Just a Scratch 2/2
Back to Part One
EMTs arrived within five minutes, being such a small town and had taken only another five to rush Sam to the small one emergency room medical center. The cover story had been simple, but Dean found sometimes the lamest stories raised the less eyebrows. They’d been in the bayou fishing, gotten off the beaten path and lost their way. That would keep any concerned law officials out of the old sewage tunnels until the tanahogs could be dealt with.
Dr. Willet frowned at the still-reeking dried brown muck covering Sam’s wounded leg, one black brow arching when Dean said they’d crawled through a mud pit, but the young doctor didn’t call him on it, more intent on getting Sam’s blood pressure evened out and fever reduced.
Being such a small hospital, they let Dean stay, for which he was grateful that he hadn’t had to fight to do so. He was so weary and just wanted Sam to wake up and be okay.
By the time Dean followed the gurney into a private room, he had as much energy as a walking corpse. A chair against the wall beckoned him, but now that all the nurses were out of the way, he wanted a closer look at his brother for himself.
They’d cleaned him up some, stripped off the ruined clothes, put him in a faded blue hospital gown and had him hooked up to an IV, oximeter, heart monitor, the works.
Dark lashes fanned over too pale skin like bruises. Dean laid the back of his hand on Sam’s forehead, lips tightening at the heat.
“His fever hasn’t come down yet.” The doctor’s voice right behind him startled Dean.
The lines in Dr. Willet’s forehead creased. “We’ve started him on the first course of antibiotics…” His words filtered off leaving an unspoken ‘but’ drifting in the air between them.
Dean’s heart seized up like a broken engine. Turning, he faced the doctor head on as though challenging the bad news out of him would make it less painful.
The Adam’s apple in Willet’s throat column bounced. “We have some decisions to make.”
“We?” Dean’s voice came out gruff, a raw and bleeding match to his insides.
The doctor nodded. “Your brother-“
“Sam.”
“Sam.” Willet smiled kindly. “The infection in his leg has taken hold. Frankly, I’m not sure how he’s lasted this long.”
“But he has,” Dean growled.
“Yes and we’re doing everything we can to ensure he continues to.”
The doctor stared pointedly at Dean with the unflinching resolve of someone accustomed to giving bad news straight out. “If we can’t get a handle on the infection, we’ll need to take his leg. But in Sam’s weakened state, that still may not be enough.”
The room closed in around Dean, squeezing the air from his lungs. A small burning pressure pushed at the base of his skull and he realized Dr. Willet was guiding him back to sit in the chair.
Dean sank onto it woodenly, starring at the floor as the color in the tiles faded while the doc kept a hand on his shoulder.
“So…” voice cracking, Dean stopped and tried again. “So, you leave his leg and Sam dies, but if you cut it off, he still might die? That what you’re saying?” Please don’t be saying that.
Features pinched, the doctor nodded. “I need you to be prepared. I have the surgery scheduled for the first thing in the morning.”
“If…” Dean squeezed his eyes closed then opened them with a heavy sigh. He couldn’t believe what he was about to ask. “If he’s in danger of death, why not take him to surgery now?” The words tasted as bitter as ashes blown off a funeral pyre.
“We need his blood pressure evened out and more fluids in him. If we attempted surgery now, he wouldn’t survive it.” Willet’s dark fingers curled over Dean’s shoulder. “We still have a small window of time for that to happen and I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to give Sam the best chance he has.”
Dean didn’t nod, barely registered the doctor taking his leave. Dean sat unmoving in the chair, staring at the wall, numbed by the quiet beeps of the monitors and intermittent hum of the IV machine pushing antibiotics into his brother’s veins. Earlier he wanted so badly for Sam to wake up, show him he was still fighting, but now he feared Sam waking because if he did, he’d have to tell him…
He couldn’t. But he also couldn’t stand the thought of Sam regaining consciousness after the surgery to find his leg gone either.
Wouldn’t matter. Dean clenched his fists, shaking. He wouldn’t let it matter. If it kept Sam alive, it wouldn’t matter. They’d deal with it head on. Therapy. Artificial limb. Whatever Sam needed, Dean would deal with it. That’s just how it was going to be. Screw everything else.
The IV drip continued on. Hours passed. Dean didn’t move.
The door creaked open and a heavy-set black woman came through backwards, pulling a loaded cart with her.
She zeroed in on Dean. “Don’t just sit there. Help me haul this cart in so we can get to saving your brother’s leg.”
That got Dean back on his feet, the colors of the room slamming back into full vibrancy.
The woman was already at the side of the bed, pushing down the sheets and gently pulling the saturated gauze away from Sam’s thigh and peering at it intently.
“Mmm-mmm, is as bad as they say.”
Dean came alongside her, ready to insert himself between her wide girth and his brother, not daring to hope. “Who are you?”
Her gaze snapped on him, round face smoothing as she took in his ragged worried appearance. “Don’t fret now, bébé. Nina Jae’s here to take care of everything.”
“But Dr. Willet-“
Her smile grew indulgent. “Who do you think suggested that maybe I come in for my shift two days early?” She patted his cheek before pulling the cart closer and lifted a white towel off a porcelain bowl filled with noxious brown mud.
Dean’s brows knifed. “This is the same stuff that was on Sam when I found him.”
“Was it now?” The woman’s lips puckered. “Jambyjamby.”
“Come again.”
“Jambyjamby. Found deep in the swamplands. It’s probably what kept him alive so long.” She went to the door and closed the shutters on the window and came back. “Someone-or something-helped your brother.
“I’ll need you to hold him down when he awakens.”
“He hasn’t woken yet.”
“He will.” Nina Jae pressed the morphine drip button that shot an instant dose into the IV. “This will give him a few moments, but morphine acts quick, bébé, lasts only a few moments with so much pain.”
Dean nodded, fear for his brother growing the more she spoke.
“This will be hard. I’ll understand if you want to leave.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Nina Jae gave him another once other before moving him to the other side of the bed out of her way. “Be ready then.” Going back to her place between the bed and the cart, she pulled plastic gloves on and used a scalpel to reopen the raw puckering wound on Sam’s thigh.
The kid still didn’t stir. Smelly pus immediately began seeping from the reopened wound,
“Such a small scratch to give us such problems.” Setting the scalpel down, Nina Jae began systematically kneading the bloated flesh around the wound, pushing more of the thick pus out.
It looked painful as hell. Dean winced, relieved Sam remained unconscious until that reprieve was blown as Sam’s eyes started rolling beneath his lids. His jaw clenched on a moan and his head rocked from one side to another.
Nina Jae glanced up at Dean. Get ready. She kept kneading the seeping wound, squeezing more and more of the sickly sweet smelling goo out. And Sam shot up off the mattress, back arching, his scream so raw and guttural it tore through every layer of Dean’s soul.
He grabbed the kid’s combative hands before he unconsciously struck Nina Jae in his fight or flight reaction. Fight since the Winchesters always came up swinging.
“Sam, stop. I gotcha!” Dean wrestled with his arms while Sam continued to scream and moan. “Won’t this bring the other nurses running?”
“They know not to come in here when I've lowered the blinds.” Steady as a rock, the woman continued to work. “Do not mention this to the doctor either.”
“But I thought you said…”
“He knows about this, but must also work under medical restrictions. He doesn’t ask, and I don’t tell. You understand?”
“I got it.” He did, but was more concerned with his thrashing, screaming brother at the moment. “Stop fighting, Sam, it’s okay. She’s helping you. She’s helping you man.”
Dean grabbed both of Sam’s hands and held them between their bodies as he pulled Sam close against him. “It’s okay, just like the time I got that rasta venom in me at Lake Chuckawak and you and Dad had to squeeze it out. Just like that, Sam. I know it hurts, but it’s just like that, I promise.”
Gradually Sam’s struggles slowed. His hands unclenched and clenched against Dean’s stomach before snagging into the hem of his T-shirt, his fingers burning hot against Dean’s skin, and the top of Sam’s head pressed hard into Dean’s collarbone. Letting go of Sam’s wrists, Dean brought his arms around the kid’s overheated shaking frame.
“Keep…keep talking,” Sam hitched out on a raspy sob.
Dean did. He talked and talked until he was hoarse, retelling old stories, sharing escapades with girls Sam didn’t know about and some of the solo hunts he’d been on the past couple of years while Sam was at Stanford, not caring that Nina Jae heard every word. He didn’t let up even when Sam stiffened so tight Dean worried his bones would break, all the while Nina Jae kneaded his thigh working every ounce of the pus out without mercy until the blood finally ran clear and Sam’s lean body sagged into Dean.
~~~SPN Forever~~~
These boys were getting to her. Nina Jae worked tirelessly, determined not to lose this one. She couldn’t do any less, not with how the older brother worked to keep the kid grounded with him.
Their auras were strong, these two, and entwined in a manner she’d never encountered before.
If she had to work all night until her old joints stiffened, she was going to save these two. But finally the blood ran clear and it was up to the goddess whether this boy kept his limb or not.
While the older sibling carefully settled his unconscious brother on the mattress, she spread the Jambyjamby generously across his leg, pushing it down into the wound where it could do its work and draw the infection out. “Now we will see,” she murmured, snapping the plastic gloves off. “Now we will see.”
“This will work?” The open hope in the older boy’s eyes broke her heart.
“If the goddess wills.” From the tightening of his lips she could tell he was a nonbeliever. She smiled kindly. “He has a good chance. Let the Jambyjamby do its work until morning. Now you need to be off your feet. You’ll be no good to him if you drop.” She fisted her hands at her waist.
He had no intention of letting down his guard, but he also was too weary to fight her. Thinking he was compromising, he grabbed the hard chair from the wall and dragged it over.
“No bébé.” She guided him to the recliner in the far corner of the room. “I want you rested.”
“But…” He was afraid he’d fall asleep if he got too comfortable. She could see the thoughts working in his expressive face.
“I’ll be here.” She pushed him down into the chair. “If he needs you, I’ll wake you.”
Frowning, he eased back. “I’ll sit, but I’m not sleeping.”
Nodding, she crossed to the door. “I’ll be back with fresh linens.”
In the hall, the nurses manning the nurse’s station glanced up expectantly. She gave them a tight smile and went into the supply closest, fishing out her phone. While it was true Dr. Willet had called her, he wasn’t the only one.
A few minutes later, she returned to the room with the new linens and a cup of tea. Dean was still in the recliner and still awake, his expression as worried as when she’d left him.
“Here.” She pushed the warm cup into his hands.
“I’m not thirsty.”
“I didn't ask. Drink. You need your strength if you’re to watch after your brother all night.”
With that he took a sip, and then another as she stood over him until he was finished.
“Bossy.” She caught the murmured growl as he settled back into the recliner, mutinously folding his arms to wait out his brother’s recovery.
~~~SPN~~~
Thirty minutes passed before Nina Jae heard the door creak open. He swept into the room like a shadow, first glancing at the boy on the bed and then to the young man sleeping soundly in the recliner. Dark eyes lifted to her in question.
“He fought the effects of the tea, but he’s out,” she reassured him. “You have some fine boys, Johnny.”
He strode over to the recliner and curled his large roughened hand around the boy’s shoulder. “I do.” His smile was small, almost too small for the weight of pride resting there. He squeezed his son’s shoulder before turning away to check on his youngest.
Pulling back the sheet, John Winchester leaned in to inspect the wound first before his palm slid onto Sam’s cheek while he slipped the back of his other hand over the boy’s forehead to gauge any remaining fever. “He’s warm.”
“Do not worry, his fever is going down.”
John nodded, his eyes tight. “And his leg, did it work?”
Nina Jae came up beside him, noting how John’s hands remained on his son. “I believe his life is no longer in danger, but his leg…” She shook her head. “I do not know.”
John flinched, barely perceptible, but his son must have felt it for his head turned into his father’s palm and his lashes started fluttering.
“Shhh, son, it’s all right.” In all the years she had known the hunter, Nina Jae had never once heard the quality of gentleness in John’s tone. She wouldn’t have believed the man was capable of it.
Sam’s eyes slipped open, a glossy hazel. “Dad?”
“It’s okay, son. You’re okay.”
“Where…where you been?”
John smiled sadly. “Listen to me carefully, Sam. You’re strong. You’re going to keep fighting this. Do you understand me?”
Drowsy eyes struggled to remain open. “Keep fighting.”
John patted Sam’s cheek. “That’s my boy. Now get some rest.”
As though his father’s words compelled him, the boy’s eyes slipped closed again.
John watched him a few more moments before turning his full attention on Nina Jae, transitioning from a worried father to hardened hunter before her eyes.
“I’ll clean out the beasts that got into the sewers, but your people have to do a better job of keeping the wards up around town. People died. My son was hurt.”
“We’ve protected this town for decades and kept the tanahogs protected in the bayou as well,” Nina Jae snapped. “I don’t know how they got past the wards and into the city.”
“Someone got compliance and let their wards age. Or stopped believing and didn’t maintain them altogether. That can’t happen again.”
Shame for whoever of her people had grown lax burned in her gut. “It won’t.”
John turned away, stopping when she touched his elbow.
“The beasts, they are not evil, just beasts.”
The hunter’s lips tightened. Men like him only saw creatures that could kill. “A wolf is only a beast as well, but when a wolf discovers the sheep pen, the animal is killed.”
Nina Jae shied away from that logic. “It was one of these creatures that saved your boy. Do not be so quick to forget that, Johnny.”
He held her gaze, considering, before nodding. “I’ll take care of the beasts in the sewers. Replace the wards. The rest of the tanahogs are your responsibility. Keep the wards vital. Are we clear?”
She nodded.
And John’s features softened, weary. “Thank you for what you’ve done for my son. It won’t be forgotten.” With one last glance toward the bed, John Winchester slipped out as quietly as he came in.
~~~SPN~~~
Dean awoke with a crick in his neck as he took in the unfamiliar pastel green wall he faced. Hospital pastel. He jerked up in the recliner, remembering where he was and more importantly why.
“Sam?”
He scrambled out of the chair, unnerved that he’d fallen asleep, and went to his brother’s side. No one else was about. The room smelled different of hospital disinfectant and shampoo odors instead of the overwhelming scent of sickness and that brownish muck. Sam was clean, his hair damp, his skin less gray. The bedding was fresh. He pulled back the sheet to check Sam’s leg. The brown gunk had been washed away, no trace of it left. Dean gently peeled back the gauze to check the wound. It was still ugly, but no longer swollen or seeping yellow pus.
Next he rested his palm along Sam’s cheek while checking for fever with the back of his other hand on his forehead. Kid still felt a little warm, but nowhere close to putting out the heat waves he had been before. He spilled out a breath in relief. “You’re doing better, Sam. Keep fighting, buddy.”
Sam’s eyes fluttered. His face turned into Dean’s palm and his lashes lifted, revealing those shiny hazels. “Dad?”
Dean chuckled, near giddy at hearing Sam’s voice. “Try again, kiddo.”
“De’n.” Sam’s lips curved into a smile. “Where you been? I lost you.”
“Been right here the whole time. How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Wha’ happened? Where’s Dad?”
Dean frowned. His brother was still out of it, not remembering things right. “Are you in pain?”
Sam’s forehead scrunched as though he had to take inventory. “Leg hurts.”
Worry notched up a rung around Dean’s spine. Pain was good, right? Feeling something? “How bad?” He reached for the morphine button.
Sam’s fingers fluttered on his mattress. “S’okay. Not bad. Tight. Where’d Dad go?”
“Sam, Dad’s not…”
“Was here. Told me…keep fighting.”
Well, Dean wasn’t going to argue with that. If Sam dreamed of their dad telling him to keep fighting, he wasn’t going to take that away. But he did have something else to warn his brother about. His leg, the scheduled surgery, if everything Nina Jae had done last night didn’t work… “Look, Sam, I, uh, need to-“
The door swung open and Dean’s nightmare walked in dressed in surgical scrubs and cap. “Morning, gentlemen, I see you’re up. You’re both up.” Dean tried to gauge by Dr. Willet’s expression where they stood.
“Listen, Doc.” He blocked his way to Sam. “Before you take him, I’m requesting that you run a few blood tests first. He’s looks better. Things could have changed…”
Dr. Willet squeezed Dean’s bicep. “Actually, we already have, early this morning. I tried to wake you, but you were completely under. I…” He glanced down at his scrubs, realizing what Dean must be assuming. “I just came from an emergency Endoscopy. Little girl swallowed a nickel that got stuck in her esophagus.” He shook his head. “What I’m telling you is that I already postponed your brother’s surgery and as long as he keeps improving we won’t need to reschedule in the foreseeable future.”
Every emotion Dean had been harboring over the last couple of days crashed through him, turning his limbs to butter. He sank down to steady himself on the edge of Sam’s mattress, hoping his rubbery legs would hold him.
Sam’s wide-eyed gaze fixed on him. “Surgery?”
Dean shrugged. “Cosmetic. Figured while you were out of it, we could do something about that ugly mug.”
The hazel eyes rolled, unimpressed. “You’re such an ass.”
“And you’re a bitch. What of it?”
Sam yawned and sank farther down into his pillow, his eyes closing. “You were worried.”
Dean grinned. “Shut up, Sam.”
“And we are going to talk about this.” He yawned again. “You can hold my hand if it will make you feel better.”
Willet shook his head, grinning and Dean laughed. “Shut up already.”
“You’re such a girl,” Sam murmured, getting in the last jibe before going under again. And yeah, Dean admitted to himself, when it came to this kid, he was as sappy as it came.
~~~SPN~~~
A week later, Dean crouched down in the center of the tanahog’s refuse lair beside the charred remains of at least four of the large beasts. They’d been burned down to their bones.
“Is she?” Sam waited at the entrance because even though his leg was healing nicely and the kid wasn’t even limping, Dean still didn’t want him having to shuffle his way through the debris field of discarded belongings. Hell, he didn’t want Sam down in the sewers again at all, but Sam was adamant about coming and watching Dean’s back. They’d come loaded for bear, er, tanahog, but hadn’t expected that another hunter had come along and taken care of the nest sometime during Sam’s recuperation.
“It’s hard to tell, but all these bones look larger than the female. I don’t think she’s here.”
Sam nodded. “It was Dad. I told you he was here.”
Dean’s head snapped up. “Then why wouldn’t he let us know he was around? No Sam, I gotta believe if Dad was here, he would have let us know.”
“Who knows why Dad does anything?” Pained acceptance filtered Sam’s tone. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s just coincidence that another hunter got wind of a hunt down here.”
Dean could tell his brother didn’t really believe that and was just saying what he thought he wanted to hear, because damn it, Dean wasn’t about to believe that their Dad would come check on Sam and not stick around when he knew they’d been looking for him for months.
His good mood at discovering this stupid job was completed soured and he was ready to get out of here, get Sammy out of here and back on the road. “Well, whatever man, let’s go.” Swinging to his feet, he strode out of the lair, passing his brother only to stop when he realized Sam hadn’t moved to follow him out. He turned. “Sam. She’s really not there. I promise. I think your tanahog nanny made it out.”
“Yeah, okay.” Turning away from the foul lair, Sam lifted sad dewy eyes to Dean. “Just wish we could know for sure.”
Dean walked back to Sam, taking his elbow to prod him into leaving. “Well, brother, some things you just have to take on faith.” He grinned like a cat with a mouth full of feathers.
Not taking the bait, Sam continued to frown, but walked steadily on at Dean’s urging.
Dean was just happy to be leaving. Once outside, he filled his lungs with the fresh, albeit muggy air, rolling his shoulders before making the small hike out of the edge of the bayou when he had the distinct feeling of being watched and noticed that Sam had stilled too.
Following Sam’s gaze, he saw a flash of light where a small piece of metal hung from the branch of a cypress tree and just beyond that in the shadows the female tanahog watched them. They stared at each other for a long while until Sam took a step toward her and the tanahog flinched and then quietly edged back into the swampland out of sight.
FIN
EMTs arrived within five minutes, being such a small town and had taken only another five to rush Sam to the small one emergency room medical center. The cover story had been simple, but Dean found sometimes the lamest stories raised the less eyebrows. They’d been in the bayou fishing, gotten off the beaten path and lost their way. That would keep any concerned law officials out of the old sewage tunnels until the tanahogs could be dealt with.
Dr. Willet frowned at the still-reeking dried brown muck covering Sam’s wounded leg, one black brow arching when Dean said they’d crawled through a mud pit, but the young doctor didn’t call him on it, more intent on getting Sam’s blood pressure evened out and fever reduced.
Being such a small hospital, they let Dean stay, for which he was grateful that he hadn’t had to fight to do so. He was so weary and just wanted Sam to wake up and be okay.
By the time Dean followed the gurney into a private room, he had as much energy as a walking corpse. A chair against the wall beckoned him, but now that all the nurses were out of the way, he wanted a closer look at his brother for himself.
They’d cleaned him up some, stripped off the ruined clothes, put him in a faded blue hospital gown and had him hooked up to an IV, oximeter, heart monitor, the works.
Dark lashes fanned over too pale skin like bruises. Dean laid the back of his hand on Sam’s forehead, lips tightening at the heat.
“His fever hasn’t come down yet.” The doctor’s voice right behind him startled Dean.
The lines in Dr. Willet’s forehead creased. “We’ve started him on the first course of antibiotics…” His words filtered off leaving an unspoken ‘but’ drifting in the air between them.
Dean’s heart seized up like a broken engine. Turning, he faced the doctor head on as though challenging the bad news out of him would make it less painful.
The Adam’s apple in Willet’s throat column bounced. “We have some decisions to make.”
“We?” Dean’s voice came out gruff, a raw and bleeding match to his insides.
The doctor nodded. “Your brother-“
“Sam.”
“Sam.” Willet smiled kindly. “The infection in his leg has taken hold. Frankly, I’m not sure how he’s lasted this long.”
“But he has,” Dean growled.
“Yes and we’re doing everything we can to ensure he continues to.”
The doctor stared pointedly at Dean with the unflinching resolve of someone accustomed to giving bad news straight out. “If we can’t get a handle on the infection, we’ll need to take his leg. But in Sam’s weakened state, that still may not be enough.”
The room closed in around Dean, squeezing the air from his lungs. A small burning pressure pushed at the base of his skull and he realized Dr. Willet was guiding him back to sit in the chair.
Dean sank onto it woodenly, starring at the floor as the color in the tiles faded while the doc kept a hand on his shoulder.
“So…” voice cracking, Dean stopped and tried again. “So, you leave his leg and Sam dies, but if you cut it off, he still might die? That what you’re saying?” Please don’t be saying that.
Features pinched, the doctor nodded. “I need you to be prepared. I have the surgery scheduled for the first thing in the morning.”
“If…” Dean squeezed his eyes closed then opened them with a heavy sigh. He couldn’t believe what he was about to ask. “If he’s in danger of death, why not take him to surgery now?” The words tasted as bitter as ashes blown off a funeral pyre.
“We need his blood pressure evened out and more fluids in him. If we attempted surgery now, he wouldn’t survive it.” Willet’s dark fingers curled over Dean’s shoulder. “We still have a small window of time for that to happen and I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to give Sam the best chance he has.”
Dean didn’t nod, barely registered the doctor taking his leave. Dean sat unmoving in the chair, staring at the wall, numbed by the quiet beeps of the monitors and intermittent hum of the IV machine pushing antibiotics into his brother’s veins. Earlier he wanted so badly for Sam to wake up, show him he was still fighting, but now he feared Sam waking because if he did, he’d have to tell him…
He couldn’t. But he also couldn’t stand the thought of Sam regaining consciousness after the surgery to find his leg gone either.
Wouldn’t matter. Dean clenched his fists, shaking. He wouldn’t let it matter. If it kept Sam alive, it wouldn’t matter. They’d deal with it head on. Therapy. Artificial limb. Whatever Sam needed, Dean would deal with it. That’s just how it was going to be. Screw everything else.
The IV drip continued on. Hours passed. Dean didn’t move.
The door creaked open and a heavy-set black woman came through backwards, pulling a loaded cart with her.
She zeroed in on Dean. “Don’t just sit there. Help me haul this cart in so we can get to saving your brother’s leg.”
That got Dean back on his feet, the colors of the room slamming back into full vibrancy.
The woman was already at the side of the bed, pushing down the sheets and gently pulling the saturated gauze away from Sam’s thigh and peering at it intently.
“Mmm-mmm, is as bad as they say.”
Dean came alongside her, ready to insert himself between her wide girth and his brother, not daring to hope. “Who are you?”
Her gaze snapped on him, round face smoothing as she took in his ragged worried appearance. “Don’t fret now, bébé. Nina Jae’s here to take care of everything.”
“But Dr. Willet-“
Her smile grew indulgent. “Who do you think suggested that maybe I come in for my shift two days early?” She patted his cheek before pulling the cart closer and lifted a white towel off a porcelain bowl filled with noxious brown mud.
Dean’s brows knifed. “This is the same stuff that was on Sam when I found him.”
“Was it now?” The woman’s lips puckered. “Jambyjamby.”
“Come again.”
“Jambyjamby. Found deep in the swamplands. It’s probably what kept him alive so long.” She went to the door and closed the shutters on the window and came back. “Someone-or something-helped your brother.
“I’ll need you to hold him down when he awakens.”
“He hasn’t woken yet.”
“He will.” Nina Jae pressed the morphine drip button that shot an instant dose into the IV. “This will give him a few moments, but morphine acts quick, bébé, lasts only a few moments with so much pain.”
Dean nodded, fear for his brother growing the more she spoke.
“This will be hard. I’ll understand if you want to leave.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Nina Jae gave him another once other before moving him to the other side of the bed out of her way. “Be ready then.” Going back to her place between the bed and the cart, she pulled plastic gloves on and used a scalpel to reopen the raw puckering wound on Sam’s thigh.
The kid still didn’t stir. Smelly pus immediately began seeping from the reopened wound,
“Such a small scratch to give us such problems.” Setting the scalpel down, Nina Jae began systematically kneading the bloated flesh around the wound, pushing more of the thick pus out.
It looked painful as hell. Dean winced, relieved Sam remained unconscious until that reprieve was blown as Sam’s eyes started rolling beneath his lids. His jaw clenched on a moan and his head rocked from one side to another.
Nina Jae glanced up at Dean. Get ready. She kept kneading the seeping wound, squeezing more and more of the sickly sweet smelling goo out. And Sam shot up off the mattress, back arching, his scream so raw and guttural it tore through every layer of Dean’s soul.
He grabbed the kid’s combative hands before he unconsciously struck Nina Jae in his fight or flight reaction. Fight since the Winchesters always came up swinging.
“Sam, stop. I gotcha!” Dean wrestled with his arms while Sam continued to scream and moan. “Won’t this bring the other nurses running?”
“They know not to come in here when I've lowered the blinds.” Steady as a rock, the woman continued to work. “Do not mention this to the doctor either.”
“But I thought you said…”
“He knows about this, but must also work under medical restrictions. He doesn’t ask, and I don’t tell. You understand?”
“I got it.” He did, but was more concerned with his thrashing, screaming brother at the moment. “Stop fighting, Sam, it’s okay. She’s helping you. She’s helping you man.”
Dean grabbed both of Sam’s hands and held them between their bodies as he pulled Sam close against him. “It’s okay, just like the time I got that rasta venom in me at Lake Chuckawak and you and Dad had to squeeze it out. Just like that, Sam. I know it hurts, but it’s just like that, I promise.”
Gradually Sam’s struggles slowed. His hands unclenched and clenched against Dean’s stomach before snagging into the hem of his T-shirt, his fingers burning hot against Dean’s skin, and the top of Sam’s head pressed hard into Dean’s collarbone. Letting go of Sam’s wrists, Dean brought his arms around the kid’s overheated shaking frame.
“Keep…keep talking,” Sam hitched out on a raspy sob.
Dean did. He talked and talked until he was hoarse, retelling old stories, sharing escapades with girls Sam didn’t know about and some of the solo hunts he’d been on the past couple of years while Sam was at Stanford, not caring that Nina Jae heard every word. He didn’t let up even when Sam stiffened so tight Dean worried his bones would break, all the while Nina Jae kneaded his thigh working every ounce of the pus out without mercy until the blood finally ran clear and Sam’s lean body sagged into Dean.
~~~SPN Forever~~~
These boys were getting to her. Nina Jae worked tirelessly, determined not to lose this one. She couldn’t do any less, not with how the older brother worked to keep the kid grounded with him.
Their auras were strong, these two, and entwined in a manner she’d never encountered before.
If she had to work all night until her old joints stiffened, she was going to save these two. But finally the blood ran clear and it was up to the goddess whether this boy kept his limb or not.
While the older sibling carefully settled his unconscious brother on the mattress, she spread the Jambyjamby generously across his leg, pushing it down into the wound where it could do its work and draw the infection out. “Now we will see,” she murmured, snapping the plastic gloves off. “Now we will see.”
“This will work?” The open hope in the older boy’s eyes broke her heart.
“If the goddess wills.” From the tightening of his lips she could tell he was a nonbeliever. She smiled kindly. “He has a good chance. Let the Jambyjamby do its work until morning. Now you need to be off your feet. You’ll be no good to him if you drop.” She fisted her hands at her waist.
He had no intention of letting down his guard, but he also was too weary to fight her. Thinking he was compromising, he grabbed the hard chair from the wall and dragged it over.
“No bébé.” She guided him to the recliner in the far corner of the room. “I want you rested.”
“But…” He was afraid he’d fall asleep if he got too comfortable. She could see the thoughts working in his expressive face.
“I’ll be here.” She pushed him down into the chair. “If he needs you, I’ll wake you.”
Frowning, he eased back. “I’ll sit, but I’m not sleeping.”
Nodding, she crossed to the door. “I’ll be back with fresh linens.”
In the hall, the nurses manning the nurse’s station glanced up expectantly. She gave them a tight smile and went into the supply closest, fishing out her phone. While it was true Dr. Willet had called her, he wasn’t the only one.
A few minutes later, she returned to the room with the new linens and a cup of tea. Dean was still in the recliner and still awake, his expression as worried as when she’d left him.
“Here.” She pushed the warm cup into his hands.
“I’m not thirsty.”
“I didn't ask. Drink. You need your strength if you’re to watch after your brother all night.”
With that he took a sip, and then another as she stood over him until he was finished.
“Bossy.” She caught the murmured growl as he settled back into the recliner, mutinously folding his arms to wait out his brother’s recovery.
~~~SPN~~~
Thirty minutes passed before Nina Jae heard the door creak open. He swept into the room like a shadow, first glancing at the boy on the bed and then to the young man sleeping soundly in the recliner. Dark eyes lifted to her in question.
“He fought the effects of the tea, but he’s out,” she reassured him. “You have some fine boys, Johnny.”
He strode over to the recliner and curled his large roughened hand around the boy’s shoulder. “I do.” His smile was small, almost too small for the weight of pride resting there. He squeezed his son’s shoulder before turning away to check on his youngest.
Pulling back the sheet, John Winchester leaned in to inspect the wound first before his palm slid onto Sam’s cheek while he slipped the back of his other hand over the boy’s forehead to gauge any remaining fever. “He’s warm.”
“Do not worry, his fever is going down.”
John nodded, his eyes tight. “And his leg, did it work?”
Nina Jae came up beside him, noting how John’s hands remained on his son. “I believe his life is no longer in danger, but his leg…” She shook her head. “I do not know.”
John flinched, barely perceptible, but his son must have felt it for his head turned into his father’s palm and his lashes started fluttering.
“Shhh, son, it’s all right.” In all the years she had known the hunter, Nina Jae had never once heard the quality of gentleness in John’s tone. She wouldn’t have believed the man was capable of it.
Sam’s eyes slipped open, a glossy hazel. “Dad?”
“It’s okay, son. You’re okay.”
“Where…where you been?”
John smiled sadly. “Listen to me carefully, Sam. You’re strong. You’re going to keep fighting this. Do you understand me?”
Drowsy eyes struggled to remain open. “Keep fighting.”
John patted Sam’s cheek. “That’s my boy. Now get some rest.”
As though his father’s words compelled him, the boy’s eyes slipped closed again.
John watched him a few more moments before turning his full attention on Nina Jae, transitioning from a worried father to hardened hunter before her eyes.
“I’ll clean out the beasts that got into the sewers, but your people have to do a better job of keeping the wards up around town. People died. My son was hurt.”
“We’ve protected this town for decades and kept the tanahogs protected in the bayou as well,” Nina Jae snapped. “I don’t know how they got past the wards and into the city.”
“Someone got compliance and let their wards age. Or stopped believing and didn’t maintain them altogether. That can’t happen again.”
Shame for whoever of her people had grown lax burned in her gut. “It won’t.”
John turned away, stopping when she touched his elbow.
“The beasts, they are not evil, just beasts.”
The hunter’s lips tightened. Men like him only saw creatures that could kill. “A wolf is only a beast as well, but when a wolf discovers the sheep pen, the animal is killed.”
Nina Jae shied away from that logic. “It was one of these creatures that saved your boy. Do not be so quick to forget that, Johnny.”
He held her gaze, considering, before nodding. “I’ll take care of the beasts in the sewers. Replace the wards. The rest of the tanahogs are your responsibility. Keep the wards vital. Are we clear?”
She nodded.
And John’s features softened, weary. “Thank you for what you’ve done for my son. It won’t be forgotten.” With one last glance toward the bed, John Winchester slipped out as quietly as he came in.
~~~SPN~~~
Dean awoke with a crick in his neck as he took in the unfamiliar pastel green wall he faced. Hospital pastel. He jerked up in the recliner, remembering where he was and more importantly why.
“Sam?”
He scrambled out of the chair, unnerved that he’d fallen asleep, and went to his brother’s side. No one else was about. The room smelled different of hospital disinfectant and shampoo odors instead of the overwhelming scent of sickness and that brownish muck. Sam was clean, his hair damp, his skin less gray. The bedding was fresh. He pulled back the sheet to check Sam’s leg. The brown gunk had been washed away, no trace of it left. Dean gently peeled back the gauze to check the wound. It was still ugly, but no longer swollen or seeping yellow pus.
Next he rested his palm along Sam’s cheek while checking for fever with the back of his other hand on his forehead. Kid still felt a little warm, but nowhere close to putting out the heat waves he had been before. He spilled out a breath in relief. “You’re doing better, Sam. Keep fighting, buddy.”
Sam’s eyes fluttered. His face turned into Dean’s palm and his lashes lifted, revealing those shiny hazels. “Dad?”
Dean chuckled, near giddy at hearing Sam’s voice. “Try again, kiddo.”
“De’n.” Sam’s lips curved into a smile. “Where you been? I lost you.”
“Been right here the whole time. How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Wha’ happened? Where’s Dad?”
Dean frowned. His brother was still out of it, not remembering things right. “Are you in pain?”
Sam’s forehead scrunched as though he had to take inventory. “Leg hurts.”
Worry notched up a rung around Dean’s spine. Pain was good, right? Feeling something? “How bad?” He reached for the morphine button.
Sam’s fingers fluttered on his mattress. “S’okay. Not bad. Tight. Where’d Dad go?”
“Sam, Dad’s not…”
“Was here. Told me…keep fighting.”
Well, Dean wasn’t going to argue with that. If Sam dreamed of their dad telling him to keep fighting, he wasn’t going to take that away. But he did have something else to warn his brother about. His leg, the scheduled surgery, if everything Nina Jae had done last night didn’t work… “Look, Sam, I, uh, need to-“
The door swung open and Dean’s nightmare walked in dressed in surgical scrubs and cap. “Morning, gentlemen, I see you’re up. You’re both up.” Dean tried to gauge by Dr. Willet’s expression where they stood.
“Listen, Doc.” He blocked his way to Sam. “Before you take him, I’m requesting that you run a few blood tests first. He’s looks better. Things could have changed…”
Dr. Willet squeezed Dean’s bicep. “Actually, we already have, early this morning. I tried to wake you, but you were completely under. I…” He glanced down at his scrubs, realizing what Dean must be assuming. “I just came from an emergency Endoscopy. Little girl swallowed a nickel that got stuck in her esophagus.” He shook his head. “What I’m telling you is that I already postponed your brother’s surgery and as long as he keeps improving we won’t need to reschedule in the foreseeable future.”
Every emotion Dean had been harboring over the last couple of days crashed through him, turning his limbs to butter. He sank down to steady himself on the edge of Sam’s mattress, hoping his rubbery legs would hold him.
Sam’s wide-eyed gaze fixed on him. “Surgery?”
Dean shrugged. “Cosmetic. Figured while you were out of it, we could do something about that ugly mug.”
The hazel eyes rolled, unimpressed. “You’re such an ass.”
“And you’re a bitch. What of it?”
Sam yawned and sank farther down into his pillow, his eyes closing. “You were worried.”
Dean grinned. “Shut up, Sam.”
“And we are going to talk about this.” He yawned again. “You can hold my hand if it will make you feel better.”
Willet shook his head, grinning and Dean laughed. “Shut up already.”
“You’re such a girl,” Sam murmured, getting in the last jibe before going under again. And yeah, Dean admitted to himself, when it came to this kid, he was as sappy as it came.
~~~SPN~~~
A week later, Dean crouched down in the center of the tanahog’s refuse lair beside the charred remains of at least four of the large beasts. They’d been burned down to their bones.
“Is she?” Sam waited at the entrance because even though his leg was healing nicely and the kid wasn’t even limping, Dean still didn’t want him having to shuffle his way through the debris field of discarded belongings. Hell, he didn’t want Sam down in the sewers again at all, but Sam was adamant about coming and watching Dean’s back. They’d come loaded for bear, er, tanahog, but hadn’t expected that another hunter had come along and taken care of the nest sometime during Sam’s recuperation.
“It’s hard to tell, but all these bones look larger than the female. I don’t think she’s here.”
Sam nodded. “It was Dad. I told you he was here.”
Dean’s head snapped up. “Then why wouldn’t he let us know he was around? No Sam, I gotta believe if Dad was here, he would have let us know.”
“Who knows why Dad does anything?” Pained acceptance filtered Sam’s tone. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s just coincidence that another hunter got wind of a hunt down here.”
Dean could tell his brother didn’t really believe that and was just saying what he thought he wanted to hear, because damn it, Dean wasn’t about to believe that their Dad would come check on Sam and not stick around when he knew they’d been looking for him for months.
His good mood at discovering this stupid job was completed soured and he was ready to get out of here, get Sammy out of here and back on the road. “Well, whatever man, let’s go.” Swinging to his feet, he strode out of the lair, passing his brother only to stop when he realized Sam hadn’t moved to follow him out. He turned. “Sam. She’s really not there. I promise. I think your tanahog nanny made it out.”
“Yeah, okay.” Turning away from the foul lair, Sam lifted sad dewy eyes to Dean. “Just wish we could know for sure.”
Dean walked back to Sam, taking his elbow to prod him into leaving. “Well, brother, some things you just have to take on faith.” He grinned like a cat with a mouth full of feathers.
Not taking the bait, Sam continued to frown, but walked steadily on at Dean’s urging.
Dean was just happy to be leaving. Once outside, he filled his lungs with the fresh, albeit muggy air, rolling his shoulders before making the small hike out of the edge of the bayou when he had the distinct feeling of being watched and noticed that Sam had stilled too.
Following Sam’s gaze, he saw a flash of light where a small piece of metal hung from the branch of a cypress tree and just beyond that in the shadows the female tanahog watched them. They stared at each other for a long while until Sam took a step toward her and the tanahog flinched and then quietly edged back into the swampland out of sight.
FIN