Disclaimer: refer to chapter one
NOTE TO READERS: Thank you to every reader that took the time to read and review the previous chapter. It's appreciated. I had some fantastic comments, thanks! I'm happy to hear that so many readers are enjoying this latest story. It's still my hope to end at chapter 10, but we'll see. I'm hopeful. I hope you enjoy this newest installment!
Side Note: Don't forget to watch "Bloodlust" tonight on the CW.
Chapter Eight
Detours of the Mind
By Dawn Nyberg
Two Days Later, Sam's Room
"What's that for?" Dean asked with an accusing tone as he watched Dr. Nish follow a technician in with a large bulky machine.
"It's a portable chest x-ray Dean," Dr. Nish replied.
"What the hell for?" Dean's voice was threatening. He'd started questioning every procedure and medication going into his brother after the events of two days prior. He blamed the doctors for a large amount of his brother's condition. He glanced at Sam whose chest continued to rise and fall mechanically. He hadn't moved or responded to any stimuli since lapsing into coma.
"When I examined him yesterday I didn't like the sound of his lungs, but today they sound worse, so I want an x-ray."
"What'd you do to him? His lungs were fine before all this crap." Dean stood up and protectively stood by Sam preventing the machine from advancing toward his brother.
"Dean, I understand your feelings…"
"Do you?" Dean hissed. The doctor put up a placating and apologetic hand.
"Okay, I don't. Wrong choice of words."
"Damn straight," Dean growled.
"But, Dean, the x-ray isn't going to hurt him, and I feel it really needs to be done … for your brother's sake." Dean cast anguished eyes toward his little brother and stepped aside to allow the test.
Thirty Minutes Later
Dean sat at his brother's bedside holding his hand and stroking his bangs gently. It reminded him of when they were little and Sam had trouble sleeping on nights their father was away on a hunt. He'd stroke Sam's forehead and bangs and he'd always drift off to sleep. He smiled at the warm memory. He glanced at the EEG monitor that Sam was always hooked up to as it measured and recorded his brain activity. It was quiet right now and had been for a couple days. He hadn't had another episode since everything had happened. Before they had said Sam was in an atypical coma with moments of extreme activity and then minimal activity more conclusive of a true coma. "Hey Sammy," Dean whispered softly. "How about you give your big brother a break and open those eyes of yours. How about it, huh?" He watched and waited, but there was no movement, no flutter … only the consistent beep of Sam's heart monitor and the persistent click and whoosh of the ventilator that breathed for him. "What's happening in your head?" He studied his brother's silent features. "Sammy, please…" his voice caught in his throat as hot tears stung his eyes.
The door opened and Dr. Nish came in hurriedly with and IV bag. "What are you doing?" Dean demanded.
"I'm starting Sam on a strong course of IV antibiotics," Dr. Nish answered as he hung the bag.
"For what?"
"His chest x-rays," the doctor began. "I thought I heard consolidations in both lungs, but I couldn't believe it developed so quickly…"
"What?" Dean demanded.
"Pneumonia," the doctor replied. "Sam has pneumonia. It's a pretty bad case, too. I've never seen it come on so quickly. His lungs were perfectly clear two days ago." Dean stood up abruptly as his mind processed what he was hearing. He looked at Sam with concerned eyes as a memory bloomed in his mind … a memory of Fitchburg a couple of years ago.
"Bacterial pneumonia," Dean's voice sounded detached as he continued to look at his little brother. Dr. Nish turned curious eyes to the older sibling.
"Yeah, how'd you know?" Dean turned and looked at the doctor with intense eyes.
"You're sure," he demanded.
"Yeah, the blood work from earlier confirmed it, but…" His words tapered off as he saw Dean head toward the door. "Where are you going?"
"I'll be back." Dean called out over his shoulder. He was headed for Dr. Winters office.
Ten Minutes Later, Dr. Winters Office
"A Shtriga, really? I've heard of them, but never encountered one. Nasty mothers, right? And, the children all presented with symptoms that mimicked bacterial pneumonia and all lapsed into comas and died?"
"Well, the ones from years before, yeah? But, I killed the bitch and the life forces returned to kids or something … I don't know," Dean rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. "All I know is they got better when it died."
"And, it fed off of Sam the night you killed it?"
"Yeah, it was feeding on him when I killed it. He was okay," Dean commented. "It's just with the pneumonia and the coma … do you think?" Dean's voice trailed off.
"Do I think that Sam could have relived another memory from his past like the strangulation? Well, it's as good a guess as any. And, it makes sense."
"But, he hasn't forgotten those memories, why relive them? He just doesn't remember past Manning."
"Dean … the mind is a complex thing and perhaps as he accesses memories that exist behind the wall he's built he's reliving other old ones he does remember, but they're broken, as well. Maybe, his mind is getting at the lost information by accessing visceral memories that are acting as catalysts to reaching the lost memories. Make sense?"
"I don't know," Dean looked at the doctor with a raised eyebrow. "Does it make sense to you?" Dr. Winters couldn't suppress the chuckle despite the seriousness of the situation. He suppressed his chuckle quickly.
"Yeah, well, your brother's case as I've said before is rather unique."
"But, Sammy's getting sicker. The kids from before … they got sicker, weaker, and died in comas."
"Dean, talk to him and try to reach him. I think you're the only one who can. We'll handle the life support aspect of his condition. Talk to him. You saved him from the Shtriga before … make him hear you."
Three Hours Later, Sam's Room
Dean sat watching his brother. Sam had continued to deteriorate over the last couple hours. His vitals had become more unstable and it seemed to Dean that he had very little alone time with his little brother. Medical personnel were coming in every few minutes or so to check monitors, adjust drip rates, and take Sam's vitals. Dean watched everything the nurse did while in the room. His eyes followed her silently around Sam's bed. She met his eyes once and offered a small smile. He simply nodded. He watched her leave the room and finally he hoped he'd have some time with his brother before there was another intrusion.
"Sammy? Can you hear me?" Dean reached up and stroked his forehead. "You feel that Sammy? I need you to hear me little brother. You have to fight this kiddo," he urged. "What you think is happening or happened, whatever," he let out a frustrated sigh. "It didn't okay? You just have to realize that you can come back from this … that you can fight. Sammy, I was there … remember? I killed that life sucking bitch. Sammy," his voice was pleading.
…Sammy…
The voice settled over him like a soft summer breeze and it soothed him. The darkness had embraced him and he had found it eerily comforting. The voices of the empty house were silent and the images gone. There was peace here and allowing it to embrace him felt right. Sam Winchester listened, but the voice was gone and maybe letting the oblivion consume him was right, was good … there was peace on the other side he was sure of it.
Dean looked at his brother's heart rate and could see it had dropped. "Dammit," he hissed. "You fight damn you. I'm not losin' you too. I can't …" his voice stammered. "I can't Sammy. Come on, please… Sammy." His voice cracked with the sheer emotion of the moment. Sam was slipping and he didn't know how to hold on to him. "Sammy, No!" His voice was commanding. "Please."
…Sammy …No …Please…
There was the voice again and he knew it was his brother. He focused completely on it and suddenly the darkness wasn't so complete and he edged toward a pale glow in the distance of his endless void.
Dean looked nervously at the heart monitor and watched 52 suddenly climb to 60 and remain there. He smiled. "Sammy? I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, okay? Please, keep fighting. You're not alone." He held his brother's cool limp hand in his own as he stroked the thin white scar with his thumb.
…Sammy… I'm here… you're not alone…
Sam found himself back in the house curled in a corner. The book was only inches from his fingertips and he reached out for it. He looked around confused at the sudden change of absolute nothingness to the same white-gray walls he knew too well. He pulled himself up and opened the book. He traced his finger as he always did … over and over the single word brother and it calmed him.
…I'll summon her … she'll come after me…
…you know what? … That's it…
The voices filtered down the hallway and something was familiar. He walked to a closed door and pushed it open. He found himself standing in a dark room lit only by the dim light coming from street lamps through the store window. He was facing a mirror and looking at himself, but his reflection looked defiant and its eyes began to bleed.
…You left her alone to die …you dreamed it would it happen…
A crushing pain filled Sam's head and flared across his chest. He clutched at it as he dropped to his knees as the voice repeated its tirade.
…You left her alone to die… you dreamed it would happen…
Dean noticed Sam's EEG monitor had begun to flash and seconds later Dr. Neff ran into the room. "What's happening?"
"His brain activity is through the roof," the doctor replied. Other alarms began to sound. "What the hell?" The doctor shouted as he saw blood begin to run from the corners of Sam's eyes. Blood tears. And, it was quickly followed by thick streams coming from his nose. "Jesus!"
"Sammy!" Dean yelled. "Sam it's not real." He recognized this and he felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest. His memory of Bloody Mary was like a white hot poker in his brain. "Sammy!"
Medical staff poured into the room and Dean moved to a corner, but refused to leave. "He needs an MRI stat," he shouted. "Sonofabitch! Get him off the vent and start bagging him we gotta hustle people. He may be having a massive hemorrhage. I gotta see what's happening in his head." Additional alarms began to sound. They scooted out Sam's bed so they could have complete access at all angles. "Dammit we're losing him, he's crashing," Dr. Nish shouted.
Dean stared at the scene as staff began to work feverishly to save his brother's life. He watched them injecting drugs and listened to alarms ringing and buzzing. He pushed himself off the wall and pushed a nurse aside. He grabbed Sam's face avoiding the tube protruding out of his brother's mouth. A nurse stared wide-eyed at Dean as she continued to squeeze the bag delivering breaths to his brother. "Sammy! Don't do this! It's not real" he shouted.
"Dean, get away!" Dr. Nish bellowed. "We have to work," he yelled. Dean looked quickly at the doctor and all the doctor saw were wild, feral eyes of a sibling on the edge.
"Sammy! She's not real. You're okay." Dean felt strong hands pull at him to try and remove him from his brother. He jerked and threw an elbow back and felt it connect with flesh and heard a muffled 'oof'. He didn't care. He had to fight for Sammy and he had to do it now. "Sam! Let it go! It's over. Sammy!"
…Sammy … it's not real…let it go…
The voice of his brother broke through the pain and stopped his decent into the waiting darkness. The pain began to recede and before he closed his eyes he realized he was out of the room with mirrors and curled on the floor once again. He dropped his head on the floor and let sleep claim him.
The room fell into silence for a moment. The alarms stopped sounding and reverted back to there normal beeping and chirping. The only other sound was the whoosh of squeezed air from the ambu bag as the nurse continued to deliver breaths to Sam while off the ventilator. Dean stared at his brother's face with his hands still firmly on each cheek. "Dean," the voice was hesitant yet gentle. The young man finally broke eye contact with his brother's silent features and looked into the eyes of Dr. Winters. He could see the man's lip was bleeding and realized the physician's face must have been the contact point of his elbow. "Dean, you need to let go of him. They have to do an MRI to see if he's okay. Let Dr. Nish have him. He's stabilized for now Dean. But, you need to let him go." Dean stared at the man as he tried to hear the words. His voice sounded like he was speaking inside a metal barrel.
He felt in a fog as he released his hold on Sam's face and watched him placed on a trauma gurney and taken from the room followed by staff and IV poles. He felt himself guided gently toward a chair, but before he could take more than two steps he felt the world drop out from under him and his world spot around the edges and right before his world closed out completely, he heard Dr. Winters voice spike in urgency, "Dean!" and the welcoming darkness came.
To Be Continued
Well, what did you think? Are you still enjoying the story? I hope you liked this chapter. Again, thanks to every reader that has taken the time to review one or all chapters they've read so far! And, thank you for reading. I'll update again next week. Thanks again!
