Hi there! Okay, so this has been torturing me as a story line for a while now and i've had this first chapter partially written for weeks. I finally decided to finish it and see what people thought and if i should continue it. There will be lots of angst and hurt/comfort/family going on here. Sam is 3/4 and Dean is 7/8. AU mostly because of childhood events.
No beta so all mistakes are my own :)
Sammy is three and a half when Dean first realises something is wrong. He bruises too easily, he's cold all the time. The kid has been having nosebleeds all month and whenever Dean asks him what's hurting he complains of 'poowly fwoat' and 'owchy bones'. And as cute as it is when Sammy talks in his adorable toddler voice, Dean would Much rather it not be those words he hears most often.
At almost eight years old, Dean knows that he doesn't really know a lot, but he does know Sammy. He knows when Sammy is happy, sad, hungry, hurting or poorly. Has known everything about his baby brother since dad put him in Dean's arms at six months old and his Sammy intuition has only grown better with time. So he knows without a doubt, that something is very wrong with his little brother. He decided to mention it to his dad, waiting until he got back from the last hunt before asking him about it.
"Dad, Sammy is sick. I think he needs a doctor."
"What do you mean, sick?" John replies, hardly lifting his eyes from his journal to glance at Dean stood by his chair. Dean sighs, glancing back at Sam who is curled up in bed watching cartoons and looking too skinny and pale.
"He's always cold and said his throat hurts and his bones are achy. And he keeps having nosebleeds, and getting bruises when there shouldn't be bruises. I dunno what's wrong with him." Their dad sighs, but still doesn't list his attention too far from his notes.
"He's probably just got a cold, Dean. And kids his age bruise and bleed easy, just keep a closer eye on him." Dean bristles at the implication that he doesn't keep a close enough eye on him already. No matter what, Sam is always in his field of vision, the kid is never more than 20 feet away from him at any time. Usually closer. He huffs and looks back at Sammy. He knows there is something wrong with his baby brother. He just knows it. Obviously though, dad wasn't concerned as usual so Dean would just have to make sure Sammy got better by himself.
It's another month before Dean brings it up to his dad again. The man is just about to leave for a hunt a state over, shouldn't be gone more than a day or two. And although they're staying with Bobby, Dean is worried. Sam is still poorly. The bruises are appearing all over and he's always sleeping and complaining of feeling bad.
"Dad, I don't think you should go. Sammy is still sick and I really think he needs a doctor now." John huffed in frustration and continues to check he has everything in his duffel.
"Dean, Sam is fine. Kids get colds all the time, and you know him. Picks up every damn thing going. I'll only be gone a day or two and Bobby will be back soon. You will be fine." He swings his pack over his shoulder and checks the room one last time for anything he might have missed.
"Look after Sammy." Is all he says before he leaves the room and heads out towards the front door. Dean hears it slam, and then listens to the Impala roar out of Bobby's yard. Sam was just waking up when Dean made his way over to where his brother was laying.
"D'n?" His sleepy voice calls out, hoarse and dry as it has been for a while now.
"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean takes a seat beside his brother on the bed. On instinct he raised his hand to Sam's sweaty forehead, dismayed to find his temperature had risen since the last time Dean had checked.
"Daddy?" Sam asks quietly, rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists. Dean knows Sam's small for his age, had done research when dad had left the laptop behind last time. Just another thing for Dean to worry about.
"Dad left for work about five minutes ago, Sammy. Now, how d'ya feel? Any better?" Sammy rolled over and sat up against the headboard, face screwed up into a baby version of what dad called a 'bitch face'.
"Didn't say bye? How long for?" Dean sighed, reaching forward t brush his fingers through Sammy's damp hair.
"You were sleeping, he didn't wanna wake you up and he'll only be gone a day or two. Now, you feelin' any better, want something to eat?" Sam shook his head.
"Still don't feel good, Dee. Apple juice?" Dean chuckled.
"Sorry Sammy, Bobby's all out of apple juice. We got milk or water." Sam pulled the bitch face again.
"But I want juice! Sammy demanded, and Dean would have laughed at the disgruntled look on his baby brothers face if it wasn't for the fact that his nose decided it was going to start bleeding again.
"Aw, Sam. You got another nosebleed buddy." Dean stood, then swooped forward. Gathering his brother into his arms, he carried him through to the bathroom. Setting him down on the closed toilet seat, he put a hand on the back of Sammy's head to tilt it forward, making sure the blood didn't flow down Sam's throat and make it harder to breathe.
"Alright squirt. Leave your head like that and don't squirm around. It'll stop soon." Dean pulled down some tissues from beside the toilet and pressed it against Sam's nose. The first bundle was soaked through pretty quickly, which wasn't unusual. However, when it had been five minutes and all that was happening was Sammy getting paler, Dean began to panic. The nosebleeds usually stopped after the first few minutes and Sam usually got over them pretty quickly, but right now Dean could feel the heat radiating from his brothers greying skins and see his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his eyes threatened to close.
"Hey, Sammy?" Dean asked quietly, voice shaking with badly concealed fear. He raised his spare hand and pressed it against Sam's cheek, letting himself smile a little when his baby brother leaned into the touch.
"Mmm?" Came Sam's tired response, forcing his eyes open to look up at Dean.
"How you doing, little man?" He asked gently, stroking his thumb against Sam's cheekbone.
"M'head hurts, Dee. And spinny. Feel funny." The panic in Dean's chest increased. Sammy's voice was slurred and it looked like he could hardly keep his eyes open.
Dean collected a new fist of tissue to press against Sam's nose, scooped his little brother up and carried him on his hip to the kitchen where Bobby's phones were. Dean set Sam down on the table, one hand on Sam's shoulder to hold him steady whilst he reached behind him to grab the phone. Dialling his dads number from memory, Dean prayed he would answer. It rang through until the automated voice told him that the person was unable to receive his call. Dean cursed and looked over at Sam. He didn't look good, and he knew he had to ring someone but it had been ingrained into him that the authorities were not his friends. He couldn't ring for an ambulance, and Bobby was a town over towing a car. This was important though, and Sammy was drooping against him tiredly, so Dean took a breath and dialled the number.
"Hello?" Came Bobby's gruff voice.
"Bobby, it's Dean." He replied hurriedly, as he scooted closer to the table and tilted Sam's limp head back to check the bleeding. Thankfully, it looked like it was slowing, but they still needed help. Sammy was definitely sick. Too sick for Dean to make better by himself.
"Dean, is everything okay? Where's your Daddy?" Bobby's voice became concerned, but it was still gruff.
"Dad's on a hunt since about half an hour ago and he isn't answering his phone. Sammy is really sick and I don't know what to do." Dean spewed out, pulling Sam close to him and rubbing soothing circles on his back. His baby brother had tears streaming down his face now and Dean could tell just by the set of his shoulders and droop of his head against his chest that Sammy was in pain and close to passing out against him.
"What d'ya mean, sick?" Bobby questioned.
"I think he's been sick for weeks but now he has a fever and a headache and I think he's pretty dizzy. And his nose has been bleeding non-stop for ten minutes now." Dean heard Bobby's sharp exhale before the man started talking again.
"Alright, I'm coming home. Just sit right, alright ace? I'll be about half an hour." Dean sighed in relied. As long as nothing changed before Bobby got back then he could do this.
"Yeah, thanks uncle Bobby." Dean replied quickly, listening to Bobby's hum of acknowledgment before hanging up and turning his attention back to his baby brother. The blood stemming from his nose was now slow and thick, coagulating to a stop, which Dean was thankful for. Sammy looked awful though, hair plastered to his warm, damp head. Pale and shaking, slumped exhausted against Dean.
"Hey Sammy, how you doin'? Dam stirred against him, lifting his heavy head to look at Dean through his impossibly long eyelashes. His eyes were wide, rimmed with remaining tears, pulling the puppy dog face that got him pretty much anything from anyone but their father.
"Feel bad, D'n. Want daddy." Sam whined, and Dean sighed.
"I know you do, tiger, but daddy's at work and isn't answering the phone. Uncle Bobby's coming though." Sammy nodded against his chest and let his tired eyes slide closed again.
"M'tired. Go back to bed?" His baby brother muttered. Dean tilted his head back once more, relieved to find the nosebleed had finally come to an end.
"Yeah buddy, we'll just get you cleaned up and into some new PJ's then you can go to sleep alright?" Sam didn't even nod this time, just mumbled a vague sound under his breath and allowed Dean to gather him back up again. They stopped in the bedroom to pick up some fresh clothes and then went back to the bathroom where Dean balance Sam on the toilet seat again, one hand steadying him. His brother was pliant whist Dean cleaned him up and changed him into his dinosaur pyjama's. Three months ago, that wouldn't have been worrisome. But recently Sammy had taken to throwing a fir whenever Dean tried to change his clothes for him. Apparently Sam was a big boy now, nearly four years old - although when he held up fingers to demonstrate his years he only held up two- and he could do it himself. Usually, Dean had to help him out a little in the end but never without a fight. Never just with sleepy compliance like this.
"Alright, little dude, lets get you back to bed." Dean whispered, lifting Sam up and carrying him through to his bed again.
"I'm not little no more, Dee!" Sam retorted weakly as Dean shifted the sheets and comforter over his feverish little brother. Dean grinned a little and snorted.
You'll always be little compared to me, tiger." Dean laughed back, but Sam had already curled up and fallen asleep next to him. Dean sighed, changing his own blood splattered shirt before climbing back onto the bed beside his brother and waited for Bobby.
Bobby arrived twenty minutes later, knocking on the bedroom door and announcing it was himself before Dean even got himself away from Sammy's clingy arms wrapped around him. Gently, he pried himself out of the bed and nudged Bobby back into the hallway, much to the other mans amusement.
"He's asleep now, the nosebleed stopped. But he's really not okay." Dean started, crossing his arms over his chest. "I told dad he wasn't okay a month okay. I knew he wasn't!" Dean growled.
"Alright, Dean. Calm down a minutes will ya? Tell me what you think's been wrong with him and then we can check on him together, alright?" Dean nodded.
"I just thought he had like the flu or something, said he was always said he was cold and his bones were hurting. But then he started getting nosebleeds all the time and these bruises have been coming up all over when he hasn't done anything to cause bruises. And he has really bad headaches, sometimes he doesn't get out of bed all day 'cause of them. Now he has a fever as well." Bobby's eyes widened in a minute show of concern and Dean knew he was right, something was wrong with Sammy.
"You think he needs to go to a doctor too don't you?" Bobby pulled his cap off and ran his hand over his grey hair before nodding.
"You called your daddy since you called me?" Bobby asked, Dean shook his head.
"I called him before I called you but he didn't answer. He hardly ever does when he's on a job." Bobby sighed but gave Dean a nod in acknowledgement.
"Alrighty then, lets go check on your little brother and see where to go from there." Dean moved forward, opening the door and moving into the room before Bobby so he could be the one to wake Sam up. His little brother usually threw a fit if Dean wasn't the first person he saw when he woke up. Conditioning to Dean having practically brought him up. Reaching out, Dean brushed his fingers through Sam's hair.
"Hey, Sammy. I need you to wake up for me." There was no response, so Dean moved his hand down to his little brothers shoulder and shook him gently. Sam's eyes fluttered but closed again soon after. Dean sighed and gave him another shake.
"C'mon Sam. Wake up for a little bit for me okay?" Sam groaned but slowly opened his eyes. He looked exhausted, but once his eyes were open he glanced over at Dean and Bobby stood beside him. His puppy dog eyes were going fully blown, glistening and focusing all of their power directly at his brother and uncle, and then suddenly they weren't. His eyes dulled and lost focus, his body tensed, soft muscles going hard under Dean's touch and his entire body trembled slightly.
"Bobby! Something's happening!" Dean cried. Bobby nudged Dean out of the way a little, pressing his fingers to the pulse in Sam's neck and measuring it's horribly fast beat. The boys breathing was erratic, his body still tense and shaking beneath his fingertips. Bobby had seen this before, in a young boy at a hospital he'd been visiting as part of a case. He recalled the nurses shouting 'He's fitting, petit mal!' before the doctors had come and whisked him out of view. What was happening now was almost exactly the same as what he had seen then. Dean watched as panic and then understanding registered on Bobby's face.
"What's happening?" He demanded, fearful and confused. Bobby spared him a sympathetic glance.
"He's very sick Dean." As Bobby was talking, Sam's body went slack again and slumped back against the bed. As far as Dean could see, Sam was a little bit awake but not fully. His breathing was fast and he was moaning like he did when his head was hurting too much. As soon as Bobby felt the boy go limp beneath his fingers, he pulled him up into his arms gently and made out the doorway, knowing Dean would follow.
"We need to get Sammy to a hospital."