What's up Doc? Chapter 6
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CHAPTER 6
Sam tried in vain to suck in a breath. The Doctor stood over him smiling in victory. He saw Dean's head appear through the opaque legs, his brothers' eyes going wide.
"Sam!"
Sam still held the shotgun, had kept the barrel from dropping to his lap and reflexively pulled the trigger as he felt his oxygen starved body losing the battle.
Dean heard the click of the trigger a second before Sam fired and dropped back into the grave. Rock salt sailed just above his head. He leaped back up to see the Doctor gone again and his brother slowly toppling to his side, mouth wide and gasping for air.
When he would have climbed out to go check on him, Sam waved a weak hand to say 'don't stop. Finish it.' Dean scowled but dropped back down knowing Sam was right. He was nearly there. Dean took up the shovel again and minutes later the shovel clanged on the top of a coffin. He crashed through the rotted timbers with the shovel blade, pulling them up to reveal the remains of one dead Surgeon.
Now he did climb out. Dean opened the bag next to Sam, one eye on his struggling brother, one wary of the spirits' return. He dashed back to the grave, salt can in one hand, lighter fluid in the other and dumped both down into the hole, covering the bones. When he was satisfied, he pulled a matchbook out of his pocket and lit it.
He held it over the grave and dropped it in with relish. Somewhere in the Fort, he heard the final scream of an angry ghost and grinned' satisfied. "Burn in hell you sick bastard." The flames leaped about in the hole and Dean left them to do their work.
"Sammy?" Dean eased a hand under his brothers head and his arm around his back and got him sitting up again. "You ok?"
Sam snorted softly, looking up at Dean with red rimmed eyes. "No. Idiot." He gave a laugh that ended in a pained moan. "Ow…ow…god."
"Okay, I think you're going to the hospital." Dean grabbed up the bag and then worked at getting Sam to his feet.
"Don'wanna." Sam muttered, eyes closed.
"Tough titty." Dean grimaced, pulling Sam along with him in a drunken stumble. Sam struggled to stay upright. Every movement burned pain through him, his head was swimming and he was so thirsty.
"Almost there." Dean soothed. The ghost gone, worry was consuming him again. Fresh blood was beginning to flow from Sam's shoulder and he could hear the labored breaths as he tried to breathe around the broken rib. They walked under the gate and this time it stayed quiet above and Dean sighed in relief.
"Here we go, Sammy." Dean leaned him against the side of the Impala and cursed when Sam's knees started to buckle. Sam took hold of Dean's shirt as he was wedged between the car and Dean's chest. Dean opened the door and folded Sam carefully into the passenger seat. He was nearly unconscious and his head rolled to rest against the window as Dean shut the door. He ran to the other side and peeled away from the Fort in another cloud of red dust.
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Sam floated up from the bottom of the dark hole he'd been in. Expecting pain, he was surprised to feel little but a sheen of sweat covering him. A familiar hand rested on his forehead and he squinted eyes open to see his brother's relieved face above him.
"Hey Sasquatch." Dean said softly and smiled. Sam had thrashed himself out of a nightmare. The sounds he'd made told Dean he was reliving his time at the Fort. He smoothed Sam's dark hair back from his face. "How you feeling?"
"Floaty." Sam said and smirked when Dean laughed. He looked around and saw he was in a hospital room. A scratchy sheet was pulled up to his chest, various monitors attached to him and he frowned when he had trouble raising his arm to push the irritating tube out from under his nose.
"Don't Sammy." Dean pushed his hand back down. "Leave it. You need that a while yet." The laundry list of injuries the Doctor had rattle off at him had made him go cold. The Doctor himself had been pale when describing the clear human scratch marks inside Sam's chest on the exposed rib.
"It'sam. Why'm'I so floaty?" Sam slurred, eyes closing.
"They gotcha on the good drugs." Dean rested a hand lightly on Sam's shoulder. They'd dosed him with morphine hoping to numb the pain of the six inch long, inch wide place where his skin had been ripped away. The wound was covered now, protecting the artificial skin graft they'd put over it. "Go back to sleep. I'll be right here."
Sam smiled and nodded and drifted back off, his breathing evening out. The local police had been and gone. Dean told them he and his brother were visiting the Fort and had been attacked. The Detectives had been surprised to learn there'd been an apparent serial killer operating just outside their town. They'd left, promising to come back with more questions after a search of the Fort. Dean wondered if Sam would be strong enough to leave before then. It didn't matter that for once the mess wasn't theirs to clean up; talking to any cops with his brother so out of it made him nervous. He'd just assume skip town.
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They spent another two days in the hospital when Sam spiked a fever from infection and Dean had to make nice with the Detectives when they returned. He'd spent both days at Sam's side, keeping him calm. Each time Dean stepped away, Sam somehow knew and would panic in his fevered state. It was a nerve wracking forty eight hours with a delirious Sam and ice baths to lower his temperature that hurt Dean almost as much as they hurt Sam.
Dean stumbled exhausted out of the bathroom in their motel room and went to check on Sam, stepping carefully over the salt line in the bathroom door. He'd decided not to take any more chances after losing Sam out of the damn room while he slept.
Sam lay quietly in his bed on his back, one hand protectively over his ribs. He was a mass of bandages from the waist up. Dean laid a hand on the bend of his neck, happy to feel a normal temperature rather than the burning warmth of only the day before. He sat on the side of his bed and allowed himself a moment to simply fall apart. It had been a very long time since he'd seen his little brother that hurt and he felt as though he had failed in some tangible way in his job of protector. He looked over at Sam again and made himself take a deep breath. He wondered what their Dad would say and for a moment, almost picked up his phone to call him. Dean shook his head. He didn't think he could handle hearing the recorded message just then.
He flopped back onto his bed and swung his legs up then just stared up at the ceiling letting the worry of the last few days slip away. Dean pictured the bonfire of the Doctors bones and smiled; Job well done. Then he frowned and pushed himself up in the bed. He had the distinct feeling he'd missed something but couldn't put his finger on what. The bones had burned, the ghost had been dealt with and Sam was safe. "Dammit." He said softly and slid back down, pulling the blankets over him. Whatever it was nagged at him as he drifted into a much needed, fitful sleep.
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Dean woke suddenly and whipped his head over to find Sam's bed empty. He leaped out of the bed, hearing the shower running and ran to the bathroom. The nightmare of waking once again to find Sam gone ripped through him. He jerked the door open and ran to the shower, tearing the curtain back.
"What the hell, Dean?" Sam shouted. He had a head of soapy hair and stood with one arm braced against the shower wall.
"Oh…um." Dean grinned sheepishly and pulled the curtain back. "I was just…checking. Sorry." He backed to the door while Sam spluttered. The panic vanished to be replaced by embarrassment and the intense need to wipe the image of his naked brother out of his mind.
"Dude, can I finish alone or do you wanna scrub my back?" Sam called.
"Aw Sammy that is just wrong!" Dean groaned and slammed the bathroom door shut on his little brothers' laugh. "Awesome." He rolled his eyes at himself and flopped back down on his bed. "What is wrong with me?"
Sam came out of the shower a little while later and found Dean sitting on the side of his bed, head in his hands. He gave his jeans a tug up on his hips and tossed his shirt, not interested in putting it on over his wounded chest just then. Sam wobbled weakly over to his own bed and lowered himself painfully down. The shower had taken most of whatever energy he had when he'd woken but he'd felt the intense need to be clean of the hospital and of the last vestiges of that damned fort clinging to his skin.
"Dean?" Sam tapped the top of his brothers' head. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Sorry." Dean looked up and gave him a lopsided smile. "Guess I just freaked a little." He got up and grabbed the first aid kit and brought it back. "Let me redress that stuff for you."
"I can do it." Sam protested at being babied and Dean slapped his hand away.
"Dude your hands are shaking like a virgin at prom. Stop bitchin."
Sam sighed and laid back. The truth was he was feeling that weak, though he wouldn't admit it, and groaned with relief when his head hit the pillow again. Dean was quick and careful, causing as little pain as he could. The skinned area of Sam's chest was still incredibly sensitive and he balled his fists in the sheets while Dean covered it.
"Easy, Sammy." Dean smoothed a hand over his brothers' forehead as a light sweat broke out. "Almost done."
"I'm good." Sam managed breathlessly. He let a long breath out in relief when Dean sat back and patted his shoulder.
"Yeah you look good." Dean smirked. He took the first aid kit back to the table and dropped the used bandages into the trash can. He stood there, staring down at the pile of crumpled bandages in the bottom of the can while something nagged at the back of his mind again.
Sam looked over and frowned, Dean was standing, staring down at something. "Dean?"
"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, throwing his arms out in frustration and turned back to Sam. "I missed it. I freakin' missed it! Dammit!"
"Dean, what's wrong?" Sam made himself sit up as Dean paced across the room and back. "What did you miss? Calm down man."
Instead, Dean grabbed the weapons bag from under his bed. "The skull. It's been driving me crazy this whole time. There was no skull in the grave, Sammy." He stopped then and turned worried and angry eyes to his little brother. Sam's face paled as he watched. "I'm sorry, man. I missed it. I was so preoccupied getting you out of there it didn't register til right now." He kicked the bed in a fit of temper, angry with himself.
"OK." Sam forced calm on himself, pushing away the fear that threatened to rise up and choke him. "Are you sure? I mean, it stopped when you did the salt and burn. Maybe you just didn't see it."
"No. No it wasn't there. I tore the whole lid off that box man. There was no skull and that means that sick bastard is still out there." Dean did sit finally. "He played us."
"Then we need to find the skull." Sam took his shirt from the foot of his bed and shrugged carefully into it, grimacing.
"We nothing. You're out of this." Dean said fiercely.
"Get a grip." Sam smiled, trying to reassure his shaken brother. "I'm fine, Dean. I mean, I'm not wrestling a gator anytime soon but I'm good." Sam clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder as he passed, going to the table and his laptop. He sat carefully, hoping the level of exhaustion he felt didn't show on his face while Dean watched him. "If the skull wasn't there and the coffin was intact?" He raised his brows and Dean nodded. "Then it never got buried with the rest of him. We need to find someone who'd know what happened back then."
"What? You got a blue police box hiding around here somewhere?" Dean snarked, finding his calm. "Can't exactly go back in time and ask."
Sam chuckled. "No, but the Pawnee might know. I mean, they were the ones he was taking apart back then. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them did something with his skull. Remember the signs painted on his headstone?"
"Indians. Awesome." Dean shook his head. "What the hell ever happened to a simple salt and burn?"
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Author's note: So, I was going to end this story here with this chapter. My Muse however, who has been quietly playing Monkeys in a Barrel with herself in the corner for a week slapped me up the back of the head and said "What the hell, Kaz? You realize you're about to finish this without exploring a whole facet of the story YOU set up in the first place? Idjit." She shook her head, went back to her Monkeys and flipped me off. So, I'll be extending this story…before she hurts me. :) More to come!
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