Disclaimer on previous chapter.
Here's the next installment. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. This delves into Dean's feelings, and chick-flick moments abound. I realize it might be out of character, and I'm sorry if anyone is offended. I have a real flare for the dramatics. Enjoy!
All of a sudden, there was a flurry or activity. Dean broke out of the negative mind set that he had been allowing to overcome him and looked at the scene unfolding before him. His brother's vital signs were slipping. Panic overtook him for a brief moment as he watched the doctor's try to save his baby brother. He stepped back, dazed, until he hit the wall behind him, listening to the doctors call out vital stats.
"BP 80/30 and falling. Resp. down to 80. We gotta get this kid stabilized!" The one woman doctor yelled over the flurry of activity. He knew he should have done something the moment Sam started to get sick, knew it more than anything now, as he watched them try to save him.
'Please God, please, if you save him, I'll do anything. I'll go to church, and won't think any bad thoughts...for a while. Just please don't let me lose him.' He thought in his head, as the tears that had been threatening to fall made their way down his face. Just as suddenly as the activity had begun, it ended. Dean didn't know what was going on, but he noticed that they had his brother's vitals back up. He would be okay for now. 'Okay, God, what I said about the church and the bad thoughts...You know we were still in negotiations, right? Right?'
Sam lay on the hospital bed, hooked up to all kinds of machines that Dean didn't know, looking so lost. He did notice that the hose running under his nose was oxygen, though, and that thought alone sobered him up. It had deteriorated so bad that his Sammy needed to be helped by oxygen.
"Son, you need to wait out in the waiting room." The doctor tried to argue.
"No, I need to wait right here with him," He started, beginning to exude the belligerence that he had once, so long ago, told Sam was his thing.
The doctor sighed, knowing from Dean's stance that he was in a losing battle, and it would be best to just let things go.
"Doctor, what's wrong with him?" Dean asked, hoping that it was something simple that could be diagnosed just by looking at him. It had to be, right?
"We don't know yet. Look, we're going to admit him, run some tests, and get his medical records. I'll tell you more when I know more." The man said, before leaving the room to go start the admitting process.
Dean hated this, the not-knowing. He liked to be Superman in his brother's eyes. How many times had he saved him? Enough to be considered a super-hero? Obviously not, because he wasn't able to stop this. He walked back over to his brother, standing beside him and laying one hand on his feverish forehead. He looked over Sam's body, noticing the many bruises. There were the obvious ones around his neck from the extension cord in their old house, and the bruises that he had on the side of his face from Dean's own blows to him when they were at the Asylum, but there also were ones that he could not explain. There was the bruises that had occurred when the shape shifter had beaten him, bruises that should have disappeared a long time ago, and ones that he couldn't identify where they came from. Little red marks also scoured his skin, so small that the normal person would never have known them, but he was looking. In retrospect, it all looked ominous, like some demon waiting to steal Sam away from him.
Sam had been really tired lately, always complaining that they needed a rest. The nightmares had gone, and now he slept almost too much. 'Maybe if I had let him sleep more, this wouldn't be happening,' Dean rebuked himself, still trying to convince himself that it was something simple like exhaustion. Not to mention that he always seemed to have the sniffles.
Tonight had been bad, though, really bad. Sam told Dean that he had a headache before they headed out to get the werewolf. By the time they reached the woods where the thing would have been, Sam said that his headache was so bad that he could barely stand. It was blinding him. Dean regretted the comments he made, asking him if it was something to do with the Shining and bringing up that the little kid in the movie had seizures. Sam had ignored him, and kept on pushing forward. They hadn't yet found the thing when Sam looked back at him, tilted his head in confusion, and crumpled to the ground. Dean had picked up his boney body and ran with him back to the car. Sam had regained consciousness in the car, but Dean wouldn't let him get up.
Now, looking down at Sammy, he felt a rush of feelings that he had never learned how to name come over him. What was wrong with him? Stepping out to the hallway, he left his sleeping brother to go call their dad. He needed to be here, to let Sammy know he was there and that he cared. Their dad had always been there when either of them got sick.
Hope you enjoyed. If you have any constructive criticism, please feel free to tell me. There will probably be another chapter tomorrow or the next day.
Happy hunting!