Teaser: Be prepared as the 'real' world threatens to get in the way of the hunt…
Disclaimer: As usual, not mine… not feeling particularly witty, so that's it. Saving my energy for the story ahead…
Chapter Two
Delaying The Hunt
Sam had changed for gym, keeping his jersey on in spite of how hot it had gotten. He couldn't risk anyone seeing the bruises on his back, just like Dean had been worried about, but at the same time he knew that his training and his being allowed to stay on the hunt depended on him staying fit and strong. Sam had been hunting for a few years now, having started hunting younger than Dean had but he'd been determined to make sure that his father and brother didn't get hurt anymore. He knew now that he couldn't have done much back then to stop it, but now he was older and stronger he knew he could make a difference. He wished his father could see that but he wasn't going to kid himself that his father would think him anything more than a hindrance. Still, John wanted his boys to grow up like soldiers, so he hadn't argued when Sam had insisted he start training harder than before, pleading with his father to prepare him for the next hunt.
Now, however, Sam took his own training upon himself. At least the physical side of things, anyway. He ran laps, he swam every chance he got, he participated religiously in gym class and took everything on the way he thought his father would take on each battle he faced. He was competitive and strong, and he usually won whatever he was playing at. Some of the other boys in his class didn't like him because they couldn't beat him, his natural athletic abilities teamed with his life or death determination made him an impossible opponent to beat, and yet they all fought to have him on their team.
Today, however, was track. Sam liked track, it was time he could run and think and focus, without worrying about anyone bugging him or threatening him or trying to get him to carry a whole team. He knew he was fast enough to beat anyone there, but he was there to train, to work on his speed and resilience and endurance.
"Winchester!" Coach Mortimer called to him. "You wearing a sweater for any particular reason?"
"Yes, Coach," Sam told him honestly. "Working on being able to run in any weather under any conditions, Coach."
Coach Mortimer smiled. He was a tough man, though nothing compared to John Winchester. His classes were rough, but John Winchester's training was rougher. The other kids complained, but this was a holiday to Sam and he knew how to work his way around the Coach to get what he needed out of each class.
"Good idea, Winchester. I like you're way of thinking," he announced. "Start your laps, Winchester. You got your stopwatch?"
"Yes sir."
"Good, go!" Coach instructed.
Sam took off at a trot to head for the track. He pulled his stopwatch out and set it read to go, grimacing when he heard Coach Mortimer's next words.
"One in, all in as the Navy would say!" he announced, a new tone to his voice. "Back to the locker rooms and put on your sweaters! It's about time you all learned a bit of durability!"
Sam rolled his eyes, regretting that his need to hide bruises from the coach would make everyone else suffer. They would really hate having a Winchester in their class if this kept up he realised. He hit the button on the stopwatch and took off to do his first lap.
His back was aching, every step putting strain on sore muscles and bruised flesh. He felt the cuts on his arm starting to rub against their dressings, but he ignored it. He would get a chance later to fix that up later, right now he was going to use this as an opportunity to push through the pain and learn to fight in spite of his physical condition. He would use exercise to work out sore muscles and become stronger, just like Dean. He wouldn't be the weak member of the herd anymore, as his father said every so often. Usually it was when Sam complained about not being allowed to split up from his brother on a hunt, his father would say, "That's ridiculous, Sammy. You don't make it easy for an opponent to pick off the weak member of the herd!"
The words his father liked to use to keep him in line stung, but now they gave him the motivation he needed to push through the pain and discomfort he needed to run faster than ever before. He saw red blurs heading toward the track as the other students arrived with their sweaters on, but he ignored them and kept running. He sensed people watching him, talking about him, but he didn't care. Nothing was going to stop him, nothing could get in his way…
Until Coach blew the final whistle, calling everyone in from the track and announcing that class was over. Sam glanced at the stopwatch, seeing that all his lap times had improved by a little over a second. He'd reached a personal best and it made him feel much better than he had since the hunt last night that had made him feel completely useless. Dean shouldn't have gotten hurt, Sam knew he should have been able to protect his older brother. Dean had, after all, always protected Sam… it should be able to work the other way around.
He felt completely ready to face the creature again, determination in every step as he made his way to the locker room.
As Sam headed toward the locker room, Brooster reached him. Brooster was an older kid but he was in Sam's class because Sam had gone up a level already. They were teamed up together in a track meet the following month, and although they weren't exactly friends Brooster had been talking to him a bit the passed week since Sam had beaten him at practice race the previous week.
"Hey, Coach says you set a new record," Brooster greeted him. "Way to go!"
"Thanks," Sam smiled, hoping this new friendly attitude of Brooster's would last. It wasn't fun being hated and in demand at the same time.
"Here," Brooster handed him a bottle of water. "Coach doesn't want you collapsing from heat or something…"
Sam accepted the drink and drained it quickly, relieving the dryness in his throat before it became too painful. Things were looking up – he'd set a new record, the coach was proud of him, Brooster was being nice to him, and he had a lead on the demon they were hunting… finally, things were going right!
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John watched Dean sleeping fitfully on top of the covers. The room wasn't as dark as he would've liked to make it for his son, but it was the best he could do. There wasn't enough light to read by, but he borrowed Sam's bed and forced his eyes to adjust as he went over Sam's notes from the night before. He could see that Sam had followed a couple of leads and come up with some better suggestions of what the demon was, but he wasn't quite there yet. Still, with the new information the boy had taken note of from the failed hunt the night before, he had better theories than John had had going into it.
He was angry, more than a little angry, that he hadn't been given more information going in. He had inherited this hunt from Joshua, a good friend of his, and he found it hard to believe that he hadn't thought to explain things a little better. Deciding to get to the bottom of the issue with his friend, he snatched up his cell phone and headed out of the room. He left the door ajar so he could keep an eye on Dean. He was more worried than he would let on, migraines could be debilitating and Dean had never had one before. John pushed his concern aside, assuring himself Dean could sleep it off and be ready for the hunt that night – assuming Sammy had figured things out, of course. It was a lot of responsibility to put on the kids shoulders, but Sam seemed to thrive on the research, and John had been working on it all day and hadn't gotten much further than his younger son. He was stuck with the texts that he had here, and Sam had obviously taken some books with him… he knew the information he needed was probably in those books, and he hoped that, if nothing else, Sam would bring them home after school in enough time for him to be able to do some reading.
Just in case Sam didn't have the answers John needed.
John dialled Joshua's number and waited for his friend to answer. He did, on the fifth ring, and he sounded tired.
"Hey John man, how you doing?" Joshua greeted him. "How's the hunt?"
"It sucks, to be honest," John snapped. "You gave me nothing to go on, Josh, and the people here are more closed mouth than… well, I've met more talkative ghosts in my time! You could've told me what we were walking in on."
"Whoa, John, I told you everything I knew, okay?" Joshua told him. "I thought chaos demon, I didn't know anything more than the towns people were willing to talk about… did something happen?"
"Yeah, this ain't no damned chaos demon, and it took my fourteen year old son to figure that out!" John snapped.
"Way to go, Sammy!" Joshua cheered proudly.
"Yeah, well you obviously didn't get the memo, but it's Sam now… and as usual I figured that I – and the fully grown hunter who handballed me this deal – knew better, so I ignored him," John snapped again. Glancing in at Dean, sleeping, pale with a light sheen of sweat on his brow, he felt anger growing even hotter in his blood. "It nearly got them killed!"
Joshua was quiet.
"Are they okay?" he asked at last.
"No thanks to you or me," John admitted, softening as he realised that Sam had also disagreed with his decision to split up and because he had insisted he hadn't been there to protect his boys. "You should've told me more, Josh."
"I didn't have anything else to tell you," Joshua told him. "I told you I'd only just started the hunt when I got called to Indiana… there was nothing I could do. John, I'm sorry…"
John sighed.
"Sam's on the research," John told his friend, closing his eyes. "I don't know how this kid does it, but he finds resources that I have never even heard of… he's got it narrowed down to four demons at the moment from what I can tell, and that's a damn sight closer than I came…"
"Me too," Joshua agreed. "The kids scary smart, John."
"Tell me about it," John sighed. He heard Dean muttering in his sleep. "I gotta go, I gotta check on Dean."
"Is he okay?" Joshua asked, concern in his voice.
"He's got one hell of a headache," John told him. "He'll be fine, but I have to get some more pills into him before he gets the nausea part of a migraine too…"
John hung up and hurried back inside to tend to his older son. Migraines could last days, John knew. He really hoped Dean would be able to recover quicker than that, this creature had already had one more night to hurt someone else, and John didn't want to sit around for another night while it happened again.
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Sam stepped out of his shower cubicle fully clothed, still remembering Dean's warning about the bruises on his back. No way he was going to rain anymore trouble on his family, no way he would give anyone the opportunity to take him from them. He had to be there, if for no other reason than to make sure they didn't get themselves killed. Sam knew they were better able to protect him than he was able to protect them, but he was training harder all the time to fix that and it made him feel better to know that he was with them on a hunt anyway.
He felt energised and excited, ready to take on the world and beat the demon down single-handedly if he had to, after a particularly successful training session. Today had gone a lot better than he had expected it to, and he was tempted to run home and fill his father in on everything he knew about the demon so they could start the hunt…
"Hey, Winchester," Brooster called to him. "Better shift your ass, Coach is calling!"
Sam's smile was replaced with a scowl. Brooster was grinning at him with a smug look on his face.
"Yeah," Sam answered back shortly.
"Yeah, he wants his little pet to come out and tell everyone how he's the best and the brightest and what his secret is!" Brooster told him. "He likes 'em quick, you know?"
Sam shook his head as Brooster walked out of the locker room, and grabbed his bag. He was pissed off, sick of Brooster's attitude. One minute he was being nice and encouraging, the next minute he suggests that Sam had something going with the coach? That was disgusting, it was just…
As fury rushed through Sam's body he realised he had run after Brooster and grabbed him by his shirt, throwing him against the wall. Brooster tried to move, to push Sam aside, but Sam pushed him against the wall again, raising his knee into the older boys stomach. Brooster doubled over, grabbed his abdomen and stumbled away from Sam… but Sam launched himself at him and knocked him to the ground, pressing down on his chest with his knees and raising his fist.
"Winchester!" Coach Mortimer yelled, grabbing Sam's arm before he could hit the boy. "What's gotten into you?!?!"
Sam spun around and took a swing at the coach, but the man ducked and grabbed Sam again to hold him back. Sam struggled a moment before relaxing and trying to catch his breath.
"He said… he said…" Sam stammered, trying to explain what had happened. He wasn't entirely sure he knew what had happened, but at least he could tell the coach what he did know. "He said you were… and I… and he was saying…"
"Whoa, kid, slow down," Coach Mortimer told him, letting him go carefully. "Why don't you go and get a drink, calm down a bit and then meet me at the headmasters office, okay? We'll talk about it there… but Sam… I can't have you beating the crap out of the other students, you understand?"
Sam nodded, blinking his eyes in confusion.
"Go, before I make you run more laps…"
Sam headed off to find a phone, not caring about getting a drink or clearing his head. His mind was on the hunt and struggling to process what had just happened. He wasn't normally one for getting into fights, his father had taught him to only use his training to defend himself, never to use it to hurt someone and Sam knew how close he had come to hurting Brooster.
He dialled his father's cell phone and waited.
"John Winchester," came the hushed voice of his father.
"Dad?" Sam asked, feeling agitated but unable to hide his surprise at his father's hushed tone.. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, Sammy, just fine," John assured him. "Dean's resting, he's got a bit of a headache."
Sam hesitated. He knew Dean hadn't been well earlier that morning, he should have stayed home after all! Dean had suggested it, and Sam hadn't listened…
"Maybe I should come home," Sam told him, anxiety rising in his chest, threatening to explode in spectacular fashion as his stomach began churning with unease.
"No, Sammy, it's okay," John told him. "I have everything under control here, you don't have to worry… okay?"
Sam sighed. He was feeling like crap… he'd thought things were going really well not so long ago, and now, all of a sudden, he felt like his world had been turned upside down and everything was collapsing around him. He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't seem to think straight.
"Okay Dad," he agreed at last. His head was swimming a little and his stomach churned again. "I wanted to give you…"
Sam trailed off. Things were starting to blur, his head was starting to ache.
"Sam?" John called, his voice louder this time. "Sam, talk to me!"
Sam grabbed the side of the phone for balance as his legs threatened to give out from under him. He felt like his heart was racing…
"Dad?" Sam gasped, pain in his chest. "Dad, I… I can't…"
"Sam, what's wrong?" John called out to him.
Sam stumbled from the phone, dropping it as he turned. He looked around him, the world spinning as he took each step. He searched for someone to help him, but he couldn't make out anything more than fuzzy images, blurry colours… sounds around him became deafening… he could hear his breathing coming out in painful gasps, his whole body felt like it was on fire, it felt like his heart was going to explode out his chest…
He felt his head collide with something and then saw nothing but bright lights…
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John snapped his phone shut and dropped it on the bed, frustration and fear racing through his body as he wondered what had happened to Sam. He had sounded strained but okay, and then his voice had begun to fade and suddenly… suddenly he just wasn't there. John began pacing the room, uncertain as to what he should do. Should he go to the school? Should he call someone? He didn't know who to call or where to start looking for him… he didn't even know what Sam had been calling about!
John felt so useless. He glanced over at Dean to see he was staring up at him.
"What's wrong?" Dean asked, pulling himself to sit up. John could still see the headache was bothering him, but he seemed a little more steady than he had a few hours ago. Maybe he was finally on the mend.
"Nothing, son," John lied. "Get some rest…"
"That's crap," Dean snapped, climbing out of bed carefully. "You were talking to Sam and now you're pacing like your hopped up on espresso… what's wrong?"
John sighed. He should have known Dean was listening in. Nothing much got passed Dean, especially when it concerned his brother.
"I don't know," John admitted. He opened his mouth to say something when his phone rang on the bed behind him. He snatched it up and flipped it open. "Sammy?"
"Mr Winchester, this is Coach Mortimer," a man's voice came through the line, sounding tense and worried. "I have Sam here… I've called an ambulance…"
"We're on our way," John told him, snatching up the keys to the Impala and indicating Dean should grab his boots and jacket. "What happened?"
"I'm not entirely sure," Coach Mortimer told him. "He collapsed…"
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Dean tapped furiously at the dash board as he waited to reach Sam's school. His father was driving and it was one time that he wanted to bark at his father to hurry up. Normally John drove fast enough to satisfy Dean in his least patient mood, but today he was considering ways to create and instant transportation device… his brother had collapsed and he wasn't there with him! Dean had never been more frustrated in his life.
"Could you cool it?" John snapped at him, not taking his eyes off the road as he tried to overtake a truck that was driving way too slow for his liking. "You're driving me nuts!"
"Well, if Grandma would get out of the way and you'd get round that stupid heap, then I might not be tapping right now," Dean snapped back. "I'd be with Sam instead!"
"I want to get to Sam too, Dean, but if we get ourselves killed…"
"That's not the point, Dad," Dean told him. His tone had a warning undercurrent in it and he wondered where he'd gotten that from. Must have been from his father, he decided. "If this thing was dual drive, I swear…"
John sighed and hit his foot on the accelerator, swerving into the other lane and pushing the Impala passed it's limits until he got passed the truck. He didn't bother slowing down until he turned the ten minute drive into seven minutes, pulling up at the school as they saw Sam on a stretcher being rushed toward a waiting ambulance.
"Oh my god," Dean hissed, jumping out of the car and rushing toward his brother. "Sam!"
Sam was conscious, but barely. His eyes were glazed over, his pupils dilated and he was sweating.
"Sam? Can you hear me?" Dean called, reaching for his brother. Sam was shaking even under the blankets he was wrapped in and Dean was panicked. He had never seen his brother like this before… "What's wrong with him?"
"Are you family?" one of the paramedics asked him.
"I'm his brother," Dean answered.
"I'm his father," John announced as he followed along behind Dean.
"What'd he take, son?" the paramedic asked, stepping aside as his partner loaded Sam into the ambulance.
"What?" Dean asked, confused.
"You have to tell me what he's on so we know what we're dealing with," he continued. The man glanced at John. "I know you don't want to get him into trouble, but…"
Dean shook his head.
"No, Sammy doesn't do drugs," Dean insisted, looking at his father. "Dad, I swear, Sammy wouldn't do drugs!"
John nodded.
"I know that," John assured him. "Where are you taking him?"
"Saint Anne's," was the answer. "One of you riding along?"
"I will," Dean announced quickly. He jumped into the back of the ambulance and took a seat as close to his brother as he could, resting his hand on Sam's forehead hoping he would know he wasn't alone. The paramedic had spoken quickly to John before hurrying to the drivers side.
"You've really gotta tell us what he's on," he called to Dean over his shoulder as he hit the siren. "His heart rates dangerously high, his temperature has shot through the roof… he's overdosed on something and if you don't tell us what he's taking he could have a heart attack or something…"
Sirens, Dean thought. Sirens are bad…
"He's not on anything," Dean insisted, shaking his head. He heard the catch in his voice that warned tears were threatening, but his blinked them back. This was scarier than the demon had been… "He's a good kid, he wouldn't…"
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"Sir, I'm sorry, but it's clear to me that you're sons taken something…"John refused to believe it as he headed straight for the Impala to follow the ambulance to the hospital. His son, his little boy, would never do drugs! With all the scary shit they faced in their lives, drugs would be the furthest thing from his mind! He knew he had to be alert at all times, that he had to keep his mind active… he knew there had to be more to this than drugs.
In the Winchester life, drugs didn't make sense… Dean's headache and nearly crashing the car… Sammy's collapse… there had to be more going on here than just drugs. Drugs was the answer that normal parents used when their kids collapsed, but not Sam… not his Sammy…
"It's important that we find out what he's taken, we need to know how much damage he's done and what to expect…"
John had given the same answer every time. My son doesn't do drugs, he thought angrily.
"Mr Winchester?" a man, slightly shorter than John but equally as buff, ran over to him. John assumed he was Sam's coach and he pulled the door open. "I know you have to get to the hospital, but I wanted to tell you… Sam's a good kid, but I'm worried about him. He got into a fight a little while ago with a bigger kid and…"
"My boy doesn't fight," John gasped, closing his eyes. "He knows better than that, he could hurt someone…"
"Well, normally I'd be worried about someone hurting Sam but today… he just looked… he looked so… I really thought he was going to take the kids head off," Coach Mortimer sighed finally. "I don't want to think he'd be on drugs, but that sort of aggression, especially when it comes out of nowhere, well… it's a key indicator."
John glared at the man, anger rising in his chest.
"My son doesn't do drug," John growled at him before getting in the car and gunning the engine. The ambulance had a head start and the sirens were going, John didn't have time to sit around talking crap with a coach that thought he knew Sam better than he did.
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Dean felt something change in Sam before anyone had even noticed. Sam's body had tensed suddenly and before Dean realised what was happening the paramedic was restraining him.
"He's convulsing!" he called to the driver. "Floor it! We're gonna lose him!"
"Sam?" Dean cried, hoping his brother could hear him.
"I need you to sit back," the paramedic told him as Sam began lashing out at him. "Don't touch him!"
Sam was trying to hit the man, trying to bite him, anything to let him go… and then his body relaxed. There was only a moment of peace, however, as a second convulsion hit the youngest Winchester, worse than the first. Sam's eyes rolled back, his jaw was set awkwardly and his fingers were curling up on themselves at what looked like an awkward angle.
Dean couldn't catch his breath as he watched the paramedic struggling to control the boy as the ambulance raced toward the hospital. Dean's whole world was giving way around him as everything he thought he knew came into question. He knew Sam would never do drugs, and yet he knew that these were some classic symptoms…
The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the emergency room and Dean suddenly found himself running alongside the stretcher as they burst inside.
"What have we got?" a doctor called, matching the paramedics pace.
"Drug overdose," the driver announced, pumping the oxygen mask by hand to regulate Sam's breathing. "Looks like crystal meth…"
Dean tried to follow them through the doors, but an orderly grabbed him and pulled him away.
"You can't go in there," he told Dean.
"That's my brother," Dean yelled, pushing the man away. "I have to be there!"
"You have to trust them to take care of him! Believe me, you wont want to be in there for some of this," the orderly told him, pushing him back out into the waiting room. "The doctor will come out and talk to you in a while, okay?"
Dean stared at the door, his head throbbing and his heart racing. He ran his hands through his hair and pressed them against his temples as he tried to fight to regain the reality he had always known.
This could not be happening…
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John raced into the emergency room, stopping suddenly when he saw Dean sitting in a seat directly across the doors. He had his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands and he looked so small that John didn't know what to do. Dean's shoulders were shaking and he knew that his older son was crying… he hurried to his side and put his hand on his son's shoulder.
The eyes that looked up at him were red raw from crying and the devastation that John saw filled him with fear.
"Did they say anything?" John asked, sitting beside Dean.
Dean shook his head.
"They think it's crystal meth," Dean whispered, swallowing hard and brushing his tears away. "Based on his symptoms, I guess."
"What symptoms? What's crystal meth?" John asked. He'd never had to worry about drugs with his boys, and now he wished he had.
"Speed," Dean told him gently, looking back at his shaking hands. "Sam's heart rate was through the roof, his temperature was way too high… I don't know how high, but high enough that he started convulsing in the car."
"Jesus," John whispered, hanging his head in his hands in much the same way that Dean had been moments before.
"Speed can cause a lot of problems, Dad…" Dean told him. "I don't know what they're doing in there, but…"
"Winchester?" a voice called. John and Dean shot to their feet and met the doctor as he headed toward them. "I'm Doctor Hargitay, I'm treating Sam along with Doctor Thomas who is still back there with the team…"
"How is he?" John asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.
"We've got him stabilised, his heart rates still too high and his temperature is up too, but we're working on that," Hargitay told him. "It looks like he's taken crystal meth… does he have any heart conditions we should know about?"
John shook his head.
"He's always been really healthy," Dean added.
"Well, that's something at least," Hargitay said. "His blood pressure is up and we've had to restrain him…"
"Restrain him?" John asked. "What for?"
"Speed can make a patient violent, Mr Winchester, and from what we've been told by the paramedics your son certainly qualifies," he explained. "He got violent in the ambulance, and got into a fight with one of his fellow students and a teacher… we have to protect ourselves, but it's mostly to stop Sam from hurting himself."
"Sam wouldn't take drugs," Dean snapped, walking away a moment to regain his composure while he fought to understand what was going on. John wondered if Dean had heard anything else the doctor had said, but he was sure he had.
"The biggest thing we're worried about is that speed can cause a heart attack, stroke or even a coma… we're moving him to a room in a couple of hours, but we still have some work to do," Hargitay explained. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more, but I really have to get back to your son…"
John nodded and watched the doctor walk away.
"Did he say heart attack?" Dean gasped, looking at John with wide eyes.
"He said there's a risk of heart attack, stroke or coma, but so far Sam's okay," John assured him. "Dean, I need you to relax, okay? I have to ask you…"
Dean sat on the chair again, looking drained of all strength as John stood beside him.
"Is it possible that Sam would have taken something?" John asked him. He thought he knew his boys, but he knew that he didn't know either of them as well as they knew each other. He was proud of the bond they shared, and also a little jealous that he didn't get to be a part of it. He always had to be training them and teaching them, he didn't get the chance to bond with them the way he wanted to.
"No," Dean answered.
"Are you sure?" John asked. "Maybe he was rebelling? Or maybe it was because he was up all the time researching with us and then had to go to school? He's been training hard to, I mean… is it possible?"
Dean shook his head again.
"No way in hell, Dad," Dean insisted, getting to his feet angrily and approaching his father as if he were ready to fight anyone that would accuse his brother of taking drugs. "Sammy wouldn't do that, it's just not who he is!"
"Okay, Dean," John assured him gently. "I had to ask…"
"Besides, there's no way I could have missed that," Dean added. "No way he could have gotten it passed me… he wouldn't…"
"Okay, son," John nodded, pulling Dean into his arms and holding him tight, pressing Dean's head gently against his shoulder and squeezing the back of his neck reassuringly. "We'll sort this out, it'll be okay…"
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It was several hours later when John and Dean were finally allowed to see Sam. Dean was alarmed to walk in and find Sam with restraints around his arms and legs, and clearly sedated as he lay still against the pillows. He had an oxygen mask on as well, but Dean could tell his breathing had evened out and the heart monitor showed that his heart rate was lower – though still up from where it should be.
Dean hated to see Sam like that, particularly in restraints. Sam would hate that, he knew. He'd hate being unable to move, unable to control his own body… that's one of the reasons he knew Sam wouldn't take drugs. He was so conscious of being able to take care of himself and part of that depended on being able to control himself. He didn't see the point in drinking, partying and doing drugs because it slowed the reflexes and dulled response time… no way Sam would risk that, especially not with this hunt hanging over their heads.
"Dad," Dean whispered, looking up at his father and taking his little brother's hand in his at the same time. He closed his eyes, wishing that everything would just go away and their lives could be normal again. "How could this have happened? Sam wouldn't take drugs…"
John nodded.
"I wondered if this… thing from last night had something to do with it," he sighed, looking down at Sam. "I mean, first your headache and now this… you two are the ones who came up against it and you're the only ones showing any symptoms."
"Yeah, it's weird, but come on… a headache versus all this?" Dean exclaimed, indicating the room and the machines that were monitoring Sam. "There's something not right here, Dad… but it cant be that de… that thing… why would it give me a headache and do all this to Sam? And how could it?"
John shrugged.
"It was just a theory," he admitted. "I think Sam was calling me to tell me something, and now… well, I don't know what it was… I wonder if I'll ever find out."
"What?!" Dean snapped, glaring at his father. "Of course you will! Sam will tell just as soon as he wakes up!"
"Dean…"
"What the hell are you saying?" Dean asked, fire burning in his chest. "You don't think he'll wake up? Is that it? You think he's going to die?"
"Dean, that's not what I mean," John interrupted him quickly. "I'm sorry, I just meant that I called Joshua and told him to get down here. We're not hunting that thing with Sam in this condition, he needs at least a week the doctor said and then we'll see… meanwhile someone has to be out there on damage control. I meant that I might never find out because we've got so much else going on…"
Dean glared at his father but swallowed his anger and looked down at Sam.
"You're going to be fine, little brother," Dean told him. "You have to be…"
To Be Continued...
A/N - Well, this is an unusual turn for the Winchester's, but read on to find out what it all means!!!
