The Calliope Crashed to the Ground 1/?
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Title: The Calliope Crashed to the Ground 1/?
Rating: 15 or so
Genre: pre-slash, hurt/comfort, whump
Summary: Dean is severely injured on a hunt.
Author's Note: Just a strange plot bunny I had while reading all ya'll's wonderful works. I'm not a super fan of this show, just a passing one, so if there's any glaring canon mistakes just let me know. :) Set this is Tampa so I'd know wtf I'm talking about.
Dean clawed the floor feeling for the gun he'd dropped as he heard Sam struggling nearby. He felt it finally and wrapped his hand around the barrel to pull it towards him, swearing as it slid out of his bloody grip. He leveled the barrel towards Sam's gasps.
"Sam! Duck!" He prayed Sam was out of the way and fired a round, grinning when he heard the thing shriek.
"Uh oh." He pulled the trigger again, as he heard it's feet slamming against the hardwood towards him, but groaned when it clicked. He turned the gun around and swung it like a bat, satisfied at the sweet crunch when it connected with his target's face a split second before the impact.
"Dean!"
He thought he heard Sam fire off another round but couldn't be sure as a sickening swoop rushed through his stomache. He felt a sudden wetness and a strange feeling like a cold breeze against his right side. As the weight of the creature was hauled off of him and he pushed against the wall behind him, staggering to his feet, he realized something was very, very wrong. He heard the thing give off a last, depressing shudder of breath and Sam step towards him.
"Jesus, Dean your face."
Dean grinned and Sam gripped his arm as he started sliding down the wall.
"Never seen anything so pretty?" He was surprised how faint his voice had come out but as sirens wailed in the distance and Sam made to pull him up from the wall he felt his mind slipping and struggled to stay conscious.
"Sammy, I think I'ma pass out now." He stumbled into Sam's side as he said it and as his right side bumped into him he-
---
His eyed opened to blackness but the warmth on his face told him it was day.
"Ssmm?"
Something very cold was pressed between his right side and the back of the backseat where he was laying.
"Hold on Dean. We're going to a hospital."
Dean tried to shake himself more awake at that. "No. No hosptl." Stupid mouth, with it's not cooperating.
"There's no choice."
He tried to tell him there's always a choice but he fell back under before he could get a word out.
---
The next time he woke it was to the steady beeping of a heart monitor and the dripping of what he knew to be blood from the smell. He wasn't sure which pain med it was but the smell was a cross between orange peels and rubbing alcohol and made him slightly nauseous.
He went to pull back the covers with the hand not covered in I.V.'s and was confused. He raised his right hand to his face and felt...nothing. He pulled his heavy, ice cold, I.V. stuffed left hand over and rubbed down his arm, gasping in shock when he hit empty air just below his right elbow.
"Shit."
He reached up towards his eyes but he already knew what he'd find there. He'd known while it was happening that there was no way to save his sight. While Sam had been miles away just figuring out that the thing was secreting a temporarily paralyzing agent while posing as a loved one and then stealing people's eyes Dean had been experiencing it first hand.
He lowered his hand and tried to concentrate on the sounds outside his door. He was completely unaware of his whereabouts, had no weapons, and didn't know where Sam was. Although if he was honest with himself that last one was about all he really cared about.
The door creaked open and he heard what he knew with all certainty to be his brother's foot steps. The smell of crappy vending machine coffee, stale sweat, and Sam all hit him at once and he let out a small sigh of relief.
"Sam?" He winced at the painful dryness in his throat.
"Dean. Wait, there's water here."
Though he wanted to gulp the whole thing he took a few sips from the straw before trying again.
"Where are we?" He heard Sam's hesitation and growled. "Just tell me where we are, Sam."
Sam sighed and sat down. "Tampa General."
Dean laid back against his pillows and went to scrub his hand across his face is resignation before- "Shit. My hand?! Really?"
"We have another problem."
He waited a minute. "What?" He barked out.
"These nurses are acting strange."
"Of course they are, we're in Tampa."
"I don't know. I get the feeling one of them's heard about a few of your warrants."
Dean sat up, ignoring the dizziness. "We should move then."
Sam pushed him back down. "We have some time I think. We're not leaving unless we absolutely have to."
Dean felt his mind waver again and cursed this weakness. "Did I make a mess?"
"What?"
"Clean her up for me." He felt himself nodding back to sweet oblivion and didn't wait for Sam's response.
---
Someone was tugging at his hand. A sharp pain stabbed up his arm and he groaned.
"Shh. Keep quiet but I need you to try and wake up."
Dean sat up as switches were flipped and the beeping stopped. An arm was suddenly around his shoulders and he was being lifted to his feet. Sam turned from him to bring the wheelchair closer and he immediately sagged without his support. Sam caught him just befor his knees hit the dirty tile and placed him in the wheelchair with little effort.
"Sasquatch." He lifted his hand and felt for Sam as he moved around to push the chair. Sam's shirt fabric pulled across his fingers and he snorted. "Are you wearing scrubs?"
"Yes, I'm wearing scrubs, Dean. We're in a hospital. A hospital now filled with cops." He gritted the last bit out between his teeth.
"So what's the plan?" He said as he heard Sam open the door and check the nurses' movements.
"Uh, yeah about that."
"Great."
"The Impala's parked at the Hard Rock. I got a chevy parked out front but we gotta hurry before the cops pick it up."
Sam came back and started pushing. As they made their way down the corridor towards the elevators he heard the walkie-talkies and keys jingling from the connecting hallway ahead of them. He threw his hand back and smacked Sam's before pointing to the left. He thanked God they knew each other so well as Sam turned off into the nearest room without question and cracked the door behind them as they waited for the cops to go by.
"-saw his picture up on the America's Most Wanted website, I just know it. I know it cause when it came up I sent it off to my sister saying 'can you believe such a cutie could be such a bad egg?' but it just goes to show you never do know about people do you? So I figure I better call the boys in blue what with all that murdering and-"
Sam pushed him back out quickly and they hurried towards the elevators.
"Take the service elevator."
"What? Why?"
"It's the last one they'll check if they start a search."
Sam got them in and pushed the button for the ground floor. An anxious silence fell briefly.
"Hmm."
"What?"
"What song is that?"
Dean hesitated. "...I don't know."
Two more floors dinged.
Sam shifted restlessly behind him. "That's gonna drive me crazy."
"...."
"You know what it is."
"What? No."
He could've swore he could hear Sam roll his eyes.
"It's Christina Aguilera. Now shut up, I'm in pain."
Sam giggled softly. "I just wanted to hear you say it."
"Bitch." The doors finally dinged open and Sam steered them towards the sunlight streaming in through the wall of windows and automatic doors.
As they came out the front doors Dean tried to ignore the almost overpowering smells assaulting him. Although all the smokers congregated in the only smoking area around the hospital were doing a good job of making him feel as though he were being smothered.
He tried to just ignore it and breath normally but the slight gasping and weezing caught Sam's attention.
"You're alright. We'll be okay in just a second."
He pushed Dean quickly towards a blue pickup truck parked in the ambulance lane. He opened the door and lifted him bodily into the truck without waiting for permission or Dean's obligatory demands that he do it himself. He folded up the wheelchair and threw it in the bed before climbing in the driver's seat and making for the highway.
He glanced over at Dean who was still breathing just a little too harshly and realized that the pain was going to catch up to him very quickly. He hadn't had time between the cops' arrival to getting Dean out to steal any meds. They had a supply in the Impala but nowhere near what they needed. He pulled out his cell phone, it was time to call in some help.
"Who're you calling?"
"Ghostbusters." He answered automatically.
"That's us, stupid." Dean leaned his now throbbing head against the window, as he listened to Sam talking to Bobby, expecting it to be cool and leaned back at the sudden heat. God, he hated Florida.
---
tbc?
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Title: The Calliope Crashed to the Ground 1/?
Rating: 15 or so
Genre: pre-slash, hurt/comfort, whump
Summary: Dean is severely injured on a hunt.
Author's Note: Just a strange plot bunny I had while reading all ya'll's wonderful works. I'm not a super fan of this show, just a passing one, so if there's any glaring canon mistakes just let me know. :) Set this is Tampa so I'd know wtf I'm talking about.
Dean clawed the floor feeling for the gun he'd dropped as he heard Sam struggling nearby. He felt it finally and wrapped his hand around the barrel to pull it towards him, swearing as it slid out of his bloody grip. He leveled the barrel towards Sam's gasps.
"Sam! Duck!" He prayed Sam was out of the way and fired a round, grinning when he heard the thing shriek.
"Uh oh." He pulled the trigger again, as he heard it's feet slamming against the hardwood towards him, but groaned when it clicked. He turned the gun around and swung it like a bat, satisfied at the sweet crunch when it connected with his target's face a split second before the impact.
"Dean!"
He thought he heard Sam fire off another round but couldn't be sure as a sickening swoop rushed through his stomache. He felt a sudden wetness and a strange feeling like a cold breeze against his right side. As the weight of the creature was hauled off of him and he pushed against the wall behind him, staggering to his feet, he realized something was very, very wrong. He heard the thing give off a last, depressing shudder of breath and Sam step towards him.
"Jesus, Dean your face."
Dean grinned and Sam gripped his arm as he started sliding down the wall.
"Never seen anything so pretty?" He was surprised how faint his voice had come out but as sirens wailed in the distance and Sam made to pull him up from the wall he felt his mind slipping and struggled to stay conscious.
"Sammy, I think I'ma pass out now." He stumbled into Sam's side as he said it and as his right side bumped into him he-
---
His eyed opened to blackness but the warmth on his face told him it was day.
"Ssmm?"
Something very cold was pressed between his right side and the back of the backseat where he was laying.
"Hold on Dean. We're going to a hospital."
Dean tried to shake himself more awake at that. "No. No hosptl." Stupid mouth, with it's not cooperating.
"There's no choice."
He tried to tell him there's always a choice but he fell back under before he could get a word out.
---
The next time he woke it was to the steady beeping of a heart monitor and the dripping of what he knew to be blood from the smell. He wasn't sure which pain med it was but the smell was a cross between orange peels and rubbing alcohol and made him slightly nauseous.
He went to pull back the covers with the hand not covered in I.V.'s and was confused. He raised his right hand to his face and felt...nothing. He pulled his heavy, ice cold, I.V. stuffed left hand over and rubbed down his arm, gasping in shock when he hit empty air just below his right elbow.
"Shit."
He reached up towards his eyes but he already knew what he'd find there. He'd known while it was happening that there was no way to save his sight. While Sam had been miles away just figuring out that the thing was secreting a temporarily paralyzing agent while posing as a loved one and then stealing people's eyes Dean had been experiencing it first hand.
He lowered his hand and tried to concentrate on the sounds outside his door. He was completely unaware of his whereabouts, had no weapons, and didn't know where Sam was. Although if he was honest with himself that last one was about all he really cared about.
The door creaked open and he heard what he knew with all certainty to be his brother's foot steps. The smell of crappy vending machine coffee, stale sweat, and Sam all hit him at once and he let out a small sigh of relief.
"Sam?" He winced at the painful dryness in his throat.
"Dean. Wait, there's water here."
Though he wanted to gulp the whole thing he took a few sips from the straw before trying again.
"Where are we?" He heard Sam's hesitation and growled. "Just tell me where we are, Sam."
Sam sighed and sat down. "Tampa General."
Dean laid back against his pillows and went to scrub his hand across his face is resignation before- "Shit. My hand?! Really?"
"We have another problem."
He waited a minute. "What?" He barked out.
"These nurses are acting strange."
"Of course they are, we're in Tampa."
"I don't know. I get the feeling one of them's heard about a few of your warrants."
Dean sat up, ignoring the dizziness. "We should move then."
Sam pushed him back down. "We have some time I think. We're not leaving unless we absolutely have to."
Dean felt his mind waver again and cursed this weakness. "Did I make a mess?"
"What?"
"Clean her up for me." He felt himself nodding back to sweet oblivion and didn't wait for Sam's response.
---
Someone was tugging at his hand. A sharp pain stabbed up his arm and he groaned.
"Shh. Keep quiet but I need you to try and wake up."
Dean sat up as switches were flipped and the beeping stopped. An arm was suddenly around his shoulders and he was being lifted to his feet. Sam turned from him to bring the wheelchair closer and he immediately sagged without his support. Sam caught him just befor his knees hit the dirty tile and placed him in the wheelchair with little effort.
"Sasquatch." He lifted his hand and felt for Sam as he moved around to push the chair. Sam's shirt fabric pulled across his fingers and he snorted. "Are you wearing scrubs?"
"Yes, I'm wearing scrubs, Dean. We're in a hospital. A hospital now filled with cops." He gritted the last bit out between his teeth.
"So what's the plan?" He said as he heard Sam open the door and check the nurses' movements.
"Uh, yeah about that."
"Great."
"The Impala's parked at the Hard Rock. I got a chevy parked out front but we gotta hurry before the cops pick it up."
Sam came back and started pushing. As they made their way down the corridor towards the elevators he heard the walkie-talkies and keys jingling from the connecting hallway ahead of them. He threw his hand back and smacked Sam's before pointing to the left. He thanked God they knew each other so well as Sam turned off into the nearest room without question and cracked the door behind them as they waited for the cops to go by.
"-saw his picture up on the America's Most Wanted website, I just know it. I know it cause when it came up I sent it off to my sister saying 'can you believe such a cutie could be such a bad egg?' but it just goes to show you never do know about people do you? So I figure I better call the boys in blue what with all that murdering and-"
Sam pushed him back out quickly and they hurried towards the elevators.
"Take the service elevator."
"What? Why?"
"It's the last one they'll check if they start a search."
Sam got them in and pushed the button for the ground floor. An anxious silence fell briefly.
"Hmm."
"What?"
"What song is that?"
Dean hesitated. "...I don't know."
Two more floors dinged.
Sam shifted restlessly behind him. "That's gonna drive me crazy."
"...."
"You know what it is."
"What? No."
He could've swore he could hear Sam roll his eyes.
"It's Christina Aguilera. Now shut up, I'm in pain."
Sam giggled softly. "I just wanted to hear you say it."
"Bitch." The doors finally dinged open and Sam steered them towards the sunlight streaming in through the wall of windows and automatic doors.
As they came out the front doors Dean tried to ignore the almost overpowering smells assaulting him. Although all the smokers congregated in the only smoking area around the hospital were doing a good job of making him feel as though he were being smothered.
He tried to just ignore it and breath normally but the slight gasping and weezing caught Sam's attention.
"You're alright. We'll be okay in just a second."
He pushed Dean quickly towards a blue pickup truck parked in the ambulance lane. He opened the door and lifted him bodily into the truck without waiting for permission or Dean's obligatory demands that he do it himself. He folded up the wheelchair and threw it in the bed before climbing in the driver's seat and making for the highway.
He glanced over at Dean who was still breathing just a little too harshly and realized that the pain was going to catch up to him very quickly. He hadn't had time between the cops' arrival to getting Dean out to steal any meds. They had a supply in the Impala but nowhere near what they needed. He pulled out his cell phone, it was time to call in some help.
"Who're you calling?"
"Ghostbusters." He answered automatically.
"That's us, stupid." Dean leaned his now throbbing head against the window, as he listened to Sam talking to Bobby, expecting it to be cool and leaned back at the sudden heat. God, he hated Florida.
---
tbc?