Back again guys! Chapter 4 finished and ready to go. Thanks again to everyone who read and reviewed my story, or added it to favourites. It's made me very happy! for those whose reviews I didn't respond to it's because I can't lol! But you're remarks are very much appreciated and I thank you for taking the time to read and review XD As a reward, I have updated very quickly! :D
Enjoy! Oh, and the Dean we know is returning, yay!
Dean woke up due to a call of nature, most likely due to the beers he had consumed at dinner. Darn it! For once, I was having a good sleep! Dean groaned and got out of bed. He looked over to the clock – 02.33. Too early for breakfast, so Dean would have to try and fall asleep again, something he was never brilliant at doing.
Once he had taken care of business, he crept back to his own room. As he tip-toed past Sam's room, he heard a strange noise almost like a whimper. Kid must be having a nightmare, Dean thought. He wondered whether or not he should go in and wake him up. Once he's awake, Dean figured it may have been a good time for his long overdue apology. So what if it's the middle of the night? Besides, a talk would certainly take Sam's mind off of his nightmare, which he assumed were extremely horrific and terrifying. Not like Sam would ever talk about them. Dean quietly turned the door handle and entered Sam's room. He walked over to the bed and stretched his arm out to shake him awake. To his surprise, his hand hit the mattress. The Sasquatch brother was nowhere to be seen. Dean heard another whimper, and realised it was coming from the bathroom.
"Sam?" he questioned, walking towards the tiny room. He flicked the switch and pushed the door open, and was instantly hit with the foul stench of vomit. He scrunched his face and took a hitched breath at the smell, but quickly returned to normal when his mind clicked to the one worrying thought – Sam was sick. His eyes were drawn to the slumped form of his baby brother, head positioned over the toilet. Sam's own eyes were closed tightly and he was breathing deeply. It appeared that he hadn't notice Dean's entrance. Dean crouched down next to his brother and placed a hand on his arm. He was astonished at the heat radiating off his skin.
"Sammy? Can you hear me?" his brother was unresponsive at his touch and he wondered if he had passed out. Fortunately, Sam gradually opened his eyes and glared at Dean.
"N?" he moaned – Sam's sick talk for Dean.
"Yeah buddy. How you feeling? Here let's get rid of that mess." Dean stretched over his sibling and flushed the toilet.
"S'k." Sam mumbled through clenched teeth, struggling with yet another wave of nausea.
Dean nodded and placed the palm of his hand on Sam's forehead. The fever was worrying enough, but the fact that Sam leaned into Dean's touch was even more concerning. These days, whenever Dean tried to help Sam after an injury or when he was ill, he would resist, thinking he could handle it himself. He would only let Dean touch him when he was really sick or badly hurt, and that was rare.
"Yeah, and you have a really bad fever. I'm gonna need to cool you down. Just wait a minute and I'll get Bobby to help out." Dean was about to get up when Sam whimpered again, meaning that he didn't want Dean to leave him. Another worrying sign. Dean thought for a moment and then an idea hit him. He saw Sam's cell on the coffee table next to the bathroom door, so he quickly crawled over and grabbed it, returning to Sam's side within seconds. He opened the phone and dialled Bobby's number.
After a few rings, Bobby answered. "Singer," he yawned.
"Hey Bobby, it's Dean."
"What? Couldn't you just come downstairs?"
"I would have, but Sam's sick and I don't want to leave him alone. Listen, he has a really high fever. Could you bring me a wash cloth and a bucket of ice water?"
"Right." Bobby answered instantly and hung up. Dean then heard movement from downstairs and knew Bobby was getting to work.
"Ok Sam, I need to try and figure out what's making you sick. I doubt it's food poisoning as Bobby and I ate the chilli and we're Ok." Dean thought for a moment, and then an idea hit him. "Hey, when you fell earlier today, did you injure yourself?" Sam nodded and pointed to his side.
"Cl'n th." Dean translated that is I cleaned the wound though.
"I'm just gonna take a look at it anyway Ok?" Dean slowly lifted his brother's shirt and saw immediately where the metal had cut into his side. There was a dark crust of blood surrounded by swollen, red and hot skin. He gently touched the site and green puss oozed from the cut. Sam let out a cry of pain, but the motion caused him to vomit again. Dean immediately removed his hand from the cut and rubbed Sam's back.
"It's Ok, relax. Sorry about that. I'm afraid that cut is infected. We're gonna need to get you to a doctor."
"An infection? Crap!" Dean heard Bobby shout from behind him.
"Yeah, it looks bad. I'll get him cooler then we can drive him to the hospital. Thanks," he took the washcloth and bucket from Bobby and soaked the cloth in the cool water. He placed it on the back of Sam's neck as the young hunter coughed and spat into the toilet. Dean gently pushed Sam back to an upright position when he was finished being sick, and wiped the cloth over his head. He then cleaned his brother's face which had been sprayed with flecks of vomit. He dunked the cloth back in the ice water and continued to wash Sam's face and upper body, trying to remove some of the heat.
"Ok, we'll take this with us on the way to hospital. Do you want to try taking some water? You must be getting dehydrated by now. When did you start being sick?" Sam held up 2 fingers. "Be about 45 minutes now. You definitely need some water. Hey Bobby could you –"
"Brought up a glass anyway," Bobby handed Dean a glass of water. Dean muttered a thanks, and then put the glass in Sam's shaky hand. He helped him raise the glass to his mouth and Sam took a few tentative sips. A couple of minutes went by and he had managed to keep the liquid down.
"Good work Sammy. Now let's try and stand you up. We should go asap. Don't worry I'll help." Dean stood up from a sitting position and placed his hands under his brother's arms.
"Ok Sam, on the count of three, stand. One… Two… Three!" Dean lifted as Sam pushed himself off the ground. But the movement left Sam in an extreme amount of pain, and he felt sick again.
"It's Ok Sam, just breathe. Let's get you out of here." Sam wasn't moving though. He was shaking his head and trying to move, but Dean kept him still.
"Hey, calm down. Keep still. What is it?" Sam was groaning and frantically trying to move. Bobby suddenly clicked, "Dean! Move him back quick!"
"Huh? What do you –" Too late. Sam opened his mouth and threw up all over himself – and Dean. The surprise caused Dean to let go of his brother, and Sam fell back to the floor, still vomiting everywhere.
"Shit! Sam I'm sorry, are you Ok?" Dean was back down at his brother's side and held him, rubbing his back. By now Sam was in utter agony, and tears were streaming down his face. He gave another few whimpers.
"It's Ok, shhh. Let's not do that again. Bobby, I think we might need an ambulance, Sam can't be moved easily. Can you call for one? And maybe bring us a couple of clean shirts?"
"Sure Dean." Bobby left the brothers alone while he called 911. Dean continued to hold Sam until he finally calmed down. He pulled back and looked up at Dean with wet, puppy eyes.
"S'ry," he groaned. "Tried to move."
Dean let out a sympathetic laugh. "Forget about it Sam, it can't be helped, it was my fault. And let's face it, I totally deserved it!" Sam just looked at him blankly. How did you deserve it? The look said.
Dean understood. "I was well out of line earlier. Upset or not, I had no right to talk to you like that. I honestly didn't mean a word of it, I just wanted to hurt you. Stupid I know. I was a complete bastard, and I think being puked on is a mild punishment. I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?" He half expected Sam to get annoyed and shake his head. He didn't deserve Sam's forgiveness, what he did was unacceptable. But to his surprise, Sam gave him a small smile and nodded.
"Thought you hated me," he whispered.
"No! Of course I don't! I'm so sorry I made you think that. I –" His apology was stopped as Sam screamed. Not just groaned in pain – he literally screamed. He wrapped his arms around his middle and fresh tears made their way down his face.
"D'n!" he cried out automatically. Dean, help!
"Sam! What is it?" Dean once again had a firm hold on his brother, trying to keep him calm.
"H'rts…" Sam groaned. Cramps. His side was getting worse.
"I know, just hang in there. There's an ambulance on the way, you'll be all right. Deep breaths now; come on, breath with me. In…. out….. in … out….. that's it….. in …..out…." Dean could feel Sam's tension subsiding as the two brothers took deep breaths together.
"What's happening? Is everything all right?" Bobby ran into the room when he heard Sam screaming.
"We're good here Bobby, Sam just got a cramp, he's Ok." Dean wasn't sure which of the three men he was trying to reassure. He knew the infection must be serious and the longer Sam went without antibiotics, the worse he would get. Sepsis could set in any second now, and that's what petrified Dean. He couldn't voice his fears though, as Dean panicking would make Sam panic, and that wasn't what Sam needed. Like I have noticed Sam's needs lately. If I hadn't been such a selfish prick in the first place, I could have had that wound disinfected much sooner, before infection could set in.
"Well the ambulance should be here in a few minutes. I gotcha some clean clothes." He handed Dean a couple of clean shirts.
"Sam, you good? Shall we get you into a new shirt? Never know, there might be a hot paramedic, need to look nice for her!" Dean smiled down at his brother, hoping that humour will settle his nerves. Sam glanced back at Dean and nodded. Dean carefully leaned his brother back against the bath. He reached for the washcloth and cleaned Sam's face again, before helping him out of his soiled shirt.
"Arms up Sammy!" Sam gradually lifted up his arms and Dean slipped the sweat drenched, vomit covered item over his head. Bobby noted how expertly Dean dressed his brother – then again, Dean had practically raised the boy ever since the day Mary died. John was a good man and he doted on his sons, but he wasn't the most attentive of fathers, particularly towards Sam. Nothing personal towards his youngest, but sometimes John would prioritise revenge over parenting.
"All done! I think I'll quickly change myself!" Dean was pretending to be chirpy and talking to Sam like he was a small child, as it seemed to help comfort Sam whenever he was sick. Dean threw his own soiled shirt into the sink along with Sam's, and slid on the replacement. Bobby had also brought him a pair of jeans to change into, so he cleaned Sam's vomit from his leg and slipped on the jeans.
"Wonderful!" Dean exclaimed. He returned to his little brother's side. "How you doing there, kiddo?"
Sam shook his head. I feel like Hell.
Again, Dean understood. "Don't worry, the paramedics will be here soon. In fact… I think I hear sirens." Sure enough, there was the faint sound of sirens in the distance. Bobby was amazed at Dean's hearing abilities. He reckoned it must have happened as he developed as a hunter.
"I'll go and meet then and show them in," said Bobby. "Dean, stay here and take care of him."
"Planning to," replied Dean. As Bobby left to greet the paramedics, Dean slung his arm around Sam's shoulders and rubbed his hand up and down the arm. Sam's head flopped over onto Dean's shoulder. He was trembling and sobbing in pain. But he felt a sense of relief that Dean was there. He even began to believe that Dean didn't really mean the harsh words from before, but a part of him still wondered if Dean's apology was genuine. Yet here he was, comforting him through the pain. He has to be genuine. I couldn't handle it otherwise. As he thought, he failed to notice that he was idly pawing at his brother, as though convincing himself that Dean really was there. I'll make it up to you, I swear."
Dean heard footsteps coming up the stairs. "They're in there, in the en-suite," he heard Bobby say, concern apparent in his voice. Dean had never really appreciated before how much he and Sam meant to the old guy, and how well he took care of them, now and when their father couldn't. He would have to thank Bobby for that, but right now Sammy's health was his number one priority.
"Hi boys," a pretty young paramedic walked into the room.
"Hey Sam, told you!" Dean nudged his brother.
The woman looked confused, but shook off Dean's comment and crouched in front of Sam.
"You must be Sam. My name is Suzie. Can you tell me how you're feeling?"
"S'k, cr'mps." Sam muttered. Suzie didn't understand so looked at Dean.
"He's been sick several times and has cramps. I think he has an infected cut in his side."
"Ok, can I take a look?" Dean moved out of her way while still maintaining some contact with Sam. Suzie cautiously lifted Sam's shirt and felt the wound. Sam moaned and gagged in response, but managed not to throw up on her.
"He must like you, he puked all over me when I tried that," Dean joked. Sam just glared, attempting the bitch face.
"When was he last sick?" She asked Dean, ignoring his comment.
"Whenever Bobby called the ambulance; maybe about 15 minutes ago?"
"Ok. I'm just going to take your temperature Sammy."
"S'm." Sam stated in response. Again, Suzie looked to Dean for an explanation.
Dean chuckled. "He doesn't like to be called Sammy. 'Fraid only I get the privilege of that nickname. Don't be offended, it's an automatic response."
"Right, sorry Sam." Bewildered at the man's offense at a name, she inserted the thermometer into Sam's ear. Once it beeped, she looked at the screen.
"Damn, 103. We better get him to hospital now. Dominic! Graham! Bring in the stretcher! Ok Sam, your brother and I are going to move you onto the stretcher, then you just lie down and relax. My colleagues will carry you outside to the ambulance. You Ok to do that Dean?"
"Definitely. Can I ride with him in the ambulance?"
"Of course, but I'm afraid your friend Bobby will need to follow behind in a car, we can't afford to crowd the van."
"No worries, I'll follow." Bobby stated. The other two paramedics had placed the stretcher onto the bathroom floor next to Sam, and Dean helped him to move onto it. Suzie didn't have to do much, but she offered support if it was required. Once Sam was settled onto the stretcher, the two men raised him from the floor and quickly but carefully took him to the ambulance. Dean never once let go of his brother's hand and walked outside. As Suzie prepared to leave, she spotted the bucket of ice water on the floor with the washcloth dangling on the edge. Thinking it could be useful and it would give a clearly worried Dean something to do, she picked it up along with her case and ran after the men.
After loading Sam into the back of the ambulance, Graham hurried to the front, turned on the siren and pulled out of Bobby's scrap yard. Bobby was already waiting in his own car and hastily followed the ambulance. Meanwhile, Suzie had gotten Dean to cool Sam down with the cool water while she and Dominic took his vitals.
"His blood pressure is very low, I don't like the look of this," she muttered to her colleague. "Hey Dean, do you think we can take Sam's shirt off, so I can listen to his heart?"
"Sure," he replied and gently pulled the shirt off of his now dazed brother. Suzie was immediately drawn to a peculiar rash that had developed on his torso.
"How long has he had that rash?" Confused, Dean looked down at his brother's skin.
"That's weird," he exclaimed. "When he was last sick he threw up all over himself so I helped him change. I looked over his body just to make sure he had no other injuries, and the rash definitely wasn't there before."
Suzie looked at Dominic, who nodded in agreement. "Shit!" they both yelled. "Graham! Floor it!" Suzie rummaged through her bag and pulled out a syringe.
"Can someone tell me what's going on? What's with the rash? What's in the syringe?" Dean questioned, panic finally taking over. If the paramedics were worried, then Dean was terrified.
"It's penicillin," Suzie responded as she injected the liquid into a vein on Sam's arm. "I may be wrong, but I think he's septic."