By: Oldach's Dream
Summary: Completely pointless fluff after Dean suffers a minor head injury. Oneshot.
Disclaimer: Still don't own them. Or rent them. Or have them on lease. I just sneak into Eric Kripke's house and play with them when he's not home.
A/N: My computer went bye-bye for a month when my hard drive randomly crashed and self-destructed - who knew they could do that? I just got it back and I've been going through all my various folders and documents. I found this, and it was completely written, so I decided to post it. Thoughts would be welcome.
Timeline: Like I said, this was written quite a while ago, so… mid-Season One.
Cracked and Cured
"You're sure he's going to be alright?" Sam asked again.
"Yes!" Only the exasperated answer came from Dean, not the doctor in the room. "For the freaking millionth time, I'm gonna be fine. Chill out."
"You fracture your skull and you tell me to chill out?" Sam asked, astounded.
"Hairline fracture Sammy." Dean reminded him. "One night of observation, and I'm good to go.
"If," This time it was the female doctor speaking. "You take it easy for a while, go to the hospital at the slightest sign of a dizzy spell, and take the pills we give you until they're gone. Then you'll be good to go."
"Like the Taco Bell commercial." Dean smirked nodding to himself, but the other two occupants of the tiny hospital room looked at him oddly. "What?!" He exclaimed.
"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" The nice doctor asked. "Maybe we should do another CT scan, just in case."
Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Sam beat him to it.
"No," he insisted, smirking slightly. "That's just my brother."
"Well, if you're sure." The doctor said, and then she turned to Sam. "Actually Mr. Wilks, if I could speak to you in the hall for a moment...?"
She let the sentence run off into a question, and gestured towards the door. Sam shot a concerned, questioning look at Dean.
"Go," he shoed his brother away. "Have your secret little meeting. It's 'cause I didn't go to college isn't it? Only you college grads get to have the cool meetings out in the hallway."
Sam couldn't tell if Dean was being obnoxious because he was annoyed at having to stay in the hospital overnight, if he was tired and jacked up on pain killers, or if he was just trying to piss Sam off.
"No." Sam answered simply. "It's because you're the one who fell down the stairs and got a concussion."
Dean at least had the curiosity to wait until the doctor's back was turned before flicking his brother off. Sam just grinned cheekily before turning to follow her out into the hallway. She shut the door to Dean's hospital room firmly behind her and Sam had a feeling that this would irritate Dean even more.
"Is he always like that?" She wasted no time in asking.
"Always like what, Dr..., I'm sorry, I forgot your name." Sam grinned sheepishly.
"You can call me Erin." She said with a surprisingly warm smile. One that reminded Sam slightly of Jessica. "And what I mean to say is that; is your brother acting any differently than he normally does? With an injury like this, we always like to cover all our bases. Personality changes can be a sign of more serious damage."
"But I thought you said there wasn't," Sam crossed his arms in that way he did when he was nervous, and leaned back slightly, away from the bad news he might receive. "Any serious damage, I mean."
"Not that our tests can tell." She confirmed. "But there's always a small chance that something didn't show up. It's unlikely, but as I said, I just want to make sure all the bases are covered."
"Okay." Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. That's good. I don't know what I'd do if..." Sam shook his head. He hadn't meant to say that. Erin's eyes, however, were questioning, so he finished his thought as best he could. "Dean's the only real family I have left. I don't what I'd do if something happened to him."
Erin smiled. "Well Mr. Wilks, I don't think you have anything to worry about. That is, unless you've noticed any changes?"
"Call me Sam." He hated the formalization of names, especially when they were names that they were stealing. "And no, that's just Dean being Dean. He's a little more snippy than usual, but he gets that way when he doesn't have enough coffee, too. So I'm not surprised he's acting like this now. He doesn't really like hospitals. Or not having a choice in where he spends the night. Or being away from his car."
Erin laughed at Sam's ramblings; it was obvious to her, as it would be to anyone who could hear Sam, that he cared about his brother very much.
"That's another thing I wanted to discuss with you." She said. "You said you two were on a road trip, right?"
"Yeah." Sam confirmed. "Just some brotherly bonding."
There was something in the way he said it that made it sound like there a hidden layer behind the words. Something that no one except Sam and Dean could understand. She smiled at it.
"Well, if at all possible, it'd be a good idea to settle down somewhere for at least a few days after he gets released tomorrow. The drugs he'll be taking will make him groggy, so under no circumstance can he drive."
"Oh, man!" Sam exclaimed laughing. "Can't wait until he hears that news!"
Erin smiled as well. "That's it, I suppose. No driving for at least a week. Make sure he takes that medicine. If he's dizzy at all, get him to a doctor immediately. Take note of any major, or even slight, personality changes."
As she ticked off the list, Sam nodded. "Alright. I got it. So, he'll be okay?" The anxiousness was still present in the younger brother's voice and Erin smiled.
"He'll be fine." She assured him again.
"Okay, good." He shuffled his feet. "You know, he's probably not gonna go to sleep until I go back in there, so..."
She nodded. "Go see your brother. I'll be around if you need me. Or, if you have to, the little white button on the hospital bed buzzes a nurse."
Sam smiled gratefully, before hurrying back to re-enter Dean's room.
"So?" He asked immediately from his sitting position on the bed. "What is it? Am I dying?"
"No." Sam said with a straight face. "But you might."
Dean gave him a look somewhere in between questioning and doubtful.
"I have to drive for a week."
"Doctor's orders." Sam smirked.
"Find a different doctor, cause there's no way in hell you're driving for a week."
"Actually, she said it'd be better if we didn't go anywhere for a week." Sam was still considering this as an option.
Dean wasn't. "Sam! We can't! We have ghosts to hunt and evil things to kill. There's people all over this country that need our help! Are you suggesting we ignore them?"
Sam would have found this little speech very moving, if Dean hadn't sounded so desperate. It was like he was pleading with Sam, and he sounded slightly hysterical. The drugs, Sam realized, were defiantly taking a toll on Dean's mental state.
"In fact," he went on. "I bet there's supernatural problems all over the world that need seeing to. Why do we only stay in the country? We should go to... France or London or something. Kill a ghost with a British accent!" His face lit up at the thought.
"You hate flying, remember?"
"We don't have to fly." He insisted.
"You wanna swim to Europe?" Sam said doubtfully. It was quite obvious at this point that Dean desperately needed to go to sleep, before he got even more incoherent.
His brother paused and considered it for a moment. "Okay, then we'll stick the U.S. But we still can't sit around for a week and do nothing."
"You have to Dean." Sam said.
"No I don't." Back to obnoxious, and Sam wanted to beat him with a pillow.
"Yeah, you do."
"'Cause I say so." Hey, if you can't beat 'em.
"You're not the boss of me. I'm older; I'm the boss of you." Dean actually stuck his tong out at him.
Sam couldn't help but laugh. He hoped to the God of modern Western medicine that Dean would not remember any of this come morning.
"I think its time to go beddy-bye." Sam said as if he were talking to...well, a really tired, annoyed Dean, he'd never speak to a little kid that patronizingly.
"I am so gonna kick your ass." He promised.
"Okay. If you remember any of this, you can try to kick my ass tomorrow." Sam promised. "Now will you go to sleep?"
Dean slouched down in his bed, turning his back to Sam and mumbled something about people telling him what to do and wanting his AC/DC tape.
"Sweet Dreams." Sam said softly.
A light snort that could have been either a suppressed laugh or a snore, then,
"Sure Dean." Sam said, still smiling as he settled into the chair next to his brother's hospital bed. "Whatever you say."
A/N: As I mentioned, pointless fluff. Did I make you think happy thoughts?