Hey guys! You have no idea, well some of you do, how long this bad boy's been in the making! The idea's been bouncing around since last summer and I started it in November! It's very nearly complete so I decided it's finally time to put it out there.
#1: SUGGESTIONS: Like I said, this one is almost completely written, so as far as suggestions go, feel free to leave them, it's interesting to see what you think, but it's unlikely I'll go back and add them unless I think it will really benefit the story line. Not trying to be rude, but this caused problems on my last big story, so I want to clear that up now.
#2 FLAMES: They will be promplty used to fuel my fireplace so I can warm my toes up.
#3 DISCLAIMER: No. End of story. Also, each chapter title and the story title are Green Day songs. I love Green Day, but sadly don't own them either.
There are a few others, but I'll let them wait until the next chapter.
Length: 750, but most will be at least 2,000.
Next Post: Probably towards the end of next week
Beta: Little Miss Artist (Thanks!)
WARNINGS: Pretty much only drug abuse, not minor, but not major. (This will be further explained next chap)
"Does the pain weigh out the pride?
And you look for a place to hide?
Did someone break your heart inside?
You're in ruins"
The blip of the heart monitor was the only sound to be heard in the small, white room. Dean, fast asleep in the uncomfortable chair, had faint stubble along his jaw which rested in his upturned palm, elbow on his thigh.
In the bed was a taller, albeit younger man, known as Sam Winchester, Samuel to his father in a pissed-as-hell moment, and Sammy to his brother (and brother only.) His sleep, perhaps unconsciousness, was restless and he groaned every now and then, the pain reaching him even there.
Dean blinked a couple times as he came to. It was darker than when he'd fallen asleep, the blinds were drawn and the lights dimmed. Sam moaned and rolled his head.
"Shh, Sam," Dean soothed, gently rubbing the back of his brother's hand, the one without the IV line. Dark lashes fluttered for a moment, before his eyes flicked open and his green eyes became visible.
"Ugh, Dean, hurts," he moaned, scrunching up his nose.
"Yeah, buddy, that's what happens when you decided to play doggie chew toy."
"What?" Both men turned to see a young, female doctor standing in the doorway, her face the picture of confusion. "Doggie chew toy?"
"Just an old joke," Dean said quickly.
"But, Sam said this was a bear attack?" There wasn't really suspicion in her voice – in honesty, Dean thought she'd long ago figured out they had lied about their story – but light amusement, as if reminding them what their alibi was.
There was an awkward moment of silence, before she gave a small shake of her head and entered.
"So, Sam, how are you feeling?"
"He's in pain," Dean was quick to say.
"As much as I know you don't want to hear it, there's really not much I can do about that unless you've changed your mind…" she trailed off almost hopefully.
"No," Sam said, his voice gruff from lack of use, "no opiates, or other narcotics for that matter."
"But, Sam," Dean started, he hated seeing Sam in so much pain, it sounded too much like the moans and whimpers of pain from when Sam had first been ambushed by the black dog on the hunt only two days ago.
"No, Dean," Sam hissed back, "I'm 24, dude, I think I can make my own medical decisions."
"Yes, because you have such great history in that department, Mr. I'm-Fine."
"Um, excuse me?" the doctor said, clearing her throat. "So, that's a no, then? No narcotics? Because diclofenac is the strongest non-opiate, pain relieving drug we have and that's what you're getting now. We could give you a very mild narcotic…"
"But-" both the doctor and Dean started at the same time.
"No, and that's final. Doctor, when do you think I'll be released?"
The young woman looked a little flustered with the quick change in direction of the conversation and for a second she just stammered as she looked between the clipboard in her hand and the boys in front of her. "Oh, um…maybe, uh…the day after tomorrow, Friday at the latest."
"Thank you," Sam said, clearly dismissing her. She stammered for a minute or two before nodding and exiting, shooting looks over her shoulder.
"Dude, she was hot, you so could have had her. I mean, did you see the way she was looking at you?"
Sam just rolled his eyes and reached for the TV remote, wincing slightly at the tug on his stitches. Dean's hand stopped his before he could grab the device and Sam looked up to meet the worried eyes of his big brother.
"Dean, you know I can't."
"It wouldn't be like last time, we'd be really careful and we could-"
"No, I'm not willing to risk it. I can't make you understand so please, just go with me on this, okay? This is what I want, this is what I need to do." Dean could see, by the strain on his face, that this was more than just a risk to Sam, this was about proving something to himself.
As Sam settled against the pillows and lost himself in the boring day-time television. He could feel Dean's gaze on him and knew what he was thinking about. What they were both thinking about…that day…so long ago…The day that had caused – and was still causing – both brothers so much misery.
So? Good? Bad? Please, please review, it assures me there's interest in the story! Until next time...