A/N: This is for my friend Pooh. She asked me to expand on my drabble for the word 'lap' because she likes herself some hurt!Sammy. :D For you, Sweetie! It's also for IheartSam7 who's also wishing for some hurt!Sam. Enjoy, girls! hugs
Thanks to Merissa for the awesome beta job. :)
Disclaimer: Yeah, they're not mine, darn it.
The classic car pulled up to the deserted house; it's smooth rumble giving only a hint of the power beneath the hood. The driver cut the engine; he and the passenger sat for a moment staring out the windshield at the eerie behemoth before them.
Without speaking, they glanced at each other and simultaneously opened their doors to exit; the familiar squeak calming to their frazzled nerves as they met at the trunk of the car.
"Are you sure about what's going on in there?"
"No, Sammy, I'm not sure." Dean's fingers made quotation marks in the air. "You did the research and this is what I came up with based on that." He handed his brother a shotgun, some salt rounds and a flashlight. "Is your research accurate?"
Checking the loads and accepting the extra rounds along with the flashlight, Sam nodded. "It's accurate, but there were so many violent deaths here . . . "
"Yes, but this is the only relic that's left from one of them. That hall tree with the mirror was purchased by Mrs. Norton, the first violent death in 1919. There have been too many accidental deaths and the rest of the furnishings have been replaced. By the way, what is a hall tree?" Dean turned to his geek brother for an answer.
Sam blinked. "It's a beautifully carved storage bench with a mirror and hooks for coats and umbrellas and stuff. People in the old days would have used it to check their appearance before leaving the house." He looked at his brother pointedly.
"What? What's the matter with the way I look?"
The younger hunter rolled his eyes. "Nothing. You're gorgeous."
Dean smiled. "Why thank you, Sammy. Anyway, it's too bad about such a beautiful piece of furniture, but we have no choice." Similarly outfitted, he cocked his own shotgun and looked up at his brother. "Are you ready to do this?"
The younger hunter cast a skeptical glance up at the house and back to his brother. "I am. Let's go."
Dean slammed the trunk lid closed and the hunters headed toward the front door, Dean leading the way with Sam watching their rear. The half moon several degrees above the horizon created eerie shadows from the bushes by the front porch. The younger hunter's eyes didn't miss anything as they moved around the area, absorbing everything.
Dean concentrated on what was in front of him, not worrying about what was behind. Of course, he kept his 'Sammy' senses alert to detect any change in his brother at all; he trusted that his younger brother had things in hand. If there was a danger, Dean would know about it milliseconds after Sam did.
The front door was slightly ajar indicating that no one really cared about what happened in the house at the moment. There had been a storm the day before and Dean supposed the intense winds had blown it open. Apparently, no one had been by to check on the place since then. The older hunter gave the door a shove with the barrel of the shotgun, hesitating until it swung mostly open in case someone or something was ready to jump them. Nothing supernatural or otherwise leaped out at him, so he continued forward. A creak of the floor behind him briefly caught his attention but was immediately dismissed, as he sensed no change in his brother. He moved into the entry far enough to allow Sam to enter as well, shutting the door behind them.
Both hunters took in the ancient hallway before them; the hall tree in question was just a few feet inside the door on the right side wall. On either side of the hallway a little further on were doors most likely leading to parlors or dining rooms. Dean glanced back at Sam indicating that the younger hunter should wait there and cover him while he checked the rooms.
Sam grimaced but gave a slight nod.
Dean's eyes gave a knock it off message to his little brother, missing Sam's rude gesture as he turned and walked quietly down the hall and gave the hall tree a suspicious once over as he passed it. Reaching the first room, he stopped at the edge of the doorway and gave a quick peek into the room. When nothing happened, he stepped forward to get a better look hearing Sam suck in a breath as he did. Nothing.
Dean reappeared in the hall, much to his brother's relief, stepping cautiously toward the opposite room and giving a repeat performance of the first one. He gave the room a thorough search, but nearly stumbled when he heard Sam's yelp accompanied by the sound of something large falling. He ran back into the hall to find his little brother being thrown against the wall, allowed to drop, then thrown against the opposite wall by an invisible force.
The older hunter went into action immediately, trying to find the source of Sam's torment and shouting encouragement and hope to his sibling. "Hold on, Sammy! I'm coming. Don't give up. Let go of my brother, you bastard!"
Frustrated at the lack of a target for his shotgun, Dean began kicking at the hall tree and growling his anger. The antique piece of furniture began to cooperate by falling apart and giving the hunter all the encouragement he needed to increase his energetic attack. A sudden force knocked him away from his task, but it was apparently preoccupied with his brother as he was able to get back up and renew his efforts. He angrily threw his shotgun to the floor to pull the salt and lighter fluid from his jacket pocket, throwing both liberally over the wreck before him. Terrified by the sudden silence from his brother, he almost couldn't find the matches he knew he'd brought. Finally finding and lighting them, he threw them on the pile as he jumped back to avoid the flames.
The hunter covered his ears against the deafening screech of the entity as he headed for Sam. The flash of flame caused his eyes to blur for a second, but his forward motion didn't falter; he skidded to his brother's side on his knees as the ash dissipated in the air. The younger hunter was very still and covered in blood; too much blood.
"Sam? Sammy? You with me?" His little brother gave no response as Dean tried to get his attention. "Come on, Sam, we can't stay here; I need you to wake up for me!"
Sam gave no indication of being aware at all. His eyes were closed, head lolled to the side, arms limp, and legs askew causing Dean's worry to ratchet up several notches. The blood he found coming from his brother's head did nothing to quell the burgeoning panic.
Dean could hear the flames gobbling the wood and getting stronger behind him as it found more fuel in the old wood of the house; his lungs objected to the smoke as he tried to wake his unresponsive little brother. Knowing they had very little time, Dean made a decision and began working to get the both of them out of the house. The building was old and would burn very easily and quickly.
The older Winchester maneuvered Sam so that he could grasp him from behind and pull him out the door. Grabbing the bigger man's hands, he pulled with strength born of desperation causing progress to be swift and sure. He kicked out behind him at the front door, overjoyed with the satisfying sound of wood splintering and metal hinges in agony. The brothers were through the entrance to safety with only a few minor injuries from the broken door. Dean hardly felt them due to the adrenalin rush coursing through his veins; Sam gave no indication of anything.
Dean made a beeline for the Impala, carefully setting his brother on the ground, propped against the rear passenger tire. Sam was still out of it, but his older brother refused to think about that situation; there were things that needed to be done and done quickly. He spared a glance toward the house, thinking for a split second about going back for his favorite shotgun; the thought was instantly rejected as he opened the passenger door of the car to begin the task of getting his gigantic little brother settled on the seat, being extra careful of the injury to the younger man's head. He frantically searched the back seat until he found a towel to wrap the wound to stop the bleeding.
Slamming the door and getting behind the wheel, the anguished hunter started the powerful engine, slammed the car into gear, and took off in a hail of dust. He glanced into the rear view mirror but there was no sign of anyone taking an interest. The big house, however, was really showing signs of having caught on fire. They hadn't meant to burn the entire house to the ground, but Dean was having a hard time feeling any kind of regret for the loss. That bitch had tried to kill his brother; there was no way he was taking a chance on doing an incomplete job.
It'd been three hours since they took Sam from him and disappeared through those doors. His watch, the clock on the wall, and the guy's watch sitting next to him all agreed on the time. The guy was starting to get aggravated with him for asking so many times. Dean did feel a little bad about it; people don't usually come to the ER to just hang out, so the guy would have had his own problems. The hunter was working himself up to making an apology and trying to act interested, when he heard his name called; or rather he heard a somewhat familiar name called. He jumped up and moved toward the tired looking man in scrubs.
"Mr. Woods? I'm Dr. Marcus. I've been taking care of . . ." he consulted the chart in his hand, "Sam."
"How's my brother?" Dean's worry could hardly wait for the doctor to stop speaking.
The exhausted man took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Why don't we step into my office over here, Mr. Woods; no point standing out here in the open."
Dean wasn't sure he wanted to follow this man anywhere; he wanted to be with his brother, but knew he had to play whatever game necessary in order to accomplish that goal. Besides, this was the man with the answers he wanted — no, needed to have. The doctor held the door for Dean, closing it behind them both and indicating that the hunter should be seated.
"Your brother went through a lot. He has a fractured skull, a couple of broken ribs in addition to the bruised ones, and his left shoulder was dislocated. We've set the dislocation, but it's going to be very uncomfortable for a while. The broken ribs will be fine in time. At least they haven't been displaced and as long as your brother doesn't misbehave, there's no danger of them damaging any vital organs. He's really going to have to take care for a while. Is Sam kind of rambunctious, Mr. Woods?"
Dean chuckled and ran a hand over his face before answering, "If sitting at a computer and pounding a keyboard all the time is considered rambunctious, then that's what he is."
Marcus nodded in understanding. "That's good. How did you say this happened again, Mr. Woods?"
"Dean. I don't know. He'd gone out on a food run, but didn't come back. I went out looking for him and found him like that. It must have been a mugging or something."
"Have the police been here, yet?"
"I talked to them about an hour ago. They'll be keeping an eye out. Why do you ask?"
The doctor looked down at his hands, finding a fingernail very interesting. "Sam has a fractured skull, Dean. He's unconscious and in a coma. The brain is swelling, but we're hoping it will stop before surgery becomes necessary. If it doesn't . . ."
Coma. A four-letter-word. Dean was fond of using a number of different four-letter-words, but that wasn't one of them. He scrubbed his face with his hands and ran them up through his hair. "I need to see him."
"Like I said, he's in a coma and most likely won't know that you're there. You probably should get some rest and come back in the morning."
Dean stood up. "I need to see my brother."
Dr. Marcus' eyes opened wider, seeming to rethink his previous statement. The man in front of him made no threatening moves, but he exuded danger.
"I believe something can be arranged. Let me verify his room number for you." He turned to the phone on his desk. A moment later, he turned back to face Dean.
"Your brother has been moved to room 232. He's still out. It's possible your presence might actually be beneficial to the patient."
"Thank you, Dr. Marcus." Dean extended his hand.
Dr. Markus shook the offered hand and gave a huge sigh of relief as the young man left the room in search of his brother's room.
Dean stood at the door to Sam's room staring at his unnaturally still brother lying on the hospital bed. It wasn't the first time he'd seen his sibling hooked up to monitors, oxygen, and IVs; but it never got easier. This time was different though; Sam wasn't sleeping, he was in a coma. The hunter shuddered as the word stomped through his mind and on his heart.
Straightening from his slouch against the doorframe, Dean moved into the room to stand by Sam's bed.
"Hey, Sammy. Doc tells me you're in a coma. Kind of dramatic, don't you think? I need you to wake up now, okay?"
The hunter reached forward to place his hand on Sam's forehead, his face falling in disappointment when there wasn't even so much as a slight flinch at his touch. He was reluctant to break contact for even a moment, but looked around the room for a chair; he found one against the far wall. Removing his hand, he took the three steps to the chair and brought it over so he could sit next Sam's bed. He sat quietly for a few moments looking at his sleeping brother; without a word, he picked up the lax hand in his own and softly spoke one word, "Sammy."
Dean had thought the beeping of the machinery was making him crazy — make that crazier; he was beginning to think he was already crazy. The machinery beeping was really getting on his nerves so he asked if it were possible for the sound to be turned off in the room. That had been an hour ago and he was already climbing the walls. The silence was way too much — but he was damn sure he didn't want to hear any more of those beeps. What he wanted was for his freaky little brother to WAKE THE HELL UP.
He sat staring at Sam's still form, knowing that he really needed to get out of there, even if just for a little while. He hated to leave Sam alone in case he woke up, but the older hunter wouldn't be responsible for his actions if he didn't get some air. Jumping out of his chair, he patted the still hand on the bed and took off at a brisk walk. He stopped at the nurses' station to let them know he'd be back in ten minutes and headed for the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time.
The hospital owes me one for not taking the elevator and punching a hole in the wall. Hell, it owes me for just going outside.
As soon as the hunter reached the exterior of the hospital, he stopped running to place his hands on his knees and take a deep breath, straightening up to blow it out as he did so. Only slightly surprised it was morning, he took another deep breath and concentrated on blowing out some of the tension knotting his muscles; happy to find the exercise actually had a positive effect.
Finally taking stock of his surroundings, Dean realized the Impala was only several yards away and started jogging in its general direction. He pulled the driver's door open and slid behind the wheel, finally relaxing completely as the familiarity of the only home he's ever really known seeped into his soul.
"What can I do, Baby? Sammy's in that building in a coma and I need to be with him, but it's just making me all kinds of crazy in there."
He placed the key in the ignition to listen to some music and was soothed as ACDC blasted from the speakers. The exhausted hunter lets his head flop onto the back of the seat and closed his eyes to soak in the feeling of 'home'. It's only for a few moments though, and he was sitting upright again. It's not 'home' without Sammy where he belongs there in the passenger seat.
Dean grabbed the ignition keys and got out of the car, slamming the door as he walked back to open the trunk and wondered what he was looking for as the lid went up. He stood staring at the contents and running the inventory through his mind. With a start he realized that there was probably an old Walkman in there somewhere and dove in.
If I can find that Walkman, I can listen to some of my tapes and not hear the machines — or the silence.
There was no Walkman. This fact almost brought the hunter to tears. Not paying attention to what he was really grabbing, but knowing he had to get back to Sam's room, he picked something up, slammed the trunk lid, and jogged back to the building and his comatose little brother.
Hoping against hope as he headed toward Sam's room, he slowed a little and peeked around the door before entering. No change. He slapped the door jam as he entered and took his place back in the World's-Most-Uncomfortable-Chair.
Really seeing it for the first time, Dean put the small tin box on his lap and opened the lid; inside were pictures he'd been given from the basement of their old house in Lawrence. They hadn't looked at them in a long time and he wondered why.
First was a picture of him holding a baby Sammy. He remembered when that picture was taken, smiling at the memory. He'd been so proud to be holding his baby brother and having their picture taken together. He'd gladly taken on big brother responsibilities right from the start.
There were other pictures of his family; everyone looking quite happy, but he was constantly pulled to the one of him happily holding his baby brother. It was his job to take care of that little bundle and he'd always done the best he could.
Glancing over toward the unconscious form in the hospital bed, he let the pictures drop back into the tin. "Aw, Sammy. You were easier to protect then."
Dean leaned toward his brother and picked up the unmoving hand he'd been holding before.
"You know, you're going to have to wake up, Sammy. We can't stay here. We're in the clear, but it's time to get back out on the road. There are still lots of evil asses out there that need the special Winchester brand of kicking, you know? Sam? Can you hear me, Sammy? I really need you to wake up, Dude. I thought there was an old tape player in the trunk and I could bring it in here to listen to some music while you get your beauty rest, but there wasn't. No tunes for me, I guess. But look what I did find."
Dean held up the tin of pictures and began describing them to his brother, telling a little story to go along with them to keep himself occupied and give Sam something to lock onto as he woke up.
"It's really boring here, you know. Those beeps were driving me crazy, so they turned them down and now it's too quiet. You need to wake up and keep me company. You know how I feel about hospitals, man and there aren't even any really hot nurses here."
The hunter put his head down on the bed, rocking it back and forth in his sadness and worry.
"Sammy, please wake up, dude; I don't like it here without you. Please don't leave me here alone; I'm begging you, Sam."
Tears that he didn't know were building up in his eyes began to moisten the bed sheet as his grief finally bubbled to the surface. He gave in and let them go; not realizing that he was actually shaking the bed.
The sound was so soft, he wasn't sure he'd heard it; but he raised his head, wiped his eyes, and pulled himself together to talk to his brother.
"Dnnn." A whisper.
"Sammy! Come on, dude, you can do it. Wake up for me." Dean once again took hold of his brother's hand.
Sam began to grimace, head rolling back and forth a little as he tried to bring himself fully awake. The older man stood to lean over his sibling and placed his free hand on younger man's forehead.
"De-n?" A little stronger.
"That's it, Sam, You can do it. Open those eyes for me; I'm right here, Sammy."
The hand he was holding weakly began to squeeze his own, fueling Dean's encouraging words as he squeezed back.
"That's it, Little Brother! Come on back to me, okay? You're doing great; just get those eyes open so I can see you. You know I can stand here all day and talk until you realize there's no use in resisting. You might as well give up on that and just wake up already, huh? Please, Sammy?"
Suddenly, Sam's whole body was getting involved in the waking up process, causing his older brother even more excitement. Legs began to move and the hand that Dean was holding squeezed so hard, the hunter almost yelped in surprise.
"Deeeeeennn" Much stronger.
That's it! That's my boy! Come on, Sam."
Sam's head stopped its unsettled movements, facing Dean's direction. Eyelids began to flutter and finally open all the way only to close again.
"Sam. Open 'em up, Sammy. Don't go back to sleep on me, man."
He stared intently at Sam's eyelids, willing them to open and stay open — and then they did, the hazel eventually finding focus on the familiar face hovering above him.
"Dean?" Not as strong, but really there for the first time.
"Yeah. Welcome back, man. It was getting pretty boring with you sleeping all the time. I know you need a lot of beauty sleep, but you don't need to take it all the time, dude; that's just inconsiderate."
Sam huffed an almost laugh as he blinked, trying to bring the rest of his surroundings into focus.
"Yeah. You've been in a coma; your brain was swelling and they were talking about surgery if it didn't stop."
Roving hazel eyes snapped back to focus on his own.
"Yeah. I don't think they'll do that now, though. I'm really relieved because who knows what they'd find in that ginormous brain of yours. I'll let them know you're awake and we'll see what they think about that."
Dean reached for the call button, but continued talking to keep his brother focused and awake. In a very short time, the room seemed to fill with nurses along with a couple of doctors and Dean felt himself being pushed aside. He tried to keep eye contact with Sam, but it wasn't possible; he signaled that he'd be there when they were gone and Sam nodded his understanding.
It seemed like hours before Sam's room emptied of enough people so that Dean could get back to his brother. All but one nurse and one doctor had gone, allowing Dean to get to Sam's bedside. The doctor glanced from Sam to Dean and back, reaching a hand out to the older hunter.
"I'm Dr. Jacobson, the neuro on call. We're really happy to see that Sam's awake, as I'm sure you are as well. The equipment here is showing everything to be going very well, but we'll have to run some tests to see how it's actually going on the inside of his brain. We need another MRI to check for the bleeding and they've already drawn blood to get his levels. The MRI is being scheduled right now, so it should be fairly soon."
The doctor's smile was infectious and the fact that Sam was awake made it easy for Dean to respond to it with his own.
"Whatever's gotta be done, Doc, you go right ahead." The hunter turned his eyes to Sam's, which were blinking very slowly. "You going to take a nap, Sammy?"
Sam's eyes found his brother's; no words were spoken, but the understanding passed between them like it always had. Dean patted his little brother's arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze as the younger man's eyes slipped closed and stayed closed. This time, Dean wasn't panicked at his brother's closed eyes. This was healing, restful sleep.
"Does he need to be awake for any of the tests, Doc?"
"No, he'll be coming and going for some time over the next couple of days. His body's been through quite a bit; the rest will do him good. An orderly will come and get him when it's time for the MRI. Feel free to walk along with him if you like." The doctor shook Dean's hand once again and, with a final glance at the sleeping figure on the bed, headed out of the room.
Dean gave a salute to the doctor's retreating back and stood looking at his sleeping brother for a moment before practically falling into the chair he'd vacated before.
"Sam, man! You really had me going there for a while. Don't scare me like that! Thanks for coming back, Sammy."
As he sat there staring at his sleeping sibling, his own eyelids slid closed.
3 Days Later
"I want to go AMA, Dean! I want out and the doctor said he wasn't ready to release me."
Dean put a calming hand on his agitated sibling's shoulder. "Not this time, Sammy. You were really hurt this time and in a coma for a while. I'm not taking any chances with you getting out too soon. Not happening."
Sam deflated against the bed sheet. "I do not want to stay here anymore," he whined. Turning up the wattage, he turned sad eyes on Dean. "Please, Dean? I'm going crazy in here."
Dean was screwed; his little brother knew exactly how to get what he wanted from him. Usually it was Dean who was champing at the bit to get out of the hospital. They were in there way too often for either of their liking.
"Look, Sam; I do NOT want to take chances with this. You were in a freakin' coma for crying out loud! But! I'll talk to the doctor and try to work some magic for you. If he caves and let's you go, I'll go along with it. You're not leaving AMA though dude and that's that. Deal?"
The younger hunter frowned. As much as he appreciated his big brother's protectiveness, it could be wearing at times. He had to admit it was a good deal, though. It would work; Dean could charm anyone — male or female. It would work. Reluctantly, he nodded his head.
Dean breathed a sigh of relief as both brothers settled in to watch some television and await the arrival of the doctor.
Two hours later, Dean was bringing the Impala up to the front door where an exhausted Sam was sitting in a wheelchair awaiting his arrival. It was still scary to the older hunter how pale his little brother was, but he knew he would be all right; Dean was going to make sure of that very thing. He jumped out and headed toward the passenger door, fussing a little and earning himself a glare from his younger sibling. That glare just brought a smirk to the older man's face; he was looking forward to using some things that had happened in the hospital for blackmail. When Sam was comfortably seated and the nurse dutifully waved at and thanked, Dean fairly skipped to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel once again.
The only home that Sam had ever known pulled out of the parking lot onto the street. Dean glanced at his little brother. "So! Where to, Dude? Where do you want to go?"
Sleepy eyes searched for his brother's face. "I don't care, man. I'm home and that's all that matters to me."
Dean's heart melted just a little more as he saw Sam's eyes slowly close. "Good to have you back, Sammy."
The sleeping man settled more fully into the corner, but didn't respond.
The familiar rumble of the Impala's powerful engine was a comfort to both hunters as she sped down the highway.