(no subject)
Title: Cry in the Night
Author: Thru Terry's Eyes
Pairing: None
Genre:Thriller/gen
Word Count: 30,512
Disclaimer: Welcome to the world thru my eyes. Don't own 'em. Only get pleasure, no money.
Summary: Hurt/sick Dean haunted by the flashbacks from a hunt that took place after Sam left for Stanford. He can't remember the details but something is wrong and what he can't recall can hurt him.
AN: I mention an inhaler in several of these chapters, this is from my story, Chipping Away, Dean has to use on at the end after he gets pneumonia. This story takes place after that. Don't have to read it for this to make sense but you might like it.
Chapter 6: Stumbling to the light.
Sam glanced at Dean who was staring sleepily out the passenger window. Whatever the hell had been in that shot had worked fast. They had managed to make it back to the car, through the incessant rain and get Dean resettled, wet, but no more uncontrollable retching.
The lines on Dean's face had eased some and he was at least able to sit up without too much discomfort. Sam doubted he'd be awake by the time they made it back to the motel, especially since Sam had a couple of errands to run to get the prescription filled that Mercer had given him and some supplies to keep them going for a day or two.
Dean sighed finally. "I'm glad that's over," he murmured, rubbing his eyes. His voice sounded thick. He resettled himself against the door, grimacing slightly. It hurt to cross his arms over his stomach so he kept them in his lap.
Sam gave a surprised laugh. "Whadaya mean, over? You heard what he said."
Dean blinked at him unsteadily. "Yeah. Rest, no stress and plain food for a while and this'll clear up on its own." Dean yawned slowly, widening his eyes, trying to pay attention to whatever Sam was on about now.
Disbelief swept Sam's face. "You just proved something I've always suspected about you," he declared.
"What?" Dean said, frowning.
"You really do have an intermittent hearing problem."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean growled, getting irritated. He wanted to go to sleep and Sam's nattering was making him cranky.
"You listen to what people say, but you only hear the parts you want to." Sam shook his head. "This is being caused by something else, Dean. That's what he said. Probably from that fall the other night among other things. We have to find out what's causing it. Dude, you are so going to the closest clinic we can find tomorrow and get some tests run."
"I am so not." Dean replied, automatically crossing his arms defiantly. He moved them away immediately, finding the weight intolerable.
The shot had taken the edge off the pain and left him in a somewhat fuzzy state of mind. He still felt nauseous but at the moment, also thanks to the shot, he didn't much care. He wanted to go back to sleep. He'd be a lot better after that. Maybe he could eat something then and they could get back on the road…
"Dean, are you listening to me?" Sam's plaintive tone cut through Dean's wandering thoughts.
"What?" Dean yelped. "Christ, Sam, are you saying anything I need to hear?" He twisted uncomfortably. "And I might point out this conversation is not helping with the no stress thing!" he gave Sam as dirty a look as he could make the muscles in his face form and then turned away, closing his eyes.
Sam rolled his own eyes, praying to who or whatever for guidance. You could lead a horse to water but if the bastard was too stubborn to admit he was thirsty…
He opened his mouth to express that thought but realized as he looked over that Dean was out cold. Sighing, he shook his head, knowing this conversation would repeat itself tomorrow. Dean never made anything easy.
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"He didn't mean what you heard the way it sounded, Dean." Caleb accepted the shotgun that Dean held out to him, trying to get Dean to look at him. The ride out, Dean had been virtually mute, crammed between John and Caleb in the cab of Caleb's old truck. He answered direct questions regarding their hunt plans but other than that, stared silently at a spot between his boots.
Caleb's comment was rewarded with a brief view of the green of Dean's eye's and then they moved away. The air was thick with moisture, sticky and hot, despite the coming of night and even though he was trying to hide it, Caleb could hear Dean's breath moving in and out with an effort. Dean was his father's son and stubborn as hell, he would choke to death before he would use that damned inhaler now.
Caleb knew how much Dean hated this weakness he couldn't seem to shake. He was trying so hard to meet John's expectations and sometimes John was just an ass, plain and simple.
"Dean…"
"Caleb." Dean's voice was hoarse. He checked the load on his gun and cocked it Thunder echoed the crack as the barrel snapped into place. "He has to be able to depend on me. I'm letting him down. He's right." Dean turned away and walked into the deepening gloom as rain started to patter at the leaves around them.
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Dean moaned softly, rolling his head against the window. Sam glanced over at him, unconsciously slowing the car. The motel was only a couple more miles. He decided to get Dean settled then would return for the prescription. The bed would be more comfortable than the car.
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Feeling the claws tear into him, Dean knew there was no way in hell Caleb and his dad could get to him in time. For the split second he had to think clearly, he wished he could get to the knife he had buried to the hilt in this things chest. He would have turned it on himself in a heartbeat. Better that, than to be ripped to pieces or worse, bitten and survive, only to face a worse nightmare.
He couldn't stop the cry that was wrung from him as the creature lifted him bodily from the ground. He could feel the rake of claws against his leg as the other beast tried to grab him, feeling like some kind of bizarre play toy in a horrendous game of cat and mouse.
John's bellow came to him even above the snarling and he caught a quick, hazy view of his father running forward, raising his gun as the werewolf swung him around, raising him, claws digging in even more deeply, wrenching anothet hoarse cry out of him..
Caleb's voice rang out. "John, what are youdoing!"
"-KILL HIM!" John's voice rang out with a clarity that made all the other sounds die away just before everything was lost in deafening blasts of thunder and gunfire, screaming and blood and Dean felt his body slam into the cold, wet ground, every beat of his heart spilling scarlet onto the muddy grass.
Whiskey seared his throat, choking him as the bottle was tipped into his mouth. John's rough hands holding him up enough to swallow and his rough voice ordering him . "Drink it, Dean!"
He tried, mostly because he didn't have much choice, drenching them both in whiskey and blood as he coughed.
"Hold him, John, for God's sake! This is gonna hurt!."
Someone screamed then.
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"JESUS CHRIST!" Dean screamed. He flailed away from Sam so roughly for a moment Sam thought he was having a convulsion.
"Get…get off me…" Dean gagged, shoving at Sam, who hastily obeyed, allowing Dean to stumble into the bathroom, his coughing punctuated by pained groans and spitting.
Sam hung in the doorway until Dean slumped to the side, exhausted, ribs rising and falling along his spine as he fought for air. He was shivering and dizzy, wishing someone would just. PLEASE. GOD. pull the flaming spike out of his belly. Couldn't Sam see it? One hand lifted from the floor but fell back limply. The other arm curled across his stomach and he groaned softly.
Sam crouched down next to Dean, lifting his upper body into a sitting position as gently as he could. Dean's head rolled back against Sam, his hand raising again to pluck at Sam's shirt.
"Don't…" he murmured. "Hurts…"
"I know it hurts, Dean. I can't leave you on the floor. Your shivering. Let's get you up." Sam lifted with his legs, moving carefully as Dean tried to get his feet under him. Dean's skin was sweat slick and he felt very warm to the touch even though he was shaking with chills.
Sam eased him onto the bed, Dean's lower lip clamped firmly between his teeth, his only sounds soft grunts.
"Donwanna lie down," he said, resisting Sam's gently push.
"Okay." Sam grabbed the pillows off his bed and piled them up behind Dean to leave him in a semi-sitting position. He pulled the blankets up Dean's legs and draped the one from his bed around his upper body. Dean's arms moved across his abdomen under the blanket.
"Wasn't I… in the car?" He blinked slowly and one hand crept out to rub at his eyes dazedly. He shivered again, grimacing and pulled it back under the blanket.
Sam got some water and came back to the bed with two bottles of pills. "I don't know what was in that shot the doctor gave you but, dude, you've been asleep for hours. I thought I'd never get you back in the room." He held out the pills and the water. "You need to take these."
Dean eyed the offerings with distaste. He opened his mouth to speak but belched instead, looking surprised and unhappy and eliciting another soft groan from him, eyes closing briefly.
Any other time Sam might have laughed but Dean looked to miserable and Sam was too worried about him.
"My stomach feels weird." Dean said, moving his head in a negative. "I don't think-"
"Try one, with a little water. If it stays down you can take the other in fifteen or twenty minutes. You need the water, Dean. You need to eat." Sam held the water out again, more insistently.
Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't want to hear that word, God forbid, think about doing it." He took the water and one pill and reluctantly forced it down with a small gulp of water. The water felt surprisingly nice, spreading a cool spot through his stomach and he took another tiny sip before setting it on the table. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes.
"You had another nightmare…" Sam began.
Dean's eyes shot open and rolled to Sam. "I don't wanta talk about it," Dean growled low in this throat. God, his stomach hurt.
Clumsy fingers, trying to be gentle but failing as agony tore through him, pulling his insides apart…
Dean's hands clamped over his eyes, his breathing becoming smothered and strained.
"Dean-"
"NO!" Dean yelled. Sam jerked back.
Dean stared at him for second, but left Sam feeling that Dean wasn't seeing him at all.
Dean suddenly turned away, pulled one of the pillows from behind him, sliding down in the bed and shifting uncomfortably to his side, staring at the wall.
"I wanna sleep, Sam." He ground out, pulling the covers over his shoulder.
Sam opened and closed his mouth, a dozen comments dying on his lips as they came to him. He finally sighed, snugged the covers a little tighter around Dean and turned off the bed side lamp.
"Let me know if you want anything," he got to his feet, nudging the trash can closer to the bed. "I'll check back in a little while about the other pill." Dean gave a slight nod and closed his eyes.
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Sam opened the motel room door and stepped out into the cool evening. The rain had stopped but the air was colder. He wondered if it might be snowing by morning. The air had that feel to it. He checked the time so he could keep up with Dean's next pill, assuming he didn't throw up the first one.
Slumping down on the bench next to their room door he pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to ward off an impending headache. It was only 11:00 pm but he felt as though he had been awake for days. He stared out at the broken moonlight glinting in the puddles of half frozen water dotting the thinly graveled parking lot. Dimly, he could hear twangy country music in the distance.
Sam sighed again and fished his phone out of his pocket, wearily dialing the number he knew no one would pick up on, hanging up after the voicemail came on. His head thumped back against the wall as he rolled his head from side to side, eyes closed.
His eyes snapped open again suddenly and he dialed the phone again, with more energy this time, holding it to his ear in anticipation, jumping upright when a gravelly voice burst out of the speaker.
"This better be fuckin' good!"
Sam couldn't stop the grin or the sense of relief at the sound of that voice.
"Caleb?"
TBC