BETA: - Medical Thingy+Vonnie= AWESOME
Disclaimer: - The song is not mine, but "Sam" is mine, mine and mine. Huh!!
A/N:-Wow…wow and WOW… 'm stunned to see how many reviews my story had received for the previous chapter. A huge 'THANK YOU' to all. You know I love you friends.
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WHITE LIGHT
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The
road is long
With
many a winding turn
That
leads us to who knows where
Who
knows when
But
I'm strong
Strong
enough to carry him
He
ain't heavy, he's my brother.
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Dean screamed in horror as he noticed his brother wasn't breathing. "Oh God, Oh my God, Sammy…" Dean cried and placed his brother on the ground. He was shaking in fear of loosing his little brother. After everything they had suffered, he couldn't loose his little brother, his Sammy. Tears were spilling from his eyes but he knew he had to do hurry. He had to make Sam breathe. He laid Sam flat on his back and tilted his head, so he could breathe into him properly. Bobby quickly took position beside Sam and placed his both palms crisscrossed on Sam's heart, "Dean, start giving him breaths, I'll start compression." Dean quickly nodded in anticipation and pinched Sam's nose. He forced Sam's unresponsive mouth open and placed his mouth on his, giving him two quick breaths. He watched as Sam's chest rose and fell with each life saving breath he had been given then checked for a pulse. Wiping his tears when he found none, he gave the signal, at which Bobby immediately started compressions. Dean could hear Bobby muttering, "one…two…three…." Dean looked again at his unresponsive brother and his eyes burned again by hot tears. God, Sammy was looking so pale, so dead like. 'No no no no no, Sammy can't be dead. Not after everything…' Dean screamed in his head and brushed a hand over Sam's clammy forehead. "…nine…ten…eleven…" Dean placed a shaking hand over Sam's carotid artery and felt his pulse was beating, but only with the rhythm of the compressions. He jolted back as he heard Bobby muttered 'thirty' and again blew two breaths into Sam's mouth, yet still the kid wasn't breathing on his own. He continued to lie there like a broken rag doll and didn't respond to anything in the living world.
"Bobby…" Dean cried, "…Sammy still isn't breathing Bobby. He's still not breathing. What're we gonna do Bobby." Dean was crying like a small boy. He didn't care if Bobby saw him crying, the 'super-macho Dean Winchester' was crying desperately; not when his little brother's life was hanging in a thread.
"Don't give up on our Sam, Dean. Keep trying…" Bobby yelled, all the while continuing compressions.
Dean looked at his watch; it's been almost two minutes Sam took a breath. Dean looked at him again and his heart broke again with immense pain; a pain of fear, fear of loosing his brother. Oh God. Sammy was lying there helplessly; mouth parted open slightly, eyes hidden under its lids; his hands were jerking slightly with the compression Bobby was giving. His pink lips were forming a hue of light blue as well as his eyelids and fingertips from the lack of oxygen. "Please Sammy, c'mon. Don't do this to me little brother; don't you do this to me. Please, please, please, come back to me, Sammy! Sammy, please." Dean was begging his heart out. He leaned closed to his brother's mouth, hoping to have to hear something, anything. "Nooo, please…" He cried, "Please, God…"
"Dean, breathe for him."
Dean gave him another two breaths, but it was taking so long. Dean knew if it continued any longer, Sammy wouldn't survive. He would be brain dead, hell; he would be dead, period. He gritted his teeth and punched on the ground in frustration. Suddenly he shoved Bobby hard from his position and took his place.
"What the hell?" Bobby muttered as he was thrust away by Dean and fell on his bottom, until he saw Dean took his position and started compression. Pressing his lips together tight, he nodded in satisfaction. Now Sam had to come back. Sam had to at any cost.
Dean pushed his palms down firmly on Sam's chest and counted, "Don't you dare…two…three…leave us you little b*tch…six…seven…" he pressed harder, "…mom came for you…nine…ten…she came for you and now you're giving up…thirteen…fourteen…fifteen…come back…right now… or I…will kick…your butt…twenty one…twenty two…twenty three…damn it Sammy…I order you…to open…your eyes…right now…and breath…thirty" Again he gave him a breath and gasped, "…for mom Sammy…" he punched hard on his chest again, "…come back…you bastard…five…six…fight Sammy…God damn it FIGHT!"
Without warning Sam's back arched up and he heaved in a large gulp of air. Dean scrambled to pick his upper body up and pull his brother against his chest, "Oh thank God, thank God…" He heard Sam was taking in painfully small rugged breaths, but it sounded better than nothing to Dean. Sammy was breathing without help; those gasping sounds filled Dean's ears like it was most beautiful song he ever heard. He pressed one deep kiss on his brother's forehead and murmured, "Thank you God, thank you so much." He began to rock his brother, a gesture he always used, when he was scared for Sammy. Whenever Sammy got sick or hurt, he always rocked him, more to console himself then his sibling.
He looked at his brother's face again. Sam remained unconscious. His head was resting on Dean's chest and he was taking shallow harsh breath. His lips no longer showed the horrible shade of blue, yet there was still a faint tint of cyanosis to them. Dean carded his hands over and over through his brother's thick chocolate brown mop and inhaled his brother's scent, Sammy's scent; Dean smiled. His brother always smelled sweet, like his mother. Didn't matter if he got into dirty places, crappy motel rooms, chip commodities, he always smelled good. Sam was his mother's shadow; Dean chuckled at the thought, "I knew, you're a girl, Sammy," he mumbled and buried his nose into Sam's hair.
Dean startled as Bobby's heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up and met his friend's calm eyes. He smiled tightly, "He's alive Bobby …Sammy is alive. He didn't leave me." Tears of happiness were still flowing from his eyes, landing on Sam's forehead.
"I know Dean; I knew he wouldn't leave you." Bobby placed a hand over Sam's chest and looked upward, like he was thanking to God for giving them back their precious child. He collected himself and said, "But we have to take him to the hospital, Dean. We can't delay any longer, or we could risk his life."
"Yeah, I know." Dean nodded and repositioned himself for the next difficult step. Sammy was bleeding from his nose, so a fireman carry was out of question. Instead he placed Sam's right hand over his shoulder and adjusted him to his chest. He then snaked his left arm behind Sam's back and put another under his knees. Then with a soft grunt he heaved his brother up from the ground staggering slightly backward.
Bobby rose up quickly and supported his young friend as he staggered with his heavy burden. He couldn't risk Sam falling to the ground. The last thing the kid needed was a head injury on top of what he already suffered. He knew that Sam had lost a good amount of weight, yet still he wasn't feather light. With his height and figure, it was slightly difficult to carry him bridal style. He clamped a hand on Dean's shoulder and said, "Dean, let me help you carry your brother."
Dean looked at him with incredible sadness in his teary eyes and then glanced back at his unconscious sibling. He swallowed as his voice broke, "He ain't heavy, he's my Brother…Bobby."
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For a couple of seconds Bobby stared at Dean then pinched the bridge of his nose to wipe a tear away, which was forming in his eyes. 'God, this boy's sure gonna turn me into an emo b*tch' he thought and chuckled. He knew once Dean settled his mind on something, he wouldn't let anybody talk him out of it and it was even more impossible, when it involved his little brother. So he quickly nodded, "Kay then, you go and put him in the car, I'm coming after you. I just have to pick up the things we left here."
"Okay." Dean nodded and started to walk to where the car was parked. It was five or six minutes walking distance; they had to park the car this far away because they didn't want to warn the demon that they were coming. He clutched his senseless brother tightly to his chest and quickened his pace. Sammy was hanging limply between his hands; head lolling with each jolt, his hand swaying lightly as Dean carried him as quick as he could. Dean chocked a sob back at the sight of his seriously ill brother, God; this was all his fault. If it wasn't for his selfishness, his so called f****** grief, Sammy wouldn't have made this drastic decision. He wouldn't be this hurt right now. They would be at home by now, swigging beer, playing pool, cracking jokes…Dean bit his lips hard as a cry started to bubble up inside throat…if their mother hadn't showed up in time, Sam would have died by now. Dean shook his head again and blinked back his tears. He took a deep breath as he watched Bobby jog up and join him with their equipment. They could see the car parked haphazardly in the middle of the road, front doors wide open. Bobby went to the car and opened the back door, before Dean lowered an unconscious Sam and with his help gently laid him on the leather seats. Bobby quickly placed a blanket on Sam's violently shivering form as Dean bent his long legs to fit the seat. "Bobby, start the car," he almost ordered, at the same time as he positioned himself on the footboard and placed his hand on his brother's chest so he wouldn't fall off.
Bobby quickly closed the back door and got into the driver's seat. He revved the car and headed towards the exit of this no man's land. They had to reach the hospital as quickly as possible. He could hear Sam's breathing was getting more labored, as there was a gap of over three seconds in between each of his respirations. He looked at the rear-view mirror and saw Dean was continuously soothing his brother, begging him to wake up. But Sam wasn't responding to anything, he only persisted to shiver and wheeze horribly.
"Bobby, how far are we from hospital?" Dean's fear filled voice startled him.
"About thirty five minutes or so. I'm taking the shot-cut. Why?" Bobby asked without averting his eyes from the road.
"His fever is back with full rage Bobby." Dean's voice was trembling, "He is burning up…OH MY GOD SAM…"
Dean's horror filled screams chilled Bobby's blood as he slammed the break of the car. The car stopped abruptly and he screwed his head towards backseat. His eyes widened in horror as he saw Sam was gasping severely. He was chocking and a terrified wheezing sound was coming from his congested throat.
"Sam, Sammy it's okay. Calm down buddy…" Dean tried to calm his him down as he massaged his brother's chest lightly. Sam's back was arching up painfully as he was taking each wheezing breath. His face becoming redder from the extreme exertion and lips once again turning blue, "Bobby, what's happening to him?"
"Looks like he's having an asthma attack." Bobby barked and scrambled out through the driver's door. He wrenched opened the back door and cried, "Place him upright so he can breathe easily."
Dean already put his hands under Sam's armpit and heaved him upward into a sitting position. Sliding into the seat beside him, he let the younger man's head gently rest against his own. He watched Sam's chest rise and fall at a constantly increasing pace, as the chocking sounds were getting more severe. "What we gonna do Bobby? He is chocking, he's not gonna make it that far if he can't breathe." Dean cried miserably as he continued to rub Sam's chest. The blue hue of Sam's lips and eyelids was getting deeper with each passing moment.
"Wait…" Bobby voice trembled as he fumbled his jacket's pocket, "I think I found something." He retrieved the small cylinder of Albuterol from his jacket's pocket and handed it to Dean. Dean almost snatched the inhaler from Bobby's hand and quickly forced open Sam's mouth to place the inhaler. Making sure his brother's mouth was closed around the small appliance, he timed the exact moment when the kid took in another struggling breath and pushed down on the inhaler. Waiting for a moment, he repeated the process a second time, observing with anxiety, as the medication entered into Sam's constricted airways and hopefully opened them up again. After some time Sam's fight for air seemed to be abate somewhat and his respirations became slightly more even. He didn't regain consciousness through the massive attack, but at least hopefully that meant, wouldn't remember the pain either…again.
Dean fell back against the window and closed his eyes in extreme exhaustion. He almost lost his brother for a second time today. If they didn't have the inhaler, Sam would have…speaking of inhaler, Dean opened his eyes to see that Bobby had taken his position behind the wheel once again. Dean supported Sam again, this time by slinging his arm around him and started to rub his chest again, "Well, when did you put his inhaler in your pocket, Bobby?"
"At home, when we found out that Sam's missing, I took his inhaler cuz I knew, people who has a problem like asthma, they should always have their inhaler with them, twenty four/seven. And I knew that the frigging rainstorm wasn't gonna help Sam. So I kept it." Bobby answered and grumbled under his teeth, "I don't know about Sammy, but if he keeps continuing this, I will sure die in a heart attack."
Dean sighed in relief and placed a trembling hand on his weary forehead. 'Oh God, if Bobby hadn't taken the inhaler, Sammy could've…' he put his palm on his brother's too hot forehead and sighed again, 'Man, this is getting better and better.' Leaning his brother against the seat, he shrugged his jacket off and stripped his outer flannel shirt. Ripping his shirt into pieced to make a bandana he drenched it with cool water from a bottle he found on the floor. He squeezed some of the water out and placed it on Sam's burning forehead. He had to keep Sam's fever down, it way too high. "How far are we now?" He asked as he drenched another piece of cloth with the water and bathed Sammy's face, neck, upper chest to cool his body down. God, it was his favorite shirt, but for Sammy, nothing was important. He would give everything even his life in a heart beat if it meant Sammy would be okay. He swallowed hard as he couldn't get the nose bleed to slow down; wiping the blood with the wet wash cloth, he felt the rapid rise and fall of Sam's chest. 'Oh God, please, give the kid a freaking break, wouldja'?' He thought wryly as he heard Bobby's reply, "Not far, we're just getting there." He answered as he noticed the blue neon light indicating that they reached town.
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It was almost two in the morning, so there was a casual atmosphere at St. Luke hospital. There were a few relatives of emergency patient sitting around; but otherwise the ambiance was cool. Usually people don't come to visit the hospital this late, unless they were dying or massively injured. There were some nurses chatting with their colleagues and a receptionist idly writing something. Dr. Grant was getting ready to leave, as his duty hours were almost over. He was writing something on the clipboard covered with pages of paper, when heard the loud screech of a car coming to a sudden halt outside the emergency entrance. 'What was that,' he frowned and walked towards the main door, when it burst open and two men with an unconscious kid hanging in one's arms tear into the emergency room.
"Help, we need help here." The man who was cradling the young kid in his arms barked in an expressive authoritative tone and staggered towards him. Dr. Grant strode to the man and placed a hand on kid's forehead, 'Jeez, the kid's burning up,' he thought, "What happened?" he asked and barked an order, "I need a gurney over here, STAT."
The younger man, who looked like the kid's brother or friend answered, "My brother, he…he had a bad fever since the morning. But tonight after dinner, he was having some real nasty asthma attack and his nose started to bleed…" The older boy placed the younger one onto the gurney and looked at the physician. Getting a nod to continue, the older boy hesitated for some mere seconds before going on, "…he…ah… passed out then and now won't wake up." Starting to assess the kid, the physician took in the short gasping breaths, combined with the loud wheezing sounds and the cyanosis to his lips and nail beds.
He gave the younger man a nod then ordered to a nurse, "The kid is status asthmaticus, start him on 500 mg theophylline and Solumedrol 200 mg per IV stat." They already started to roll the gurney towards the emergency treatment room and continued their jargons, "How's his BP?"
"140 over 90"
"And?" The doctor started to assess the kid on his chest by a stethoscope.
"Oxygen level is getting low. Kid's tachycardic."
"Okay, start him on O2 at 10 l per mask, keep an intubation kit ready, we might have to use it and hang 1000cc normal saline wide open. He is severely dehydrated. I need respiratory therapy down here stat, so they can start treatments with Albuterol 2.5% and Ipratropium 0.2% per nebulizer." The doctor turned around as kid's brother and the older man followed him almost into the emergency hall. The big brother was clutching his little brother's fingers tightly in his hand like he wouldn't let it go at any cost. The doctor said with an expressionless voice, "Mr…"
"Pratt. But you can call me Dean. He is my little brother Sam." The young man answered.
Dr. Grant nodded and continued, "Mr. Pratt, Dean, you have to stay here when we will be assessing your brother."
"But I wanna be with him. He will be scared." Dean cried petulantly as he clutched his brother's hand more tightly.
The doctor smiled professionally and patted the young man's shoulder, "Dean please, you have to let us do our job, if you want Sam gets necessary treatment right now... I can understand your situation. Why don't you sit down and wait until we finished our treatment? You can fill up the admission forms during this time."
"But…"
"Dean…" This time Bobby interrupted, "…don't be a baby. Let them help Sammy, okay!" He nodded at the doctor, "You can proceed, doc. I will take care of him."
The doctor nodded thankfully to the older man appreciatively and vanished behind the emergency door with Sam's gurney.
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Dean was pacing anxiously on the white linoleum floor chewing his finger nails. It was almost dawn; Sammy had disappeared behind the door almost three hours ago. Dean brought his hand back up on his head and rubbed wearily. The exhaustion was taking a toll on him; the previous day had been rough and the night…, 'Oh God, don't ask'. Dean sighed and brushed his right hand over his face, wiping off the sweat and dirt, he looked at Bobby. The grizzled hunter was sitting on one of the hard plastic hospital chairs, sometimes nodding off until something jolted him awake; he looked 'funny' but Dean wasn't in any mood to laugh. God only knew how Sammy's doing? Dean again paced agitatedly to the front desk and asked for the fifty first time how Sam Pratt was doing. But as usual, the professional receptionist answered the same as she always did. Dean wanted to punch something, wanted to make a hole in the barrier between him and his brother, burst in the emergency room and hold his brother to his chest. He wanted to do something, anything. He gritted his teeth and punched the wall…
"SH*T!"
Bobby jerked awake from his doze and blinked rapidly as he heard Dean's erratic curse. He was obviously going out of his mind and ready do something crazy. Bobby stood up from the chair and took a hold of his neck angrily,
"Dean, would you sit down or I'll have to hogtie you. You're driving me nuts."
Dean stopped and stared incredulously at Bobby for couple of moments, like the older man suddenly had three heads growing on his neck. Without warning he barked, "That's my brother being trapped in that freaking room for three goddamned hours, ring any bells, Bobby! Do you think we should sit down crisscross our legs and start making up jingles?"
"You mind your tone, when you're talking to me boy, or I will kick you're a** out of this hospital." Bobby gritted his teeth and growled, not wanting to shout because of the risk of getting themselves thrown out of the waiting area. He knew Dean was beyond nervous and it was normal, but if he couldn't control himself, he would only make things worse. "Dean, Sammy's being treated in there and if we interrupt, Sam could die." Bobby didn't want to play the 'Sam Card' on Dean but he knew this was only solution for this situation at the moment.
Dean seemed to understand what he was saying and calmed down a little. He slumped down on the hard plastic chair and sighed heavily, "I'm scared Bobby. It's been three hours and we haven't heard any news about Sammy. Bobby, he didn't even regain consciousness when we brought him here. What if something bad is happening with him, what if Sammy…" Dean's eyes again filled with unshed tears.
Bobby patted his back soothingly, "Don't think negatively Dean, nothing bad's gonna happen with Sammy. He is strong Dean, he is a Winchester."
"I know Bobby, but what he suffered…" Dean bit his trembling lower lip and looked away from his friend, "…after what I did to him…" he couldn't finish his words as tears were flowing again from his eyes.
"No Dean, No. You're not to blame…" Bobby tried to console him, but backed away a little when Dean abruptly got up and cried,
"Then who to blame, Bobby? It was me who pushed him away. It was me who blamed him for dad's death. I made him cry Bobby, I f****** made my little brother cry, when I swore to myself to protect him, to make him happy every goddamned day, too make him…" Dean turned away from Bobby and faced the white wall to wipe his tears away.
Bobby opened his mouth to say something but interrupted by another voice, "Dean?"
Dean spun toward the doctor and strode anxiously towards him and breathed, "How is my brother doc, how's Sam?"
"Well, come to my office and I will explain everything to you." Dr. Grant informed.
Dean's legs were shaking, he knew something was wrong. Something was very very wrong as he could read it to see the doctor's face. His voice quivered, "No, tell me here. How's my brother?"
"Well, if you insist…" The doctor started grimly, "…there were some complication during surgery…"
"Surgery?" Dean's eyes widened in horror as he heard the news. He felt Bobby was standing behind him for support but his mind was swirling.
"Yes, we had to do an emergency surgery on your brother, and, I am sorry your brother…"
"Noooooo Sammy…"
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TBC
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Weeeeeelll…Major Cliffy…again!! I'm Evil I know…sooo, what do you dudes wanna do with me right now? Kill me or let me breathe? Let me know what you all think about this chapter. Drop a review and let me know your actions or re-actions.
Love
Ritu.
