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And the Ground Shook (5/22) - My Little Corner of the World
And the Ground Shook (5/22)
Disclaimer: I don't own them, they own me.
Rating: Gen, with very mild language.
Category: Gen.
Pairings: None.
Characters: Hurt!Dean, John, Sam.
Summery: "I just want to go home!" Dean protested. John rolled his eyes. They've been having this argument for the past fifteen minutes, and not for the first time, either. "I tell you what, you walk across this room, and I'll sign the papers, okay?"
Comments: Are loved and coveted.
Notes: Pre-series, AU. Not a deathfic. Lots of Dean-whumping, though. Will be updated regularly.

And the Ground Shook

Chapter Five – Starting to Heal

"Dad, c'mon…"

"Dean, you're staying at the hospital, and that's final." John said sternly.

"But Dad…"

"You do realize you sound like a five year old, right?" Dean narrowed his eyes, crossing his hands over his chest.

Almost two weeks have passed since he arrived at the hospital, and Dean couldn’t wait to get home. John, on the other hand, was less than thrilled to let him out without a clean bill of health. Dean's memory about what had happened had more holes in it than Swiss cheese. He remembered three guys, and some chanting, he remembered a woman, and where he'd parked his car, but mostly, he remembered the pain and the terror he'd felt. He still felt that fear, not that he was willing to admit it to anyone, himself included. But as long as his father was around, he felt safe.

Most of his IVs had been taken out, but there were two tubes still invading his body; one of which he welcomed – the one still pumping painkillers into his system. The other one, he couldn’t wait to get rid of. He never imagined how great it is to just get up and walk to the bathroom to answer nature's call. That tube he couldn’t wait to get out of him. Unfortunately for him, Doctor Riley kept very close tabs on his kidneys, and wouldn’t take the catheter out. Dean was really starting to hate that woman.

"I just want to go home!" Dean protested. John rolled his eyes. They've been having this argument for the past fifteen minutes, and not for the first time, either.

"I tell you what, you walk across this room, and I'll sign the papers, okay?" John asked, raising his brow. Dean narrowed his eyes, glaring at his father. He still hasn’t gotten out of bed. The bruises on his face and body have started to fade, but the internal contusions were a different story. Dean hurt in places he didn’t even know he had. In fact, he could barely sit up straight for longer than five minutes without crying out in pain. That was what his father had asked him to do the last time he'd asked to go home.

"You're just mean, you know that?" Dean snapped, pouting. John smirked.

"Yeah, well think about it like that, if we went home, I'd be in your face twenty four-seven. At least here, they kick me out of the room when they're giving you those tests." He said, and Dean snorted.

"When's Sammy coming back?" Dean asked.

"Any minute now." John answered. "You want me to turn the TV on?"

"Why won't you just kill me? It'll hurt less." Dean said, sighing dramatically, still pouting, and John smirked again. He turned the TV on. Dean groaned.

"You should get some rest, kiddo." John noted, changing the channels. Oprah was on. He never realized the show could actually be interesting. He'd kill anyone who dared calling him on it, though.

"I should get a double cheeseburger with chilly fries and extra onions, that's what I should get." Dean grunted. "When's Sammy getting here? It's only three blocks away…"

"He'll be here any minute, Dean." John said, a little annoyed, "Stop whining. And he's not getting you any cheeseburgers. You heard what the doctor said, you're on a strict diet until your electrolyte thingies get better and your kidneys start working like they should." Dean shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"Just kill me now." He muttered.

"Keep bugging me, and I might." John added. Dean glared at him.

"Fine," he said petulantly, "last time I'm calling you when I need help." He muttered, and John cringed, swallowing hard, trying to ignore the tightening in his chest. He will never, ever, for the rest of his life, forget that phone call Dean made. He sighed, turning to his eldest and patting his leg.

"Dean," he sighed, "just a few more days, okay? Just wait till you can actually stand on your feet or sit up for more than ten minutes, or hell, just stay awake for longer then a couple hours…"

"I can stay awake." Dean protested.

"Dean…" he was testing John's patience, and John was not a man with much patience to begin with.

"I can!" Dean insisted.

"You're staying in the hospital!" John barked. "Now shut up and rest!"

"Yes, sir." Dean said resentfully. "Wouldn’t want you to miss your soaps…" he muttered under his breath, looking innocently at his father as the older hunter turned a murderous glare at him.

Dean was asleep again before Sam made it back in the room, which was a good thing, because John was pretty sure he was so going to rub his cheeseburger in his son's face. He still made yummy noises, though. John Winchester was definitely no saint.

"That's it, nice and slow." Said Derek, the physical therapist. Dean's persistence to go home hasn’t lessened over the next couple of days, and finally, someone was listening. Maybe not his father, but someone was listening. Today, finally, he was getting out of bed for the first time. Dean wanted to get out of the building, get some fresh air. Derek said they'll start with going to the bathroom and back first. Dean laughed at him. He was a Winchester after all, and the bathroom was only fifteen feet away. He'd stopped laughing, though, once he tried sitting up.

Just getting off the damn bed was exhausting, not to mention painful as hell, but the thought of going to the bathroom on his own made him grit his teeth and push on. He blinked, trying to get the world to stop spinning.

"Here, drink this." A Styrofoam cup was brought to his lips. He glared at Derek. He certainly did not need help drinking. With a shaky hand, Dean reached for the cup. "Whoa, easy." Derek was quick to catch him as Dean swayed on his feat. He leaned heavily against the bed, drenched in sweat, choking on the cold water. Sam took the cup away, looking worriedly at him. Dean smiled at the younger Winchester, trying to appear like his old, cocky, self-assured self. Apparently, he wasn’t doing so well. "You want to stop?" Derek asked, but Dean shook his head, wincing and closing his eyes.

"Just need a minute." He breathed, realizing Derek was still holding on to his shoulder. He was about to shrug him off, but realized Derek was probably the only thing keeping him on his feet. Dean cursed.

"It's okay, it's been a long time since you've been on your feet, it's natural that you'll feel dizzy." Derek said softly. Dean nodded lightly. "Just tell me when you're ready." Derek added. Dean nodded again, eyes still closed. He was really glad his father wasn’t there. Sam seeing him like this was bad enough.

"Okay, I'm ready." Dean said. Derek smiled at him.

"You sure you want to do this on your own?" he asked, and Dean nodded again, gripping the IV stand and trying not to appear like he was leaning on it as heavily as he was.

Dean gritted his teeth against the pain and the nausea, trying to ignore the world spinning around him and the fact that darkness was consuming more and more of his peripheral vision, and made it all the way to the bathroom. Drenched in sweat and breathing hard, he collapsed against the closed toilet and tried to catch his breath.

"That was good. It was very good," Derek said, and Dean glared at him, though he seemed far hazier than Dean remembered him. Dean was pretty sure there was supposed to be only one of him, and that he used to have a head and feet instead of weird smudges. "You want to try and drink some more?" Derek suggested. What the hell, he was already in the bathroom. Dean nodded, and Sam brought the cup of water over. Dean tried reaching for it, but couldn’t quite focus on it. He blinked, shaking his head trying to get the dancing dark spots to go away. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, hear the blood rushing. He dropped his hand, groaning.

"You okay?" Sam asked worriedly, "Here, drink." And suddenly, the cup was pressing against his lips. Dean took a sip, but he couldn’t swallow. He tried, but ended up choking and spitting the water on the floor, gasping for breath.

Derek quickly brought the wheelchair over and wheeled Dean back to the bed. He was saying things, Sam was saying things, but all Dean could hear was the rushing of his blood and the thrumming of his heart. He held on to consciousness as hard as he could. Something was placed over his mouth and nose, helping him to breathe. He felt someone ruffling his hair, and finally succumbed to his fatigue.

"But I made it all across the room!" Dean didn’t even hide the irritation in his voice.

"Yeah. And then you passed out." John pointed out flatly.

"You said if I could sit up, if I could walk across the room on my own…"

"Dean," John was tired of having this argument. It was a stupid argument, he had no idea why Dean was fighting him so hard. His son was not well, and as far as hospitals go, this wasn’t such a bad one. He couldn’t understand why Dean was being so difficult, so stubborn.

"I want to go home, Dad." John sighed, patting his son's leg.

"I know you do, kiddo." He said softly, and then sighed. Sam was off getting some sleep at the motel, and John was about to join him for the night. He got up and walked over to the door, closing it before returning to sit by his son's side. He hesitated for a moment, and Dean looked at him questioningly. John let out a deep breath. "Just you and me here, buddy." He said. Dean frowned, wrinkling his brow.


"No one's judging you, Dean. No one's gonna think any less of you." John started, and Dean grew restless, fear creeping over him.


"I need to know what happened, Dean. There's no one else here, just you and me. I need to know what happened, what did this to you." John pressed. Dean stared at him for a moment longer, as if waiting for something else, but his father just stared back. Dean gave a slight shake of his head.

"I already told you." he said.

"You said you don’t remember." John noted.

"I don’t." Dean said quickly, defensively.

"Dean, it's okay…"

"I don’t remember, Dad." Dean said pointedly, "I remember… I was talking to you before I headed for the house, and I… I think I was sweeping it for EMF, but I got nothing, and then…" Dean scratched his head, shaking it and shrugging. "I don’t know. It gets… fuzzy. I remember their eyes; black eyes. Like, all black, no pupils or anything, just black."

"Like a possession?" John asked. Dean nodded slightly.

"I think so. There was this woman… and…" he shook his head, trying his best to remember, "We were talking, I think. And, I don’t know. I think… I think I wasn’t supposed to be there, or I wasn’t supposed to be alone or something. It was a trap. And then they did something…" he shuddered, swallowing hard, not looking at his father.

"Did what?" John asked. "Did what, Dean?" he pressed.

"I'm tired." Dean said in a small voice. "And my head hurts. I think I'll go to sleep now."

"Dean, what did they do?" John pushed. Dean bit his lip, swallowing hard.

"I don’t remember." He said, trying his best to remain in control of his emotions, "I don’t remember, but…"

"But what?" Dean looked up at John, his eyes watering.

"But I don’t think they were done with me. I think… they'll come back for me." He said, admitting it for the first time. John stared at him quietly for a long moment.

"Not if I have anything to say about it." He said a moment later.

"You can't protect me here." Dean said in a voice so weak John had barely heard him. He squeezed his son's hand, finally understanding the urging need to come home.

"Watch me."

John spent the night watching his oldest sleep. He could still remember the last time he'd spent an entire night watching Dean sleep; it had happened a few years ago after a hunt that just went from bad to horrifyingly bad when, for no apparent reason, Dean had collapsed. No apparent reason happened to be his son hiding a high fever and stomach pains which later turned out to be acute food poisoning. John pushed the thought out of his mind, thinking instead of ways to protect his son.

Unfortunately, other then salting the room, he had no idea what else to do. Dean was right, there were too many people coming and going, the cleaning staff kept cleaning the salt away, and he had no idea what kind of spirit or demon he was dealing with. The house, or even a motel room, would be a better place to protect his boys. There he could use charms and draw protection symbols all around, plus he could control all the comings and goings - it would be safer.

The problem was, Dean still didn’t seem all right, he didn’t seem well enough to leave the hospital. He was still weak, still having trouble staying awake for long, and still hooked up to painkillers. And from the looks of him, he definitely still needed those. Dean's kidneys were getting better, but he was still getting some of his nourishment intravenously. Painkillers John could get, but healthy cooking? Monitoring Dean's blood work? It was a risk.

But Dean seemed determined, even insisting on trying to walk across the room again. It was a difficult choice to make. Either way could end up with Dean being hurt worse than he already was.

"Dad?" John snapped out of his musing at the sound of his son's voice.

"Hey, buddy. How're you feeling?" he asked with a slight smile. Dean blinked owlishly.

"What time is it?" Dean asked. John checked his wristwatch.

"Almost five." He said.

"In the afternoon?" Dean frowned, scratching at his cast-encrusted hand. John sighed. Dean was still out of it.

"In the morning." He said. "You should go back to sleep."

"Weren't you supposed to go back to the motel with Sammy tonight?" Dean asked.

"Sammy will be fine." John said.

"I don’t like him being alone in a motel. I mean, if he was going to bring chicks, then fine. But he's Sammy. He usually brings trouble if he bothers bringing anything at all." Dean said, closing his eyes again. John smiled.

"You bring more trouble than he does." He noted.

"Not more than I can handle." Dean said. At that John grinned.

"Well, your brother's tucked away in a motel room, sleeping peacefully right now. Remind me where you are?" Dean groaned.

"My stomach hurts." He said a moment later. John frowned.

"You want me to get a doctor?" he asked.

"Nah, probably all that hospital food. Guaranteed to make you sick." Dean said, shifting a little in bed. "Wouldn’t have that problem at home." He noted.

"Stop it." John snapped. Dean hissed when he tried shifting to his side.



"Thanks, for staying." Dean said in a small voice. John ran his hand through Dean's hair, ruffling it a little.

"Go back to sleep." He said, "The sooner you get better, the sooner you're out of here." Dean nodded, eyes closed, and John watched as he tried to shift again, wincing in pain. He'd asked the doctors to lower the dozes of Dean's pain medication – after all, it won't be available when they're back at the motel. It looks like he would have to ask them to get it back up.

The next day seemed to be a better day. Dean stayed awake longer, almost made it all the way to the bathroom and back, and seemed completely coherent. He told John he was feeling better, that getting out of bed was helping. Knowing his son, John knew it probably was. Dean always hated being still, being in one place for too long. It used to make him go nuts. Dean constantly needed to move, to constantly be doing something. He was trying, John knew. He worried Dean might be trying too hard, but on the other hand, he was glad to see his son improve, glad that his choice was made easier. He would speak to the doctor, get Dean out of this hospital and into someplace safe. John waited for as long as he could, watching Dean like a hawk all day, until finally that evening, just before Dean's doctor was about to leave herself, he told her he wanted to take his son home with him. Needless to say, she was not happy.

"Sir, I really think you're making a mistake. Dean really shouldn’t leave the hospital." Doctor Riley said.

"He's just lying there, right? I mean, he just has to stay in bed all the time and not eat any junk food, right?" the doctor sighed, glancing at the hopeful face of her young patient.

"Listen, Mr. Winchester, I know kids can nag and whine until you want to slap their mouths shut, but I really don’t think you should let him get away with it this time." She said, "I understand that Dean wants to go home, but I'll feel better if he stays here a few more days." Dean glared at her, but had the sense to keep quiet.

"His head injury is no longer a problem, correct?" John asked. The doctor sighed, but nodded reluctantly. "And his kidneys are doing better?"

"He still needs to be monitored, we need to test his blood to make sure…"

"Then I'll bring him back. Every day, to have his blood tested." John offered. Dean gave him a thankful look. Doctor Riley hesitated.

"He shouldn’t be moved."

"But I'm already walking," Dean interjected, "I can cross the room and back. I'm even having my cast taken off next weekend." He said quickly.

"I'll make sure he stays in bed, gets a lot to drink, lots of rest…" John nodded. Riley glanced at Dean again, and then sighed, scratching the side of her head.

"You do understand, getting him out of the hospital right now is a risk?" She said, "You will be taking him against medical advice, you realize that, right?" she asked.

"He needs rest, he can rest better at home." John said, though the doctor's look was starting to make him hesitate.

"He shouldn’t get out of bed without someone there to watch him, do you hear me?" she addressed the younger hunter, and then turned her gaze to the father. "He may look better, but he's still all bruised up from the inside. Moving too fast, it can create problems." She said sternly.

"I'll stay in bed, promise." Dean chimed in. John gave him a long look that said 'you will, and you'll give me no lip about it'. Dean nodded. Riley nodded back, exhaling loudly as Dean's lips broke in a grin.

"All right," she said, "I have to say, I'll be more relaxed if Dean stayed under observation a few more days, but… if there's nothing I can do to make you change your mind…"

"So I can get out of here? I can go home? Like, today?" Dean asked, and John nearly rolled his eyes, but then noticed Dean didn’t sound half as excited as he'd expected him to be. A glimpse in the boy's direction showed Dean was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and it was getting late…

"Mr. Winchester, I would urge you to reconsider. Caution is the best way of action in this case." Riley said, and Dean scowled at her through heavy lidded eyes. John nodded.

"He'll stay the night." He said, and Riley nodded, ignoring Dean's cry of protest.

"You're making the right choice." She said. John sighed, scratching at his beard.

"Yeah? You spend the night listening you him ranting on and on about going home…" he muttered. The doctor smiled at him.

"I can always throw in a stronger sedative." She offered, but there was no real need. Dean was already drifting off. John followed the doctor out of his son's room.

"Doctor Riley," he started, hesitating. The woman turned, looking quizzically at him. "If I take him home, he'll be okay, won't he?" John asked. She looked him up and down before she answered.

"Honestly? If he were my son, I'd tape his mouth shut and keep him here. He's not out of the woods yet." She said. John nodded. That wasn’t what he'd wanted to hear.


Where it all started >> 2 >> 3 >> 4 

Tags: , , , , , ,
Current Location: chair
Current Mood: indifferent indifferent
Current Music: Unwell - Matchbox 20

9 comments or Leave a comment
(Deleted comment)
sams1ra From: sams1ra Date: March 24th, 2007 06:43 pm (UTC) (Link)
You're right, who, or whatever's after Dean sure isn't finished with him... Can't say more for now ;)
idiot4dean From: idiot4dean Date: March 24th, 2007 06:06 pm (UTC) (Link)
Glad Dean told john why he wanted to get out of the hospital. While he's there he'll keep worrying about when they are going to come back for him.

Looking forward to more.
sams1ra From: sams1ra Date: March 24th, 2007 06:45 pm (UTC) (Link)
You know what they say; sometimes worrying is the right thing to do ;)
(Deleted comment)
sams1ra From: sams1ra Date: March 25th, 2007 05:41 am (UTC) (Link)
Thanks, glad you're enjoying this.
arianstarr From: arianstarr Date: March 24th, 2007 11:44 pm (UTC) (Link)
Great update!
sams1ra From: sams1ra Date: March 25th, 2007 05:43 am (UTC) (Link)
Thank you.
(no subject) - dairwendan - Expand
sams1ra From: sams1ra Date: March 25th, 2007 08:04 am (UTC) (Link)
lol =D
9 comments or Leave a comment