Where We Find God
By: Ridley
Chapter 10
“You’re not going to kill me?”
“I
guess that’s up to you.” Dean eased himself off of Jeff, wrapping his
fist in the teen’s shirt and pulling him off the bed. “We’re going for
a little drive.”
Jeff’s face paled a shade whiter than it had been. “Wh...where?”
“To visit a sick friend.” Dean turned and scooped the fancy laptop off of the desk, tucking it under his arm, keeping the knife trained on Jeff. “Don’t want to forget to take a gift.” Dean glanced at the computer. “Sammy will just love this.”
SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNNSNSNSNSNSNSNNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN
Dean didn’t let go of the grip he had on Wilkerson’s arm until they made it to the hospital entrance. “Remember what I said, Jeff. There’s no where I can’t find you.”
“I understand,” Jeff said softly, as they stepped over the threshold.
Marty Collins was the first to see them. “Dean?” He looked at the other boy, amazed he was in one piece and not yet again in need of medical attention. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Sam’s awake.” Dean nodded to Jeff. “Wilkerson and I came to say hi.”
Marty regarded Jeff. “That true?” By this time Officer Billy Metz had spotted the three men and was jogging over.
“What the hell is going on here?” Metz rounded on Dean. “You are under arrest, mister.”
“I thought we already established that, Barn?”
“Dean,” Marty sighed. “Don’t make things worse.”
“We’ve been searching the premises for the last two hours. I had to call the Sheriff.” Billy pulled his hand cuffs out. “This time I won’t let you out of my sight.”
“There’s no need for those, Metz.” It was Jeff who spoke up. “I’m not pressing charges against Dean.”
“What? Why the hell not?”
“It was all a misunderstanding.” Jeff glanced at Dean, and licked his lips nervously. “Winchester was pissed because I played a trick on his brother.”
“What kind of trick?” Marty asked.
“Stay out of this, Collins,” Metz snarled. “If someone needs a tow I’ll let you know.” Billy turned back to Marty. “What kind of trick?”
Jeff hesitated, but all Dean had to do was clear his throat. “I doctored his drink. Fucked him up. Sam didn’t know what he was drinking.”
“I see,” Billy looked uncertain. “Have you talked to your father about this?”
“The boy is making a statement, Metz. I didn’t hear him ask for no lawyer, and you haven’t even read him his rights.”
“I wave my rights.”
“You can’t do that, son. You’re a minor.”
Wilkerson rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you, I was drinking. Sam wasn’t. We put him in my car after he passed out.” Again Jeff looked at Dean. “Winchester was just making a point.”
“He was trying to kill you,” Metz interjected.
“You heard the boy, Billy. It was a misunderstanding.” Marty looked at Dean. “One that Dean was trying to rectify by leaving here and returning with Mr. Wilkerson.”
“He escaped custody.”
“That’s kind of a mute point seeing as how there are no charges against him now.”
“The D.A. might not see it that way.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jeff said. “I won’t testify against Winchester.”
Billy sighed, glancing at Dean. “Don’t leave town. This isn’t a closed case.”
“I’m not going anywhere as long as my brother’s here,” Dean said, then focused on Marty. “Are we finished?”
Marty nodded. “I think I can explain your side of things to the sheriff.” The tow truck driver cut his eyes to Metz. “Billy might leave something important out.”
Dean nodded his appreciation and then started for the elevators. As he was walking away he heard Metz start to read Wilkerson his rights. It was a beginning, if nothing else.
Sam was beginning to panic. Nothing was coming back to him. Not a single thing, besides the horrific flashes of a car crash. It was all a blur, and no one seemed interested in helping him to understand.
The doctor and nurses kept poking and prodding him, checking their readings against printouts on the computer, and his father continued to stare at him as if he wasn’t quite sure Sam was truly Sam. He was beginning to wonder if the whole experience of talking with Dean on the phone hadn’t been just another flash of memory, when his brother burst breathlessly through the door.
“Sammy?”
“Dean?” Sam breathed, trying to see around the doctor, who was once again leaned over him, checking the large bandage across his forehead.
Dean glanced at their father, tossed his things on the chair next to Sam's bed and went instantly to his brother’s side. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Don’t you know comas are for girls?”
Sam smiled, weakly, but the sentiment of it was belied by the instant welling of tears. They escaped, flowing freely down his cheek, even gathering at the corners of his swollen, damaged eye. “Dean? What’s…going on? Where were you?”
“Hey,” Dean stepped closer, his grin instantly disappearing. He laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder, glanced questioningly up at his father. “Take it easy. I‘m here now.”
“What…happened?” Sam forced out the words, using his good arm to shove weakly at Dr. Daniels, who moved, but gave the older brother a look.
“How about we leave you alone with your family for a moment?” The physician glanced at his staff and then down to his patient. “Sam, we’re going to have to take you upstairs for tests in a few moments. Do you understand?”
Sam didn’t look at him. That much he got. He wasn’t stupid or deaf, after all. All Sam wanted to know was how he had ended up in the hospital in the first place.
When the boy didn’t reply, Daniels focused on Dean. “He doesn’t remember much, but that's typical, especially considering the contributing circumstances. Maybe you could feel in the blank spots for him.”
Dean swallowed hard, but nodded. “Is that okay?”
“Just try to keep him calm. I think he’ll be fine now that he knows that you’re okay. Emerging from a coma, even a light one, can leave a person feeling rather out of sorts and emotionally charged.”
The young hunter raised an eyebrow. “You been giving the doctors and lovely nurses, trouble, bro?”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Daniels smiled, reassuringly. “He’s quite a hit with the staff. At least with those who had bets on him waking up.”
Sam shot a look to the physician, that spoke to his disapproval of the humor. “Okay, then.” Daniels patted Sam’s leg. “I’ll be expecting you in Radiology in a few.”
John watched the staff leave before making his way over to his sons. “You take care of the situation with Metz?”
“It’s good.” Dean looked back down at his brother. “I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Thanks to your friend, Wilkerson.”
Sam's brow furrowed. “Wilkerson?”
The older boy could tell his brother was struggling to recall the name. “Big, Neanderthal-looking jock.”
“From school.”
“Yeah.” Dean glanced at their dad then back to his brother. “Do you remember going to a party with him, Sammy?”
“No.”
“You and your friend, Jake?” Dean tried to prod the memory along.
His little brother swallowed hard. “Jake?”
“You guys were at the beach.”
“How…”
“Wilkerson was drunk, Sam,” John said with a sigh, and his oldest son glared at him.
"Dad..."
The eldest Winchester ignored Dean's warning tone and pushed on. “He wrecked. You, your friend Jake, and another boy were all with him.”
“I…don’t understand. I wouldn’t have got in a car with Jeff if…”
“You were messed up, too.”
Dean didn't protest his father's blunt tactics this time but his grip tightened on his brother's shoulder, as he prepared to pick up the pieces, just like always.
“I…don’t...” Sam shook his head, wincing, before turning pleading eyes to his protector. “Dean? You know that I’d never…”
“Hey,” Dean moved his hand to Sam’s forehead, hoping to erase the lines of pain. “Just take it easy, okay. We know you didn’t do it on purpose. Wilkerson drugged you, Sam. He doctored your drink. None of this is your fault.”
Then the word the older brother had been dreading. “Why? Why would Jeff do something like that?"
“I don’t know, kiddo. He’s an ass.” Dean’s voice hardened. “But he’s not going to get away with it. I can promise you that.”
“Was…anyone else hurt?” Another dreaded question. One with an answer, but not the one Sam would find comfort in.
John and Dean shared another look, and apparently that was the only reply Sam needed. The flashes of memory were back, as if someone had tossed a handful of confetti into the air around him, the pieces falling into place in no particular order.
“Sam?” Dean reacted to the soft whimper and Sam’s twisted grimace of pain. “Sammy?”
“Jake?” Sam finally opened his eyes looked at his brother. “It was Jake…in the car with me… not you. You weren't there.”
“I’m sorry,” Dean offered, not knowing what else to say. He’d only met Jake a couple of times, hadn’t trusted him as far as he could throw him, but he’d been decent to Sammy. And Sam didn’t have a wealth of friends to choose from. “He didn’t make it, little brother.”
“Oh God,” Sam said, as another memory hit him. The teen closed his eyes as Jake’s body, impaled by limbs, bloody and lifeless, made an appearance in his field of vision. “I…was trapped in the car with him.” Jake's eyes had been open and staring and Sam hadn’t been able to avoid that gaze. The smell of blood overpowering. Death had swooped down upon them, lighted between them in the car. And Sam had faced it. Alone. “You…you should have been there.”
The words hit Dean like a hard and dirty sucker punch. “Sammy…”
“I needed you,” Sam’s voice was raw with emotion, as he choked back tears. “Where…were you?” The question was more accusation than inquiry, and its barbed aim was lethal. "This is all your fault. You're the one who told me I needed to go out more. To make friends. Well...look where that got me. Look where it got Jake."
“Sam,” John put his hand on his youngest son's shoulder. “Your brother and I got here as fast as we could.”
“Not fast enough,” Sam bit out. He glared at Dean. “Leave me alone.”
Dean went down like he had a glass jaw. “But…Sam?”
“Get out! I…don’t want you here.”
Dean removed his touch as if he'd been burned, backed away from the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, before turning and leaving the room.
John watched his oldest son go, feeling torn as to what he should do. The fact that he wouldn't know what in the hell to say to Dean, cemented his decision to stay with Sam. “You want to tell me what that was about?”
“I…don’t want you here either.” Sam glared at the other man, without the same effect.
John was use to being the target of his youngest son's anger. “Then I guess it’s a good thing you can’t rip my heart out and stomp on it, because I‘m not going anywhere.”
The teen looked up at him, but stayed quiet. “You know when you were a little boy, Sammy, you’d run to your brother for everything. Broken toys, scraped knees, bruises, bad dreams, bullies-whatever it was-you took it to your brother to fix.”
The boy glanced at the blanket covering him, picking at the fabric with his cast-free hand.
“He’d move the earth to make you happy-then and now.” John sighed, raked a hand through his hair. “And that’s my fault in part. And I can understand now that I didn’t do either of you a service by fostering that ridiculous belief that you have that he could and maybe should move the earth to make you happy.”
More tears flooded Sam’s eyes, and John felt bad for hurting his son, who had just woken up from a coma for Christ‘s sake. But sometimes cruelty was the kindest gesture. “And I don't think I helped Dean when I let him prove you right over and over again, bolstering the belief he'll always be able to be there-like some fairytale, fire-breathing sentry.”
“I was so scared,” the words were whispered, and the older Winchester barely heard them through the sob they were carried on. “I needed him. I...didn’t... want to die alone.”
“Sam, your brother was scared, too. Of you dying, of losing you,” John shook his head, “But more than anything, of failing you.”
Sam looked up sharply. “He didn’t fail me.”
“Son, you just told him that he did.”
Sam took a painful breath and let it out slowly. “I…I don’t know why I said that.” And he didn’t.
He was just so angry and confused, and Dean seemed to know what to say or do to make it all better. Dean had saved him from evil spirits, and blood thirsty raw heads, werewolves and wendigos. He'd tried to perform miracles on rabbits and fought bastard humans on his behalf. Dean always saved him. But there was nothing his older brother could do to change the car wreck, to erase the hours that Sam had been hurt and alone. Nor could he bring Jake back. Sam just wanted it all to go away. For it all to a bad dream Captain One Helluva Big Brother could hold at bay with his magic forcefield.
Maybe he did want Dean to do the impossible.
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“Maybe you should tell your brother that.”
The door opened and both men looked up expectantly, each silently hoping that it would be Dean. Instead, it was Marty.
"Glad to see you awake there, Sam."
The teen wiped at his eyes and gave the tow truck driver a weak nod.
"I just wanted to stop in and tell Dean that Wilkerson is being taken down town as we speak." He glanced from John to Sam. "Where is he by the way? I thought it would take nothing short of dynamite to get him out of this room."
"He just stepped out for some air," John explained. "It's been a long night."
"I'm sure. First he nearly kills Wilkerson, gets himself arrested, escapes, and then he persuades Jeff to turn himself in and to confess." He smiled at Sam. "You've got yourself a one man militia there, son."
Before the teenager could reply a nurse and two orderlies entered the room with a gurney.
One of the many monitors picked up Sam’s change in breathing and heart rate. “Dad, I…don’t want to go with them.”
“They’re just going to take you down for some tests, kiddo. It’ll be okay.”
"I better get out of the way, John," Marty jutted his chin towards the door. "I'll call you later to see how things are going."
"Thanks, Marty," John nodded. He had his hands too full to say much more.
“No,” Sam struggled to raise himself up. “I have…to talk to Dean, Dad. I need to explain...about before.”
“They’ll be time for that later.” The oldest Winchester laid a restraining hand on his son’s chest.
“We’re suppose to take you up to radiology for a CAT scan and a MRI, Mr. Winchester.” A nurse had entered the room now, and she smiled at Sam. “You’ll be back down before you know it.”
“No!” Sam said again, louder than before, knowing he was pushing his luck both with the staff and his father.
One of the orderlies sighed, and glanced at his partner. “One of the drunk kids from that accident,” he muttered, under his breath. “Guess he doesn’t realize how lucky he is we aren’t rolling his spoiled ass to the morgue.”
“What’d you say?” John glanced up from his distraught son to see Dean enter the room again. He was standing closely behind the orderlies, a murderous gleam in his green eyes.
The dark-haired tech whirled around, and looked abashedly at the young man now standing in his personal space. “Sorry…man, I didn’t know you were back there.”
“I guess not.”
“Dean,” John said, quietly. “Let it go.” Whatever it was that Dean had heard wasn’t worth more trouble. Everyone's nerves were frayed. He and Dean were walking on egg shells as sharp and fragile as shattered porcelain. They’d had more than their share of controversy over the last two days.
The twenty-one-year-old reluctantly backed down, but continued to glare at the techs. "My little brother just woke up from a coma. What's your excuse?"
“Larry," the nurse spoke up, "why don’t you and Sandy come back in a few moments.” She flashed John and Sam an apologetic look. "I'm sure the tests can wait a few more minutes."
"Thank you," John nodded, as she left them alone.
“Dean..." Sam spoke quietly.
"Don't worry, little brother. I just forgot my keys." He nodded to the chair he'd tossed them on. "I'm going."
“No!” Sam’s good hand shot out, catching his brother's sleeve. “Don’t go.”
Dean looked slightly amused, and a little angry. “Dude, first you want me here, then you don't , then you do. I'm not a yo-yo you can jerk around."
“I know. I’m sorry.” Sam released his brother, reaching up to rub his aching head. “I...just didn’t know if you’d come back.”
The older boy sighed. "I'll aways come back, Sam." He shook his head. "Believe me of all the shit I've put up with from you, a little post coma PMS isn't going to push me over the edge. I made it through diapers, teething, and puberty, after all."
"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it-none of it." The seventeen-year-old hesitated. "I just wanted you there. Not in the wreck," He looked up, quickly clarifying. Just the thought of his brother being in the accident struck a chord of fear deep inside. "Just...with me."
"Sammy..." Dean started, but his little brother interrupted him.
"I guess I thought you could save both me and Jake. Like always."
The blond stepped to the bed once more, reclaimed his position by his brother's side. "Believe me, little brother. I wish I could have been there. It may take me a while, but I'll make things right. In the end, I'll be there, bro. Always."
Sam held his brother's gaze for a moment, before finally nodding, accepting the words for what the were. A brother's promise-an oath. The same promise that had been made to him seventeen years before. "Marty was saying that you almost killed Wilkerson, then you escaped custody?" Sam raised a brow. "That you convinced Jeff to turn himself in--What's that all about?"
"All part of my master plan," Dean replied with a grin, more than glad for the change of subject.
John snorted in disbelief. "If you two are finished with this soapy scene, I'll tell the nurse she can come back in now."
The boys ignored him. "Don't worry about the details, Sam. The bad guys go to jail and the good guys live to tell the tale." Dean winced at his own words. "Well...except for Jake."
The teen swallowed thickly, realizing that Jake would never be around to see the end of the story. "So you'll tell me later?" He asked hoarsely.
"Sure, kiddo." Dean shrugged. "Someday." When the town was far behind them, and Wilkerson was locked away. When I know it won't hurt you. "When you grow up, that is."
A faint smile, and a hint of dimple appeared as Sam rolled his one uninjured eye. "Jerk," he sighed.
"Bitch," Dean grinned.
Their father returned with two very contrite looking orderlies, and Sam tensed, not liking the idea of being seperated from his family for even a small amount of time. "Will you stay with me?" The teen reached out his hand, knew he probably sounded all of five. But at the moment, he felt like a terrified child.
The older boy caught his arm, wrapped his fingers around the warm skin. He glanced up at the techs, and then smirked at his brother. "Let's see them try to stop me."
Sam nodded. "Thank's, Dean. For everything. "
"You ain't seen nothing, yet." His brother winked at him. "Wait to
see the high tech, crazy expensive, get-well present I
brought you."