A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! Special thanks to Heather03nmg and Agent Five for patient answers to very annoying medical questions. Thanks to Dennis for making sure it was not overly chick flick and huge thanks to beta Abni for everything. All mistakes are still mine.
Be Still My Beating Heart
Chapter Four
A lesson once learned is so hard to forget
-Sting
The emergency room was busy. There was the sound of a man shouting from a room up the hall. It was a place of constant movement. The woman in the next bed had stopped screaming, her voice had been reduced to whimpers. People in scrubs bustled in and out, checking on her, looking at Dean as they walked past.
Dean was watching his brother. Sam had his eyes trained, for the most part, out into the hallway, waiting for someone to come in and tell them what was going on. He sat up suddenly and glanced at Dean. "Something's coming." Something Sammy? What? A demon? What? Sam must have felt the tensing of his muscles, he looked over and smiled. "Sorry, I meant someone is coming with a machine, in here."
The machine in question was rolled to a stop at the end of Dean's bed. "We need to get a chest x-ray," the guy who had brought the machine in said. He had Dean lean forward so he could slide a plate behind him and then stepped away from the machine to take the picture. Nice that he had Sam move away. He pulled the plate from behind Dean and disappeared without another word. I wish someone would just tell us what is going on. This is getting old, ok not having a heart attack, but what? My chest is still exploding, I still hurt with two shots of morphine in me and I can hardly breathe. I am hooked up to some mysterious IV and no one says anything. Sam looks freaked.
His brother looked over at him and squeezed his hand a little. "I'm sure someone will let us know soon, Dean. How are you feeling?" He glanced up at the heart monitor again. "You heart is still beating like crazy." He frowned. "Does it hurt?"
"Yeah, hurts like hell Sammy, and I feel like I have just run about eighty miles without a break, being pursued by all the fiends in hell."
"I think it was that medicine they gave you, it seemed to really go up then," Sam said concern in his voice.
"How fast?"
"You don't really want to know Dean, trust me."
"More than a hundred?" Sam nodded, frowning. "More than one ten?" Sam nodded again. "Ok you're right I don't want to know."
"Good choice," Sam said with a small smile. "Are you thirsty or anything Dean?"
"No, I'm ok, thanks." Well, not ok, just not thirsty. Freaked out. Not thirsty.
Sam went back to watching the corridor. He would look over at Dean every few minutes, then look back at the hall. Still here, Sam. Don't worry. Sam tensed. Dean felt the tension vibrate down his arm and into his hand.
"What?" he said looking over at his brother.
"The idiot vampire is coming back," Sam said standing.
What does he mean by…The kid with the needles came around the curtain. Hell no, no, no. Dean felt like all his veins suddenly went into hiding. His neck was tightening, a knot of pain driving a nail up over his head and into his face. This is just getting better and better.
"We need a little more blood, run one more test," the kid said plopping down on the stool by Dean. The taller guy came around again, too. They put started poking at Dean's elbow again. What the hell, that didn't work remember?
"That didn't work last time, do you really think that's a good plan?" Sam said. Dean could hear the simmering anger in his brother's voice. He might kill them this time.
The needle drove into his arm, jabbing again, withdrawing, jabbing again. Sam was watching them, Dean was trying to focus on not screaming. But it does take my mind off the other. They gave up after seven attempts and started poking at his hand, six attempts there and the other hand, Sam moving to the end of the bed to make room for them. The look in his brother's eyes made Dean smile.Hurricane Sammy is coming in a minute. They gave up and walked to the end of the bed. The tall guy pulled off Dean's sock. What the hell?
"We're going to take it out of your foot, you have a good vein here," the kid said, jabbing the needle in before Dean could say anything. And wow, feet hurt, not a fun place to have a needle shoved in. Not fun at all. They smiled and left.
"Sammy? You ok?" Dean said looking at his brother.
"Me? Sure," Sam said.
"You look a little pissed."
"A little, Dean, maybe a more than a little," Sam said with a tight smile. He glanced up at the monitor and then sat down again. "I just wish they would come in and tell us something." Me too, Sam. I am completely freaked out, still not breathing good, chest still hurts, what the hell is going on?
The time passed, Dean watched the IV bag slowly empty, Sam watched the heart monitor and the hall. No one stopped, no one told them what was happening. Sam is really starting to look bad, I wish they would talk to us for his sake.
Heather the Nurse sauntered in, pushing the fancy EKG machine. "I'm just going to run one more EKG really quick." She hooked Dean up to the machine and printed something out, smiled and then started unhooking him from everything. Sam looked away when she pulled the IV, Dean smiled a little at that. "Ok, you're all set."
"But what's going on?" Sam said, a desperate tinge to his voice.
"Oh, didn't the doctor come in and talk to you? I'm so sorry," she actually sounded sorry, too. "I'll go get him and bring in your orders and prescriptions." She disappeared out the door.
Dean sat up and tried to muster a smile for his brother. "I don't have shoes," he said.
"I'll bring the car around, that way you don't have far to go, I don't want you walking a long way any way." Sam put a hand out to steady him. "Don't you want to lie down till the doctor gets here?"
"No, I want out as soon as we can," Dean said, shivering. Sam noticed and pulled his jacket off and put it over Dean shoulders.
"Well," the doctor said coming around the curtain. "How are you feeling?"Uh, how do you think? Let's see, can't breathe, chest hurts, heart's pounding, oh and some freaking idiot put about a million holes in me.
"What's wrong with him?" Sam said, Dean could see Sam bracing himself for the worst news.
"Pleurisy, pneumonia and an asthma attack—a really bad one," the doctor said with a smile.
"I don't have asthma," Dean said.
"You do right now," the doctor said. "I wrote prescriptions for something for the pain, something to help you breathe and an antibiotic."
"So it's nothing serious, see Sam, nothing bad at all," Dean said.
"I didn't say that, you are ill, young man. Strict bed rest for at least a week." He smiled at Heather when she brought a pile of papers in. Dean signed one and she handed the rest to Sam. "If you have any worsening of symptoms at all call your doctor or come back here. Don't risk your life, son," he smiled at them and wandered out.
"I might have misjudged him a little," Sam said, helping Dean up onto his feet. "I'll set you down by the door and go grab the car. Then I'll take you back to our room and run get the drugs."
"I think I will just ride along to the drugstore, ok?" Dean said, trying to shake Sam's hand off his arm. His brother let go of his arm, until Dean nearly fell as a wave of dizziness caught him off guard. Sam caught him before he could fell, but wouldn't let go of his arm after that.
"I think you should go to bed, Dean," Sam said.
"No, let me ride along, I'll be fine in the car, and then we can go back to the motel," Dean said, trying to focus on walking without falling down. Please, Sam, don't make me beg, I just don't want to be alone right now. I kind of scared myself and I don't want to be alone.
Sam helped him down onto the bench by the door, and then looked at him, he smiled. "Ok, Dean, you can't get out though."
"Thanks, Sammy," Dean leaned back on the bench and watched as Sam walked out the door to get the car. At least it's not my heart. Maybe we got lucky this time.
XXX
It was cold, at least after the warmth of the ER it seemed cold. Sam walked back through the parking lot to the car. He smiled gently, offering a small gesture of sympathy as someone jumped out of their car and started running towards the emergency room. He was slowly becoming aware of relief, creeping slowly out of his brain and letting his heart beat properly, letting his breathing normalize. The anger was still simmering, watching the two guys torturing his brother with the needle had very nearly driven him to violence. That and the fact no one thought to tell us he wasn't having a heart attack for nearly two hours and then just ignored us again for another hour. If Dean had been in better shape he would have just left himself, I bet. I should have chased the answers harder, but I didn't want to leave him. He looked completely freaked. Still does.
He got into the car, turned it on and let it warm up for a minute. He pushed the heater over to full blast, hoping the car would be a little warm for Dean when he got in. Pleurisy? I seem to remember it's an inflammation having to do with the lungs. And pneumonia? How did I let him get away with that? I should have said something, things like that can go horribly wrong untreated. But it's not his heart, thank god, maybe we got lucky this time.
Sam pulled the car up at the entrance. He saw Dean push himself to his feet and then drop back down on the bench. Yeah, Dean, you're sick, get it? He smiled to himself as he walked to the door. I'm glad he sort of insisted on riding with me. I don't want to leave him alone, but I'm not sure how to handle that sometimes. The sliding doors opened and Dean looked up at him a little sheepishly. "Well you didn't go all the way to the floor at least, Dean," Sam said, hauling him to his feet.
"Yep."
Sam kept a hand on him as they walked out the door to the car. At least he lets me help a little sometimes. I know he'd prefer to not need help. I remember after he was electrocuted he wouldn't really let me help, wouldn't even let me give him a hand out of the damn car. Sometimes it is so hard to watch him—knowing he's thinking he has to do it all for himself . I know he hates feeling helpless, but…not letting me help makes me feel a little helpless, too, you know, Dean. He settled Dean in, putting an old blanket over him. Dean didn't resist just leaned his head back on the seat. Sam walked around and got in.
"I saw a twenty-four-hour pharmacy up the road from the motel. I'll stop there and get the drugs and anything else you need."
"Hot Heather the Nurse? Think they have her there?" Dean said. Sam noticed how weak his voice sounded. How did I ignore this for so long? Has he sounded like that all along?
"I don't think you can get those at a pharmacy," Sam said with a smile.
"Need to figure a way to see her again, dude, hot, all Heathers, I'm telling you," Dean said.
"Maybe you should try a different name for your hunt Dean, give the Heathers a break."
"Nah, still a lot of Heathers to get through—did I ever tell you about that one in Tucumcari? Said she was twenty four, turned out to be forty two and wow, what a night," Dean said with a little cough.
"Maybe you shouldn't talk, Dean. I don't think you should strain your lungs, ok?" Sam said, concerned at the little wheeze that he now heard clearly each time his brother took a breathe. Not letting anything slip by me again, Dean.
"You just don't want to hear about my Heather conquests."
"Or any others, Dean, but seriously, don't talk, ok? Rest," he said as he pulled into the pharmacy parking lot. "I'll be right back, if you need me call me, ok?"
"Dude? Come on, not six, just leave the window cracked and the radio on. I'll be fine."
Sam smiled and got out, grabbing the list of prescriptions from the hospital and walked into the brightly lit store. He dropped the prescriptions off, chatted with the pharmacist on duty for a minute and wandered around the store, grabbing the extra items the pharmacist suggested. He also picked up some orange juice, the new Spenser novel for himself, and stopping by the magazines picked up the "American Muscle Cars—All Impala Edition" for Dean. They finally called Dean's name and Sam went and paid for everything, listening carefully to the instructions for the narcotics, anti-inflammatory, antibiotic and inhaler.
"I'm back," he said, dropping into the car.
"Good thing it's you, if you were here to steal her, I'd just have to ride along," Dean said without opening his eyes.
Sam laughed and headed back to the motel. The parking place right in front of their door was empty. Maybe our luck is holding. He pulled in and helped Dean into the room, settling him gently on the bed. He pulled the covers back and Dean laid down with a sigh. Sam grabbed an extra pillow and tucked it behind his brother's head. "You need to take your drugs before you go to sleep Dean," he said pouring him orange juice.
"K, Sammy," Dean said drowsily. He took the pills without protest. Sam pulled the blankets up, making sure Dean was well covered before taking the empty glass back to the kitchen. I wonder how I can manage to sit with him? "Sammy?"
"Yeah?"
"You can see the TV better from this bed, it's ok to sit here, if you want, the TV won't bother me," he said quietly.
"Sure, thanks." That was easier than I thought it would be. Sam grabbed a piece of cold pizza and a coke and settled down on the bed. He sat close enough so his shoulder was resting against Dean a little. He carefully pulled the covers under Dean's chin.
"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said sleepily.
Sam sat listening until Dean's wheezing breath eased off into sleep. He sighed and flipped the stations on the TV. There has to be something to watch doesn't there? Hey, Red Dwarf, and season two, too bad Dean's not awake, he loves season two. How many times has he seen Queeg anyway? Right up there with Spinal Tap, I think. He leaned back on the headboard a little, keeping an eye on Dean and watching the TV. Hey, a marathon, alright. I wonder if they'll show season three, too?
Dean started coughing, Sam frowned. That doesn't sound good. Dean kept coughing, Sam gently picked him up and held him propped against his shoulder. "Thanks, Sam," Dean said between coughs, he coughed a little more and then dropped back off to sleep. Sam pulled the covers over his brother's shoulder and settled back to watch the rest of the marathon, careful not to disturb his sleeping brother.
XXX
The sun was pouring through the windows, shining brightly against his eyelids, the TV was on, someone was moving around in the room. He thought he smelled coffee. Coffee would be good. He lay still for a minute longer as awareness fully crept in. God, I feel awful. What's wrong? Oh yeah, right, ride in an ambulance and fun times. Sam said something last night about painkillers? My chest is killing me. He opened his eyes. "Sam?"
"Hey, Dean, how do you feel?" Sam said from the kitchenette.
"Like owls nested in my mouth," he said forcing himself up. "Do I smell coffee?"
"No, sorry, but no coffee. You aren't supposed to have it, the doctor's orders said no caffeine," Sam said filling a cup with water from the coffee pot and stirring something in.
Oh, this is going to be just freaking great. "I smell coffee," he said stubbornly.
"It's the pot, I used it to make hot water," his brother said bringing him a cup. "After you drink that I'll make toast and then you can take your antibiotics. It says take with food." Sam also handed him a pill. "Thought you might need that."
"Thanks," Dean said swallowing the pain pill. He sniffed the liquid in the cup. "What the hell is this, Sammy?"
"Chai tea."
"What?"
"Chai tea—tea with spices and milk."
"You're not only giving me tea, but a tea latte? A tea latte? Dude, come on."
"Drink it, the warmth will help. I'm going to run to the office and let them know that we'll be here for a week or so. I didn't want to go until you were awake, I'll be right back, ok?"
"Not six, Sammy," Dean said, trying to sound sulky, it didn't work well, he was running out of breath. His brother grinned at him and left. Dean sipped at the tea. Ok, not bad, tastes kind of like pumpkin pie in a cup. So not telling Sam. The warm liquid did seem to make his chest feel a little better. I wonder how he knows I don't really want to be alone right now? Nice that he sat with me last night. God, I hope I didn't do something embarrassing like fall asleep on his shoulder.
Sam came back in a minute later, a wide smile on his face. "All taken care of," he said still grinning.
"What?"
"Oh, the manager gave me her grandmother's sovereign remedy for pleurisy, said it used to be common and 'Granny Means' always took care of it," Sam was shaking his head.
"What? I have a bad feeling about this Sam, what?"
"Oh nothing bad, Dean, nothing at all, all natural remedy." Still grinning.
"Sam, I'm sick, weak, feverish, do you want to make it worse by teasing me?" he said in his best whining tone.
"Of course not, never," Sam said grinning.
Having fun at the sick guy's expense, Sammy? "Well?"
Sam's grin got even wider. "Well you start with a mustard plaster."
"Doesn't sound too bad so far," Dean said warily.
"Nope, then you get a chicken," Sam paused for dramatic effect. "A live chicken and split it open and put it on the patient's chest."
"You do what? You're kidding? So the cure is so unbelievably gross you have to get better?"
"Probably," Sam said laughing. "You ever let something like this get out of hand again Dean and it's chickens for you."
"Fine," he said taking the toast and pills Sam handed him. "Can I get out of bed long enough to take a shower?"
"Sure, just be careful, ok?" Sam said watching him pull himself out of bed.
"Sam? I've been taking showers for my whole life? I think I can manage it." He thought he had pulled it off until he swayed and nearly fell, Sam grabbing his arm before he ended up face down on the carpet. That was smooth. Sam helped him to the bathroom door.
"I put some soap in the shower for you, use it, the pharmacist said it would help," Sam said, waiting till he was sure Dean was steady before he let go.
Dean looked suspiciously in the shower. "Baby vapor bath? Dude, come on tea lattes and baby vapor bath?"
"It'll help, grow up, Dean. I'll be right here if you need me."
"Sam, I'm fine." He closed the door and smiled, his brother had already laid out clean clothes on the counter for him. Ok, Sammy, I get it, you're worried. He tuned on the shower and let the bathroom fill with steam. Opening the baby wash he had to admit it smelled comforting. Like when we were kids and dad always doused us with Vicks and put us to bed. Still feel safe when I smell the stuff. He finally turned the water off and got out of the shower. He had been doing fine until he was dressed and bent down to pick up his towel. One second he had he towel in his hand, the next he was on the bed, a very anxious Sam sitting on the edge of the bed patting his hand.
"Learn that in a movie?" Dean said snatching his hand away.
"Always works for fainting women," Sam said smiling, Dean could see relief in his eyes.
"Sorry, won't do that again," he said smiling. How can just a shower exhaust me like that? He closed his eyes. He knew that Sam stayed sitting beside him a long time after he went to sleep.
The TV was still on when he woke up. Sam was sitting at the table, laptop open, eyes glued to the screen. Dean watched him for a minute. He looks like he hasn't slept. Wow, my head is killing me, and my chest hurts. I know it is only two doses of antibiotics, but shouldn't I be feeling a little better? God, I'm freezing. I actually think I feel worse. "Hey."
"Dean?" Sam frowned, he came over to the bed and put his hand on Dean's forehead. "Dude, you're burning up. Good thing I got this last night." He shoved a thermometer under his tongue. It beeped, he looked at it and frowned. "Kind of high, 103.5." You look a little worried Sam, and I know that's more than a little high. I'm a little worried. I still hurt too, Sam and it's hard to breathe. I think I might be getting worse. Should I mention that right now? I'll wait, I'm just overreacting. I need to give the meds time to work.
Sam brought him some aspirin and a glass of juice and settled in on the bed beside him to watch TV. Thanks, Sammy, suddenly not feeling very good, nice to have you there. He leaned into the pillows a little more. His chest seemed to be hurting more and more the longer he laid there, and it was getting harder to breathe again. Sam looked over with a frown on his face. Sorry Sammy, something feels a little weird all of a sudden.
Sam reached over him and grabbed the inhaler from beside the bed. "It's ok, Dean. I think you're having a bit of an asthma attack." He handed Dean the inhaler. "I had a friend at Stanford who had it."
Dean nodded and took the dose and leaned back again. "Thanks. Can I uh…could you make me…"
"You want more chai, Dean?" Sam said, smiling and getting off the bed. He mixed it up and brought it over. "Not as bad as you thought?"
"Shut up, Sam," Dean said, smiling. Well, nice, my heart is pounding and my chest still hurts and I feel bad. Really, really bad. He watched The Simpsons with Sam but he was having a hard time concentrating. He felt Sam's cool hand on his head. "I'm ok," he pushed it away.
"You feel hot," Sam shoved the thermometer back under his tongue. "It hasn't gone down at all, I wonder if you need to go back to the hospital."
"No, I'm fine, give me more aspirin," Dean said, fighting the urge to cough.
"Dean, I'm not sure," his brother was frowning at him.
"Dude, I'm fine, just give me some aspirin and I am going back to sleep."
"Ok, but you need to take your antibiotics, too."
Dean grumbled, but did what he was told. I feel awful and it's kind of nice to have him fussing a little. Makes it a little better. I wonder if I should tell him I am really dizzy? No, I don't want to worry him, last night was not fun for him either.He sighed and tried to get comfortable. He drifted off to sleep to the sounds of Jeopardy.
He was pulled from his sleep when he started coughing. He looked over, Sam was sound asleep on top the bedspread next to him. He snagged the thermometer and slid out from under the covers and into the freezing room to get to the bathroom so he wouldn't wake Sam. I just need a drink of water to stop this coughing. He closed the door and took a little sip of water. He put the thermometer in his mouth and waited till it beeped. The sound was the double beep for over 99.5, he looked at it. Ok, I know 104 is bad. I should wake Sam, but maybe an aspirin will make it go away. He started coughing in earnest.And a nice gurgle-y wet cough. That doesn't sound good, and it really hurts. Not good. I can't breathe very well. Sam? Not doing very good. He covered his mouth with a towel, letting it catch whatever was ripping out of his lungs, hoping to keep the noise from waking Sam. God, it's cold. Well, no it's not I'm just really hot. I wish I could stop coughing, my chest is killing me. It's really getting hard to breathe again and my heart is pounding. What if they were wrong? What is there is something wrong with my heart? Sam? I think I might be in trouble.
He pulled the towel away from his face for a minute. "Sam?" Want to try for louder this time? "Sam?" That isn't loud enough to hear in here, let alone through the door. He tried to push himself up and dropped back down to the toilet. Sam?
The door was wrenched open, "Dean what is it?"
"I feel bad," he said, pulling the towel back in front of his mouth, still coughing. Crossing the beams bad, maybe.
"Dean," Sam said. He glanced over at his brother, Sam had the thermometer in his hand. Did I forget to turn that off? I didn't hear it beep to turn itself off either.
"What?" He pulled the towel away from his face.
"Oh my god, Dean," Sam said, his face white. Dean followed his brother's eyes down to the towel. Oh, blood, not good. Never good.
"I think I need to lie back down," he said forcing himself to his feet and walking out of the bathroom, trying to calm his breathing, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest. Sam? Not feeling good. Black spots suddenly swam in front of his eyes, he started coughing again, fighting for every breath, his knees gave way and he started to fall. Sam caught him, propping him up against his shoulder.
"Dean?"
"Sam, I don't feel good." It was now a fight for every breath, the little air causing a burning sensation in his chest. He grabbed for his brother's hand. "Sammy?" He said, he could hear the panic in his voice. He tried to breathe, leaning against Sam, clutching his brother's hand. Sam? Not feeling good, Sam. Not feeling good at all. The black spots were demanding his attention, he closed his eyes.
He heard Sam talking to someone. "Dizziness, he almost fainted just now, he's coughing up blood, his temp is 104.3, he seems to be having trouble breathing. Should I take him…?" Sam paused. "What! Really?" Sam sounded panicked. "Yeah, room 27, Viking Arms Motel." He hung up the phone. "Ambulance is on the way, Dean."
"No, I just need to go back to bed."
"No, Dean, this is bad, crossing the beams bad, and you are going back. End of statement."
Dean tried to relax, still holding on to his brother's hand. Actually I think going back might be a good idea Sammy.
This is bad.
To Be Continued