Raising Winchesters
Chapter 29
Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit.
Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit.
Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit.
Those words kept playing over and over again in the heads of the three hunters. Of course, they understood the translation of the words.
Heartbeat and every breath diminishes.
They understood the words. What they didn't understand, though, was exactly how those words would play out for Dean. It was obvious that the boy was getting sicker with every passing second. It was obvious that every breath he took was harder than the last, every heartbeat perhaps the tiniest bit weaker than the one before. Most of all, it was obvious that they were running out of time.
John had slept for almost a full hour before he was woken up by Dean's thrashing next to him. Sam was awake, too, his eyes darting between his brother and father. Bobby and Jim were still in the room, but had moved over to the corner of the room where they were still discussing everything that had happened.
John sat up and quickly pulled Dean into his lap, trying to wake the boy up. Dean was covered in sweat and his whole body was trembling. He was looking around the room, but John could tell that his eyes really weren't focusing on anything. In fact, Dean's eyes were glazed over so much that John wasn't even sure he was seeing anything.
"Dean? Dean, wake up, kiddo. Wake up."
Dean stiffened slightly in his arms and his head turned towards his dad's voice. John could see a beginning panic forming in Dean's eyes and he quickly motioned for Sam to move forward. Sam immediately moved forward until he was directly in front of his brother. John motioned for Sam to talk to his brother.
"Dean?" Sam's small voice broke the otherwise stillness of the room. John, Bobby, and Jim all waited to see if Dean would respond to his brother. When he didn't, John motioned for Sam to keep talking. "Dean? It's me. It's Sam."
Dean's head moved towards the sound of Sam's voice and a few seconds later, his eyes found his brother's face. John could almost see the exact moment Dean realized what he was looking at.
"Sammy?" he whispered weakly.
"Yeah, it's me, Dean. I'm right here."
"Sammy…." Dean reached his hand out towards his brother. Everyone could see his body relax slightly when Sam reached out and grabbed it.
Everyone kept their eyes on Dean. Eventually, his eyes closed again and John could feel his body completely relaxing against him. It was a short period of relaxation, though, because just minutes later Dean's body started convulsing.
John tried desperately to hang onto his son, but Dean's arms and legs were practically flailing everywhere. Bobby surged forward to help and Jim immediately scooped Sam up off of the bed.
"John! Lay him down on the bed," Bobby commanded. It took everything John had in him to let go of his son, but he knew it would be safer for both Dean and himself to let the boy be untethered.
"Bobby! What do we do?" he asked frantically.
"Make sure he doesn't throw himself off the bed, John. And watch his head."
They all watched helplessly as Dean continued to thrash around for at least a full minute. It felt more like an hour to them, especially when they started to see blood streaming from his mouth. By this time, Sam was sobbing loudly in Jim's arms and John was seconds away from joining him.
"Daddy! Help him!" Sam sobbed, but John knew that there wasn't anything he could do. He hadn't ever felt so helpless in all of his God-forsaken life.
Eventually, Dean's body stopped convulsing, but then he was so unnaturally still that it seemed even more unsettling. Bobby left the room, returning half a minute later with a wet washcloth. He handed it over to John and watched as John ran the cool cloth over Dean's face. After a few minutes, he turned to leave the room.
"Where are you going?" John asked before he'd even reached the door.
"We need help, John," Bobby answered simply. "I'm going to make a call."
John started to ask more questions, but Bobby just walked out the door.
It was almost thirty minutes later when Bobby returned to the room. He quickly took in the sight of Dean unnaturally still on the bed, Sam clinging to Jim's body, and John staring at Dean as if no one else was in the room. It took John several seconds to even recognize the fact that Bobby was back in the room.
"How is he?" Bobby asked, but John ignored his question.
"Who did you call, Singer?"
Bobby shared a look with Jim before answering. "Mathison."
"What the hell, Bobby?! Why would you call him?"
"Dean needs help, John. More than any of us can give him."
"We don't need his help."
Bobby almost laughed at the pathetic look on his face, but then he was suddenly overcome with anger at John's stubbornness. "Damn it, Winchester! Can't you put your foolish pride aside for one single second and think about your son? We don't have a lot of options here!"
John was quiet for all of five seconds. When he looked back up at Bobby, he had a look of total defeat in his eyes. "You're right, Bobby. You're right. Dean comes first. Before anything."
"You're damn right, I'm right," Bobby growled. His face softened, though, after seeing how wrecked his friend looked. "Anyway, he'll be here by morning. I filled him in as much as I could over the phone, but there's still a lot to tell him."
"Thanks, Bobby." John turned his attention back to his son. "What do we do until then?" he asked. Jim and Bobby could hear the complete exhaustion in his voice.
"We try to get some rest," Jim answered. "As much as we can, at least."
John stood up and took Sam from Jim. Without another word, he crawled onto the bed, putting Sam down on one side of him, and pulling Dean into the other side.
Fortunately for everyone, Dean slept through the rest of the night without any issues. John woke up to find sunshine peeking in through the cracks in the curtain and, except for him and Dean, an otherwise empty room. He could hear voices downstairs, but couldn't make out exactly who he was hearing, which left him in a bit of a conundrum.
He desperately needed to know that Sam was safe, but he also didn't want to leave Dean alone for even a single second. As if someone was reading his mind, he suddenly heard footsteps on the stairs. When the door opened, he wasn't surprised to see Bobby looking at him.
"You're awake," Bobby said simply.
"Just woke up. Where's Sam?" John struggled to sit up in the bed without moving Dean too much.
"He's downstairs with Jim. Kid woke up hungry." Bobby stepped in and handed John a cup of coffee.
"Thanks, Bobby."
Bobby looked down at Dean, taking in the fine tremors and the gleam of sweat on his small body. "How's he doing?"
"Restless, but at least he's sleeping. Is Mathison here yet?"
Bobby sat down on the edge of the bed, still staring at Dean. "Not yet. He called about an hour ago and said he's about two hundred miles out. Asked me to put a big pot of coffee on for him."
John smiled at that, but didn't say anything.
"Look, John. I know things are…. strained between the two of you, but he really is the best man for the job."
John ran a hand over his tired face. "I know."
"Okay. And don't worry. I already gave him the talk, too. Told him to keep himself under control or else."
John smirked at that. "I'll play nice if he does."
"I guess that's all we can ask for, then."
John looked down at Dean and Bobby noticed the look of worry increase. "He hasn't been awake for hours, Bobby. Do you think we ought to try to wake him?"
Bobby couldn't help but be worried, too. What if Dean wasn't able to actually wake up? What if they thought he was just sleeping, but he was actually in a coma or something? "I don't know. He needs to rest, but…Maybe just stir him up a little?"
John put the coffee mug down on the bedside table and then reached down to Dean. He rubbed Dean's shoulder and when that didn't work, he started to rub the side of his face. After a few less than gentle caresses, Dean moaned. "Hey. Dean, can you open your eyes, kiddo?"
Dean moaned again and turned his face away from John's hand. John's response to that was to just pull the boy in closer to his side. Both John and Bobby were relieved when Dean turned and snuggled in closer.
"That's good enough for me," Bobby said.
John silently agreed.
Bobby made his way upstairs an hour later with a plate of breakfast for John. He wasn't surprised to see that John and Dean were in almost the same position as when he left. The only difference was that the upper half of Dean's body was now draped across John's. And John was looking decidedly more uncomfortable.
"What's up, Johnny?" he asked with a laugh. He couldn't believe it when John actually blushed.
"Kid's been pressing on my bladder for the last hour."
Bobby laughed again, but moved to the bed and gently moved Dean off of his friend. Dean didn't stir at all. "There. Why don't you go take care of things? I'll stay here with the kid."
John stiffly moved off the bed, threw a long look at his son, and then made his way to the bathroom. Bobby wasn't surprised when he returned less than five minutes later. "John, I said take care of things. You need a shower, idjit."
John started to argue, but then decided against it. He knew he needed to clean up a little. And Dean was in good hands at the moment, so he just turned and went back to the bathroom. The hot water washed away all the dirt and grime he'd accumulated. It also washed away some of the achiness he'd been feeling in his bones. If only it could wash away some of the desolation and despair he was feeling.
Once he returned to the bedroom, he felt marginally better. And he knew he looked and smelled better, for sure. Dean was still in the same position as when he'd left, but he did notice that the boy was trembling a little more than before. "Any change?"
"Not really. He moaned a few times, but that was it." Bobby tried to hide his concern, but he couldn't. "He seems to be breathing a little shallower than before."
John immediately stepped over to look at his son. Dean's face was flushed, but there was an underlying paleness that frightened him. "What are we going to do, Bobby?" he asked desperately.
Bobby was just as scared as John was. He wouldn't ever admit it to anyone, but he loved the Winchester boys like they were his own. They had been a part of his life for so long and he couldn't imagine his life without them. Sam and Dean had changed him from a grumpy, bitter man with nothing to live for to a man who suddenly had everything to live for. Sure, he was still grumpy, but he wasn't bitter any more. His bitterness had been chased away by the sweet sound of a giggly Sam or the cocky bluntness of a carefree Dean.
Seeing one of the boys in a situation like this was almost more than he could bear. He wasn't usually one to be so pessimistic, actually. Usually, he was realistic and practical, yet still able to hang onto the barest shred of optimism. Especially where Sam and Dean were concerned.
But there was something about this situation that wouldn't allow that optimism to carry him through at all. He was pretty sure that he'd never before felt as much of a sense of despair as he did now. Dean was going to die, if they didn't figure this out. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. If they couldn't find a way to break the curse, Dean would fade away. Just like the curse said.
Every heartbeat and breath diminishes.
Every heartbeat and breath diminishes.
They were running out of time.
"We're going to figure this out, John. If it's the last thing we ever do, we're going to figure this out."
Author's note: Hope all is well for you. Please take care of yourselves and your families.
And thank you so much for reading and reviewing. I hope my stories can bring at least a little bit of enjoyment to you during these strange times.
Take care.