Hi, meant to have this up a long time ago. here it is at last...

No. 29: I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR

prompt options: Intubation, Emergency Room, Reluctant Bedrest

setting: preseries. Dean 17, Sam 13. continuation from prompt #6 and prompt #21

Sam had been injured in a warehouse with a piece of rebar in his leg that Dean had secured and then taken him to the hospital. This takes place a few days after the last scene...

Sam stared at the wall. Then the ceiling. Then, just for the fun of it, the other wall. He was bored. No, he was beyond bored. He'd been bored three days ago. Yesterday he'd gone stir crazy and now he was pretty sure he was just plain losing his mind.

He'd finally been released from the hospital yesterday and Dean had settled them into what was actually a nice motel. Nice or not, it was boring.

The television was on, but he wasn't paying any attention. Over the last week he'd already watched just about everything on every single channel. It was all completely boring. The television was only on to provide some background noise in the otherwise silent room.

Sighing, his gaze roved the room again. There was a stack of books on the nightstand next to him, but he couldn't focus on reading. His eyes were hot and the words got blurry after only a couple minutes. It was frustrating and he'd already thrown one book across the room. It was behind the dresser and he'd have to try to remember to ask Dean to dig it out when he got back.

Speaking of which...Sam frowned, trying to remember where Dean had gone. Memory completely useless, he patted the bed around him until he found the motel notebook. Rubbing his eyes, he squinted until he could make out Dean's note.

Grocery run. Left at 1:30 PM. Stay in bed!

The last bit was underlined multiple times.

He smiled at his brother's bossiness. The smile faded pretty quickly when he considered the reason for the command. He wasn't supposed to get up on his own. Relegated to mandatory bedrest, he wanted nothing more than to get up and do something, but he'd already tried that earlier when Dean had been in the shower.

Dean hadn't been amused in the slightest when he'd walked out of the bathroom to find Sam crumpled on the carpet, biting back a groan, tears leaking from his tightly closed eyes, both hands wrapped around his throbbing leg.

He'd just wanted to get out of the stupid bed for a few minutes. Despite how much progress he'd made, getting up on his own without Dean's assistance had been a lot more difficult than he'd anticipated. He'd only made it a couple steps before he'd gone down hard.

The tongue lashing he'd received had been relatively mild and Dean had been excruciatingly gentle as he'd helped Sam back to bed and gotten him settled with his leg elevated on a couple pillows. Sam had been hurting badly enough that he would have agreed to anything Dean said so long as he got a painkiller. Dean had doped him up but good and settled an icepack on top of his throbbing leg.

From there, things had gone fuzzy, but he remembered Dean putting his cell phone in his hand before he'd left for the store. Fumbling with the bedding again, he found the phone and glanced at it. The time on the phone was quarter after two. Probably wouldn't be much longer until Dean returned.

Sam let the phone and the notebook drop back to the bed, too exhausted to keep his eyes open.

It was actually scary how quickly he tired. Dean had told him over and over that he was lucky to be alive. That the infection in his leg had spread and the sepsis had nearly killed him. That it was ok if he slept a lot because he was still recovering.

Sam didn't have a lot of clear memories of the past week, but it was obvious from the way Dean hovered over him that it had been bad. Really bad. It was probably just as well that he didn't remember all of it. What he did remember was a jumbled nightmare of agonizing pain and complete disorientation.

Shifting a little, trying to find a comfortable position, he sighed. Nothing was comfortable. Everything was sore and stiff. He shoved at the covers, suddenly overheated despite the ice pack on his leg. The notebook tumbled to the floor along with the tv remote, but he caught his phone in time. Even with the covers pushed away, he couldn't get comfortable. Rolling to his side was agony, but once he was on his side, one pillow trapped between his knees, it was almost worth it.

Almost.

His back felt a little better, but the ice pack had fallen off his leg, and the movement had stirred up a fresh bout of nausea. He closed his eyes, fingers tightening on the edge of the bed. He would not throw up. He'd been sick to his stomach most of yesterday, but the last time he'd thrown up had been in the hospital and he was absolutely not going to start that again.

Concentrating on not throwing up was as exhausting as everything else and he drifted into darkness.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was just above a whisper, his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Dean?" Sam struggled to get his heavy eyes open. "You're back."

"Been back for a few hours."

"You have?"

Dean smiled. "You were sleeping hard when I got back."

"Time's it?"

"Time for your antibiotics or I would've let you sleep longer." Dean patted his shoulder, standing up from a crouch. "It's almost six. Time for something to eat and your meds. How're you feeling?"

Sam closed his eyes, sorting through the sensations. Stiff, sore, and still hot. He yawned, then looked up at his brother and said, "Fine."

"Liar liar pants on fire," Dean said, tsking as he shook his head. "You look terrible."

"Thanks." Sam rubbed his eyes, uncoordinatedly shoving at the blanket. "Too hot."

"Yeah, because your fever is up again." Dean frowned, his hand on Sam's forehead. "Tylenol and antibiotics. Come on, let's get you settled."

Dean did all the work of course, moving bedding and pillows to his satisfaction. Sam just let him do whatever he wanted and tried not to throw up. By the time he was settled against a pile of pillows and Dean had adjusted the blankets just right, he was dizzy and considering another nap.

"Stay awake." Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face.

"I'm tired." It would have been embarrassing how whiny he sounded if he actually felt well enough to care.

"I know."

"And I'm bored."

Dean squeezed his shoulder. "I know you are."

"I can't get out of bed and I can't even read a book and the tv sucks and I'm sick of feeling so crappy and my leg hurts!"

His voice cracked at the end and it was all he could do to hold back the tears.

"Oh my gosh, you are so grumpy!" Dean exclaimed. "You want some cheese to go with that whine?"

"You're a jerk," Sam said, wiping a hand over his face. He tried to pull himself together, grateful to his brother for the distraction his teasing provided.

"And you're a whiny little bitch." Dean grinned, mussing his hair more gently than he ever would have on a normal day. He sobered, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Hey, I know this sucks, Sammy. It's just gonna take some more time."

Sam nodded.

"Alright. So. Assuming you still aren't hungry and don't want to eat, what can we compromise on that you will eat?"

"Dunno." Sam rolled his head against the pillow glancing toward the little kitchenette. "What'd ya bring me?"

"A variety." Dean smiled. "Soup, which yes I know you're sick of, but it's easy on your stomach. Jello. Applesauce. Mac and cheese. Stuff to make PB&J, including bananas. Some ice cream."

"Ice cream?"

"Chocolate or vanilla."

"Chocolate."

"Really?" Dean asked, a bit of the ever present worry fading from his eyes. "You'll eat some ice cream?"

"Yeah. Sounds good."

"Alright. Ice cream coming right up."

Sam really wasn't hungry, but taking pills on an empty stomach was a recipe for disaster and Dean looked positively thrilled about him being willing to eat. He'd had to be able to eat in order to leave the hospital and that had been a battle.

The ice cream actually didn't sound too bad, so hopefully he could choke it down.

He caught sight of another bag on the table while Dean was scooping ice cream into a cheap plastic bowl.

"What's that?" he asked.

Dean turned, frowning, then followed his gaze. A smirk spread over his face as he said, "Oh that? That's nothing."

Obviously it was something.

"Deeeean," Sam full on whined, not in the mood to play along.

Dean rolled his eyes. He snagged the bag as he walked over. Dumping the bag carefully on the bed next to Sam, he said, "I know we've watched just about everything known to man in the past few days, but it's Halloween in two days so I figured it was time for a marathon."

Sam peered into the bag. It was full of VHS tapes from Blockbuster.

"We got Ghostbusters, The Blob," Dean listed off, putting something into the microwave, "Christine, Arsenic and Old Lace-"

"Arsenic and Old Lace?" Sam looked up in surprise.

Dean shrugged. "What can I say? It's funny."

Sam smiled. It was funny. He looked through the rest of the tapes, then asked, "How'd you get Blockbuster tapes?"

"I got a membership." Dean grinned, exchanging the bag of tapes for the bowl of ice cream.

"You did?" Sam took the bowl of ice cream.

"Sure. Why not? Now, we can rent movies anywhere." Dean started stacking the VHS tapes on the TV stand. "What do you want to start with?"

"Ghostbusters."

Dean grinned. "That's what I thought. Ok, deal is you eat that ice cream and take your pills like a good little invalid and then we'll watch the movie."

"Deal," Sam said around a mouthful of ice cream.

Nodding, Dean put Ghostbusters in the VHS player under the TV. He went for the pills and a glass of water. Once Sam had taken the pills, Dean picked up the remote from the floor and handed it over. The microwave beeped and he went back to the kitchen. A moment later, he settled on the bed with a bag of popcorn.

Sam had only managed to get the TV on by the time Dean sat down. He dropped the remote in Dean's lap and leaned his head back against the pillows, the bowl of ice cream loosely held in his hands.

"You're not poopin' out on me already, are you?" Dean asked, elbowing Sam.

"No."

"Uh huh." Dean started the video then opened the bag of popcorn. "You're supposed to eat all that ice cream; that was the deal."

"Just takin' a break."

"You're not going to make it through the movie," Dean said, amusement in his tone.

"Will too." Sam forced himself to pick up the spoon and start eating the ice cream again.

"I'll believe it when I see it."

Sam licked the spoon as the movie started. He wanted to insist he wouldn't fall asleep but it would be a losing bet.

"It's ok, Sammy," Dean said, popcorn spilling as he grabbed a handful. "We've got three days to watch the movies."

"Good thing." Sam yawned. "Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome. Finish your ice cream."

"Can I have some popcorn?"

Dean held the package out.

Sam grabbed a small handful.

Maybe he wouldn't make it through the entire movie. Probably he would still be in pain and miserable tomorrow. But he definitely couldn't have made it through the past week without his brother.

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!

tomorrow's theme/prompts: No. 30: NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal, Ignoring an Injury, Internal Organ Injury