Guardian Angel
Chapter 2
Notes: Aw, guys, thanks as always for your wonderful support and awesome reviews, fav's and alerts ;) – I know Sammy 'fudged' quite a bit in the previous chapter, but I'm blaming the stress he's under, nothing to do with the fact that Phoebe taught me everything I know *shakes head* – he may 'fudge' a little here too, but that's entirely Dean's fault LOL :D
Part 2 of the Birthday fic (5th June) for the generous, talented and completely awesome PADavis :D
Also, next chapter of 'Bad Blood' will be posted soon, hang in their Lizz :)
Also check out these stories written for me:
PADavis – Menage a Trois
Muffy Morrigan – Apercu - and something in the pipeline YAY ;)
Amarintha – Supernatural: Teaser
Silver Ruffian – Who let the Dogs Out
Iza love them!! XD
Warning: Rated T for bad language – still not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine :)
Sam poured the second Styrofoam cup full of steaming soup. The stuff smelled delicious. Chicken noodle. He was pretty sure Dean would be able to handle that. At least he hoped he'd keep it down. He couldn't resist a tentative sip, and was surprised at how good it tasted.
"So, what brings ya to these parts of the woods?"
He glanced over his shoulder at the reception desk. The guy was watching him intently, arms folded, leaning back in a chair that had probably seen better days.
"Um, we're Park Rangers. Got kinda lost on the way back."
"Park Rangers, huh?"
Sam nodded as he placed a lid over the cup, deciding to stick with their current cover.
"Yeah."
He scanned the vending machines for other items they might need, afraid they'd be stuck here for a few days and he sure as shit didn't want to have to leave Dean again, not if he could help it.
"Your partner sick?"
He waited for the machine to accept the twenty dollar bill, collecting the change, before retrieving the six bottles of Gatorade, choosing the flavor Dean least despised.
"Yeah, really sick actually. I think I need to get him to a hospital as soon as I can."
He turned around, stuffing the bottles into the various pockets of his huge winter jacket.
"Do you know how far it is to the nearest hospital?"
"Like I said, kid. Nothing for miles, 'cepting this place, and with this storm, you'd never make it on these roads. Best to just wait it out."
The guy sighed, shrugging his shoulders.
"Pretty desolate up here, hardly ever see anyone, so I sorta like to think of this place as a haven for lost travelers."
Sam couldn't even begin to imagine how bored he'd be if he were stuck in a place like this, in a job like this. And the realization that this was the only place for miles, where he could take care of Dean, didn't ease Sam's mind one bit. It was definitely going to be a long night.
"Besides, I don't really like having too many people around, left the rat race a long time ago, like the slower pace, ya know what I mean?"
Coming to think of it, a slower pace would be nice for a change, they hadn't had a break in months. Maybe once Dean was better, they'd go down to Florida on a holiday or something, get some sun.
"You stay here by yourself?"
"Nah, I have a cat … he's around here somewhere."
The guy waved his hand around the room, ducking to see if he could spot anything moving, Sam's eyes following his.
So Dean had seen a cat?
"Damned strange little fella mind ya, sneaks around all the time. There one minute, gone the next. He's sorta a beige color, has a scraggly dark patch of fur right on top of his head."
The guy was fluffing the top of his balding head as he described the cat's features. Okay. Weird.
He found he was still trying to mentally catalog what might be left in their med kit, praying that something there would help his sick brother in the meantime. From the looks of things, nothing else here would be of use, he needed to get back.
"I have some first aid stuff that ya welcome to. Need it when you live miles away from any help, plus some other supplies."
Sam knees almost went weak with relief, the guy must have been reading his mind.
"Seriously? That will be great, I'll pay you for whatever we use."
"Sure."
He got up, shuffling over to a cupboard, Sam noting for the first time that he was wearing big, fluffy slippers. He watched as he pulled out a huge carry bag with a red cross emblazoned on the side. He also pulled out some extra blankets, a couple of warm bottles and towels.
"There ya go, help ya self."
He dumped everything on the desk, letting Sam rearrange all the supplies, transferring the Gatorade from his pockets and into the bag, so that he could carry it. He'd do a thorough search of the contents when he got back to the room.
"I don't know what to say, this is great, man, really … thanks."
His voice broke on those words, 'cause shit, this guy was like a God send.
"No worries, kid, just shout if ya need anything else. I'm not goin' anywhere."
Sam smiled, nodding his thanks again, before venturing out into the frigid storm, two steaming cups of soup in each gloved hand, making his way through the haze, back to their room.
The wind was buffeting him as he forced his way forward. The clerk was a little strange, but Sam would have to find some way to repay his generosity, 'cause hot damn, they seriously needed some good luck round about now, and blow him over, if their luck hadn't just changed. He was pretty sure he would at least find some antibiotics in the heavy kit he had secured on his back.
He squinted, looking ahead, spotting a glowing light. Thank god. He was a few feet away when he's gut told him something was wrong. As he got closer he felt his heart plummet to his shoes. There was light pouring out of an open door. Their motel room door? OH FUCK. He was instantly on alert, trying to remember if he'd forgotten to close the door properly. OH SHIT. And Dean was in there, probably freezing his balls off, and he was sick … OH FUCK! OH SHIT! Sam ran the last few steps, pushing his way into the cold room, snow already melting at the threshold.
"DEAN?"
He placed the two cups on the table, dropping the bag and quickly scanning the room.
His heart began jack hammering in his chest when he noticed the empty bed, covers thrown back. He immediately made a dash for the bathroom, a quick look revealing that Dean wasn't their either. He looked at the open door for a split second before letting his eyes roam around the room again, his brain not wanting to process the possibility that …
Oh god.
He was instantly running
"DEAN! … DEAN!"
Thoughts of his brother lying just outside their door had him rushing up and down the corridor, brushing snow off any mounds he spotted, yelling at the top of his lungs. He could barely hear the sound of his voice above the wind as he rushed back. Maybe, please god, Dean was into the Impala. He fumbled with the locked door handles, before wiping at the side windows frantically, to see if he could spot a leg, an arm, through the glass. Still nothing. He looked out hopelessly at the white mass falling in heavy sheets, blocking his view of the entire car park, he couldn't even see the reception from here. Oh god, no! Dean could be lying just a few feet away.
He wanted to just run out, search for his brother, bring him back inside and kick his stupid ass straight into next week, but he didn't even know which way to go?
Where to start?
He knew time was of the essence, 'cause Dean was out there in this storm with practically nothing on, and Sam couldn't see shit. He was yelling himself hoarse, the wind just muffling his panicked screams.
"DEAN! DEAN! Answer me, damnit!"
Okay, okay, breathe.
He needed to pull his shit together, have a game plan. Dean was out there, somewhere. Dean needed him … quickly … and fuck? Where to start? He rushed back into the room, scanning everything again, making a mental check of things he was going to need. He looked at the chair, noticing that his hoodie was missing. OH THANK GOD. The hoodie. He was scrambling through Dean's backpack throwing out socks, underwear, t-shirts until he finally found the item he was looking for.
He pulled off his right glove with his teeth, pressing the 'on' button with stiff fingers and hitting the small device a few times, until a steady red 'bleep' appeared on the screen. Oh thank god for overprotective, older brothers. Dean had put tracking devices on a few items of his clothing, including his well worn sweater, after their stint in OBX, and from the read-out, Dean was further than Sam had expected, moving gradually further away. Assuming Dean still had the hoodie on his person, shit, and hadn't dropped it in his delirium, letting the wind take it, Sam was pretty sure he could locate him.
The urge to just run out and get Dean was overwhelming, he was itching to move now, but he doubted he'd find his way back in the heavy snow fall.
Okay, first things first. He needed Dean's winter jacket, a blanket ... check, check. He knelt in front of the first aid bag and hurriedly started unpacking everything on the floor. Dean had congested lungs, he probably wasn't breathing too well, and Sam needed something for that, just in case.
He found a box, with what looked like an asthma pump. He read the label. Xopenex HFA Inhalation Aerosol. Okay, that would have to do. He tore the packaging open and stuffed the inhaler into his pocket. He checked the AC again; left it on full heat, made sure he had the keys before exiting the room and shutting the door, but not locking it. He pulled the hood of his jacket further over his head, with the blanket and Dean's jacket over one arm and the tracking device in his free hand.
He pushed forward against the strength of the wind, not wanting to think of Dean out there … so close and yet so far. He was tempted to just start running in that general direction, adrenalin pumping, but finding Dean without a quick route back to the room would be futile and possibly more life threatening to the both of them.
He opened the boot of the Impala, scratching around until he found the neatly bundled neon colored, nylon rope that they used when entering caves. Dean hated caves, and preferred to have a 'shiny' rope that could mark and lead the way out, when and if the need arose.
He was planning on using that same technique now. He slammed the boot, moving over to the nearest pole supporting the roof structure over the open passageway in front of the motel rooms.
Quickly securing the end, he looped his arm through the bundle, checking his watch compass one more time and finally starting his arduous journey into the raging eddies of snow.
"I'm coming, Dean … just hold on."
The snow was quickly dusting him like frosting on a fruit cake as he followed the route. The red dot shining like a beacon on the screen … that red dot was his brother, god, he prayed it was Dean.
He found that he was counting off each grueling step that was hopefully taking him to his brother. Fear spurring him on, his throat tight with dread as visions bombarded his mind of what he would possibly find.
Don't be dead, don't be dead!
He was getting closer, each minute ticking by slowly, but Dean had covered a surprisingly large area. The blip had stopped moving about two minutes ago, and Sam found that he was almost running against the gale force, sweating heavily from the effort. The snow was ankle deep and he still couldn't see further than his hands. He was blind out here.
What had possessed Dean to venture out into this? Who was he kidding; he should never have left him in the first place. Dean was sick, delirious. Shit. The guilt was already eating him up; this was his fault … if anything happened …
Ten minutes later and the screen showed that he was right on top of the blip. That meant Dean was in front of him somewhere, sonnavabith, he couldn't see anything. The panic he was feeling was overwhelming as he started scanning the area. Nothing, just blinding white. He began screaming his brother's name, knowing it was probably hopeless.
"DEAN!"
Nothing. He took a few steps forward.
"DEAN!! CAN YOU HEAR ME?"
Shit, shit, he could barely hear himself … he started to move forward again, almost walking slap bang into a pillar of snow.
He stopped.
Oh god. Not a pillar of snow … Dean!
He rushed forward, hands already moving to dust off and steady his swaying brother. Dean was plastered with snow, flakes sparkling on his hair and eyelashes. Pale arms were folded across his bare chest, still clutching Sam's sweater, shaking violently.
"Oh god, oh god!"
Dean's lips were blue, eyes only half open and swollen red. He was staring out at nothing, and it looked like he'd been crying. Sam swallowed back a sob, ducking, trying to see Dean's face. Dazed eyes finally locked with his, and a small, shivering smile suddenly broke those frozen features.
"Sm?'
Sam stuffed the tracker in his pocket, pushing the blanket and Dean's jacket securely between his knees, before shucking out of his own body-heated jacket and draping it over Dean's shoulders. He pulled the hood down over his brother's head and zipped the whole thing up. Cold was hitting him with such intense force, it hurt, and he knew that Dean was in serious trouble here. He had to get him back, get him warm.
"Yeah, it's me, dude … what do ya say we get you back inside?"
Dean still swayed, glassy eyes locked on Sam as he watched him quickly put on the other jacket, before his attention was drawn away, staring off at something in the distance again.
"You with me, Dean? Look at me!"
Dean's eyes were wide with wonder, his face glowing, skin so translucent, he looked almost angelic.
"Ttthey … wwwwant me … ta fffollow …."
Sam looked around stupidly before realization hit. He was losing Dean, he's brother was probably so far gone, on the verge of going into that damn light everyone kept talking about, and shit, that was not happening on his fucking watch!
"Look at me, dude! There's nothing there … you hear me … you're not following anyone but me … okay!"
He cupped his brother's face between his palms, forcing him to look into his determined eyes. Willing him to hold on to life.
"Kkkkay?"
Dean's legs decided to give way at that exact moment, and Sam managed to grab onto him just as they both collapsed to their knees, Sam pressing Dean's torso up against his own as he started coughing weakly.
"It's okay, I got ya, I got ya."
He was whispering those words into his hair as he held him close, wrapping his arms around his brothers shivering form for a luxurious second. God, he had him, had his brother in his arms, but Dean was barely alive. He quickly secured the blanket tightly around his brother's entire frame. Digging into his pocket for the inhaler.
"Ffffound … ya …"
Sam smiled at that.
"Yeah you did."
He grabbed Dean's chin, forcing his shivering brother to look at him again. That silly grin was still on his face, but his eyes were starting to roll, on the verge of unconsciousness, and Sam needed to keep him breathing.
"Dean, I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay … I need you to breathe this in."
He placed the inhaler between Dean's quivering lips, teeth chattering against the plastic. Dean was looking right through him, eyes glazing over. Sam began shaking him in anger. He was not going to lose his brother … not like this.
"DEAN! Listen to me! I'll count to ten, try and hold your breath, okay? You know the drill."
Dean thankfully gave a small nod, and Sam released a puff of the inhaler, watching as his brother took in a breath, but he could only hold it for two counts before he started coughing again, wheezing as he slumped forward into Sam's embrace.
Shit, that would have to do. Stuffing the inhaler into another pocket, he shifted his position, one arm under Dean's knees, before lifting him up into his arms. His brother was heavy but Sam barely noticed, already securing his hold on the rope as he started following the trail back. Dean would hate this, but he had no choice. A fireman's carry would be faster and easier, but would only loosen the thick mucus lodged in Dean's lungs, and he'd probably choke before they made it back.
"Fffffound … ya …"
Sam leaned forward, barely hearing his brother's delirious, whispered ramblings.
"Ya ….c'dav … dddied…"
The hurt and loss in those few words tore at Sam's heart.
"Yeah, but I didn't, you saved me … like always, Dean … you saved me."
Oh god, he was going to lose him if he didn't work fast. Dean was shaking so violently that Sam was battling to keep his balance. He was walking faster now, the wind direction pushing him from behind and helping his forward momentum.
Just as Sam thought he could see a haze of light ahead, Dean suddenly went completely limp in his arms. He instantly dropped to his knees, his ear next to Dean's mouth. He held his breath until he heard the faint rasping coming from his brothers pale lips. He was breathing, but he wasn't shivering. That was definitely a bad sign. He was on his feet in an instant, muscles protesting, but back at their motel, releasing the rope and pushing his way inside the room, within minutes.
He slammed the door shut with his foot, quickly moving and depositing his brother gently onto the nearest bed.
Sam went on to auto pilot. Dad's training finally coming in handy. He quickly checked Dean's pulse before moving over to start the kettle. On his way to the bathroom he collected some towels. He poured a basin of hot water, returning to Dean and carefully removed the blanket and jacket. He dipped the cloth into the warm water, wringing it out and wiping it slowly over Dean's frozen feet, moving his way along the whole of his body, washing off the residue snow, before quickly toweling him dry. He prayed that Dean wasn't suffering from frost bite as he added two layers of thick socks to Dean's feet. Sam changed Dean's boxers, modesty be damned, with a pair of long johns, that he always pretended he didn't own, and then lifted him up and carried him to his own bed, tucking him under the layers of warm blankets.
He made two warm bottles, covered them thickly in towels and positioned one between Dean's knees and the other next to his chest. He knew that he had to warm Dean up slowly; any drastic change in temperature now, could stop his heart.
It was worrying Sam that Dean hadn't even moved, wasn't making any sounds except for his labored breathing.
He cleared some space on the little table next to the bed, leaving the inhaler there; hoping he would be able to get Dean to take in a few more lungs full if it became necessary. He also placed the two cups of soup, a bottle of Gatorade, Vicks vapor rub and some antibiotics within arm's reach.
A sound from the bed had him looking over at his brother. Dean was suddenly gasping, arching his back, as he struggled to inhale. Sam quickly sat on the bed, pulling his brother up and once again resorting to hitting him between the shoulder blades. Dean choked, coughing painfully as Sam clung to him, coaching him to breathe in and out.
When he was sure Dean could manage on his own again, he propped him up against a wall of pillows. His temperature was far too low and body heat was his best option. Sam kept a steady hand on Dean as he quickly pulled off his own clothing. Left only in his t-shirt and boxers, he climbed in behind his brothers still form. Shit, Dean was ice cold. Once settled, he placed his hand on his Dean's forehead, pulling him to lean against his chest, letting Dean's head fall back against his shoulder, opening his airway a bit.
"Don't die Dean, please … just don't die."
It was a prayer, a mantra. Dean gave a soft whimper, his chest battling to expand as he wheezed in air.
"Shhhh … I've got you … you're gonna be okay."
Sam picked up the small, blue bottle next to the bed, loosening the lid and letting his fingers dig out a dollop of the eucalyptus smelling gel, before vigorously rubbing the Vicks onto Deans exposed chest. The shallow, rattling noises were becoming worse, confirming just how congested Dean's lungs were. Sam continued with the soothing, circular motions, the sticky gel warming under his fingers, until he felt his brother's body begin to relax against his own.
He made sure the blankets were securely tucked around them both, ensconcing them in a warm cocoon. The room was hot but Dean was still freezing. Later on he'd have to check Dean over, start a 'vapour steam bowl' to help open his lungs, but for now he just had to get him warm. Please god, let him just get warm.
He was gently rocking them both as he hugged his brother closer, whispering reassurances into his ear.
"Stay with me, Dean ... please."
Finally, he settled back against the pillows, his fingers covering the pulse point on Dean's wrist, counting the beats per minute. His pulse was still way too slow, but at least it was steady.
Sam knew there was a long battle ahead, Dean was fighting for his life, but he wouldn't be fighting alone.
TBC
End note: Tracking devices and OBX belong to PADavis ... check out her story "OBX" if you haven't already :D
