Triage (4/?, PG13, Dean, Sam, John)
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: 3330.
Warning: Grammar (unbetaed!). I'm really really sorry about the tenses, guys. I'll get it betaed eventually...
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Sometimes you think you made the right call, only to realize you've made a really big mistake...
eeeeeeffffff
Chapter Four
John waved a tired goodbye to the truck driver as the truck left him on the side of the road.
Getting a ride back to town looking like he did - soaking wet, covered in blood and mud - it wasn’t an easy feat on a good day.
This was not a good day.
It had been raining constantly all night long, the rain only gathering in strength. It wasn’t snowing yet, but the weather was bad enough that John figured snow was probably in the cards for later that day.
John had stood shivering by the side of the road for well over an hour before a car finally passed him by. And kept on going. John cursed at it. He was probably pissed enough to shoot at it if his hands weren’t numb from the cold.
It was well over forty miles to town, but John figured walking would get him to his sons faster than just standing out there hoping to catch a ride. Plus, it had the added bonus of warming him up a little, so he started walking.
A little over twenty minutes later a semi pulled up next to him, the driver offering him a ride. John could not have been more grateful. He even managed to stay on his best behavior and not shove a gun to the kind man's face, kick him out, and race the semi to the hospital.
eeeeeeffffff
Today was so not John's day.
It started out bad, and just kept getting worse and worse.
Like this morning, for instance.
The boys woke him up at way-too-early o'clock with their bickering, and even though he'd spent the previous night pouring over his research, John just couldn’t get back to sleep.
Unfortunately, there was no coffee waiting for him.
At all.
Damn boys finished all the coffee and didn’t even bother putting it on the shopping list.
Or he didn’t really bother checking the list. Same difference - no coffee was no coffee.
And of course it figured the town they were staying at was the only town in America that didn’t have a Starbucks in walking distance.
John had dragged himself over to the diner only to find out it was closed in the early hours of the morning, as was the convenience store. And what kind of diner wasn’t open for breakfast anyway? How could his son possibly bitch about wanting to stay in a town that didn’t have a place that served coffee in the morning?
He should have known, right then and there, that his day was going to suck lemons. Hell, it was nearly twenty four hours later, and John was still bitter about the coffee.
And then the boys got home from school and the bitching started again.
John loved his youngest; he really did, with every fiber of his being. Didn’t mean he didn’t want to strangle the boy every time he started with the criticism and the bitchfaces. That boy could sure pout with the best of them.
Of course, none of it mattered later, when John had heard the gunshots.
Yes, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, going after that thing in the kind weather they'd been predicting, but John had honestly thought they could finish it off well before the storm hit.
He should have known better.
The coffee should have been a sign for him to just blow off the hunt and go back to sleep.
But he hadn’t.
There was something out in the woods that was killing people. And if it wasn’t bad enough, the creature found a way out of the woods, killing people in the nearby town.
John couldn’t let that slide. Not with the boys around, anyway.
Normally, he would have just kept with the plan when he heard gunshots.
He'd trained the boys well enough. He had confidence in their ability to take down the creature if it came their way instead of his. John never would have brought them along if he weren’t certain of that fact.
It was the coffee.
For some reason, this time, when John had heard the shots, something inside told him that something had gone wrong.
And yes, that had happened every time. They were his boys after all. Mary's boys. Their babies.
But this time? This time he could feel it. Deep in his gut. Something had gone wrong, and John started running.
Of course, nearly getting his head blown off by his eldest went perfectly with the rest of the day he'd been having. The way Dean had just stood there, gun raised, ready to fire - like he didn’t even recognize his own father…
John hadn’t given it much thought at the time; Dean had been upright and lucid enough to be holding a gun. Sammy, on the other hand…
Sammy was bleeding all over the place.
Dear God in heaven, his baby was bleeding to death, and that had been all John was concerned about.
Getting Sam patched up, getting him to a hospital, and not going completely insane doing it. Wasn’t easy keeping his cool when the boy's brother was puking all over his shoes right behind him, either.
John couldn’t really blame Dean though. Sam had been a mess.
John just kept praying to anyone who'd listen that the boys had made it to the hospital in time.
They'd passed a car wrapped around a tree not long after the trucker picked him up, and John's stomach got tied up in knots. Because yes, Dean was a good driver, but the weather was a bitch and the kid seemed a little shell-shocked as it was.
And it would have been just John's luck to find his boys…
No. He wasn’t going there. Dean was a good driver. He'd get Sam to the hospital. They'd be alright. Sam would be all right.
And Dean not answering his cell phone? Well, that was just the bad reception. Or cell phones weren’t allowed in the hospital. Or maybe the kid had just fallen asleep and didn’t hear the phone.
Or the battery could have died. Just the battery. Not his boys. His sons were all right. They had to be.
eeeeeeffffff
The trucker was kind enough to drop John off less than half a mile from the hospital, and John was grateful for that. He was wet and tired and it was freezing cold outside, but there was less than half a mile separating him from his boys, stopping him from finding out what was going on with Sammy.
If John hadn’t been worried about slipping on ice and breaking his damn neck, he would have run all the way there.
As it was, he trudged along in the rain and the chilling wind, keeping his left arm tight to his chest and repeating a mantra of 'they're fine' over and over in his head.
This day was so not his day.
And yes, it was morning again, and technically it was tomorrow, but still.
There was no coffee that morning, the hunt went badly, Sam had gotten hurt, the damn thing got away from him, he'd slipped in the mud and sprained his wrist, and he was stupid enough to forget getting a duffle from the trunk before Dean had taken off in the Impala, so he had to leave his weapons behind.
Damn things were expensive as hell.
But Sam was going to be okay. Dear God, Sam had to be okay. He just had to be.
eeeeeeffffff
The burst of warm air that hit John when he walked through the automated double doors of the emergency room was almost painful after the freezing cold outside.
The waiting room was surprisingly busy considering the early hour. John scanned the crowd for a familiar face, but if Dean was still here, John couldn’t see him.
He told himself that twist in his gut was hunger. It didn’t have to mean something bad had happened. They probably just moved Sam into a room on a different floor or something, and Dean was busy being a mother hen and watching over him. Or sitting in a different waiting room, biting his nails waiting for news…
John shook his head and made his way to the nurse's station. This was one of the worst case scenarios in the Winchester book - being separated without being able to sync up their stories beforehand. John just hoped the boys remembered their cover IDs, and that his story wouldn’t send up any red flags.
Getting the receptionist's attention wasn’t easy, which was a bit of a surprise, considering he was soaking wet and his clothes were covered in blood and mud. He described his boys, told the receptionist they had come in just a few hours earlier, that they had both been banged up and muddy. He started spinning a story about camping out in the woods just outside of town when she stopped him.
"Look, mister, I'm sorry and all, but my shift started less than an hour ago," she said, "So I have no idea if your sons are here. I could check and see if they got here last night if you give me their names…"
"Of course," John said, and sent out a silent prayer that Dean remembered the name on their most recent insurance card. "Names are Dean and Sam Duffy."
The receptionist blew her gum into a bubble as she slowly typed the names into the computer. John drummed his fingers on the counter.
"I'm sorry, we don’t have a Dean or a Sam Duffy," the woman looked up at John. "You sure you're at the right place?" She asked. And yeah, John was pretty sure a hospital was the right place to be, considering his blood pressure had just hit the roof.
"Check again," He croaked, his mouth suddenly too dry. This was nothing to panic over, he told himself. Maybe Dean just forgot and gave them a different name. It would make a mess of things, but there were definitely worse alternatives.
"I'm sorry," the receptionist started, but John cut her off.
"Look, this place is the closest. They had to have come here! Two boys, teenagers. My youngest was losing a lot of blood, maybe they got mixed up or something…"
"Look, mister, I've already looked," the receptionist said curtly. "They're not here."
eeeeeeffffff
Valerie gritted her teeth as she got out of the elevator and made her way to the nurse's lounge. Her shift ended nearly two hours ago, yet she was still here. And she was not getting paid for overtime; the hospital was very clear about that.
She had spent the past three hours in Legal thanks to Dr. Lopez. The hospital was afraid of a law suit. Well, boo hoo. No way was she going to let them pin this whole mess on her. It was not her fault. She was helping Dr. Archer with the kid's brother. Someone else could have checked up on the kid.
Someone else should have checked that cut on his face.
Someone else could have realized the boy was slowly but surely bleeding to death right there in their own waiting room.
She was definitely not the only staff member on call last night.
No way was she going to take the fall just because she was the only one that bothered to check up on him. Just because she wanted to update a scared kid about his brother's condition.
Those idiot lawyers down in Legal could just go screw themselves if they thought she was going to take the blame for that.
She should sue the hospital herself. That'd show 'em.
"Look, just… Could you find me someone that was here last night?"
"Sir, I've already told you, shift changed over an hour ago. Everyone had already gone home."
Valerie huffed to herself as she passed by the nurse's station. Everyone else had already gone home. Which meant her ride had left and she was stuck waiting for the bus in this weather. Just peachy.
"Two boys. They came here together. My oldest, he's nineteen. Six one, blond hair, a bit of an attitude. The young one's fourteen. Had his stomach slashed open. Surely, someone knows what I'm talking about!"
Valerie froze, a mantra of 'oh, shit' going on in her head.
They hadn’t been able to locate the boys' parents when she went down to Legal, but one thing was made crystal clear by both Legal and the hospital board; when the parents were found, everyone had to pucker up and kiss their asses. Do everything to make sure they wouldn’t sue.
Valerie was pretty pissed off when they first told her that, but hearing the desperate tone in the man's voice… She sighed. Time to pucker up.
"Excuse me, sir?" She interrupted.
"What?" the man snapped at her, and if there was any doubt in her mind the man was related to the two boys, it was gone now that she had a better look at him.
He was in his late-forties, tall and well built, with just the hint of gray in his hair. And there was mud all over him.
"My name is Valerie," she introduced herself. "I was here last night."
The man looked like he was about to collapse. He closed his eyes and let out a breath. "You were?" He asked, a slight quiver to his voice.
"Yes, sir."
"My sons, they came in a few hours ago, but no one can tell me anything…"
"What are your sons' names?" Valerie asked. Not that the names would help her locate his sons anyway. All they knew was that the younger one was named Sam. They filed the older one under John Doe and flagged it with a possible law suit.
But she was curious.
"Dean and Sam Duffy," the man said. Valerie gave a slight nod and went over to the computer.
"Mr. Duffy, I'm sorry to be the one to deliver this bad news," Valerie said. "I assure you our doctors are doing everything in their power to save your son. If only we could have gotten to him sooner…" The man seemed to have lost all color at that.
"Sammy?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Valerie checked again, just to make sure.
"It says here Sam went into to an emergency surgery a few hours ago," Valerie said, "He should be in recovery by now. As far as I know, there were no complications. He should be alright," she added.
The man blinked. "What?"
"I said Sam went into surgery. He had already been admitted to post-op, and it looks like he should be fine."
The man breathed a sigh of relief, his hand going to his heart. When he straightened up and gave her a relieved smile, he looked at least ten years younger. "Lady, no offence but you nearly gave me a heart attack," he said. And now that she was looking at him, he was damn handsome. "Sam's alright?"
"You'll have to talk to his doctor for more details," Valerie said with another nod, "He should be in recovery, that's on the third floor. They'll know more there."
The man nodded at her. "Thanks," he said, "Thank you." He ran a hand over his face and Valerie noticed he favored his left hand, keeping it close to his body. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.
She didn’t care if his hand was just cold and he was trying to warm it up, they were admitting him. She had to let the chief know, of course. And they'd probably run all sorts of expensive tests on him. Anything to avoid the 'L' word.
"Sir, are you all right?" She asked. "Your hand…"
"Oh, no, that's okay," the man said tiredly. "I just slipped on some ice, I think I sprained it," he said dismissingly. "I gotta say, you scared the crap out of me with that whole 'they're doing everything they can to save him'. I thought I was going to lose my…" He narrowed his eyes at the expression on her face. "What?" he asked, and aged ten years right in front of her eyes.
Valerie checked the computer again, just to make sure, but there were no good news there. Teenage John Doe was still in surgery. "Sam's brother. You said his name was…?"
"Dean," the man said, looking uncertain.
Valerie nodded and added the information to the computer file. "We never did get his name," she noted, and then looked up at the nervous father. "Mr. Duffy, your son's condition is very serious," Valerie said tentatively. "Our doctors had been fighting for his life all night."
The man blanched. He looked smaller somehow. He shook his head slightly, took a step back. "But… You just said Sam…"
"Was out of surgery," Valerie nodded. "We believe he'll make a full recovery, but they'll have more details for you up on the third floor."
"Then…"
"I was talking about Sam's brother," Valerie explained. The man's hands started shaking. He looked like he was about to keel over.
"But… Dean wasn’t even…"
Valerie stepped out from behind the counter and led the man to a seat. "We didn’t get his name when he first got here," she said slowly, "He passed out before we had the chance…"
"No," the man ran a hand over his mouth and his wedding ring glinted in the florescent light. "No, I think you've made a mistake. Dean wasn’t hurt, it was just Sam."
"Mr. Duffy, Dean had been suffering from seriously injuries when he got to this hospital," Valerie said slowly. "He was probably already in shock, what with the head injury and all the blood loss…"
"What the hell are you talking about? What blood loss?" The man demanded, getting to his feet again. "Sammy was hurt. He was bleeding. Dean just…"
"Mr. Duffy, please."
"I need to talk to him," Duffy said, "I need to see him, right now," he demanded. "Where's my son?"
Valerie took a deep breath and did her best to remain calm. "Mr. Duffy, as far as I know, Dean is still in surgery up on the ICU floor."
Duffy shook his head in disbelief and looked around the crowded room as if he could find his son just sitting there, reading an old newspaper. "That's not possible," he said, raising his voice. "I'd know if my own son was hurt!"
Valerie caught Janice's eye and mouthed her to go get the chief. Janice nodded and picked up the phone. Taking a deep breath, Valerie faced the distraught father again. "Mr. Duffy, your son had lost a lot of blood by the time he got here. That, combined with his severe head injuries…"
"No! You don’t know what you're talking about!" The man lashed out, though he didn’t seem as sure of himself as he tried to let on. "Dean was okay! You think I'd let him drive if he wasn’t? You think I'd let my kid drive if he had a head injury?"
Well, this was going well, Valerie thought, debating with herself whether or not to tell the man in front of her that his son's heart had stopped at least twice last night. Whether or not to let him know that his kid had lost so much blood, was injured so badly, that they didn’t even know if he was going to make it.
"Where is he?" the man barked at her. "You tell me where my kid is!" He demanded.
"Fifth floor. ICU," Valerie said. "Last I heard, they were still working on him." But the man wasn’t listening anymore; he was already on his way to the elevators.
Great.
She wasn’t a betting woman, but Valerie was willing to bet that meant more unpaid overtime in her near future.
TBC
Previouslies: 1 >> 2 >> 3