So I know I just posted, but -shrugs- I have gotten a taste and now I am hooked. Abusing Dean is addictive :P
Sam paced.
Whenever he was nervous. Whenever he was worried or scared, he paced. And right now he was working on the emotional trifecta.
Dean had let Sam take him to the doctor, but he'd insisted on going in the exam room alone.
Which left Sam to wear out the carpet.
"Mr. Young?"
Sam's head snapped up at the name. Even though he'd insisted on paying, Dean had made him give the alias. Just in case.
"It's Sam. How is he?"
"Well, Sam." She gave him a comforting smile. Hugged the clipboard to herself. "Your brother seems fine. We gave him a full exam, ran some tests. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. He has a slight fever, but he tells me he was fighting something last week."
Sam nodded. Yeah. A reaper.
"Could be residual," the doctor continued. "Exhaustion. Dehydration from the illness. I drew some blood so we can rule out any sort of bacterial infection." She paused, looked at the chart. "Of course, some of the symptoms he described could be indicative of something more serious. I'd like to recommend an MRI just to be safe."
Sam glanced at Dean, who was standing behind her, looking at the floor.
"Sure," Sam said quickly. "Whatever he needs. Can he get that done today? "
The doctor nodded. "Usually our tech is pretty backed up, but I'll see if I can pull some strings." She patted Dean lightly on the shoulder. "And you. Take it easy for awhile, okay?"
Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, thanks, Doc."
When she'd moved out of earshot, Sam addressed his brother. "So?"
"Told you Sammy. Picture of health."
"Not exactly what she said, Dean. Let's see what the test results say first."
"Fine. Whatever," Dean said. He stood hunched, hands in his pockets. "Let's just get this over with, alright. This whole medical thing give me the creeps."
Sam tilted his head. "Aw, but you were such a brave boy… I betcha if I asked nice, they'd give you a lolli."
"Keep that up and you're the one who's gonna need a doctor," Dean muttered.
Snickering, Sam headed to the receptionist desk see when Dean's test would be scheduled.
Dean scowled. "Better be cherry."
Unfortunately for Dean, they didn't head back to the apartment until mid- afternoon. True to her word, the doctor arranged for Dean to get the scan done that morning.
It was an experience he didn't want to repeat anytime soon.
He'd had an MRI before. Once. When he was 16.
He'd been hunting with his father, a nasty job with a particularly nasty spirit with an affinity for hurling heavy objects at their heads. But luckily that time he'd been so out of it he really didn't have time to focus on the unpleasantness of the experience.
Not like this time.
He'd balked when they'd showed him the machine.
"I know." Dave, the tech, smiled sympathetically. "Can be a little freaky."
"Nah," Dean muttered. He ran a hand over his chest, smoothing the blue and white gown. "It's super. Lookin' forward to it."
Dave smiled and helped the hunter onto the table, easing him back down so his shoulders settled against the padded supports. Once he was prone, the technician covered his legs with a blanket, pulling it up to his waist.
"Can get kind of chilly in here," Dave explained. "Gotta keep it cool for the machine."
Dean moved his head in a sort of half nod, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He licked his lips, took a breath. His fingers unconsciously began tapping out a rhythm on the padded table.
"Is that… Metallica?" Dave paused, mouth curling in amusement, a pair of headphones in his hand.
"What?" Dean asked, not even aware he'd been humming softly to himself. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. Calms me down."
"Hey man, never have to apologize for Metallica," Dave said handing Dean the headphones. "Classic rock fan, huh?" He placed cushioned pads on either side of Dean's neck to keep his head secure. "Me too. I know a great station so just lay back, listen to a little AC/DC and this'll be over before you know it."
He adjusted the headphones, then disappeared from Dean's of sight for a moment before returning with something that resembled a plastic cage.
"I'm going to have to put this thing around your head, okay?" Dave showed him the vice-like contraption. "Then we'll get this shindig started. I'll be there the whole time talkin' to you and I can hear you so just let me know if you need anything, alright?"
Dean pursed his lips. Gave a thumbs up.
"Right. Just remember to breathe, don't move and most importantly, think happy thoughts."
Seeing, the tension on his patient's face, Dave squeezed his arm. "Hey. Try closing your eyes. It helps." He pushed a button and Dean felt the sensation of movement as the table start to slide into the machine.
Dean took a deep breath. Closed his eyes like he'd been told. Did his best on the happy thought part.
He steadied his breathing and tried to concentrate on the sound of the bass drums being pumped through the earphones. On the guitar riffs.
Not on the fact that he was encapsulated in a plastic deathtrap.
That he was stuck in some oversized magnet.
Trapped.
Alone.
Helpless.
Dean shuddered.
"Hey," Sam said, flicking his eyes from the road. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Dean sat a little straighter in the passenger seat. He rubbed his neck. "Just tired."
Sam glanced at him worriedly.
His brother had insisted he stay in the waiting room during the procedure, but Sam knew Dean had a thing about tight spaces. Remembered on those hunting trips when they were kids, the way Dean would flinch before entering a tunnel or tense while working a sewer job. Dean had always insisted he wasn't claustrophobic but Sam thought that had more to do with not wanting to seem weak in front of their father than anything else.
"Hey, man it's over," Sam said gently. "And now we can know for sure, okay?"
"Yeah," Dean forced a smile. His mind flashed to Laya. Of the reaper's hands on his head. Of being sure he was going to die. "Now we can know."
He felt the headache resurface, the phantom pains traveling down his legs and arms.
Suddenly, he wasn't sure he if wanted to.
-tbc