Apparitions and Ailments

Chapter 2

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Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

A/N: Wow, I'm overwhelmed by the response so far. I hope I live up to your expectations! Let me know.

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You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do - Eleanor Roosevelt

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Dean went back to their motel room to take a shower and change clothes. He knew he would get no more sleep and, besides, he didn't want to be gone from Sam that long. Neither of them was particularly fond of hospitals, but Sam's reaction seemed extreme. Before leaving the motel, Dean packed a few things for Sam and went to the diner next door for coffee and breakfast. He wasn't very hungry, but knew he needed to eat. He also needed to do something to keep from rushing back to the hospital.

As he contemplated the pancakes he ordered, but didn't want, Dean wondered about what Sam told him. Had he somehow been with their father or was there a physical cause for him passing out that the doctor only needed time to find? But, if John was in contact, why did he send Sam back? If the tests today showed nothing and Sam was released, what should Dean do? Humor him or try to convince him he'd only been dreaming? Could he find some way to find out the truth? And if Sam continued to pass out; should Dean try to convince him to see a specialist?

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Dean took his cell phone from a pocket and put it on the table next to his plate. He wanted to call Bobby, but something stopped him. He still didn't really have anything to share with the older hunter because there were nothing but questions about Sam's condition and what might be causing it. On the other hand, maybe Bobby would be able to shed some light on what could be happening. Maybe he knew of a way John could be in contact with Sam.

Dean ate a few bites of the food, got a large coffee to go, and headed to the Impala. Sitting behind the wheel, he finally dialed Bobby's number.

"Hello?" he heard the familiar voice and was suddenly more at ease.

"Bobby, it's Dean."

"Dean! How are you?" came the warm greeting from the other end.

"To be honest with you, I'm not sure."

"What's going on?"

Dean spent the next few minutes telling him what had been happening with Sam. He finished with, "Do you think Sam could really be in contact with Dad?"

Bobby was quiet for so long that Dean thought the call had been lost. "Bobby?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking," the older man said. "I've never heard of anything like what you've described happening, but that doesn't mean it isn't possible. I can poke around if you want; see what I can come up with."

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean said and sipped at the coffee.

"So if Sam is released tomorrow, where do you think you'll go?"

"I hadn't thought that far ahead."

"Why don't you come here?"

Dean realized that's what he had been hoping Bobby would say. Being with him felt almost like being with his father and that was something Dean sorely missed.

"Thanks for the offer. I'll let you know."

They spoke for a few more minutes and then Dean headed back to the hospital. He got to Sam's room a full five minutes after visiting hours started, but was disappointed not to find his brother there. He dropped the small bag he packed on the floor next to the bed before going to the nurses' station.

"Hello, Mr. Kilmister." the nurse behind the desk smiled at him. "Your brother should be back in his room any minute now."

Dean nodded. "Thanks."

He went back to the room, feeling a little uncomfortable. It was a small facility and Dean supposed it was a good thing that the staff was so attentive, but at the same time it made him feel exposed. Dean was standing at the window, his back to the room, when Sam was brought in a few minutes later. He turned to see that his brother looked tired and pale. Dean watched as Sam waved off the assistance of the orderly who had been pushing the wheelchair, but the effort of climbing into bed seemed to exhaust him. After making sure everything was back in place, the orderly left the brothers alone.

"You okay?" Dean asked, moving closer to the bed.

"Yeah, fine."

Dean heard the agitation in his voice and sat on the edge of the bed. "The tests go all right?"

The younger man only nodded.

"Sam –"

"You don't believe me, do you?"

Dean was taken aback by the abruptness of the question. He stared at Sam for a moment.

"I never said that."

"Do you believe me?"

Dean was too tired and worried for this conversation. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then looked at his brother. "I don't know what to believe, Sam. All I know for sure is that you've been passing out. Maybe you are in contact with Dad, I don't know. And right now, I don't know how to find out."

"You could just trust me," Sam said quietly, not looking at his brother.

"Sam."

"Dean, please. Get me out of here and trust me."

"I do trust you, but I'm not going to let you leave yet." Sam was about to protest, but Dean continued quickly. "I want to get the test results just to make sure you're okay."

"I am okay, Dean, I promise." Sam looked at him, wide-eyed. "I promise."

"Humor me, okay?"

Sam looked into his brother's eyes; he saw concern and pleading.

"Sam, please?" Dean said earnestly. "If the tests come back normal, I'll take you out of here so fast it will make your head spin. But if there's anything, even the smallest indication that there's something wrong –"

"There won't be."

Dean nodded. "But if there is, you have to promise me that you'll take it seriously and do what the doctor tells you."

Sam nodded.

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As the day wore on, Dean became increasingly concerned about his brother. He stayed pale, fell asleep easily but didn't sleep long, and he refused to eat the lunch that was brought to him.

"You should eat something, Sam." Dean said. He was sitting in the chair he'd moved close to the bed and his feet rested on the bottom rung of the railing. Except for a brief excursion to the bathroom down the hall earlier when Sam was asleep, he'd been with his brother since the morning.

"I'm not hungry."

Dean watched him closely. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, just not hungry."

"You haven't eaten in quite a while; since last night."

"I don't know what to tell you, man." Sam sounded irritated. He glanced at his brother, then looked away.

"I packed a deck of cards in the duffle. Want to play?"

Sam shrugged. "I just want to get out of here. I'm going stir-crazy."

Dean reached for the bag and pulled out the cards. "This will keep your mind off of it for a little while."

He saw Sam roll his eyes and grinned at him. Dean shuffled and dealt the cards, but stopped short as he put the rest of the deck on the bed. Sam reached for his cards, but suddenly his hand went limp.

"Sam?"

The younger man turned toward him, but there didn't appear to be any recognition in his eyes.

"Hey –" Dean began.

Sam moaned and his head fell back onto the pillow before listing to the side.

"Sam?" Dean stood up and touched his brother's shoulder lightly. Still getting no response, Dean shook him. "Sammy!?"

Before panic set in, Dean pressed the nurse call button while trying to revive his brother. "Sammy, come on, man."

A nurse came in a moment later and after a quick examination, pressed the button again. It didn't take long for the room to fill with people, including a doctor Dean didn't recognize. He was escorted from the room, but didn't stray far from the doorway.

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You shouldn't be here.

"What's going on? Where are we?"

You need to go back. It's not safe for you here.

Sam glanced around the dim room; it was the same place he'd been earlier.

"I can't see you; where are you?"

Sam, go back to your brother. It's not safe for you here and I can't protect you.

"I can handle myself, Dad." Sam tried to stand, but found he couldn't. He also realized he couldn't see his own body. "Dad?"

Listen to me. John's voice sounded stronger. I'm not the one bringing you here. You have to fight it, Sam. You can't be here.

"Who is it then? And if I can get here, can't I get you out?" Sam asked, looking around frantically.

I can't leave now.

Sam felt like he was being blown backward by a strong wind heard a loud howl. He wasn't sure if it was an animal or something else.

"Dad!" he yelled, trying to be heard about the noise.

Get out of here, Sammy! Go now!

Sam's eyes opened; he could voices, but couldn't see any faces yet.

"Dean?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Sam, my name is Dr. Caulfield. Do you remember where you are?"

Sam turned his head toward the direction of the voice and the doctor moved closer to the bed and into his field of vision.

"Where's Dean?"

"Your brother is right outside. You're in a hospital; do you remember?"

Sam tried to sit up, but couldn't make his body obey him. "I need to talk to my brother."

The doctor nodded to a nurse on the other side of the bed, though Sam didn't see that. All he knew was, a moment later, his brother was standing next to him.

"Dean –" Sam reached out for him.

Dean put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here."

"I have to talk to you." his voice was still low, but he sounded frantic.

"Sam, let the doctor do his job first. I'm not going anywhere."

"But –"

"Please, Sam. Let the doctor do his job."

Sam looked at his brother; there was fear in his eyes. He felt Dean's hand on his shoulder and nodded briefly.

"I was on my way to see you about your test results when the trouble started earlier." the doctor began. "Neither the CAT scan nor the MRI are showing a reason that you're losing consciousness. Considering what happened a few minutes ago, I'd like to transfer you to Hobart."

"I don't want to go to another hospital." Sam felt Dean squeeze his shoulder.

"We don't have the tools to diagnose your condition here," the doctor began. "I want to refer you to a neurologist."

"So release me and give me a referral. I'll go to a neurologist."

"Sam –" Dean began quietly.

"I don't want to be transferred to another hospital."

"After what just happened, I can't, in good conscious, release you."

"I'll sign whatever you want –"

"Sam, let's think about this," Dean said.

"I've already made up my mind."

"Sam, I don't think you understand the implications of your decision," Dr. Caulfield glanced at Dean, then turned his full attention back to Sam. "Losing consciousness is very serious –"

"I understand that, but my brother and I are on a road trip. I'd prefer to see a doctor at home." Sam heard his brother sigh.

Dr. Caulfield tried several other approaches, but in the end, he had no choice but to grant his patient's wish. He left to start the release paperwork and after the door closed behind him, Dean glared at Sam.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm not sick," Sam said confidently. "I was with Dad again."

"Sam –" Dean turned away from him. "You passed out and you can barely move now, but you've bullied the doctor into releasing you! For what? To see a doctor at home? What do you want me to do here, Sam?"

"Believe me."

Dean turned to look at him. Sam saw the emotions pass over his face as he struggled with his thoughts. He knew this had to be hard for his brother; it had always been Dean's job to take care of him and the responsibility he felt must be overwhelming right now. But Sam was confident he'd been with his father and he was convinced there was nothing a doctor could do for him.

"We're going to Bobby's." Dean said. "I called him earlier and told him what was going on. He said we were welcome there."

Sam nodded, relief flooding over him.

"But I swear, Sam, if you pass out like that on the way, I'm going to leave your limp ass on the side of the road."

Sam couldn't help but smile.

TBC