He Thinks It's All Over Chapter 2
Finish it!
Sam held the shotgun, aiming at his brother. Dean stared up at him from the floor of the basement, holding out the handgun and still gasping for breath.
He couldn't stop himself. Sam grasped his brother's weapon, stepped forward, took aim...
You hate me that much...
Finish this! Finish him!
NOOOOO!!
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Dean leaned over Sam, ear to his mouth. It was faint but he couldn't help the smile of relief when he felt small warms puffs of air on his skin.
"Atta boy Sam." Dean gently cradled Sam in his arms; he wasn't waking up but he was alive. And Dean had to settle for that small mercy, just for now. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable."
Carefully hooking one arm under Sam's knees, he lifted him up from the floor, grimacing not just at the heavy load but at the large patch of blood staining the carpet.
"Guess we aint gettin' our room deposit back huh Sam?" Sam's only answer was for his head to roll bonelessly against Dean's shoulder. Fortunately the bed was literally a few feet
away, and as soon as Dean had his brother lying down, he darted over to the bathroom and ran a washcloth under the faucet.
"Hey Sammy? Can you hear me bro?" Dean sat on the edge of the bed and tilted Sam's face towards him. "I'm gonna clean you up a little, get all that blood off."
As soon as he started gently wiping his brother's face and neck, Sam whimpered and tried to struggle away.
"Shhhh. Sammy it's just me ok?" But Sam's struggles became almost desperate and his cries grew louder, his body starting to shake.
It was happening again.
"NOOOO!!" Sam's body twisted frantically, his head thrashing from side to side as Dean tried his best to keep him still. "I won't, I can't, I..."
The white lightening engulfed his mouth and eyes, and Sam was convulsing violently yet again.
How the hell is this happening? I barbequed that sonofabitch!
Dean placed his hands on either side of Sam's face, cupping it gently, his own heart squeezing every time he heard his brother's broken sobs and painful breathing.
"Sam listen to me. I'm right here." He clambered further up onto the bed, pinning Sam's arms with his knees, and staring right into his brother's glazed eyes. "It's gonna be ok. Stay with me, Sammy. Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me..." Dean kept repeating softly to his brother as the seizure progressed and eventually faded, to be replaced by the painful shivering.
Dean was dismayed to find that Sam's nose and ears were bleeding again, but at least he hadn't stopped breathing this time. After gently wiping him clean again, Dean sat back a little and grasped Sam's hand. It was cold as ice and shaking like a leaf. Frowning he ran his hand up Sam's arm, feeling the muscles as he went. Eyes widened, he smoothed both his hands over his little brother's neck and shoulders, then back down his arms to his wrists, where he held them tight.
"Shit Sam!" It wasn't just shivering, it was minor convulsions wracking Sam's body; the muscles being forced to expand and contract time and again, over and over, many hundreds of times a second, and it had to hurt. A lot. No wonder the poor kid looked like he was going through a living hell.
Feeling Sam's forehead only deepened his worry. Sam had a raging fever and Dean was startled at how quickly it had developed; he was pretty sure he'd have noticed it earlier.
Dean was scared shitless and had no idea what to do. But he did know that Sam wasn't going to last much longer. Any more of these...attacks and his brother was going to die.
Ok. Think. Need to calm him, stop the muscle spasms. Dean leapt off the bed and grabbed the first aid kit. Maybe if Sam was rendered deeply unconscious Ellicott wouldn't be able to get to him.
"I know it's in here." He muttered to himself as he rummaged through it. Then he held up a small container and shook it. "Ok. Now we're gettin' somewhere."
Ripping a piece of paper free of the motel's complimentary notebook Dean shook out a small quantity of diazepam pills, wrapped the paper around them, then bent down and began untying his laces.
It made quite an amusing sight to the drunken late night passerby's, seeing Dean repeatedly raising his boot and smashing it down on the table, gradually crushing the pills. He had his arm raised when he saw them watching him through the windows, and Dean froze. Plastering a grin on his face before making all the appropriate signs to indicate that he was merely swatting the shit out of one hell of an annoying fly, he carried on.
Once they'd moved on Dean closed the curtains, muttering about perverts.
Then he continued on his quest, except Dean was in deadly earnest and he got the feeling that Sam was gearing up for another attack. After grabbing a bottle of water from the min-bar, Dean folded the scrap of paper in two, then funnelled the now powdered sedative into the water. Screwing the lid back on, he gave it a good shake. Dean was pretty sure he'd exceeded the dose, but Sam needed to go out like a light and quickly. It would keep him down but it wouldn't kill him
I hope!
It was 'Devil and The Deep Blue Sea' territory. Either way, Sam was screwed.
"No...please...stop...I can't...Dean...RUN!" Sam shot up from the bed, eyes wild with pain, anger, confusion, fear. There was so much going on in those eyes that Dean winced in sympathy.
But he stilled when he saw what was in his little brother's hand.
He slowly raised his eyes to Sam's face.
"Sammy." He called softly. "Give me the knife..."
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Sam was standing over his brother again.
"No. This isn't right. This has to stop!"
Finish this!
Dropping the shotgun, he reached down and swiped the hunting knife from Dean's ankle. A loud roar reverberated round the basement, as Ellicott grew angry.
You must finish this, it's the only way!
Sam gripped the knife determinedly. "No. You don't get to make the rules!" He drove the blade deep into his wrist, the blood spurting up, branding his face. His point made, he turned the blade until it was level with his own gut.
He glanced at his brother one last time. "I can't kill you again," he whispered.
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Dean was rooted to the spot when he saw his little brother's carnage begin, the blade slicing deep and hard. But soon he was moving.
He'd seen enough of Sam's blood spilt to last a life time.
"Sam no!" Dean launched across the motel room, grabbed Sam's wrist and squeezed hard. Sam fought back but his body was too weak, and Dean soon wrestled the knife from his brother's hand. "Not a chance! I'm not letting him do this to you!"
Hooking a foot round the back of Sam's knees he pulled him then pushed backwards. His brother soon over-balanced and fell onto the bed. Dean grabbed the drugged water, twisted the cap off and jammed the spout in between Sam's lips.
The next set of convulsions were imminent and Dean hurriedly pinned his brother down, pinched his nose and force fed him the fluid.
"Come on Sam drink!" He yelled as Sam gasped and spluttered, bucking and writhing, but Dean wouldn't let up, and pretty soon the bottle was empty. He sat back as Sam stared up at him, breathing hard and fast. "Slow it down buddy. Just take it easy." Dean reached out and brushed Sam's hair away from his eyes. Heaving a sigh of relief as Sam's body relaxed, he watched as his little brother gradually passed out, body completely still and no sign of the spasms.
The convulsions had been put on hold, Dean was pretty certain of that. He knew he couldn't keep his brother sedated permanently, and neither could he allow him to not only suffer excruciating pain or attempt to kill himself. He needed to figure this out, but he had no clue of what was going on in Sam's head.
In silence, he cleaned the slash in his brother's wrist, unable to halt the worry when Sam didn't even flinch when he poured peroxide solution over it, or even when he started stitching.
Sam was in deep trouble and all the evidence pointed to Ellicott. But how?
Dean thought hard, chewing on his lip. He was at a complete loss.
There was only one person that might be able to help, and Dean wasn't even sure his father listened to his voicemails any more. But he had to try, because there simply were no other options.
This is John Winchester. In the event of an emergency contact my son Dean...
Dean waited for voicemail to kick in, then took a deep breath.
"Dad...it's me. We took care of that job at the Asylum...but Sam...something happened Dad. I think...Sam's dying and I don't know what to do! He tried to kill himself..."
Dean sniffed, already hardening his resolve. "We need help. Sam needs help, and he needs it fast!" He left a parting shot. "Please tell me that you aint so mad at him that you'd let 'im die?"
Dean slowly closed the cell, still watching his brother like a hawk. It was below the belt, even by Dean's standards, but he was getting desperate.
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He couldn't allow himself any sleep. Sam was out cold but how long would that last? So Dean spent the night pacing the room, sitting by his brother, watching nameless crap on TV. He had no idea how long the drugs would last, or if he'd overdosed Sam, so he had to keep up a constant vigil. Dean was ready and waiting for Sam to wake up, because then he could assess him, check if he was any pain or about to go psychotic, but mainly so he could safely administer more drugs before Sam became tormented by those fearsome convulsions.
So that's what he did. Any time Sam showed signs of regaining consciousness, Dean drugged him again. And he knew he couldn't keep that up for long.
Trouble was, this had already gone on for three days, and no word from his father. And why was Dean so surprised at that?
But when the knock at the door came, Dean was out of his seat and fumbling with the lock, praying and hoping that...
But who was standing there waiting for him was a complete surprise. And Dean struggled to hide his disappointment.
"Yeah. I know who you were hoping for." Joey raised her arms and twirled before gracing him with her familiar mischievous grin. "All right shorty?"
And Dean felt utterly exhausted. No it wasn't his father at the door, but she might possibly be the next best thing. He stared down into her soft brown eyes and knew that she wasn't in the least offended. Understood in fact.
He hadn't seen her in six years, since she...well, from the way he understood it saved his brother's life.
Joey glared at him, and her cockney accent seemed to thicken with anger. "Seems like I'm just in time eh?" She gave him a shove...and kept on shoving until he fell back onto his bed. Joey loomed over him, if it was at all possible for someone less than five foot six to manage. Her stare would have been threatening if it weren't for the edge of concern gleaming in her eyes. "You should know better than to go so long without sleep. You're a hunter. You need to be alert." A small grin. "the world needs lerts!" Dean blinked.
This woman's sense of humour always did drive me crazy!
After a long pause, where Joey gave him a once over glance that he hadn't felt since showering in high school, she simply nodded before adding, "Time for you to get some sleep."
Dean couldn't help but feel a little sad. Apart from the accent it was just like...having a mom again?
What?
"But..."
"I'll keep an eye on 'im mate. Dan'cha worry 'bout a fing m'darlin'" And Dean felt no fear, no macho denial when she leaned over and kissed his forehead. Then he truly felt nothing except sheer peace and bliss.
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Joey watched Dean for a few minutes, just to make sure he was out. Then she turned to Sam.
"Sweetheart." She breathed out softly. " What 'ma I gonna do wif you lot eh?" And Joey leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of Sam's forehead. "Let's see what's goin' on in there..."
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Dean woke up with a start. He was having some trouble remembering the last few days...he glanced at his watch. Yeah, it had been a few days since...
"Joey?" He called out sharply, and turned his head to stare at the woman slumped in the chair by Sam's bed.
"Shh." Tired, sad eyes met his. "I've been watching over him for ya mate., jus' like I promised." It wasn't the jovial, teasing voice he remembered hearing. Now the voice matched her eyes. Tired, sad and resigned.
Dean stared hard. "We can't help him can we?" He swallowed down his fear and regret. "Sam's gonna die."
Joey then fully turned to stare right back at him. "No. There's always a way." That grin, the one that offered hope, returned all but briefly. "And you hold the answer, whev'er you know it or not."
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Authors notes:
So, as promised to a few individuals, Joey is back! But this is mostly for Criminally Charmed...and she will get what she wants!
Kind regards,
ST.xxx.