Hi everyone! I am back with another chapter! So sorry for late update, I went on holiday and forgot to bring my computer! Didn't mean I stopped writing though! As promised it is getting more exciting especially in this chapter!
WARNING: there are rather graphic panic attacks in this chapter, so read at your own risk! Also there is a lot of language in this chapter too lol, for spoilers nothing to bad really just the same, the worst spoilers are probably for season 9. :)
Muffinroo thank you so much for your sweet and kind words! You have no idea how happy they make me! I really appreciate all the feedback you have given me 3
Chapter four is close to being done, but until then here is chapter three!
Chapter Three
Dean closed another useless book. That was the fifth one this hour, and he was starting to get irritated. Sam had kept true to his word though. Once they returned to the bunker they started to research the new ghost sickness, just in case Sam did get sick. They had been home for a total of 6 hours, 15 since the incident, and 9 hours left until it would have hit the 24 hour mark. The ghost touched Sam at 7:15pm, and it was currently 10:15am the next day. Still it felt longer than 15 hours.
Ugh so many friggin numbers. Maths has never been Dean's forte. Rubbing his eyes, he stifled a yawn. He was going to fall asleep at this rate, he hadn't slept since Sam got touched. But sleep was never an option when Sam was in any possible danger. Sighing he stood up and headed to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, with maybe a dash of alcohol.
SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN
Sam was lying in his bed, trying to let sleep claim him. He had given up research a few hours before Dean, realizing it made things worse. He kept telling himself that everything was fine, and that they were worrying over nothing. But deep down, in a place he often tried to ignore, was a scared little kid. One who just learned about the things that go bump in the night. The kid who would crawl into Dean's bed after a nightmare, clinging onto him, feeling the automatic relief knowing nothing could get him, while he was with his big brother. The part of him where he believes everything Dean says, and would do everything he said. That part of him never left. And right now it was trying to tell him that he should listen to Dean. He never joked about his health. So why would he start now?
Ugh
There were many reasons why he didn't want Dean to be right. Most of them were obvious, but there was one big reason why. The last time he was sick with a supernatural illness was the trials, Which nearly killed him, leading to Dean making a frantic deal. Again. Which resulted in them splitting up and Dean getting the mark, becoming a demon and so on, until Sam risked everything to get his Dean back, but his actions caused the darkness to rise. So yeah forgive him if was getting a little paranoid over this sickness.
He stopped his train of thought. I'm not paranoid, I'm not scared, I'm fine. He rubbed a hand over his face, confused when he felt perspiration running down his forehead. His hands felt clammy and he swallowed, a nervous feeling took a home in his stomach. Trying to reassure himself that he was ok, he rested his hands on his chest when he felt his heart beating frantically. He tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down, but it wasn't working. He felt cold, and as he
sat up he was overcome with a dizziness, that had him swallowing back whatever was trying to come up. He started to gag, and his breathing became uneven, feeling his heart hammer against his rib-cage, chest tightening from lack of oxygen, and god damn it, despite it all, he felt scared.
No. Nonononono this can't be happening. Not yet, not now!
He knew he still had 9 hours left till anything should happen, but the only thing he could think of was Dean. He wanted his big brother.
"Dean!" He tried to call his name but it came out strangled, and weak. He stood up, wheezing, to try and find Dean, but the world spun and before he knew it he was falling on the ground with a loud thump. A sharp pain hit his head and he saw blood dripping on the floor, blinding him. His panic escalated, and he gave one final cry for help, before it all became too much, and a black abyss overtook him.
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Dean was sitting on the table drinking from a coffee mug. It did have coffee in it, at one point, but then he switched to pure liquor. It was his fifth refill of gods know what. As long as it burned on the way down, and helped numb the pain of life, he would drink it.
He swallowed the rest in his mug and went to refill it, when he heard a loud thump coming from down the hall.
"Sam?" He called out. Hearing nothing in return he stood up to go check out the noise. He stumbled a bit, and cursed. Whatever he was drinking, it was strong. Then he heard a strangled cry of his name. He knew that voice, knew it far too well. The fear and adrenaline that rushed through him sobered him instantly. He started to run to Sam's room, and was chanting under his breath a series of,
Shitshitshitshit, please be ok, please don't be dead.
His brain went to every possible bad case scenario when it came to Sam in peril, and it wasn't failing him now. He skidded round the corner and pulled his gun from his back, kicking open the door. His eyes scanned the room for any danger, he didn't find any. He also didn't find Sam. Until he looked down, and saw a heap of Sasquatch, with blood running freely from his head. His heart dropped, and he felt the blood drain from his face
No, oh god no.
He dropped to his knees, and immediately went to check for his pulse. Dropping his head in relief when he felt one, it was a little too fast for his liking, but a pulse was a pulse. He went to pull Sam into his lap, but stopped, too afraid he would make things worse with the gash in his head. Instead he grabbed a handkerchief from his back pocket, and pressed it gently to his head. Feeling Sam stir from the pressure.
"Sam?" He whispered, uncertainty drenching the name. Sam groaned in pain and his eyes fluttered open, as Dean smiled a smile of pure relief, and gave him words of encouragement.
"That's it Sammy, open your eyes, come on," Sam opened them all the way and searched the room till his eyes landed on Dean, his eyes sparked with relief at seeing his brother. He felt calm at seeing him, not at all like a few minutes ago. He knew that as long as Dean was here he would be ok.
"D'n?" He mumbled trying to sit himself up right.
"Yeah, I'm here Sammy, easy man, you hit your head pretty hard." Dean used a soft, almost soothing voice, as he helped Sam sit up and lean against the bed. He squeezed his neck affectionately when Sam let out a small whimper of pain at the wound on his head.
"I'm going to get the med kit and see if I can't do anything about the gash, you stay here ok" He was given nothing but silence,
"Sam?" The name said with a little more forcefulness.
"Hm, what yeah ok," his eyes had a glassy look, Dean wasn't even sure he knew what he was saying. As he went out the door he saw that Sam had this kicked sad puppy look. He wasn't sure if the look was from being hurt or being left alone.
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Sam sat alone in his room, with a handkerchief pressed against his head. He pulled the cloth away to see that it had been drenched red in his blood.
Huh, who would have thought his desk was so sharp. Someone should really dull it down. Maybe he should ask Dean to do it.
Crap, I'm out of it. Dulling down his desk? He wouldn't be surprised if he had a slight concussion. When he falls, he falls hard. Moving away from the desk topic, Sam began to think about his next pressing matter; what had caused his outbreak of fear? It wouldn't strike 24 hours for another… he looked at the clock on the side wall,
No…
His clock showed 7:15. It had been 24 hours.
Crap, shit, oh fuck! Sam felt his heart go erratic again, he felt trapped, -like he did in the cage-, he was sweating but he felt cold. It was happening again, he was going to die. He didn't want to die, not yet, there was still too much left to fix between him and Dean.
Dean
God did he want his brother. But he wasn't here. He had left. Why did he leave? Had he finally realized that he didn't want him anymore, he was just another burden, designed to cause Dean nothing but pain and suffering. It was the same story over and over again, he would try to do something right only to either trust a demon setting the devil free, or trusting a never used before spell setting the darkness free. He wanted, no, needed Dean back.
"DEAN!"
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Dean was heading back to Sam's room with the med kit in hand, when he heard a broken but fearful shout for him.
Oh god not again. He broke into a run, not stopping until he was at Sam's door. Dropping the kit on the floor, Dean rushed to Sam's side, who seemed to be,
having a pretty bad panic attack.
"Sam? Sammy hey hey hey, look at me." He gently lifted Sam's chin so he was looking directly at Dean. He was unsurprised to see a few tears escape Sam's eyes. He always got emotional when he was sick, or exhausted. And right now Dean guessed he was slap bam right in the middle of both. Still it doesn't mean it didn't crumple his heart a little on the inside when it does happen. He gently brushed the tears away, when he heard a whimper escape Sam's lips. His breathing became even shallower than before, and started to pull himself out of Dean's grip, hugging his knees and hanging his head down. Silent wrecks of sobs tour out him, while simultaneously shaking with either fear or coldness, he wasn't sure.
Dean just watches in shock, unsure what to do. What would cause this reaction? There was still 8 hours left until there would have been any sign of fear. Dean cast his eyes around the room trying to exploit anything that would result in Sam behaving like this. Then his eyes landed on the clock.
Ah fuck. The clock showed 7:15. But that clock had been broken for weeks. It had been on his to-do list to fix, but never had time due to either being a demon, or trying to find the darkness. Typical luck that it stopped at 7:15, but with their crappy luck he wasn't that surprised. turning his attention back to a panic attack induced brother, he gripped his elbows and pulled him into his chest. Sam's head leaning on Dean's shoulder, his nose resting on the soft spot on his neck. He felt Sam's hand curl and grip onto his shirt tightly.
"Alright" he muttered gently, "Alright, hey," he threaded his hand through his hair as Sam struggled to get a full breath in. He reached his other hand down to try and find,
"Where's your hand?" He muttered. Trying to keep calm and composed, fingers climbing down his right arm, the one that was closest and not already occupied with clutching Dean's shirt, with a failing controlled franticness. "Give me your hand Sammy" he asked so softly that he wasn't even sure he heard him.
Then he felt Sam's hand snake up his chest. He grabbed it and placed it over his own chest. "You feel that?" He murmured, settling his cheek on the side of Sam's head. "Breathe with me Sammy, just breathe," He inhaled and exhaled to try and set up an easy rhythm for him to follow.
Sam tried to follow the pattern of Dean's breathing, through his own loud strained wheezes.
Up, down, in, out. Tears rushed down his cheeks, and he squeezed them shut, focusing on the motion of Dean's chest, hoping to slow down his own rapid heartbeat. Soon the regularity of it gradually washed the panic away.
After a few minutes, once Sam gained more control, his heart no longer trying to bust out of his rib-cage, and the threatening loom of fainting had passed. Dean started to encourage him, "Thats it Sammy, you're doing good, just keep breathing," he then dragged a hand up to Sam's neck just below the hairline and gently massaged the area. "Shhh….everything is going to be ok, I've got you little brother, I've got you."
And done! Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me! Once again I am ever so sorry for the wait, more chapters will be up soon. Please leave me a review letting me know what you think :) Have a wonderful day,
-OnceUponaKitten