SPN: Just Like Summer Rain {Sam+Dean}
Title: Just Like Summer Rain
Author: aerithqoc
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None (Pre-series)
Warnings: Mild language and possible medical inaccuracies.
Word Count: 3300
Disclaimer: None of the characters, places or things mentioned in this fic belongs to me.
Summary: The first time Dean saw his little brother having a severe asthma attack, body shaking, barely breathing and struggling to stay awake in his father’s arms, he promised himself he would never let Sam get that bad again. But things don't always work out the way we hope.
A/N: Written for the Summer of Sam Love 2011 for dontknowmyname's prompt: “Sam hasn’t had an asthma attack in years and doesn’t carry an inhaler anymore. Wherever he is, Dean’s not exactly close by but someone goes and finds him. Dean can either have an inhaler on him (just in case, cause he’s awesome) or he could coach Sam through the attack and help calm him down.” I adored both prompts I was given but protective and awesome big brother Dean wins my soul! This did come out a lot angstier than I had first intended but anyway, I hope this is close to what you had in mind and that you like it hun :)
Title taken from the song "Breathe You In" by Kurt Nilsen
~ * ~ * ~
The first time it happened, Sam remembered that he had been scared shitless.
His class had just been running laps in gym, nothing out of the ordinary and Sam had been ahead quite easily, again nothing out of the ordinary. But all too soon he had fallen behind, coughing and losing speed fast. Then his heaving chest suddenly constricted and tightened and Sam panicked. He had fallen on his knees, begging for breath whilst his gym coach shouted for someone to get the nurse.
It was more severe than a school nurse could contend with.
His father had been first to Sam’s side to bring him to the hospital and Sam’s automatic response of “What about Dean?” had tapered off quickly at the scowl on his father’s face, dark and ominous.
It was worry, veiled of course.
It was only after an abundance of testing and enquiries about family medical history he had been told he had touch of asthma, given a prescription and sent on his way.
John had just sighed, relieved, whilst Sam felt his entire world crumble a little.
It was horrifying to him to suddenly be told that, even though it was “only a touch”, he had asthma.
Sam had wondered what this would mean in his life of running laps and sparring with his brother for a purpose he had not yet been allowed to understand and would lament over when he was finally told. Sam had tried hard not to think of what Dean would say to him when he found out, if Dean would tease him or if he would coddle him like he was made of glass.
And then, of course, there were the bullies at school who were already picking on him for being the new kid and excelling in his grades. Walking around with an inhaler would just give the student body more ammunition to use against him.
Sam’s fretting was made all the worse when they got back to that ramshackle of a house that John had situated his family in and Sam got his first glimpse of the giant instrument his father had picked up from the drugstore.
It wasn’t just a little blue tube like Sam had thought it would be, although there was also a blue tube and a brown one there as well. It was a giant, plastic cylinder called a “spacer”, his father had told him as he jabbed one of the inhalers into the slot in the device and presented to him the other side with the mouthpiece on it.
“It’s just until you get used to it.” John Winchester had said with an eerie calmness in his voice. It was his serious voice but more so than that, it was his concerned voice. And Sam had always hated that voice.
He’d rather hear his father furious and barking orders than to hear him just be his dad and worried as hell. Especially if it was over him, Sam couldn’t handle that.
Sam had wanted to say something to him, to shout that he wasn’t a child, anything to stop that horrendous guilt. But he was cut off when he felt his chest tightening again, his throat shrinking and he began a horrible wheeze that brought humiliated tears to his eyes and his dad had been right there holding him against his chest, one hand on the spacer and the other gently holding him close.
John had hushed him like he was nothing more than a little child and at the time, Sam had never fell as scared. He had fallen backwards, eyes roving around the room and dizzyingly looking at everything for a solution in near panic when the attack became worse.
But John had just kept hushing him and pushing the mouthpiece of the spacer towards him and pressing down on the top of the inhaler.
“Come on Sammy, just breathe. It’s okay. Just breathe.” Sam did breathe as carefully as he could manage and the little plastic piece in the spacer breathed with him, with the same repetitiveness as those respiratory machines he had seen in the hospital too many times.
But it had helped. His chest stopped heaving and his throat stopped tightening. His body struggled less and John had sighed in relief for a moment and rubbed Sam’s back soothingly.
“That’s it Sammy, nice and easy. Just breathe. That’s it.”
Somewhere in the midst of his second attack of that day, the door had slammed open and silence reigned from it. Sam, too exhausted and sore, did not notice. It was only when a blank face had appeared at his side and a clammy hand gripped his tight, did Sam realise his older brother was finally home.
Sam remembered that part fondly.
Dean’s eyes had been fierce and alive with anxiety and resolve. Protective, as he took over for his father’s duties with the spacer.
Sam had looked at his brother with a smile, his body automatically calming down at Dean’s presence by his side and his eyes had slipped closed.
It had made Sam feel content to relax knowing his big brother was beside him, keeping him safe. Not for the first time, and not for the last either.
~ * ~ * ~
The first time it happened, Dean remembered that he had been scared shitless.
Dean recalled sprinting the entire half a mile home after school.
He had only found out from the secretary after the bell rang that she’d gotten a call that John wouldn’t be able to pick Dean up after school because his little brother had been brought to hospital but it was all okay, Sam was home again and fine, and there was no need to worry.
Those teachers obviously hadn’t known a single, damn thing about him if they had thought a simple “it’s okay, nothing to worry about” would calm Dean Winchester down when the words “Sam” and “hospital” were used in the same sentence.
Enraged at having not been told and still excruciatingly worried about his brother and what could’ve been so wrong he had been brought - rushed to hospital, Dean had made a beeline straight to that rundown excuse for a house they were staying in to see Sam and then rant at his father.
The second the house came into view, Dean smashed open the door and snarled out for John, not dad or sir or anything respectful like he should’ve said, in his rage he had shouted “John”.
But his words fell into a noiseless gasp as he watched his father hold his brother tenderly whilst his brother was... breathing into a plastic thing and clearly in no fit state to even properly hold himself up.
Dean had simply watched, frozen in horror and unable to get the lingering murmur of the words “there’s nothing to worried about” out of his head, because that was definitely something to worry about.
When John finally looked up at Dean, still frozen in the doorway, he had quickly beckoned him over. Dean had walked quickly but sank slowly to the floor beside them, almost afraid of doing anything except tentatively grasping Sam’s hand. Sam had given him a toothy grin like it was all fine but his expression was weary, exhausted.
Then the thing, the spacer, was being handed to Dean.
“Dad?”
“You’re going to have to learn to do this, son. Just in case. Just listen and do exactly what I tell you.”
Dean had, fearfully, held the thing in two hands and pushed the tab on the inhaler every time his father told him to until he caught the rhythm himself.
He had understood the concept without being told, no matter how foreign the idea was when connected to Sam. Perhaps if he had heard the news when Sam was pouting and grumbling over it, Dean would’ve taken it better, maybe even given his little brother a little teasing about it.
But coming in on Sam, unable to breathe, propped up against a worried John Winchester’s chest and breathing into that thing - No, there wasn’t anything funny about that. It had been downright horrifying.
And Dean made a promise to himself, then and there, that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure it never happened again.
~ * ~ * ~
It had been years since Sam’s last attack and Dean was more than glad he had managed to keep his promise.
Possibly just an infection, the doctor had said and Dean had chuckled at how quickly Sam had agreed as long as it meant the inhaler stayed at home.
Still, it had lasted a long time and Dean had been extra cautious around Sam during that time, waiting for the moment he started coughing and heaving again and it had annoyed Sam a lot. In retrospect, Dean could see why. Every sigh from Sam had Dean shoving an inhaler at him.
But that was years ago now, Sam was doing a lot better and Dean had been willing to agree that it was just an infection and nothing more.
Although really, sometimes he considered that it was Sam’s complete pigheadedness that forced it away because his brother had refused to slow down an inch in training or in school despite his asthma. His little brother could seriously be as stubborn as a mule sometimes. Admirable, but stubborn.
Yet the fear that it wasn’t just an infection still lingered in Dean’s mind, the fear that he would come up and Sam would be lying on the ground barely alive or that there would be another call that he was in the hospital for those chest pains again.
That was why the second the door slammed open in the middle of his Biology class and a kid three years his junior entered the room, Dean Winchester knew exactly what was going on.
Mrs Hughes was demanding answers for the interruption and all she got was the frantic response of, “I’m looking for Dean Winchester.”
The second his name was uttered, Dean was out of his chair like a shot, eyes tearing the new arrival apart as he himself demanded answers.
“It’s your brother - it’s Sam, he’s in the third floor boy’s bathroom, something’s wrong with him-”
Dean didn’t need more than that, he was already out of his seat, knocking it so fast he was sure that clattering was the sound of it toppling over, not that he cared, nor did he care about the stupid sound of his teacher about hall passes and other crap like that.
He was shooting up the stairs, taking them three at a time as he launched himself towards the third floor bathroom.
Dean slammed into it like a man on a mission and it horrified him to no end to see Sam like that, to see his proud, strong, annoying, little brother just lying there and breathing far too fast.
There was a kid sitting beside him and it looked like he’d been trying to prop him up but Sam, in his terror, had slipped downwards and was lying half on the floor clutching his chest and taking deep breaths, devoid of oxygen.
And neither of them had inhalers with them.
“Get out.” Dean snarled, moving towards Sam and he heard the boy stutter and it served to irk him even more. “I said get out!”
The boy scrambled outside, saying something about getting the nurse, until they were alone together and Dean immediately scooped Sam up into his arms, resting his back against Dean’s chest and lightly placing a hand upon Sam’s heaving chest.
“Hey hey hey Sammy - Sammy. It’s me, it’s Dean. I’m right here. Right here.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed like perhaps he heard that and his sweaty hands gripped Dean’s jeans.
“Just listen to me. Listen. I need you to calm yourself down. Breathe with me, Sammy. Okay?” He took a deep, measured breath that ended up gently pushing Sam forward and back against him. “Feel that? I need you to breathe with me, Sammy. Come on. Nice and slow.”
Sam’s body lurched quickly and his head shook back and forth.
He wasn’t calming down at all and Dean was beginning to feel his own panic setting in. His mind was flung backwards in time again, back to the first attack he had seen and it made Dean really wish that their father was here to help instead of off hunting those ghouls. John would’ve been able to handle this no problem.
Not the time - focus! Sam needs you!, his mind scolded him and he shook his head.
“Sammy, you gotta listen to your big brother. I’m here. I’m here. You’re not alone. You hear me?” Sam managed a long shaky nod and Dean felt like crying in relief, even though Sam had almost head butted his nose with that nod.
“Just slow down and breathe with me Sam, okay? Slow, deep breaths in.” Sam managed a short inward gasp, his hands gripping Dean’s jeans. “And out.” And Sam choked out a breath.
The nurse burst in at that moment, ready to take over but Dean gave her a hostile look that said he had it under control.
“Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out...”
The breaths were getting deeper, less erratic and Sam’s shaking form was finally beginning to settle down.
“Sammy, listen to me. I want you to lift your arms above your head, can you do that for me?”
Sam nodded against him and somehow managed to unfurl his hands from Dean’s jeans and lifted them up, shaky but they went up and stayed up.
“You’re doing great Sammy, that’s it. Just keep breathing with me. Nice and slow. In... and out... in... and out... in... and out...”
And Sam was doing great. Dean was so proud of his brother right then and there for staying cool and strong throughout what was undoubtedly a terrifying experience. It had terrified Dean and he hadn’t been the one unable to breathe.
“S’okay, Sammy. It’s okay. You’re fine. You’re fine.” Dean whispered softly in his ear as Sam finally calmed down and his breathing evened out.
“Dean?” Sam managed to whisper though it sounded weak to both their ears. Dean sighed in relief, falling forward and burying his face in Sam’s hair.
“Yeah it’s me.” Sam was breathing in perfect rhythm with him and it made Dean sigh again. “Don’t... don’t scare me like that again, kiddo.”
“S’ry.” Sam wheezed out in response, leaning backwards like he was ready to go to sleep and Dean was content to let him lie back there now that is breathing seemed stronger than before.
It was no time at all until the paramedics arrived, having been told a student was having a major asthmatic attack that seemed inconsolable. Apparently though, it had actually been consoled.
It took a few, long check-ups that kept them until long after the last bell had rang as well as an unbreakable promise to visit the doctor for a further check-up and they were gone again and Dean was finally given permission to take Sam home.
Dean was taking no chances after that, even though their motel was only a couple blocks away, it was a couple blocks too many for the exhausted Sam. He dished out the cash in his pockets for a cab and the second they got to the Green Valley Motel, Dean was nearly carrying Sam in through the door, a move he was sure a more alert Sam would have scowled at him about.
Instead, Sam simply allowed Dean to lead him to his bed and help prop his body upright against the headboard.
“I don’t think we have any honey or ginger... gotta get some later...” Dean mumbled as he disappeared into the kitchenette, trying to remember every home remedy for asthma he had learned over the years. He suddenly snapped his fingers in revelation before going to the fridge and pulling out a can of Mr Pibb.
“Here you go, Sammy. You know the drill.” A caffeine boost seemed to help Sam during these times and Sam took the drink and sipped it as many times as he could before abandoning it and leaving it for his big brother to place safely on the nightstand.
“So, what happened back there anyway? What brought all that on?” Dean finally asked, taking a seat on the bed beside Sam.
“Kevin Rafferty.” Sam whispered and Dean automatically clenched his fist. He’d heard all about that little punk who liked nothing more than picking on every person who looked at him the wrong way.
He did that to Sam. “I’ll kill him.”
“No. My fault anyway.” Dean’s jaw dropped incredulously. Sam just smirked and rolled his eyes at him, clearly not surprised by Dean’s reaction. “Had a coughing fit and went to the bathroom after Kevin and the rest ganged up on me and I uh... well I may have gone a little overboard... um, defending myself.”
Dean blinked and his mouth curved into a grin as he imagined the look on those bastards faces when little Sammy suddenly - finally - turned the tables on them. Dean ruffled Sam’s sweat drenched mop of hair and chuckled to himself, immensely proud of his brother for standing up against that stupid bully.
“That’s my boy.”
Sam smiled timidly. “Thanks Dean... for being there for me earlier.”
“Of course. What’re big brothers good for, anyhow?” Dean said with a grin and a wink and it made Sam huff a laugh which suddenly broke out into a yawn.
“Hey Dean? I’m kinda tired. Mind if I snooze?”
“Ah, okay then.” Dean murmured as Sam simply toed off his shoes and shrugged his jacket off before dipping under the covers.
Dean leaned forward, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulling him back against his chest again, a gentler parody of events from earlier that day. If Sam had been more energetic, that look he gave Dean would’ve seemed a lot more outraged.
“I’m staying right here, Sammy. Whether you like it or not, so deal.”
Sam said nothing more but he didn’t glare again either, just decided to nestle down and bear with it because Dean was not going anywhere. Sam was here and alive in front of him and it quelled the persistent fear within him. Dean had assumed he had gotten over it but today it just served to remind him that if he wasn’t there... Sam may have... might not have...
He tried not to dwell on that. There was a nurse there and the paramedics had made it quick enough so even if he wasn’t there... but he was there. He had helped. Sam was still alive and he was there.
Dean unconsciously squeezed Sam’s shoulder tighter and Sam turned his head up at him, blinking.
“Get some rest, Sammy.” He smiled down at him and Sam peered at him curiously before setting down again. “Cos the second you wake up? We get to try out all those home remedies again! Remember the garlic milk? Yummy!”
Sam growled and Dean gave him a completely innocent look and told him again to go to sleep. Sam did, wordlessly. It took an entire six minutes but soon Sam was out like a light, drooling peacefully on Dean’s AC/DC t-shirt.
Dean didn’t do anything about it though. He just closed his eyes, his smile wavering downwards and his hands trembling as they gripped Sam perhaps a little too tightly.
His brother slept on, blissfully unaware.
It made Dean want to laugh but all that came out was a quiet sob and he shook his head, ignoring the sting behind his closed eyes.
“See? Nothing to worry about...”
Author: aerithqoc
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None (Pre-series)
Warnings: Mild language and possible medical inaccuracies.
Word Count: 3300
Disclaimer: None of the characters, places or things mentioned in this fic belongs to me.
Summary: The first time Dean saw his little brother having a severe asthma attack, body shaking, barely breathing and struggling to stay awake in his father’s arms, he promised himself he would never let Sam get that bad again. But things don't always work out the way we hope.
A/N: Written for the Summer of Sam Love 2011 for dontknowmyname's prompt: “Sam hasn’t had an asthma attack in years and doesn’t carry an inhaler anymore. Wherever he is, Dean’s not exactly close by but someone goes and finds him. Dean can either have an inhaler on him (just in case, cause he’s awesome) or he could coach Sam through the attack and help calm him down.” I adored both prompts I was given but protective and awesome big brother Dean wins my soul! This did come out a lot angstier than I had first intended but anyway, I hope this is close to what you had in mind and that you like it hun :)
Title taken from the song "Breathe You In" by Kurt Nilsen
~ * ~ * ~
The first time it happened, Sam remembered that he had been scared shitless.
His class had just been running laps in gym, nothing out of the ordinary and Sam had been ahead quite easily, again nothing out of the ordinary. But all too soon he had fallen behind, coughing and losing speed fast. Then his heaving chest suddenly constricted and tightened and Sam panicked. He had fallen on his knees, begging for breath whilst his gym coach shouted for someone to get the nurse.
It was more severe than a school nurse could contend with.
His father had been first to Sam’s side to bring him to the hospital and Sam’s automatic response of “What about Dean?” had tapered off quickly at the scowl on his father’s face, dark and ominous.
It was worry, veiled of course.
It was only after an abundance of testing and enquiries about family medical history he had been told he had touch of asthma, given a prescription and sent on his way.
John had just sighed, relieved, whilst Sam felt his entire world crumble a little.
It was horrifying to him to suddenly be told that, even though it was “only a touch”, he had asthma.
Sam had wondered what this would mean in his life of running laps and sparring with his brother for a purpose he had not yet been allowed to understand and would lament over when he was finally told. Sam had tried hard not to think of what Dean would say to him when he found out, if Dean would tease him or if he would coddle him like he was made of glass.
And then, of course, there were the bullies at school who were already picking on him for being the new kid and excelling in his grades. Walking around with an inhaler would just give the student body more ammunition to use against him.
Sam’s fretting was made all the worse when they got back to that ramshackle of a house that John had situated his family in and Sam got his first glimpse of the giant instrument his father had picked up from the drugstore.
It wasn’t just a little blue tube like Sam had thought it would be, although there was also a blue tube and a brown one there as well. It was a giant, plastic cylinder called a “spacer”, his father had told him as he jabbed one of the inhalers into the slot in the device and presented to him the other side with the mouthpiece on it.
“It’s just until you get used to it.” John Winchester had said with an eerie calmness in his voice. It was his serious voice but more so than that, it was his concerned voice. And Sam had always hated that voice.
He’d rather hear his father furious and barking orders than to hear him just be his dad and worried as hell. Especially if it was over him, Sam couldn’t handle that.
Sam had wanted to say something to him, to shout that he wasn’t a child, anything to stop that horrendous guilt. But he was cut off when he felt his chest tightening again, his throat shrinking and he began a horrible wheeze that brought humiliated tears to his eyes and his dad had been right there holding him against his chest, one hand on the spacer and the other gently holding him close.
John had hushed him like he was nothing more than a little child and at the time, Sam had never fell as scared. He had fallen backwards, eyes roving around the room and dizzyingly looking at everything for a solution in near panic when the attack became worse.
But John had just kept hushing him and pushing the mouthpiece of the spacer towards him and pressing down on the top of the inhaler.
“Come on Sammy, just breathe. It’s okay. Just breathe.” Sam did breathe as carefully as he could manage and the little plastic piece in the spacer breathed with him, with the same repetitiveness as those respiratory machines he had seen in the hospital too many times.
But it had helped. His chest stopped heaving and his throat stopped tightening. His body struggled less and John had sighed in relief for a moment and rubbed Sam’s back soothingly.
“That’s it Sammy, nice and easy. Just breathe. That’s it.”
Somewhere in the midst of his second attack of that day, the door had slammed open and silence reigned from it. Sam, too exhausted and sore, did not notice. It was only when a blank face had appeared at his side and a clammy hand gripped his tight, did Sam realise his older brother was finally home.
Sam remembered that part fondly.
Dean’s eyes had been fierce and alive with anxiety and resolve. Protective, as he took over for his father’s duties with the spacer.
Sam had looked at his brother with a smile, his body automatically calming down at Dean’s presence by his side and his eyes had slipped closed.
It had made Sam feel content to relax knowing his big brother was beside him, keeping him safe. Not for the first time, and not for the last either.
~ * ~ * ~
The first time it happened, Dean remembered that he had been scared shitless.
Dean recalled sprinting the entire half a mile home after school.
He had only found out from the secretary after the bell rang that she’d gotten a call that John wouldn’t be able to pick Dean up after school because his little brother had been brought to hospital but it was all okay, Sam was home again and fine, and there was no need to worry.
Those teachers obviously hadn’t known a single, damn thing about him if they had thought a simple “it’s okay, nothing to worry about” would calm Dean Winchester down when the words “Sam” and “hospital” were used in the same sentence.
Enraged at having not been told and still excruciatingly worried about his brother and what could’ve been so wrong he had been brought - rushed to hospital, Dean had made a beeline straight to that rundown excuse for a house they were staying in to see Sam and then rant at his father.
The second the house came into view, Dean smashed open the door and snarled out for John, not dad or sir or anything respectful like he should’ve said, in his rage he had shouted “John”.
But his words fell into a noiseless gasp as he watched his father hold his brother tenderly whilst his brother was... breathing into a plastic thing and clearly in no fit state to even properly hold himself up.
Dean had simply watched, frozen in horror and unable to get the lingering murmur of the words “there’s nothing to worried about” out of his head, because that was definitely something to worry about.
When John finally looked up at Dean, still frozen in the doorway, he had quickly beckoned him over. Dean had walked quickly but sank slowly to the floor beside them, almost afraid of doing anything except tentatively grasping Sam’s hand. Sam had given him a toothy grin like it was all fine but his expression was weary, exhausted.
Then the thing, the spacer, was being handed to Dean.
“Dad?”
“You’re going to have to learn to do this, son. Just in case. Just listen and do exactly what I tell you.”
Dean had, fearfully, held the thing in two hands and pushed the tab on the inhaler every time his father told him to until he caught the rhythm himself.
He had understood the concept without being told, no matter how foreign the idea was when connected to Sam. Perhaps if he had heard the news when Sam was pouting and grumbling over it, Dean would’ve taken it better, maybe even given his little brother a little teasing about it.
But coming in on Sam, unable to breathe, propped up against a worried John Winchester’s chest and breathing into that thing - No, there wasn’t anything funny about that. It had been downright horrifying.
And Dean made a promise to himself, then and there, that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure it never happened again.
~ * ~ * ~
It had been years since Sam’s last attack and Dean was more than glad he had managed to keep his promise.
Possibly just an infection, the doctor had said and Dean had chuckled at how quickly Sam had agreed as long as it meant the inhaler stayed at home.
Still, it had lasted a long time and Dean had been extra cautious around Sam during that time, waiting for the moment he started coughing and heaving again and it had annoyed Sam a lot. In retrospect, Dean could see why. Every sigh from Sam had Dean shoving an inhaler at him.
But that was years ago now, Sam was doing a lot better and Dean had been willing to agree that it was just an infection and nothing more.
Although really, sometimes he considered that it was Sam’s complete pigheadedness that forced it away because his brother had refused to slow down an inch in training or in school despite his asthma. His little brother could seriously be as stubborn as a mule sometimes. Admirable, but stubborn.
Yet the fear that it wasn’t just an infection still lingered in Dean’s mind, the fear that he would come up and Sam would be lying on the ground barely alive or that there would be another call that he was in the hospital for those chest pains again.
That was why the second the door slammed open in the middle of his Biology class and a kid three years his junior entered the room, Dean Winchester knew exactly what was going on.
Mrs Hughes was demanding answers for the interruption and all she got was the frantic response of, “I’m looking for Dean Winchester.”
The second his name was uttered, Dean was out of his chair like a shot, eyes tearing the new arrival apart as he himself demanded answers.
“It’s your brother - it’s Sam, he’s in the third floor boy’s bathroom, something’s wrong with him-”
Dean didn’t need more than that, he was already out of his seat, knocking it so fast he was sure that clattering was the sound of it toppling over, not that he cared, nor did he care about the stupid sound of his teacher about hall passes and other crap like that.
He was shooting up the stairs, taking them three at a time as he launched himself towards the third floor bathroom.
Dean slammed into it like a man on a mission and it horrified him to no end to see Sam like that, to see his proud, strong, annoying, little brother just lying there and breathing far too fast.
There was a kid sitting beside him and it looked like he’d been trying to prop him up but Sam, in his terror, had slipped downwards and was lying half on the floor clutching his chest and taking deep breaths, devoid of oxygen.
And neither of them had inhalers with them.
“Get out.” Dean snarled, moving towards Sam and he heard the boy stutter and it served to irk him even more. “I said get out!”
The boy scrambled outside, saying something about getting the nurse, until they were alone together and Dean immediately scooped Sam up into his arms, resting his back against Dean’s chest and lightly placing a hand upon Sam’s heaving chest.
“Hey hey hey Sammy - Sammy. It’s me, it’s Dean. I’m right here. Right here.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed like perhaps he heard that and his sweaty hands gripped Dean’s jeans.
“Just listen to me. Listen. I need you to calm yourself down. Breathe with me, Sammy. Okay?” He took a deep, measured breath that ended up gently pushing Sam forward and back against him. “Feel that? I need you to breathe with me, Sammy. Come on. Nice and slow.”
Sam’s body lurched quickly and his head shook back and forth.
He wasn’t calming down at all and Dean was beginning to feel his own panic setting in. His mind was flung backwards in time again, back to the first attack he had seen and it made Dean really wish that their father was here to help instead of off hunting those ghouls. John would’ve been able to handle this no problem.
Not the time - focus! Sam needs you!, his mind scolded him and he shook his head.
“Sammy, you gotta listen to your big brother. I’m here. I’m here. You’re not alone. You hear me?” Sam managed a long shaky nod and Dean felt like crying in relief, even though Sam had almost head butted his nose with that nod.
“Just slow down and breathe with me Sam, okay? Slow, deep breaths in.” Sam managed a short inward gasp, his hands gripping Dean’s jeans. “And out.” And Sam choked out a breath.
The nurse burst in at that moment, ready to take over but Dean gave her a hostile look that said he had it under control.
“Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out...”
The breaths were getting deeper, less erratic and Sam’s shaking form was finally beginning to settle down.
“Sammy, listen to me. I want you to lift your arms above your head, can you do that for me?”
Sam nodded against him and somehow managed to unfurl his hands from Dean’s jeans and lifted them up, shaky but they went up and stayed up.
“You’re doing great Sammy, that’s it. Just keep breathing with me. Nice and slow. In... and out... in... and out... in... and out...”
And Sam was doing great. Dean was so proud of his brother right then and there for staying cool and strong throughout what was undoubtedly a terrifying experience. It had terrified Dean and he hadn’t been the one unable to breathe.
“S’okay, Sammy. It’s okay. You’re fine. You’re fine.” Dean whispered softly in his ear as Sam finally calmed down and his breathing evened out.
“Dean?” Sam managed to whisper though it sounded weak to both their ears. Dean sighed in relief, falling forward and burying his face in Sam’s hair.
“Yeah it’s me.” Sam was breathing in perfect rhythm with him and it made Dean sigh again. “Don’t... don’t scare me like that again, kiddo.”
“S’ry.” Sam wheezed out in response, leaning backwards like he was ready to go to sleep and Dean was content to let him lie back there now that is breathing seemed stronger than before.
It was no time at all until the paramedics arrived, having been told a student was having a major asthmatic attack that seemed inconsolable. Apparently though, it had actually been consoled.
It took a few, long check-ups that kept them until long after the last bell had rang as well as an unbreakable promise to visit the doctor for a further check-up and they were gone again and Dean was finally given permission to take Sam home.
Dean was taking no chances after that, even though their motel was only a couple blocks away, it was a couple blocks too many for the exhausted Sam. He dished out the cash in his pockets for a cab and the second they got to the Green Valley Motel, Dean was nearly carrying Sam in through the door, a move he was sure a more alert Sam would have scowled at him about.
Instead, Sam simply allowed Dean to lead him to his bed and help prop his body upright against the headboard.
“I don’t think we have any honey or ginger... gotta get some later...” Dean mumbled as he disappeared into the kitchenette, trying to remember every home remedy for asthma he had learned over the years. He suddenly snapped his fingers in revelation before going to the fridge and pulling out a can of Mr Pibb.
“Here you go, Sammy. You know the drill.” A caffeine boost seemed to help Sam during these times and Sam took the drink and sipped it as many times as he could before abandoning it and leaving it for his big brother to place safely on the nightstand.
“So, what happened back there anyway? What brought all that on?” Dean finally asked, taking a seat on the bed beside Sam.
“Kevin Rafferty.” Sam whispered and Dean automatically clenched his fist. He’d heard all about that little punk who liked nothing more than picking on every person who looked at him the wrong way.
He did that to Sam. “I’ll kill him.”
“No. My fault anyway.” Dean’s jaw dropped incredulously. Sam just smirked and rolled his eyes at him, clearly not surprised by Dean’s reaction. “Had a coughing fit and went to the bathroom after Kevin and the rest ganged up on me and I uh... well I may have gone a little overboard... um, defending myself.”
Dean blinked and his mouth curved into a grin as he imagined the look on those bastards faces when little Sammy suddenly - finally - turned the tables on them. Dean ruffled Sam’s sweat drenched mop of hair and chuckled to himself, immensely proud of his brother for standing up against that stupid bully.
“That’s my boy.”
Sam smiled timidly. “Thanks Dean... for being there for me earlier.”
“Of course. What’re big brothers good for, anyhow?” Dean said with a grin and a wink and it made Sam huff a laugh which suddenly broke out into a yawn.
“Hey Dean? I’m kinda tired. Mind if I snooze?”
“Ah, okay then.” Dean murmured as Sam simply toed off his shoes and shrugged his jacket off before dipping under the covers.
Dean leaned forward, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulling him back against his chest again, a gentler parody of events from earlier that day. If Sam had been more energetic, that look he gave Dean would’ve seemed a lot more outraged.
“I’m staying right here, Sammy. Whether you like it or not, so deal.”
Sam said nothing more but he didn’t glare again either, just decided to nestle down and bear with it because Dean was not going anywhere. Sam was here and alive in front of him and it quelled the persistent fear within him. Dean had assumed he had gotten over it but today it just served to remind him that if he wasn’t there... Sam may have... might not have...
He tried not to dwell on that. There was a nurse there and the paramedics had made it quick enough so even if he wasn’t there... but he was there. He had helped. Sam was still alive and he was there.
Dean unconsciously squeezed Sam’s shoulder tighter and Sam turned his head up at him, blinking.
“Get some rest, Sammy.” He smiled down at him and Sam peered at him curiously before setting down again. “Cos the second you wake up? We get to try out all those home remedies again! Remember the garlic milk? Yummy!”
Sam growled and Dean gave him a completely innocent look and told him again to go to sleep. Sam did, wordlessly. It took an entire six minutes but soon Sam was out like a light, drooling peacefully on Dean’s AC/DC t-shirt.
Dean didn’t do anything about it though. He just closed his eyes, his smile wavering downwards and his hands trembling as they gripped Sam perhaps a little too tightly.
His brother slept on, blissfully unaware.
It made Dean want to laugh but all that came out was a quiet sob and he shook his head, ignoring the sting behind his closed eyes.
“See? Nothing to worry about...”