Fic: Picking up the Pieces (SPN) Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Six
Sam wasn’t sure if Dean remembered their talk that night, about dad, and all the things he’d revealed. Very telling things about his current mental state. Even how they talked about Katie. Sam wasn’t sure. But he dare not ask. Whatever it was, whatever had broken in Dean that night had somehow transitioned into where he was now. Almost back to his macho self, wanting to push through. Determined. Driven. Dean. For some reason, though, it made Sam uneasy. He didn’t want Dean pushing it too far. He was in a really fragile state, physically and mentally. And Sam didn’t want to count his blessings. Not too soon anyway.
Dean’s back was healing though. He was doing the right things. Staying on top of the exercises the physio gave him, taking short walks, stretching. He was going to be in pain for a long time, maybe forever, but for now his back was as stable as it was going to get, bones fused and held together with rods and pins and things they probably had to drill in… it’s a wonder Dean had even consented to the surgery in the first place. After… everything he’d been through. Sam shuddered to think. It was going to be a long recovery, but he was recovering. The complications with the pneumonia didn’t make things any easier on him. That was probably the most worrying thing at this point. His voice was still strained. He couldn’t lie down for too long without getting this pain in his chest from the build up of fluid. He was coughing all the time, and was out of breath from just walking down the hall. He still occasionally pulled the nebuliser out when it got really bad.
Sam stared into his coffee cup, tilting it back and forth and watching the liquid move. Sometimes he had to stop and think. Catalogue Dean’s problems. Not only was his back still mending, and his lungs still struggling, he was still stricken with nightmares, barely sleeping, and blacking out at weird moments whether he was triggered or not. Sam tried to believe he wasn’t drinking but he had his doubts. He couldn’t watch him every second.
So, what was it then? Broken back, pneumonia with pleural effusion, recent shoulder surgery, PTSD, alcoholism, hepatitis… Sam put his face in his hands.
“What’s eatin’ you, Francis?”
Dean had wandered into the kitchen and was staring at him, one eyebrow raised, hand on the handle of the fridge.
Sam smiled, lifting his head, “Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”
Dean frowned, “You getting some sleep? Those ribs getting any worse?”
Sam warmed inside. It was nice having his brother back. The moments like this, where Dean seemed more like himself, were few and far between. Sam relished them when he had them now, wishing he’d done the same before Dean had gone to hell.
“Nah, they’re about the same. I’m alright, just not used to your industrial pain killers, man. How do you even stand upright on them?”
“Practice,” Dean smirked and opened the fridge.
Sam looked at his watch, “Dude, I made you a sandwich an hour ago.”
“And I’m hungry.”
Sam chuckled.
Knock, knock, knock.
Dean turned, looking at Sam, eyebrows furrowed. Sam returned the stare and got up, heading to the door and opening it.
“Hi. Sam, right? We’ve met.”
“Yeah, Katie, hi,” Sam smiled politely, as Katie stood on their front porch.
Sam heard Dean approach from behind him.
“Hey,” he said, and Sam stepped aside, “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, I wanted to talk to you.”
Dean swallowed, elevated his chin slightly.
“If you’ll let me.”
Dean coughed twice into his fist, “Let’s take a walk.”
Sam gave a tiny nod and backed off as Dean shut the front door behind him.
…
Dean pulled his boots on in awkward silence as Katie watched him. He fought a little head rush when he’d straightened.
“You sure you wanna go for a walk? Are you feeling okay?”
Dean suppressed a groan, clearly he looked about as good as he felt, “I’m fine.”
They went slowly down the few stairs at the front of the house and didn’t speak until they’d made it about ten metres down the street.
“Dean, I -“
“Stop.”
She sighed, eyes shiny, “I just want to explain.”
“No… I want to explain. Some… stuff happened to me. Bad stuff. Awful… stuff I can’t even…”
Her hand hovered near his arm but didn’t touch him.
“And I’m not okay… at all. I drink too much and I don’t sleep most nights, and I can’t stop… remembering it. All of it,” Dean paused, biting his lip, wondering if he should even be talking about all this, “You know, when I was in hospital they made me see a shrink.”
“I’m sorry -“
“And part of me thinks, you know, maybe I should see someone, but I can’t because I’ll have to talk about it and I, I, I just can’t.”
“I didn’t know.”
Dean sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, “Maybe I acted like a dick. I’m sorry. But it felt like a deception. You were a good thing… something else to think about. But now…”
Katie looked down and discreetly wiped a tear.
“Katie, you’re young and beautiful. A guy like me… you should run like hell,” he said softly.
“Dean, I never started this whole thing because I wanted to try and fix you. Obviously I’m interested in how the human mind works, it’s why I was studying psychology. So, yes, I found you interesting. I wanted to understand, but it’s more than that. I really, truly do want to help you get through this, because I like you, a little more than just a friend. I understand if you don't feel that way.”
Dean sighed, stopping to sit on a park bench. He was starting to pant like he’d run a marathon trying to walk and talk at the same time. Katie sat next to him, body turned towards him.
He paused, cleared his throat, watched a neighbour walking their dog.
“I don’t.”
Katie looked down and Dean didn’t even glance over. He knew she was crying.
“Because I can’t. There’s too much going on in my life right now.”
“That’s okay,” she said, nodding.
“I’m sorry.”
Katie brought a hand to her face and wiped a tear, Dean still didn’t look at her.
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
Dean sniffed, “Feels like it.”
He bent forward and rested his elbows on his knees, releasing a cough that came rumbling out of his chest.
She touched him for the first time, putting a delicate hand on his back and rubbing up and down as he shuddered with coughs. This was what he liked. To be touched. That was why just having sex with girls was so much easier than all of this… feelings crap.
“You have a lot of people that care about you, Dean.”
Dean rubbed his fingers across his brow.
“Yeah, guess so,” he muttered. Mainly because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Katie sighed and when he glanced over at her she was smiling, tears glistening on her cheeks, “I should go. Do you want me to walk back with you?”
Dean shook his head, “Nah, I’ll… sit for a while.”
She stood and put her hands in her pockets, “I’ll see ya, Dean.”
Dean nodded and offered her a small smile. He didn’t watch as she walked away. He didn't even look.
…
Sam looked out the window and saw Katie’s car was gone from out the front.
“Bobby?” Sam called.
“Yeah?” he heard echo from the older hunter’s room.
“Has Dean come back yet?”
Bobby came down the hall, confused expression on his face, “Haven’t seen him.”
Sam furrowed his brow and opened the front door.
“I’ll find him.”
Bobby nodded, “Call me if you need me.”
Sam nodded back and closed the door behind him.
He headed down the street in the direction he watched they had taken. It wasn’t long before he found his brother. Sitting on a park bench, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, head down.
He heard him cough from down the street, watched his shoulder’s sag even further. He looked wrecked.
Sam didn’t say anything. He knew Dean had seen him coming, and knew he didn’t have to announce his presence.
He sat down beside his brother, hands in his pockets and stared straight ahead. They were silent for a while before Sam spoke.
“You okay?”
Dean sighed, ending with a cough, “Yeah, fantastic,” he said sarcastically.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“I want my life back, Sam.”
Sam looked straight at his brother for the first time since he sat down.
“I want out of this stupid town.”
Sam grimaced, looking back down at his shoes, “I know you do.”
Dean coughed again, then groaned, “Alright, help me up, dude.”
Sam grabbed Dean’s arm and helped him stand.
The brothers walked down the street shoulder to shoulder. Dean was a little slow but not as slow as he had been, and he wasn’t limping or favouring one side over the other and that was good.
Dean sniffed, “You got work today?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, glancing sidelong at his brother.
Dean just nodded his head and kept his gaze forward.
“You wanna… come with me?”
Dean furrowed his brow and looked at Sam, “You serious?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Dean looked confused, “Like to work?”
Sam smiled, “To do whatever, man. If you just wanna hang out, have dinner and hustle pool, that’s fine. If you wanna give me a hand that works too. I’m gonna need a few breaks today, my ribs are really bothering me… I could use your help.”
“Don’t know if I should be hustling pool for a while…” Dean muttered, cynically.
“You just gotta pick your marks a bit better,” Sam smirked.
Dean grinned and eyed him, “Shut up,” he moaned.
…
Sam drove them both down to the clinic before work. Dean had to have another chest x-ray to make sure his pleural effusion had resolved. It was an in/out job. The radiologist didn’t tell him anything, just that she’d fax her report and the images of to his GP. Dean was happy enough with that. He didn’t want to have to deal with any more health issues at the moment. He just wanted to get to the bar and see Riley… and put his hands all over her…
…
Dean looked over the bar to where Sam was sitting, having a half hour break. Dean knew Sam was hurting but he also knew that this was mainly for his benefit. Sam could tell he was itchy, wanting to get out, sick of the monotony. This was his olive branch. And at the moment it was enough.
“Hey, handsome. Wanna help me bring a keg up?”
Dean raised his eyebrow and flicked his gaze to Riley, who had her hip popped, leaning against the bar. She was wearing short, tight black shorts. He followed her long olive skinned legs with his eyes, down to the floor where she had black converse shoes on. He took a breath in, then found her eyes again.
“What are you kidding?”
She smirked, “No, I…” she approached, “really need you to help bring a keg up… you know, out the back, from the storeroom…”
Dean grinned, looking down.
Riley stepped out towards the back, walking backwards, eyes not leaving his.
“Come on, stud. You don’t want me to have to… do it by myself, do you?” She winked.
Dean cleared his throat and signalled Sam.
Sam furrowed his brow and came over.
“What’s up?”
“I’m tapping you in.”
“You okay?”
“Oh, I will be.”
“Huh?”
Dean just smiled.
…
Riley had her legs wrapped around Dean’s waist, her backside parked on top of a stack of beer cartons. Dean kissed her neck, teeth skimming her jaw line as they moved against each other.
“Yeah, I’ll just get another keg!”
“Oh, shit,” Riley whispered in Dean’s ear as the door to the storeroom opened.
“Whoa! Oh my god, sorry, guys!” Jake, the young bartender, backed out of the room.
Riley pushed Dean off, “Shit,” she said again.
Dean laughed, doing up his pants and fastening his belt, “What’s the big deal?”
“I’m that kids boss, Dean,” Riley muttered, pulling her hair back in a ponytail.
“Hey, it was your idea,” Dean put his hands around the curves of her waist.
Riley smiled, going weak.
Dean turned around and coughed into the crook of his elbow. He sucked a sharp breath in.
“Hey, you okay?”
Her hand was on his back.
Dean sipped a few more controlled breaths, his chest sending tendrils of fire around his sides to his back where her hand lay. He put a hand out and leaned against the shelf, bracing himself for another cough that was clawing it’s way up. When he started, it honestly felt like he’d never stop.
“Dean?” Riley’s hands were firm, rubbing up and down either side of his spine.
He went down on one knee.
“Dean, honey, breathe…”
Dean finally managed to swallow down over the cough and get an uninterrupted breath, “That sucked,” he muttered.
Her fingers ran up through his hair, “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
Dean pushed himself back up and Riley helped, grabbing his trembling arm, “No, I’m good.”
“You sure?” She crinkled her brow and Dean reached out a finger to smooth it away.
“Stop worrying. I’m alright.”
“Okay,” she said, gaze curious, “Come back upstairs and sit down for a minute.”
“Yeah, not a bad idea.”
…
It was a bad idea. A very bad idea. For Dean to be working in a bar right now. He wanted a drink more than anything. If he could just get one drop. One sip without anyone noticing, he’d be golden. He knew he was being watched though. Between Sam and Riley tag teaming he had no chance. His chest was warm, a heat radiating from the inside. It was uncomfortable. He couldn’t get away from it. And coughing only made the damn thing worse.
He was sitting at the bar, watching the others work while he rested from his most recent coughing fit that had taken a lot out of him, when his phone rang.
“Hello,” he answered, trying to muffle another cough in his sleeve.
“Hi, Dean. It’s Dr Reid.”
“Oh, hey, what up, doc?” Dean grumbled.
“I just looked at the report from your chest x-ray this afternoon and I think you should come into the hospital.”
Dean’s heart beat a little faster, “When?”
“Well, tonight. Now, if you could.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you need to come in as soon as possible.”
Dean sighed, “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“The effusion hasn’t resolved like I’d hoped. It’s actually gotten worse, to the point where there’s severely decreased lung function.”
“Yeah, and what are you going to do to me?”
“Dean… we should discuss this at the hospital when you get here.”
“No, we can discuss it now.”
He heard Dr Reid sigh on the other end of the phone, “We need to insert a tube in between your ribs to drain off the excess fluid.”
“Forget it,” Dean snapped, feeling his hands start tingling, mind flashing back to the things they’d stuck in him in hell.
“Dean, I know it’s quite invasive but I assure you it’s completely necessary…”
Dean’s hearing turned fuzzy and he could no longer hear Dr Reid. His mind filled with white noise, crippling, debilitating white noise, and then the screams came, and he felt it. He felt the knife being driven into his side, carving through his chest like they were serving up BBQ pork ribs. He felt his lungs fill with blood and it flooded all the way up his throat until he was coughing and spewing blood out his mouth in great pools.
“Dean! Are you there?”
Dean’s chest was heaving, his vision blurring. He was panting into the phone, and he almost dropped it his hands were shaking so much.
“Dean, what’s going on?”
Dean took a few more breaths to calm himself, “I said forget it,” he managed to mutter with his dry tongue.
He hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket, shakily finding his way across the room to the men’s room.
Thankfully no one was in there when he got there, and he threw up in the sink. Sweat in his hairline. When he’d finally managed to calm his racing heart, he threw some water on his face and stumbled back out. Sam was watching him as he came back to the bar.
“You okay?” Sam asked, worry etched in his features.
“’Course,” Dean straightened up and plastered on a grin, “Never better.”
…
Sam wasn’t sure if Dean remembered their talk that night, about dad, and all the things he’d revealed. Very telling things about his current mental state. Even how they talked about Katie. Sam wasn’t sure. But he dare not ask. Whatever it was, whatever had broken in Dean that night had somehow transitioned into where he was now. Almost back to his macho self, wanting to push through. Determined. Driven. Dean. For some reason, though, it made Sam uneasy. He didn’t want Dean pushing it too far. He was in a really fragile state, physically and mentally. And Sam didn’t want to count his blessings. Not too soon anyway.
Dean’s back was healing though. He was doing the right things. Staying on top of the exercises the physio gave him, taking short walks, stretching. He was going to be in pain for a long time, maybe forever, but for now his back was as stable as it was going to get, bones fused and held together with rods and pins and things they probably had to drill in… it’s a wonder Dean had even consented to the surgery in the first place. After… everything he’d been through. Sam shuddered to think. It was going to be a long recovery, but he was recovering. The complications with the pneumonia didn’t make things any easier on him. That was probably the most worrying thing at this point. His voice was still strained. He couldn’t lie down for too long without getting this pain in his chest from the build up of fluid. He was coughing all the time, and was out of breath from just walking down the hall. He still occasionally pulled the nebuliser out when it got really bad.
Sam stared into his coffee cup, tilting it back and forth and watching the liquid move. Sometimes he had to stop and think. Catalogue Dean’s problems. Not only was his back still mending, and his lungs still struggling, he was still stricken with nightmares, barely sleeping, and blacking out at weird moments whether he was triggered or not. Sam tried to believe he wasn’t drinking but he had his doubts. He couldn’t watch him every second.
So, what was it then? Broken back, pneumonia with pleural effusion, recent shoulder surgery, PTSD, alcoholism, hepatitis… Sam put his face in his hands.
“What’s eatin’ you, Francis?”
Dean had wandered into the kitchen and was staring at him, one eyebrow raised, hand on the handle of the fridge.
Sam smiled, lifting his head, “Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”
Dean frowned, “You getting some sleep? Those ribs getting any worse?”
Sam warmed inside. It was nice having his brother back. The moments like this, where Dean seemed more like himself, were few and far between. Sam relished them when he had them now, wishing he’d done the same before Dean had gone to hell.
“Nah, they’re about the same. I’m alright, just not used to your industrial pain killers, man. How do you even stand upright on them?”
“Practice,” Dean smirked and opened the fridge.
Sam looked at his watch, “Dude, I made you a sandwich an hour ago.”
“And I’m hungry.”
Sam chuckled.
Knock, knock, knock.
Dean turned, looking at Sam, eyebrows furrowed. Sam returned the stare and got up, heading to the door and opening it.
“Hi. Sam, right? We’ve met.”
“Yeah, Katie, hi,” Sam smiled politely, as Katie stood on their front porch.
Sam heard Dean approach from behind him.
“Hey,” he said, and Sam stepped aside, “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, I wanted to talk to you.”
Dean swallowed, elevated his chin slightly.
“If you’ll let me.”
Dean coughed twice into his fist, “Let’s take a walk.”
Sam gave a tiny nod and backed off as Dean shut the front door behind him.
…
Dean pulled his boots on in awkward silence as Katie watched him. He fought a little head rush when he’d straightened.
“You sure you wanna go for a walk? Are you feeling okay?”
Dean suppressed a groan, clearly he looked about as good as he felt, “I’m fine.”
They went slowly down the few stairs at the front of the house and didn’t speak until they’d made it about ten metres down the street.
“Dean, I -“
“Stop.”
She sighed, eyes shiny, “I just want to explain.”
“No… I want to explain. Some… stuff happened to me. Bad stuff. Awful… stuff I can’t even…”
Her hand hovered near his arm but didn’t touch him.
“And I’m not okay… at all. I drink too much and I don’t sleep most nights, and I can’t stop… remembering it. All of it,” Dean paused, biting his lip, wondering if he should even be talking about all this, “You know, when I was in hospital they made me see a shrink.”
“I’m sorry -“
“And part of me thinks, you know, maybe I should see someone, but I can’t because I’ll have to talk about it and I, I, I just can’t.”
“I didn’t know.”
Dean sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, “Maybe I acted like a dick. I’m sorry. But it felt like a deception. You were a good thing… something else to think about. But now…”
Katie looked down and discreetly wiped a tear.
“Katie, you’re young and beautiful. A guy like me… you should run like hell,” he said softly.
“Dean, I never started this whole thing because I wanted to try and fix you. Obviously I’m interested in how the human mind works, it’s why I was studying psychology. So, yes, I found you interesting. I wanted to understand, but it’s more than that. I really, truly do want to help you get through this, because I like you, a little more than just a friend. I understand if you don't feel that way.”
Dean sighed, stopping to sit on a park bench. He was starting to pant like he’d run a marathon trying to walk and talk at the same time. Katie sat next to him, body turned towards him.
He paused, cleared his throat, watched a neighbour walking their dog.
“I don’t.”
Katie looked down and Dean didn’t even glance over. He knew she was crying.
“Because I can’t. There’s too much going on in my life right now.”
“That’s okay,” she said, nodding.
“I’m sorry.”
Katie brought a hand to her face and wiped a tear, Dean still didn’t look at her.
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
Dean sniffed, “Feels like it.”
He bent forward and rested his elbows on his knees, releasing a cough that came rumbling out of his chest.
She touched him for the first time, putting a delicate hand on his back and rubbing up and down as he shuddered with coughs. This was what he liked. To be touched. That was why just having sex with girls was so much easier than all of this… feelings crap.
“You have a lot of people that care about you, Dean.”
Dean rubbed his fingers across his brow.
“Yeah, guess so,” he muttered. Mainly because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Katie sighed and when he glanced over at her she was smiling, tears glistening on her cheeks, “I should go. Do you want me to walk back with you?”
Dean shook his head, “Nah, I’ll… sit for a while.”
She stood and put her hands in her pockets, “I’ll see ya, Dean.”
Dean nodded and offered her a small smile. He didn’t watch as she walked away. He didn't even look.
…
Sam looked out the window and saw Katie’s car was gone from out the front.
“Bobby?” Sam called.
“Yeah?” he heard echo from the older hunter’s room.
“Has Dean come back yet?”
Bobby came down the hall, confused expression on his face, “Haven’t seen him.”
Sam furrowed his brow and opened the front door.
“I’ll find him.”
Bobby nodded, “Call me if you need me.”
Sam nodded back and closed the door behind him.
He headed down the street in the direction he watched they had taken. It wasn’t long before he found his brother. Sitting on a park bench, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, head down.
He heard him cough from down the street, watched his shoulder’s sag even further. He looked wrecked.
Sam didn’t say anything. He knew Dean had seen him coming, and knew he didn’t have to announce his presence.
He sat down beside his brother, hands in his pockets and stared straight ahead. They were silent for a while before Sam spoke.
“You okay?”
Dean sighed, ending with a cough, “Yeah, fantastic,” he said sarcastically.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“I want my life back, Sam.”
Sam looked straight at his brother for the first time since he sat down.
“I want out of this stupid town.”
Sam grimaced, looking back down at his shoes, “I know you do.”
Dean coughed again, then groaned, “Alright, help me up, dude.”
Sam grabbed Dean’s arm and helped him stand.
The brothers walked down the street shoulder to shoulder. Dean was a little slow but not as slow as he had been, and he wasn’t limping or favouring one side over the other and that was good.
Dean sniffed, “You got work today?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, glancing sidelong at his brother.
Dean just nodded his head and kept his gaze forward.
“You wanna… come with me?”
Dean furrowed his brow and looked at Sam, “You serious?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Dean looked confused, “Like to work?”
Sam smiled, “To do whatever, man. If you just wanna hang out, have dinner and hustle pool, that’s fine. If you wanna give me a hand that works too. I’m gonna need a few breaks today, my ribs are really bothering me… I could use your help.”
“Don’t know if I should be hustling pool for a while…” Dean muttered, cynically.
“You just gotta pick your marks a bit better,” Sam smirked.
Dean grinned and eyed him, “Shut up,” he moaned.
…
Sam drove them both down to the clinic before work. Dean had to have another chest x-ray to make sure his pleural effusion had resolved. It was an in/out job. The radiologist didn’t tell him anything, just that she’d fax her report and the images of to his GP. Dean was happy enough with that. He didn’t want to have to deal with any more health issues at the moment. He just wanted to get to the bar and see Riley… and put his hands all over her…
…
Dean looked over the bar to where Sam was sitting, having a half hour break. Dean knew Sam was hurting but he also knew that this was mainly for his benefit. Sam could tell he was itchy, wanting to get out, sick of the monotony. This was his olive branch. And at the moment it was enough.
“Hey, handsome. Wanna help me bring a keg up?”
Dean raised his eyebrow and flicked his gaze to Riley, who had her hip popped, leaning against the bar. She was wearing short, tight black shorts. He followed her long olive skinned legs with his eyes, down to the floor where she had black converse shoes on. He took a breath in, then found her eyes again.
“What are you kidding?”
She smirked, “No, I…” she approached, “really need you to help bring a keg up… you know, out the back, from the storeroom…”
Dean grinned, looking down.
Riley stepped out towards the back, walking backwards, eyes not leaving his.
“Come on, stud. You don’t want me to have to… do it by myself, do you?” She winked.
Dean cleared his throat and signalled Sam.
Sam furrowed his brow and came over.
“What’s up?”
“I’m tapping you in.”
“You okay?”
“Oh, I will be.”
“Huh?”
Dean just smiled.
…
Riley had her legs wrapped around Dean’s waist, her backside parked on top of a stack of beer cartons. Dean kissed her neck, teeth skimming her jaw line as they moved against each other.
“Yeah, I’ll just get another keg!”
“Oh, shit,” Riley whispered in Dean’s ear as the door to the storeroom opened.
“Whoa! Oh my god, sorry, guys!” Jake, the young bartender, backed out of the room.
Riley pushed Dean off, “Shit,” she said again.
Dean laughed, doing up his pants and fastening his belt, “What’s the big deal?”
“I’m that kids boss, Dean,” Riley muttered, pulling her hair back in a ponytail.
“Hey, it was your idea,” Dean put his hands around the curves of her waist.
Riley smiled, going weak.
Dean turned around and coughed into the crook of his elbow. He sucked a sharp breath in.
“Hey, you okay?”
Her hand was on his back.
Dean sipped a few more controlled breaths, his chest sending tendrils of fire around his sides to his back where her hand lay. He put a hand out and leaned against the shelf, bracing himself for another cough that was clawing it’s way up. When he started, it honestly felt like he’d never stop.
“Dean?” Riley’s hands were firm, rubbing up and down either side of his spine.
He went down on one knee.
“Dean, honey, breathe…”
Dean finally managed to swallow down over the cough and get an uninterrupted breath, “That sucked,” he muttered.
Her fingers ran up through his hair, “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
Dean pushed himself back up and Riley helped, grabbing his trembling arm, “No, I’m good.”
“You sure?” She crinkled her brow and Dean reached out a finger to smooth it away.
“Stop worrying. I’m alright.”
“Okay,” she said, gaze curious, “Come back upstairs and sit down for a minute.”
“Yeah, not a bad idea.”
…
It was a bad idea. A very bad idea. For Dean to be working in a bar right now. He wanted a drink more than anything. If he could just get one drop. One sip without anyone noticing, he’d be golden. He knew he was being watched though. Between Sam and Riley tag teaming he had no chance. His chest was warm, a heat radiating from the inside. It was uncomfortable. He couldn’t get away from it. And coughing only made the damn thing worse.
He was sitting at the bar, watching the others work while he rested from his most recent coughing fit that had taken a lot out of him, when his phone rang.
“Hello,” he answered, trying to muffle another cough in his sleeve.
“Hi, Dean. It’s Dr Reid.”
“Oh, hey, what up, doc?” Dean grumbled.
“I just looked at the report from your chest x-ray this afternoon and I think you should come into the hospital.”
Dean’s heart beat a little faster, “When?”
“Well, tonight. Now, if you could.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you need to come in as soon as possible.”
Dean sighed, “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“The effusion hasn’t resolved like I’d hoped. It’s actually gotten worse, to the point where there’s severely decreased lung function.”
“Yeah, and what are you going to do to me?”
“Dean… we should discuss this at the hospital when you get here.”
“No, we can discuss it now.”
He heard Dr Reid sigh on the other end of the phone, “We need to insert a tube in between your ribs to drain off the excess fluid.”
“Forget it,” Dean snapped, feeling his hands start tingling, mind flashing back to the things they’d stuck in him in hell.
“Dean, I know it’s quite invasive but I assure you it’s completely necessary…”
Dean’s hearing turned fuzzy and he could no longer hear Dr Reid. His mind filled with white noise, crippling, debilitating white noise, and then the screams came, and he felt it. He felt the knife being driven into his side, carving through his chest like they were serving up BBQ pork ribs. He felt his lungs fill with blood and it flooded all the way up his throat until he was coughing and spewing blood out his mouth in great pools.
“Dean! Are you there?”
Dean’s chest was heaving, his vision blurring. He was panting into the phone, and he almost dropped it his hands were shaking so much.
“Dean, what’s going on?”
Dean took a few more breaths to calm himself, “I said forget it,” he managed to mutter with his dry tongue.
He hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket, shakily finding his way across the room to the men’s room.
Thankfully no one was in there when he got there, and he threw up in the sink. Sweat in his hairline. When he’d finally managed to calm his racing heart, he threw some water on his face and stumbled back out. Sam was watching him as he came back to the bar.
“You okay?” Sam asked, worry etched in his features.
“’Course,” Dean straightened up and plastered on a grin, “Never better.”
…