"Bring the stretcher!"
Sam came to his senses at that shout. He carefully opened his eyes, but he was greeted with blurriness. After a few blinks his vision cleared: a man was kneeling beside him, behind an ambulance's sirens were flashing. Sam tried to lift his head up but pain struck into it, causing a moan to break out. The man turned towards the source of the sound right away.
"Hey, buddy" he spoke with a soothing tone. "Everything's gonna be alright, just don't move! Okay?"
A woman then appeared: another paramedic. Between the two of them they carefully, not to jar anything, lifted Sam up from the steering wheel and attached a brace around his neck. They cautiously pulled him from the driver's seat and laid him on the stretcher. As soon as he was strapped, they began to roll him towards the ambulance.
"What happened?" Sam asked with a bit of slur, still dazed from everything. He grimaced now and then from pain flaring up in his body.
"A motorist noticed the car" the woman replied. "He stopped immediately to look if the driver was still alive, meanwhile calling us. You had a huge luck."
"Why?" Sam asked as they stopped. He was put into the back of the ambulance and the paramedics sat beside him.
"The front of the car is completely crushed" the man answered now, hitting the wall of the ambulance two times, signing that they can go. "That could only happen with great force. That's why you shouldn't race on the road in the middle of the night."
Sam felt a couple of tears roll down his temple, as the events from the day came back to him.
"You wouldn't understand" he whispered shakily. The paramedics stopped for a moment in their job and looked at the boy sadly. The woman finally caressed the boy's face gently.
"We're taking you to the hospital for examination" she said quietly. The rest of the trip was filled with silence.
In the hospital everything happened so fast that Sam's dazed mind couldn't even grasp and register it. Arriving at the building he was rolled inside, where a bunch of unknown doctor-speech flew back and forth above him. After he was moved into a room, the examination began. Sometime during the trip there, they asked his name, to which he hazily answered: Sam Morgan. His next clear memory is him sitting in the waiting room, covered with a blanket. In front of him a doctor gave him a painkiller and a glass of water. Sam took the pill then pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.
"Sam!" a deep, worried voice broke through the crowd. Sam looked up to catch his father running to him. Bobby was almost flying from relief that his son was alright and uninjured. He quickly plopped down next to the boy and pulled him into his arms.
"I finally got you, my little boy" Bobby sighed, his eyes tearing up from happiness. "The police couldn't find you anywhere for a whole month then a call comes from the hospital that you had an accident… I was so worried, my sweet baby boy…"
Hearing the babbling, Sam held onto his father firmly, burying his face into the crook of the man's neck, letting the rocking sooth his mind. Bobby felt the tremble of the boy and he began shushing him. He couldn't stop caressing his baby boy's tresses and back, his heart filling with joy that just a father can feel after he sees his son for the first time in a long time. He felt cold liquid drip down his neck and knew his boy was scared out of his mind. He wanted to take him away from here, just to take him home and watch out for him, to know he's alive and alright. But this plan was squashed by two men stepping to them: police officers.
"Excuse me, Mr. Morgan" one of them spoke up softly. "We just have some questions to your son about his disappearance."
"My son just went through a horrible trauma" Bobby growled protectively, "and you want to bring up another?"
"Dad" Sam breathed, pulling away slightly. "It's okay." The boy turned his tear-streaked face towards the officers, listening attentively.
"Can you tell us what happened?" the officer asked, while his partner began to take notes.
"I was coming home from a meeting with my friends" Sam explained, his voice a bit hoarse. "It was nighttime. When I stepped into my house from the garage, I heard a crash. I took my gun out and looked for the intruder, but just found the glass shards on the floor and an open window in the kitchen. Just as I finished cleaning up, the intruder grabbed me and injected me with some drug that made me sleepy. Next thing I know I'm tied to chair and he's bringing food in."
"He?" the officer interrupted briefly. "A man?"
"Yes" Sam breathed dejectedly, as he remembered the day. "Name's Dean."
"Did he hurt you?" the officer asked. Sam saw his father tense up.
"He…" the boy swallowed, deciding to keep the truth to himself. "Just slapped me… When I was bad… He did everything to keep me by his side… Locked me in the room…"
"And how could you escape?" the officer asked softly. Sam opened his mouth to answer, but instead he bended forward and started retching violently. A trash can was placed before him, just as his dinner came back for a visit. He felt his father's warm hand brush his bangs back from his forehead and his arm wrapping around the shaking shoulders. After Sam finished, his wildly trembling hand came up to his mouth, muffling the soft, louder crying that broke out of the boy. He barely heard his father's angry words, as the man sent the officers away then he was helped up.
"It's okay, baby boy" Bobby whispered to his distraught son. "We're going home now. It'll be alright."
Sam was leaning against his father as he staggered out of the hospital with him. Soon they were walking in the cool night towards the parking lot and Bobby escorted Sam to his car. Settling his son into the passenger's seat, he rushed around the front to the driver's side. Just as he buckled himself in, Sam lowered himself onto the seat, his head on his father's lap, seeking the comfort. Bobby started the engine and drove home one-handed, his other hand resting on the brown locks.
The next morning found the Morgans in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Bobby just came into the house, taking care of the towing of the Impala. The old girl just arrived into the scrap yard of his old friend, who looking at the wreck, just shrugged and began to work on her, just like on an ordinary job. Bobby gave a relieved sigh; at least Sam's baby will be fine. The boy would be crushed if the last thing that remained of his father was irretrievable.
With a shake of his head, Bobby walked up the stairs to check on his son. After they'd arrived home, Sam had all but collapsed into his bed and fallen into a restless sleep. Before Bobby had gone out, the man had looked in on him and the boy had been still sleeping. This time, as he reached the door to peek in, he saw Sam clearly awake, hazel orbs gazing out the window unseeingly, a hand rising to his neck. It looked like the boy just woke up. When the fingers reached their destination, Sam's face crumpled and he buried it into his pillow, his body wracked with harsh, silent sobs.
As Bobby watched closely, he realized that the boy was expecting to find something on his neck, but it didn't happen. Bobby remembered that the previous night a nurse had given him a leather collar, which had been found on Sam's neck after taking off the brace. The object was in Bobby's jacket pocket; for some unknown reason he decided to keep it. He just had a hunch not to throw it away.
Seeing that his son calmed down some, Bobby quietly stepped into the room and to the bed.
"Hey, kiddo" he spoke softly, sitting on the side of the mattress. "How you doing?"
"Why?" Sam breathed almost inaudibly. Bobby frowned at that, but a second later he understood: Sam wasn't talking to him.
"Sam" he raised his voice a bit and Sam looked at him at last. The older man's heart broke some more seeing the teary-eyed puppy-dog look that usually meant the boy desperately tried to understand something. "How about some breakfast? I'm sure you're hungry."
"No" Sam hiccupped. "Just… I want to be alone… Just for s-some time… Please, Daddy…"
Bobby felt that damned stinging behind his eyes and the slowly growing pressure around his throat at that.
"Just don't make me lose you" he whispered and pressed a loving kiss on the boy's temple.
Sam waited until his father left the room then he let out a small, pathetic sniff. His heart had already been shattered since he found Dean in the motel room packing, but the small shards just kept breaking as the seconds ticked by. He just wanted that strong arm around his waist, the pleasant warmth against his back, even breaths caressing the back of his neck, accompanied by soft snores. Every fiber of his body was longing for that certain man to be there next to him in every moment, but he was steadily crushed under the weight of the fact that that person won't come back to him, breaking the shards inside him into tinier pieces. And as the deafening quiet surrounded him with huge pressure, Sam broke down completely.
Bobby was downstairs, getting ready to make breakfast at least for himself, when he heard it. An anguished cry coming from upstairs. Before he could rush up, he noticed some words amongst the sobs: 'Why?', 'Please!' and the least expected one was 'Dean'. The name of his son's kidnapper. As the cries rose in volume, turning into screams, Bobby just turned back to the kitchen to pack away, losing his hunger from the suffering his boy had to go through and the effort it took to respect Sam's wish to be left alone.
Stars filled the inky-black sky, all of them visible in the clear night. It was already after midnight, but the lamps were still on in the living room of the Morgan house. Bobby was just standing up from the couch to go check in on his son. Sam's screams and cries lasted the whole day, filling the house with anguish and sorrow. Bobby couldn't understand what was going on with the boy, but he had a strong suspicion, which should have been a huge nonsense. But as the hours went by with no redemption, that theory was more and more plausible.
Bobby still remembered the loss of his wife after all these years. As Sam's cries slowly churned his heart and stomach, he could relate to the emotions in the boy's voice, since he himself had gone through them at the death of Karen. But he just couldn't understand how come Sam's grieving the bastard that held him captive for weeks as the love of his life? The only thing that came to his mind is that something had happened during that time, changing everything. As Bobby started towards the stairs, he thanked every higher being that his son had finally calmed down. Bobby was already going stir crazy because he couldn't go soothe his baby boy.
When he got to the slightly ajar door, he could make out Sam's huddled form on the bed, covered with a blanket, long arms hugging a pillow for comfort. Bobby silently crept into the room to take a better look at him.
Sam was finally sleeping, thank God. His breathing was somewhat even, the air whistling through a stuffed nose and hitching slightly from time to time. The tears were slowly drying up on flushed cheeks, his closed eyes were puffy and red from crying so hard. His brown locks were damp with sweat, the bangs sticking on the pale forehead. Bobby carefully tucked the blanket around his son's small, curled up form, giving him a childish, vulnerable look. The man never thought that he would see his boy so broken in his life. He pressed a soft kiss on Sam's temple, freezing for a moment, when Sam whimpered and shifted, nuzzling the pillow in his arms. One or two tears escaped the closed lids and a frown furrowed into the boy's brow before smoothing out.
Bobby straightened up and crept out of the room, letting his son have a well-deserved sleep after all of this. With a heavy heart he went to bed, too.