Sorry for not posting yesterday, I fell asleep halfway through editing this chapter, head on the keyboard typing gobledigook :S Anyway, here we are, two more chapters to go. Both with older Dean and one with a guest appearance from Cas, because no supernatural fanfic is the same without my angel…
Enjoy xxx
Chapter 5
Dean jolted awake with a gasp, drenched in sweat and panting hard as if he had run a marathon, or as if he had been let out of a tiny dark hole without oxygen, which had been what he was dreaming about.
"Dean?" John blinked up at his son blearily from his hunched position, having heard his eldest son crying out in his sleep and yelling "let me out…don't…please. The chairs in hospital were not any comfier than he remembered and it felt as if someone had hung him from the ceiling by his throat judging by the pain in his neck.
"M'fine."
"Sure?" John rubbed at his eyes blearily and looked at his son, who frankly appeared ghastly.
"Yeah. It's just, my leg hurts a bit." But that wasn't what was bothering him.
"Want me to take a look?"
"Yeah, I need the toilet anyway."
"Fine." John quickly gave Sam a once over before watching Dean hobble to his feet and make his way out of the corridor and into the bathroom.
John sat Dean down on the lid of a toilet and checked his leg over, it had bled through the bandages and there was some yellow gunge visible. John had hoped the infection wouldn't get this bad, but he had come prepared with some antibiotics from the Impala's trunk. Dean took them gratefully before looking awkwardly at his Dad, who got up and was about to make himself look busy at the sink when Dean called him.
"Dad, the lock's broken, can you hold the door for me." It was a downright lie, but for once Dean was willing to deceive his father. He just didn't want to lock the door, it would be too much like shutting himself in deliberately, and if he got stuck then… Dean swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat and the thought and forced himself to breathe deeply, otherwise his dad would know there was something wrong.
"Dean, just go, I'll make sure no one goes in." John had a sneaking suspicion that Dean was lying to him and just didn't want to shut the door, but he wanted to get Dean back to normal as soon as possible. The sooner Dean faced his fears the better.
When Dean was done and had regained control of his breathing he made his way back to Sam, cringing at the narrow corridors and feeling sweat trickling down the back of his neck. God he just wanted to get to their next motel and forget all about this!
When they got back to the Sam was still sleeping, his chest rising and falling evenly and his arms hugging the pillow where Dean had been tight. Dean drew up one of the uncomfortable chairs and settled down next to Sam, staring at his brother's sleeping form and wishing that he had been able to do something to save him from at least some of the pain. He would have willingly taken it all away onto his own body if he could.
When Sam finally stirred he saw Dean right away, his older brother reading a car magazine and looking rather distracted, and pale.
"Morning sunshine."
"Hey Dean."
"Hey lazy ass, I swear you could sleep through a hurricane!"
"Dean, are you ok? You don't look too good"
"You can talk, you look like a mummy."
"You look like a zombie. You're all pale, and you look like your gonna puke."
"Well I'm not, so shut your cake hole." Dean gave Sam a gentle shove before turning his attention back to his magazine, aware of the fact that John had closed the door behind them. However, he relaxed when a nurse came in with some pills for Sam and to check over his leg, leaving the door open behind her.
"Do you think he can go home now? It's just Sam has an essay to do for school and we don't want to waste any of your limited time." John gave the nurse his most charming smile and grinned when she said that it seemed as though Sam would make a full recovery and was free to go.
Of course, he had been warned to keep the weight off of his leg and to use crutches for the next month, but at least he could go back to school and maybe Mr Dant would let him off for handing in his essay late.
Dean was also glad; he would be able to escape the never-ending narrow corridors and locked doors on every side of him.
They left just before lunch that day, John had promised Dean a burger and Sam a salad at his favourite diner. By the time they got there Dean really did look ready to throw up, or to curl up in a ball and cry. He couldn't really do either though, he didn't want to ruin Baby's upholstery and he couldn't show weakness in front of Sam. The only thing he could do was open the window so he at least felt like he was getting some air.
He gratefully jumped out of the car, stepping away from her and rubbing his head wearily with shaking hands, which he quickly shoved in his jacket pockets before Sam or Dad would notice.
"You alright Dean?"
"Yeah, starvin!"
"Let's go in then."
Half an hour later Dean was shoving his last chilli-fry in his mouth, the wrappings from two double cheeseburgers with bacon, four empty cups of Coke and an empty plate with a few crumbs of pastry the only evidence of his binge.
He really needed to go to the bathroom after the coke but knew that in such a public place, full of young families, he would have to lock the door. Or get his dad to hold it open again, but he hardly thought his dad would fall for the broken lock trick again.
"Dad, do you need the toilet?"
"No, me and Sammy will wait here for you." Dean shot his dad a desperate look but John turned away, feeling ever so slightly guilty about ignoring his son's plea between the lines.
"It's ok, I don't really need to go that bad."
"Dean, we have another 70 miles, go."
"But…"
"That's an order."
"Ok, Dad." Resigned to his fate Dean made his way to the bathroom, steeled himself and shut himself in one of the cubicles, locking the door without looking, maybe he could just trick his mind into thinking it wasn't locked. If he couldn't see it, it couldn't hurt him. But that was ridiculous and Dean knew it. He forced himself to get on with it and with shaking hands he flushed the toilet and unlocked the door. Or at least, he would have done if the lock wasn't jammed. No matter how hard he tried, the lock was stuck, his shaking hands fumbling and being cut by the sharp metal edges of the offending door.
"Dad!" Dean felt sick and promptly threw up the two burgers, extra-large chilli fries and slice of pie which he had eaten, groaning as the room spun around him and he began to choke on the nothingness, as surely there was no more air left in the room for him to inhale and choke on. Dean was vaguely aware of the cheery music being played from loudspeakers before he passed out, his limbs sprawling out across the cold, dirty floor.
"God, what's taking him so long?" John bounced his foot impatiently, Dean was taking an age. He hadn't been this much trouble since before Mary died!
"Do you think we should…?"
"No, he'll come in a minute."
But Dean didn't come.
Suddenly worried, John stood up, paid the bill and helped Sam up on his crutches, making his way to the toilets where his heart froze. All of the cubicles apart from the one closest to the door were empty, leaving the first cubicle, which had an arm sticking out from underneath it.
"Shit! Dean! Dean?" John crouched down on the floor and peered underneath the door. He could make out Dean's chest rising and falling softly, but his son's eyes were closed and it was clear that he had been violently sick.
"Dad?"
"Stand back Sammy, I'm going to knock the door in." John knew that the door would hit Dean's side if he knocked it open, but that was better than leaving his son lying unconscious on the floor.
"Dad, what's wrong with him."
"He's just unconscious." With that John slammed his entire body weight into the door, not even yielding a few millimetres out of it.
"Damn, lock's jammed. Balls!" John realised with sudden clarity what had happened, Dean must have freaked when he realised that he couldn't get out, and he had just left Dean in there, thinking he was being bratty. Damn.
"Dean?" John heard a muffled sob come from under the door and peeked under, seeing Dean's terrified green eyes staring straight back at him.
"Dad! Let me out, please let me out. I can't. Please. Dad I can't breathe. Get me out! I can't get out." Dean's garbled speech was punctuated by loud sobs and hitching breaths and John felt his heart constrict at the pitiful sounds.
"It's ok Dean, I'll get you out. Just get away from the door." John kicked the door with all his might, Sam watching bewildered at this turn of events. Dean was crying?
Dean obeyed, withdrawing from the door and curling up in the smallest ball possible, his arms wrapped around his head.
By the time John managed to kick the door in, Dean was a wreck. He didn't even have the will-power to stand, instead allowing John to carry him out by the sinks.
Uncertainly, Sam went over to his brother, wrapping an arm around his broad, quaking shoulders and resting his head on Dean's chest to let him know he was there. Sam knew it was bad when Dean didn't protest to this chick-flic moment and he shot his Dad worried look, but John just shook his head. He would explain later.
"Dean, are you ok now champ? Do you feel up to leaving?" Dean gave a small nod and wiped his nose and mouth on the back of his sleeve, grimacing and flushing a deep pink. Well that was embarrassing.
The first thing Dean did when they arrived at the motel was to kick off his boots and slump onto the nearest bed, pulling his covers up over his head to make it clear that he wanted to be left alone.
Sam and John respected this, making their way out into the gardens and settling down on a bench when Sam's hands hurt too much from the crutches.
"Dad, what's wrong with him. Why was Dean…y'know. I mean, I don't think less of him, it's just that he never shows any signs of weakness and then suddenly he is passing out and crying."
"Sam, Dean had a panic attack."
"What?"
"It's kind of when you get really scared, but not just, ahh kinda scared, I mean…"
"I know what a panic attack is, I just mean why? What was Dean scared of? What aren't you telling me, he hasn't been right since the mansion!"
"When we were both out of it I think Dean led the poltergeist away from us, to protect us and give us a little time. The thing was that it locked him up in a wardrobe and Dean must have been really scared. He was trapped in there for quite a long time, I had to leave him to get you to hospital and…"
"YOU LEFT HIM!"
"Sam, I had to. You were dying."
"BUT…"
"Don't take that tone with me boy. Just listen. I had to do it, otherwise you would have died. But Dean was in a pretty bad shape when I got back, I think he had been through a fair few panic attacks and he was quite badly hurt. He keeps flipping out now whenever he feels trapped, or like he can't breathe."
"What do you mean keeps? How many has he had?"
"Um, however many there were in the wardrobe, one when I got him out, one in the hospital corridors and one just now."
"Oh god. This is all my fault."
"No it isn't Sam."
"If I hadn't got hurt then…"
"You can't think like that. You have to stay strong for Dean."
"Yes Dad. Sorry." Sam got back to his crutches and hurried back to the motel room, sinking down on Dean's bed and cuddling close to his brother. Dean continued to feign sleep but when Sam prodded him in the side he gave up and peeled open his eyes.
"Dean, are you alright?"
"Peachy."
"I mean it, are you ok?"
"I'd be fine if it wasn't for the bitch prodding me when I'm trying to sleep."
"You sure?"
"Yes, drop it. Do something useful and do your essay."
"I thought essays and school were a waste of time, not useful."
"Don't be cheeky, bitch."
"You and Dad said it, jerk."
"Whatever."
"Right back at you." Sam grinned at his brother as he hit him around the head with a pillow and made his way over to his own bed.
Whatever this was, he was sure Dean would be able to deal with it, probably in his own stubborn 'you will not get the best of me' kind of way.
Please leave a review, they mean a lot…call it an early Christmas present. I howp you are all enjoying the holidays so far, and if you don't celebrate Christmas, have a fabulous couple of weeks off relaxing xxx
