A/N: Huge apologies on the agonizing wait. I've been without my laptop for over a month due to waiting for a stupid back-ordered part from freaking Timbuktu or some crap. I've got a cooling fan on under it right now and can use it in ten minute sessions at a time, so I'm gonna see what I can do right now and sneak post it asap. Enjoy! And hopefully I'll have it back to fully functional soon so I can finish this!
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Dean had lost consciousness after that moment, his hand loosening its grip on Sam's. And Sam had sunk down into a chair beside the bed, doing his best to hold in the bubbling feelings of anguish and guilt. Dean could've died. He got sick when he came looking for him, and he got bad because Sam waited to take him to the hospital. It was his fault.
But he didn't have time to wallow in the overwhelming guilt that threatened to shake him with sobs that screamed to break through. No. He had to suck it up and be here for Dean. He needed to help him to get better.
It was a couple of hours before the nurse's routine administrations at his bedside woke him from what seemed to be a sort of peaceful sleep. Sam had been silent and curled as much as possible into the chair to keep out of the way. Until he heard the telltale groan that Dean had begun the slow slip from unconsciousness. Then Sam was at the edge of his seat, ready for...well, whatever Dean might need him for. What he didn't realize is that he'd also enveloped one of Dean's hands into both of his own.
Dean's body began, what looked like, spasming, and Sam was suddenly on his feet and freaking.
"Let's sit him up," the nurse told Sam, semi-calmly, which Sam picked up on right away that she'd been using her training not to show panic.
"What's happening to him?" Sam asked as he assisted in sitting Dean upright. But she didn't have to answer as Dean was able in this position to properly expel some of the fluid build-up from his lungs. The coughing was deep and productive, and even though Sam knew that it was necessary and good, the struggle in Dean's features pulled achingly at Sam's heart. He wished he could trade places with him...
But it wasn't until Dean was finished with the bout of coughing, that Sam had to fight tears. The nurse pulled away the basin that Dean had brought up the fluid into, and left Sam to support him remaining upright as she took it away. And Dean coughed one last time and drew in a painful breath, groaning pitifully, face pinched in agony as he gripped his aching chest.
"Dean?" Sam held onto him and moved to sit on the edge of the bed to get a better look at his brother's face.
Dean opened his red eyes and looked at his brother, groaning again, though he tried his damnedest not to. "Hurts," he told him, then took in another shaky breath. "Hurts to...cough. My chest...on fire, dude..."
"I'm sorry," Sam's face pinched, momentarily, and then he slipped his game face back on and helped Dean to lay back down on the raised head of the bed. He placed a hand on Dean's chest. "I'll see if there's something they can do; something they can give you."
"Sam?" Dean rasped. "Can I...have a drink of water? Mouth is dry." The pauses for breaths between words was a testament to the amount of pain he was in.
"Yeah, uh..." Sam glanced around, looking for the water they'd brought in for him earlier. The nurse returned, then, with a clean basin. Sam looked to her, "Can he have some water?"
"Sure, honey," she replied. "Slow sips through a straw. Don't need you choking and starting another coughing spell, no do we?" she gave Dean a shy smile.
"He's in pain," Sam told her. "His chest, from the coughing. Is there something you can give him?"
"I'll see what we have," she told him. "The doctor might be able to give him some meds for some of the pain, but what he needs is a brace, or something to hold onto to support the ribcage. We did have some braces, but had to dispose of them after they became contaminated. What we can do is get some blankets and roll them up. All he's gotta to is hold them against his chest as he coughs, and it should help cushion and absorb a lot of the impact from the movements and help stop it from feeling worse."
Sam nodded in acknowledgment as he held the cup of water and led the straw to Dean's lips. Dean took a few small sips and indicated that he was done. After a few breaths, and Sam setting the cup down on the side table, Dean looked up at him. "No more...arctic hunting..." That got a tiny side-long smirk out of Sam, but Dean could see the sadness behind it. The guilt. He remembered what Sam had said before he'd passed out, earlier. "Dude," Dean gave Sam's hand a squeeze, making the younger brother realize he was holding his hand again without having known until now. "This ain't your fault." Sam's brows pinched, and he fought to keep the emotion off of his face. "Seriously, little bro. I don't...blame you. So you...can't either, okay?"
Sam fought to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, as a thousand reasons why it was his fault flashed through his mind.
"Hey!" Dean did his best to raise his voice, which caused him to start coughing again. "I...mean it..." he said between coughs.
"Damnit, Dean," Sam attempted rubbing his brother's chest to comfort him through the smaller spell. "Just...just worry about getting better, okay? This isn't about me."
"Always gonna...worry about you...Sammy."
"Yeah well don't," Sam retorted. "Concentrate on getting through this, and you can worry later."
"Geez, man, you act like I could die or somethin'," he shrugged.
Sam's face flitted with a series of expressions Dean was able to translate immediately. "You could have," Sam told him. "If I'd waited much longer to bring you in, you could've died."
Dean's brows pinched in thought, as he looked somewhere in the air between them for a moment. "Well," he met Sam's eyes again as his face relaxed, "You got me here in time. Hell, you'd have got me...here before that if I hadn't...been a stubborn ass. You can blame Dad for that. Got it..from him, you know," he gave him another small smile.
"Bet you're glad I fought him, now, aren't you," Sam smiled back.
"Hey...you're stubborn too. Just about different...stuff. Some the same, I guess."
"Your fault."
"Probably," Dean replied, lids growing heavy.
"Go to sleep, Dean."
"Make me."
"Stubborn ass," Sam smiled and shook his head as Dean's eyes closed.
TBC...
