ohsam | THE HUDDLE - Chapter 2/6

Title: THE HUDDLE

Author: Leigh Ann Wallace
Rating: PG-13
Genre/pairing: Gen
Characters: Sam & Dean Winchester, John Winchester
Word count: 2102
Summary: I loathe summaries. Suffice it to say that Sam gets on the wrong side of the local football hero and things go bad.
Spoilers: (if applicable) No spoilers. Pre-series

Warnings: (if applicable) Some Language and violence
Disclaimer: Pretty clear I don't own anything to do with Supernatural. Written out of love and passionate obsession.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A voice called to him through the darkness and pain.

"Sam, you need to wake up. Sam!"

Dean.

He would be okay now. Nothing bad could happen with his brother there.

"Sir, give us some room! We need some room here!"

Frantic calling Sam's name, Dean gave way and moved around to his brother's head, letting the paramedics in to work on him. From what he could see in the glare of the headlights, his Sam's face was covered with bruises and cuts and his clothing was torn. When one of the medics checked out Sam's hands, Dean saw that they were bloody and bruised, the knuckles torn up.

His little brother had fought back. Dean felt a surge of angry pride. He'd messed the bastards up, whoever they were.

That would make it easier for him to find them.

The two medics worked quickly and competently over Sam. Dean crouched next to his brother, whispering encouragement into his ear.

"Heart rate's pretty high," one of the techs said. "Blood pressure's down."

Sam started to come around when one of the techs palpated his upper abdomen. He groaned with pain, head thrashing back and forth, then sank back down into unconsciousness.

"We might have some internal damage here, Jimmy. We'd better get moving," the female medic said.

"I'll get the gurney." Jimmy ran to the ambulance.

Keeping out of the way, the policeman came to stand behind Dean.

"Do you know this boy, sir?"

Not looking up, Dean answered, "He's my brother."

The officer had his notebook out. "Name?"

"Sam Cade."

"Age?"

Dean gently smoothed Sam's dark hair back from his face. "He's sixteen."

"And your name?"

"Dean Cade."

"Parents?"

"Our dad." Dean looked up. "He's out of town on business."

The cop stepped back as the paramedics lifted Sam onto the stretcher. As careful as they were, he cried out in pain and then trailed off into moaning incoherence as they secured him to the stretcher and quickly loaded him into the back of the ambulance.

When Dean tried to climb in after them, the woman blocked him from getting in.

"He's my brother!" he said desperately. "You've got to let me come with you!"

"No, I'm sorry." She was sympathetic, but firm. "Look, I get it, but I need room to maneuver in here, you'll just be in the way. Follow us in your car."

Up front, Jimmy started the ambulance. "Let's get going, Jo!"

Dean started to protest again and she interrupted, "The longer you argue, the longer it takes us to get him to a doctor and trust me, your brother needs a doctor."

Looking past her into the ambulance, Dean saw Sam struggling against the restraints, moaning in pain. Jo, hearing him, cursed and slammed the door in Dean's face.

"Shit!"

Dean ran to the Impala and jumped in, quickly starting her and pulling in close behind the ambulance as it moved out.

Peripherally, he could see the cop questioning the girl who'd directed them to Sam. Part of him knew that talking to her was something he needed to do, and soon. Right now, all he wanted was to get to his brother.

He wanted Sam awake and looking at him, and not in pain.

Then he wanted Sam to tell him who'd beaten him so badly. He had some ass kicking to do.

As to whether the bastards would survive that ass kicking?

All bets were off.

Sam opened his eyes to a maelstrom of pain and noise.

Strangers surrounded him and he wheezed out a breath in panic. "Dean!" Bright light shone into his eyes, sending a fresh lancet of pain into his head. "No, don't!" he moaned, twisting away from the hands he could feel on his body. The movement sent a fresh tremor of pain quaking through him. He choked on that pain, gasped for breath.

"Dean!"

"Shh, shh, it's okay, sweetie, calm down," a woman's voice said softly. "We've got you. Calm down, sweetheart. Let us take care of you."

"Dean!"

A murmur of soft voices surrounded him and the first voice came back.

"Your brother's in the waiting room, Sam. Let's get you taken care of and then he'll be in to see you. First, I need you to calm down. Can you do that for me?"

Fear was strong. What was happening. Where was he? He wanted to scream at her, demand his brother, but he recognized the tone of command underneath the soft voice and, more, the scent and sounds around him. Hospital.

Trying to control the panic and fear, trying to breathe through the pain, he whispered. "What's happening?"

"You're at County Hospital, Sam. My name is Dr. Willa Creedy." Kind blue eyes smiled down at him out of a lightly wrinkled face.

"What happened?" he repeated, trying to focus.

"It looks like you got beat up, Sam. But nothing we can't take care of." She moved her hands gently over his legs and arms. "Nothing broken here," she said in an aside to a nurse. "Some pretty extensive bruising, though."

She moved on to his chest and abdomen, pressing lightly here and there. At a low moan from Sam, she said, "It looks like you've got at least one broken rib here. More bruising. Looks like someone gave you a pretty good kick, Sam. Do you remember anything about that?"

Dazed, he stared up at her. "I was at school . . ."

Dr. Creedy moved on to his upper abdomen. "They found you on the football field -" she stopped when he gave a high cry of pain. "This hurts, Sam?"

He nodded, eyes dilated.

"Well, don't worry, we're going to take care of that for you," she said easily. "You rest for a minute, I'm going to go talk to your brother for a minute, and then I'll bring him right back here to see you."

Sam turned his face into the pillow, stifling a moan. Dean. Get me out of here!

"I wasn't able to reach my father," Dean said flatly. "I left him a voicemail. But it doesn't matter. I have legal responsibility for my brother when our dad's away. So tell me what's happening."

"Your brother has extensive bruising and cuts on his arms and legs, and at least one broken rib, which I'm guessing came from being kicked while he was on the ground," Dr. Creedy said gently.

She stopped for a minute when Dean sucked in a harsh breath, white with rage. "The thing I'm most concerned about - and why I asked about your father - with the location of the broken rib and the pain in the surrounding area, I'm concerned that Sam's spleen may have been ruptured."

Dean's heart stuttered; he tried to stay calm. "What does that mean?"

"There are several directions it can go. Best option is I just stitch it up and Sam's good to go. If the damage is severe enough, however, we may have to remove part of the spleen, or even the whole thing."

She laid a hand on Dean's shoulder, gentling the panic she saw rising in him.

"Any surgery has a degree of risk, but this is a very straightforward procedure that I've done many times before. Barring any complications, I don't anticipate any difficulties."

He turned, took a couple steps away, trying to control his intense fear for his brother and the growing fury beneath it.

Dr. Creedy gave him a moment. "We do need to move fairly quickly on this, to avoid complications, Mr. Cade. There will be some paperwork for you to sign, but first, Sam is asking for you."

Jaw tight, Dean nodded shortly. She looked into his furious green eyes, trying to gauge his coping powers.

"One thing. I do need to do one quick test. If you could be there for that, and help me explain what's happening, it will make it a little easier for him. Teenagers tend to think they're immortal, but an operation is scary for anyone." Dean drew a deep breath, locked his rage and fear down tight. When he spoke, his voice was calm.

"Whatever Sam needs, Doc."

Sam, clad only in his boxers and looking small in spite of his not inconsiderable size, looked up with relief when they came into the exam room. "Dean!"

Dean went to his little brother, leaned over and hugged his brother gently. "Hey, Sammy. How you doing?"

"Okay." Tired and confused, Sam stared up at him. "What's happening? I want to go home."

"Yeah, I know. Not just yet, kid."

Sam reached up, touched Dean's arm. "I'm okay," he insisted weakly. "Please, I just want to go home."

Dean stroked Sam's forehead gently, chose his next words carefully.

"Not just yet, kiddo. The doc here wants to do a test."

Sam's eyes widened and Dr. Creedy smiled reassuringly.

"Not a big deal, Sam. It'll just take a minute, then we'll have a better idea what's going on and when you can get out of here."

Sam nodded, reluctantly, relaxed a little and looked at Dean. "Dad?"

Dean decided not to mention having to leave a voicemail. "I called him. He'll be here as soon as he can."

Sam held tight to Dean's hand against the pain while Dr. Creedy gently inserted a needle into Sam's abdomen, and drew out some liquid. The liquid was tinged with red; she studied it, gave it to the nurse with a low-voiced instruction.

"And we'll need a room upstairs, as soon as possible."

The nurse nodded and left quickly.

Creedy spoke to her patient gently. "Sam, it looks like you've got some bleeding into the abdomen, so we're going to have to do some exploratory surgery."

"You want to operate?" Icy with terror, Sam looked at Dean. "Do we have to?"

Dean patted Sam's hand gently. All of the Winchesters had spent a lot of time getting stitched and sewn up after hunts. Sometimes those stitching sessions got pretty freaking serious.

This was something different. Letting someone cut you open and take a look inside, move your guts around? This was a whole new level of 'oh shit'.

"I think we gotta do it, Sammy. Listen, the doc here is good, I can tell. After all, she knew to use words with only one syllable when she was talking to me." He grinned. Sam tried to smile back

Dr. Creedy laid a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm sorry, but it really is necessary. I know something like this can be frightening, but I want you to try not to worry. We do this kind of thing around here all the time and we're going to take very good care of you."

Sam nodded, eyes fastened on Dean, who said, "Can we have a minute here, Doc?"

"Of course, but just a minute. We have to get Sam prepped and you'll need to sign that paperwork we talked about." She gave another reassuring smile to Sam and left the exam room.

Dean took his brother's hand. "You're gonna be fine. Like she said, this spleen thing is no big deal, they do it all the time in hospitals like this."

Sam nodded. A grimace of pain swept over his face. "I hope Dad gets here soon."

"Sam - what the hell happened?" Dean tried to keep the rage he felt out of his voice. "You left a message on my phone you were going to be tutoring some kid. Who beat you up?"

Sam shook his head wearily. "Not now. " He looked away from Dean's scowl. "Please, Dean." He pressed his head back into the pillow, wincing. "God, it freaking hurts!"

"Okay, Sammy, okay," Dean said soothingly. "Don't sweat it, you just stay quiet and rest. I'm gonna go sign those papers the doc asked me for and give Dad another call. I'll be back in a minute."

Nodding, Sam closed his eyes. "I'm cold." Exhausted and pale, he looked a lot younger than his sixteen years.

"I'll cover you up," Dean said. "You rest."

He found a blanket in a nearby closet. As Dean pulled it over his now lightly-dozing brother, seeing again the large, dark and numerous bruises covering Sam's body, rage swept over him, turning his vision red.

Lowering his head against it, he held on to the bed rail, trying to calm himself. Not now. Not now. Later.

He looked into his brother's face. Someone is going to pay for those bruises, he swore silently.

Dean pressed his lips against Sam's forehead and went to find Dr. Creedy.