To Die in Love's Embrace Chapter 3
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
CHAPTER 3
Dean dropped to his knees beside Sam, resting a comforting hand on the back of the kids' neck for a moment. His worry ratcheted up another notch at feeling the cold, clammy skin beneath his hand. He gently peeled back the edge of the towel and saw a four inch slice crawling up Sam's forearm. It was still oozing blood but Sam had stopped most of the bleeding.
"I'm sorry, Sammy." Dean was overcome with guilt. He couldn't believe he'd left without putting his knife up. His father would skin him alive for it and he would deserve every second of it. "Come on, Sam. I need to get you lying down so I can take care of this." He pulled his little brother into a shaky stand and watched as he swayed and ended leaning all his weight on Dean, rolling his head against his big brothers chest. "Ok, Sammy. It's gonna be ok." Sam looked a little green as Dean tilted his face up for a look. "You gonna hurl?"
Sam shook his head slowly, carefully and swallowed noisily.
"Ok, but if you blow chunks on me, I will kick your ass." Dean said, trying to put a smile on Sam's face. He was rewarded with a ghost of one and walked him slowly out of the bathroom and to their bed. Dean tugged the bloodstained quilt to the foot of the bed, and helped Sam lay down. "It's gonna be ok, buddy." Dean's hands shook once, hard as he went for the medical kit. They'd left him alone, him and Dad and ok it was fine if Dad took off for a while but Sammy was Dean's responsibility and dammit what the hell had he been thinking?
"Not your fault, Dean." Sam said with a sad smile. "I didn't look before I jumped on the bed." He winced as Dean pulled the towel off his arm, peeling away some of the clotting blood.
"You shouldn't have had to look, little brother." Dean growled and set the towel under his arm to catch the blood while he cleaned the cut. He twitched with every whimper from Sam, every indrawn breath and smiled with pride when Sam reached into the bag and handed him the antiseptic. "It's gonna hurt."
"I know. I can take it." Sam said bravely
"I know you can, buddy." Dean took a firm grip of Sam's wrist and poured the antiseptic into the cut. Sam muffled his cry in the pillow and Dean could feel the massive effort it took him not to pull his arm away through the trembling wrist beneath his hand. "Ok, Sammy. Ok. Worst over." He took a pile of gauze and wrapped it gently over the wound. It needed stitches but Dean's hands were simply shaking too much just then. It could wait.
"Gon' be sick." Sam moaned and rolled to the side of the bed. Dean just managed to hook the little waste can over and get it under his head. He rubbed circles on Sam's back as he heaved. Just then, as if he'd timed it for the worst possible moment, Dad came home.
"Boys, I've got din…"John froze holding up the take out bags and stared at his sons. "What the hell happened?" He dropped the food on table and worked to swallow the panic at the obvious blood on Sam, his bed and the floor.
"Accident…Dad." Sam panted as he rolled away from the can and flopped back on the bed, exhausted. "My fault."
John strode to the bed and took the seat Dean vacated beside Sam. He pushed damp, dark hair out of his youngests' eyes and carefully looked beneath the gauze, eyes widening in shock. "What kind of accident?"
"Dad it's my fault." Dean said miserably and told him quickly what had happened. He saw his father's eyes darken with anger and then close before he reached out and clasped a hand on Dean's arm.
"We'll talk about this later." John said. He could see the misery on Dean's face, the guilt obviously overwhelming the young man and figured that was punishment enough for now. John handed the waste can to him with a nod at the bathroom. "Clean this out, get me a clean towel, water and where's the Tylenol?"
Dean jumped to action, playing nurse for his Dad while he quickly and expertly put a row of neat stitches in Sam's arm. Sam had a mouthful of blanket throughout the process, eyes closed tight as his pale face paled even further. By the end he was curled towards his father with his brother at his back, lying beside him rubbing absently up and down his good arm to comfort them both and fifteen new stitches.
"Ok, Sammy. Sit up for me?" John helped Dean prop Sam up against the pillows. "You need to eat something."
"Not hungry anymore." Sam groaned. The pain and the stitches had driven his appetite far away but Dad shook his head at him.
"Well you're going to get something down, son." John grabbed the forgotten bags and dug through, coming out with a small salad container. "How about this?" Sam nodded, resigned and took it with his good arm.
Sam picked through his salad while Dean inhaled a burger beside him. When he'd managed to eat half of it his Dad finally took pity on him and let him set it aside. Sam, looking younger than his thirteen years for a moment, rolled into his big brother, burying his head in his shoulder, careful of his bandaged arm and promptly fell asleep. Dean wrapped an arm over him and pulled the blanket up to cover him with a soft chuckle.
John smiled. "Poor kid's had a rough night."
Dean frowned and heaved a sigh. "I shouldn't have left him."
"Now, Dean." John sat on the bed beside his sons. "He's thirteen, well old enough to amuse himself safely for a few hours." He fixed a stern glare on his eldest. "That is when his big brother remembers to take proper care of his weapons."
Dean dropped his head to the top of Sam's and nodded miserably. "I know, Dad. I'm so sorry."
"You're on cleaning duty for the next week" John nodded at the weapons bag under his bed. He considered imposing some tougher punishment but honestly, the look on Dean's face told him he couldn't punish him more than he was himself. The bond between his sons was everything he could have hoped for as a father and more. Sometimes he almost felt left out between them. Dean and Sam could communicate with each other with just a look and it sometimes made his heart ache when his baby boy turned to his elder brother before his father.
Dean scooted carefully out from the sleeping Sam and dug his pajamas out of his bag, heading for the bathroom.
"We'll hunt tomorrow night." John told him. "I've got a lead or two we can follow. Might even get lucky."
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Dean woke with a small heater against his back and yawned, pushing the blankets down. The heater twitched and mumbled against him and Dean shot fully awake. "Sammy?" He rolled over, gathering Sam up. His little brother moaned, moving restlessly in his sleep and was warm with fever.
"Dean? What's wrong?" His Dad's voice came sleepily from the other bed.
"Dad, he's got a fever." Dean said and blinked furiously as the light came on.
"It's alright, Dean." John rolled out of bed. "I expected this. See if you can wake him."
"Sammy?" Dean wiped a hand over Sam's fevered brow, brushing his hair back and then rubbed his knuckles in the center of Sam's chest. "Come on, little brother. Time to wake up."
Sam moaned and opened bleary, hazel eyes to look up at him. "Don' feel good, Dean." He said weakly.
"It's ok, buddy." Dean pulled him up against his chest and tucked Sam's head under his chin. Sam had always had a knack for developing fevers after injuries. Dean was hoping he'd grow out of it and stop giving him gray hairs.
John came back and sat, handing Sam two Tylenol and a glass of water. He cupped a hand to the side of his son's face and smiled. He was hot yes, but not as bad as he'd imagined. "My Sammy. Just can't catch a break." John said and Sam gave a weak laugh. John took the cold, wet washcloth he'd grabbed and set it across Sam's forehead. He sighed in appreciation and shivered violently against Dean for a moment.
"Go back to sleep, buddy." Dean settled against the headboard so Sam was propped comfortably against his chest. "I've got you."
"Kay." Sam mumbled and dutifully closed his eyes, absolute trust in the instant relaxation of his body that Dean would make everything alright.
John handed Dean the washcloth. "You get some more sleep too." He ordered.
"I will, Dad." Dean nodded, mopping Sam's brow and silently promised not to get any until his brother's fever broke.
John shook his head and got back in bed knowing full well Dean had lied. He shut off the light with a smirk and fell back to sleep to the soft whispers of his oldest son soothing his youngest.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
"Dude! You're hoggin' all the hot water!" Dean yelled, sticking his head in the bathroom. Sam had woken fever free and grumbled until Dad had let him up to shower after swearing he didn't feel that bad. "Sammy?" Dean had shouted, hoping Sam would yell back so he'd know he was alright.
"Help, Dean." Sam's voice came quietly over the sound of the water. Sam sat in the bottom of the tub where his legs had given out, just too weak to stay standing under the hot pulsing of the shower any longer. He was mortified to need help while naked and wet, just old enough now to be self-conscious.
Dean's arm slipped into the shower and turned off the water then a towel dropped onto Sam's head. His eyes moistened with gratitude for the big brother who saved his modesty. He wrapped the towel around under his arms. "Okay."
Dean pulled the curtain back and gave worried eyes to his little brother. "Ran out of gas, huh?" He smiled and Sam nodded tiredly. "Come on. Let's get you up."
"Is he okay?" John asked, stepping into the bathroom and peering around Dean to see Sam.
Dean saw Sam roll his eyes and blush and turned to his Dad with a chuckle. "Yeah, Dad. Give us a minute?"
"Hmph." John grunted, mildly annoyed at his sons kicking him out and left, shutting the door.
"Come on, shorty." Dean smirked and slipped his hands under Sam's shoulders. He stood him up and held him steady while he pulled the towel more securely around himself.
Sam's legs still felt rubbery and his arm ached fiercely. He'd not have made it out of the tub if not for his big brothers' arms. Dean lowered him to sit on the lid of the toilet.
"Ok buddy. You want help getting dressed or can you handle it?" Dean took the pile of clean clothes from the sink and put them on the back of the toilet.
"I can do it." Sam said and smiled. "Thanks, Dean."
"All part of the service." Dean mussed Sam's wet hair affectionately and left him to himself.
"He's alright?" John demanded as Dean shut the door.
"Yeah." Dean nodded. "Just ran out of gas and got embarrassed."
John nodded, relieved and wiped a hand over his face. "Need to get some food in him now."
Dean nodded again and sat on the bed, tugging his boots over. "Oh. There's a haunted park near here." Dean grinned up at the surprise on his father's face. "Saw a solid apparition last night."
"Violent?" John asked and started searching his son for signs of hidden injuries.
"Naw. Not last night anyway but he definitely gave off a bad vibe. Kaz says he's harmless."
"Kaz?" John scowled. "So a girl's responsible for your slip in weapon safety last night?" John shook his head. His eldest son was entirely too enamored of the opposite sex for his liking.
Dean ducked his head, feeling shame crawl up his neck. "Sorry, Sir. I swear, that's never going to happen again." The image of Sam bleeding on the bathroom floor because of him was going to stick with him for a good long while he knew.
Sam chose that moment to appear, bare-chested and holding his shirt in his good hand. "Can't get my shirt on." He said in an irritated whine.
Dean smirked and waved Sam over. "Sit." Sam did with a sigh and let Dean ease the shirt up over his stitches and to his shoulder, then over his head.
"I'm hungry." Sam looked up at his Dad hopefully and got a smile.
"Good." John took Sam's sneakers and knelt on the floor, slipping them on his boys feet. "Feel up to going out for breakfast?" Sam nodded, tired of looking at the motel room and the stains from his blood trailing across the carpet.
"You get too tired, you tell me." John ordered sternly and Sam nodded. "Let's get some gauze on that arm and we'll go." He patted Sam's sneakered feet. "We get some food in you and rebuild some of the blood you lost, you'll feel better." He pulled a hand through Sam's shaggy hair and swore to remember to give the boy a haircut one of these days.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Riki's Family Restaurant hummed with conversation as the Winchesters slid into an empty booth. It was a cozy little place tucked in an unassuming front on Main street. From the outside it was simple brick front. Inside was a cozily lit dining room done in browns and reds with lived in leather booths and a decor that said whoever owned the place wanted it to feel like his living room; inviting.
"God I want coffee." Dean moaned as the smell hit his nose. Only for Sam's sake had he curbed his usual morning whining for the all-important first cup of coffee. Now they were within reach of that delicious, dark nectar that he couldn't start his day without and his resolve not to be a baby for it crumbled, making Sam chuckle beside him. Three menus slid on to the table in front of him and Dean looked up into smiling, moss green eyes.
"Morning, sunshine." Kaz grinned down at him and he laughed then looked to his father's frowning face.
"Dad, this is Kaz. Sammy and I met her yesterday."
John nodded pleasantly at the girl, obviously his son's age and just as obviously a little enamored of him and smiled. "Nice to meet you."
"Hey, Kaz." Sam smiled happily up at her.
"Hey yourself, handsome." She said then frowned, reaching across the table and took his bandaged arm gently. "Sam what did you to yourself?" Concern was etched on her face.
"Accident with a knife." Sam shrugged. "It's not that bad really. I'm hungry though." He smiled. "And Dean needs coffee like yesterday. He's a total baby til he gets it." Dean growled at him and Kaz laughed, patting his hand.
"I'm on it. You too?" She looked at John and he nodded, amused and she left to get their drinks.
"She seems nice." John said to Dean, who blushed again.
"Yeah, she is." Dean mumbled and buried his face in the menu.
Kaz came back and set two mugs of coffee on the table. She set a tall glass of Orange Juice in front of Sam. "Drink it all. You'll feel better." John looked askance at her and she smirked.
"My Mom was a nurse. You pick up a few things, like how to mitigate the effects of blood loss."
"Whoa. Not just a pretty face." Dean drawled and took her slap to the back of his head with a laugh.
"I like her." John said smiling.
"Hey!" Dean protested with a bitch face his little brother would envy.
Kaz swallowed a laugh. "Ok, what can I get you?" She took out pen and pad and waited. They ordered and when Sam asked for oatmeal, she tilted her head and snorted before leaving to get their food going.
"Business." John said firmly, getting Dean's head back around from watching Kaz walk away. "I spoke to the police and got all the info they have on this woman." He took a folded manila folder from his coat and opened it, pulling out a picture and handing it to Dean. "Regina Morrigan. Couple years ago she went missing. Nine months pregnant."
"Man." Dean shook his head sadly, looking at the attractive woman smiling up at him from the photo. "That really sucks."
"They never found her body." John continued. "Just her clothes and a whole lot of blood in the woods near here."
"That has to be her." Sam said with a nod. It felt right to him.
"More than likely." John agreed. "Not only murdered but about to give birth? That's too much of a coincidence."
"How we gonna send her on if we can't find her bones?" Dean asked.
"The Banshee's been picking people off in those woods and on a bridge that's supposed to be close by. "Odds are she's buried somewhere in the vicinity." John smiled. "So we search."
"Chow's up boys." Kaz returned with a laden tray. She set mouthwatering plates of steak and eggs in front of Dean and his father. To Sam she gave a plate piled with pancakes and a bottle of syrup.
"This isn't oatmeal." Sam regarded the plate suspiciously.
"Got it in one." Kaz smirked. "You need the sugar more. You're too pale still."
John snorted. "She's right son. Thank you." He said to Kaz.
"No problem." She took Dean's coffee mug to refill it and then froze.
"Kaz?" Dean looked up at her and instinctively reached out, touching her arm. She was wide eyed, the blood draining from her face. "Kaz, what's wrong?"
She swallowed noisily. "Why…Why do you have a picture of my Mom?"
John's jaw dropped. "Oh god." He said stunned. What were the odds? He asked himself and stared at the shock on his sons faces. This was going to complicate things.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Click here for Part 4: