Sara Lance | The Canary (thecanary) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2017-06-25 20:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, !completed gdoc, !log, ~2017 june, ~25 points, ~~sam winchester (fireinthesoul), ~~~~ sara lance (thecanary) |
Who: Sara Lance and Sam Winchester
What: Sammy’s back
Where: Alley behind Verdant and then Sara’s house
When: Sunday evening
Warnings: Mentions of blood, injury, character death
Status: Closed
He’d been shot so many times before that the pain was entirely familiar. Unfortunately the shot hit him in the leg, specifically in the knee, which made walking difficult. He’d suffered far worse, though, and he wasn’t going to let a stupid bullet in his leg slow him down.
Well, it slowed him down. That was unavoidable. His steps were awkward slow, and lumbered, but he managed. It just wasn’t going to keep him down. Especially since he was back in Madison Valley. Some part of him was sure it was a trick, the pain was so great that his mind was taking him to some other time and place to escape the reality of being shot, hog tied, and thrown in the back of a dirty kidnapper van…
Except he knew Madison Valley. He knew it as well as he knew the bunker in Kansas. He knew the streets, the businesses, the people. He knew he was in the alley behind Verdant, and he knew Sara worked at Verdant. Sara. Her image swam like a mirage before his eyes, so real he felt like he could reach out and touch her…
***
The past couple of months had been absolute shit for Sara what with getting kidnapped, her housemate dying and coming back as a demon and dying again, and her… whatever Sam was… getting sent home. Part of her wanted to hide under the covers and not talk to anyone again, but that wasn’t really her style. Even when she’d been shipwrecked, she had done whatever it took to survive. She wasn’t about to let this place take her down after surviving the Amazo, Lien Yu, and the League of Assassins.
Despite having been attacked twice in recent months in the alley outside her club, Sara still took the trash out to the dumpster herself when they were busy. Living in fear also wasn’t her style, though she was careful to always be armed with at least a knife these days. Just in case.
Her senses were on high alert, so when she heard someone stumbling nearby, she automatically reached for the blade as she looked for the source of the noise. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? That looked an awful lot like Sam moving towards her, obviously in pain. A quick glance showed her some blood on his leg. She really needed a new hobby because finding bloody Winchesters in allies wasn’t a good one.
Still, she was happy to see him and hoped he remembered the town and her. “Sam?” she asked, moving towards him with caution.
***
“Sara?” he questioned. He remembered her. He definitely remembered. Although some part of him wished he didn’t. Because remembering Madison Valley meant remembering how Dean had lost the battle with the Mark, how Dean had gutted him with The First Blade, how Dean had come back as a demon. Of course Dean had been a demon back home too. But it had been different in Madison Valley. In Madison, he’d terrorised the town, and Sam had been unable ti find and stop him, Sam had been unable to save him.
“I think I need help,” he said. He slumped against the wall, let his good leg give out so that he thudded to the ground in a less than graceful heap.
He’d focus on his leg now, and try to not think about Dean at all. Thinking about Dean hurt too much. He’d lost him too many times, in Madison and at home. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. Why did they always get the raw end of things? Why couldn’t they ever get the big win for once?
***
He remembered. That was a good thing. Sara rushed over and crouched down next to him, resisting the urge to throw herself on top of him and kiss him senseless. He clearly wasn’t in the shape for that kind of reunion.
“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” she asked. “Or if you can make it to my car, I’ll take you back to my house and patch you up.” She knew he hated hospitals and she could probably do a decent enough job of first aid if he preferred that.
***
“If you help me back up,” Sam said. He looked up at her, and his eyes had a slight twinkle. He wasn’t quite himself, he might never be without Dean, knowing that Dean was dead not only in Madison Valley but at home as well, but he’d find a way to continue living. “We can go back to the house.”
Without a knife sticking out of his gut, he would just as soon avoid the hospital. He didn’t want to go to the clinic either, because he’d probably see Adam and he wasn’t ready to see his other brother yet. Maybe tomorrow, after he’d rested and reacclimated to being back in Madison.
***
“I think I can manage that,” Sara said, shifting her weight so she could help him stand again and lean some of his weight on her. “Lucky for you, I park close.” And she had her keys in her pocket. Once she got him settled, she’d need to duck in and let someone know she was taking off early, but her staff had proven that they were more than capable of managing in her absence and Sam needed her right now.
“Do I even want to know how long it’s been for you or what happened?” she asked. “It’s only been a few days here.”
***
Sam winced as he got back up on his feet. He hopped, avoiding putting too much weight and pressure on his bad leg. He leaned on Sara a little more than he might lean on someone else. She was strong, resilient for as small as she was compared to him. He knew she could take his weight, especially when he was helping to bear the burden; he wouldn’t expect her to carry him.
It was a struggle to get moving, but they found rhythm. “It’s been a while. Not sure exactly how long. Time is...subjective. I went back to being half dead, from trying to cure Crowley. An angel tricked Dean into getting inside me, to heal me, but he was using me. He killed Kevin, it was a mess,” Sam said. Talking about it distracted him from the pain, both physical and mental because it took him to a different kind of mental anguish. He, ultimately, had caused Kevin’s death.
And then there was everything that happened after. Losing Cas. Dean going to Purgatory. Dean becoming a demon. The Mark of Cain. Working with Rowena. The Book Of The Damned. Losing Charlie. Unleashing The Darkness. Lucifer getting out of the cage. God’s return to earth. And ultimately, Dean sacrificing himself to destroy The Darkness, and leaving Sam alone. Alone to be ambushed in his own home, shot and kidnapped and dropped back in Madison Valley…
“And now I’m back here and Dean…” He shook his head. He shook his head and drew a breath as the car came into sight. The Impala. Dean’s car. Sam’s breath caught in his throat. “Fuck,” he murmured.He felt light headed, and his grip on Sara’s shoulder tightened. Too many memories attached to that damn car. It was as much a part of Dean as the skin that held him together in life.
***
Sara had no clue who Kevin and Crowley were, but apparently they were people that were important to Sam and Dean back home so she could understand why losing them would be difficult. It had been hard for her when Snart sacrificed himself for the rest of the Waverider crew.
“Sorry, I should have warned you,” she said, wincing slightly when he tightened his grip on her shoulder at the sight of the car. “It was still here after both of you weren’t and the keys were at the house, so…” She’d been using the Impala. It occurred to her, belatedly, that she probably should have reached out to Adam to see if he wanted the car and keep it in the family. Oh well, now that Sam was back, he had dibs.
The loss of Dean was still hitting her hard and she couldn’t even imagine how Sam felt. Especially if he’d had a chance to see his brother at home.
***
“No, it’s fine,” Sam said. If his voice was a little breathy, he’d blame it on the pain. Even though Sara knew he was highly emotional on a good day. “Just caught me off guard. Tell me you have a towel in there, though. Dean would kick my ass if I bled all over his baby.”
Sam didn’t cherish the car the way Dean did. He respected it, sure. It was their dad’s after all. It was a symbol of their childhood, of their lives as hunters, of their legacy. It was a symbol of all the things Sam hated, when it came right down to it, but his brother loved that car like it was a child, and Sam had to respect that, if nothing else.
“I’m losing blood pretty fast here. And the bullet’s still in my leg,” he told her. “We’re gonna need to get it out soon.”
***
So much for ducking back into the club and letting her staff know where she was. She’d send a text once they were in the car and on the way back to her house. Hopefully Sam wouldn’t bleed out before she got him back there and managed to get out the bullet and bandage his leg. She might need to call for help with that, but she’d see how it went before deciding.
“No towel,” Sara said. “But here’s an old sweatshirt.” She opened the back door and spread the shirt out. “Get in back here,” she said. “That way you can keep the leg up and hopefully slow the bleeding.”
Once he was settled, she got in the driver’s seat and wasted no time getting them back to her house. Luck was on their side and no cops pulled her over for failing to obey basic traffic laws.
***
Sam was still conscious when they reached the house, but he was fading fast. He struggled to get himself moving, to get out of the car. He was pretty sure he left blood stains on the seat, but he’d deal with that later.
Getting inside felt like an eternity, and he knew for sure he’d left a trail of blood on the floor. “So thirsty,” he said. His lips were dry. He felt like his head was swimming. It would be so easy to go to sleep, but he wasn’t sure he’d wake up if he let his eyes close.
***
“I’ll get you some ice,” Sara said. She didn’t want him to have anything in his stomach that might come back up when she performed her makeshift surgery. “And I’ll get my first aid kit. I might need help though.” It would probably be easier if he passed out and she didn’t have to worry about him thrashing around, but an alternative would be to get someone strong over here to help hold him down. She figured that Diana might be a good option if it came to that.
She helped him get settled on the sofa, not caring about getting blood on the floor or the furniture. They could clean that later. Right now, getting Sam stabilized was more important.
It didn’t take her long to get a cup with ice in it and the necessary medical supplies. Thank god she and Dean always kept their med kit well stocked because they both had a tendency to come home with injuries. “This is probably going to hurt,” she warned as she took out her knife and sliced open his jeans so she could see the wound. There was no time to sanitize the blade, but the bullet was easy enough to find and it only took a minute or two before she was able to dig it out.
***
How many times had Dean dug bullets out of Sam? Probably more than he could remember. He knew, more or less, how to keep still. It wasn’t easy, but he managed to brace himself until the makeshift surgery was done.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he shifted, and very nearly passed out. He reached for the cup of ice, and barely held onto it because his hand was shaking. He felt weak, pathetic, and grateful that he knew Sara wasn’t judging him for that.
***
Sara was definitely not judging him and she hoped he wouldn’t be upset if her stitches weren’t quite as straight as a doctor’s would be. “Worst part is over,” she said, grabbing a clean rag to soak up some of the fresh blood that started spilling out after the bullet was removed. “Just need to stitch you up now.”
There probably weren’t a lot of people in Madison Valley who were prepared to do this kind of thing in their living room. Lucky for Sam, he was found by someone who was. And someone who cared about him and wanted him to be well.
“I’m going to dump some rubbing alcohol on this first,” she said. “It’s gonna burn like a son of a bitch, but I’m trying to avoid infection.” She didn’t wait for any sort of acknowledgement from him before doing just that and immediately covering the area with a towel, pressing down hard to staunch the flow of blood.
***
Sam grit his teeth. He fisted both his hands, and growled through the pain. He didn’t care if the stitches were crooked, he was grateful Sara was doing them period. He didn’t want to go to the clinic or the hospital. He was glad she could take care of it all right there in the living room.
“I’ll pay for the cleaning,” he told her, once he was able to form words.
***
The last thing on Sara’s mind was cleaning up the blood. All she cared about right now was that Sam was back and she needed to keep him alive. Once she managed to slow his bleeding, she got out her suture kit.
“Just stay alive,” she said. “That’s payment enough.” After he’d disappeared, she realized that she had developed feelings for him over the past ten months since she got her soul back and they’d first hooked up. It didn’t feel like the right time to mention those feelings though, so she kept the thoughts to herself.
It didn’t take her long to stitch his wound. When she finished, she offered him a hopeful smile. “I think I’m done. Want me to see if I can rustle up some painkillers? Or a good bottle of whiskey?”
***
“It’ll take more than a bullet in the leg to kill me,” Sam said. He’d died from worse, it was true. But he was pretty sure this wasn’t going to be the end of him.
He lifted his head, at her suggestion and gave her a crooked smile. “How about whiskey and painkillers?” He could probably benefit from a few hours zonked out. He could definitely benefit from a few hours sleep.
***
It probably wasn’t safe to mix booze and pills, but Sara figured that if she kept an eye on him, there was no harm in letting him crash hard for a while. “Why don’t get get you upstairs to my room first,” she said. “That way you can at least get comfortable.”
She stood and reached out to help him up from the sofa. “Just be careful. Don’t rip those stitches.”
***
Of course it wasn’t safe to mix pills and booze, but it wasn’t the first time Sam had occasion to self medicate. He was a Winchester, after all. Self medicating was kind of a normal state of being for him.
He leaned heavily on Sara, but with respect to the fact that he had one good side, and could carry some of his own weight. Getting up the stairs was an interesting feat, and quite a challenge, but they managed it. Eventually he was laying in the bed, anticipating the bliss of the self medicating black out.
He entirely trusted Sara to keep him safe, otherwise he would have remained downstairs on high alert, ready to fight despite the searing pain in his leg.
***
As soon as he was settled in the bed, Sara went to find the bottle of painkillers she had in her medicine cabinet from Sam’s last hospital stay. A quick trip to the kitchen and she was back with a bottle of cold water and a bottle of good whiskey that Dean had stashed in one of the kitchen cabinets.
She sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, making sure not to jostle his injured leg, and handed him a couple of pills and the bottle of water first.
***
He took the pills and the water gratefully. “Thank you,” he said after he’d swallowed the pills and taken the whiskey from her. “I know he’s gone. He’d died back home too,” he added. “He sacrificed himself to save the world.” because that’s what they did. That’s what always seemed to happen. It always seemed to come down to one or the other, or both of them, in a position to be sacrificed to save the world.
On the one hand, Sam was insanely proud to call Dean his brother, Proud of what he’d over come, proud of what he’d done, proud of what he’d given up his life for. But on the other, on the more selfish side of things, he was pissed. He just wanted his brother back, he wanted Dean alive and whole and by his side the way it was always meant to be. He didn’t know how to function without Dean there...somewhere.
“I miss him,” he admitted, and he would swear it was the pain making his voice quiver with emotion.
***
Sara scooted closer so she could put her arm around his shoulders. “I miss him too,” she said. “And I missed you. A lot.” Now that they had him relatively put together, she figured she could indulge for a moment before he passed out, so she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.
Selfishly, she was glad that he was back in town, even though it was going to be hard for both of them to adjust to life without Dean. Hopefully they could help each other get through it.
“Do you want me to let anyone else know you’re back yet?” she asked.
***
Sam indulged in the kiss for a moment. He followed it with a sip of the whiskey then settled back against Sara. “No. Not yet. The kids will need to know. And Pamela. My boss, probably. Unless I quit.” He’d worked at the Electric Lady for more than three years, and had a good relationship wth his boss there, but…
“And Adam. Both of them.” His brother and his room mate. But he’d deal with them both later. He wasn’t sure he could face his brother especially, right away. “Right now I just want to lay here with you until I pass out.” Which wasn’t going to take long
***
“You can come and work at Verdant if you want,” she offered. Maybe it was an impulsive offer and would blow up in her face because of her feelings, but Sara had an urge to keep him close now that he was back.
She took the bottle of whiskey from him so she could have a swig and then handed it back to him. “I’ll stay close tonight. Whenever you’re ready to let people know, I can send a message. And I’ll see about getting you a phone again too.”
***
“Maybe tomorrow.” The words were slurred a bit, but Sam didn’t care. He shifted and sighed and pulled Sara against him.
He attempted another drink of the whiskey but mostly spilled it all over himself. He hardly noticed.
***
Sara took the bottle from him and set it on her nightstand. He wasn’t going to be conscious much longer and she didn’t want him to spill all over himself or her bed.
When he pulled her closer, she sighed and snuggled against him. This felt right. After a few long moments of silent contentment, she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “I love you.” The words were spoken softly and she wasn’t sure if he would hear them, but it made her feel better to have said them.
***
If he heard her, the only indication was a soft sigh. His arms tightened around her then went slack. He went entirely slack within a couple of seconds, his chest moving with light but even breaths.
***