A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing - luv you all. I read all reviews with eager anticipation, and really just can't get enough.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters …
Chapter 5
Struggling up from his prone position on the bed, Sam desperately yet almost silently called for Dean whilst struggling to catch his breath.
Sam shifted to sit on the side of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, supporting his aching head in his hands. This position helped to alleviate some of his chest pain, making catching his breath a little easier.
Trying to calm down, Sam concentrated on controlling his breathing, taking small regular breaths to carry that essential oxygen to his starving lungs. In, out, in, out, Sam mentally repeated to regulate his breathing, slowly bringing the pain under control.
Glancing at the motel door, he waited for his brother's return. He needed Dean.
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Dean fished around in the trunk of the Impala, purposefully searching for their first aid box. Opening it, he then checked inside, confirming that they're returned the thermometer to its rightful place after they used it last. Grabbing the box, he slammed the trunk closed, hastily returning to their room.
Sam was now sitting hunched on the side of the bed, head slumped and hidden in his hands.
"Sammy?" questioned Dean on his approach to his obviously unwell brother.
Sam raised his pale face to his brother. Dean noticed the tears welling in Sam's eyes and the sweat beading on his forehead. Moving to Sam's side, Dean brushed his brothers locks aside and slipped the digital thermometer in his ear, waiting for the beep to sound.
Upon hearing the beep, Dean promptly removed the thermometer from Sam's ear, unsurprised to confirm that his brother did in fact have a temperature, although thankfully, not as high as he would have expected from Sam's ragged appearance.
Cupping a hand to the side of Sam's face Dean visually tried to assess his brother's condition, wondering whether he should take Sam to the local medical centre or hospital.
"Sammy, you never seem to cop a break do you. …you're running a bit of a fever. …How're you feeling?" Dean asked in concern.
"Dean" Sam gasped "I don't so great."
"Hospital …doctor?" questioned Dean, leaving this decision in Sam's hands, for now. He knew Sam was sick, but wasn't sure if a few hours wait to see a doctor at the hospital would help or exasperate his brother's fever.
"No." Sam was vehement in his reply. Sam hated hospitals with a passion and would only go as a last resort. No, he thought, he'd rest for a while and see how he felt later. He was already feeling slightly improved from earlier, and just hoped that the pain wouldn't come back with such fervor if he took things a little easier, maybe got some more rest.
Rubbing his still sore chest and shoulder, Sam was reluctant to change position and experience a return of the debilitating pain. "I think I must have pulled a few muscles with all the vomiting" Sam informed Dean.
"Yeah, and you've got a fever" Dean repeated dryly.
Handing Sam a couple of Tylenol, Dean went and filled a glass of water for Sam to wash them down with.
Sam swallowed the pills gratefully whilst maintaining his hunched position on the edge of the bed.
Dean watched Sam's obvious discomfort with guilt. He'd known deep down that Sam wasn't feeling that great this morning when he insisted that they leave the motel and hit the road. Then he'd driven for hours, even after he noticed Sam's increased fatigue and restlessness. He berated himself for his selfishness, and silently vowed to give Sammy the time he needed to get well before dragging him off again.
Sam felt Dean's eyes on him. "Quit staring at me" he said, without glancing up, "…I'm not a chick."
"Yeah, so Dad told me when he brought you home from the hospital, but you know…." teased Dean.
"Shut up Dean" Sam grumpily retaliated, slowly raising himself from the bed.
Dean felt instant remorse. God, what was his problem, he thought, mentally kicking himself. He was supposed to look out for Sammy, and here he was baiting his brother when he was already sick and suffering.
Sam gasped in pain as soon as he stood upright, forcing his body to bend over and hold his chest. Coughing dryly, Sam instantly regretted his idea of moving from the bed. Unfortunately, he needed to take a leak, and short of disgracing himself, he really needed to use the bathroom.
Looking for something to lean on, Sam was very grateful when Dean slipped an arm under his shoulders, supporting part of his weight.
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Watching Sam achingly slow rise from the bed, Dean quickly raced to his side to prevent his inevitable topple face first to the ground. Staggering under the added weight, Dean took a moment to stabilize Sam's swaying movements.
"Bathroom?" he questioned, seeing the direction for which Sam was aiming.
"Yeah" confirmed Sam in a whisper.
After a slowly assisted shuffle across the room, Sam was grateful to finally reach his destination. "Thanks Dean." he said, untangling himself from Dean's support to enter the bathroom alone. Noticing that Dean remained at the doorway, he added "I can manage."
Dean reluctantly moved away from the bathroom door, but stayed within a few feet, ready to offer assistance if needed.
Sam closed the bathroom door. Dean paced restlessly on the other side.
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Sam stared at his pale complexion in the bathroom mirror. He was starting to second guess his own earlier diagnosis, worried about the persistent pain in his chest. His whole body ached and he felt faint from battling the pain and dizziness. Even breathing hurt; aggravating the pain radiating from his chest.
After finishing in the bathroom, Sam was not surprised to find Dean hovering attentively near the door. Appreciative of the assistance, Sam accepted Dean's support and headed to sit at the table instead of going back to bed.
"Sam, you should probably try to get some more sleep" Dean stated in response to helping Sam onto the chair instead of the bed.
"Nah, I actually feel better sitting up" replied Sam, leaning forward to rest his aching head on his folded arms.
Dean moved to lie back on his own bed, enabling him to keep a close but discrete eye on his brother. Sam's apparent deterioration had him worried, and he was seriously starting to consider taking Sam to seek medical help. Resignedly, he decided that if Sam didn't improve in the next couple of hours, he was taking Sam to the hospital, regardless of any protestations. If Sam got any worse, then he was taking him immediately. Dean felt somewhat calmer having reached this decision.
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Sam relaxed somewhat in his hunched position, until the kink in his back became too persistent to ignore. Still, Sam was reluctant to move, fearing a return of the stabbing chest pains.
The continued chest pains and difficulty taking deep breaths was starting to really worry Sam. When he was injured in a hunt at least he knew what he was facing. He felt real fear not knowing what was wrong and hated that he wasn't getting any better. He really loathed the thought of seeking medical help, terrified in case there was something seriously wrong. God he really, really hated hospitals.
He'd been sick for nearly a week now, and all things considered, Dean had been pretty good. Since he'd gotten sick, they hadn't accomplished a hunt, hadn't even looked for one. He knew Dean was restless and he hated the thought of burdening him further with a hospital visit. Dean really, really hated hospitals too.
Assessing all these factors in his head, Sam finally came to a decision. It was the fear of actually moving that tipped the scales. He would go to the hospital. If nothing else, they should at least be able to give him something for the pain. The Tylenol weren't even taking the edge off. Hesitantly, he wondered how best to broach the subject with Dean; not wanting Dean to worry, but also not wanting him to feel even more burdened. Not wanting Dean to feel that he was a weight that needed to be carried. God, he felt so pathetic and needy.
He rested a few more minutes.
Eventually, he acknowledged that he couldn't retain his awkward position forever, and at some stage he'd have to move, preferable before he was permanently crippled. Yeah, he needed to talk with Dean; get to the hospital.
"Dean" he said, without moving, head still resting on his arms.
"Yeah, …Sam?" questioned Dean, looking intently at his prone brother.
"Ah" Sam hesitated. "…I really don't feel so great …maybe …ah …hospital." Sam stuttered out as he braced himself with his hands on the table, coming to a slow rise.
The faintness assaulted his as soon as he raised his head.
Trying desperately to steady himself, he lurched, causing a sharp stab of pain to radiate through his chest. Gasping under the wave of pain, he struggled to catch his breath, clutching his chest as he fell towards the carpeted floor.
Dean watched in horror as Sam struggled upright, gasping and clutching his chest. Racing to his brother's side, he was too slow to prevent Sam's collapse to the floor, shuddering in panic at the sound of Sam's head banging on the side of the table on his journey to the floor.
"Sammy!…"
TBC
A/N: Probably just one or two more chapters to go – next chapter we'll find out what's wrong with Sam. Hope you're enjoying the story. Please review- I've only just started writing (this is my 2nd story, but I'm also writing a third at the same time) and I judge my stories on the reviews. Suggestions more than welcome.