she suspected he'd been yelling all the while she'd laid Sam down, and made her way downstairs and through to the study.
"What took you so damn long to answer the damn phone? We got your messages! How long was Sam in hospital for? How is he? Is he ok? How'd he get sick in the first place?"
Toni waited for the rant to finish before calmly clearing her throat, and speaking her peace.
"So, you finally decided to join the rest of the world. How lovely for you," she remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, and before Dean could snap at her some more, she continued, reeling off a monologue in a quick-style fashion that would've made Ricky Gervais nervous. "Sam's still sick, though better than he was. He's been pining for his family, which is what made him so poorly in the first place. I've been trying to reach you for weeks, by phone, email, text, you name it. If I knew Morse code, or semaphore I would've tried it. Sam's barely slept, I've barely slept, worrying and wondering if you guys were even still alive, or if those werewolves had clawed the living daylights out of you so don't you start on me, boy!"
The shocked silence on the other end of the line had Toni raising an eyebrow. Was she about to receive a sharp, Winchester-style tongue lashing for her impudence? She shrugged.
Is this the face of concern?
But it was a surprisingly meek older brother that spoke up next.
"I… I'm sorry, ok?" Dean said, softly. "I had no right to speak to you like that." He sighed, sounding as tired and worn out as Toni felt. "We ran into some trouble. Big time. Turned out it wasn't just one pack of wolves, but two. We barely made it out with our asses intact."
Toni nodded to herself. She'd figured as much. No doubt she'd get the full facts later, once they all returned. "Was anybody hurt?"
Dean hesitated before answering. "Bobby, Dad and I are all fine… a little scratched up maybe… but we lost three other hunters," he murmured, sadly. "They were good people."
"I'm sorry, Dean," Toni replied, sympathetically. Hunter he might have been, but at the end of the day he was still just a soft-hearted kid. "Werewolves are tough bastards to kill. I'm just glad you boys didn't draw the short straw on this one."
"Yeah…" he seemed to shake himself out of his maudlin mood for an abrupt change of subject. "Look… M'sorry we couldn't call sooner; there was no cell signal out in the sticks. Anyways, we're finally on the road." Toni heard the growing smile in his voice. "Tell Sammy I'll be home soon."
"Sure, he'll be waiting. He's been waiting for you all along," said Toni, fondly. "Have a safe journey. Don't know what I'd tell the kid if you guys survived two werewolf packs, but got taken out in a car wreck."
Once Toni broke the news to Sam - "Dad and Dean's nearly home" - he sat up, eyes red rimmed from exhaustion and fever, and resumed his watch on the yard. His blanket wrapped form shivered from time to time, nose leaving a smear of tears and snot where it was stuck up against the window.
Toni switched the TV on at a low volume and curled up next to Sam on his bed, keeping him warm, her own eyes occasionally drifting away from the crappy soap opera to gaze out at the world, searching for the Singer-Winchester hunting troop.
She must have fallen asleep. Hours later, Sam startled her awake by banging violently on the window, eyes wide and dazed.
"Deeee….. Daaaaaaaa…." he whimpered, head swivelling back to Toni several times, begging her to look.
A quick glance outside showed John and Bobby tiredly climbing down from John's black truck, and Dean tumbling out from behind the wheel of his precious Impala. As soon as he was on his feet, the older brother glanced straight up at Sam's window. The very second Dean's worried, searching eyes rested on Sam, his tired, bruised face lit up like a Christmas tree in a breath taking smile.
"Hey, Sam," Toni whispered and smoothed back a few sweat soaked curls from Sam's forehead. "You take it easy, ok? They'll come to you, I promise."
But Sam wasn't listening, just kept himself pressed against the glass, and when Dean disappeared from sight, presumably to head into the house, he started crying, huge, silent, tears of sadness.
"Aw baby, don't cry," Toni crooned, gently rubbing his back. "Hear that? Surely you recognise it?"
Sam turned slightly and watched the nurse cock her head to the side, as if listening, and immediately copied the movement.
"C'mon, Sam," she laughed. "There's only one person in the world who sounds like a charging bull elephant on Uncle Bobby's stairwell…"
Sam's eyes flitted to the bedroom doorway just as Dean appeared, slightly out of breath and still smiling.
"Heya runt," concern, loneliness and longing sparkled in Dean's eyes. "We're home."
Sam froze for a moment only, then began scrambling out of his blankets.
"Whoa, easy Sam…" said Toni, trying her best to keep the kid from falling off the bed, but Dean crossed the room in a couple of long strides and safely scooped his shaggy headed little brother into a deep, tight hug.
Tears prickled at the back of Toni's eyes when Sam whimpered, tucked his head under Dean's chin and returned the hug with equal fervour. Didn't matter that Sam was over 6ft tall and well on his way to 17 years old; right now, he was just a little boy who'd missed his big brother to distraction.
Sam broke away from Dean just long enough to eye him up and down, then started rubbing gently at Dean's neck, shoulders, arms, wrists, then back up to rub at his brother's head. Dean watched him, concerned and wary, then glanced at Toni and mouthed What the hell?
Toni smiled. "He's checking you for injury. He did that to me on my third week here, after I tripped on the veranda steps and bruised my knee." She shook her head in fond amusement. "Took me a while to figure out what he was doing. But when I stubbed my toe on his nightstand he did the same thing. Just reached out and started patting me all over."
"Huh," Dean swallowed hard, but made no move to halt his little brother's inspection. "I'm ok, Sammy," he said, softly.
Finally, Sam seemed satisfied that his big brother wasn't badly hurt in some way, because he stopped, rested his head on Dean's shoulder and buried his nose in Dean's neck.
Dean shared an affectionate glance with the nurse.
Toni looked up when she saw movement from the corner of her eye. John Winchester stood in the doorway, eyes shining with regret, looking a little lost for such a tough, hardened hunter. But Sam must have sensed the older Winchester, too, because he raised his head, spotted his father, and reached out with a shaky hand over Dean's shoulder, eyes wet and pleading.
"Aw, Sammy," John murmured, stepped into the room and wrapped strong arms around both his boys. Eyes closed, he sighed in contentment. "Didn't mean to be gone so long." He gently kissed Sam's scalp. "Missed you, kiddo."
Sam snored lightly in Dean's arms while John watched over them both. The poor kid had refused to let go of his big brother the entire evening, even clinging on to John's hand whenever he could. John got the impression Dean didn't mind so much, even relished being needed so badly by his kid brother.
As for John, yeah, he wasn't above admitting that it felt good holding his baby boy so close, so tight, as though he could keep the world at bay, stop it from hurting him again.
But the time was coming. Sam was getting better. And if there was one thing that gave it away more than anything else, it was Sam's little touchey-feeley routine:
Like John, and Dean before him, Bobby Singer was treated to the same Sam Winchester triage, leaving the grizzled hunter suspiciously wiping at his eyes and sniffing quietly. And cute, clumsy and heart warming though it was, Sam had once been trained to check for injuries.
He was starting to remember his life before the attack, and that thought filled John with a terrifying mixture of elation, trepidation, and sadness.
Some hours later, Toni, passing by with her suitcase, looked in on the little family, noted their peaceful slumber, and walked quietly downstairs.
Bobby stood in the hallway, waiting, car keys in hand.
"You sure you can't stay longer, Ton?" Bobby enquired, hopefully. He liked having the younger woman around, and it was always good to have an extra pair of hands on standby when the Winchesters were in residence.
Toni put down her suitcase and smiled. "I'd love to, Bobby," she replied, and shrugged, reached out and took the offered keys. "But I'm needed elsewhere."
"That damn banshee up in New York?" Bobby growled. "I heard that thing nearly ripped some poor guy to pieces."
"That's the one," she said, softly. "One hunter's already been slaughtered, and his partner badly wounded. A gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do, and all that."
Bobby studied the woman for a long, calculating moment. "You ever thought about settling down some place? Getting married, maybe have some rugrats of your own?"
Toni's smile turned into a wry grin. "Why? You offering?"
Bobby scoffed. "M'old enough to be your daddy, girl!"
"That never stopped Rod Stewart," Toni retorted with a laugh, then grew serious. "Nah. Maybe one day, but right now? There aren't many nurses with my kind of knowledge out there in the world. And the more of us you hunters have on your side, the better off we'll all be."
Bobby acknowledged that with a rueful smile and a small salute.
As they walked outside and descended the veranda steps - carefully - Bobby saw Toni glance wistfully up at the dimly lit window of Sam's room. She'd clearly grown attached to the kid.
"He's gonna miss you too, ya know," he murmured, picturing the boy curled up asleep with his brother.
Toni stared for a moment longer, blinked, then looked away. Her gaze fell on Bobby after a few minutes silence and her farewell smile was sad, but determined.
"No, he won't," she said, finally. "Not at all. As it should be."
She drove away that very same night of the Winchesters' return and, though it hurt like hell, she didn't once look back.
The End
This way to the next story in the verse...
http://skagtrendy1.livejournal.com/22279.html