A/N: Revised 6/19/2019! 3
Dean slammed into the storeroom and hit the lights, wide panicked eyes sweeping the area for medical supplies.
They had discovered the room a few weeks ago and Dean was positive he'd seen an old tank of oxygen in the pile of medical crap that hadn't been used for fifty some-odd years.
Dean found it again and just as he was about to leave, swore when his eyes caught on an old defibrillator. He snatched it too and dragged it with him outside, his pace picking up as he rushed back to the bedroom.
The hallways gleamed with polished wood, its own kind of sparkly clean magic working its way through the bunker in the wee hours of the morning. Dean slipped a few times as he was only wearing socks but he paid it no mind.
He knew nothing except blind fear for his little brother.
Several minutes earlier…
Sam blinked into the darkness, having woken up peacefully. He rubbed his eye free of sleep, totally forgetting his earlier affliction in the haze of half-consciousness. Dean had a hand on his chest monitoring him but it felt like affection too and Sam couldn't deny it filled something inside him that'd been running on empty.
Somewhere along the lines of trying to get back to sleep Sam realized his breathing was getting shallower. He attempted a deeper breath and discovered he couldn't take one. He was left nearly coughing, gasping several more shallow breaths, building enough fear to have it clamping down on him, transforming his lungs to lead and hyperventilating even as he desperately fought for just one smooth inhale of blessed air.
Dean remained completely unaware, sleeping silently next to him and it was so surreal that Sam hoped it was a nightmare. He had the distinct impression it wasn't.
As he suffocated, Sam offered weak hits and kicks trying to get Dean awake, wishing he could scream at his brother to wake up.
Finally, Dean blinked his eyes open in the dark, groggy and thinking Sam was just excited he had feeling back in his hands and feet again. Oblivious, he'd smiled and leaned into Sam. Sam rolled in to his brother's embrace and let out a choked keen against Dean's neck, pawing at his brother's shoulders. "Dee!" Sam rasped, breathless.
That's when the emergency of the situation finally penetrated Dean's sleep-fogged mind. Sam's pained breathless wheezes, hands grappling for him, heart beat going a mile a minute against Dean's chest as he leaned on him.
Dean shot up and turned over, bracing Sam down against the pillows. "Sam? Sammy?!"
Sam clutched his neck and shook his head frantically, eyes wide and teary.
"Did you eat something!?" Dean demanded. Sam shook his head again, still making small guttural choking noises. He was sweating now and Dean leaned closer to wipe his hair off his face. Sam gulped and closed his eyes, still wheezing.
"Okay. Relax. Panic attack?" Dean asked. Sam was struggling but technically he was still breathing.
Sam gasped and blinked back up at Dean, shaking his head for the third time under his brother's questioning. A second later Sam's eyes widened to saucers, the unknown pressure throttling him getting worse. His whole body seized with panic and tension, hands reaching out to Dean.
"Sam! Sammy!" Dean yelled angrily, "Hold on! Stay with me, damn it!"
Sam's dilated eyes drilled into Dean, blunt terror coming through as he suffocated, begging Dean to fix it. He gripped Dean's arms tighter, making small, spastic spurts of choking sounds under him. Dean watched, his own expression reflecting horror too for just a moment, terrified whether he was really watching his brother about to die by asphyxiating on air. He snapped out of it when he remembered the oxygen in the storeroom.
"I got it," Dean cried, "I'll be right back Sammy!" He had to leave the room, leave Sam alone as he suffocated, and as ridiculous as it was Dean gave Sam a rough kiss against his brother's temple. Sam let out a high-pitched wheeze in response before Dean ripped himself away from Sam and raced out.
Dean ran through the corridor with the aged equipment, misjudging as he turned the corner into his room and clipping himself against the side of the wall. He rushed to Sam and crouched to take a look at his brother. Sam was taking measured half-gasps about six seconds apart. Pale, weak, and sweaty he could barely list his head to look over at Dean. Sad brown eyes stared at him, scared but dulled now.
"Hey Sammy," Dean whispered, lips trembling as he placed a palm to Sam's cheek. Sam's eyes blinked slowly in response. He lifted his hand up but had to let it fall, unable to get the strength up.
"That's all right, Sam, don't worry," Dean murmured. He brushed Sam's hair back and turned the nozzle on the oxygen tank. "Hold on for me, just another second, Sammy," Dean added, pulling away from Sam and connecting the mask to the tank. He came back and cupped Sam's head before lightly placing the mask over Sam's mouth and nose.
"Okay breathe, breathe," Dean prayed softly, hovering a few inches over Sam's face and placing his free hand over Sam's chest. He watched the mask for misty condensation but it wasn't coming.
"C'mon, Sam!" He pushed, tilting the mask against Sam's face harder. Sam blinked and his eyes crinkled with stress. "Stop, no, Sam," Dean tried but Sam's eyes were already tearing up and Dean watched as a few fell down his face and into his hair. "No-no-no, it's okay Sam," Dean backtracked, "I'm not mad. I'm not mad. I need you to breathe, Sammy," Dean coaxed, pressing his palm against Sam's face.
Sam's eyes widened at him in frustration even as they brimmed with tears but he nodded.
Dean bit his lip uncertainly, hoping this was enough. After a minute or two, things seemed to be improving but Sam was still scared, his body taut with tension.
"Okay, how 'bout this…" Dean murmured and climbed over Sam, still holding the oxygen mask to his face. He settled, kneeling on the bed beside Sam's prone body. Sam just watched him nervously as he gasped under the mask.
"Okay, I'm gonna pick you up. Don't get scared - I've got you, okay? I won't let anything happen to you." Dean said. Sam was going through hell, his eyes bloodshot and skin pale white but at Dean's words he looked so remarkably hopeful and trusting.
Dean put Sam's hand on the mask and Sam nodded, understanding he was to keep it secure on his face. Dean then pushed his arm under Sam's back and Sam squirmed, trying to make it easier. As Dean's head came closer to Sam's face, he could hear his little brother still wheezing loudly.
Sam's raw eyes tracked his brother as Dean then swept the covers back and put his other arm under Sam's thighs.
"Okay Sammy, just relax," Dean hummed and with one quick yet gentle pull, Sam was lifted, folding in for a second by Dean's hold before his whole body slid towards his brother in bed. He ended up cradled lengthwise across Dean's lap. Before he could get his bearings, he felt Dean's hand rub his chest, offering him careful reassurances.
"It's okay, relax, Sammy, breathe," Dean whispered and Sam melted in against his big brother, gasping but still feeling better somehow. Dean tightened his hold around Sam's shoulders and after a couple pulls to get them more comfortable, hitching Sam's legs closer too. Finished, Dean pulled the lightweight sheet up and over the two of them. He hefted it up to Sam's chest and glanced again at Sam's eyes. Sammy's eyes. Brown and slightly unfocused but Sam had been staring up watching Dean the whole time. Dean returned the gaze, giving a small smile as he flashed back to when his baby brother was ten months old, staring up into Dean's face, studying it with wide wonder as his big brother fed him his bottle.
Sam wasn't as adorable as back then... but not by much and not right now when Sam's expression held a similar look of awe... only there was fear in it now, which destroyed the nostalgic moment and tore Dean into an imperative mode of needing to take care of him.
"Okay, you breathing better at all?" Dean asked, worried, placing his hand over Sam's on the oxygen mask. Sam closed his eyes and swallowed. A good sign, Dean figured. Still Dean had the distinct feeling Sam wasn't appreciating the mask for whatever reason. His suspicions were confirmed when Sam tried to pull it off. "Nah ah ah c'mon," Dean murmured, reaching out and stopping him, positioning the mask back on properly. Sam gave the lightest sigh but again that was a great sign. He limply squeezed Dean's hand. Dean returned the gesture then placed Sam's wayward palm to rest over his own heart. "We gotta keep this on until you can breathe better. Okay?" Sam looked up at Dean and blinked with reluctant acquiescence. Dean pressed his lips together and nodded. He shifted around so Sam could lie his head in the crook of Dean's elbow and took over holding the oxygen mask. Sam hummed a pained whine, settling back into Dean's arms and against his chest. Dean hushed him and Sam quieted.
"That's it," Dean whispered, starting to alternate between stroking Sam's hair, brushing tears off his cheeks, and making sure the mask was formed to Sam's face properly.
Sam stared up at Dean as his big brother kept up the litany of calm encouragement. Sam's eyelids begrudgingly lowered bit by bit. His breathing was stunted every other minute but Dean would take what he could get.
"Sleep Sammy," he whispered, pushing his palm against Sam's chest and feeling the beat of his heart. Sam tilted towards Dean. Dean hooked him closer and brought the rest of the blankets up over them.
After a few more minutes Dean didn't think the oxygen was necessary anymore and took it off, gingerly lifting it from Sam's face and setting it on the nightstand. Sam licked his lips but kept his mouth open as it was easier to breathe that way.
Dean held his little brother and rubbed his cold arms and legs under the heavier blankets and covers. Sam blinked up at Dean and made a face.
"D-" he rasped.
"It'll go away, Sammy," Dean promised genuinely, stopping for just a second to look Sam in the eyes. "Just like the numb thing... just like the fever. It'll go away." He delicately smoothed the worry lines on Sam's forehead. "You'll be fine."
Sam swallowed and nodded with a tiny smile.
"You're... here," he managed between light breathy inhales. Dean's crow's feet creased as he grinned.
"That's right. Right here. I'm right here, little brother," Dean reassured, touching the crown of Sam's head then threading his fingers through his hair.
"Good," Sam choked, a couple of tears breaking and rolling.
"Hey-hey-hey c'mon," Dean said in soft judgment. Sam was supposed to be focusing on breathing and sleeping and getting better. "Don't." Dean wiped Sam's tears away. Sam sniffed and nodded and Dean held him closer. "I've gotchya," he whispered, starting to rock them like Sam vaguely remembered Dean had done when he'd been little. "I've gotchya right now - nothing's gonna happen. Just sleep, Sammy. Just sleep," Dean urged quietly and Sam reached out. Dean caught his hand and held it.
...
Dean woke up and instinctively gripped Sam. It was a light grip. Sam didn't wake. He just grunted with discomfort and settled down with his head against Dean's shoulder. Dean blinked the sleep out of his eyes.
"Shit," he said bluntly, sighting Castiel standing at the foot of the bed. "Man, where the hell have you been?!" He hissed, unconsciously tensing and holding Sam tighter.
Castiel gazed at the two brothers and tilted his head.
"Sam isn't well," he stated, then looked to Dean.
"You're batting a thousand, Cas, good job. Can you cure him?"
Cas approached the side of the bed, studying Sam. After a few moments of silence, Dean ran out of patience.
"Cas?"
Cas sighed and rolled up a sleeve of his trench coat.
"Hey whoa you're not uh... you're not gonna do any of that soul-checking shit again, are you?"
"I don't understand," Cas responded truthfully.
"I don't want you to hurt him. He's already been-"
"Suffering, yes. I know, Dean," Cas interjected and Dean swallowed nervously. He looked down at his little brother then back up to Castiel.
"No, Dean. This won't hurt him," Cas promised. Dean nodded, expression guarded. "I don't know if this will do anything but it might help. We'll see," Cas said before leaning forward and landing his hand against the side of Sam's face. Dean held on to his brother tighter, holding Sam's hands to his chest and watching anxiously as a brilliant white light emitted from Cas's fingertips and seeped into Sam's head.
Sam dimly woke up in the middle of it and jerked away but Dean was stronger, his reflexes superior.
"Dean," Sam breathed, panicked.
"Sam! Sammy it's okay. It's okay. It's Cas," he explained. Sam glanced up and focused on Cas. His body relaxed. "Yeah, see? It's just Cas. He's gonna help you but you gotta stay still, Sammy." Sam nodded and went limp under Cas's touch. Dean held on to him. "Good job, good, Sam," Dean praised, "just look at me - this'll be over in a second. Just look at me."
And Sam did. Sam gazed, depending on Dean as an anchor for the strength and love he needed for what had been and what would happen with these trials.
And Dean was up for it as long as Sam could keep looking at him like that.
Writer's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment/review if you can spare the time!