Where We Find God
By: Ridley
John Winchester had feared so many things while his sons were growing up. After Mary had been taken from him, fear had almost consumed his life. It was hard to be brave in the face of the unbelievable-the undeniable. But he had succeeded and although he was scared of many things most mortals only scoffed at, he had never been driven by the typical worries of most ordinary parents.
Until tonight. Until the phone call about Sam changed everything.
It seemed that not only could the supernatural rob him of those he loved-but every day evils of the world were hell bent on staking their claim also.
He chanced a glance at his oldest son to take his mind off the unfairness of it all. They had been on the road almost two hours and were close to reaching Morgana. Dean had yet to speak to him.
When Dean was quiet, it was worrying enough. The boy usually rambled on about nothing non stop when he was worried or hurt. Talking and joking about anything and everything seemed to give him the ability to ward off pain-both emotional and physical.
His brother was the opposite. Sam would clam up-a lot like his old man-choosing to suffer in stoic silence. John couldn’t help but to wonder how much his son was suffering now. He couldn’t stand to be alone with his thoughts in the quiet car any longer.
“Sam’s tough. You know that.” He forced a light laugh. “He’ll probably have all the nurses charmed before we get there. They’ll be fighting over who gets to take care of him. Like that time a few years back.”
Dean looked away from the window, no hint of amusement on his face. It was like a quick punch to John’s gut.
There was unmistakable traces of unshed tears in his son’s green eyes-eyes so much like Mary’s. Dean never cried.
It stole his breath.
“He’s hurt. He’s alone.” And it’s all my fault.
“It’s not your fault, Ace.” John swallowed hard, fighting the stinging in his own eyes.
The oldest Winchester knew exactly what Dean was thinking and he felt a tiny stab of guilt, as he shoved his emotions away. Maybe he was a walking contradiction, because when he’d found out about Wilkerson, he’d felt an instant anger that Dean hadn’t paid closer attention to who his brother had become friends with. God, what would Mary think of him?
He tried to imagine what his wife would say at a time like this. “It was an accident. No one’s to blame.” It sounded so hollow even to him.
Dean must have agreed because he shook his head in disbelief. “Oh,someone’s to blame.” His deep voice grew hard, the way it did when Dean was determined to kill something. Or in this case-someone. “Jeff Wilkerson caused this.”
John sighed. He remembered the first time that Sam had been hurt-seriously hurt on a hunt. It hadn’t been life threatening- no more than a bad scratch in the Winchester book on injuries-but it had given him his first glimpse of the monster he had helped create.
His youngest son had just turned ten and was so determined and eager to help with the hunts that his father had decided it was time to let him take a more active role. John could admit now that he’d gotten a little cocky about his skill. He was damn good at what he did-fate had demanded that he become efficient and mastered. But his first hard lesson in humility had almost cost Sam his life.
John would never forget the look on Dean’s face when the thing they were chasing doubled back and went for Sammy. It was so quick and John wasn’t use to having an extra person on the team to watch after. He’d almost forgot that Sam wasn’t back at the car-asleep-until his boy screamed.
The monster had it’s claws on Sam before he could react and if not for Dean’s quick thinking and unbelievably fucking good aim, they could have lost him right then and there.
Dean had shown no mercy as he unloaded the silver bullets into the beast’s chest and then to it’s head. When it had dropped Sam-he wasn’t sure which one of his sons was more terrified.
All bravado had been forfeited though when Dean caught sight of the blood on his kid brother’s shirt. The physical pain that Sam endured that night as his father cleaned and stitched the three deep slashes across his ribs probably paled in comparison to the emotional suffering that his soft whimpers had inflicted on Dean.
Sammy had done his best to suck it up and be brave just like he’d seen his old man and big brother do, but once Dean fell apart-Sam couldn’t hold it together either.
John sighed as the memory washed over him in vivid clarity. He’d allowed them that moment of innocent weakness-let Dean comfort Sam as he administered the medical treatment that his son needed. Later, he’d distantly watched as Dean praised his brother’s bravery and then held him protectively. He’d run his hand over the little boy’s hair-muttering words of solace as if they were a magic charm to hold the demons at bay-and it had worked. Soothed Sam more than any first aid he‘d managed.
Later when Sam had finally fallen asleep John had let his oldest son have it. The marine in him convinced himself that it was for Dean’s own good. For Sam’s too.
John had told Dean that if Sam was going to hunt with them then he’d just have to learn to live with the bumps and the bruises. He couldn’t be afraid-and Dean couldn’t foster that fear with false illusions of safety.
Sam was past the point that his big brother could chase the monsters from beneath his bed and kiss away the boo boos.
He also pointed out that there may be a day when Dean wouldn’t be there. But of course, Dean understood all too well that Sam and John both expected him to always be there.
John looked at his now grown son and couldn’t help but to think of that fourteen year old who had fearlessly faced that monster to save his brother. The same teenager who had showed maybe even more guts when he’d told his old man to go straight to hell that night and then informed said father that Sam wouldn’t be joining them on any more hunts until he was at least twelve.
It had been Sam- not John- who had convinced him otherwise. He had a feeling that Sam would probably be the only one who could save Jeff Wilkerson’s ass also. But John would make sure to keep a close reign on Dean just the same- in case that same ugly monster decided to rear it‘s head again. The police would find it difficult to understand if Dean unloaded a clip of silver into a seventeen year old kid-even if the little bastard probably deserved it.
“Here’s the exit, Dad.” Dean’s voice brought him back to the present. His son pointed to the glowing sign with the large H on it, as if his old man were blind or something, and John couldn’t help but to notice that he already had his fingers wrapped around the door handle.
The older hunter left the interstate and raked a hand through his hair. It was well after midnight, and he had a feeling that morning wouldn’t shed light on anything good for his family. He could only hope that someone or something was looking out for them. They deserved a fucking break for a change.
He didn’t trust dropping Dean at the front and finding a parking space-instead he just left the car in an emergency drop off lane and he and his son practically ran for the door. Desperation was trying to get a foot hold againand John had to dig deep to find the good soldier underneath his dad façade.
The first person that they saw when the two of them burst through the swinging silver ER bay doors was Marty. He still had his wrecker uniform on and he looked more shaken than John had seen the man since first meeting him. And considering that Marty had at one time been a State Trooper, John wasn’t comforted by the big man’s distraught features.
Even more troubling was the smeared blood on the man’s jacket and hands. “Marty?”
“John-thank God.”
“How’s Sam?” Dean had also picked up on the man’s appearance and his eyes lingered on the blood stains as he spoke.
Collins raked a hand through his gray-thinning hair. “He made it to the hospital.”
The tow truck driver looked at John. “It’s a fucking miracle he survived that crash. The whole back end of that piece of fiberglass that Wilkerson drives folded in like an aluminum can. That poor McGhee kid…”
“Where’s my brother?” Dean didn’t want to hear the gory details of the crash-he’d be sure and have Jeff tell him all about it before he made him swallow his teeth. Right now he only had one thing on his mind-Sam.
Marty looked from John to Dean, as a nurse walked up to them. “Are you with the young man that they just brought in?”
Marty nodded to John. "He is."
“I’m his father.”
“Good. We have some papers we need you to sign right away. Please follow me.”
John looked at Dean who was staring at Marty again, before following the woman to a cubicle.
“Where did they take Sam, Marty?”
“Dean-they won’t let you go back there, son.”
Hard green eyes held the man’s sympathetic blue gaze. “Where?”
Marty sighed. He pointed toward the silver treatment bay doors. “They took him straight back to the exam area. We got here just before you and your dad. It took over an hour to cut him out of the car even after they got the crash team there and…”
Dean didn’t wait to hear anymore. Sam had been alone long enough. The young hunter made his way to the doors clearly marked with a Hospital Staff Only sign and pushed through them.
The nurse on duty called out to him but he kept moving ignoring her sharp, authoritative tone. Fuck the rules.
All his senses were on full alert-the hairs on the back of his neck prickling just like they did when he was on a hunt. His muscles were tense, prepared for action and he could almost feel the little vein on the side of his head pulsing with his increased heart rate.
He was fighting the urge to call out Sam’s name when the instantly recognizable sound of his kid brother’s distraught voice coming from somewhere near the end of the hall nearly had breaking into a run.
Seventeen year old Sam Winchester’s word was currently consumed by pain and confusion.
He was cold-shivering-and no one would listen to him. Sam had tried to ask them something several times, but his pleas had gone unheard, or at least unheeded to.
Had someone called his brother? Where was Dean? That’s all he wanted to know. Where was his dad? Where was Jake?
Sam had drifted in and out of consciousness as the crash team had fought with twisted metal to free him from what was left of Jeff’s car only to awake to cold, unfamiliar hands grasping and prodding at him.
They’d cut Dean’s shirt off of him. And where is hisnecklace? His brother was going to be pissed.
His jeans had been shredded too-leaving Sam nearly naked and vulnerable.
And now he was on a hard table in his shorts and shoes-the icy metal sapping what warmth he had left.
God-he was cold. So fucking cold.
The unfamiliar hands were back again-igniting the now familiar pain in his arm and side. Since no one was going to listen to him-help him-Sam did the only thing that he’d been taught to do-he fought.
“Someone get his damn feet! He just kicked the shit out of me.” Dr. Mark Daniels dodged another size 12 as the teen lashed out.
“He’s losing blood again. His pressure is dropping.” Cate Simms tried to watch the boys vitals as she dodged his flailing arm.
“Damn, he’s strong!” Dr. Billows barely kept hold of the patient’s broken arm as he bucked wildly on the exam table. “I can’t believe he’s still conscious.”
Daniels glared at the heart monitor that was beeping erratically. “We want him conscious with that head wound. I don’t want him sedated- so find a way to strap him down-damn it!”
“This isn’t helping, Doctor,” Billows pointed out. “He’s already in shock.”
“Get some orderlies down here. NOW!” One of the techs grabbed a phone that was attached to the wall and spoke calmly to someone on the other end.
“They’re on their way.”
“Let…me…go.” Sam shoved and fought against the demons trying to kill him. They were tearing him limb from limb-their viciously loud screams threatening to shatter his skull into a million pieces. “Please…stop.”
The hurt-filled pleas of his kid brother had Dean Winchester seeing red as he barged into the small, already cramped, exam area. “Hey!” he shouted pulling the closest person holding his brother down away from the metal table “Get off him.” He shoved the man against the wall.
Dr. Billows looked shocked and then angry. “ Who the hell are you? You aren’t suppose to be back here!” He looked around wildly. “Someone get this kid out of here.”
Dean ignored him turning to the nurse who was trying to hold Sam’s head still. “Let him go.”
“He has a head injury. I’m trying to help him.”
“Dean?” Sam had recognized the voice instantly. His struggles easing some, but not completely and tried to search the room for the source of his rescue. “Dean-help me.”
That was all it took. Dean reach for the gun he always kept in the back of his jeans, but cursed as he remembered John had packed it when they left the hotel. He faced the woman again, letting the anger in his voice and demeanor suffice as a threat. “You’re not doing a very good job, lady. Now get the hell away from my brother.”
The woman looked at Daniels who nodded. “It’s alright, Cate.” She let go of Sam and he cried out as he tried to lift his head to get a look at Dean.
Dean was at his side in an instant. “Easy, Sammy. Take it easy.” The older Winchester let his hand rest on his kid brother’s head, making sure Sam could see him.
God-he was a fucking mess.
“You need to get him to calm down.”
Dean glanced at the young doctor who had backed away from Sam some, but still held a bandage to a bleeding gash on his brother’s side.
Dean nodded, and looked back to his brother. His own heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, so he could only imagine what Sam was feeling. He put his other hand on the teens face. “Come on, baby brother. Just breathe-okay. You’re safe. I’m here now.”
The orderlies burst in at that moment. “Get his ass out of here.” Billows bellowed and Sam flinched.
Dean had to let go of his brother to face off against the two burly men in white coats advancing on him and Sam cried out in pain as he tried to recover the lost contact.
Dr. Daniels held up his hand to stop the orderlies. “Leave him be. If he can calm the boy down-let him.”
Billows huffed loudly, but apparently wasn’t willing to argue with the other physician. “This is against every protocol,” he said, but called the orderlies back just the same.
Dean glared at the two men and moved to Sam’s side once again. “Sam-calm down.”
The stern tactic must have worked because his younger brother ceased his struggles and held his brother’s gaze with his one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. He reached his uninjured hand out and Dean caught it in his and held to it tightly. “Dean.”
“Yeah.” Dean swallowed hard, but kept the stern edge to his voice. “It’s me. I’m here and I need you to just stop fighting the doctors-alright. Just be still.” He ran his hand over Sam’s hair again, and forced a smile. “They’re trying to put humpty-dumpty back together again.”
Sam’s breath started to even out and he smiled, so glad that his brother had finally showed up. “I had a big fall?”
Dean nodded, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall. “Fucking stupendous, little brother.”
It looked like Sam was going to say something but suddenly one of the machines started beeping and the youngest Winchester’s eyes rolled up in his head, and his entire body began to convulse.
“SAM!” Dean yelled, as he tried to comprehend what was happening. “Sammy?”
“Fuck!” Daniels and Billows both crowded around the table. “He’s seizing.”
“Get a crash cart in here.”
“What’s happening? What’s going on?” Dean was shouting- but no one was listening.
Nurse Cate pried his hand away from Sam’s and gently pushed him back. “I’m sorry, son, you have to leave.”
“No!” Dean started back towards the table, but strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him away. “Sam! Sammy!”
He struggled and fought like a wild man, but the arms held strong, and it was only when he heard his father’s deep voice in his ear that he stopped fighting.
John continued to hold on to his son-his arms pinning the younger man’s back against his chest. “It’s okay, Dean,” he whispered softly. “Sammy’s okay. He’ll be okay.”
John held Dean
closer as he felt the quiet gut-wrenching sobs wrack his son'sbody as
they watched the doctors fight for Sam’s life. “I’ve got you, son. I’m
here.” He closed his eyes, letting his lips rest against Dean’s soft
hair and kept whispering the magic charm that would hopefully hold the
demons at bay.