When You Are Confused
Summary: When you are confused, I will use little tiny words. A wayward ghost hunt and a concussed Sam can only make for one pissed-off big brother.
Timeline: Season Two.
Beta: None, all mistakes are my own
When You Are Confused
He lifted up his heavy head. He couldn't really make anything out through the intense spinning of the room. He shut his eyes, gagged, and felt the sting of warm bile in the back of his throat. He swallowed convulsively and sucked in a large gulp of air, opening his eyes once again. He'd hoped the room would settle, but it continued to seesaw around him.
A familiar voice whispered in the distance.
It relaxed him just a bit and he blinked slowly. Dean was putting an end to some ugly ghost or ghoul; he knew that much for sure.
About that time, a giant shockwave slammed against him.
Sam swayed from the impact. He peered though half mast eyelids at Dean, his big brother looking somewhat pleased with himself. Sam sighed and struggled to keep his body up on his weak and wobbly arms. His rubbery limbs didn't seem to want to cooperate anymore.
And the room was spinning faster.
"De...n..." he whimpered as he sagged forward toward the floor.
Sometimes Dean Winchester thought, Hell yeah! Hunts always got his blood pumping. Killing supernatural beings is always such a rush. He grinned smugly as he watched the Deodand disperse unhappily into the predawn morning night. Guess I showed your ass who was freaking boss.
Normally, he'd take a few seconds to enjoy this moment, savor his victory- wallow in it just a bit – but-
He glanced across at Sam.
He stepped quickly to his little brother's side and skidded down beside him.
Sam's head was wobbling loosely on his neck.
"Whoa…" Dean exclaimed anxiously. "Hey, hey, hey…"
His strong arms coiled around the pliant body.
Someone was saying his name.
His head felt thick, out of sorts, like it was stuffed with too much cotton.
The numbing darkness felt good though and he sank back into it.
The voice was familiar though…
He was…where am I?
He felt kind of anxious for a moment, like he needed to be doing something, but then, the thought flittered from his head, and he sank back into oblivion.
Dean sighed. It was time for Sammy to wake up. He was tired of setting in this uncomfortable excuse for a chair.
He leaned forward, flinching when his bandaged fingers brushed against the sheets. He bit his lower lip against the pain and eased his bum hand down to limply in his lap. With his good hand, he brushed the too long bangs away from the lax forehead and pulled the top blanket up beneath his brother's chin.
"You can wake up anytime Sam." He whispered. "It's time for you to come back to me." His voice quivered as he struggled to contain his emotion. "I know I've been an ass as of late, since Dad died and all." He tugged his good hand through his cropped hair and sighed. "I know I've been pushing too hard," his voice cracked. "I know, and I'm sorry Sammy, I'm so sorry."
Sam didn't flinch.
Warm tears welled up in blue-green eyes and were blinked hastily away. Keep it together, it's only been three days…he's gon'a wake up. He gripped Sam's hand inside his own, reassuring his baby brother that he was here, that he would always be here.
"Come on, Sammy, open your eyes." He said again.
Suddenly, a steaming hot cup of coffee appeared in front of Dean's face.
"Any change?" Bobby asked.
Dean released Sam's fingers and gazed sadly up at the senior hunters face. He curled his fingers around the steaming hot cup of brew.
Someone was humming Metallica and Sam focused on the sound.
Warm fingers petted at his wrist. It reassured him, tugged him forward from the fog. Dean? Is Dean humming? His brother really liked this song.
"Is he smiling?" A voice said curiously.
Sam drifted for a moment.
"Sam? Dean said anxiously. "Sammy?"
Sam heard snippets of the conversation, a gruff voice beside him said, "Man, I think he's waking up."
"-wake up, Sammy, plea-come on kiddo-"
Suddenly all sorts of sensations flooded Sam's brain as he tugged open his lead laden eyelids. It was too bright and a sharp pain slammed into his skull. He quickly shut his eyes.
"Bobby, get the light," Dean commanded. "Sammy! Sammy, open your eyes, come on, you can do it."
Sam rolled his head against the pillow, a weak attempt to get away. But the voice was unrelenting. "Sam, wake up now," it demanded.
There was no escape.
"Sam," Dean said, harder, gruffer, sounding a whole lot like their Dad.
Sam's head rolled on the pillow.
"Come on open your eyes up," Dean soothed, "Bobby turned the light off." He released a heavy sigh, "please Sammy…" he all but begged.
Sam knew he could never deny his older brother anything, especially when he sounded so distraught. Why's he sound like that? Anxiety pulled at him until finally he drug open his all too heavy lids.
Everything was blurry.
"Sammy…" Dean's voice cracked. Damn it, don't be a cry baby, he's awake now he's going to be fine. He glanced up at Bobby, whose own eyes were glistening too. It'd been a long damn week.
"Thank God," the senior hunter exhaled noisily happy to see the kid was waking up.
Sam blinked his eyes once, twice, three times, and finally Dean's face drifted into view. Man, he looks rough.
"Dean?" The word came out thick and croaky, like his voice hadn't been used in days. I need a drink of water. Before he could even ask though, a straw was pressed against his lips.
He giddily sucked the liquid down.
"Drink," Dean said as he helped his now awake little brother take a drink.
Sam did as he was told; the cool and the wet felt so good going down. He sputtered, gulping down the water with a vengeance.
Dean pulled the straw away, "hey, not too much bro."
Sam brow furrowed in confusion. Don't take it away.
"Take it easy Sammy." Dean soothed. He sat the cup back down on the table and patted his brother lightly on the chest. Warm teardrops welled up to his eyelids and he blinked to keep them under control. He's okay, he's okay.
Sam drifted for a while. Something patted his leg and he blinked open his bleary eyes. He glanced down toward his feet – and there was Bobby - a wide smile setting on his face. When did he get here?
"He's gon'a be fine Dean."
"Yeah, yeah….I know, it's just, I'm just…" Dean blew out a weary sigh and looked at their surrogate father. It'd been a rough hunt and an even rougher week.
"It's okay," Bobby said, "I'll go get the doctor, tell'em Sam's awake."
"Okay," Dean whispered in a worn out, tired tone.
Sam heard Bobby shuffle from the room. He tugged open his lead laden eyelids and yawned. He was so tired. He looked with sleepy eyes at Dean. Is he holding my hand?
His brother's eyes were closed.
Sam smiled, crushing his brother's fingers inside his own as he drifted off to sleep.