Chapter Text
Dean Winchester was screwed.
He really shouldn’t have gone so far. Dean would take it back if he could, hell yeah he’d take it all back. But there was no going back now.
There was only the jump. A leap of faith and then it would be in destiny’s hands.
Smoke filled Dean’s senses just as Donna called out to him.
“Dean!”
He could barely hear her, but he knew his call to her was futile. The flames had basically cut the townhouse in half.
And Dean was on the wrong half.
“Go, Donna! Get out!” Dean yelled over the flames. “That’s an order! Get the fuck out of here!”
Dean turned away before he could see Donna follow his orders. There was a bedroom window on the third floor that had a favorable drop. He had found it when he saved a toddler and his older sister just a few minutes earlier. They had been hiding in their closet, and he had reached them just before the flames creeped up to the third floor.
Now, the girl and her little brother were blanketed and safe on the street, but Dean had gone back inside to clear the house.And now, Dean was trapped.
If there was time, his team might’ve been able to get the ladder over to the window, but Dean doubted there would be a ladder to spare.
Dean huffed up the stairs of the townhouse, all of his gear weighing him down but keeping him from burning alive. His oxygen tank kept a steady stream of fresh air coming, but Dean still felt like he could feel the smoke coating his lungs.
When he made it to the bedroom window, he immediately knew his fate.
He could see that the fire had spread down the row of townhomes, and the four ladder trucks they brought were all in use, saving residents. Dean wasn’t about to call one over for himself, so he took a deep breath, and climbed out the window.
When Dean jumped, he aimed for the tallest tree nearby.
He missed.
***
”-amge to the right anterior iliac spine, as well as a shattered right femur and a compound fracture in the left.”
A deep, cavernous voice that Dean could just barely understand, began to float him towards consciousness. He sounded like Batman, a rich and sultry baritone that kind of scratched as it reached Dean’s ears.
Dean liked Batman.
“He has multiple broken ribs, one of which punctured his lung, but the lung has been repaired and his oxygen levels are stable now. His helmet protected his head for the most part, but there are a few small fractures in his neck, and he sustained a moderate concussion.”
Dean slowly pulled himself further from the pitch black of unconsciousness, and tried to focus on what he was hearing above him. He was in an incredible amount of pain and at some point he hoped Batman would do something about that.
“His right shoulder was completely dislocated and both the ulna and radius were broken in the fall. His left side did somewhat better, besides his femur. Aside from bruising, his left arm seems to be in working order.”
“Seems to be in order? Is that your professional opinion, Doc?”
If Dean was capable of such an action, he would probably roll his eyes at his Uncle Bobby’s less than pleasant bedside manner.
“Bobby.” Sam, Dean’s younger brother, spoke up. “They’re doing the best they can.”
“Yes.” The doctor replied. “We are doing everything possible for him. He fell in the worst position possible, with very heavy material on. We won’t know everything until he wakes
up.”
“And when do you expect that to happen?” Sam asked carefully.
Dean could hear the fear and worry in his voice, but it was hard to care too much about that when it felt like the entire right side of his body was on fire.
There was a tube down his throat, but Dean tried to talk anyway.
He tried to say, “How about now, Mr. Wayne?”
But instead it came out a garbled moan. Dean still hadn’t opened his eyes, but he heard everyone turn sharply and move towards him.
“Dean?!” Sam and Bobby said in unison.
“Mr. Winchester,” Batman joined in. Dean liked the way he said his name. “Don’t try to talk. I’m going to remove the tube now, okay?” Dean nodded stiffly, which hurt like hell. He still kept his eyes closed.
“Alright, I want you to try and swallow as I pull it out. Are you ready?”Dean nodded again.“One, two, three.”
Batman pulled the tube out of Dean’s throat and Dean gagged despite swallowing as he was told. The pain amplified as Dean coughed. His broken ribs didn’t like his body’s convulsions as he coughed, and his dry throat didn’t like it much better.
“Can you open your eyes for me, Mr. Winchester?”
Dean swallowed again and made his first attempt at opening his eyes.
The room was too bright and as he squinted them open, Dean saw a shadow move towards the window and close the blinds. The room fell into shadows, which made Dean feel more comfortable about opening his eyes all the way.
The first thing he saw were a pair of crystal blue eyes, with lines around their edges, staring back at him. The eyes were attached to a very handsome face, the kind that was full of both sharp edges and soft curves. On top of Batman’s face was a mop of messy brown hair.
“Call me Dean, Mr. Wayne,” Dean croaked.
Sam laughed at the edge of the hospital bed. Dean looked over to find his little brother staring back at him with a large smile on his face and shaking his head slightly.
“What?” Dean asked, trying to lift his hand to gesture but unable to do so. He panicked for a moment, before realizing it just took a little more effort than he was used to. Every part of his body felt like it was weighted with bags of sand, and Dean wondered if that had something to do with whatever pain medication he was on.
“Nothing,” Sam replied, still smiling. “How are you feeling?”
Dean tried to shrug, but grimaced instead.
Batman called for a nurse and Bobby came to the other side of the hospital bed.
“Everyone else make it?” Dean asked Bobby. He didn’t know how long he had been out, but Dean was sure it was long enough for an official casualty report.
“Two residents lost,” Bobby said slowly, then looked down at his hands. “And one of ours from the third district. Victor Drunsom.”
Dean squeezed his eyes shut. “Damn.”
When he opened his eyes again, it was to find a red headed nurse holding out a card to him. It had ten different faces depicting varying degrees of discomfort on their faces.
“Can you show me which of these best describe your pain level, Dean?”
Dean stared at the card for a moment and tried to give the nurse a good answer, but found himself thinking only about Victor and how much pain his family must be in. He didn’t know the man personally, but all firefighters were like family and losing one of them, even when you didn’t know them, really hurt.
Bruce Wayne stepped in.
“Dean, can you give us a number please? So we can manage your pain accordingly.”
Dean blinked away tears and tried to nod. “Seven. The one that looks like he might have stuck something up his ass he wasn’t ready for.”
Sam let out a snort and Bobby groaned and rolled his eyes. Batman looked like he wanted to smile, but it never got through.
“Aren’t you a charmer.” The nurse laughed. Her red hair fell along her shoulders and she pushed a hand through it. Dean thought she’d make a good Black Widow.
The Dark Knight gave Black Widow a new dosage of pain medication to administer, and she turned to the machines by Dean’s head to set them right.
“So, when can I get out of here Mr. Wayne?” Dean asked the doctor.
“Um,” The doctor began, eyes narrowed carefully, obviously trying to figure out Dean’s nickname for him. “My name is Doctor Novak. As for your prognosis, I was just going over that with your relatives. You’ve sustained-”
“Yeah, I heard the damage report.” Dean interrupted, his voice scratching uncomfortably.
Sam crossed the room and poured him a glass of water. Dean wanted to protest when he placed a straw in it and held it for Dean to drink, but Dean knew he was in no position to hold the cup himself. He drank until his throat no longer felt like it was on fire, just full of ashes instead.
“Well then, your timeline for your release will depend largely on your rehabilitation,” Batman continued. “I’d suspect at least four weeks here, then an eight week outpatient physical therapy program.”
“Jesus,” Bobby said, covering his eyes and lowering his head. Sam looked similarly distressed.
Dean began to feel lighter, though. His head started swimming with images of rainbow waterfalls and butterfly gardens.
“Um, Bruce?” Dean said dreamily. His eyes were getting very heavy and his words were starting to slur. “Would you take me for a ride on the Batmobile when I get out?”
Dean heard Sam laugh, but not the doctor’s reply.
The medication worked it's magic and Dean was back in the land of the unconscious.