The First Time [26/?]
I’d been toying with this idea for a while wondering who should be the center of this story. But that was relatively easy to decide, go with what you know ‘Dean’. I plan on expanding me field with the chapter First-aid. But I won’t go into details now. I’m not worried with how long this one might get, I just want it to play out however it does. I hope you enjoy!
Alone [chapter 1]
Walking [chapter 2]
Sickness [chapter 3]
Nightmare [chapter 4]
Guns [chapter 5]
Failure [chapter 6]
School [chapter 7]
Detention [chapter 8]
Broken [chapter 9]
Books [chapter 10]
Flames [chapter 11]
Bobby [chapter 12]
Pox [chapter 13]
Bruised [chapter 14]
Stitches [chapter 15]
Bullied [chapter 16]
Concussion [chapter 17]
Park [chapter 18]
Fair [chapter 19]
Clowns [chapter 20]
Drowning [chapter 21]
Lost [chapter 22]
Hypothermia [chapter 23]
Flowers [chapter 24]
Sammy [chapter 25]
Title: The First Time
Chapter Title: Poisoned
Show: Supernatural
Rating: G
Characters: John, Dean [age 16], Sammy [age 12]
Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Some very rare fluff
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Supernatural
Summary: A look into some of the first experiences John, Dean and Sam share as a young family.
“Bloody Hell!” Dean cursed watching as the Black Dog made another lap around. The silver bullets were hardly slowing the damn thing down, and Dean was doing everything he could to protect his little brother. “Aim for its heart!” Dean shouted to where Sam stood behind him, the Browning 9mil still looking too big for his brother’s hands.
“Where’s dad and Bobby?” Sam asked a clear tremor in his voice.
“Hunting the other son of a bitch!” he barked back firing off a round of silver. It surprised him how agile the creature was jumping to the side so the bullet just grazed its side. It still cried out in pain, a satisfying sound, but they were going to run out of bullets, if they didn’t down the creature soon.
They were standing inside a salt circle; they hadn’t been able to find clear indication that it would stop a Black Dog. So far it seemed to be working; it hadn’t made an attempt towards them.
The Black Dog howled angrily, and Dean felt warnings go off sharply in his head; the bloody thing was just toying with them. Those blood red eyes glinted in the clear moonlight as it charged them head on. Dean fired for the creature’s heart, but as it leapt for him ignoring the salt completely Dean knew he’d missed.
He was thrown to the ground a scream of pain escaping him as he felt the creature’s teeth clamp down on his thigh.
“Dean!” Sam’s voice was panicked.
“Take the shot!” he cried. Dean tried to see through eyes watering with pain, but was relieved to hear the gun fire. Dean swore violently as the dog’s jaw clamped down all the harder, in its death throws.
“Dean!” Sam cried, “Dean!” his little brother rushed over.
“I’m alright,” he lied pushing himself up on his elbows, his breaths coming in short pants.
“I’ve got to get this off of you,” Sam said voice barely holding it together.
Gasping for breath Dean reached out a hand to stop his brother. He could just barely make out the muzzle of creature, but if the burning on his skin and running up his veins was any indication the bite was poisonous. Dean could tell shock was beginning to set in as he instructed his brother, “Don’t touch its teeth,” he managed to push out past the pain.
Sammy nodded, kneeling next to the Black Dog. “Are you ready?” his brother asked sounding anything but himself.
Dean let himself fall back to the ground, nodding his head as he clenched his teeth against the coming pain. But it did no good, as soon as Sam took hold of the dog, Dean’s breath left him in a deafening scream. His body instinctively rolled away from the source of the pain, but the fire continued to sear through his thigh. His throat felt raw as he finally swallowed back the pain just enough find his breath.
“C’mon Dean open your eyes,” Sammy’s voice broke through the wall of fog and Dean forced himself to respond.
“Still…here…” he panted, forcing one eye to open, Sam knelt next to him hands on his chest and shoulder.
“You’re bleeding pretty bad Dean,” Sam said his worry palatable.
Attempting to draw a few even breaths without much luck, Dean swallowed heavily. “Get our bags.” Sam looked reluctant to leave Dean’s side for even a minute but did as he was asked. “…first-aid…” he winced forced to trail off. “Help me sit up,” Dean said when he could speak again.
Sam had their first-aid kit out almost before Dean had asked for it, and quickly used the other bags to prop up against Dean’s back so he was half sitting. “Don’t touch it Sammy,” he ground out.
“What do I do?” Sam was clearly panicking, head turning sharply no doubt hoping to see their dad coming back from his half of the hunt.
Dean drew in a shallow breath trying desperately to clear his head, he was going to have to be the rational side here, and it wasn’t going to be easy. “Sammy,” he said waiting for his brother to look at him. “Cut the jeans,” he instructed gesturing with his hand.
It took a moment for his words to sink in but Sammy finally reached into the kit, being careful of Dean’s oozing blood as he cut open the ruined jeans. “Now what?”
“Holy water,” he hissed, not sure what that would do to help, but it couldn’t hurt.
How wrong he was, the first drops of the water sizzled on his skin, and Dean flinched away without thinking. But it was too late to stop, he watched as though in slow motion as Sammy tipped the bottle, and the water spilled over his leg. Dean saw the smoke rise from his leg, even as his lungs belted out another cry of pain. His entire body jerked against the fiery pain, his lungs burning for oxygen.
When finally the pain subsided, Dean’s body went limp, as he gasped for shallow breaths, eyes pinned shut. “Dean,” Sam’s voice was desperate, and he managed to get one eye opened to see his little brother pressing a thick bandaged down on his thigh.
“Yeah…” he barely managed.
“Should it hurt that much?” his brother asked in a shaky voice.
“I don’t know…” Dean half laughed through the pain. But sobered quickly when he suddenly realized that the pain was lessening, instinctively he knew that couldn’t be a good sign. “Tie a tourniquet around it Sammy,” he said through shallow breaths, there wasn’t really much more that they could do until dad and Bobby got back.
Sam did as he was told, tying the bandaged tightly just as dad had shown them, Dean bit down on the groan. “Sorry,” his brother apologized, “How’s the pain?”
“Not as bad,” he admitted more than willing to let Sammy assume the best from that comment. But the illusion he was trying to create was destroyed when an overwhelming wave of nausea swept over him. Dean just barely managed to roll to his side before the heaving started.
He could feel Sammy’s hands on his back while he continued to retch nothing left in his stomach but bile. When he could finally lay back again gasping for breath-the throbbing pain intensifying in his entire leg now-Sammy was there holding a canteen of water to his lips. Dean took a few greedy mouthfuls before his brother pulled it away.
Dean reached up with a shaking hand to swipe it down his face, not surprised by how much sweat was coating his skin. Sam shifted on his knees closer to Dean’s head, placing his left hand on his brother’s forehead. “You’re getting warm,” he stated before Dean could pull away. “What did that thing do to you?” Sammy asked worriedly.
He offered his brother what he hoped was a cocky smirk, trying to ease his brother’s fears, but he knew it had fallen flat. “I’ll be alright…” Dean tired to assure, though he doubted it would do much good.
Dean wasn’t going to panic his brother further but the cold was settling in to his extremities, whether from the bite, shock, or weather he couldn’t tell. But none of those choices were good. Sammy quickly pulled off his coat and laid it across Dean’s chest. “You should keep it on…” he tried weakly to push it back.
“I’ll be fine, I’ve got to keep you warm until dad and Bobby get back,” Sam replied in his sternest tone, and Dean had to bite down on a laugh at how close to dad Sammy sounded just there.
“I thought you said I was warm,” Dean muttered trying to scan the tree line listening for any sign of their dad.
“I’m not laughing Dean,” he sounded like he had more control but there was still worry deep in his voice; and his hand hadn’t left Dean’s chest.
Dean leaned his head back focusing on his breathing, fighting through the pain now making it way up his body. “Try the…radio,” he suggested, no liking how weak his voice was sounding.
“All we’re getting is static,” Sam countered his concern coming more to the head.
“That’s while…the…son of a bitch…was alive,” Dean tired not to wince through the pain.
Finally Sammy’s hand left Dean’s chest as he moved to find their small radio. Dean let his eyes fall closed, exhaustion washing over him, in the back of his mind he knew he had to fight it. But it was like going to battle against the ocean, you couldn’t win. He vaguely heard Sammy’s calls for their dad and Bobby to get back here.
“Dean!” his name was barked sharply, and the young hunter snapped out of the darkness he hadn’t even realized he’d slipped into.
It was an upwards fight to get his eyes to respond to him, and he heard another voice speak to him. “C’mon kiddo,” the voice was rough to his ears but he immediately knew it was Bobby.
Blinking away the water from his eyes Dean looked up to see his dad on his right and Bobby on his left. “Sammy?” he asked though his voice was barely above a whisper, a small hand on his head gave him his answer. “How long?”
“Maybe ten minutes,” John replied, placing two fingers against the side of Dean’s neck.
“Salt…didn’t…” he tried to say but Bobby over road him.
“We know,” Bobby rested a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Who took the killing shot?” the older hunter asked, and Dean knew he was trying to distract him while John moved to take a look at the wound.
“Sammy,” he coughed weakly.
His little brother appeared with that same canteen and brought it to his lips, again Dean wanted to gulp the water down, but it was Bobby this time who pulled it away. “Small sips,” he warned.
“You poured holy water over the wound?” John asked, and Dean could see he had the bandage all but pulled off. It worried him more than a little that he hadn’t felt a thing.
“Yes Sir,” Sam responded looking unsure.
Dad nodded his head curtly. “Good boy, Bobby do you have the right supplies at your place?” he asked turning his attention to the mechanic.
“I should,” Bobby nodded.
“Alright lets move,” the tone was an order, Dean had heard it more times than one, the commanding officer down to his soldier. And it nearly made Dean want to snap to attention, if he could feel his legs.
As his dad retook his place at Dean’s side, he looked up at his dad. “Doesn’t hurt…anymore,” he confessed.
“You’re in shock Ace,” John replied his tone as confident as Dean had ever heard it, as he was scooped up into his dad’s arms.
Sammy jogged along beside his dad carrying both his and Dean’s duffels without complaint unable to take his eyes of Dean’s ashen face. The only color he could actually see was the flushing from the fever. Sam had been terrified when Dean had passed out, he’d done everything he could to wake his brother, but it had taken their dad’s commanding voice to rouse Dean.
Both dad and Bobby had tried to reassure him that Dean would be fine, but until he saw it with his own eyes there was no stopping Sammy’s worry. It didn’t help now that Dean’s head rocking limply against their dad’s neck. From where he stood it didn’t look like there was an ounce of life in him.
He felt tears spring into his eyes but desperately tried to hold them back. When they reached the Impala John ordered Sam into the back seat, and then carefully placed Dean beside him so his brother’s head was cradled in his lap. Sammy leaned over his brother’s face, his eyes looked sunken dark shadows had formed but in the darkness of the woods he hadn’t noticed.
Dad returned with a thermal blanket, and made quick work of wrapping it tightly around Dean. “Try and keep him still,” John said holding eye contact with Sammy for a couple of second. All he could do was nod in response.
Moment’s later the Impala roared to life, and they left the state park grounds. Sammy rested a shaking hand on his brother’s forehead, amazed at the heat that was radiating from him. “Dean?” he asked softly into his brother’s ear, although he got no answer in response Sammy was relieved to feel the short warm breaths brush against his neck.
Sammy reached one of his warm hands under the blanket digging his way under his own coat and Dean’s until his hand was resting over his brother’s heart. The steady beat against his hand, was somewhat reassuring to Sam in the darkness.
“How’s he doing?” dad asked glancing back in the rear view mirror.
“He’s getting hotter,” Sam relayed wishing his voice was stronger.
“That’s normal,” John assured, leaving Sam wondering how his dad could sound so calm. Though he’d been anything but when trying to wake Dean. “His body’s trying to fight off the poison.”
“Can he do it?” he couldn’t help but ask but realized he hadn’t spoken loud enough when John didn’t answer. He wasn’t even sure he’d have wanted to hear the answer, especially not if it had been bad news.
“I’m sorry Dean,” Sammy breathed his head bowed over Dean’s. “I should have done more research, I should have known the bite was poisonous.” He paused drawing a shaking breath, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “Not that it would have helped,” he forced himself to admit, “the salt circle was a failure.”
It felt good to speak to Dean, he had no idea if his brother could even hear him, but he kept it up. “But I could have found something that would have worked! I should have!” he couldn’t stop the tears from falling on Dean face. “Is this how it’s always going to be? One of us walking away hurt?”
He knew it didn’t happen all the time, but it felt like it did. “This doesn’t feel right Dean; do you know what kids our age are doing?” Sammy already knew the answer to that, Dean wouldn’t question their dad’s order this was their life.
“C’mon Sammy,” John’s voice broke Sam’s thoughts, and he looked up in surprise not even realizing they’d stopped or that his dad had got out of the Impala.
With dad’s help Sammy slid out of the car, with Dean’s head still resting on his laps, until John could slip his arm under Dean’s neck. Sam shut the door behind him and raced ahead of his dad to hold open the door, Bobby’s truck was already parked outside of the house.
Once inside he made his way to the room he and his brother shared whenever they stopped by, and pulled down the heavy blank, just as John came in the room Dean’s body limp as he was laid out on the bed.
“Bobby?!” dad shouted out the door as he unbuckled Dean’s jeans.
“I’m working on it!” was the gruff reply.
Sammy moved around to the other side of the double bed and climbed up beside his brother. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Go fill a bowl with cold water and get a washcloth,” John instructed, having removed Dean’s pants he moved onto his son’s coat and shirt.
Sam leapt off the bed and ran from the room, relieved to be of help even if it was only a little. Entering the kitchen he saw Bobby, working quickly over the stove, adding herbs to boiling water, the smell made him wrinkle his nose in distaste.
“Bobby!” his dad shouted again.
“It’s not like this comes in pill form,” Bobby muttered sarcastically, as Sam grabbed a bowl and made his way to the bathroom.
When he returned to the small bedroom Dean was rather awkwardly covered with the blankets but with his right thigh exposed. The flesh around the punctures looked angry and red, and he could see puss leaking from some of them.
John’s glanced at him, his two fingers once more pressed into Dean’s neck. “Wash his face and neck with it,” he instructed, taking the bowl away from Sammy so he could get back on the bed. “Then leave it on his forehead.”
Sam did as he was told, brushing the cold cloth down Dean’s hot skin, and he could have sworn his brother turned towards him ever so slightly. Dean looked even worse now that his skin was bathed in light. Sam tried to bite down on his anxiety not wanting to get in the way of his dad’s work with too many questions.
Bobby came into the room with a steaming bowl in one hand and a clean white cloth in the other. Sam watched in silence as his dad took the cloth and lifted Dean’s leg to slip part of it under. “What is that?” Sammy asked before he even realized the words had left his mouth, the smell was stronger now than it had been in the kitchen.
“It’s a poultice,” Bobby explained holding the bowl for his friend as John took a handful of the steaming mush and began spreading it directly on Dean’s leg. “It’ll draw out the poison.”
It was doing something, Sam noticed as Dean let out a weak groan of pain. He turned his full attention back to his brother, taking the washcloth off his head and dunking it back in the cold water before replacing it. When he glanced back down dad had wrapped Dean’s thigh with the rest of the cloth, and was pulling the blankets over his son’s thigh.
“That’s all we can do for now,” Bobby commented, looking down at Dean.
“What?” Sammy gasped, “that’s it? Should we take him to the hospital?” the question was out of his mouth before he could think better of it.
John was already shaking his head. “There’s nothing more they could do for him Sam, except ask question we can’t answer.”
Bobby adjusted his ball cap. “Speaking of, I’d best go back and burn the corpses.”
His dad just nodded pulling a chair up beside the bed. He took his seat, and immediately rested arms on knees letting his chin drop to his fists, hazel eyes staring intently at Dean’s face. They sat in utter silence for a while, Sammy removing the cloth like clock work to re-wet it. While John reached out with his left hand to check Dean’s pulse; for his part Dean didn’t make a sound just lay there looking worse than the last minute Sammy was sure.
“What if this doesn’t work?” he asked voice hitching with the lump that was forming in his throat.
“He won’t give up without a fight,” was all his dad said.
-----SPN-----
Dean felt himself rousing from the cold darkness, feeling slowly returning to his body, and he was immediately made aware of the throbbing in his right thigh. His exhausted mind was too muddled to remember what had happened. All he knew right now was that he was warm and safe; the second part was assured by the familiar presence resting by his left side.
Dean tried to open his eyes, but a groan escaped him instead. On his second try he managed to crack his lids enough to let watery light filter in. He thought he recognized his surroundings despite the blurriness; it was Bobby’s house. That small connection sent his mind reeling as the memories of their hunt resurfaced; leaving him well aware of the pain and why he felt so weak.
The longer he remained awake the more he could open his eyes and actually see the room. It took some effort to turn his head to the side, so he could see his little brother curled up beside him; long brown hair falling across his eyes casting shadows on his face.
“Sammy?” he said his brother’s name, though it came out as more of a rasp but it was enough.
Sammy’s eyes fluttered open and in less than a second he was sitting up one hand immediately going to rest on Dean’s chest. “You’re awake!” he exclaimed happily but thankfully managed to keep his voice down.
“Brilliant…grasp of…the obvious,” he forced himself to say, though the dryness of his throat ended it in a cough.
Sam reached across him; hand going out of Dean’s sight but when it returned he was holding a cup of water complete with bendy straw. The first drops of the cold liquid felt like heaven to his throat and he quickly sucked in more; only to be disappointed when Sammy pulled the cup away.
“Sips,” his brother stressed.
“Kill joy,” Dean muttered voice stronger now.
“How’re you feeling?” Sammy asked bringing the straw back to Dean’s mouth for a couple of seconds.
He considered the question for a minute; his entire body felt like lead and he didn’t want to think how much effort it would take to lift one of his arms. Then there was his leg, just throbbing now but he didn’t dare move it. “Perfect!” he replied.
“You look like hell,” Sammy was quick to point out.
“I choose to take that as a compliment,” he returned but his voice was lacking its usual sarcasm.
Sam’s head dropped, hair shielding his eyes from view. Dean knew that look; it was slowly becoming a staple of Sammy’s existence. “I thought I was going to loose you,” he said voice very small.
“But you didn’t,” Dean said pointedly.
Again there was silence; and his brother looked up expression like he was working himself up to something. “Is this how it’s always going to be?”
“I hope not,” Dean replied flippantly, “that bite hurt like a bitch.”
“I’m being serious!” was Sam’s retort.
Dean was forced to sigh. “You’re my brother, I’m always going to step in front of you,” he forced himself to say, not liking how mushy it sounded coming from his lips.
“That’s not really what I meant…” Sammy trailed off, looking away.
“You’re talking about the hunting,” Dean concluded. It wasn’t the first time Sam had brought the subject up. Unlike Dean he’d lost the awe and rush from the hunts almost immediately. He could learn what their dad taught them just as well as Dean but he wasn’t so eager to use it. Dean had caught Sammy staring wistfully at kids just playing in the park. Having never lived that life Dean hadn’t expected Sammy to want it; how could you miss what you never knew?
“Why do we do it?” his brother asked not making eye contact; it was because he already knew Dean’s answer.
“Because it’s what dad asks us to do,” it was just that simple for Dean, ‘Protect your brother!’ and ‘Don’t argue with me.’ Two simple rules Dean had no trouble following.
Sam licked his lips finally looking back at his brother. “Don’t you ever want too…”
“About time you woke up,” their dad’s voice broke in, causing Sammy to immediately halt whatever he was going to ask.
John came to the side of the bed, dropping his hand down on Dean’s forehead. “How’re you feeling Ace?”
“Like I was poisoned,” he answered honestly, knowing it was what his dad wanted to hear.
“You’re on bed rest for the next couple of days,” John said pulling up the blankets so he could expose Dean’s thigh. He could just make out the white bandaged wrapping it, and thought he saw a few spots of red, where his blood had seeped through.
“What about the Vamps in Nebraska?” Dean asked immediately moving to try and push himself up on the bed.
John’s hand pushed him back down with ease. “Bobby’s called in a favor,” he said bluntly, returning his attention to Dean’s leg.
As he’d expected the minute his dad moved the limb the pain intensified, he bit down on his lip to keep from making a noise and turned his attention back to Sammy. But his little brother wasn’t looking at him; he was staring down at his hands and it felt like he had shut down somehow.
It took all the focus he had to reach out his left hand towards his brother but the second his fingers brushed against Sammy’s knee the twelve year-old looked up. Dean offered him a smile; he didn’t know what to do about Sam’s opinions on hunting other than to try and reason with his brother. But Sammy was far from easy to reason with, he thought he had all the facts straight in his head and most of the time he did. A virtual sponge Dean had called him on more than one occasion.
Sammy took his hand, and Dean held his brother’s gaze until he saw Sam’s expression lighten a little. It wasn’t perfect but it was enough.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter...which ended up being so long it could have been its own stand alone...I think I just murdered the drabble, oh well. Next up is Circus thanks for reading!
Circus [chapter 27]
Alone [chapter 1]
Walking [chapter 2]
Sickness [chapter 3]
Nightmare [chapter 4]
Guns [chapter 5]
Failure [chapter 6]
School [chapter 7]
Detention [chapter 8]
Broken [chapter 9]
Books [chapter 10]
Flames [chapter 11]
Bobby [chapter 12]
Pox [chapter 13]
Bruised [chapter 14]
Stitches [chapter 15]
Bullied [chapter 16]
Concussion [chapter 17]
Park [chapter 18]
Fair [chapter 19]
Clowns [chapter 20]
Drowning [chapter 21]
Lost [chapter 22]
Hypothermia [chapter 23]
Flowers [chapter 24]
Sammy [chapter 25]
Title: The First Time
Chapter Title: Poisoned
Show: Supernatural
Rating: G
Characters: John, Dean [age 16], Sammy [age 12]
Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Some very rare fluff
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Supernatural
Summary: A look into some of the first experiences John, Dean and Sam share as a young family.
“Bloody Hell!” Dean cursed watching as the Black Dog made another lap around. The silver bullets were hardly slowing the damn thing down, and Dean was doing everything he could to protect his little brother. “Aim for its heart!” Dean shouted to where Sam stood behind him, the Browning 9mil still looking too big for his brother’s hands.
“Where’s dad and Bobby?” Sam asked a clear tremor in his voice.
“Hunting the other son of a bitch!” he barked back firing off a round of silver. It surprised him how agile the creature was jumping to the side so the bullet just grazed its side. It still cried out in pain, a satisfying sound, but they were going to run out of bullets, if they didn’t down the creature soon.
They were standing inside a salt circle; they hadn’t been able to find clear indication that it would stop a Black Dog. So far it seemed to be working; it hadn’t made an attempt towards them.
The Black Dog howled angrily, and Dean felt warnings go off sharply in his head; the bloody thing was just toying with them. Those blood red eyes glinted in the clear moonlight as it charged them head on. Dean fired for the creature’s heart, but as it leapt for him ignoring the salt completely Dean knew he’d missed.
He was thrown to the ground a scream of pain escaping him as he felt the creature’s teeth clamp down on his thigh.
“Dean!” Sam’s voice was panicked.
“Take the shot!” he cried. Dean tried to see through eyes watering with pain, but was relieved to hear the gun fire. Dean swore violently as the dog’s jaw clamped down all the harder, in its death throws.
“Dean!” Sam cried, “Dean!” his little brother rushed over.
“I’m alright,” he lied pushing himself up on his elbows, his breaths coming in short pants.
“I’ve got to get this off of you,” Sam said voice barely holding it together.
Gasping for breath Dean reached out a hand to stop his brother. He could just barely make out the muzzle of creature, but if the burning on his skin and running up his veins was any indication the bite was poisonous. Dean could tell shock was beginning to set in as he instructed his brother, “Don’t touch its teeth,” he managed to push out past the pain.
Sammy nodded, kneeling next to the Black Dog. “Are you ready?” his brother asked sounding anything but himself.
Dean let himself fall back to the ground, nodding his head as he clenched his teeth against the coming pain. But it did no good, as soon as Sam took hold of the dog, Dean’s breath left him in a deafening scream. His body instinctively rolled away from the source of the pain, but the fire continued to sear through his thigh. His throat felt raw as he finally swallowed back the pain just enough find his breath.
“C’mon Dean open your eyes,” Sammy’s voice broke through the wall of fog and Dean forced himself to respond.
“Still…here…” he panted, forcing one eye to open, Sam knelt next to him hands on his chest and shoulder.
“You’re bleeding pretty bad Dean,” Sam said his worry palatable.
Attempting to draw a few even breaths without much luck, Dean swallowed heavily. “Get our bags.” Sam looked reluctant to leave Dean’s side for even a minute but did as he was asked. “…first-aid…” he winced forced to trail off. “Help me sit up,” Dean said when he could speak again.
Sam had their first-aid kit out almost before Dean had asked for it, and quickly used the other bags to prop up against Dean’s back so he was half sitting. “Don’t touch it Sammy,” he ground out.
“What do I do?” Sam was clearly panicking, head turning sharply no doubt hoping to see their dad coming back from his half of the hunt.
Dean drew in a shallow breath trying desperately to clear his head, he was going to have to be the rational side here, and it wasn’t going to be easy. “Sammy,” he said waiting for his brother to look at him. “Cut the jeans,” he instructed gesturing with his hand.
It took a moment for his words to sink in but Sammy finally reached into the kit, being careful of Dean’s oozing blood as he cut open the ruined jeans. “Now what?”
“Holy water,” he hissed, not sure what that would do to help, but it couldn’t hurt.
How wrong he was, the first drops of the water sizzled on his skin, and Dean flinched away without thinking. But it was too late to stop, he watched as though in slow motion as Sammy tipped the bottle, and the water spilled over his leg. Dean saw the smoke rise from his leg, even as his lungs belted out another cry of pain. His entire body jerked against the fiery pain, his lungs burning for oxygen.
When finally the pain subsided, Dean’s body went limp, as he gasped for shallow breaths, eyes pinned shut. “Dean,” Sam’s voice was desperate, and he managed to get one eye opened to see his little brother pressing a thick bandaged down on his thigh.
“Yeah…” he barely managed.
“Should it hurt that much?” his brother asked in a shaky voice.
“I don’t know…” Dean half laughed through the pain. But sobered quickly when he suddenly realized that the pain was lessening, instinctively he knew that couldn’t be a good sign. “Tie a tourniquet around it Sammy,” he said through shallow breaths, there wasn’t really much more that they could do until dad and Bobby got back.
Sam did as he was told, tying the bandaged tightly just as dad had shown them, Dean bit down on the groan. “Sorry,” his brother apologized, “How’s the pain?”
“Not as bad,” he admitted more than willing to let Sammy assume the best from that comment. But the illusion he was trying to create was destroyed when an overwhelming wave of nausea swept over him. Dean just barely managed to roll to his side before the heaving started.
He could feel Sammy’s hands on his back while he continued to retch nothing left in his stomach but bile. When he could finally lay back again gasping for breath-the throbbing pain intensifying in his entire leg now-Sammy was there holding a canteen of water to his lips. Dean took a few greedy mouthfuls before his brother pulled it away.
Dean reached up with a shaking hand to swipe it down his face, not surprised by how much sweat was coating his skin. Sam shifted on his knees closer to Dean’s head, placing his left hand on his brother’s forehead. “You’re getting warm,” he stated before Dean could pull away. “What did that thing do to you?” Sammy asked worriedly.
He offered his brother what he hoped was a cocky smirk, trying to ease his brother’s fears, but he knew it had fallen flat. “I’ll be alright…” Dean tired to assure, though he doubted it would do much good.
Dean wasn’t going to panic his brother further but the cold was settling in to his extremities, whether from the bite, shock, or weather he couldn’t tell. But none of those choices were good. Sammy quickly pulled off his coat and laid it across Dean’s chest. “You should keep it on…” he tried weakly to push it back.
“I’ll be fine, I’ve got to keep you warm until dad and Bobby get back,” Sam replied in his sternest tone, and Dean had to bite down on a laugh at how close to dad Sammy sounded just there.
“I thought you said I was warm,” Dean muttered trying to scan the tree line listening for any sign of their dad.
“I’m not laughing Dean,” he sounded like he had more control but there was still worry deep in his voice; and his hand hadn’t left Dean’s chest.
Dean leaned his head back focusing on his breathing, fighting through the pain now making it way up his body. “Try the…radio,” he suggested, no liking how weak his voice was sounding.
“All we’re getting is static,” Sam countered his concern coming more to the head.
“That’s while…the…son of a bitch…was alive,” Dean tired not to wince through the pain.
Finally Sammy’s hand left Dean’s chest as he moved to find their small radio. Dean let his eyes fall closed, exhaustion washing over him, in the back of his mind he knew he had to fight it. But it was like going to battle against the ocean, you couldn’t win. He vaguely heard Sammy’s calls for their dad and Bobby to get back here.
“Dean!” his name was barked sharply, and the young hunter snapped out of the darkness he hadn’t even realized he’d slipped into.
It was an upwards fight to get his eyes to respond to him, and he heard another voice speak to him. “C’mon kiddo,” the voice was rough to his ears but he immediately knew it was Bobby.
Blinking away the water from his eyes Dean looked up to see his dad on his right and Bobby on his left. “Sammy?” he asked though his voice was barely above a whisper, a small hand on his head gave him his answer. “How long?”
“Maybe ten minutes,” John replied, placing two fingers against the side of Dean’s neck.
“Salt…didn’t…” he tried to say but Bobby over road him.
“We know,” Bobby rested a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Who took the killing shot?” the older hunter asked, and Dean knew he was trying to distract him while John moved to take a look at the wound.
“Sammy,” he coughed weakly.
His little brother appeared with that same canteen and brought it to his lips, again Dean wanted to gulp the water down, but it was Bobby this time who pulled it away. “Small sips,” he warned.
“You poured holy water over the wound?” John asked, and Dean could see he had the bandage all but pulled off. It worried him more than a little that he hadn’t felt a thing.
“Yes Sir,” Sam responded looking unsure.
Dad nodded his head curtly. “Good boy, Bobby do you have the right supplies at your place?” he asked turning his attention to the mechanic.
“I should,” Bobby nodded.
“Alright lets move,” the tone was an order, Dean had heard it more times than one, the commanding officer down to his soldier. And it nearly made Dean want to snap to attention, if he could feel his legs.
As his dad retook his place at Dean’s side, he looked up at his dad. “Doesn’t hurt…anymore,” he confessed.
“You’re in shock Ace,” John replied his tone as confident as Dean had ever heard it, as he was scooped up into his dad’s arms.
Sammy jogged along beside his dad carrying both his and Dean’s duffels without complaint unable to take his eyes of Dean’s ashen face. The only color he could actually see was the flushing from the fever. Sam had been terrified when Dean had passed out, he’d done everything he could to wake his brother, but it had taken their dad’s commanding voice to rouse Dean.
Both dad and Bobby had tried to reassure him that Dean would be fine, but until he saw it with his own eyes there was no stopping Sammy’s worry. It didn’t help now that Dean’s head rocking limply against their dad’s neck. From where he stood it didn’t look like there was an ounce of life in him.
He felt tears spring into his eyes but desperately tried to hold them back. When they reached the Impala John ordered Sam into the back seat, and then carefully placed Dean beside him so his brother’s head was cradled in his lap. Sammy leaned over his brother’s face, his eyes looked sunken dark shadows had formed but in the darkness of the woods he hadn’t noticed.
Dad returned with a thermal blanket, and made quick work of wrapping it tightly around Dean. “Try and keep him still,” John said holding eye contact with Sammy for a couple of second. All he could do was nod in response.
Moment’s later the Impala roared to life, and they left the state park grounds. Sammy rested a shaking hand on his brother’s forehead, amazed at the heat that was radiating from him. “Dean?” he asked softly into his brother’s ear, although he got no answer in response Sammy was relieved to feel the short warm breaths brush against his neck.
Sammy reached one of his warm hands under the blanket digging his way under his own coat and Dean’s until his hand was resting over his brother’s heart. The steady beat against his hand, was somewhat reassuring to Sam in the darkness.
“How’s he doing?” dad asked glancing back in the rear view mirror.
“He’s getting hotter,” Sam relayed wishing his voice was stronger.
“That’s normal,” John assured, leaving Sam wondering how his dad could sound so calm. Though he’d been anything but when trying to wake Dean. “His body’s trying to fight off the poison.”
“Can he do it?” he couldn’t help but ask but realized he hadn’t spoken loud enough when John didn’t answer. He wasn’t even sure he’d have wanted to hear the answer, especially not if it had been bad news.
“I’m sorry Dean,” Sammy breathed his head bowed over Dean’s. “I should have done more research, I should have known the bite was poisonous.” He paused drawing a shaking breath, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “Not that it would have helped,” he forced himself to admit, “the salt circle was a failure.”
It felt good to speak to Dean, he had no idea if his brother could even hear him, but he kept it up. “But I could have found something that would have worked! I should have!” he couldn’t stop the tears from falling on Dean face. “Is this how it’s always going to be? One of us walking away hurt?”
He knew it didn’t happen all the time, but it felt like it did. “This doesn’t feel right Dean; do you know what kids our age are doing?” Sammy already knew the answer to that, Dean wouldn’t question their dad’s order this was their life.
“C’mon Sammy,” John’s voice broke Sam’s thoughts, and he looked up in surprise not even realizing they’d stopped or that his dad had got out of the Impala.
With dad’s help Sammy slid out of the car, with Dean’s head still resting on his laps, until John could slip his arm under Dean’s neck. Sam shut the door behind him and raced ahead of his dad to hold open the door, Bobby’s truck was already parked outside of the house.
Once inside he made his way to the room he and his brother shared whenever they stopped by, and pulled down the heavy blank, just as John came in the room Dean’s body limp as he was laid out on the bed.
“Bobby?!” dad shouted out the door as he unbuckled Dean’s jeans.
“I’m working on it!” was the gruff reply.
Sammy moved around to the other side of the double bed and climbed up beside his brother. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Go fill a bowl with cold water and get a washcloth,” John instructed, having removed Dean’s pants he moved onto his son’s coat and shirt.
Sam leapt off the bed and ran from the room, relieved to be of help even if it was only a little. Entering the kitchen he saw Bobby, working quickly over the stove, adding herbs to boiling water, the smell made him wrinkle his nose in distaste.
“Bobby!” his dad shouted again.
“It’s not like this comes in pill form,” Bobby muttered sarcastically, as Sam grabbed a bowl and made his way to the bathroom.
When he returned to the small bedroom Dean was rather awkwardly covered with the blankets but with his right thigh exposed. The flesh around the punctures looked angry and red, and he could see puss leaking from some of them.
John’s glanced at him, his two fingers once more pressed into Dean’s neck. “Wash his face and neck with it,” he instructed, taking the bowl away from Sammy so he could get back on the bed. “Then leave it on his forehead.”
Sam did as he was told, brushing the cold cloth down Dean’s hot skin, and he could have sworn his brother turned towards him ever so slightly. Dean looked even worse now that his skin was bathed in light. Sam tried to bite down on his anxiety not wanting to get in the way of his dad’s work with too many questions.
Bobby came into the room with a steaming bowl in one hand and a clean white cloth in the other. Sam watched in silence as his dad took the cloth and lifted Dean’s leg to slip part of it under. “What is that?” Sammy asked before he even realized the words had left his mouth, the smell was stronger now than it had been in the kitchen.
“It’s a poultice,” Bobby explained holding the bowl for his friend as John took a handful of the steaming mush and began spreading it directly on Dean’s leg. “It’ll draw out the poison.”
It was doing something, Sam noticed as Dean let out a weak groan of pain. He turned his full attention back to his brother, taking the washcloth off his head and dunking it back in the cold water before replacing it. When he glanced back down dad had wrapped Dean’s thigh with the rest of the cloth, and was pulling the blankets over his son’s thigh.
“That’s all we can do for now,” Bobby commented, looking down at Dean.
“What?” Sammy gasped, “that’s it? Should we take him to the hospital?” the question was out of his mouth before he could think better of it.
John was already shaking his head. “There’s nothing more they could do for him Sam, except ask question we can’t answer.”
Bobby adjusted his ball cap. “Speaking of, I’d best go back and burn the corpses.”
His dad just nodded pulling a chair up beside the bed. He took his seat, and immediately rested arms on knees letting his chin drop to his fists, hazel eyes staring intently at Dean’s face. They sat in utter silence for a while, Sammy removing the cloth like clock work to re-wet it. While John reached out with his left hand to check Dean’s pulse; for his part Dean didn’t make a sound just lay there looking worse than the last minute Sammy was sure.
“What if this doesn’t work?” he asked voice hitching with the lump that was forming in his throat.
“He won’t give up without a fight,” was all his dad said.
-----SPN-----
Dean felt himself rousing from the cold darkness, feeling slowly returning to his body, and he was immediately made aware of the throbbing in his right thigh. His exhausted mind was too muddled to remember what had happened. All he knew right now was that he was warm and safe; the second part was assured by the familiar presence resting by his left side.
Dean tried to open his eyes, but a groan escaped him instead. On his second try he managed to crack his lids enough to let watery light filter in. He thought he recognized his surroundings despite the blurriness; it was Bobby’s house. That small connection sent his mind reeling as the memories of their hunt resurfaced; leaving him well aware of the pain and why he felt so weak.
The longer he remained awake the more he could open his eyes and actually see the room. It took some effort to turn his head to the side, so he could see his little brother curled up beside him; long brown hair falling across his eyes casting shadows on his face.
“Sammy?” he said his brother’s name, though it came out as more of a rasp but it was enough.
Sammy’s eyes fluttered open and in less than a second he was sitting up one hand immediately going to rest on Dean’s chest. “You’re awake!” he exclaimed happily but thankfully managed to keep his voice down.
“Brilliant…grasp of…the obvious,” he forced himself to say, though the dryness of his throat ended it in a cough.
Sam reached across him; hand going out of Dean’s sight but when it returned he was holding a cup of water complete with bendy straw. The first drops of the cold liquid felt like heaven to his throat and he quickly sucked in more; only to be disappointed when Sammy pulled the cup away.
“Sips,” his brother stressed.
“Kill joy,” Dean muttered voice stronger now.
“How’re you feeling?” Sammy asked bringing the straw back to Dean’s mouth for a couple of seconds.
He considered the question for a minute; his entire body felt like lead and he didn’t want to think how much effort it would take to lift one of his arms. Then there was his leg, just throbbing now but he didn’t dare move it. “Perfect!” he replied.
“You look like hell,” Sammy was quick to point out.
“I choose to take that as a compliment,” he returned but his voice was lacking its usual sarcasm.
Sam’s head dropped, hair shielding his eyes from view. Dean knew that look; it was slowly becoming a staple of Sammy’s existence. “I thought I was going to loose you,” he said voice very small.
“But you didn’t,” Dean said pointedly.
Again there was silence; and his brother looked up expression like he was working himself up to something. “Is this how it’s always going to be?”
“I hope not,” Dean replied flippantly, “that bite hurt like a bitch.”
“I’m being serious!” was Sam’s retort.
Dean was forced to sigh. “You’re my brother, I’m always going to step in front of you,” he forced himself to say, not liking how mushy it sounded coming from his lips.
“That’s not really what I meant…” Sammy trailed off, looking away.
“You’re talking about the hunting,” Dean concluded. It wasn’t the first time Sam had brought the subject up. Unlike Dean he’d lost the awe and rush from the hunts almost immediately. He could learn what their dad taught them just as well as Dean but he wasn’t so eager to use it. Dean had caught Sammy staring wistfully at kids just playing in the park. Having never lived that life Dean hadn’t expected Sammy to want it; how could you miss what you never knew?
“Why do we do it?” his brother asked not making eye contact; it was because he already knew Dean’s answer.
“Because it’s what dad asks us to do,” it was just that simple for Dean, ‘Protect your brother!’ and ‘Don’t argue with me.’ Two simple rules Dean had no trouble following.
Sam licked his lips finally looking back at his brother. “Don’t you ever want too…”
“About time you woke up,” their dad’s voice broke in, causing Sammy to immediately halt whatever he was going to ask.
John came to the side of the bed, dropping his hand down on Dean’s forehead. “How’re you feeling Ace?”
“Like I was poisoned,” he answered honestly, knowing it was what his dad wanted to hear.
“You’re on bed rest for the next couple of days,” John said pulling up the blankets so he could expose Dean’s thigh. He could just make out the white bandaged wrapping it, and thought he saw a few spots of red, where his blood had seeped through.
“What about the Vamps in Nebraska?” Dean asked immediately moving to try and push himself up on the bed.
John’s hand pushed him back down with ease. “Bobby’s called in a favor,” he said bluntly, returning his attention to Dean’s leg.
As he’d expected the minute his dad moved the limb the pain intensified, he bit down on his lip to keep from making a noise and turned his attention back to Sammy. But his little brother wasn’t looking at him; he was staring down at his hands and it felt like he had shut down somehow.
It took all the focus he had to reach out his left hand towards his brother but the second his fingers brushed against Sammy’s knee the twelve year-old looked up. Dean offered him a smile; he didn’t know what to do about Sam’s opinions on hunting other than to try and reason with his brother. But Sammy was far from easy to reason with, he thought he had all the facts straight in his head and most of the time he did. A virtual sponge Dean had called him on more than one occasion.
Sammy took his hand, and Dean held his brother’s gaze until he saw Sam’s expression lighten a little. It wasn’t perfect but it was enough.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter...which ended up being so long it could have been its own stand alone...I think I just murdered the drabble, oh well. Next up is Circus thanks for reading!
Circus [chapter 27]