Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural were created by Eric Kripke. The show is owned by the CW network. No profit is being made.
NOTE TO READERS: I plan on making this a chapter story. I'm not sure how long it will be, but I'll see how it goes.
Yet, another take on the events following "Devil's Trap." This will be AU because this story will not follow the likely outcome of the season opener.
And, to everyone waiting for my final installment to my "Uninvited" SN story series, I promise I am writing it currently, and as soon as it is finished I will post it. Thanks for your patience! I just had this story knocking around and had to start writing, sorry.
Thanks to every reader that has reviewed my other stories. Read and Review!
Between the Shadows
By Dawn Nyberg
"… Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us. So you must not be frightened, if a sadness rises up before you larger than any you have ever seen; if a restiveness, like light and cloud-shadows, passes over your hands and over all you do. You must think that something is happening with you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand; it will not let you fall…" Poem excerpt by Ranier Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet
It had been a few hours since Dean had opened his eyes and his nurse had explained to him about the accident with the semi-truck. He knew his Dad was a couple rooms down from him, and was expected to make a full recovery. He had a severe concussion, but had regained consciousness in the ER and had even had the strength to explain the gunshot wound to the questioning staff. He had broken four ribs, and dislocated his shoulder. He was in and out of consciousness, but Dean had been assured that his father was doing well. The doctors couldn't believe his father's luck at not dying in the crash. They had been in the hospital a full 30 hours now give or take, and Dean had only seen his brother once, and even then it hadn't been in person. He had seen Sam talking to his nurse outside his room, but he never came in. He stared at the ceiling of his ICU room. His chest hurt, and he had been told he had undergone surgery to repair a punctured lung and a nicked artery. He had also received two blood transfusions, and had a mild concussion.
A noise at the door pulled him from counting ceiling tiles. "Hey," Sam stood hunched in the doorway.
"Finally decided to crawl out from whatever rock you've been hiding under, huh?" Dean's tone sounded harsh. Sam walked in a stood a couple feet from Dean's bed.
"You look better than you did in the ER," Sam commented. He decided not to address Dean's irritated comment. Dean looked at Sam and saw the stitches peeking out from under his hairline and ran down to part of his right temple.
"You okay?" He couldn't help himself he had to ask.
"He should be in a hospital bed like you," Dean's nurse commented as she entered the room to check his fluid levels and vitals, and felt compelled to comment on the younger man's health.
"I'm fine," Sam groused. Dean looked at Sam his jaw line was tight and his lips were thinned out in what Dean surmised was either exhaustion or pain, maybe both.
"What's she talking about?" Sam didn't comment, so Dean turned to the source. "What do you mean he should be in a bed?"
"He was diagnosed with a severe concussion and you shouldn't fool around with those."
"I had an MRI, they didn't find anything wrong."
"That's true, but your concussion should be monitored properly in the event you have a complication."
"I'm fine, and I don't remember asking your opinion." Sam's head was killing him, and this headache felt like it was going to push his brain from his skull. He idly wondered if it would begin to ooze out his ears from the pressure.
"Well, whatever," she commented. "Your brother needs his rest and since you signed yourself out AMA you'll have to leave ICU when visiting hours are over and that's in five minutes."
"Whatever," Sam grumbled.
"Have you seen Dad?" Sam shook his head. "What? Why not?"
"He doesn't want to see me," Sam commented sadly. "He blames me for not …" Sam didn't finish his sentence. They were in public and there would be no demon talk, but Dean knew what he wasn't saying.
"That's nuts Sam." Dean was angry.
"He was right though," Sam replied "It could have been over, if I had done what he asked."
"Kill him, Sam," Dean hissed under his breath. "You think you should have? He's our father."
"I couldn't do it anyway," Sam said quietly. Dean was tired and in pain, so his temper was getting the better of him.
"Where the hell have you been anyway? I know you haven't been sitting with Dad, and I saw you a while ago out in the hallway. What is it? Dad and me crimp your lifestyle or something? I know," he complained. "We aren't a part of that normal life, right?"
"Dean… you know that isn't true. You said I was selfish back in Jefferson City only cared about revenge. It's not true you know, I sided with you in that cabin, and I put you and Dad first above killing the demon."
"What? You want a cookie? It's one damn moment out of a lifetime Sam," Dean hissed. "Just get the hell out, I don't need you!"
"Dean," Sam tried to placate his older brother. "What that demon said was a pile of bullshit, you know that right? I'm not Dad's favorite. And, we do need you," he paused. "I need you. You're my brother." Dean leveled his brother with a hard glare.
"I said get the hell out of here. I don't want to see you right now. Just go!" Sam dropped his eyes from Dean's glare, and stepped back to leave.
"Okay, I'll be back later," his voice defeated. He turned and made it to the threshold of the door and stopped. He reached his hand out to steady himself. His head was suddenly exploding in a red hot pain, and he could feel the room start to shift.
"Don't bother," Dean barked. "What you need to be thrown out?" He sat watching Sam's back as he stopped in the doorway. Sam slowly rotated to his side, and Dean watched his brother hold on to the door and slowly slide down the door threshold to a seated position. "Sammy?" His voice held no anger only concern. Sam shifted his eyes toward his brother. And, Dean saw pain and fear, raw fear. All of his anger evaporated like a morning fog in the hot afternoon sun. "Hey! Help! I need some help!" He was hitting his call button. He was wired to so many IV's and machines. And, his sutures prevented him from getting up. "Sammy!" He tried to get up, but he literally couldn't, and it filled him with an unequaled rage.
"Dean," Sam looked at his brother his voice a pained plea. His eyes rolled back into his head, and just as he began to pitch sideways Dean's nurse grabbed him before his head connected with the floor.
Staff poured into the room from the ICU department. They laid Sam out on the floor while Sue, Dean's nurse began assessing Sam's vitals just as an ICU doctor pushed his way in to examine Sam. "His pulse is weak," Sue commented. "He was an AMA from the ER a few hours ago. Severe concussion." Sue pointed out. The doctor proceeded to pull out a pen light to examine Sam's pupils. "Jesus," the doctor said under his breath. "Kids these days think they're immortal or something. Get his file from the ER, and have it waiting in the MRI for me.
"What's happening?" Dean shouted.
"You need to stay calm Dean," Sue urged from her place beside Sam. "You need to keep your blood pressure down."
"Screw my blood pressure!" He yelled. "What's wrong with him?"
The doctor opened Sam's first eye, "sluggish response on the right," he commented. "Get a back board in here now. We need to get him to a trauma room." He opened Sam's other eye. "Dammit, his left pupil is blown. Call MRI we have a stat case coming down. Get a damn pulse ox on this kid. He's looking hypoxic. Bag him." He put a stethoscope on Sam's now exposed chest as his t-shirt had been cut off of him. "Diminished respiratory effort." Dean watched a technician place a mask over his brother's face and begin squeezing a bag. There was a flurry of activity as a heart monitor was attached to Sam, and was rolled onto to his side and a board placed under him. Then he watched him picked up and placed on a gurney. The doctor peeled a swab out of a sterile wrapper, and opened Sam's mouth. "No gag reflex. We got to intubate this kid before he gets to MRI."
Dean watched in horror as he saw a metal device placed into his brothers mouth as his head was arched back and he saw the doctor thread a tube down his little brothers throat and attach it to a bag that another nurse began squeezing to help Sam get oxygen.
"Somebody tell me what's happening!" Dean yelled. He was being ignored.
"Sonofabitch," the doctor yelled. "Push a bicarb bolus. He's got a run of PVC's. This kid is going to code on us."
"Sammy!" Dean's voice could not mask the sheer desperation he was feeling. God, why did I say those things to him? I didn't mean a word of it Sammy, not one damn word. Come on, little brother jokes over, you win, okay? Dean's internal conversation ricocheted in his skull.
"Push an amp of epi. Okay, the bolus brought him into a workable rhythm. We got to get him to MRI, now! Clear the hallway and the elevator. Tell MRI to have the scan ready for a red line." And, before Dean could say one more word he watched them literally run with the gurney Sam was on and head for the elevator.
"Sam!" He called out to the all ready out of sight gurney.
To Be Continued in Chapter Two.
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