Chapter 10: Sam Winchester: Science Experiment
When Dean returned from the cafeteria, he stopped short of Sam's room. The scene inside finally caused the gravity of the situation to hit him full in the face like a punch. There were wires and tubes sticking to and coming from every available space of free skin. For a moment, Dean's breath caught in his throat horrified. But since this was his idea and he knew it would take a toll on Sam, Dean knew he would have to be the strong one. Taking a deep breath, he took a moment to school his features.
It seemed as though every inch of available room space was covered in machines. Sam lay catnapping in midst of them all. In a cluster of tubes and wires, an IV line snaked from his hand even though it wasn't presently connected to anything. Dean knew it was a precautionary measure in case his brother needed the anti-convulsant medications the doctor had mentioned, but it still made his skin crawl. Sam's hair was pinned back from his face with clips similar to ladies' bobby pins, and as much as the older Winchester wanted to make fun of Sam for being a giant girl, the big giant sticky pads attached to his little brother's head where the hair usually laid distracted him.
Dean took another deep breath before knocking to alert his brother of his presence. "All set up, huh?" he asked as though taking in the equipment for the first time.
Sam rolled his eyes. "I still think all this is unnecessary," he said gesturing to the apparatuses surrounding him, "but I guess I'm ready to go. Well, as ready as I'm gonna be."
Dean would never admit it, but he thought he was actually more nervous about all these tests and procedures than Sam. He would never say anything out loud though, more content to put on a brave face. "You know this isn't that bad. Believe me, Sammy. This is for the best. Just like researching for a hunt. At least now, we'll know what's going on."
Sam rolled his eyes again and pouted. "We already know what's going on. It's not like there's a cure for hell invading your brain." He sighed. "But if this will give you peace of mind and get you off my back, I'll do it." He gestured to the equipment surrounding him with another sigh. He would do anything for Dean including being poked and prodded like a lab rat.
"Okay then," Dean said sliding into a nearby plastic chair. "What's all this stuff do anyway?"
"What do you care?" Sam sulked, sinking deeper into the bed careful not to dislodge any of the equipment. "It's all a bunch of useless crap anyway, that's not going to give us new information."
"Just tell me," Dean insisted. He was trying to not only distract his brother but also to find out anything he could about Sam's care. If something were to go wrong, it would be much easier for big brother to determine if they needed to split or not. Plus if he allowed Sam to tell him about the machinery, the younger Winchester would feel far more involved in the whole process, feeling like he was contributing to research instead of having things done to him.
"Well, of course you know the standards: blood pressure cuff, oxygen monitor, and IV. These are EEG electrodes." He pointed to the sticky pads decorated his head, scratching underneath one of them.
"The things Doc said would measure your brain waves."
"Yeah those," Sam said. He smiled at how observant his brother was, in spite of the fact Dean consistently insisted he was nothing more than a grunt, a stupid hunter, good for nothing more than saving other people's lives with no regard for his own. "Don't know how long she's going to have me keep them on for since she wants to do another CAT Scan and MRI to see if she can see something the other doctor missed. Or something that manifests at a different time of day or something. Who knows?"
"Well, we'll just have to wait and deal until she comes back. And I mean deal," he said, pulling a deck of cards from the pocket of his leather jacket and tossing them at Sam.
They were in the middle of the second hand of poker when the younger brother started to doze. "Hey! None of that." Dean smacked his brother's arm causing Sam's cards to go flying. "The doc said no sleeping."
"Come on, Dean! Just a little nap."
"Nope. Not until Doc tells me otherwise."
"I really wish you would stop referring to her like that. She has a name, Dean. Plus, she's my doctor. We really should treat her with respect considering she controls the meds."
"Good point. But you know I just do it to get on your nerves, right Bitch?"
"I know Jerk." Sam punched his brother in the shoulder before settling down against his pillows, trying to get comfortable.
"Uh-uh. Not yet, Sammy." Dean nudged Sam's arm with his elbow. "I told ya, we gotta wait to see what the doctor says. Plus, I know you can last longer than this. I mean the pamphlet said you have to get less than four hours of sleep. And you've gotten less than that on some of the hunts we've been on."
"Fine you win." Sam said frowning, but he pushed himself farther up on the pillows. "You're right," he muttered picking up the cards.
Dean smiled smugly, stuffing the sympathy he felt for his younger sibling deep down where he hid any emotions he didn't believe others should be privy to. He felt for Sam. Being afraid of memories and pieces of hell leaking through the wall had meant Sam hadn't gotten a lot of sleep since getting his soul back. Between fear and headaches and other beat-downs he had experienced lately, Dean was amazed Sam was still functioning. But they needed to get the bottom of this, if there was a simple fix to this crazy ass problem; the elder Winchester was more than willing to take it over a supernatural solution. Which meant for the time being he had to shove his overprotective instincts to make things right for his little brother down and do what was best instead. Which for now meant, helping Sam stay awake, so he got less than four hours of sleep to make for an accurate sleep-deprived EEG reading.
Feeling he was being watched, the older Winchester shook himself out of his thoughts. His eyes met Sam's concerned ones. "Dean, you okay?"
"Yeah, fine." Dean brushed off his brother's concern. After all he wasn't the Winchester in the hospital. "What's with this?" Dean said gesturing toward the cards which were now dumped on the table in a large pile.
"Let's play something else. This isn't keeping my attention anymore. If you want to keep me awake, we've got to play something else."
"Okay. Blackjack?" Dean figured the counting and concentration of the game would help to keep Sam awake.
"Sure. Why not?" Sam agreed just wanting to change the game. "We playing for money?"
"Absolutely." The older brother quickly decided. He hoped counting the winnings would also keep his brother awake.
The brothers froze as the doctor entered the room. "Hello gentlemen. Just checking in." She regarded the machines attached to Sam before turning to the brothers. "Sam, I would like to do a baseline EEG to see where your brain is at before we start the sleep-deprivation EEG. I would like to do at least three EEGs before you leave. Hopefully the more data we acquire the more complete picture it will give us, and I will be able to give you a complete diagnosis. "
Dean watched as she flipped a few buttons and switches on the machine closest to Sam's bed.
"Okay. So here's what's going to happen. I'm turning the EEG machine on, and I'm going to leave it on. However, the test will only run for about 35 minutes. However, if the machine is on after the test, we will be able to see if there is any other seizure activity."
"So…this is kind of like a practice run or something?"
"Sort of." The doctor agreed. "I want to do an EEG while Sam is participating in normal activities." She gestured toward the cards on the table. "This way we will have an idea if anything in Sam's daily activities will trigger seizures. I may do other things during the procedure like: dim the lights or change the temperature of the room to see if those types of alternations in environment will cause seizures."
"Wait, wait, wait." Dean could feel panic rising to the surface, and he quickly shoved it back down opting for anger and frustration instead. "You mean you're going to purposely try to make him have seizures?"
"What did you think trigger meant, Dean? Back off. "Sam glared at his brother. "This was your idea. Now, you have to deal with it. Back off. Leave her alone." Irritation colored his voice, and he trembled slightly with barely contained frustration. The younger Winchester shook his head in disgust.
Dr. Jamison ignored both brothers, waiting until their dispute had petered out before continuing. "Yes. The idea is to attempt to figure out what causes Sam's seizures in a controlled environment. Because we can administer the medication needed here, instead of chancing a seizure at home away from medication and medical assistance."
"I guess that makes sense," Dean grumbled. "Doesn't mean I have to like it," he said shooting a glare of his own at his brother.
"I'm sure no one finds it pleasant," Dr. Jamison responded while winking at Sam. "But this is exactly what I'm talking about with a baseline EEG or a first EEG. Just normal, everyday activity to use as a monitor of what causes seizure activity. Things like playing cards or arguing with your brother. It allows me to see what types of activities might trigger a seizure outside the hospital or what changes in environment could do the same thing." She checked the machine's readouts skimming the information before returning her gaze to the brothers. "Everything looks to be in order. Are you ready to begin Sam? I would like to start the first round of testing now if you are all set."
"Might as well get it over with," he sighed, picked the cards off the table, and began to shuffle them. He turned to Dean, "Who's dealing?"
The brothers played Blackjack through the first round of the testing. No seizures. No changes. Just a slightly more exhausted Sam. Then Dean grabbed the remote off the side table and flipped through TV channels to find something interesting to watch.
"Stop!" Sam growled, the words slipping through clenched teeth.
Dean paused wondering what irritating thing he had done this time.
"Stop. You're going too fast. It's giving me a headache. Just pick something and stay there Dean." The younger Winchester rubbed at his temples nearly dislodging some of the EEG pads.
Dean put down the remote, tempted to call the doctor. His fingers hovered over the call button in the slot on the bed.
"Don't bother." Sam mumbled his head now resting back against the pillow. His eyes were squinted to prove to his brother he was not asleep even though his head was killing him. "Machine will record all the data anyway."
"But maybe…"
"No. She won't give me any medication or things like that because she needs to see if the headaches are a cause or a symptom." He groaned wishing the feeling of someone stabbing his temples with the knife he usually kept under his pillow would dissipate. "I'm hungry. Why don't you go get some food I can eat once this headache goes away?"
"But…" Dean protested.
"I won't fall asleep," Sam assured. "Plus you remember what Dr. Jamison said the last time she came in here. It doesn't matter if I fall asleep for a little while as long as I don't get more than four hours total. And knowing you, a food run won't take anywhere near that long."
"Sam…"
"Please Dean," Sam pleaded. "I need some food and a break. Just go. You need to get out of this hospital as much as I need you to leave for a few minutes. We need a break from each other. We've been joined at the hip all day since we started on this whole little adventure at the walk-in. Go get yourself a burger and find me a salad or something. I promise I'll try to not be asleep when you get back."
"I don't know if this is a good idea." Dean was skeptical of this whole plan, but he had to concede Sam's point. They'd been in each other's pockets for the entire day, and now it was late evening. No breaks except for the few seconds Sam had tried to make a break for it in the parking lot then again in the conference room.
"Go," Sam insisted.
"Fine, Bitch."
"Leave, Jerk."
As much as Sam had tried to push his brother out the door, now that he was gone Sam felt extremely alone. He was worried he would have a seizure while Dean was gone. He didn't want to remember hell without his brother there. Dean had helped him come back from his last few episodes. It made him nervous to think he might remember something without his brother there to ground him. He turned his eyes to the TV attempting to focus on the program Dean had stopped on to distract himself and keep him from falling asleep until the elder Winchester returned with food.
Dean came back to Sam watching Mysteries at the Museum one of the few shows they could agree to watch together. Sam watched the show for the historical aspect. Dean watched for the creepy factor of all the artifacts, trying to figure out if any of them were haunted. His little brother looked worn out and exhausted. He was zoning out, eyes aimed at the TV but not really watching. The older Winchester once again had to take a moment to school his features because returning with the food and seeing his brother hooked up the various machines hit him freshly with a shock like punch to the gut. Every time he thought he was getting used the situation; reality came back and socked him full in the face. But it was his job to stay positive and keep Sam positive too. He walked into the room using an elbow to knock on the door as he entered.
Sam noticed Dean in the doorway, arms laden with bags of food. He could see his older brother had gone to various places in the town, even though Sam had told him to get some kind of salad. "Who's going to eat all that?" he asked tilting his head from one side to the other to read the bags in his brother's hands.
"Well you didn't say what you wanted. So I got a little bit of everything."
"I told you I was okay with salad."
"You need more than that."
"Coffee?" Sam asked, hope in his voice.
"Yeah, right. And keep you up all night." Dean chuckled; then his face turned thoughtful.
"Isn't that what you want to do?" Sam persisted logically.
As Dean looked at his little brother, he saw hope shining in Sam's eyes. The older brother was in the process of handing over a steaming cup of coffee from the drink carrier he had hidden under the bags of food when he felt a hand on his arm.
"Uh, uh, uh…" Dr. Jamison had come in behind Dean. "No caffeine." She looked pointedly at Sam knowing he had read through the pamphlets she had given him. "You need to be completely caffeine free for at least 24 hours before your sleep-deprived EEG. Caffeine will change the results of the test."
Dean pulled the cup back from Sam as if it was going to burn the younger Winchester if he was allowed to touch it. As the doctor continued, Dean snorted into his own cup of coffee.
"I'm not going to do the sleep deprived test until tomorrow around noon just to make sure any caffeine you've had today is completely out of your system. But you need to make sure to have nothing caffeinated for the rest of the evening. And remember it's all right to get some sleep, but I really don't want you to sleep too much. No more than four hours."
"Don't worry doc." Dean smiled then withered under a pointed look from Sam. "Doctor Jamison," he corrected. "I've got it covered."
"This is nothing new Dr. Jamison," Sam said with a yawn. "We don't get much sleep normally."
"Well, my advice is to change that. Lack of sleep is more likely to trigger seizures." She frowned at the admission.
Sam ducked his head, hair falling in his face as if embarrassed or ashamed. "I'll try."
"I hope so." Dr. Jamison walked over to the EEG machine, and her eyes scanned the readings. "No seizure activity from the first session. Except it looks like there was a slight spike around dinner time."
"I had a bit of a headache just before Dean left to get food," Sam admitted.
"Probably not seizure activity related, but I would still like to leave the EEG attached for the evening."
"Fine with me," Sam grumbled. "Not like I had anything planned anyway." Dean nudged his brother. "Sorry Dr. Jamison," the younger Winchester ducked his head in shame again.
Dr. Jamison offered Sam a smile then closed the door behind her and left them to their TV show.
Morning couldn't come fast enough for either of the brothers.
They sat next to each other as they continued the marathon of Travel Channel shows: Mysteries at the Museum interspersed with Bizarre Foods aka another one of Dean's favorite shows to watch. Sam napped on and off, but Dean never let him sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. Around one in the morning was when, everything went to crap. The brothers were watching yet another episode of Bizarre Foods, this one in Arizona.
Dean interest piqued at one of the new foods. "Sam check it out. That dude's eating a hot dog with bacon and beans and onions. Man, I would love to get me one of those with extra onions."
"Dude, I would have to ride in the car with you and your extra onions." Sam wanted to smile as an old memory assaulted him. A memory from when he and Dean had nothing bigger to worry about than hunting monsters and chasing the yellow-eyed demon. Now, they were dealing with nastier and more complicated things like: Hell inside Sam's head and Eve, the mother of all monsters. But something was nagging at the back of his mind reminding him sometimes simple jobs weren't always so simple.
Sam stared at his usual wall of clues and collected materials, a skill he had learned from his father. Samuel was in the corner admiring the set up. "You're sure it's a Wendigo?" Samuel asked following the strands of information.
"It fits. Missing people, Woods, Survivors swearing they hear people in trouble."Sam was insistent.
"Sam. The information says that, but I've never heard of a Wendigo this far west."Samuel was skeptical of his supposed grandson's conclusion.
"You've also never heard of the internet. Things have changed since the first time you were around, Samuel. I know my lore."
"I'll have you know I'm a joy to be around. Sam. Hey, Sammy, are you even listening? Sam!" Dean looked up from where he had been picking through the leftover food. The EEG machine started gaining speed from where it had been quietly whirring along in the corner. The older Winchester wasn't sure if he should push the call button or just ride it out. His mind and heart raced. But he sat watching Sam and waiting. He glanced down at his watch; he thought he remembered reading somewhere you were supposed to time seizures. He would wait a few minutes, and if Sam was still zoned out, he would push the call button. For now, he would wait.
For Dean, those few minutes seemed like eons. It probably wasn't even any more than a minute. But any time his little brother was hurting felt like an eternity to Dean. "Take your time, Sammy. I'll just be here waiting. You take your time."
Just as the elder Winchester was about to push the call button, Sam came to. "What the…? What? What happened? What's going on?"
"You zoned out on me for a while there dude." Dean's voice dripped with relief even though he tried to disguise it.
"Not too long right?" Sam's voice trembled with fatigue and fear.
"Nope just long enough for the doc's machine to record some stuff. And for me to get a little bit nervous." Sam knew these seizures were making Dean more than nervous, but he allowed his older brother to brush off the concern he felt as just a minor thing.
"Ugh, I wish this whole thing was over." Sam groaned, closing his eyes. He opened them quickly again sure Dean would be all over him forcing him awake.
To his surprise, Dean quietly replied, "Me too, Sammy. Me too. Why don't you catch a couple of Z's."
"But Dean, I'm not supposed to sleep," Sam objected.
"You look like you're about to drop," Dean countered. "Promise I won't let you sleep for more than an hour."
"Okay," Sam said his eyes drifting shut. He dozed on and off until mid-morning. But nothing longer than half an hour at a time.
Mid-morning arrived with Sam as crabby as ever. The brothers were watching some morning talk show, neither really paying attention. Both instead watched the clock waiting for Dr. Jamison to make an appearance.
"I'm so exhausted. We've done this tons of times. I've definitely stayed up and done research for jobs and gotten less sleep than this. Why am I so tired?" Sam yawned, scratching at the EEG pads. "Damn, these things itch. I'm ready to pass out."
"Uh-uh. Not yet Sammy. Gotta wait for Dr. Jamison's approval," Dean bumped Sam's arm as it rested next to his on the bed.
"Are we done yet?" Sam knew he sounded like a whiney two-year-old, but at this point that's what he felt like. He really needed a nap, a long one more than a few minutes.
"A little while longer, then we're outta here," Dean glanced down at his cell phone as if just remembering he had told Bobby they would soon be on their way.
Sam rubbed at his head. "I'm so ready to break out of here; I'm gonna sleep for a week."
"I'm more than willing to let you. But not yet. You just need something to distract you." The elder Winchester pulled out the deck of cards from the night before. Just as he began dealing, Sam's breakfast showed up. The younger Winchester picked at it, nibbling a few pieces of fruit, his older brother stealing bits of eggs and a piece of toast.
As the brothers shared breakfast, Dr. Jamison entered the room with a knock. "Good morning, Singers. Sam, are you ready for the sleep-deprived EEG?"
"I got hardly any sleep if that's what you're asking," Sam said sounding petulant like toddler preparing to throw a temper tantrum.
"That was partly why I was asking. But I also wanted to know if you had any caffeine this morning, to check your vitals, and to see if you were actually ready to get this underway."
"No caffeine. Dean owes me two cups of coffee after this," he said glowering at his brother. "I'm counting. And I'm more than ready Dr. Jamison. The faster we get this done; the sooner I can leave."
"I want to get you out of here just as much as you want to get out of here," the doctor sympathized. "But I also want to make sure I give you the most complete diagnosis I can before I send you off."
"Sounds good. Let's do this." Sam yawned once again.
"I'm in agreement, Mr. Singer. Everything looks good so let's head down to the testing room." She started to disconnect Sam from everything except the IV.
"You mean we're not doing it here?" Dean butted in asking the question his brother had been too tired to voice.
"No we have a specific lab for testing. Especially to perform a sleep-deprived EEG." Dr. Jamison removed the EEG pads from Sam's head. "We'll apply fresh ones for the new test."
"Dean this is probably going to take a while just like last time. You may as well go get some real breakfast, "Sam urged.
"Sam…" Dean hedged, no doubt fishing for a reason to stay.
"Dean, I'll be fine." Even though Sam was the one undergoing
Dr. Jamison interrupted, "Mr. Singer. Why don't you come with us to see where the room is? Then go get some breakfast. By the time you get back, Sam will be all set up."
"Okay," Dean agreed ducking his head in embarrassment as Sam had earlier before following Sam and doctor out the door.
When Dean returned with Egg McMuffins and an assortment of extras from McDonald's, Sam was all set up, dozing in a large recliner that kind of freaked Dean out. It reminded him of one of those chairs you see in movies for people on chemo. That was the last image Dean needed in his head. Even though he had thrusted his little brother into this situation, he was getting more and more anxious about the whole thing. He would let Sam sleep for a while then wake him up. The doctor had said it would be beneficial for the younger Winchester to sleep during the test because seizures often occurred in the transition between sleep and waking.
Sam slept for about 45 minutes before he woke to his brother once again flipping channels. "Can't you ever just choose something? Turn that thing off," he said placing his arm over his eyes until he heard the noise of the commercial ceased.
"Cards?" Dean pulled a deck out of his pocket. Sam wondered how many of them his brother had.
"Sure. Poker?" Sam was ready to beat his brother now that he'd had a chance to get some sleep.
"Absolutely," Dean agreed pulling a bag of peanut M&Ms from the same pocket the cards had come from. "Let's raise the stakes."
Sam smiled at the fact his brother's idea of raising the stakes was playing for his favorite candy instead of playing for money.
Dean dealt the cards, and they were able to play a few hands before Dr. Jamison disrupted the game. "Ah, I see you found a way to occupy yourselves." She laughed. "Has Dean let you get any sleep at all, Sam?" She skimmed the EEG readings. "No seizure activity yet. But I'm going to leave the EEG on for a while yet. If you get some more sleep, we might see some activity. And you'd better watch yourself, Dean," she said gesturing to the game, "he'll take you for everything you've got."
As Dean and the doctor watched, the EEG machine began making the same noise it had in the early morning hours. Sam had frozen. He was a statue, staring out at nothing. "Sam. Sammy. You okay?" No response. The older Winchester wondered exactly what horrific event his little brother was reliving, trapped inside his mind.
"Better be careful. Watch yourself against him, he'll take you for everything you got," Samuel warned the man in front of him, who was smiling at the cards in his hand before raising the pot.
Sam glanced down at the cards in his hand then to the man next to him and finally to Samuel standing where he had moved to the corner. He remembered the conversation that had lead to him sitting here playing cards. They had needed money for new ammunition, so the young Winchester had suggestion hustling.
Samuel hadn't liked the idea, but since coming back he was more than willing to do whatever it took to get his daughter back. Even if it meant deferring to his supposed grandson on certain matters.
"Not like the people we're taking money from are going to use it for anything useful anyway," Sam snapped. "Plus it's the easiest way to get money I know of."
"What about the case?"Samuel pressed.
"If it's what I think it is, we need the money for extra supplies. Who needs the money more than us?" Sam said matter-of-factly, and he smiled.
Dean noticed small shivers running through his brother's body. Sam flinched as if slapped even though his eyes were closed as though he was sleeping. The older Winchester placed a hand on his brother's arm. "It's okay, Sammy. Whatever you're seeing, it's not real anymore," Dean whispered.
Sam cringed internally at his own callousness, but continued to be sucked into the scene unfolding in front of him.
"I fold."
"I fold."
"I fold."
Sam's creepy smile grew wider as he laid his hand on the table. Flush. He had won. The man next to him who had seemed so confident laid his cards on the table next to Sam's. Two pair. He had failed. The younger Winchester could feel his soulless self trying to hold back a laugh. "That's it Gentleman. I'm out," he said scooping up the money and other valuables that had been piled in the middle of the table. He filled his pockets as well as a backpack he had stashed on the floor. He joined Samuel, and the two left together before anyone wanted a rematch.
"I still don't agree with this," Samuel muttered.
"Shove it, Samuel. Money is money."Sam growled.
Sam watched as his soulless self turned at the sound of gravel crunching underfoot behind him.
"What do you want?" Sam asked sounding bored.
"I…I…I want a rematch," Behind the young Winchester and his grandfather was a short, stocky man in his mid-40s. His hair was graying at the temples, his shirt was rumpled as though he had slept in it; there were stains on his pants.
"A re-match?" This time Sam let out a chuckle. "You want a poker re-match? Don't you know the game? I called your bluff. You lost your own money. I didn't take it from you."
"Please," the man begged. "I need the money to fund a search for my wife. She is one of the missing. Please. I'm her only family. I'm the only one who will look for her. Please."
In the past, the man's pleas would have appealed to Sam's empathy, to his sense of family and being the only one left. But now, he didn't care. It didn't matter that the man wanted the money to look for his wife. "She's probably dead anyway. A search wouldn't even be worth it. Better to put the money to better use," Sam said walking away leaving the pleading now sobbing man in his wake.
"Sam, that was a little harsh, son. Maybe you should give him some of the money."
"I'm not your son. And life is harsh. I'm surprised that man has made it this far in life without realizing it. Better someone shows him now rather than letting him go his whole life thinking people are kind. And we need the money more. We need the flame thrower. Fire's the only way to kill a Wendigo." Sam remembered his other confrontations with Wedigos.
"We don't even know if this job is a Wendigo," Samuel disputed.
"Are you questioning my research?" Sam turned on Samuel.
Samuel backed off, eyeing Sam warily. "No. Not questioning your research, just saying we should double check everything before we go off buying weapons."
"We need the flame thrower," Sam paused in his explanation, listening once again to crunching gravel. Turning, he saw the man from the poker game again. "Can I help you?" he said his voice deepening dangerously. "Thought I told you the money is mine."
"Please just a few hundred dollars to fund a search for my wife," the man begged.
"She's dead. Give it up." Sam groaned in frustration. "And if you keep following me, you won't like what happens next," he said shifting the backpack higher on his shoulder so he could crack his knuckles and his neck.
"Please. Just a few…"Sam cut off the man's plea by drawing himself to his full height and pulling a gun from the waistband of his jeans.
"Sam, that's enough," Samuel placed a hand on the younger man's arm. "You. Get out of here," he gestured to the rest of the parking lot. "Go on."
Sam stowed his gun back in the waistband of his jeans and climbed into the Campbell family van. "Let's go get the flame thrower, so we can get out of this town. "
Then was a flash of bright light, and Sam found himself in the back of what looked like a pawn shop. He was there, well his soulless self, Samuel and a large, muscled, bald man who looked like he should be a bouncer at a club instead of running a pawn shop. The room didn't look like a typical pawn shop. It looked the back rooms where Dad had done under the table weapon's deals.
Sam ran his hands over the flame thrower like a doctor examining a patient, probing everything from the firing mechanism to the trigger. "This will get the job done?" he asked the bouncer.
"Sold plenty of them to other hunters," he grinned.
Sam's face remained hard. "Not what I asked."
"Sam," Samuel warned.
"I want to test it," Sam pressed.
"No problem. Got a target area out back," he said as if he'd expected this.
Sam went outside to the target area. He hoisted the flame thrower onto his shoulder, and fired it. A giant stream of flame shot from gun, yellow and gold toward the practice dummy.
Another flash of white light, and Sam could feel the flames of hell licking at his face as they had on the floor of the rundown house.
As Dean watched, his brother began to shudder and shimmy across the bed as he had across the floor of the abandoned house. The older Winchester shook himself to rid his mind of the flashback. He didn't need to slip into nasty thoughts while he was trying to keep his brother from his own. He left a hand on Sam's arm and placed another on his forehead. "Come on, Sammy. I don't know what you're remembering, but it's time to come back little brother. Come back over the wall," he whispered.
The flames licked at Sam's face and hair. He resisted the urge to scream. He wanted to cry in agony and pain, but he didn't want to give Lucifer the satisfaction. Lucifer ran cold, but he still enjoyed playing with the flames of his realm. Sam could feel the skin of his face begin to bubble and blister as if it was boiling. He could smell burning and singed hair; he felt the need to throw up knowing it was his own. He could feel the fire crawling up the strands of his hair, closer and closer to his head. The hair hanging in his eyes seemed to burn faster than the rest the younger Winchester's shaggy mane. Flames and embers inched their way closer to his eyes.
Just as the orange and yellow glow was about to touch Sam's eyes, he pulled back and came to with a gasp. Just as before, Dean swore he could see the shadows of burning flames in his brother's eyes. The older Winchester held his brother down with a light touch, not moving his hands from where he had placed them after the second seizure. He used the hand on Sam's forehead to direct his brother's face to look at his own. "Sammy. I'm right here. I'm right here. It's over. It's over. You're safe, little brother. It's okay."
Sam panted as if he had just run a marathon or been chased on a hunt. Sweat trickled down his face. The EEG machine had stopped its frantic whirring and whining. Now it made sort of a contented purr.
Doctor Jamison pulled the paper from the machine and moved to the side to analyze the data.
The younger Winchester was now resting his head on his brother's shoulder, eyes drifting closed as they waited for results, not caring about the doctor in the room. Right now, he needed comfort and sleep, and he was going to get it.
"Sam." Dean shook him awake as Doctor Jamison returned. "Come on, buddy wake up."
"Uh-hmm," Dr. Jamison cleared her throat. "Excuse me. I have the results of your EEG, Mr. Singer."
"Sam," he mumbled.
"Sam," Dr. Jamison amended. "I do believe you have epilepsy. Between the smaller absence seizures you had early this morning and at the beginning of this session and the grand mal you had just now. I am confident in my diagnosis. I would still like to do another MRI and CAT SCAN now, post EEG testing. Once both those tests have been run, I feel I will be able to most accurately write you the prescriptions you need to control your seizure activity."
Sam was now more awake. "Why an epilepsy diagnosis?" His curiosity and natural research instinct made themselves known.
"Epilepsy is a diagnosis used when seizures have no known cause or preamble. You can still have triggers: some people are photosensitive, easily reacting to things like strobe lights or are more likely to have seizures when they are tired. However, during this EEG test we've exposed you to those things. But you had a seizure without any of the typical triggers, which leads me to a diagnosis of epilepsy. Though, you may want to have additional EEGs in the future if there are changes in your condition."
Sam nodded knowing the doctor was correct. He and Dean waited in the EEG room for the doctor to schedule the CAT Scan and MRI. When she came back, she took Sam without any prelude or a word to Dean.
As Sam was taken off for the new MRI and CAT scan, Dean pondered what the doctor had said before whisking his brother away. Medication, tests, this was their life now. That's if these things helped. He'd noticed Sam's crazy hell seizure had slowed down when the doctor administered the IV medication, the anti-convulsant she'd called it. So maybe this wasn't a solution, only a stop-gap, but definitely a step in the right direction. Management is what Dean was inclined to call it.
The elder Winchester sat awkwardly alone in the EEG room waiting for his brother to return from testing. He didn't realize how long he'd been lost in his thoughts until he heard Sam's voice along with Dr. Jamison's.
"The CAT scan and MRI confirm what the EEG showed. You do indeed have a seizure disorder. I'm going to prescribe an anti-convulsant medication for the grand mal seizures and an anti-seizure medication for the absence seizures. I'm starting you on a low dose of both of the medications. But your condition is unique. Most people have one or the other, not both types." She paused as they had now returned to Dean to include him in the conversation. The she continued, "Because your situation is so unique. You should go to another doctor in a month or so to have another EEG possibly another MRI and/or CAT scan. I also recommend this because as you can see here…"She paused as she shuffled through the paperwork in her hands pulling Sam's original MRI results out. "As we talked about during our first meeting, I believe your seizures are caused by scar tissue here and here." She pointed to white spot on the MRI and the same one was on the CAT scan. "Part of reason I suggest a monthly doctor visit is to make sure this scar tissue isn't growing or causing more health problems."
"I'll make sure he gets the appointments," Dean confirmed.
"Dean…"Sam cut in making sure his brother wasn't going to take over the conversation. Otherwise they'd never get out of here. "Go ahead, Dr. Jamison."
"I would be more than happy to help you schedule the first few appointments and recommend a specialist for you if you tell me where you live." She pulled out a stack of pamphlets.
"We'll be staying in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, for the next few months," Dean spoke up. "Our uncle lives near Sioux Falls General. If you could recommend some specialists there, that would be awesome."
Sam could see the doctor holding back a laugh at his over-enthusiastic brother. "I would be more than happy to Dean. She pulled a pamphlet from her stack handing it to the younger Winchester. Then pulled another out and handed it to his brother. "I will make some phone calls and contact you with the names." She pulled a business from her coat pocket as well. "Here's my card. Feel free to call if you have any other questions. Either of you." She handed Sam the card as well as two pieces of paper. "Your prescriptions," she said.
"You know, he'll take you up on that offer doc," Sam said taking the card and prescriptions. "Just so you're warned."
"I'm sure I'll be able to handle it, Sam, but thank you for your concern. One last thing, when you decide on a neurologist, let me know, and I will send over all your records." The doctor checked her stack of papers to see if she had anything else for the "Singers" before they left. "That's all I have for you," she said. "I will contact you as soon as possible with that list of names."
"Thanks for all your help, Doctor Jamison," Sam smiled the corners of his eyes crinkling with happiness and relief that he was finally done feeling like a science experiment. He walked out the door, knowing his brother probably had more questions for the doctor.
"Yeah, thanks Doc," Dean said once Sam had ventured into the hallway. "Did you really mean what you said? We can call you with any questions or concerns?" He glanced nervously at his brother wandering the halls. "Yes Dean, I meant it. Any questions, any concerns. Or even just to talk about your brother's condition."
"Thanks, Doc." Dean smiled too.
Doctor Jamison watched the "Singer" brothers walk down the hall, wishing them the best of luck.
Dean clapped his brother on the back as they walked together toward the Impala. "Oh, girl, I missed you," he heard Sam whisper to the car before he got in.
Dean suppressed the grin he could feel forming. He walked around the car, and by the time he climbed into the driver's seat, Sam was completely crashed out against the passenger side window. His shaggy hair flopped in his face, quiet snores coming from under the hooded sweatshirt he had donned after climbing in.
As the older brother drove off, he thought…
This would be the end of it. Sam would get some sleep, Dean would get the prescriptions, and the brothers would be on their way to Bobby's and regular hunting life.