Dean Winchester was determined to enjoy today; one of very few days off that he had allowed from his chaotic and full to the brim life. Sammy was recovering from one heck of a trial and as much as he'd try and lie through his teeth about his current condition Dean knew his brother well enough to recognise when he wasn't on top form. He wasn't even close. With Kevin AWOL and no leads about the third trial, there wasn't a great deal to be getting on with and Dean had to admit, a short break would do him good after the recent emotional traumatic blows they'd faced. He planned on giving Baby some much needed tender loving care in the garage with a six pack and some tunes.
Dean laced up his boots in his beloved new bedroom having dressed in dark blue jeans, a black tee and a red and black flannel shirt. He hummed to Cutting Crews "Died in your arms" that was now going to be stuck in his head all day thanks to the eighties hour on the radio that morning. He didn't mind much though, that song in particular reminded Dean of a time long ago when a usually gruff and no nonsense John had downed one too many neat whiskeys and had stumbled back to their motel singing it at the top of his lungs. The look of confusion on a half asleep, twelve year old Sammy was priceless and Dean had laughed about it for days. John had never lived it down and murmured that he must have had his drink spiked whenever Dean mentioned it.
Dean chuckled at the memory, glad that there were some good times he could recall with the three of them together. Dean sighed at the far away sound of Sam coughing. The sooner the trials were over and the gates to hell were closed for good, the better as far as Dean was concerned. "Hey, Sammy you need a pat on the back?" Dean joked thought not loud enough for him to hear. The patented Dean Winchester way was masking his worry and concern with hilarious jokes and one liners. He'd hold his hands up and admit it though his "no chick flick moments" rule had gone out of the window on more that a few occasions in recent years. He wondered if maybe he was getting softer as he got older but then he realized it was more likely due to the fact both brothers had died a handful of times in front of each other in violent and ugly ways. Dean shrugged, what a weird life they led.
Noticing the bunker had gone eerily quiet, an unusual sensation of dread ran through the older Winchester. "Huh." he said simply before heading to find Sam. Gut feelings were not to be ignored as he'd learnt in the past.
Finding Sams bland but organised bedroom empty, Dean roamed the corridors and rooms as casually as he could. Sam did not enjoy being checked on.
"Seriously Sam? Still in the bathroom?" Dean said rolling his eyes when we saw the door closed. Sam considered a thirty minute shower short but hey maybe it was his size. It was a lot of area to cover after all and the shaggy mane atop of his head needed all kinds of attention judging by the ridiculous amount of money Sam put in to products to control it. Dean made a mental note to hide them all around the bunker and create a scavenger hunt for Sam once he was feeling more up to it.
Dean knocked on the door "Sammy?" he put his ear to the door but heard no running water or much of anything else for that matter. "Sam, you ok?" he asked a little louder with several more knocks. He tried the handle but found it, to no surprise locked. Dean huffed trying to remain calm. Maybe Sam had his headphones on. Shut up Dean, came a voice from his brain.
Dean fell silent when he heard a very quiet voice from inside the bathroom. "Dean?"
Relief flooded him. "Obviously. You good?"
"Uh, no." came Sams weak reply and that was all Dean needed to know.
He was in rescue mode and examined the door for weak points and checked if the lock was pickable. It was not. "Right." Dean said to himself. Nothing was ever simple. The doors in the men of letters bunker were sturdy and tough and the thought of using his body to try and break through one was not enjoyable or guaranteed to work. His best bet was to hastily grab his tools and get to it breaking the handle and lock completely.
"Sammy, you still there?" Dean checked as he skidded back to the door after a sprint to the garage.
"Yeah." Sam replied after a few seconds.
"Good, sit tight I'll be in soon, I just got to mess around with this lock for a minute. So what's going on huh?" Dean said trying to wedge the back of his hammer behind the handle. It was being very stubborn and required a lot of strength which caused that heavenly bacon sandwich to repeat on him terribly.
"Feel…crappy." Sams voice sounded breathless so Dean didn't push him with more questions.
"God, they don't build things like this anymore." Dean grunted feeling sweat gather on his forehead, a mixture of the workout he was in the middle of and a motherly worry for Sam who he had no clue what kind of state was in.
Dean heard a snort from the other side of the door. "You…sound…like…dad."
Dean scoffed unsure if Sam meant it as a compliment.
Finally after what seemed like an age the handle came away leaving Dean able to turn the lock and get the door open. "I'm coming in, you better not be naked!" Dean warned. The door was in a bit of a mess but that was nothing compared to how Sam looked.
"What the hell?" Dean said striding in and crouching in front of his brother who was sitting with his back up against the wall with one hand flat against his chest and the other laying limping beside him. His legs were spread out in front of him but his feet pushed against the ground in struggle. Sams head was tilted upwards as he breathed shallowly in attempts to quietly gasp in more air , his face incredibly pale but his lips and chin bright with blood. Dean swallowed, a flashback of Sam from his demon blood addiction days invading his head. He pushed the picture out of his mind and focused on what was in front of him. Baby brother was suffering.
His visual inspection didn't come up with much. He hadn't appeared to have hit anything which meant Sam was probably having some sort of internal issue, more than likely caused by the strain of that God damn second trial. Dean could feel the heat radiating off of Sam but he shivered at Deans hand on his forehead. A fever he could handle, the struggling for breath he wasn't so sure.
"Hey, hey, its ok, you got this. Here give me your hand." Dean asked. Sam looked worried but determined and did as he was told weakly lifting his hand for Dean to take in his own. Dean placed it flat against his own chest. "It's fine see. The problem is you're focusing on your own breathing and its making you panic. Focus on the in and out of mine and try and get yours to sync ok? If I'm here you've got nothing to worry about right?" Dean was pleased with how confident he sounded despite the growing concern and heartbreak at seeing Sam this way. That being said, it was crucial now that he himself was breathing as normal as possible in order to help Sam. He wasn't even sure if it would work.
Thankfully and as if by some miracle, Sams laboured breathing seemed to calm after a few minutes breathing and he just leaned left against the bathroom counter with his eyes closed. He was clearly exhausted.
"You think you can move?" Dean asked after a few extra minutes for good measure.
Sam would had obviously fallen asleep opened his eyes quickly. "Yeah, give me a hand?"
Dean leant forward and hooked his arm under Sams gangly ones and helped him to hoist up onto his wobbling body. "Just let me know if you think you're gonna faint huh? How are you feeling now?"
"Crappy." Sam repeated from earlier. "But a little better. Thanks." he added gratefully but Dean suspected the ordeal had left him a little embarrassed.
"Ah its nothing right? You've carried me home from plenty of hunts…and bars for that matter." Dean let out a slightly forced laugh in an attempt to make Sam feel better.
His brother had always tried to be independent but he was never the luckiest kid and was prone to so many illnesses when they were younger. That and the monsters always used to go for him first on hunts. Must've been those puppy dog eyes again. Sam certainly didn't like to rely on anyone when it came to his health and his determination from day one to do the trials almost felt like he was trying to prove something.
They hobbled together to Sams room and Dean helped lower the younger Winchester down to rest on his bed. Sam let out a cough or two and winced at the pain in his chest.
Dean frowned. "Maybe I should call a doctor."
Sam shook his head. "I'll be fine. There'll be nothing they can do anyway. After the last trial maybe…" He lowered himself back against his pillows, his hair still damp from the shower.
"Want me to blow dry that for you? Maybe find some irons?" Dean smirked gesturing the curls that were starting to form on Sams head.
Sam glared at him. He really did look like hell prompting Dean to locate some painkillers strong enough to knock his brother out for a while.
"I'm going to get you some water and pills. You gonna be ok? I mean you're not gonna fall off the bed or anything?"
Sam groaned in frustration but produced a slight smile that made Dean feel better.
Dean side smiled himself and wandered off to find the supplies he needed. He returned a few minutes later with a pint of water, a cool cloth and some tablets which he handed straight to Sam. "These are from my personal stash, the real good stuff that Bobby nabbed for me when I broke my leg. Enjoy." He said with a grin. Dean also handed him a very hastily made sandwich. He wasn't proud of the presentation but Sam needed food in him pronto. "Before you mock the filling, it's just salad and what was left of the cheese. Eat." Dean dragged a wooden chair and a cushion into Sams room and sat back on it with his feet up on the dresser making a start on an Auto magazine he'd bought during his last supply run.
Sam continued to stare at his brother "Urgh Dean, what are you doing? You know you don't have to-"
Dean shushed him pretending to be engrossed in the contents of his reading material and out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam slump in defeat and take a reluctant bite from his sandwich. He managed three bites in the end and although it wasn't as much as Dean had hoped for, he accepted it and took away the plate without a word. "Get some sleep Sammy, I'll be right here when you wake up." Dean ordered taking his seat again.
Sam didn't protest.
It was four in the afternoon when Sam blearily opened one eye and glanced at the clock. He felt dazed and still so tired so he rolled over and fell back to sleep for another two hours.
When he woke the second time, he was feeling much more rested though still not at full charge. Sam suspected he wouldn't feel normal again until his job was complete and what a depressing thought that was. Dean, as promised was still in that damn chair. He was leaned back against it so that two legs were off the floor and his boots were still up on the dresser. Sam frowned at the scuff marks but then smiled fondly at his borhters dedication to the mother hen role. Dean was busy watching a One Tree Hill box set he'd picked up at a bargain store along with a portable dvd player that constantly showed Chinese subtitles. Dean loved that show mainly for the scores of hot women but also the dramatic storylines that made him forget about their own issues for a while. When he saw Sam sitting up he quickly closed the lid of the dvd player as if Sam was unaware of his obsession.
"Hey! Good pills am I right?" he said standing up and feeling Sams forehead with his hand. There must have been some cause for concern as he handed Sam the glass of water and another pill. "Time for your next dose grandma."
Sam took it without fuss. "So you really sat there for what 8 eight hours plus?" Sam said, his throat a little scratchy.
"Well I obviously used the bathroom Sam and went to get snacks from the kitchen. Lots of snacks." Dean nodded to the floor which was littered with chip crumbs and candy bar wrappers.
"Dude, you better clean that up." Sam said in annoyance.
"In time. In time. I had to keep my strength up in case you decided to go all dramatic on me again." He said it jokingly but his face was stern and Sam could feel a good talking to was on its way.
"So now that you're dosed up, rested and partially fed, what the hell happened in there?" Dean began. The talking to had arrived earlier than Sam had anticipated.
"I don't know. One minute I was fine the next it felt like I was being bear hugged by Andre the Giant." Sam explained, though not as thoroughly as Dean probably hoped.
"Oh you were fine? Just fine?" Dean probed, his eye dark green eyes narrowing.
Sam sighed. "Well no, but-"
Dean shook his head and butted in. "And there it is. Sam we've been over this, you've gotta be honest with me man. How am I supposed to help you if you're hiding how you're really feeling?"
Sam looked away. "Dean you wouldn't understand-"
Dean interrupted again much to his brothers annoyance. "Why? Because I'm not the one doing the trials? Sam I was ready and willing, you know I was. You think this is the easier way for me? Because if so you couldn't be more wrong. Seeing you like this, going through whatever the hell this is, is worse than any trial I could be put through."
Sam swallowed feeling slightly ashamed. He'd promised Dean weeks back that he wouldn't try to hide what the trials were doing to him and at the time he'd meant it.
"I know and I'm sorry. I think maybe that's part of it. I don't like you seeing me like this and I was so sure I could handle this you know? I guess… I guess I feel like I'm failing."
"Sammy, you are handling this. Look at what you've done man. Nobody in this world could've done it better." Dean sat on the end of Sams bed. He was careful now not to raise his voice. "Sammy, we're partners, brothers, I have your back and you have mine right? That's how it goes."
Sam lifted his eyes to meet Dean. "What about Purgatory?"
Deans jaw clenched and he looked away for a second before confidently meeting Sams apologetic gaze. "What's done is done. We focus on the here and now. There's no mistake you might have made in the past or anything you might do in the future that would make me care any less about you Sam, regardless of how many schoolboy tantrums I may throw. I don't understand how you don't know that by now." he said it softly but Sam almost wished Dean had shouted it. Maybe it would have felt less heart wrenching to hear.
Sam let the words sink deep into his body and felt them curl around his insides as if taking root. "Okay." he said simply. What else was there to say.
"I mean it Sam. This stoic crap you're pulling ends now. You don't have to prove anything to me or anyone else."
Sam nodded along with every word solemnly feeling like a ten year old again after disobeying an order.
Dean continued, almost rambling on now to get his point across. "You're not alone in this. I've got faith in all you do, just call my name and I'll be there."
Just like that the weight of the serious conversation evaporated and Sam felt his shoulders shaking with laughter. Dean raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Well that's a little rude, I'm trying to be sentimental here."
Sam snorted, coughed and spluttered until he was finally able to speak. "Jackson five quotes now." he managed through sniggers.
Dean deadpanned, realizing he'd been found out. "I, you know, ugh. Never mind. I'm going to make you some soup." Dean stood up, his ears a little pink. "You're on bed rest until further notice by the way."
Sam was still grinning even after Dean had left the room. There was no doubt about it, he sure was damn lucky to have a brother like Dean.
As Dean emptied the can of tomato soup into the saucepan, he smiled to himself. So what if he'd quoted Jackson 5, it didn't change a thing. Whenever Sammy was concerned: "I'll be there." he said out loud proudly.
END
