And the Ground Shook (6/22)
Mar. 26th, 2007 06:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sams1raCharacters: Hurt!Dean, John, Sam.
Comments: Are loved and coveted.
And the Ground Shook
"That's pretty good. Take it easy, though." Derek said, holding his hands out just in case Dean faltered.
"I got it," Dean muttered, refusing Derek's help. He was disappointed to still be in the hospital. He wanted, needed, to get away, to feel safe again, and he was determined to do whatever it took to get out of the hospital. Even if it meant gritting his teeth at the intolerable pain in his abdomen and pretend he wasn’t exhausted beyond exhaustion.
His father had been watching him like a hawk, making it all that much difficult not to break, not to falter. But he was a Winchester. He was stubborn, and it paid off. Finally, his father had relented and went to get the AMA papers.
"Almost there. You're doing great." Derek said encouragingly. Dean clenched his jaw, nodding lightly. He was half way from the bathroom to the bed, just a few more steps and he was back in bed, a few more steps and he could rest; lay down, close his eyes and give his beaten body some reprieve.
He took a deep breath, concentrating on putting one leg ahead of the other, keeping his eyes on his target, pretending this was just another hunt. He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes momentarily as a wave of blinding pain erupted in his stomach. He bit his lip to stop from crying out, letting out a hiss of pain, wincing. His heart was racing a mile a minute, every beat spreading more pain through his already exhausted body.
"Yeah, I think I have to sit down now," Dean breathed, nearly doubling over, one hand wrapped around his midsection, the other holding the IV stand for dear life. Stars were bursting in front of his eyes. He gasped in pain, a strangled cry escaping his lips.
"You okay?" Derek asked worriedly, holding onto him, not letting him fall down. The world was swimming around him, pain hitting him in waves. He bit hard into his lip, doing his best to just stay on his feet, pain clearly etched onto his face.
"Need to sit." He panted. It took Derek less then two seconds to get the wheelchair, but to Dean, it felt like forever. Derek helped Dean into the chair as Dean blinked in pain, teeth gritted, hands shaking.
"Dean, you okay, man?" Derek asked worriedly. He was standing right next to Dean, his hand touching Dean's shoulder, but his voice sounded faraway, like he was standing outside the room. Dean clenched his jaw, his hands clenched into fists, fingers digging into his flesh. Darkness was starting to cloud his peripheral vision, but the pain kept coming, exploding through Dean's body. "I'm gonna call someone." Derek said, his voice distant and weak. Dean grabbed onto the therapist's shirt, keeping him close.
This will pass, Dean told himself, he just had to breathe through the pain, that's all. It'll be alright. There's no way I'm staying at the hospital just because of one moment of weakness. He shook his head.
"No, wait," he breathed through gritted teeth, trying to swallow, his mouth suddenly beyond dry. "Just… just give me a minute, okay?" He said, trying to blink the darkness away. Derek crouched next to him, his hand still on Dean's shoulder, studying Dean's pain-filled face.
"You want to try and drink something?" Derek offered, seeing the color draining from his patient's face. Dean shook his head, just trying to breathe through the pain. "Okay, let's get you back in bed." Derek said, getting up and wheeling Dean the rest of the way to the bed.
"No!" Dean gasped, just the thought of getting up, of changing his position, was painful. He couldn't move, couldn't possibly get up. Breathing was becoming difficult, or rather, remembering to breathe was becoming difficult. He just had to wait it out, ride the pain out. It'll be alright in a minute, he told himself. It had to be, because he couldn’t stand this pain for much longer.
Derek gave him a worried look, and then reached for the call button to summon the nurses. Dean raised his hand, motioning Derek to stop, and forced himself to take a deep breath. He winced, gasping, blinking fast. "I just… I just need a minute is all." He said, "You were right, I guess… I was pushing too hard… Should've rested before making the way back." Dean forced the words out. The pain will go away eventually, but if Derek presses that button, Dean's chances of getting out of the hospital today were non-existent. He just needed a moment… Dean winced, biting hard on his lip to keep from crying out.
"Hey, buddy." John said as he got in the room. Derek turned to look at him as Dean cursed under his breath and forced a smile onto his lips, praying he didn’t look half as bad as he felt. "How's it going?" John asked, leaning against the wall and eyeing his son. Dean smirked, doing his best to look like he was okay.
"I'm fine." Dean said quickly, not letting Derek answer, "Didn’t make it all the way back to bed, though." He added needlessly, trying to keep his voice casual, hoping his father didn’t catch the hitch in his voice. He smirked again, raising his brows and wishing he could just curl into a ball and pass out.
"Obviously," John noted.
"Did you sign the papers?" Dean asked eagerly. John studied him, and all Dean could think about was a string of very juicy and colorful curses.
"So, you're better now?" Derek asked, and Dean groaned inwardly, keeping his smirk on, jaw clenched. He gave his father a quick glance.
"Yeah," He said, as if it were obvious, "yeah, I'm good. Just needed to catch my breath." He said, hands still clenched into fists, nails biting into flesh.
Derek nodded. "Okay." He said, "So let's get you back in bed. You think you can make it on your own?" the therapist asked, a little confused by his patient's quick recovery. Hell, no, Dean thought, but gave Derek a cocky look.
"Sure." He smiled. Am I standing up yet? Oh, goddammit, crap, crap, crap… Dean thought, swallowing hard. He took a deep breath that cut through him, sending waves of mind-numbing pain through his tortured body. In his mind, Dean screamed his guts out. In reality, he bit his lip, unable to hide a wince of pain as he took another breath, holding it, and pushed out of the wheelchair.
Derek was quick to hold onto his arm, guiding him onto the bed, and Dean wished he could scream and curse out loud. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, dampened his short hair, rolled down his spine, and damn, it hurt!
Dean was still biting his lip, breathing hard through his nose, fighting the darkness that encompassed so much more of his peripheral vision by now. His hands were shaking, his legs practically made of rubber, but he couldn’t afford to let it show. He couldn’t show any weakness, or he wouldn’t be allowed out of the hospital. It was stupid, he knew it was stupid, he knew it was probably even dangerous, but he couldn’t help it. He was scared, and not knowing exactly what it was that was scaring him – well, that was terrifying. Fear he could handle. As long as he understood it, as long as he knew where it was coming from. But this? This was instinct. As twisted and stupid as it may seem, he had to get out of that hospital.
Dean tried to stifle a hiss. Lying flat on his back was not helping. At all. He turned onto his side, but that only elicited another hiss, and a muffled curse. He pulled his knees up, because he couldn’t even breathe otherwise, squeezing his eyes shut as his heart pumped harder, making the pain spread faster.
He did his best to keep his game face on, though, the only lucid thought breaking through the haze of pain was getting out of the hospital, getting someplace safe. He knew he couldn’t possibly keep this up for long, couldn’t possibly keep pretending everything was okay, that he didn’t want to scream and cry in pain. He had to get rid of his dad, and he had to do it now.
"Well, I'm kind of beat." He said, trying to sound cheerful and nonchalant. "I think I'm gonna get some shut eye, get my strength back for the ride home." He said, his voice strangled, his mouth dry. The world was growing darker by the second, sound was dimming, his vision swimming. He thought he heard his father saying something, but didn’t quite catch the words. John pushed away from the wall.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Derek asked, touching his shoulder, looking more concerned than Dean wanted him to look. Dean nodded, smiling weakly, wishing everyone would just go away already so he could burry his face in his pillow and scream. "Maybe you should try drinking now?" Derek offered, and damn it, can't he just get the hell out of here and leave me alone?
"No, man, I'm good." Dean said, swallowing, his eyes closed. "Tired." He added. Derek gave a little nod.
"Okay then. Take it easy, man." He said, exchanging a couple of words with John on his way out. Dean couldn’t care less. He just wanted, needed, to be left alone right now, away from scrutinizing eyes.
"Hey, you sure you're okay there, sport? You look kind of pale…" damn it Dad, now you start caring? Isn’t there a hunt you need to be on, or some research that needs to be done right now? You know, anywhere else?
"Well, let me out of here, and that nice sun outside would take care of that right away. I'll be good as new." Dean rasped. He couldn’t see his father's reaction with his eyes closed, and if John had said anything, it was lost in the rushing of the blood in Dean's ears. Dean could barely feel his father's hand on his leg.
"Just get some sleep, Dean." John said.
"Yes, sir." Dean practically whispered, pulling his legs closer to his chest, wincing, breathing hard.
He blinked a few times as realization took hold.
Something was wrong, very wrong, his brain kept screaming at him, but it was too late now. The pain was too much for him to handle anymore. He gaped, breaking in sweat, trying to… just hold on, but he lost the fight, passing out.
"Hey, kiddo. Thanks." John greeted his youngest, taking the offered cup of coffee from him.
"Is Dean coming home today?" Sam asked anxiously. John took a cautious sip from the hot drink, bobbing his head yes and no.
"I'm getting the AMA papers now, but we'll stay at the motel for a while, until I'm sure your brother's really out of the woods." John said. He eyed his youngest. "You're missing a lot of school." he noted. Sam shrugged.
"I'll catch up." He said dryly, "Is he alone? Can I go see him?" Sam asked eagerly. John nodded lightly.
"He just finished his workout. Looks like hell if you ask me. He's really tired, Sammy, so let him rest." John said, a hint of warning in his tone. Sam nodded.
"He made it all the way to the bathroom and back?" Sam asked. John gave him a long look, and then shook his head slightly. Sam frowned. "It's only a few feet, Dad. It's what, his forth try? Shouldn’t he be getting better at this? I mean, shouldn’t he be walking around already?" Sam asked, voicing John's own thoughts. The older Winchester sighed.
"Give your brother time. He needs the rest." He said, "I mean it, Sammy, don’t go asking too many questions or tease him too much, just let your brother rest, alright?" he repeated. Sam nodded.
"Yes, sir." He said, quickly heading for Dean's room. John took another sip from the hot drink, walking over to the nurses' station to sign the papers. He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure this was the right thing to do. Dean kept saying that's what he wanted, but… John had a feeling his son could use some more downtime. He'd already asked Sammy to draw salt lines in the motel room; in front of the door and window, and around the beds. He'd given Sam Cat's Eye shells to spread around the room, and started listing all the other protective charms he would have to put up once they got there.
"Here you go, Mr. Winchester." Said a middle aged nurse that looked like she was sixty and should probably have chosen another profession.
He thanked her none the less, drinking his coffee and going over the papers. It wasn’t the first time he'd seen AMA papers, probably won't be the last time, either. John reached in his pocket, looking for his pen. That's odd, he could have sworn… He searched another pocket, and smiled to himself as he retrieved the pen. This was not a sign that he was getting older, and he'd dare anyone to say otherwise. He signed the first two of three places, only to realize the pen's ink was getting too faint, so he asked a nurse for another pen, thanking her as he took it, and grinning as she tried to flirt with him. He still had it in him, no doubt.
"Dad!" Sam's frantic cry made him turn. "Dad, something's wrong!" John's stomach lurched, his heart rate skyrocketed as he raced back to his oldest son's room. "He was like that when I came in," Sam explained, "I didn’t like that he was so pale, so I asked him if he were alright…" Sam looked fearfully from his father to his brother. John touched his son's too pale face. Dean's skin was clammy and cold to the touch, and he was still lying on his side, curled up in a fetal position. "I tried to wake him up… I know you said not to, but he wouldn’t wake up…" Sam added in a small, frightened voice. John reached for his son's cold hand.
"Dean, son, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand, okay?" he asked, and waited.
"Dad?" Sam was reaching full-blown panic mode. John looked at him, then back at Dean. With a shaky hand, the eldest Winchester found the nurses' call button, pushing it repeatedly.
"We need help in here!" he cried out in frustration and a hint of panic. Sam just stood there, looking fearfully from his brother to his father and back again.
A nurse came in a moment later, and John snapped at her, yelling at her to get a doctor in there. The nurse went over to Dean's bed to check for the boy's pulse. Her face was a stoic mask as she searched for the faint beat, as she touched the cold skin. And then she rushed outside, calling for everyone she could find.
The next minute the room erupted in a flurry of action as a couple of doctors and a few nurses took over, pushing both John and Sam out of their way. The father and son could do nothing more than watch, hearts pounding.
"He's barely responsive to pain." One of the nurses noted as another brought an assortment of medical instruments.
"His abdomen is rigid." One of the doctors called, as another ordered a couple of nurses around, telling them to inject Dean with this and that.
"There's blood in his urine." One of the nurses called. "You want to do an endoscopy?" Sam looked up at John, eyes wide with fear. John's own throat was constricting. All he could do was watch, helpless, as doctors and nurses fluttered about Dean's bed. Sam gasped as a spray of blood erupted from a newly made incision.
"Damn it, he's bleeding out!" one of the doctors cried.
"BP's falling!" a nurse cried out.
"Must have blown a blood clot." The other doctor commented.
"He needs an OR, now! Lydia, call the OR, tell them we're coming. Tell them to have at least… six units of blood, type specific!" the first doctor cried and one of the nurses left the room in a hurry, just as another announced that Dean's stopped breathing.
They quickly intubated him and rushed him outside the room and over to the operating rooms, still calling out orders on the way. The room fell into an eerie silence, as the two remaining Winchesters stared around them in shock. All that was left in the room were a few medical kits, a few bloody, disposable sterile gloves and robes on the floor, and a red splash of blood where Dean's bed had been just moments ago.
"Dad?" Sam looked up at the oldest Winchester, his voice thick, tears in his eyes. John stared at the vacant space that used to occupy his son's bed with horror-filled eyes, saying nothing.
A moment later, he stormed out of the room and over to the nurses' station, grabbing the AMA papers and ripping them into pieces, because Dean can bitch and argue all he wants, but there's no way he's getting out of the hospital without a clean bill of health, and John'd be damned if Dean is ever hunting by himself again.
TBC
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-26 07:22 pm (UTC)I can understand that Dean is scared but to be so afraid that he's willing to risk his life ... just what the hell happened to him???
I know - I have to wait to find out .. but seriously .. I'll have no fingernails left if you keep me waiting too long ...
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-27 08:43 am (UTC)Besides, Dean's a Winchester... ya know, the stubbornness is in the genes =D
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-26 10:27 pm (UTC)By being so stubborn Dean has got his dad so worried that he'll be staying in hospital a lot longer now.
Looking forward to more.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-27 08:45 am (UTC)Glad you like it, and hope you'll keep liking it =)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-27 08:53 am (UTC)I want to know what happens and the great thing about reading WIP is I can't skip to the last chapter and cheat.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-27 09:52 am (UTC)You can always check that out.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-27 02:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-27 08:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-27 02:49 am (UTC)but damn, Dean, wtf? is it really that frightening being in the hospital...?
can't wait for more, w00t
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-27 08:48 am (UTC)As for Dean, it's not the hospital he's afraid of, but the thing(s) that can get to him while he's in the hospital... ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-27 05:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-27 08:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-27 05:29 am (UTC)Deeeeaaan!
I can't freakin' breathe!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-27 08:51 am (UTC)Breathe, things are gonna get even more tense later... ;)