Nothing More To Say by Youthere
All the standard disclaimers apply. This does get kinda violent, and when is the language ever pretty?
Thanks to Bulletbabe over at supernaturalville, who beta'd this for me. All remaining screw ups are mine alone.
"Mister Hunter?" Dean grumbled as he climbed a brightly lit, carpeted staircase, a few steps ahead of his brother. "Mister Hunter?"
"Sorry, I couldn't think of anything." Came a defensive mumble from Sam.
"So you went with Hunter?! That's the worst alias we've ever had!"
"Well, it is the most accurate"
"Aliases aren't supposed to be accurate, they're supposed to be inconspicuous!"
"Oh really Mister Bonham? Inconspicuous?"
Dean cut off his brother's arguing with a restraining arm, stopping the younger hunter just before he stepped onto the top floor landing. "We clear on everything?"
Sam sighed "Yeah, apartment 403. Werewolf."
A string of mysterious 'animal attacks' had caught the Winchester's attention two days earlier. Based on the lunar cycle they had come to the conclusion they were hunting a werewolf and had tracked the creature to this small, neat apartment building on the outskirts of town. It wasn't a very challenging hunt; the biggest problem had been getting past the doorman.
Dean shook his head again at the name his brother had given the man and decided he would definitely do the talking himself next time.
"So," said brother whispered as they made their way to the correct apartment, "get in, put some silver in its heart, get out, pack. Should be simple."
"Dude!! Jinx much?!" Dean hissed back as he aimed a good kick at the lock, "Don't say the S word!"
And, in fact, life didn't disappoint by being easy. They burst into the small, cozy apartment to find that their werewolf was actually three skin walkers, a male and two females.These were their favorite type too, the kind that had the ability to transform partially into animals; leaving them as intelligent and capable as humans but with the added bonus of fangs, claws and animal strength. In the ensuing fight, Sam's gun got knocked out of his hand, skidding across the floor under a couch, and he found himself unarmed and facing two very pissed off half-animals. He wondered sullenly if, at the moment he said 'simple', the werewolf had suddenly morphed into a skin walker, which had then split itself into three equally lethal creatures. Considering their lives, it actually didn't sound too crazy.
The younger Winchester dodged a swing from a freaky hybrid of hand and paw. He could only see one skin walker, a female. That meant the male was either coming up behind him or going after his brother. In the chaos of this unexpected fight he'd quite lost sight of Dean. And the thought of his brother facing two skin walkers with no backup was proving scarier than the creature currently growling at him. Dodging yet another blow, he pivoted around taking in the rest of the room, trying to get closer to the couch that concealed his gun.
He spotted the lost skin-walker a second too late as he barreled in from his blind spot, knocking him off balance with a vicious kick to the gut. Forced to roll away from the coveted gun as the female literally pounced on him, Sam caught a glimpse of Dean. He'd also lost his gun but was having more success working his way back to where Sam's was, fighting.
He got back to his feet but found he was cornered in the far end of the room, the skin walkers now taking their time. Composing themselves. He'd nowhere to run. As the female tensed to spring he was vaguely aware of the sound of scuffling from Dean's side of the room, then two gunshots and a thump. One down...
"Sam, drop!" He'd half expected the command and obeyed it instantly.
Unfortunately, so did the skin walker, who managed to dodge Dean's shot and turned to rush him before he could recover his aim. Sam followed, unwisely taking his eyes off the other one, and realized his mistake too late as she launched her attack.
He managed to deflect her blow, landing a solid punch on her jaw and she reciprocated with unnatural swiftness, surprising him with a right hook of her own. Once he was off balance, she hooked her leg behind his ankle and swooped the feet from under him, landing him flat on his back on the floor. But her triumphant smirk turned curiously lifeless as a shot rang out, and her body crumbled, slumping to the floor in an undignified heap.
She landed on top of Sam, and although dazed, he managed to roll her off and look up, just in time too see the third creature take advantage of the distraction and make for the exit. Dean was in hot pursuit only a step behind but never made it out the door.
A swinging red blur and a sickening crunch of bones, and Sam was staring at his brother lying spread eagled just inside the door, out cold.
Sam leaned back in the plastic chair and squinted into the blinking fluorescent bulb right above his face.
A fucking fire extinguisher.
The creature must have picked it up in the hallway as she came through the door and swung right around with it, sending it full force into the face of her pursuer. Of course, the fact that Dean had been running headlong into the swing hadn't helped him any.
The doctor had accepted the younger Winchester's story of a mugger with a baseball bat without comment and he was hoping the man was too tired and too busy to realize that the weapon that inflicted his brother's injuries would have to have been much heavier than that.
Sam didn't think he could have quite sold a mugger with a fire extinguisher.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel the ghost imprint of the blinking light. It hovered purplish over a far too vivid image of Dean coming too on the floor; eyes cloudy, blood streaming from a split lip and a crooked set to his mouth that had nothing to do with his usual half smirk.
The image was stark and clear and made a strange contrast to the rest of the images in his head, which were jumbled and incoherent. He had foggy impressions of blood and vomit and ... oh god... teeth on the floor? And his brother moaning, mumbling and... shit... crying?
Sam leaned his elbows on his knees, wincing slightly as the motion jarred some ribs he was pretty sure were bruised. His own injuries from the fight were starting to let themselves be known and his muscles ached with every movement.
It didn't ache half as bad as the knowledge of his failure, though.
How the hell could he have let this happen? How could he even consider rushing in like that, with not enough info and no back up plan? Rushed and careless was how he'd worked this job, as if it didn't really matter. What, creatures were the least of their problems, so now they'd stopped being dangerous?! Stupid!!
Shit, as if Dean wasn't reckless enough these days without Sam following his example. It had to be Sam now, who kept his brother alive, no matter what. And he'd screwed up royally tonight, Dean could have... He didn't even let himself finish the thought.
Uh uh, not happening. Not ever. No more screwing up.
He forced himself to sit up again, fixing all his attention on the light blinking off the grey green wall in front of him. Grey green with a splash of red: a fire extinguisher screwed into the waiting room wall.
Sam gave it a long murderous glare and, oddly, felt a little better.
When the Winchesters came into town they had, at Sam's insistence, located a small, busy and under-funded clinic in a bad neighborhood. The doctors at places like these were less likely to call the cops, or at least did so later, leaving more time to get treatment for possible injuries and make an escape.
Looking up at Dean's doctor now, the man did certainly look hassled and Sam found himself wishing he'd put his brother in the hands of a doctor with a slightly smaller workload and a slightly larger paycheck. He probably could have gotten away with it too; Dean and Samuel Cooke had pretty good insurance. Being fugitives sucked.
"So, you're sure the head injury isn't serious? I mean, it looked pretty bad." He asked the doctor.
"Mister Cooke, a head trauma is never something to take lightly. But we aren't seeing any signs of cerebral bleeding or other serious damage to the brain, and your brother has remained conscious and more or less coherent. He has a concussion and it will probably take some days to recover from it, but he doesn't seem to be in any danger. Of course we want to keep him overnight and monitor him, but I don't think there's cause for concern."
Sam couldn't help thinking that, the way things were gong these days, mere concern would be a nice break.
He realized the doctor was still talking and mentally scolded himself, pulling his attention back to the man's words.
"... is pretty badly broken and a few teeth were either knocked loose or shifted. I would recommend he see an orthodontist once the wires come off"
Sam just looked blank and the doctor seemed to realize the young man was missing a piece of the conversation.
"We had to wire your brother's jaw shut to be sure that it heals correctly, it's broken." He repeated himself patiently, quite used to dealing with people who were not having the best day. "The wires should keep the jaw immobilized and let the break seal itself in peace."
Sam just stared at the man. "Wire it shut? His jaw?"
The doctor nodded.
"How long's he got to stay like that?"
"Well, it's hard to say. We'll have to see how the bone heals up, but I'd say at least six weeks, maybe two months."
"Two months?" Sam could hardly believe what he was hearing. Two months of essentially being mute?
Oh yeah, Dean was gonna just love that.
Actually, Dean did look pretty ready to love. And share and blossom, and glide out the window in a cloud of rainbows .
Sam scrutinized his face. "So... I see they gave you something for the pain..."
Dean just gave a goofy grin, making his younger brother wince as he pulled on some stitches in his lip, and went to answer in the very affirmative. It was a full minute before he realized he couldn't get his mouth to open, and his face took on a puzzled expression. He wrinkled his brows and tried to fix Sam with a questioning stare. It would have worked better if he had been able to actually focus his eyes.
Sam sat down on the bed and leaned into his brother's field of vision.
"Dean, listen, you broke your jaw... Dean? Hey I'm over here"
As Deans eyes found him, more or less, Sam started over.
"You broke your jaw and the doctors had to set it with wires to let it heal properly."
Dean made another attempt at speaking and Sam figured his brother was in no condition to decipher the gentle approach.
"Dean. Listen. You can't open your mouth. It's wired shut."
This seemed to sink in and Sam found himself looking down at a rabidly sobering big brother.
"Hey, it's okay. It just needs to be set while it heals. And otherwise you're fine. A concussion and that's it, no big deal." Deciding to take the Pollyanna approach, Sam gave a nervous smile.
"I mean if you think about it, it could have been worse."
Dean sent his brother a dark look, that told him quite clearly just what would await Pollyanna if she ever decided to drop by again, and Sam sighed.
Uh huh, loving this...
AN I've had a love-hate relationship with this story for what seems like ages now, do tell me what you make of it :)