Summary: After a hunt gone wrong, Sam is left struggling to breathe on the bathroom floor.
Their last hunt must not have ended well, but he was too exhausted to piece together what had happened. He felt so tired. Through half-masted eyes, he took in the bright bathroom, the light causing the pain in his head to spike. His lids closed, but he immediately tried to reopen them, knowing that, for some reason, he shouldn't sleep, no matter how much he wanted to. Something wasn't right. He could feel it deep down in his bones. He needed help.
He lay prone on the cold tiles, his side aching from where he must have fallen to the floor. He maneuvered his free hand that wasn't trapped beneath his body to try to push himself up, but that was a mistake. Pain tore through him, ripping his chest in two. His lungs seized, the breath stuttering in his chest. He lay still on the floor, his hand splayed over his side, willing the pain to subside and for oxygen to find its way to his lungs, but he couldn't breathe.
Precious seconds passed before his airways decided to cooperate once again, but he could only pull in shallow breaths, each one slowly wheezing its way in and out of his gaping mouth.
"Sam?" There was a knock at the door. "You alright, Sammy? I haven't heard the shower turn on yet…you okay in there?"
Sam tried. Honest to goodness, he tried his hardest to get words past his pale lips, but despite his best efforts, he achieved hardly more than a croak.
There were a couple more knocks on the door. "Sammy? If you don't answer, I swear I'll tear this door down, whether you're decent or not, man," Dean said. Sam could detect an element of worry in his tone.
Sam tried again, but the sound of his brother's name was barely a whisper, a sound he knew wouldn't be heard, not even to his big brother's foxlike hearing. He hoped Dean would bust the door down. Paying to replace a hotel door was preferable to giving in to the black dots that swam invitingly across his vision. They were enticing, but his tired mind knew he couldn't give in.
"I'm coming in, Sammy!" Dean yelled, and not even a second later, Sam heard the splintering of wood and the accompanying thud of the door colliding with the unforgiving floor. "SAM!"
It became a blur. Hands were touching him, turning him on his side, gently triaging across his body to find what was wrong. He felt an ear pressed to his chest, heard some swearing, and felt his brother's fingers press into his neck.
"Geez, Sammy, you're lips are turning blue," Dean stated, carding a hand through his hair in distress.
Sam tried to nod, but wasn't sure if he was successful. He could hear his own labored breaths, but it didn't feel like he was taking in any air at all. His brother's concerned face wavered over his vision, blurred and distorted, haloed against the bathroom light behind him.
"You must've slipped, Sam. I told you to rest instead of insisting on a shower. That's not a minor concussion you're sporting, and with those busted ribs…," he paused, letting out a breath, "I think you punctured a lung. Dang it, Sam. You always have to go and make things more complicated than they need to be, don't you?" he said, but even Sam's tired, barely lucid mind knew there was no heat to the statement.
It got quiet for a moment, and Sam felt himself drifting off, only to be lightly shaken awake a second later.
"Hey. No going to sleep, Sam. Cas is on his way. He'll fix you right up, and then you can shower and sleep for as long as you want, okay? Just breathe, dude, come on," he said, grabbing one of Sam's hands and placing it over his own chest. Sam appreciated the gesture, but it didn't make pulling air into his battered lungs any easier. "Cas is coming," he repeated, most likely to reassure himself just as much as to reassure Sam.
There was a knock on their hotel door, and Dean gave Sam's hand a squeeze. "See, told ya, Sam," he said, relief plain in his tone. He gave his hand another squeeze before setting it down and going to answer the door.
His eyes slipped closed again. Any fear he had was virtually gone, now that the angel was here. He'd be okay. He had his family here.
Even through his closed lids, he saw the healing light that emanated from Castiel's fingers touching his chest. The feeling was uncomfortable at first, but then he felt a pressure being released from him and the aching washed away with it. He felt sweet air enter his lungs with minimal effort and he savored it. He blinked his eyes open, his vision much clearer than before.
"Um, thanks. Can I take a shower now?"
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