And the Ground Shook (4/22)
Mar. 22nd, 2007 11:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sams1raCharacters: Hurt!Dean, John, Sam.
Comments: Always.
And the Ground Shook
"Dad!" John started, turning to look at his youngest son. Sam jutted his jaw towards Dean, who's eyes were fluttering. He was waking up. His heart racing, John rushed to his eldest's side, holding his hand.
"That's right, kiddo. You fight it. Open your eyes. Come on, buddy, it's time to wake up." He said. Dean's eyes kept fluttering, and then slowly opened. He looked around him, a glazed look in his eyes, blinking slowly, his eyes opening only half way. "Sammy, go get someone in here." John rasped.
"Hold on, Dean. I'll be right back." Sam whispered to his brother, squeezing his hand, and quickly left to get help. The machines surrounding Dean started to beep faster, alarms going off from several of them.
"Dean, just hold on, son. It's okay, I'm here, just hold on." John said, and that was the last Dean heard before he slipped back to the warm, pain-free darkness.
Just getting his eyes to open seemed a formidable task. He could hear voices, distant voices, but they were too dimmed, too far away. The voices are clearer, though, not as dim as the last time he tried opening his eyes.
There was someone there with him, he could sense it, but it didn’t feel real. Nothing felt real. He tried to gasp and flinched, trying to turn his head when a painfully bright light was practically burning into his corneas. Blood was rushing in his ears, his heart pumping hard. He could hear strange beeping and sucking noises, and, not being able to identify them or even focus his eyes, Dean panicked.
He tried to go back, tried to find that darkness, that safe place where nothing hurt him, but someone, something was holding him back. He felt someone touching him, holding his hand. Someone was there, trying to calm him down, but it didn’t work. Dean's heart was racing, there was something in his mouth; a tube, running down his throat. It was hurting him, choking him. He reached out blindly, trying to pull it out, but someone, something stopped him. And then the darkness returned, and he welcomed it.
Another couple of days passed, a couple of days in which Dean kept slipping in and out of consciousness, before he finally woke up long enough to have the tube extracted from his throat, long enough for the doctors to examine him.
Dean lay in the hospital bed, trying to force himself to stay awake. He was beyond exhausted. There was a sense of urgency he couldn’t get rid of, fear that threatened to control him, but he had no idea why or how to fight it. He let his eyes close, holding on to Sammy's hand. Sam was there, Dad was there, with him. They won't let anything happen to him. He knew they will protect him, but for some reason, the fear wouldn’t go away.
A couple of cops came by to see him. He got nervous at that, cops weren’t a good thing in the Winchester world, but his father didn’t seem bothered by them. He sat with Dean, brushing his hair like he hadn’t done since Mom had died, and whispered in Dean's ears. Dean wasn’t so sure what his Dad had said, though. Coherent thought was there, just beyond his reach. It was too hard to try and grab it. For now, he concentrated on keeping his eyes open, on keeping hold of Sammy's hand. He concentrated on his family, on his father's voice and touch. But his fatigue won, and he soon drifted to sleep again.
"But it's been three days already." John said tiredly. "Shouldn’t he be… better by now?" he asked. Doctor Riley smiled patiently.
"Mr. Winchester, like I've explained, the latest MRI scan showed some intracranial bleeding,"
"But you said it was nothing to worry about," John interjected, "You said it will fix itself, that there won't be any lasting damage…"
"That's right." The doctor nodded.
"Then why isn’t he getting better?" John demanded.
"He is getting better," the doctor insisted, "His tests show improvement. He's breathing on his own, he's more alert, this is improvement. I understand that it can't be easy for you, seeing your son this way, but it will take time. His body has to heal, it takes time."
"He can barely talk." John noted.
"Once the swelling in his brain goes down, the pressure will ease and he'll be back to normal. For now, he needs rest, Mr. Winchester. I understand your frustration, but you shouldn’t push him." Doctor Riley said. "Now, the Neuro consult should be here soon, but as far as I'm concerned, Dean is doing very well." She added patiently. John nodded lightly.
"I just want him to be okay." He said in a small voice.
"And he will be." The doctor promised, and left the Winchesters alone in the room. Sam was watching the little TV, talking to Dean, who had his eyes closed.
John took his seat next to Dean, taking up the paper again. Dean was still having trouble keeping his eyes open, but he was conscious longer now, though still not quite all there. John forced himself to concentrate on his paper. He needed to know what happened, the need burning in his bones, but Dean was in no condition to answer. The job was miles away from where Dean was found, his car was still missing – not that John had wasted much time looking for his son's beloved Impala. John had no idea what had happened, how Dean got to Bowie. This wasn’t the work of a poltergeist, that much John knew for sure, so now he spent his time by his son's bed, researching the area, preparing for the inevitable hunt.
"Can you tell me your full name?" the neurologist asked, shining his penlight into Dean's eyes. Dean flinched away from the light. He cleared his sore throat.
"Dean Mathew Winchester." He said in a hoarse voice. The doctor glanced at John, and nodded when John nodded to show Dean's answer was correct.
"Do you know what day it is?" the neurologist asked. Dean closed his eyes.
"No." he said in a small voice. Sam took his hand, putting a glass of cool water in his brother's hand. Dean opened his eyes, giving Sam a thankful smile and tried to get the glass to his mouth. It felt like it weighed a ton. His hand was shaking, and he nearly dropped the glass, before Sam took it back and helped him sip the cool liquid. Dean only managed to take a few sips before his head dropped back onto the pillow. He closed his eyes again, exhausted, and licked his chapped lips.
"Dean, I'm going to need you to remember three things for me, do you think you can do that?" the doctor asked a moment later. Dean nodded lightly, but didn’t open his eyes. "A pen, a carrot and a clown. You think you can remember that?" the doctor asked. A small grin tugged at Dean's lips.
"Sammy's afraid of clowns." He said.
"Am not!" Sam interjected quickly, voice full of indignation.
"Are too."
"Nah uh."
"Yuh huh."
"Boys." John's voice put an end to the teasing. The doctor smiled.
"Dean, do you remember which state we're in?" he asked. Dean took a deep breath and grimaced in pain. He shook his head.
"Hurts." He said through gritted teeth.
"Your head?" the neurologists asked in a serious tone.
"Everything." Dean said, his uninjured hand wrapping around his midsection. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip. Pain washed over him in waves, he couldn’t even determine where it was coming from; it seemed to be coming from everywhere all at once. Someone was talking to him, but he couldn’t quite understand the words. He tried to take a deep breath, tried his hardest to clear his mind.
"…Me now? Is it better now?" someone asked.
"Dad?"
"I'm right here." John said, his voice filled with worry as he took Dean's hand in his. Dean was breathing hard, a sheen of sweat covering his body.
"Dean, can you hear me?" someone asked. Dean forced his eyes open. It was a doctor, he knew he should recognize him, but he didn’t. Dean squeezed John's hand, trying to overcome the pain.
"Can you remember the three things I asked you?" the doctor asked, and this time, Dean swatted his hand as he tried to shine the penlight in his eyes.
"Pen, clown…" Dean breathed, "There was something else…"
"That's right, take your time…" the doctor said encouragingly.
"I wanna go home." Dean said weakly, "Dad, I wanna go home." John exchanged a worried look with the doctor, and then looked back at his eldest.
"Soon, kiddo. We need to fix you up first." He said in a soothing voice, brushing his fingers through Dean's hair.
"First aid's in the bathroom." Dean murmured.
"That's right, buddy." John said, "But you need a little more than that."
"Sammy's scared of clowns." John couldn’t help the grin on his lips, which widened at Sam's protests. "Dad?"
"Yeah, kiddo?"
"I'm sorry." Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper. John's grin melted away.
"For what?" he asked, but Dean didn’t answer. The painkillers were making him sleepy, knocking him out. John looked up at the neurologist. "How bad?" he asked. The doctor's eyes were intent on Dean's heart monitor.
"It's too early to tell." Was the doctor's evasive answer. "I'll come by again later." He added, and then left.
"Dad?" Sam said in a tiny voice. John let out a sigh.
"Come here, Sammy." he said, extending his hand to his youngest. Sam quickly moved his chair over to his father's side, resting his head against the older hunter's broad shoulder.
"What if he doesn’t get better?" Sam asked fearfully.
"Of course he'll get better, Sammy." John said confidently, "He's a Winchester." He said, looking at the bruises covering the too pale skin of his oldest son. "Besides, he still has to tease you about the clown thing. He's a lot better at it than I am." John added with a slight smile, which grew a little at Sam's irritated huff of air.
The neurologist returned later that evening. Dean has been awake for nearly two hours now, the longest he's been awake in five days. He lay there, with his eyes closed, listening to the TV and to Sammy's chatter.
"Hello, Dean. Remember me?" the neurologist asked. The voice was familiar. Dean opened his heavy lidded eyes and groaned.
"You're the guy with the light." He said, closing his eyes again. The doctor smiled.
"Yes, that's right. My name is Doctor Peterson." The doctor introduced himself again.
"Just keep that light away from me." Dean grunted. John found the remote control, turning the TV off. The doctor smiled again as he reached for Dean's chart, leafing through it.
"I asked you to remember three things," Doctor Peterson said, his eyes still on the chart, "can you remember what they were?" he glanced up at Dean, and then back to study the chart. Dean hesitated.
"Just two. A pen and a clown." He said. The doctor nodded lightly.
"Good. That's good. The third thing was a carrot. Can you remember that?" Dean sighed, shrugging.
"I don’t really do vegetables." He said, making the other three men in the room smile.
"All right, how about a tree?" Peterson asked. Dean nodded lightly. Peterson took a seat next to Dean's bed. "Does your head hurt?" he asked. Dean opened his eyes for a moment.
"I never realized it weighs so much." Dean said, and Sam smiled. He was about to say some smartass remark but John cleared his throat, making sure Sam stayed quiet.
"But does it hurt?" the neurologist persisted.
"Don’t know," Dean sighed, "everything hurts." He admitted wearily.
"Do you remember what happened to you? Why you're in the hospital?" the doctor pushed. Dean shook his head lightly. John's expression hardened.
"Why can't he remember?" he asked.
"Well, he's had a nasty concussion. His scan shows the swelling is starting to go down, he'll probably remember things in time. And I'm sure all the drugs he's on can't be helping. I'm not worried so far." The doctor said, then turned to Dean, "Dean, do you remember the three things I asked you to remember?"
"Tree, clown, pen." Dean said without hesitation. The doctor nodded. "My car." Dean said a moment later and the doctor raised a brow. "I don’t remember what happened to my car." Dean explained.
"We'll take care of that later." Peterson said. Dean snorted.
"Easy for you to say, it's not your car."
John wasn’t worried so much about Dean telling the doctors he didn’t remember what had happened to him. It wasn’t like he'd expected his boy to tell them the truth, after all. Neither one of the Winchester men liked hospitals all that much. Being committed to one certainly wasn’t their kind of fun. But when two more days have passed, and Dean still had no memory of his attack, he started to grow worried. He asked Dean, in private, to tell him about the hunt. All Dean could say was that the last thing he remembered was getting to the house. He had no memory of ever going in, of ever coming out, or getting to Bowie.
Dean's tests have shown improvement, though, and the swelling to his brain had nearly disappeared. The doctors explained that short time memory loss wasn’t uncommon in such cases, but John didn’t like it all the same. He needed to know what he was hunting.
It took another day. He was finally getting some sleep when his son's voice woke him up. John grunted, his aching joints and cramped muscles protesting.
"What is it, son?" John asked, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, keeping his voice low as not to wake Sammy.
"I think something's wrong with me." Dean admitted in a tiny voice. John frowned.
"Nothing's wrong with you, kiddo. You just took one hell of a beating. You'll be okay." He said, but Dean didn’t look convinced. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his eyes open. "Go to sleep, son. You need the rest." John said, stroking his son's bruised cheek.
"I think… I think I remember now." Dean said slowly, licking his dry lips, "Not everything, but…" he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, wincing as he did. John leaned forward.
"What?" he asked, Dean shook his head.
"Not much. It's just… the poltergeist…" he said in a small voice.
"What about it, son?" John asked. Dean closed his eyes, taking a long time to answer.
"It wasn’t there." He said eventually. "The house was empty. I didn’t find anything inside." Dean said. John's frown deepened.
"What do you mean, you didn’t find anything? There was a…"
"No." Dean stopped him. "Not a poltergeist." He added.
"Then what?" John demanded.
"Trap."
TBC
Where it all started >> 2 >> 3
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 01:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 01:32 pm (UTC)More is coming soon.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 02:43 pm (UTC)I know John is on the edge of his seat, waiting. I'm so glad Dean is waking up. I shall wait, not so patiently LOL, for the next chapter.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 03:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 03:29 pm (UTC)yay! can't wait for more!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 05:52 pm (UTC)1 -- great story, really enjoying it and *definitely* waiting for the next bit. there are a couple of verb tense things going on in this chapter -- switches from past to present, that i caught, but the pacing (as kamikaze_redux pointed out) is pretty nifty.
2 -- kamikaze_redux, your icon is keen. it's giving me ideas. naughty Dean ideas. tee hee!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 05:57 pm (UTC)Looking forward to more.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 06:40 pm (UTC)I'm glad you're enjoying this, and hope John isn't the only one on the edge of his seat ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 06:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 06:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 06:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 06:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 06:59 pm (UTC)Wondering about the 'trap' though - was it set up for hunters in general or Dean in particular??? Hmmm ....
Loved how Dean, once some of his senses had returned, began fretting about the car ...
No mention of the tattoo yet - but the sense of urgency Dean seems to be feeling - things aren't over for him yet are they? Not by a long shot ...
Really enjoying this .. thanks for the update.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 07:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 08:56 pm (UTC)Don't worry, answers will come soon, but you're right. Thing's aren't over, not for a long while... ;)
Glad you're enjoying this and thanks for the comment.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 09:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-22 11:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-23 03:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-23 06:05 am (UTC)I don't know if it's good news or not, but this story has planty of cliffies ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-23 06:06 am (UTC)Update should be up by tomorrow =)