"Sammy!" Dean stumbled toward his fallen brother, almost doing a face plant himself.
"Damnit Dean!" Bobby snapped, once again grabbing the younger mans arm in a vice like grip. "Let me help you before you end up on the ground too."
A low growl of frustration from the man was all he got, but Dean grudgingly allowed the help. He hated the slow pace, neither man was in the best shape, but as desperate as he was to get to Sam's side he knew he couldn't make it without help. They were both almost holding each other up. Each shuffled step they staggered in the desired direction seeming to take longer than the last. What took moments felt like hours. Finally they reached him and Dean dropped to his knees next to his brother. He reached out with trembling hands to gently turn him over.
"Sam? Hey Sam, you with me?" His brother was pale and limp in his arms. Dean felt his panic begin to spike. "Talk to me man, let me know you're okay. Sam?"
Bobby knelt on the side next to him as they both tried to run an inventory of the boys damages. "Did it toss him around like it did us?" He asked noting the lack of physical injuries.
Dean's brows pulled down in confusion and worry. He also couldn't find any cause for his brother's current state. "No. Never touched him."
"Then what-"
Dean's fuzzy memories were beginning to clear and he drew in a sharp breath. He remembered the pained look on Sam's face and suddenly knew the reason for his collapse. "Shit. A freakin' vision."
Bobby's face expressed shock. "A vision did this?"
Dean swallowed. "Yeah. They've been bad. Getting worse every time. One hit just as fugly was taking us on. He collapsed and I couldn't get to him." Already his fingers were moving to try and get a pulse beat. Weak and thready, not good. And another damn nose bleed. Crap.
All the sudden Sam's shallow breathing cut off in a ragged gasp. Dean's face paled and his panic shot off the scale. "Sam!" Tipping Sam's head back, Dean started CPR. Unresponsive. His little brother's chest refused to move on it's own, only Dean's puffs of air making his lungs fill, expanding his chest. "Don't you do this to me Sam. Don't you dare." He choked out.
Bobby already had his phone out of his pocket. His fingers flying as he dialed 911. He'd just have to hope no one recognized them, the boy needed help.
"Bobby," Dean near sobbed as he coughed out the harsh plea.
It had been two minutes now. Bobby was torn. There was a film of tears in Dean's eyes, he was begging him to fix this. He'd gladly do anything he could, but now all he could do was pray.
Dean kept at it. Where the hell was that ambulance? They should already have some in this area after the fuss he was sure happened inside. Miraculously, a soft breath came. Then another, louder as Sam struggled to suck air in.
"That's right Sammy, good." He encouraged. "Nice and easy. We're gonna get you some help, just hang tight."
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Hands were on his face, holding him gently. It barely registered. Hazel eyes fought under heavy lids to open. His head was pounding in an excruciating tempo. His lungs burning with the effort of taking one breath to the next. He felt cold. He felt like he was dying it hurt so badly. Dean. Where are you? Help me. It hurts.
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Dean was alarmed by how bad off Sam seemed. What the hell happened? The visions had never been this bad before. It was taking so much energy just to keep breathing. He was barely conscious, if not for his fingers twitching along with his eye lids, Dean would've thought he was still out.
"Okay kid, hate to say this, but we gotta move him."
Dean's head snapped up, eyes wide and incredulous. "What? Are you kidding me?"
"'Fraid not. We gotta get him in the car."
"Look at him! We can't move him."
Bobby frowned, apologetic. "Look Dean, we're in an alley with a burning corpse. We can't be here when they show up. The area is already thick with cops."
Indeed several patrol cars had sped past the dark side road already.
"We don't have to go far, just a few streets over where it's a little safer. I already parked my truck over there. I told the dispatch were we'd be."
Bobby had told them a different street? What hadn't he noticed? Probably because he was so busy with Sam. He had a point. There'd be enough questions without them finding them near a burning body. "Crap. Alright. Just be careful." He instructed as he moved to grab under Sam's arms. Opening the back door, Bobby nodded as he got his feet.
"Sam?" Dean wanted to prepare him for the move, even if he wasn't sure Sam could hear him. Kid was pretty out of it. "We gotta move you buddy. Won't take but a minute. Okay?" Nothing, though he hadn't expected an answer. "Okay, go."
Both men lifted and grunted in pain as their own injuries protested. They pushed it aside, only one thing was important right now. Softly laying the youngest in back, Dean climbed in with him while Bobby slid behind the wheel. Dean carefully pillowed Sam's head on his lap atop his jacket. Trying to make him more comfortable.
"'Kay. Here we go." Dean bit his lip as they backed out, but Sam didn't stir. Bobby pulled onto a dark street a block away. Everything from the moment they'd killed the creature to now had taken minutes, but it felt like an eternity to the men. Sirens wailed and the ambulance sped toward them.
"We didn't talk about our cover story." Dean said as the flashing lights became visible.
Bobby shifted and climbed out, opening the back door as he answered. "Got jumped by a gang. Our injuries, that's about the only story that will work I think."
"Works for me." Then to Sam, "Almost here. Help is on it's way. Just a little longer." His breathing was still too labored for Dean's liking and he'd grown deathly pale. He frowned as his hand brushed the hair back from Sam's forehead, grazing the cold flesh. Too cold. Was he going into shock?
The lights were right outside the window now. Dean hadn't even noticed them pull up. He heard the EMT's asking Bobby clipped questions as one knelt in the back. A man's face appeared and he looked at Dean cautiously. Dean was apparently unaware how fierce his face looked as the man reached for Sam. Instinct had taken over and he was glaring down the perceived threat.
"Hey." He said calmly. "My name is Jack and I'm going to help you guys out, okay?" Placating. The other guy didn't look much better, but this kid was worse off. He needed this one calm so he could do his job.
Dean blinked, looking down at Sam and back up he nodded. The female EMT remained in the street talking to Bobby. The man, Jack, inched forward. "So what happened here?"
Dean swallowed, throat dry and swollen. "We got jumped by some guys."
Jack shook his head as if it were a story he was familiar with. "Did they beat him?" He asked as he checked over Sam. He shined a light in his eyes. They were glazed with small flecks of red. "Hm. Slight patrucial hemorrhaging. Nose bleed." He noted taking in the dry blood under Sam's nose. "Response sluggish." He checked Sam's breathing. "Rapid labored breathing. Damn, kids pulse is thready."
Dean didn't like the way this was sounding. He opened his mouth to ask what all that meant when a great shudder rocked Sam's frame.
"Shit." Jack leaned over Sam, checking his pulse. "Donna! We gotta bag him. He's fighting for air."
The woman outside the car raced to the ambulance and came back with a gurney and a bag with a mask attached.
"What's happening?" Dean asked wide eyed.
Jack spared him a quick glance, then turned all his attention on getting Sam out and onto the gurney. "What's his name?"
"Sam."
"Okay, can you hear me Sam? We're gonna help you breathe. Just relax."
He placed the mask over Sam's nose and mouth and squeezed the ambu-bag. Sam continued to struggle, his panicked breaths fogging the clear plastic mask. "Sam, I know it feels like you're choking, but you gotta try and stay calm. Can you take deep, slow breaths for me.?"
No change. Jack looked worriedly at Dean who had come up next to Sam. Taking his shoulders, he gently pushed his brother down against the gurney. "Sam." He said in that, listen to big brother, it'll be okay voice. "Stop fighting. You need to use the mask, let it help you breathe."
Almost instantly as if a subconscious reaction, Sam calmed. Once he stopped trying to push the mask away and settled, Jack smiled at Dean. "Nice job." To his partner he turned and asked, "Ready?"
"All set." She answered. Carefully and deftly, they lifted the gurney into the back.
Jack hopped in and Dean made to follow, then stopped and looked at Bobby. They'd both been beat to hell. It looked like they old guys right eye was swelling, in part he figured do to the swelling from his badly broken nose. Probably felt like a marching band had taken over his head too. He didn't want to be apart from Sam, but should he leave Bobby? Was he okay to follow?
As if reading the questions that flittered across his eyes, Bobby made a motion of dismissal. 'Go on boy. Go with your brother. I'll be alright."
"You sure?"
If he could have snorted, he would've. "This ain't my first rodeo. Go."
Dean nodded his thanks and quickly jumped up, taking a seat next to Sam.
Donna pushed the doors shut, glancing at the older man. "I can call someone for you." She offered.
"I'll be right behind." He assured her.
She didn't waste time arguing. In seconds the siren sounded, lights blazed and the were moving.
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The bag was helping, but Sam was far from out of the woods. He proved this when about two minutes out from the hospital ETA his body gave another great shudder, then stillness. Dean's eyes widened in disbelief. The sound of Sam's ragged breathing no longer filled the cabin.
"Sam." He leaned toward his brother, but was shoved back roughly by Jack who was already in motion.
"Stay back!" He ordered.
Helplessly, he watched as Jack started CPR on his brother. Sam looked so pale, making the blood stand out even more in contrast. Jack's expression was one of single minded determination. But under that, Dean recognized stress. Sam wasn't responding properly. No longer breathing on his own, Jack was keeping him alive.
"D," He huffed out in between breaths. "Call ahead. Tell them patient is in respiratory arrest. Non responsive."
"Crap." She muttered as she reached for the radio and relayed the message.
When they arrived at the bay doors, they were surrounded by a flurry of activity.
"How long has he been RA?" Someone shouted.
"Two minutes and counting." Jack answered as another man approached. "We lost him in route."
Dean's eyes snapped to Jack. He thought only Sam's lungs had given out. Apparently that wasn't the case. The CPR had another meaning now.
Sam's body once again seized and the doctor shouted out orders. "He's struggling to breathe, we don't have a choice, tube him!" Dean watched in horror as the long plastic tube was shoved slowly down Sam's throat. "Get a pulse ox on him. We need to get him stable to see what we're dealing with here." The voice and orders trailed off as they rushed toward the doors.
Dean felt like he was watching it all from outside his body. Like it was happening to someone else. Not Sam. Oh God, Sam. Please.
The hand on his shoulder didn't even register as Sam was whisked away into the ER. Bobby shook him and gently said, "Come on kid. Let's go inside."
Dean allowed himself to be led inside numbly. Sam was fighting for his life and he was stuck in this damn waiting room. He should be in there!
A petite nurse made her way over to him. If she asked him to fill out paperwork, so help him...
She looked apologetic. In her hand was a clipboard with a thick stack of papers. Dean glowered at her. Unnerved, she shuffled back a step. Bobby smiled wanly at her. He stood and reached for them. "I'll take care of that darlin'."
She smiled timidly. "Thank you. I know you two haven't been looked over yet, I included your papers also. It shouldn't be long."
"I'm not going anywhere till I know Sam is okay." Dean growled.
"Don't be stubborn." A voice said from the right.
They looked over to see Jack approaching. The nurse nodded to him and went off, only too eager to let the man deal with the hostile patient.
Dean could feel himself getting angry. This guy might have helped them, but he had no right to speak like this to him. This was his family. His little brother was in there maybe dying.
Seeing Dean's face darken, Jack held up a hand. "Easy. I know how you feel."
"Do you? I doubt that." Dean bit out.
Jack's face softened. "I know you're worried about him. I can tell just by watching you two react to each other how close you are. But this could take a while and you two are in rough shape yourselves."
Dean shrugged it off. "I'll be fine. I'm not going anywhere. Sam might need me."
He recognized the tilt of his chin. He'd seen it in stubborn patients before. He tried to reason with the young man. "Never did get your name." The man glared silently. Jack smiled wryly and titled his head in a half nod. "Not one for polite conversation I see."
Dean was on the edge of his chair, ready to stand up and do violence to this guy. He was joking now?
"You mean a lot to him you know." That was unexpected and took the wind from Dean's sails. "The way he responded to you out there? Not many would have been able to reach someone that deep in distress. Yet all it took was a few words from you and he calmed right down."
Bobby had been ready to restrain Dean and send the outspoken EMT away a moment ago. Now he was as serious as Dean. Where was he going with this?
"You're protective of him right? Take care of him." This was neither acknowledged or denied. "Don't you think he feels the same? He'd want you to be okay too. That means taking care of yourself."
Dean had to give it to the guy, he didn't see this coming. But he was wrong if he thought he'd use Sam against him. He wasn't about to move from this spot.
Though Dean felt sure in this, Jack could see him waver. His friend seemed to see the logic in this as well and if he'd just help him here...
Bobby spoke up. "Dean, he's right."
Wild eyes swung in disbelief to Bobby. "You're joking."
"Like I said," Jack jumped back in again. "It could take a while. You both got beat up pretty good too. You'll be no good to him if you don't take care of yourself."
"I'm not -" He started when Bobby interrupted.
"How will you take care of him like this, Dean?" Bobby nodded to the blood on his body and the arm cradled protectively around his ribs. "I'm willing to bet you got a few broken ribs, maybe a concussion." He said peering into the younger man's eyes.
Truth was, they were still a bit fuzzy. Dean didn't admit this.
Bobby took in the other arm hanging at his side. "And a broken arm. Slashes that need stitching." There was also a nasty bruising already starting around his neck where the creature had grabbed him. It was swelling and a little uncomfortable to swallow or talk. "He's gonna need you in your best shape."
Against his will, Dean wavered. He was pissed about them double teaming him, but they were right. He'd be no good to Sam if he couldn't move more than an inch without pain.
"Fine." He grudgingly conceded. "But anything happens, anything, someone comes to get me. I'm informed or no deal."
They nodded. "Deal. Soon as we get word."
Dean shook his head and looked at Bobby. "What about you? You comin'?"
Bobby raised the clipboard. "I'll finish this first. You go ahead."
The nurse was back now, braving the angry man as it appeared he was calming down. "Sir?" She asked him. "Would you come with me please?"
Dean felt bad for scaring the woman. She was just doing her job. He tried to offer up a small smile. He failed, but she appreciated the attempt. She led him to a room at the end of the hall and told him the doctor would be right in.
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An hour and a half later he was walking out into the waiting room to rejoin Bobby. Jack was off the clock now and had decided to stay with the injured man. He was also waiting for word on Sam. The young man and his family had somehow taken a hold of him. He always cared about his patients, but these people. He had a feeling they were special. The repeat circumstances weren't lost on him either.
Dean took in Bobby's appearance. While he'd been gone, Bobby must have been seen to. There was a white bandage on his swollen nose. It and the surrounding area were an impressive shade of blue/black. A small flash of white on his wrist under his sleeve proved to be a cast.
Huh. Broken. At least he wasn't the only one sporting the cumbersome white casting. His right arm had been snapped cleanly. His left shoulder took 45 stitches and 5 in his scalp. He also had lots of bruising aside from his throat. They'd wanted him to wear a neck brace, but he'd refused. He did have a slight concussion and had been told to stay awake for at least 4-5 hours. Yeah. No problem there. There was no chance he was sleeping while Sam was in there.
He reclaimed his chair. He knew there'd been no update as neither man had come to retrieve him, but he still had to ask. "Any word?"
They shook their heads. "Nothing." Bobby said.
"What's taking so long? Shouldn't they have said something by now?" Dean asked anxiously.
"No news doesn't mean bad news." Jack attempted to ease his mind. "They might just be working on getting him stabilized and settled."
He nodded reluctant acceptance, then used the fingers on his good hand to motion to Bobby. "What's your damage?"
Bobby sighed and gestured wearily to his face. "Broken nose, obviously. Wrenched my back a bit." And bruises all down his length, but he didn't add that. He raise his arm slightly. "Broken wrist." Dean noticed an ice pack on Bobby's knee. Following his gaze, he finished with, "And a dislocated knee cap."
Dean grimaced. "Bet that hurt."
"I was lucky, didn't need surgery. He pushed it back in place. Once the anaesthetic wears off, I might need to use this."
He held up a prescription for painkillers. Dean had one of his own in his pocket.
"And use these stupid things." He gripped as he pulled a set of crutches out from beside his chair.
Dean chuckled. Bobby wasn't as young as he used to be, but he was very self-sufficient and tough. Being forced to rely on the crutches to get around was going to make him cranky.
Jack had a small gin as well and shared a look with Dean.
All good humor quickly faded though, as the doctor who had wheeled Sam off came through the doors and his eyes found them. He looked grim and Dean felt his heart plummet.
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The man approached the small family with lead in his gut. He noticed Jack and briefly wondered why he was here. Shifting his gaze back to the brothers eyes, they were so desperate for favorable news. He was full of regret he just couldn't give it to him.
He stopped in front of them. "Family of Sam Jones?" As if he had to ask. "I'm Dr. Richards. Sam's primary physician."
Dean snapped to attention. "How's Sam?"
The doctor sighed and motioned as if asking for permission to sit. Getting it, he sat next to the older brother. "Your brother's case is very complicated. There are a lot of factors working against him and we aren't sure what's causing it."
Dean swallowed hard. He had a good idea. The damn demons and his freaking visions.
"When he arrived he was in respiratory arrest. Having already crashed once, we were afraid if he continued to struggle it would cause him to fall into cardiac arrest. This is why we had to do a endotracheal intubation. To help him take strain off his lungs and body. The vent is breathing for him now."
"So how long will he need to stay on this vent? He'll be okay right?"
Dr. Richards looked at him. "We hope so, but to be honest, we don't know."
Dean felt as if he was spinning. Bobby grabbed his arm. "Deep breaths, Dean."
He gulped and gazed at Richards with watery green eyes. "Could Sam die?"
"Yes, I'm afraid it's a possibility. Things are very touch and go right now."
Dean was glad Bobby had hold of him. He felt he could slide right into the floor.
"Our biggest issue is pin pointing what's wrong. We don't know what's causing this. He didn't look as if he'd encountered the same damage as the both of you. Do you know if he was hit in the attack?"
"Uh," Dean cleared his throat. "It all happened so fast."
The doctor nodded. "We'd like to do an MRI on Sam now that he's stable."
"You think there's something wrong in his brain?" Dean asked in dread. What if these visions had really messed Sam up?
"I can't say, but most of our other exams and tests turned up no cause for his symptoms. It's possible he took a blow to the head and internal injuries are a factor."
"Can I see him?"
The doctor looked sympathetic as he said, "You can once we do the scan, but I'm afraid right now he's unresponsive to outside stimuli." The fear in Dean spiked as he had a good idea what was coming next. "He's in a coma."
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Dean sat quietly next to Sam's bed holding his hand. If Sam were awake he'd tease him about breaking his 'No chick flicks' rule. Right now he just didn't care. He needed to feel Sam's hand, to know he was alive and still with him.
Jack had finally excused himself to go home for a while. He said he'd stop by to check in on Sam before his shift. Bobby had stayed for a while but now was off in search of a decent coffee. They were still waiting on the test results. And now Dean was alone, holding his brothers hand and trying to will him to wake up. He wasn't sure Sam could hear him, but he kept talking anyway. Letting him know he was there. Waiting.
"Hey Sammy, you better wake up soon man. You've got one hot nurse taking care of ya. I think she has a thing for wussy guys 'cause she's always stopping in here to check on you."
There was no reaction to his banter. Not even a twitch of his eyelids. Dean's own eyes burned again and he cleared his throat.
"I'll get her number for ya. You can use a date." Looking at his brother so pale and still he felt his chest clench. "Sammy." He whispered jaggedly. "Don't die on me."
Bobby was standing at the door, having returned a moment ago, and stood watching the scene with his own heart aching. He loved these boys. They didn't deserve the bad luck that always found them. He stepped away from the door and made enough sound to announce his approach. Giving Dean time to pull himself together. He entered the room, cups in hand and held one out. Dean sucked in a breath and blew it as he stretched and took the coffee.
"Thanks Bobby."
He nodded and took a sip from his cup.
"For everything." Dean added softly.
Bobby looked at him confused.
"For saving our asses. For taking care of us. Just for uh," He shifted, uncomfortable with this but needing to say it. "Being here."
Bobby grunted. "Boy you don't need to thank me for anything. You two are family."
Dean gave him a small smile. He was glad Bobby was here. He felt like he wanted to fall apart, but he wouldn't let him. He was here for them both. Which was good because they had to find a way to help Sam and Bobby knew his stuff. He hadn't had time to run his theory by him yet, but he was almost sure the visions were causing Sam's condition. If they could find a way to stop them, Sam would get better. The idea that the damage could remain was one Dean refused to entertain.
He was just about to broach the subject when a soft knock came from behind. They both turned to the door, finding Dr. Richards there. He held a folder in his hand. He walked in. "We have the test results. I'd like to go over them with you." He addressed Dean, but knew 'Uncle Bobby' would be just as involved in this discussion, so he got right to it. Never being one to beat around the bush.
"The scans came back mostly clean," He pulled them out and laid them on the top of the folder. Pointing to certain areas in the print outs, showing Dean and Bobby what was normal and what wasn't. "The scans show a small subdural hematoma, but the extent of it isn't what we usually see associated with a head trauma. What we're seeing is typical of a Grand Mal seizure. We aren't sure what set it off, but the chain reaction from it is what's causing Sam's condition."
He looked intently at them both. "Do either of you know if Sam has been feeling odd lately? Headaches? Tremors? Any sort of signs leading to this onset?"
Dean was gritting his teeth. Only the whole past week. "No. Nothing like that."
The doctor sighed, disappointed. "Alright.' He stood. "Well if you think of anything, let us know. Right now the hematoma is small enough we don't believe we'll need to shunt it." At Dean's blank look he explained. "Inserting a tube to drain the collected blood from the brain."
Both men turned a little green at the suggestion they may need to poke a hole in Sam's head. "But if he's not that bad, why hasn't he woken up?" Bobby asked.
"His body had been through a lot of needs time to heal. He may wake up as early as the next few days, or it could be longer. And when he does wake up, there might be a few complications."
Dean's brows rose. "Such as?" He didn't like the sound of that.
The doctor noticed Dean's unease. "I don't want to worry you Mr. Jones. I just wanted you to be aware of the possibilities. It could be any number of things or he might be fine."
"And if he's not? What are the possibilities?"
"Changes in his personality, mental abilities or emotions. Speech problems. Loss of sensation, problems with his hearing or vision. We have no way of knowing until Sam wakes up."
Both men were silent as they tried to absorb all the overwhelming information. The doctor patted Dean's shoulder. "I know it's a lot, but I promise you no matter what, we'll do the best we can for him."
He cleared his suddenly dry throat. "Thanks Doc."
Dr. Richards nodded, then to Bobby and walked out to go make his rounds.
"Holy crap." He whispered. "What do we do Bobby? What if Sam has side affects from those seizures?"
Bobby straightened his back, trying to speak with more confidence than he felt. "Then we'll deal with it. There's no point getting worked up before it happens. It might not."
Dean sat back in his chair and looked over at Sam. "Yeah." He said softly. "Okay."
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Hours later, Dean was alone with Sam once again. When he'd finally come to grips with the prognosis, he'd decided to tell Bobby about his theory on Sam's visions and his condition. He agreed with Dean and they'd discussed what to do from there.
Since Sam and his visions were special, tied to the loosed demons, they would need to find a way to break that tie. If they couldn't then they would try and find a way to bind his powers. Only problem was that was easier said than done. Bobby had gone back to the motel to grab some things and see if he could find anything in what he brought with him. He didn't want to start calling his contacts until he had to. The less people who knew about this the better. He had a huge library at home, he'd comb it all if he needed to. They would find a way.
Author's Note: I hope my medical lingo is correct here. I used my viewing of medical shows and advice from my friend Jess, a nursing student. Thanks again for your help!