Carry On My Wayward Son, a Supernatural Fic
Title: Carry On My Wayward Son
Author: lauehime
Characters: Sam, Dean, Special guest ;)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family, Angst
Pairing: Gen
Word Count: +/- 4,500
Warnings: Spoilers for season 8, minor cussing and too much fluff for my own good :P
Summary:Tag to “The Great Escapist”. Sam didn’t have time to call Dean before he collapsed. But someone was there because he wakes up in the hospital. There’s a familiar face next to him but it can’t be. He’s got a fever, right. That must be it. He’s just being delirious.
Author’s note: This is a one shot that I needed to be written. The idea came knocking at my door and that evil plot bunny has been tormenting me until I wrote it down. It started as a dream and led to this. It’s quite funny actually. My brain’s doing funny things. Oh well, see for yourself!
Disclaimer: I do not own the show or its characters. That would be Kripke’s. And I don’t make profit. It’s just pure fun playing with those boys.
SPN
The walls waltzed in a frenzy hand-in-hand dance, making his head spin. The lights were too bright, flicking in and out and burning at his retinas. The dark ceiling threatened to swallow the ugly paintings and the dusty beige tile that made up the hallway. Why did his room appear to be so out of reach? He hadn’t strayed that far away. Had he?
He wasn’t sure of anything but the spinning of his head and the burning feeling of his entrails combusted into an inferno that had been devouring him slowly for days. Waves of chills assaulted him at the same time, making it hard to stand on his wobbly legs. His body must have been trying to extinguish the fire. It’s all he wished for. For the fire to burn away to ashes. For the heat to abate. For the feeling of sickness to wash away.
The lights flicked on bright and brighter, blinding him. He had to turn his head away from the beam of a thousand suns that reflected on his glassy eyes and on his sleeked cheeks. The cold rivulets of sweat pearled down from his hairline; down his neck and onto his shoulders. It leaked down his back and made him feel so much heavier. Gravity was pulling at him. Why was he sweating anyway when all he felt was this icy feeling weighting down the pit of his stomach?
He wanted it to stop. For the noises to die down. For the lights to flicker off. For his room to be in his reach. He stumbled a little further, mustering all the strength he had left. He finally made it to the motel room and fumbled his way inside. A gust of heat winded from his toes up to his head. He couldn’t think clearly but something clawed at the back of his mind.
Something? No someone. He should call someone and let them know he wasn’t feeling too good. But he couldn’t remember who or even how to. The darkness engulfed him until he knew no more.
His gigantic body crumpled to the ground, all air rushing out of his lungs when he met the solid floor. He sunk into oblivion even before he hit the ground. Heat waves were still radiating out of him.
The lights flickered on and off and a light chill blew into the room.
Idjit.
The ambulance picked up speed towards the emergency room. They hadn’t wasted any time as soon as they got the call. Of course, the man wouldn’t make it if they did. You didn’t see such a case of a fever every day. That man had to be cooled down or he would roast.
The ER was ready to take him as soon as he was wheeled in. The man was unresponsive and dangerously hot. They wheeled him inside as quickly as it was humanly possible. The patients were pushed away by nurses in light green gowns and that man - so tall but so small - on the gurney. His face was pale, almost translucent, and the creases underneath his eyes were deep. The skin of his cheeks also dug around his cheekbones.
The flurry was enough to gather people’s attention. There was no time to waste trying to look show-fabulous either way. The man on the gurney was possibly dying. Doctors rushed in to give a helping hand. He wouldn’t last long unless they moved fast.
An elderly nurse started stripping the unconscious man of his clothes. A younger one soon followed her lead. At any other given time, they would have gaped at that body. They would have shared nods and lopsided amused smiles. But not this time. There was no time to waste even for a pretty boy like him. That meant setting up an IV and ensuring a proper feed of oxygen; barking medical jargon like getting his sats up and cooling core temperature to 102.
As soon as he was stripped off his clothes, they covered his boiling body with ice. The first layer was already melting away on the plastic sheet he was lying on. They monitored his temperature while it went down. The process was slow. The man under the pile of ice didn’t surface into the land of consciousness but he did start shivering. A nurse grabbed a vial and injected something into his IV line. The shivering died down.
It took a few hours for his temperature to reach 102. When it did, they took him away and dressed him. He earned his own backless gown and bed in his own room. He still had yet to arouse.
When he first did, it started with a groan. It was soon followed by fluttering lashes. He pulled in a deep breath and slivers of hazel opened to the world. This world was blurry and sounds were dulled. He took in the throbbing in his head and the distant unfamiliar sounds. There was that beeping and that whooshing too. Turning his head around proved to be difficult but also brought on surprises.
There was an old man sitting next to him. He knew that man from somewhere but his brain couldn’t process the information. Somehow it didn’t make any sense. His whole brain didn’t make any sense anyhow. Where was he and why was he so cold?
But then the machinery clicked into place and he recognized things for what they were. The gown, the heart monitor, the IVs…
“You’ve got to be kidding me” he breathed out, forcing himself to lift a heavy hand to tug at the tube tied around his face. His arm slumped on his lap before he could reach his goal. The old man hissed.
“Will ya leave that alone, idjit?! Just get some rest”
He frowned, confused and disoriented.
“What the hell happened?”
He was taking deep breaths. What struck him the most was that he could actually breathe.
“Been pushing yourself too hard, kid. Found you passed out on the floor with a temperature of 107. It needed to come down”
His frown deepened. He could hardly remember anything but the buzzing motel corridor with the load of books he had found. The rest was a blur. A jumble of colors and smells and sounds. There was that heat too. He remembered the painful heat and the racking cold chills.
“Are you really… real?”
The old man smiled and rubbed the rim of his cap with the tips of calloused fingers.
“How ‘bout we discuss that later? Either way, that pretty nurse just gave ya a shot of that good stuff they’ve been pumping you with”
He understood the implications of that statement when he started to feel his heavy eyelids droop.
“Shouldn’t be here… they can’t do anything for me” he slurred, trying his hardest to keep his eyes open.
“Sorry kiddo. Couldn’t let ya toast either”
He understood the concern behind the apology and nodded. He didn’t find the strength in him to argue. When the nurse came in to take his temperature, she noticed the peaceful look on his face. He already looked ten times better than when he’d first come in.
He woke up again sometime later. The drugs were wearing off and he felt somewhat groggy. He could compare it to waking up with a nasty hangover and very little memories of the previously-lived embarrassment. The smiling old man was still there and greeted him with a smile.
“You still here?”
“And why would I want to leave your lovely mug?”
He snorted. It felt strange to have the man here but it was comforting at the same time. He couldn’t deny the fact that the trials were taking their toll on him. His brother had been hovering too lately. It felt good to have company that wasn’t his mother-hen of a brother.
“Besides you’re such a joy to be around. I wouldn’t miss that for the world”
He rolled his eyes.
“Shut up” he retorted but his lips curled into one of his famous lopsided grins.
“Well, I’d let ya do the talking but we’ve got some things we need to do”
The old man nodded playfully as he pulled up the spoonful of mashed food. A look of horror crossed his eyes.
“You’re kidding, right?”
The man shook his head and sighed.
“You gotta get your strength back. Look at you, you’re a mess, kid!”
His eyes were pleading.
“But you’re not going to spoon-feed me, really?”
The old man shrugged as if he had nothing else to offer.
“It’s either that or I heard the nurses talk ‘bout force-feedin’ ya. I’m telling ya it ain’t gonna be no fun. My spoon don’t look like such a bad idea after all”
He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat.
“Can’t I do it myself?”
There was terror in his eyes. The old man smiled.
“’F course, kiddo. ‘S long as you eat”
He nodded and grabbed the offered spoon with a shaky hand. He managed to pull it to his mouth and swallowed the whole thing. It didn’t go down as smoothly as he would’ve liked. His throat was parched.
“Thirsty” he rasped.
The old man nodded and handed him a glass of water. He nodded gratefully and chugged the cold liquid. He then ate a few more bites before his shaky arms gave out. He didn’t have much strength left in him. Not eating for days was probably a good place to start to explain his weakness. Then there were the trials. Well…
“Le’me get that for ya”
He flinched away slightly.
“Please. ’M not hungry anymore”
The old man gave him a hard frown.
“I wasn’t askin’ for your permission princess. Give me the damn spoon and open that piehole of yours”
He looked miserable and ashamed but in the end, he needed the strength and the food and there was no arguing with the old man when he meant nothing but business. The dish was put away as soon as he finished the food and a thought crossed his mind.
“Dean?”
“He’s worried about you”
He closed his eyes in shame. He knew that his brother was worried but that’s not what he needed to know.
“Does he even know I’m here?”
The old man sighed.
“He’ll come. Don’t worry”
He nodded. There was a beat of silence. For a while he just concentrated on breathing. For once he didn’t feel like coughing up a lung. He would enjoy it for a moment longer.
“How is it?” he finally asked.
The old man sighed.
“Well I get to have all the Whiskey I want and watch as many soap operas as I can”
He chuckled, imagining the scene just perfectly. The man smiled but his grin died slowly until it rested as a sorrowful look of regret.
“But it gets lonely” the old man admitted.
“You finally got to be free”
“What you call freedom, I call wasting away. I’m useless where I am”
He gave him a look of sympathy.
“You’ve never been useless! Your legacy lives on”
The old man smiled sadly. There was the shadow of tears in his eyes.
“I just don’t know what to do when I’m not saving your asses or standing between you boys’ banter”
It was his turn to smile but it only held pleasure provided by old memories.
“We miss you too” he admitted.
What he thought to have been the shadow of tears actually turned into glistening droplets. But then the old man's face became serious again.
“That’s no reason to check out early and to try to join me though”
“I didn’t mean it like that” he started but he was cut off short.
“Like hell you didn’t! And what was that all about? Winchesters’ penchant for sacrifice? Is that any way to honor your legacy?”
He closed his eyes and bowed his head.
“It’s what I’m trying to do actually. I’m willing to do anything to close the Gates of Hell for good. All of this won’t be for naught when I’ve cleansed the world free of demons!”
The old man stared him down solemnly.
“You’ve come a long way, kid. But you haven’t changed one bit. I hear the same speech years after the Apocalypse that you went to Hell to prevent”
“Exactly. I’ve done this before. I’m not scared”
“But you’re damned stupid! Don’t you remember the last time? Don’t you remember all of what you went through when you came back from Hell? Do you really think this time’s going to be any different?”
He looked at the old man with serious eyes. He almost looked like an aged man himself, one blessed with wisdom.
“It will be. Because if I go anywhere, I’m not going to come back” he announced.
“What the hell are you sayin’?”
“That if I’m gone. I want to stay gone”
The old man scrutinized him with his piercing blue eyes.
“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? It’s not freedom that awaits for you, it’s loneliness”
He shrugged. He actually looked decided and content with his decision.
“I heard what you said when you reminded me of the pain that I have caused when I came back from Hell. I’m not gonna let this happen again”
The old man held his gaze. They stared at each other for lingering seconds.
“My god you get weepy when you’re high” the old man blurted out.
He looked at the old man in disbelief. He didn’t know what to think and instead stared with a dumbfounded look.
A nurse walked inside the room at that right moment, clutching her pad to her chest and looking at him with a concerned look.
“You’re awake I see. Is everything okay?”
He looked at the old man and then back at the nurse.
“When can I get out of here?”
“Sir, you were severely hyperthermic and dehydrated when you came in here. Your temperature’s still high and your sats aren’t optimal. Do you understand that it might take a while for you to be well enough to leave? Besides, we’re still not sure what’s causing it. If you don’t mind, we’d like to run more tests”
He shook his head.
“I just want my brother. He doesn’t know I’m here”
She frowned.
“Do you want us to contact your brother?”
He nodded. She nodded back and left with a suspicious last glance to the side of the bed. He closed his eyes and once again focused on breathing.
“You get some rest before your brother gets here. You’re gonna need it”
He wanted to argue but he didn’t find the strength. He just fell into a dreamless slumber.
When Dean received the phone call from the hospital, his heart skipped a few beats. He had come home to an empty motel room, void of any gigantic feverish brothers. He’d been scared out of his mind ever since. Sam had been gone for the whole day before he got the call. He could have been dead for all Dean knew. If it weren’t for the hospital, his brother might have been. But then again, what happened for Sam to be in the hospital in the first place? He’d been threatening to bring the kid for weeks and Sam had just repeated over again that they couldn’t do anything to help him.
It’s the physician who answered all of his questions. She was in her late thirties and Dean wasn’t oblivious to her charms. If it weren’t for the fact that he was in a freaking hospital with his brother somewhere in there, he would have actually flirted. Or tried to. But it didn’t matter now.
“Where’s Sam? What’s wrong with him?”
“We’ve received an anonymous call that your brother had passed out with a body temperature of 107”
“107? Fuck.” Yeah. Fuck Sam.
The Doctor pretended she hadn’t heard. 107? Yeah, fuck! The boy was lucky to be alive.
“We forced it down with whole-body ice packing. Basically, we covered him with ice. We also gave him Lorazepam to keep him from being too agitated. He was rather unresponsive at first though, which raised my concern regarding his health”
Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew it was bad but fuck, Sam!
“What’s wrong with my brother?”
She gave him a look that he didn’t like. He had seen it too many times in his line of work. It was that one puzzled look that everyone gave him when they had absolutely no clue. Because yeah, the trials. That wasn’t something the ER dealt with on a regular basis.
“Honestly, we’ve ran many tests but… we just don’t know. There’s the fever and there’s the breathing”
“What’s up with that” Dean blurted out, managing to cut her off.
She sighed.
“His saturation level is still low. We don’t know why. His lungs appear to be fine but he can’t get enough air. We have him on oxygen until his
sats improve”
Dean’s eyes were wide open. He stood there, gaping. Fuck, Sam.
“But did he wake up? Is he okay?” he stuttered.
She nodded but her eyes held something that worried him. They were sorry. He hated that look. He didn’t need pity. Sam was strong and had gone through worse shit than this. This was just regular Sunday afternoon for them. Right?
“He’s been acting strangely. But it’s probably just the fever that’s making him a little delirious”
Was she trying to comfort him? That is most definitely not what he wanted to hear. That’s not what he needed.
“Tell me. What did he do?”
She looked embarrassed as if she was ashamed for starting fires where there were probably none. Pissing Dean off wasn’t something she wanted to try either, especially if it was for naught.
“It’s no big deal really… he’s just been… talking”
Dean’s body clenched. Talking? Like what? Had Sam been delirious enough to tell them all about demons and the supernatural world? After all, his brother was kinda chatty when he was delirious from fever. He thought about Sam recalling his supposedly-true farty donkeys story; a memory which he himself didn’t even remember.
“Talking?” he echoed, Sam’s fevered laugh replaying in the tired haze in his brain.
“Yeah talking. As if there were someone with him”
Dean frowned.
“And?”
“Well, he’s been alone the whole time. Came in here alone and you’re the first one to visit”
Dean’s frown deepened. He knew all about loopy Sam dosed up on meds but psychic boy? That was a long time no see. He wasn’t rejoicing with the idea.
“Do you have any idea who he could have been talking to?” he tried.
She shrugged.
“One of the nurses said she heard a name”
Dean gave her a pressing glare. She sighed.
“Bobby”
Dean’s brow straightened as his eyes grew wide and serious.
“That name ring a bell to you?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Our uncle. He passed away. But you’re right, it must have been the fever”
She nodded. He asked to see his brother and she led him to his room.
His big little brother was lying in bed when he came in. Sam was sleeping in that small hospital bed of his. It made him look even smaller. Dean noticed how pale his brother was. He thanked the Doctor and she left them alone with a comforting smile.
Dean noticed the empty chair next to the bed and sat down stiffly. He still wouldn’t rest until he knew his brother was okay. Sam looked awful and the medical equipment didn’t help. It only made him look worse actually. The eldest sighed. He should have known. He should have brought the kid to the ER himself. He’d wanted to do that for so long.
There was movement on the bed and finally, his little brother stirred awake.
“Sammy?” he asked immediately.
“Dean?”
Sam looked up with wild glassy eyes. He looked exhausted and weak. Dean felt sorry for him. He didn’t envy the kid; always the one hurt and in pain.
“Yeah I’m right here”
“Took you long enough” Sam said with the beginnings of a lopsided grin.
Dean felt the tension easing off and smiled.
“Well I wanted to let you some time to make some friends, Haley Joel”
Sam’s eyes turned serious.
“Your doctor told me they heard you talking to a Bobby”
Sam swallowed. He had known his visions couldn’t have been real but he so desperately wanted them to be. He finally shrugged.
“You gonna tell me what happened?” Dean continued.
Sam shrugged again.
“Don’t know. Started feeling like crap and then I woke up here”
“No more farty donkeys ride?” Dean teased.
Sam frowned.
“What?”
Dean’s smile died down.
“Nothing”
They looked at each other in silence. Dean was happy to see his brother breathe. He was used to the coughing by now but it didn’t make it any easier.
“I knew it. I should have brought you here sooner”
Sam shook his head.
“You know they can’t do anything for me, Dean”
“But they can make it easier”
Sam looked at him solemnly.
“I’m not getting better though”
Dean nodded and looked down, rubbing the stubble on his chin with calloused fingers.
“I know” Dean admitted.
“But damn it, Sammy. You scared the living crap out of me! I came back and you were just… gone”
Sam bowed his head in shame.
“Sorry” he mumbled.
Dean shook his head to actually try to shake the tears away.
“You know how these trials are messing with you. I hate to see you in such pain. Yeah I know you’re in pain. I see it. You’re shaky, sweaty… you’re also irritable and that goes without mentioning the coughing up blood”
Sam put his hand on top of his brother’s.
“I’m doing it for the best, Dean. Mom, Dad, Ellen, Jo… Bobby… even Henry… they died so that we could live on and carry on with their legacy.
If we don’t honor that, we let their deaths be in vain”
Dean stared at him in shock.
“Don’t you think we’ve atoned for that a million times now?”
Sam shook his head.
“It’ll never be enough. People will keep dying. I can do this, Dean. I can end it all for good. I won’t give up until it’s over”
Dean looked away because he couldn’t bear the emotions anymore. When he found Sam’s eyes again, he saw that old wisdom in them. Sam had made up his mind and there was nothing that could hold him back now.
“Believe in me, Dean. I can do this. It will be better when it’s over”
Dean opened his mouth to speak but the words caught in his throat.
“But what if you don’t get better”
Sam shook his head.
“The world will be a better place. You deserve this, Dean. After all we’ve done. You’ll finally be free”
Dean’s eyes watered but he held his composure. He wouldn’t crumble just yet.
“If anybody can do this, it’ll be you, right?” Dean finally said, a slight smile starting to creep up his lips.
Sam smiled.
“I have great support” he joked.
Dean almost blushed. He was just doing what needed to be done. He didn’t need his brother telling him how grateful he was. It’s just what they did for each other.
“Okay Samantha, now I’m really starting to think that you are high”
Sam rolled his eyes. Of course, in the face of a chick flick, his brother would run away.
“Whatever, Dean. Can we get the hell out of dodge?”
Dean studied his brother.
“Well you do sound much better without all that coughing. How ‘bout I let you crash here for a little while?”
“Dean!”
“Whiny Sammy. Your temp climbed to 107, you could have fried that geeky brain of yours!”
Sam rolled his eyes.
“But I’m fine now!”
“Sure you are. Why don’t you sleep a little?”
The youngest snorted.
“Damn it, Dean. You’re such a mother-hen!”
Dean smiled.
“Yeah, love you too, Sammy”
Sam snorted then stiffened all of a sudden. Dean looked up in surprise.
“What?”
“I remember now! Metatron! He was in the motel with us!”
“You sure?”
Dean looked suspicious. Sam had been seeing things after all.
“Yeah! The motel manager, he was delivering books to him!”
“Who? Doctor Scowly-Scowl?” Dean asked with a huge grin.
Sam’s eyes were wild and Dean looked amused. The youngest then frowned.
“Dean what’s up with the weird jokes?”
Dean chuckled.
“Aw Sammy”
Sam looked confused which seemed to amuse Dean even more.
“Whatever. Dean! It was right there in front of us. Metatron was right there!”
“Yeah I hear you, Sammy”
Sam’s eyes were wild.
“So? We’re not going to do anything?”
“We? No. You are going to rest and I’ll take care of Metatron”
Sam rolled his eyes and pouted.
“But De…”
“No whining, kiddo. You need your beauty sleep. You do look like crap”
Sam looked hurt.
“Right back at you, jerk” he finally rasped.
Dean smiled. He stood and grabbed the blanket to bring it up over his little brother’s enormous chest.
“Yeah sure. Come on. Nap time for Sammy”
“Dude I’m not five”
“You’ll always be my kid brother no matter how old you are”
Sam smiled slightly. He was indeed tired and felt the pull of sleep tug on his eyelids.
“That’s so cheesy, Dean” he teased, his eyes half closed.
“Humor me for a sec. I mean it. Let me take care of you just this once and then we’ll hit the road, alive and kicking”
Sam smiled and his eyes finally closed completely.
“’kay”
Dean grinned.
“Atta boy, Sammy!”
He watched his brother sleep. Sam’s temperature slowly lowered while his sats increased. Dean finally allowed his exhausted smile to break and his eyes watered. He looked around the room and sighed.
“Thanks Bobby. You saved my kid”
“Anytime, idjit”
THE END
AN2: That’s it! I hope you liked it! That was completely schmoopy from me but I needed this after last week’s episode. I miss the fluffy brotherly moments. I have no idea where that came from either. Actually the Bobby thing was kind of a dream I had last night. Seeing him spoon-feed Sam I just needed to write it down! haha.
AN3: I actually enjoyed writing this. Maybe the fact that I’m sick with a lame cold didn’t help either. Yeah that’s it, lack of oxygen to the brain will lead to weird things! Lol. Feedback is love though. Thanks for reading!
Author: lauehime
Characters: Sam, Dean, Special guest ;)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family, Angst
Pairing: Gen
Word Count: +/- 4,500
Warnings: Spoilers for season 8, minor cussing and too much fluff for my own good :P
Summary:Tag to “The Great Escapist”. Sam didn’t have time to call Dean before he collapsed. But someone was there because he wakes up in the hospital. There’s a familiar face next to him but it can’t be. He’s got a fever, right. That must be it. He’s just being delirious.
Author’s note: This is a one shot that I needed to be written. The idea came knocking at my door and that evil plot bunny has been tormenting me until I wrote it down. It started as a dream and led to this. It’s quite funny actually. My brain’s doing funny things. Oh well, see for yourself!
Disclaimer: I do not own the show or its characters. That would be Kripke’s. And I don’t make profit. It’s just pure fun playing with those boys.
SPN
The walls waltzed in a frenzy hand-in-hand dance, making his head spin. The lights were too bright, flicking in and out and burning at his retinas. The dark ceiling threatened to swallow the ugly paintings and the dusty beige tile that made up the hallway. Why did his room appear to be so out of reach? He hadn’t strayed that far away. Had he?
He wasn’t sure of anything but the spinning of his head and the burning feeling of his entrails combusted into an inferno that had been devouring him slowly for days. Waves of chills assaulted him at the same time, making it hard to stand on his wobbly legs. His body must have been trying to extinguish the fire. It’s all he wished for. For the fire to burn away to ashes. For the heat to abate. For the feeling of sickness to wash away.
The lights flicked on bright and brighter, blinding him. He had to turn his head away from the beam of a thousand suns that reflected on his glassy eyes and on his sleeked cheeks. The cold rivulets of sweat pearled down from his hairline; down his neck and onto his shoulders. It leaked down his back and made him feel so much heavier. Gravity was pulling at him. Why was he sweating anyway when all he felt was this icy feeling weighting down the pit of his stomach?
He wanted it to stop. For the noises to die down. For the lights to flicker off. For his room to be in his reach. He stumbled a little further, mustering all the strength he had left. He finally made it to the motel room and fumbled his way inside. A gust of heat winded from his toes up to his head. He couldn’t think clearly but something clawed at the back of his mind.
Something? No someone. He should call someone and let them know he wasn’t feeling too good. But he couldn’t remember who or even how to. The darkness engulfed him until he knew no more.
His gigantic body crumpled to the ground, all air rushing out of his lungs when he met the solid floor. He sunk into oblivion even before he hit the ground. Heat waves were still radiating out of him.
The lights flickered on and off and a light chill blew into the room.
Idjit.
The ambulance picked up speed towards the emergency room. They hadn’t wasted any time as soon as they got the call. Of course, the man wouldn’t make it if they did. You didn’t see such a case of a fever every day. That man had to be cooled down or he would roast.
The ER was ready to take him as soon as he was wheeled in. The man was unresponsive and dangerously hot. They wheeled him inside as quickly as it was humanly possible. The patients were pushed away by nurses in light green gowns and that man - so tall but so small - on the gurney. His face was pale, almost translucent, and the creases underneath his eyes were deep. The skin of his cheeks also dug around his cheekbones.
The flurry was enough to gather people’s attention. There was no time to waste trying to look show-fabulous either way. The man on the gurney was possibly dying. Doctors rushed in to give a helping hand. He wouldn’t last long unless they moved fast.
An elderly nurse started stripping the unconscious man of his clothes. A younger one soon followed her lead. At any other given time, they would have gaped at that body. They would have shared nods and lopsided amused smiles. But not this time. There was no time to waste even for a pretty boy like him. That meant setting up an IV and ensuring a proper feed of oxygen; barking medical jargon like getting his sats up and cooling core temperature to 102.
As soon as he was stripped off his clothes, they covered his boiling body with ice. The first layer was already melting away on the plastic sheet he was lying on. They monitored his temperature while it went down. The process was slow. The man under the pile of ice didn’t surface into the land of consciousness but he did start shivering. A nurse grabbed a vial and injected something into his IV line. The shivering died down.
It took a few hours for his temperature to reach 102. When it did, they took him away and dressed him. He earned his own backless gown and bed in his own room. He still had yet to arouse.
When he first did, it started with a groan. It was soon followed by fluttering lashes. He pulled in a deep breath and slivers of hazel opened to the world. This world was blurry and sounds were dulled. He took in the throbbing in his head and the distant unfamiliar sounds. There was that beeping and that whooshing too. Turning his head around proved to be difficult but also brought on surprises.
There was an old man sitting next to him. He knew that man from somewhere but his brain couldn’t process the information. Somehow it didn’t make any sense. His whole brain didn’t make any sense anyhow. Where was he and why was he so cold?
But then the machinery clicked into place and he recognized things for what they were. The gown, the heart monitor, the IVs…
“You’ve got to be kidding me” he breathed out, forcing himself to lift a heavy hand to tug at the tube tied around his face. His arm slumped on his lap before he could reach his goal. The old man hissed.
“Will ya leave that alone, idjit?! Just get some rest”
He frowned, confused and disoriented.
“What the hell happened?”
He was taking deep breaths. What struck him the most was that he could actually breathe.
“Been pushing yourself too hard, kid. Found you passed out on the floor with a temperature of 107. It needed to come down”
His frown deepened. He could hardly remember anything but the buzzing motel corridor with the load of books he had found. The rest was a blur. A jumble of colors and smells and sounds. There was that heat too. He remembered the painful heat and the racking cold chills.
“Are you really… real?”
The old man smiled and rubbed the rim of his cap with the tips of calloused fingers.
“How ‘bout we discuss that later? Either way, that pretty nurse just gave ya a shot of that good stuff they’ve been pumping you with”
He understood the implications of that statement when he started to feel his heavy eyelids droop.
“Shouldn’t be here… they can’t do anything for me” he slurred, trying his hardest to keep his eyes open.
“Sorry kiddo. Couldn’t let ya toast either”
He understood the concern behind the apology and nodded. He didn’t find the strength in him to argue. When the nurse came in to take his temperature, she noticed the peaceful look on his face. He already looked ten times better than when he’d first come in.
He woke up again sometime later. The drugs were wearing off and he felt somewhat groggy. He could compare it to waking up with a nasty hangover and very little memories of the previously-lived embarrassment. The smiling old man was still there and greeted him with a smile.
“You still here?”
“And why would I want to leave your lovely mug?”
He snorted. It felt strange to have the man here but it was comforting at the same time. He couldn’t deny the fact that the trials were taking their toll on him. His brother had been hovering too lately. It felt good to have company that wasn’t his mother-hen of a brother.
“Besides you’re such a joy to be around. I wouldn’t miss that for the world”
He rolled his eyes.
“Shut up” he retorted but his lips curled into one of his famous lopsided grins.
“Well, I’d let ya do the talking but we’ve got some things we need to do”
The old man nodded playfully as he pulled up the spoonful of mashed food. A look of horror crossed his eyes.
“You’re kidding, right?”
The man shook his head and sighed.
“You gotta get your strength back. Look at you, you’re a mess, kid!”
His eyes were pleading.
“But you’re not going to spoon-feed me, really?”
The old man shrugged as if he had nothing else to offer.
“It’s either that or I heard the nurses talk ‘bout force-feedin’ ya. I’m telling ya it ain’t gonna be no fun. My spoon don’t look like such a bad idea after all”
He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat.
“Can’t I do it myself?”
There was terror in his eyes. The old man smiled.
“’F course, kiddo. ‘S long as you eat”
He nodded and grabbed the offered spoon with a shaky hand. He managed to pull it to his mouth and swallowed the whole thing. It didn’t go down as smoothly as he would’ve liked. His throat was parched.
“Thirsty” he rasped.
The old man nodded and handed him a glass of water. He nodded gratefully and chugged the cold liquid. He then ate a few more bites before his shaky arms gave out. He didn’t have much strength left in him. Not eating for days was probably a good place to start to explain his weakness. Then there were the trials. Well…
“Le’me get that for ya”
He flinched away slightly.
“Please. ’M not hungry anymore”
The old man gave him a hard frown.
“I wasn’t askin’ for your permission princess. Give me the damn spoon and open that piehole of yours”
He looked miserable and ashamed but in the end, he needed the strength and the food and there was no arguing with the old man when he meant nothing but business. The dish was put away as soon as he finished the food and a thought crossed his mind.
“Dean?”
“He’s worried about you”
He closed his eyes in shame. He knew that his brother was worried but that’s not what he needed to know.
“Does he even know I’m here?”
The old man sighed.
“He’ll come. Don’t worry”
He nodded. There was a beat of silence. For a while he just concentrated on breathing. For once he didn’t feel like coughing up a lung. He would enjoy it for a moment longer.
“How is it?” he finally asked.
The old man sighed.
“Well I get to have all the Whiskey I want and watch as many soap operas as I can”
He chuckled, imagining the scene just perfectly. The man smiled but his grin died slowly until it rested as a sorrowful look of regret.
“But it gets lonely” the old man admitted.
“You finally got to be free”
“What you call freedom, I call wasting away. I’m useless where I am”
He gave him a look of sympathy.
“You’ve never been useless! Your legacy lives on”
The old man smiled sadly. There was the shadow of tears in his eyes.
“I just don’t know what to do when I’m not saving your asses or standing between you boys’ banter”
It was his turn to smile but it only held pleasure provided by old memories.
“We miss you too” he admitted.
What he thought to have been the shadow of tears actually turned into glistening droplets. But then the old man's face became serious again.
“That’s no reason to check out early and to try to join me though”
“I didn’t mean it like that” he started but he was cut off short.
“Like hell you didn’t! And what was that all about? Winchesters’ penchant for sacrifice? Is that any way to honor your legacy?”
He closed his eyes and bowed his head.
“It’s what I’m trying to do actually. I’m willing to do anything to close the Gates of Hell for good. All of this won’t be for naught when I’ve cleansed the world free of demons!”
The old man stared him down solemnly.
“You’ve come a long way, kid. But you haven’t changed one bit. I hear the same speech years after the Apocalypse that you went to Hell to prevent”
“Exactly. I’ve done this before. I’m not scared”
“But you’re damned stupid! Don’t you remember the last time? Don’t you remember all of what you went through when you came back from Hell? Do you really think this time’s going to be any different?”
He looked at the old man with serious eyes. He almost looked like an aged man himself, one blessed with wisdom.
“It will be. Because if I go anywhere, I’m not going to come back” he announced.
“What the hell are you sayin’?”
“That if I’m gone. I want to stay gone”
The old man scrutinized him with his piercing blue eyes.
“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? It’s not freedom that awaits for you, it’s loneliness”
He shrugged. He actually looked decided and content with his decision.
“I heard what you said when you reminded me of the pain that I have caused when I came back from Hell. I’m not gonna let this happen again”
The old man held his gaze. They stared at each other for lingering seconds.
“My god you get weepy when you’re high” the old man blurted out.
He looked at the old man in disbelief. He didn’t know what to think and instead stared with a dumbfounded look.
A nurse walked inside the room at that right moment, clutching her pad to her chest and looking at him with a concerned look.
“You’re awake I see. Is everything okay?”
He looked at the old man and then back at the nurse.
“When can I get out of here?”
“Sir, you were severely hyperthermic and dehydrated when you came in here. Your temperature’s still high and your sats aren’t optimal. Do you understand that it might take a while for you to be well enough to leave? Besides, we’re still not sure what’s causing it. If you don’t mind, we’d like to run more tests”
He shook his head.
“I just want my brother. He doesn’t know I’m here”
She frowned.
“Do you want us to contact your brother?”
He nodded. She nodded back and left with a suspicious last glance to the side of the bed. He closed his eyes and once again focused on breathing.
“You get some rest before your brother gets here. You’re gonna need it”
He wanted to argue but he didn’t find the strength. He just fell into a dreamless slumber.
When Dean received the phone call from the hospital, his heart skipped a few beats. He had come home to an empty motel room, void of any gigantic feverish brothers. He’d been scared out of his mind ever since. Sam had been gone for the whole day before he got the call. He could have been dead for all Dean knew. If it weren’t for the hospital, his brother might have been. But then again, what happened for Sam to be in the hospital in the first place? He’d been threatening to bring the kid for weeks and Sam had just repeated over again that they couldn’t do anything to help him.
It’s the physician who answered all of his questions. She was in her late thirties and Dean wasn’t oblivious to her charms. If it weren’t for the fact that he was in a freaking hospital with his brother somewhere in there, he would have actually flirted. Or tried to. But it didn’t matter now.
“Where’s Sam? What’s wrong with him?”
“We’ve received an anonymous call that your brother had passed out with a body temperature of 107”
“107? Fuck.” Yeah. Fuck Sam.
The Doctor pretended she hadn’t heard. 107? Yeah, fuck! The boy was lucky to be alive.
“We forced it down with whole-body ice packing. Basically, we covered him with ice. We also gave him Lorazepam to keep him from being too agitated. He was rather unresponsive at first though, which raised my concern regarding his health”
Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew it was bad but fuck, Sam!
“What’s wrong with my brother?”
She gave him a look that he didn’t like. He had seen it too many times in his line of work. It was that one puzzled look that everyone gave him when they had absolutely no clue. Because yeah, the trials. That wasn’t something the ER dealt with on a regular basis.
“Honestly, we’ve ran many tests but… we just don’t know. There’s the fever and there’s the breathing”
“What’s up with that” Dean blurted out, managing to cut her off.
She sighed.
“His saturation level is still low. We don’t know why. His lungs appear to be fine but he can’t get enough air. We have him on oxygen until his
sats improve”
Dean’s eyes were wide open. He stood there, gaping. Fuck, Sam.
“But did he wake up? Is he okay?” he stuttered.
She nodded but her eyes held something that worried him. They were sorry. He hated that look. He didn’t need pity. Sam was strong and had gone through worse shit than this. This was just regular Sunday afternoon for them. Right?
“He’s been acting strangely. But it’s probably just the fever that’s making him a little delirious”
Was she trying to comfort him? That is most definitely not what he wanted to hear. That’s not what he needed.
“Tell me. What did he do?”
She looked embarrassed as if she was ashamed for starting fires where there were probably none. Pissing Dean off wasn’t something she wanted to try either, especially if it was for naught.
“It’s no big deal really… he’s just been… talking”
Dean’s body clenched. Talking? Like what? Had Sam been delirious enough to tell them all about demons and the supernatural world? After all, his brother was kinda chatty when he was delirious from fever. He thought about Sam recalling his supposedly-true farty donkeys story; a memory which he himself didn’t even remember.
“Talking?” he echoed, Sam’s fevered laugh replaying in the tired haze in his brain.
“Yeah talking. As if there were someone with him”
Dean frowned.
“And?”
“Well, he’s been alone the whole time. Came in here alone and you’re the first one to visit”
Dean’s frown deepened. He knew all about loopy Sam dosed up on meds but psychic boy? That was a long time no see. He wasn’t rejoicing with the idea.
“Do you have any idea who he could have been talking to?” he tried.
She shrugged.
“One of the nurses said she heard a name”
Dean gave her a pressing glare. She sighed.
“Bobby”
Dean’s brow straightened as his eyes grew wide and serious.
“That name ring a bell to you?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Our uncle. He passed away. But you’re right, it must have been the fever”
She nodded. He asked to see his brother and she led him to his room.
His big little brother was lying in bed when he came in. Sam was sleeping in that small hospital bed of his. It made him look even smaller. Dean noticed how pale his brother was. He thanked the Doctor and she left them alone with a comforting smile.
Dean noticed the empty chair next to the bed and sat down stiffly. He still wouldn’t rest until he knew his brother was okay. Sam looked awful and the medical equipment didn’t help. It only made him look worse actually. The eldest sighed. He should have known. He should have brought the kid to the ER himself. He’d wanted to do that for so long.
There was movement on the bed and finally, his little brother stirred awake.
“Sammy?” he asked immediately.
“Dean?”
Sam looked up with wild glassy eyes. He looked exhausted and weak. Dean felt sorry for him. He didn’t envy the kid; always the one hurt and in pain.
“Yeah I’m right here”
“Took you long enough” Sam said with the beginnings of a lopsided grin.
Dean felt the tension easing off and smiled.
“Well I wanted to let you some time to make some friends, Haley Joel”
Sam’s eyes turned serious.
“Your doctor told me they heard you talking to a Bobby”
Sam swallowed. He had known his visions couldn’t have been real but he so desperately wanted them to be. He finally shrugged.
“You gonna tell me what happened?” Dean continued.
Sam shrugged again.
“Don’t know. Started feeling like crap and then I woke up here”
“No more farty donkeys ride?” Dean teased.
Sam frowned.
“What?”
Dean’s smile died down.
“Nothing”
They looked at each other in silence. Dean was happy to see his brother breathe. He was used to the coughing by now but it didn’t make it any easier.
“I knew it. I should have brought you here sooner”
Sam shook his head.
“You know they can’t do anything for me, Dean”
“But they can make it easier”
Sam looked at him solemnly.
“I’m not getting better though”
Dean nodded and looked down, rubbing the stubble on his chin with calloused fingers.
“I know” Dean admitted.
“But damn it, Sammy. You scared the living crap out of me! I came back and you were just… gone”
Sam bowed his head in shame.
“Sorry” he mumbled.
Dean shook his head to actually try to shake the tears away.
“You know how these trials are messing with you. I hate to see you in such pain. Yeah I know you’re in pain. I see it. You’re shaky, sweaty… you’re also irritable and that goes without mentioning the coughing up blood”
Sam put his hand on top of his brother’s.
“I’m doing it for the best, Dean. Mom, Dad, Ellen, Jo… Bobby… even Henry… they died so that we could live on and carry on with their legacy.
If we don’t honor that, we let their deaths be in vain”
Dean stared at him in shock.
“Don’t you think we’ve atoned for that a million times now?”
Sam shook his head.
“It’ll never be enough. People will keep dying. I can do this, Dean. I can end it all for good. I won’t give up until it’s over”
Dean looked away because he couldn’t bear the emotions anymore. When he found Sam’s eyes again, he saw that old wisdom in them. Sam had made up his mind and there was nothing that could hold him back now.
“Believe in me, Dean. I can do this. It will be better when it’s over”
Dean opened his mouth to speak but the words caught in his throat.
“But what if you don’t get better”
Sam shook his head.
“The world will be a better place. You deserve this, Dean. After all we’ve done. You’ll finally be free”
Dean’s eyes watered but he held his composure. He wouldn’t crumble just yet.
“If anybody can do this, it’ll be you, right?” Dean finally said, a slight smile starting to creep up his lips.
Sam smiled.
“I have great support” he joked.
Dean almost blushed. He was just doing what needed to be done. He didn’t need his brother telling him how grateful he was. It’s just what they did for each other.
“Okay Samantha, now I’m really starting to think that you are high”
Sam rolled his eyes. Of course, in the face of a chick flick, his brother would run away.
“Whatever, Dean. Can we get the hell out of dodge?”
Dean studied his brother.
“Well you do sound much better without all that coughing. How ‘bout I let you crash here for a little while?”
“Dean!”
“Whiny Sammy. Your temp climbed to 107, you could have fried that geeky brain of yours!”
Sam rolled his eyes.
“But I’m fine now!”
“Sure you are. Why don’t you sleep a little?”
The youngest snorted.
“Damn it, Dean. You’re such a mother-hen!”
Dean smiled.
“Yeah, love you too, Sammy”
Sam snorted then stiffened all of a sudden. Dean looked up in surprise.
“What?”
“I remember now! Metatron! He was in the motel with us!”
“You sure?”
Dean looked suspicious. Sam had been seeing things after all.
“Yeah! The motel manager, he was delivering books to him!”
“Who? Doctor Scowly-Scowl?” Dean asked with a huge grin.
Sam’s eyes were wild and Dean looked amused. The youngest then frowned.
“Dean what’s up with the weird jokes?”
Dean chuckled.
“Aw Sammy”
Sam looked confused which seemed to amuse Dean even more.
“Whatever. Dean! It was right there in front of us. Metatron was right there!”
“Yeah I hear you, Sammy”
Sam’s eyes were wild.
“So? We’re not going to do anything?”
“We? No. You are going to rest and I’ll take care of Metatron”
Sam rolled his eyes and pouted.
“But De…”
“No whining, kiddo. You need your beauty sleep. You do look like crap”
Sam looked hurt.
“Right back at you, jerk” he finally rasped.
Dean smiled. He stood and grabbed the blanket to bring it up over his little brother’s enormous chest.
“Yeah sure. Come on. Nap time for Sammy”
“Dude I’m not five”
“You’ll always be my kid brother no matter how old you are”
Sam smiled slightly. He was indeed tired and felt the pull of sleep tug on his eyelids.
“That’s so cheesy, Dean” he teased, his eyes half closed.
“Humor me for a sec. I mean it. Let me take care of you just this once and then we’ll hit the road, alive and kicking”
Sam smiled and his eyes finally closed completely.
“’kay”
Dean grinned.
“Atta boy, Sammy!”
He watched his brother sleep. Sam’s temperature slowly lowered while his sats increased. Dean finally allowed his exhausted smile to break and his eyes watered. He looked around the room and sighed.
“Thanks Bobby. You saved my kid”
“Anytime, idjit”
THE END
AN2: That’s it! I hope you liked it! That was completely schmoopy from me but I needed this after last week’s episode. I miss the fluffy brotherly moments. I have no idea where that came from either. Actually the Bobby thing was kind of a dream I had last night. Seeing him spoon-feed Sam I just needed to write it down! haha.
AN3: I actually enjoyed writing this. Maybe the fact that I’m sick with a lame cold didn’t help either. Yeah that’s it, lack of oxygen to the brain will lead to weird things! Lol. Feedback is love though. Thanks for reading!