Alright guys! Long overdue ch 29! I wanted to post it Sunday...but had a very rough weekend and kind of quit life for the day. And I'm glad I didn't post then anyway because the more I worked on the chapter, the better it got! I hope you'll agree! :) It is also quite a lengthy chapter, so hopefully that makes up for the long wait!
I'm working on getting the (already FINISHED!) Christmas story polished up so I can post that for the holidays as well.
Also. Today's my birthday so it was kind of exciting to get to post today lol! Happy reading!
Chapter 29
"Sam."
Sam.
"Need ya to wake up a little."
Good morning, Vietnam!
"Hey, take it easy."
Yeah, Sam, take it easy. This won't hurt a bit.
"Sam?"
Sam?
The voices mixed and mingled until they were one confusing hum in the background. Sam stopped trying to sort them out. He knew which one was real. He did. For the first time in a very, very long time, there was no doubt in his mind. It didn't make it any easier to listen to the remembered voice of the devil mocking his brother, though. It was all memory now, but it was still there. Maybe it always would be.
At the moment, Sam wasn't sure of anything except that he hurt. Everywhere. His entire body ached, but his head hurt most of all. It was heavy and murky and throbbing in time with his pulse. The jagged pain left him nauseated and teetering on the edge of consciousness. He knew he would have already been on the ground if it hadn't been for Dean's support. Fighting with whatever he had left, which wasn't much, he tried to listen to what Dean was saying.
"...better not be falling asleep."
Sam tried to find his voice, tried to tell his brother that he definitely wasn't falling asleep. Exhausted as he was, sleep seemed impossible. Even Dean's confident insistence that he needed to sleep through the night, and would, thanks to some medicinal assistance, didn't make Sam feel any better. It only made him feel worse. He felt-
Pathetic.
Sam stiffened, imagining the devil's voice again.
You're pathetic.
Trying to ignore the voice, memory, Sam wished he'd been able to keep the crazy to himself. Wished he could have kept it hidden, kept it buried. He'd spent hours torturing himself with the memories he couldn't forget; with the fears he couldn't face. The last thing he'd wanted was for Dean to catch him as he'd tried to outrun everything. He'd made it out the door, but he hadn't outrun anything. And everything hadn't just followed; it had crushed him until he couldn't breathe. And then Dean had caught him as he'd collapsed under the weight of it all.
What a baby. You're hopeless, you know that?
Sam shook his head against his brother's shoulder, fighting to keep his thoughts in the present. In reality. Dean's hand pressed against his head with gentle pressure, his other arm still around his shoulders.
"...not going to feel any warmer if we stay out here." Dean's voice filtered in over the memories.
"What?" Sam almost choked on the word. His mouth was dry and saying even that one word had aggravated the headache.
"We need to go inside."
He knew Dean was right, but still he hesitated. Because they weren't alone. The thought of facing anyone else right now had the chest pains starting up again. Mumbling into Dean's shirt, he said, "I can't breathe in there."
"Yeah, I know." Dean rubbed his back again as he said softly, "But you can't stay here."
For a moment, they fell silent and Sam listened to the sound of the waves behind him. He could feel Dean trembling and remembered how he'd been in the emergency room only hours before. Remembered that he was extremely sick. Sam could hear Dean's congested breaths, the way they were unsteady and too fast. Dean's skin was warm, which was good because Sam was freezing, and bad because he knew it meant his brother was running a fever.
Wishing he'd been able to sneak out of the house without Dean noticing, Sam knew they needed to get back inside for his brother's sake if for nothing else. Slowly, he shifted and pushed himself away from Dean. He landed on his butt, right hand pressed into the cold sand and Dean's hands on his shoulders, holding him up as the world spun in three different directions.
"Tell me before you go anywhere next time!"
Dean's blurry, worried face drifted in and out of focus in front of his eyes and Sam felt sick. Closing his eyes, he gave some serious thought to the merits of curling up right there in the sand and going to sleep. And then he wondered if he would even be able to sleep if he tried. The chills shook him and he blindly reached out with his free hand until he caught hold of Dean's arm to steady himself.
"Sam?" Dean called his name, but Sam couldn't find his voice. "Come on, open your eyes. Need a little cooperation here-"
He wanted to cooperate, he really did. But his entire body seemed to have decided to throw in the towel and choose this as his permanent resting spot. It wasn't so bad, Sam thought. A little too cold, the ground a little too hard, but not the worst place to curl up and die. He felt Dean shaking, heard his frantic voice.
"Don't you dare." Dean's hands dug into his shoulders and halted his slow drift to the side. "Open your eyes."
Sam got his eyes open then tightened his grip on Dean's arm. Together they managed to get more or less upright. His heart was pounding in his ears and, if he focused hard enough, he could see Dean's lips moving. He had no idea what Dean was saying, but Sam figured he had a pretty good idea of the gist of it. So he tried to answer his brother and wasn't surprised when Dean stared at him like he had no idea what he'd just said.
He didn't know what he'd just said either.
Trying again, this time he managed not to sound like he'd been talking underwater. "Not... sure I can... get up."
Dean didn't relax his grip, but said, "Oh, ok. In that case I'll just go get you a blanket."
"Pillow?"
"What?"
"Can I have a pillow too?" Sam asked. He forced a quick smile even though he was dangerously close to taking Dean up on the offer.
It took a moment for his words to sink in, then Dean snorted and the tension that had settled over them dissipated. Dean shook his head and said, "Inside. Now."
"I wasn't joking," Sam whispered as Dean started to pull him up. How is it even possible to be this tired? "I don't think I can-"
"Sure you can," Dean replied, not letting go. He grabbed Sam's upper arms and started pulling. "Dude, how can you weigh this much when you haven't eaten anything in days?"
"All muscle."
"Whatever." Dean huffed, holding him more or less steady.
Sam felt seasick as he got back to his knees. It was as if he were kneeling on a trampoline; the ground was solid, he knew it, but it seemed to give way beneath him whenever he shifted. He tightened his grip on Dean's arm, closing his eyes again and hoping he wouldn't throw up all over his brother.
"Come on." Dean huffed. "Not that far."
Sam lifted his head, trying to gauge how close they were to the house. His heart sank; it looked like it was miles away. Glancing at Dean, he realized his brother was every bit as done in as he was. He wished he'd waited. Waited until Dean had truly been asleep before he'd tried to get outside. Wished he'd been strong enough not to need to go outside.
Wished the nightmare was over.
"Alright," Dean said, pulling his attention back to the current issue, "here we go."
It was discouraging how much difficulty Dean experienced getting to his feet. Even so, he didn't let go of Sam's arms. Once Dean was standing up, Sam took a deep breath and, together, they managed to get him on his feet.
"Hey! Hey, hey, come on, don't-" Dean's voice broke off abruptly.
Things went black, but it wasn't until his knees hit the ground that Sam even realized he was falling. The shock ran through his entire body and he groaned as the sharp pain slammed into his skull. He lost his grip on his brother and pressed his hands to his head. Dean was trying to slow his descent as he started slumping to the side.
Sam pulled away because the feeling of hands all over him was sending his mind to another time, another place. There was a tiny, logical part of his brain saying very reasonably that it was just his brother trying to help. But the rest of his brain was screaming he needed to get away.
And, of course, that was the side of his brain that won the argument.
He tried to keep his eyes on his brother, to pay attention to what Dean was saying, but he couldn't. Not for the first time in his life, Sam wished the ground would just swallow him up. And then he remembered the time the ground had swallowed him up. His chest hurt so bad he thought he might be having a heart attack. There was too much happening all at once and Sam had to close his eyes to block it all out.
Arla's fifteen minutes weren't quite up, but when he saw the boys struggle to their feet and immediately go down again, Tommy was heading to the door before she had the chance to tell him to.
"If you need me," Arla said, following him to the door, "wave and I'll come out to help."
Tommy frowned and paused. "You're not-"
She shook her head and he could see the conflict in her eyes. She wanted to go out there right now, but something held her back.
Glancing past him at the sight outside, Arla said, "I don't know if my presence is going to help anything."
"Arla-"
"Just go." She squeezed his arm, pushing him toward the door. "They need someone to get them on their feet again. I'll come if you need me, but it might be better for Sam's sake if I stay away right now."
Beginning to understand her hesitation, he opened the door and said, "I'll let you know."
Once he was outside, Tommy could hear Dean's voice and see that he was trying to hold his brother upright. Sam wasn't making it easy for him. Although his movements were uncoordinated and weak, he was pushing away from Dean's touch. Crossing the yard at a sprint, Tommy got there in time to catch Sam as he leaned away from his brother and Dean lost his grip.
Sam flinched the instant he touched him and started fighting both of them. Tommy backed off, catching Dean's eyes and seeing the flash of gratitude overlaying the fear. He hadn't been sure how Dean would react to his presence. After the brief acknowledgement, Dean's attention returned fully to his brother.
"Calm down," Dean said, crowding Sam from the right side. "Come on, you're fine. It's just us. You're safe, remember?"
Sam didn't stop pulling away until he was completely free of their hands, but he finally met Dean's eyes and nodded. Tommy moved a pinch further away; close enough that he might still be able to catch Sam if he tipped over, but hopefully not too close to make him feel any more trapped than he already did. Dean didn't seem to care about personal space, though, and inched closer, trying to reach out and grab his brother again.
"Don't." Sam shook his head, still shying away and pushing himself backwards until Dean finally stopped trying to grab him.
Tommy watched them staring at each other and held his breath. Without knowing anything that had happened before he'd arrived, he was at a loss to know how to help. He'd come out planning to get them back inside, but obviously the crisis wasn't entirely over yet. Both of them were shaking and breathing hard as they stared at each other uncertainly.
"Are you with me?" Dean asked hoarsely after a few seconds of silence. It looked like it was taking all his willpower to avoid reaching out for his brother again.
Sam squeezed his eyes closed, one hand pressed into the sand to hold him up, the other outstretched to ward off any further contact. After a few seconds, Sam opened his eyes and stared at Dean. His unfocused eyes started to look around, taking in his surroundings as if for the first time. Dean didn't move and neither did Tommy, but Sam still jumped when he realized he and his brother weren't alone anymore. Afraid that he'd made things worse by coming outside, Tommy remained motionless as he watched Sam study him for a few seconds.
"Tommy?" Sam stared at him with a frown.
Offering a small smile, Tommy said softly, "It's me, Sam."
Sam stared at him for another moment, trying to keep his eyes open. His breathing began to calm although he was still shaking and wavering where he sat. He looked back at Dean and lowered his hand.
"You with me?" Dean asked again, not moving. "Sam?"
"I'm with you," Sam said, voice broken and unsteady. It sounded like he was surprised by his own admission.
Dean smiled and his relief was obvious. He held out his hands and asked, "You ok if I catch you before you fall over?"
Sam nodded and Dean moved faster than Tommy'd expected. He caught Sam just as the arm holding him up started to collapse. Sam leaned against him and closed his eyes. Dean wrapped his arms around him instantly but lost his own balance and wound up sitting in the sand too.
Tommy wondered if it were time to call for backup. Dean was having a difficult time holding on to Sam, but shook his head when Tommy moved a tentative inch closer. Ceasing movement, Tommy waited.
Dean didn't take his eyes off his brother as he said, "I'm gonna need some help."
Realizing Dean was talking to him, Tommy said, "Whatever you need."
"Thanks." He still hadn't looked away from his brother. "Sam? Tommy's gonna help me get you off the ground. Ok?"
Tommy watched as Sam slowly opened his eyes. He started pushing himself upright and whispered, "Yeah."
"Ok." Dean nodded, waving his free hand.
Tommy moved closer at Dean's invitation. Sam didn't react when he cautiously took his arm. Waiting for Dean to direct things, Tommy met his gaze and immediately realized Dean wasn't ready to direct anything. He looked every bit as sick as his brother, and for a split second, Tommy thought maybe it made more sense to try to get them back inside one at a time since neither of them was steady.
But he dismissed the thought immediately. Keeping his voice soft and slow, Tommy took over directing things. "Let's start by getting you both back on your feet."
Sam closed his eyes, but started to move. It would have been easier, of course, had Dean been at full strength, but after a few minutes of struggling, they were all three standing. More or less. Sam started sagging as soon as he was on his feet and Tommy was afraid he'd passed out. Supporting most of his weight when it became obvious Dean wasn't steady enough himself to handle it, Tommy held on and waited. After a few seconds, Sam got his legs under him and straightened. Dean was breathing like he'd run a mile, but he was still standing too.
Once Sam had his balance, he pulled away from both of them ever so slightly and took a step forward. Dean stumbled when he stepped forward, muttering under his breath and grabbing at his brother's arm. Sam tried to pull away again, but Dean wouldn't let him this time. Sam finally gave up the struggle and allowed the assistance. Tommy stayed close and only intervened when, after they'd made it almost halfway to the porch, Sam tripped.
Dean nearly hit the ground, but managed to recover himself before it was too late. Tommy was glad because he was having enough trouble keeping Sam from falling. The jarring movement of the stumble left Sam clutching his head with both hands and crumpling forward as he moaned in pain. Dean recovered quicker than Tommy had expected and was supporting his brother from the right side.
"Hang on," Dean said, sounding like he was nearly finished. He was breathless and shaking as badly as his brother was. "Almost there-"
They weren't 'almost there' enough for Tommy's liking. He glanced up and saw Arla standing on the porch, holding the door open. Waiting. About ready to call for her, Tommy felt both of the boys getting their feet under them. He glanced at Dean and saw the concern in his eyes when Sam whispered how bad his head hurt. Wrapping his arm around his brother's waist, Dean tugged him forward gently. Tommy missed some of it, but he did pick up on a few words of the boys conversation as they walked.
"You're like a jellyfish," Dean muttered breathlessly, adjusting his grasp around his brother.
"What?"
"Boneless."
"You're such a jerk." Sam laughed half-heartedly, then groaned and put his hands to his head again.
"Sorry," Dean whispered as they reached the porch steps. "Almost...just...just a little more...ok?"
Sam didn't respond, but lowered his hands and started up the steps. By the time they were on the porch, he was walking slower, but standing a little straighter. Arla held the door open for them and Dean offered her a soft thank you as they walked inside. Tommy smiled at her, knowing how much it was killing her not to be more actively helping. She didn't smile, but nodded and closed the door behind them, still keeping her distance.
They headed toward the staircase and Tommy knew it was going to be a challenge. Sam's head was lowered and his eyes were only open about half the time but he was still moving forward which was more than he'd ever expected.
Reaching the staircase, Tommy stole a quick glance at Dean. From his expression, the looming ordeal was more than Dean felt up to facing. But face it he did, and Tommy wasn't the only one heaving a sigh of relief when they reached the top of the stairs.
Movement ceased as everyone paused to catch their breath. Dean met his eyes and the exhaustion didn't diminish the gratitude. He shifted his grip a little and Sam leaned more into him as Dean stepped forward with a quiet thanks. Taking it as his cue, Tommy nodded. He remained where he was and allowed them to continue on their own into the bedroom.
Dean closed the door halfway then Tommy headed downstairs.
If it were possible to die of embarrassment, Sam knew he would've been dead already. It had been bad enough that Dean had to witness him losing his mind. Knowing everyone was awake and involved this time made it even worse.
Once they walked into the bedroom, though, he stopped thinking about the embarrassment and started thinking about crawling under a hundred quilts and sleeping for the rest of his life. He'd been shivering the entire time, but getting into the warmth of the house only served to clearly show him how cold he was. The brightness of the room had him squeezing his eyes closed and trusting Dean to guide him forward. After what seemed like forever, he sank down onto the edge of the mattress and was one deep breath away from sleep. Or at least from unconsciousness. He still wasn't sure he was going to be able to sleep.
"Stay awake." Dean squeezed his shoulder. "Do not fall asleep yet. Get your shoes off."
Sam groaned, bending forward, hands pressed to his throbbing eyeballs. Anything beyond burying his head under the pillow and letting go of consciousness seemed like too much work. Forcing himself to move, he kicked his shoes off and was about to fall over onto the bed when Dean caught him.
"Not yet. I'm gonna turn off the overhead light, ok?"
Wavering where he sat, hands still pressed to his eyes, Sam didn't know why he had to stay where he was while Dean turned the light off. He listened to Dean flipping on the lamp on the nightstand and could hear Dean moving around again, but didn't bother opening his eyes to see if the overhead light had gone out. For a minute, he lost track of where Dean was and what he was doing.
"Sam."
Dean was next to him all of a sudden, so Sam squinted up at him. The light in the room was muted now and he wished it had done something to alleviate the pounding in his head. But it really hadn't and he tried to focus on Dean when what he really wanted to do was fall over. His heart jumped when he saw the glass of water Dean was holding.
Sam stared at the water and tried not to look at Dean's other hand. Because he didn't want to see the pills he knew Dean was holding. The details of their conversation outside were already fuzzy, but he remembered enough. And he might have begrudgingly accepted what Dean had said outside, but now he was finding it difficult to follow through.
He shook his head.
"Sammy, please."
The desperation in Dean's voice drew his attention and he looked up. Even through the fog, he was shocked at the darkness under Dean's eyes. The stark white pallor of his skin. The way his entire body was trembling. The way he sounded like he was pleading. So Sam nodded and held out a hand.
This time Dean was the one shaking his head. "Don't do it because you think I'm making you. Ok? Because that's not what I'm doing. If you aren't ok with this, I'll put them back."
For a moment, Sam considered his brother's offer. He didn't want to touch the pills. Not even with his brother in charge of them and ensuring he wouldn't do something he'd regret.
It had been so long since he'd been able to think clearly that the sound of more drugs messing with his head turned his stomach. Of course, he wasn't thinking clearly as it was, so what was the difference anyway? What was another few pills at this point?
Pills? You do get that you're just bringing free drugs to the party, right?
His skin crawled, remembering the devil's words. Remembering the drugs. The actual drugs. He didn't have a clear memory of what had happened, but he did remember being out on the street and taking something that he never would have touched had he been in his right mind. At that point, he would have taken or done anything to give himself some relief from the eternity of being awake.
Swallowing hard, Sam forced himself to meet Dean's eyes as he admitted, "I don't think I can sleep."
"I know." And Dean sounded like the thought was hurting him as much as it was hurting Sam.
"What are they?"
"Two painkillers and two of the...uh...meds to help you sleep."
"The ones for anxiety," Sam supplied, hating himself for saying it aloud. It was better than Dean trying to cover it up and make it seem like something it wasn't, though.
"It's not a dirty word, Sam." Dean sighed, crouching down and holding his gaze. "If I'd had the devil in my head, doing what he was doing to you all this time, I'd be feeling pretty damned anxious right now, too. This isn't longterm. It's just for tonight ok? You've gotta sleep."
Sam closed his eyes and gave some very strong consideration to the thought of making another run. Dismissing the idea immediately, he held his hand out again, met Dean's eyes and said, "Ok."
Dean studied him a minute longer. He dropped the pills into Sam's hand. Sam stared at them. They felt heavy and they felt wrong and he wished he didn't have to take them. Wished he didn't need to take them. But he did. Because right now, at this moment, he felt as bad as he'd felt when he was sitting in the psychiatric hospital, exhausted beyond words, yet unable to even close his eyes. Maybe this time, without the devil in his head, he could actually sleep.
Taking the pills with a drink of water, he fought the urge to throw them right back up. Squeezing his eyes closed, he felt Dean take the glass from his hand. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he felt Dean's hand on his shoulder and heard him say, "Lay down."
Shaking his head, he gripped the edge of the mattress with both hands.
"Sam?"
"I...I can't do this."
Dean sighed again and the hand on his shoulder disappeared. Sam shivered, feeling even colder without the contact. The bed dipped and then he felt Dean's shoulder against his.
"Sam, you have to sleep. It's not exactly optional."
He didn't bother to say anything. What was there to say? At this point, he didn't even know why he couldn't sleep. Maybe it was simply that he'd become so used to not sleeping that he had forgotten how to sleep.
Dean elbowed him and Sam almost tipped over, his balance was so bad. Dean sounded matter-of-fact as he said, "I'm gonna turn the radio off. You just need to let the medicine work. You can't go on like this. It's gonna kill you."
Whether it was his brother's voice or it was the medications, Sam started to lose track of what was going on and the awful sensation of being drugged drifted through him. It barely registered at first, then he realized the radio was off and the room was silent.
He lifted his head and searched for his brother. Catching Dean's eye, he said, "No. Leave it on."
Dean shook his head and Sam had to close his eyes again because the movement left him feeling like the room was spinning. Dean's hands were on his shoulders as he said, "You don't need it. You need to sleep."
And then he found himself flat on the bed, head on the pillow without ever having noticed the change in position. His eyes were heavy and he couldn't quite get them open, but he managed to push himself back upright, even though he couldn't maintain the position for long.
"Don't." Dean's voice was close and his hand pressed against his chest. "Don't sit up."
"Dean, I can't...I can't do this." Sam tried to make his brother understand.
Panic was at war with the artificial lassitude the drugs were giving him. The blankets Dean pulled up over him felt like they were made of steel; trapping him where he lay. He needed to get up, needed to get free. Forcing his eyes open, he tried to push Dean's hand away.
The hand didn't leave his chest and Dean said, "I want you to tell me something."
"What?" Sam frowned, at a loss.
His already impaired vision was going double and Dean wasn't making any sense. Heart pounding in his ears, Sam tightened his fingers around his brother's wrist as the drowning feeling swept back over him. The chest pains were back too and he was almost gasping for air when he heard Dean talking.
"Tell me something you remember." Dean's voice was even softer and he sounded tired. "From when we were kids."
"I...don't...I don't know." Sam stared up at him, still trying to push Dean's hand away. He couldn't figure out what Dean had meant and trying to sort the question out was making the headache worse.
"One thing. Something you remember."
Sam closed his eyes and tried to focus. It was so difficult to think. When we were kids. When we were kids. Sometimes it felt like they never had been kids, but then Sam remembered-
"The tree-house," he whispered, looking up at his brother and wondering if he had the right answer.
Dean smiled. "It was a great tree-house."
"It sucked. Even Bobby said so." Sam saw the flash of hurt? Pain? in Dean's eyes and knew he'd said something wrong, done something wrong, but he couldn't remember what. He stopped shoving at his brother's hand and let his his arm drop to his side.
"Yeah, he did say that," Dean said, his smile returning briefly. "It did kind of suck but it was also pretty great. Had a rope to get up-"
"Because a ladder was too easy." Sam remembered how Dean had insisted a rope was way better than a ladder. He tried to keep his eyes on his brother, but it was getting more and more difficult.
"Exactly. What else?"
"Else?"
"What else do you remember?"
Sam closed his eyes and didn't bother to open them again. "I...remember the time...you got th' fireworks."
His words were starting to run together and he couldn't quite untangle them, but it sounded like Dean knew what he was talking about when he said, "Burned down the field."
"You remember that?"
"Of course I do." Dean's voice was softer, seeming farther away, but his hand was still warm against Sam's chest.
Deciding it was his turn, Sam asked, "What else?"
"I remember the time you mowed the lawn for the guy up the street." Dean sounded amused. "You were like ten and the mower weighed more than you did, but you got the lawn done and he gave you a whole twenty. Remember what you spent it on?"
Eyes still closed, Sam smiled at the memory. He'd been so proud when he'd come back from the corner store and surprised Dean with a soda and candy bar for each of them. Saving the rest up until Christmas along with every other penny he'd earned the rest of that summer, he'd been able to buy Dean a decent Christmas present. The only one he got that year.
"I still have those albums," Dean said proudly, following Sam's train of thought.
Obviously March ör Die by Motorhead and Carry On by Kansas had been good choices. Sam had known at the time they would be.
The room fell silent and Sam almost almost fell asleep. But then he realized he was about to fall asleep. Like a switch flipped, the panic surged through his veins again and his eyes flew open. He tried to sit up, but he didn't have any strength left. Dean held him back easily with the hand on his chest and Sam couldn't move.
Dean leaned closer and looked him in the eye as he said, "You're fine. Just stop fighting it, ok? You've been fighting this too long. Go to sleep, Sam. I'm right here."
Sam closed his eyes, wishing he felt as confident as his brother seemed to be. It took some time before he was able to breathe more easily. Longer before his heart rate slowed closer to normal. But eventually, his mind started to shut down and he could feel himself relaxing back into the mattress. He listened to Dean's congested breathing and knew he was safe. Knew Dean was right there. Or was he? He'd been wrong before.
He opened his eyes, heart rate doubling.
"Sam?" Dean looked at him, frowning. "What's wrong?"
Sam swallowed hard and whispered, "Just makin' sure."
Dean didn't need further explanation. He nodded slowly then started talking about more things that had happened when they were kids. Sam closed his eyes and listened. It had been years since they'd talked about this stuff and, tired as he was, he was still surprised at how much his brother remembered. Things he'd long forgotten, Dean talked about as if they'd happened yesterday. As his brother talked, Sam found it more and more difficult to pay attention to what was being said.
And then there was nothing stopping him and he fell into the darkness surrounded by a feeling of warmth and safety as he listened to his brother talk.
Arla wasn't hovering.
She also wasn't pacing or eavesdropping or biting her nails. Tommy had it under control. He'd had it under control outside and he had managed to get both boys upstairs again without an issue. So she returned to the kitchen and started thinking about cupcakes.
When Tommy walked in a few minutes later, she'd gone as far as to have the cookbook out and opened to the cupcake chapter.
"Arla, you're not baking cupcakes at two in the morning," Tommy's amused voice stole her attention from the flimsy distraction of baked goods.
"How are they?" She looked up, closing the book immediately.
He shrugged, sitting down next to her at the breakfast bar.
"That is not an answer."
"I know it's not an answer. I guess the answer is that I don't know how they are."
Arla studied him. His concern was evident, but he didn't look quite as worried as he had when he'd gone outside. Feeling a bit of relief, she asked, "Do they need me right now?"
"Give them a few minutes."
"Ok. Use those few minutes to fill me in."
Tommy smiled then gave her a brief synopsis of what had happened.
She didn't like it, but had to admit it wasn't exactly as bad as it could have been. "I'm glad they allowed you to help."
"They'd still be out there if they hadn't," Tommy said somberly, no amusement in his eyes this time. "Neither of them were doing well. Sam looked like a picture of health compared to his brother."
"I need to-"
"Give them some time."
Arla shook her head, every single fiber of her being telling her to run upstairs right now and start triaging her patients. "Tommy, they need-"
He squeezed her hand and said, "They need to catch their breaths. They need a minute to sort themselves out. And then they're gonna need you to take care of them. We already knew what they've been going through is more than just physical illness. They're both sick, no doubt, but this has taken a toll on them mentally and emotionally. I have no idea what went on before I got outside, but I have a feeling things may be different tomorrow."
"Better?" Arla asked hopefully.
"I think so." Tommy smiled. "I can't say for sure, but I think they made some progress with each other out there."
"I certainly hope so!"
"Me too." He tapped the cookbook. "You were really going to bake cupcakes weren't you?"
Arla felt the blush creep up her face. He full well knew she had been ready to bake cupcakes.
Tommy laughed. "Well, I never have complained about your method of stress relief."
Punching him gently in his middle, which had grown slightly more ample over the past few years, Arla said, "Maybe we need to take up running again."
"I have a doctor's excuse." He grinned, patting his left knee. "I can't run anymore."
Rolling her eyes, Arla said, "You were supposed to back off after surgery, not give it up entirely."
"So you'd start running with me again if I got back into it?"
"Shut up." She smacked him in the arm this time. It was no secret that she hated running with a vengeance. Running had been his preferred brand of stress relief, not hers.
He laughed and pulled her closer for a kiss. Settling into his embrace, Arla couldn't help but stare at the clock and think about how long the boys had been upstairs and what they might need and-
"Go check on them," Tommy said softly, brushing his hand through her hair and kissing her forehead.
Straightening up, she asked, "You think I should?"
"I think you should," Tommy replied, squeezing her hand. "It's been long enough now that they're probably feeling a little less overwhelmed."
Arla nodded. She'd given them their time, now she needed to assure herself that they were ok. She stood up and said, "You should go ahead and get some sleep, Tommy. I may not come back to bed tonight."
"I was already figuring we might be taking shifts for the next few days. Take your time. Holler if you need me."
"I will."
Arla headed upstairs, not sure what to expect. Everything was quiet as she walked up the stairs. There was a pale light from the first bedroom and she paused just before she reached the doorway. She didn't hear anything and decided to take a chance and push open the half-closed door.
The radio was off for the first time in days and only the little lamp on the nightstand lit the room. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head resting in his hands. There were several balled up tissues on the floor at his feet and she could hear his congested breathing from the doorway.
Looking beyond Dean's miserable form, Arla saw Sam sound asleep on the bed behind him. Even in sleep, he looked drained and sick. But he also appeared to be sleeping comfortably and deeply which was as much a relief as it was a surprise. Attention returning to Dean, Arla hovered in the doorway. She was uncertain if she should make her presence known or not. But she couldn't leave him sitting there. He needed to sleep as much as his brother did.
"Dean?" she whispered, taking a step into the room.
He didn't look up. It took three steps closer and two more times calling his name before he lowered his hands. Bloodshot eyes peered up at her and Arla knew Tommy had hardly been exaggerating when he'd said Sam looked healthy compared to his brother. Arla wanted to wrap Dean up in a big hug and then tuck him into bed for a month. He looked awful. She pulled the desk chair over in front of him and sat down, resting her hand on his arm.
"Dean?"
He didn't respond, but held her gaze. She squeezed his arm and waited. He was struggling to remain upright and she could see the bright flush of fever on his face. Being outside had not been good for him and neither was sitting up all night.
"Honey, you need to lie down now," she whispered.
He shook his head slowly and looked away.
Arla touched his cheek and drew his gaze back. "Dean, you're sick. You need to sleep, just like your brother does."
"He...he took the pills," Dean said, frowning and turning to look at his brother.
"That's good. He needs to sleep."
Arla was surprised to hear that Sam had taken anything, but she was relieved that he had. He'd gone too long without sleep. She took a quick glance at him and knew it wouldn't be easy to get Dean away from his brother. But he needed to be in bed. She squeezed Dean's arm again.
"I'll stay with-" Arla started, but was interrupted before she could finish.
"I gave him...two of each kind." Dean's worried gaze returned to her. "Did I...was it too much?"
"What you did was fine. It's what I would have done, too. I think he'll sleep for awhile now."
"He still didn't want to take 'em."
"Sometimes what we want and what we need are very different things," Arla said gently. "You gave him what he needed."
Dean didn't look reassured. "It took him a long time to fall asleep-"
It hadn't really been that long but, to Dean, she was certain it had felt like forever. He was looking back at his brother and she knew he would sit there for the next week if she didn't intervene. Arla tried again, "It's time for you to lay down and get some sleep."
Dean looked up at her, his desperation bringing tears to her eyes as he whispered, "I need to be here."
"No. You don't need to be here." Arla shook her head, putting her hand against his overly warm cheek again. She blinked back the tears, smiled and said, "You want to stay with Sam, but you need to get some sleep. I will stay with him and I promise I will come get you if he needs you. Ok?"
"Arla-"
"Dean, the next few days are probably going to be very difficult for him." Arla decided to try a different tact. "He is going to need your support and you're not going to be able to support him if you don't take care of yourself."
It was obvious she wasn't getting through to him. Sighing, she gave actual, serious thought to the merits of slipping Dean an enthusiastic dose of a heavy sedative. Instead, Arla figured she could give him another minute while she ran downstairs for some Tylenol and a decongestant.
"You're running a fever so I'm going to go get you some Tylenol. Stay with him until I get back, ok?"
Dean didn't answer, but rested his head in his hands again. Knowing he would be there when she returned, Arla pushed herself to her feet to rush back downstairs. She found Tommy still in the kitchen and asked, "What are you doing?"
He turned around and she couldn't help but smile when she saw the cookie in his hand. Shrugging, Tommy said, "I got hungry."
"Well I suppose I can't argue with you on that. I'm a bit hungry, too."
"How's it going up there?"
"Sam's asleep; he took some of the medicine."
"That's good!"
"Yes, it is. Dean's reluctant to leave him, though." She selected the correct medications. "And he's running a fever again."
Tommy filled a glass with water for her. "I'm not surprised. What's your plan?"
"Get Dean to take the medicine and somehow convince him go to bed. I'm going to stay with Sam and you're going to get some sleep so you can take over tomorrow if need be while I get some sleep."
"Good plan. Do you want me to make you a cup of tea before I go back to bed?"
Arla gave him a kiss on her way by. "That would be amazing. Bring me up a cookie or two as well, ok?"
"Sure."
"Just give me a few minutes to try to get him settled," Arla said over her shoulder.
When she walked back into the room, Dean looked up. She smiled, holding out the glass and the pills. He stared at the glass for a moment, then reached for it. She gave him the pills and he downed them quickly, then gave the glass back.
Setting it on the bedside table, she sat back down in the chair in front of him again and said quietly, "Dean, I know this isn't easy, but you need to let me help you right now."
He was studying her silently, but not arguing so she continued.
"From everything you've told me, you boys are feeling very alone right now." She tried to be cautious with what she was saying, yet still get her point across. "It sounds like you've recently lost two very close, trusted friends. And Sam has been sick for a long time. Do you want to know what I think?"
Arla waited, but he remained silent. At least he's listening to me...
"I think your entire support system has collapsed and you're hanging on with everything you've got left to take care of your brother," she said, squeezing his hand. "Will you please let me and Tommy be your support system right now? Let me help you, Dean."
It took a full minute before he relented. He nodded, eyes closing and all the tension melting out of him. Catching him as he slumped forward, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. His head came to rest on her shoulder and she gently rubbed the back of his neck with her free hand as she listened to his labored breathing. After a few seconds, she felt him nod again and begin to straighten.
Backing off, she gave him a moment to gather himself, then she rose, pushed the chair out of the way, and held out a hand. Dean accepted it and she helped drag him to his feet. Arla caught him as he swayed where he stood and wrapped an arm around his waist. He settled his own arm over her shoulders. Watching him closely, Arla was relieved when he reopened his eyes and didn't pull away.
He looked back at his brother, and she wondered if he was going to change his mind. But then he started walking toward the door. She didn't let go of him as they walked. He paused in the doorway, his free hand braced on the door frame.
"Dean?"
"Yeah." He sounded out of breath.
She tightened her grip around his waist, feeling him trembling. "Not too much farther."
"Seems a lot farther...than it did earlier."
Arla smiled, hearing the humor in his tone. It took another minute before they started walking again and every step was slower than the last. He was leaning more heavily against her and she started to wonder if she shouldn't have had Tommy come up to help. Finally reaching the bed, Dean slumped down, breathing heavily.
"Dean?"
"I'm ok."
They both knew better, but she didn't comment.
He kicked his shoes off, looked up at her and said, "Let me know...if-"
"I'll come get you," Arla promised, piling up the pillows behind him. "I'll stay with him while you get some sleep. You're still very sick, young man. And I for one would appreciate not having to take you back to the emergency room again."
That earned her a tired smile. It faded quickly and he whispered, "Thank you. For everything."
"You're very welcome." Arla gently pushed him back toward the pillows and pulled the covers up over him.
He settled under them, eyes barely open. Grabbing two extra pillows from the closet, she eased him up a pinch more until he looked more comfortable and his breathing eased a little. Making sure the tissues were close to him, she hurried back into the other room to grab the glass of water. Dean forced his eyes open when she walked back in and he watched as she placed the glass on the nightstand.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Arla smiled and said, "If you need anything tonight, I'll just be across the hall. Do not hesitate to call me if you need me. Understood?"
He gave her a quick thumbs up, already more asleep than awake.
Squeezing his hand and tucking the covers around him, she whispered, "Now, go to sleep."
One breath later and he did just that.
All she could hope now was that both of them were finally going to get some of the rest they desperately needed.
Yeah! Arla finally got to mother one of them and tuck him up into bed! :D Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
