Chapter 17
Dean was floating, which was weird because he couldn't feel the water swishing around when he tried to move his arms. It felt good though, warm and safe and there was nothing, no pain, no cold just a gentle glow around him and contented he allowed himself to drift.
It didn't last.
Voices indistinct and insubstantial invaded his dreams blurring imagination and reality together in a jumbled confusion. Hands touched his limbs, his body, and he struggled trying to get away from the pain of their touch. He heard his name in amongst the unintelligible sounds and tried to respond but the fingers were relentless prodding and poking, causing more and more pain as they touched and touched as they kept on touching and hurting and hurting beyond the ability of his fragile consciousness to cope.
Dean sank down again the noise receding and he was back floating, drifting away from the pain, away from the voices and from himself, back where it was warm and safe, back to a place he never wanted to leave.
XXxxxxxxxx
The hospital scrubs stuck to Sam's back as the sweat soaked the thin material. He felt hot and his skin prickled, over sensitive and tender. He breathed deeply trying to calm himself as black spots danced before his eyes and the blood rushed in his ears. He was not going to pass out.
Getting from his room to the elevator had been easy. No one had looked at Sam as he'd spun the wheels of the chair moving himself swiftly and smoothly to the metal doorway of the elevator. No one had challenged him as he waited for the car and used his upper body strength to pull himself through the doors and there was no one waiting as the doors opened onto level five.
On the floors below the corridors had been busy, crowded with patients, doctors, nurses and a myriad of visitors; nobody noticed him or his wheelchair but here the harsh light and hustle of the main hospital had given way to a calm muted atmosphere. Nurses sat at desks or stood talking in hushed tones bathed in diffused light.
Staring down the corridor Sam had leant his heated forehead against the cool steel of the elevator and wondered how the hell was he going to get to Dean undetected. An insistent buzzing accompanied by a flashing red light had provided the opportunity producing a flurry of activity which had for a few moments left the foyer in front of the elevator empty.
Wasting no time Sam had launched himself across the space scooted around the tall desk that partitioned off the nurse's station from the rest of the area and read the names written on the large white board. The board set out like a plan had Dean's name, Dean Seague, in red about halfway down next to room number 534. As quickly as he'd come Sam had set off checking the numbers beside each door as he wheeled himself past.
His brother's room was the seventh door on the left and holding the handle down with his elbow Sam had awkwardly manoeuvred himself inside, the wheels squeaking on the shiny floor-covering as he turned towards the solitary hospital bed dominating the centre of the room.
Sam drew in a sharp involuntary breath, his eyes widened and a sickening dizziness spun out of control as a fresh flush of heat rushed to the surface of his skin. He felt faint and struggled to pull himself back from the brink of unconsciousness as he stared at his brother. The inhaled breath now rushed from him, he'd been prepared for Dean to look horrendous with machines beeping and tubes sticking out of him; you didn't get a bed in ICU because you had a few scratches but what he wasn't prepared for was, in amongst all the paraphernalia, how small and young Dean looked.
To Sam his brother had always been strong and vital and although Sam himself was physically taller Dean had always to him been the 'bigger' of the two. It must have something to do with being the younger brother but now as Sam slowly approached his brother looked like a little battered kid, black-and-blue bruised and swamped by the white sheeted bed upon which he lay.
"Oh God Dean." Sam's voice was a trembling whisper and his throat grew tight as he swallowed. Reaching out tentatively he stretched his fingers to touch but pulled back suddenly afraid that he might hurt his brother further.
"Dean?"
The room stuffy and overheated closed in around Sam and he felt weak and light-headed his energy suddenly expended. He'd put so much effort into getting here and now that he was he didn't know what to do or if there was anything he could do.
Wheeling the chair as close to the bed as he could Sam gazed at his sleeping brother. Dean still looked like a racoon the band of discoloration around his eyes and across his nose standing out in stark contrast to his skin, pale despite the pink burnt flush. Sam could also see that the mass of bruising covering Dean's torso had spread further storm-clouding across his brother's chest and stomach, disappearing down underneath the light cover.
Biting on his lip Sam looked once more at his brother's face and up to the white dressing pressed to his temple. How bad was Dean's head injury? Fear tore at Sam's heart, what if Dean …he found it hard to even think the possibility.
"Dean, bro…" His breath shuddered out, "Man, you gotta get better…I don't wa…" Sam swallowed and dropped his gaze to the floor. "I can't do this without you."
XXxxxxxxx
Jeeze he had a headache to end all headaches, a throbbing, pounding, hammering headache and his mouth was dry and his eyelashes felt like they were glued together. Not that he wanted to open his eyes, no, he knew that would be a stupid idea.
His mind was clearer, he observed, the hazy confusion that had filled it earlier had dissolved but it still hurt too much to think properly but the thoughts kept passing through anyway some lingering into full 3D colour, some merely fleeting impressions of scenes and feelings. It was all fairly random but Dean didn't care as long as he didn't have to make any effort.
It was the effort thing that was causing him the most trouble. A nagging expectance that he ought to be somewhere or be doing something and that the onus was on him to get off his butt and go or do. Several times he'd brushed the fret aside hoping it would desist and leave him to the peaceful drifting that demanded nothing more than for him to lay where he was. Yeah drifting was the way to go.
Light played on his eyelids adding its insistence to the internal bugging. Dean groaned, s**t he was gonna have to wake up and open his eyes and accept the headache and all the other aches as his.
"Dean?"
The voice was too loud and Sammy's.
"You awake?"
Yeah definitely Sammy, no one else asked dumb questions like that.
"No." It came out as a croak rather than a word. Sharp pains criss-crossed his chest and he gasped at the hurt and for breath and then something cold, wet and slimy was pushed against his lips. He opened up like a baby and the ice slid into his parched mouth feeling wonderful as it lay on his tongue melting, trickling into his throat and soothing his growing urge to cough.
"You're in hospital."
'No s**t Sherlock.' Dean thought and then wished he hadn't as his head pulsed painfully almost popping his eyeballs.
"You gonna open your eyes."
'No' thought Dean again, 'Not if its gonna hurt that much just thinking about it.' He again fought the urge to cough and again the knives sliced his ribcage.
Breathing became somewhat of an issue.
Pain bathed his body centred on his chest, wrapping around his ribcage up his back and across his shoulders. Dean rasped in a breath but that only made the torment worse. His whole side was on fire. He panicked his lungs craving oxygen but his mind feared the pain that another breath would bring. He fisted the sheet twisting it in his fingers in an effort to control his respiration but eventually his need for air overcame his dread. Every reluctant shallow pant brought further agony.
"Sss'm."
He perceived rather than saw the flurry of activity around him but he was hurting too much to pay attention. Gasping, chest heaving, heart feeling like it was being squeezed out of existence Dean felt a grip on his arm.
"Dean hang on….I gotcha." It grounded him, zeroed him back into the hospital room. Sam was there he wasn't on the mountain there was no racoon but s**t his chest was a mass of ripped and tearing pain.
"H'rts S'm."
The grip tightened. "I know, Dean I know and they're gonna help you."
"GET him outta here." It was stiff clipped articulation full of urgent authority.
The grip left him. Dean aware enough to realise that this order was directed at Sam, gulped in air but his gasp of 'NO' turned into a cry of anguish as cold steel, sharp and unyielding pushed through his skin and in between his ribs. His body arched struggling to get away from the torment.
"Hold him still." Hissed the authority.
Firm hands took him by the shoulders, the arms, his hips and pressed him down into the mattress; restraining him. More pain exploded inside Dean's body the searing stinging torture continuing on and on and on.
XXxxxxxxx
Pushed roughly out of the immediate way Sam had backed up ready for a fight determined he was not going to be sidelined and forced into leaving his brother but after the initial barked instruction nobody paid him any attention. All the focus was on the stricken man in the bed.
Sam had been pleased and relieved when Dean had shown signs of waking but his eager delight had been short-lived. From a seemingly calm place his brother's body had tensed the ribcage going into spasm, breaths coming in short staccato pants.
Sam, clutching onto his brother's arm hit the call button and kept his thumb pressed down squeezing the handset hard unaware of the edges cutting into the flesh of his palm.
Dean couldn't breath properly and was in obvious pain, he called out and Sam tightened his hold unable to do to more than let his brother know he was there with him.
It must have only taken seconds for the hospital personnel to arrive but to Sam it was hours as he helplessly watched Dean writhe and gasp for air. What the hell was wrong? The elder hunter had been getting better Sam was sure of it; the colour had returned to his brother's features, Dean had answered a question and at one point Sam could have sworn that his semiconscious sibling was trying to open his eyes.
A harsh jangling cut into Sam's horrified stupor. A metal trolley laid with surgical instruments had been rushed into the room and the white-coated woman was reaching for a scalpel. The young hunter swallowed convulsively his fear tightening his throat and again he felt hot and faint. What were they doing?
The doctor with an urgent but confident stroke pierced the upper side-wall of Dean's chest with the curved blade. The glinting metal disappeared deep into the wound slicing an inch long cut. The scream that left Dean's throat had Sam up and moving forward heedless of the pain from his infected feet; his attention fixed on his brother.
"Hold him still." The instruction was barked irritably at the bodies around the bed.
Orderlies and nurses pinned the struggling hunter to the bed. Blood oozed from the incision dripping down Dean's side to be soaked up by the bedsheet in an ever-widening stain. Then two rubber gloved fingers were pressed roughly into the wound, scissoring open the cut as a tube was fed into the gap. A loud hiss filled the room and Sam saw Dean go limp and slump.
"DEAN!"
Sam full of alarm darted forward but was met by a hand pushing him in the chest.
"Mr. Seague the younger, I presume." The doctor a full head and shoulders smaller than Sam still managed to be intimidating. The medic bore down on Sam and suddenly the pain in his feet registered with a vengeance. Sam collapsed, knees giving way as the adrenaline left him but fortunately someone had wheeled the chair up behind him.
"What's wrong with him, what's wrong with Dean?" Sam breathed his concern, eyes never leaving the bed.
"Your brother has suffered a pneumothorax. In layman's terms a collapsed lung. Air has been leaking into the space between the wall of his chest cavity and his lung."
A vague notion of how serious a condition that was penetrated the numb inertia which enveloped Sam but the doctor continued before the hunter could get his brain in gear enough to ask a question.
"It probably happened when one of the broken ribs nicked the lung and it's been leaking air for a while, like a slow puncture. When he was brought in your brother was stable there was no need for intervention but in these cases a simple pneumothorax can develop quickly into a life threatening episode…as you saw." He paused allowing Sam to assimilate the information.
"He's …."
"He's fine for the moment and we are monitoring him closely. We've put in a shunt to relieve the pressure and hopefully his lung should re-inflate on its own. We're going to sedate him because any movement of the ribcage could aggravate the situation. Then he's going downstairs for an x-ray so that we can determine the extent of the damage and I tell you now that if he doesn't improve your brother may need surgery to repair the tear."
Surgery, shock drained the last dregs of energy from Sam as he continued to stare at the still form of his brother.
"Now Mr. Seague you must go back to your bed." The doctor turned to the orderly hovering nearby. "Wheel him back…"
The orderly took hold of the handles of the chair and was manoeuvring Sam backwards before he managed get his protest out.
"No…please no. I want to stay with Dean." The thought of leaving Dean alone was an anathema to Sam. He couldn't let his brother down it already felt as if he'd left a man behind and he wasn't going to do it again. He glanced at Dean and then back to the Doctor in silent adjuration.
She smiled at him, looking more kindly now but shook her head her chestnut curls softly bouncing and settling as her voice although charming held the patronising tone that was entirely unique to medical people when they talked to 'relatives'.
"Your brother is receiving the best care that we can give him. There is nothing you can do. You're burning a fever, in pain and you need rest and so does your brother. He doesn't know you're here or that anyone's here. Go back to your room and wait or I will be forced to call security."
Sam stared at her immobile and in those seconds the reservoir filled and the damn burst. All the vexation, all the pent-up anxiety, the fear and the anger came crashing through, pouring out of him in an unstoppable tirade.
"I DON'T NEED TO REST NOT WHEN…WHEN DEAN'S LIKE THIS AND YES THERE IS SOMETHING I CAN DO DOCTOR, I CAN BE HERE FOR HIM LIKE HE WOULD BE FOR ME." Red in the face and out of breath Sam gripped the side arms of the chair. "HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS I'M HERE… He's got to know…." Sam faltered his anger and body exhausted. Sobs wracked his frame tears wet his face and his body trembled with the frustration and distress.
"Mr Seague, its Sam isn't it?" She was crouching in front of him. "I'm sure your brother knows you're here but as I said I've sedated him and so he's pretty much out of it." She put a hand on his arm in a gesture of contrition. "You can stay until he goes down to x-ray and then I want you back in your bed and asleep…" She smiled, "Doctors orders."
Sam managed a half smile back and smeared the tears across his face with the back of his hand feeling all of six years old. Standing she issued her orders.
"Sam can stay here with his brother until Mr Seague senior goes downstairs and then I want you to escort him back to his own room." She left no doubt that there would be consequences if her instructions weren't carried out but Sam wasn't listening anymore he'd moved the wheelchair as close to the bed as he could, watching the slow rise and fall of his brother's chest.
XXxxxxxxxxx
Lying still his eyelashes tickling his cheeks, lips slightly parted and dry with breath Dean had been aware for a while but too tired and too weak to do more than flicker his eyelids open for a few seconds. It was enough though to see Sammy slumped, leaning on the bed, tousled head resting on his folded arms.
Dean felt like he'd been kicked by a mule, not that he knew what that felt like but he could imagine pretty well and he pitied the poor b*****d who'd coined the phrase if he was freaking hurting as bad as Dean was.
Sam shifted slightly and Dean felt his brother's head bump his thigh and settle with a light pressure on his leg. It was comforting, knowing that Sam was with him. Those last few hours on his own in the forest had been amongst the worst in his life and if he had his way they were never going near a f**king forest or even a tree, ever again.
A door opened somewhere off to his left and he heard soft squeaking footsteps approach. Cool fingers pressed lightly to his wrist rested a few moments and then lifted. She hadn't needed to take his pulse that way, Dean could feel the sticky pads of the sensors against his heart and in several other places he'd rather not think about but he couldn't blame her for wanting to touch a great piece of real-estate. He grinned inwardly; there were perks to being in hospital.
His brother moved again and he felt the weight lift from the bed.
"Hey."
'…hands off Sasquatch she's mine.' Dean thought,
"How's he doing?" Sam was asking stupid questions again but then Dean re-thought.
'Yeah….How am I doing? 'Cause it hurts like crazy over here.'
"Your brother's doing great considering what he's been through."
'You tell him sweetheart.'
She patted Dean's arm rubbing it gently and he was enjoying the contact. I mean Sammy was fine but a hot nurse, well she sounded hot and her touch was silky soft and he imagined …he pulled himself from his reverie she was saying something else.
"…surgery was successful. He just needs his meds now and plenty of rest. "
'Yeah give me some of those meds…wha…wait SURGERY? He'd had surgery?' His whole body gave a lurch of shock and he jerked up from the bed.
"Ss..a…"
He crashed, choked, throat burning, tried to draw in air but everything was too tight, it wasn't enough, his chest heaved and pain speared hot and sharp. He struggled with the unhealthy lethargy holding his muscles but it made things worse and he couldn't catch his breath and everything, everything was closing down.
XXxxxxxxx
"DEAN!"
Sam was on his feet; again. It was pure instinct. One minute his brother had been sleeping peacefully and then he was writhing making a horrible choking sound like he was ….he was dying.
"What is it? What's happening?"
Had his brother's lung collapsed again or was it something worse. He fisted the material of the comforter pulling it taught as he fought his own pain to remain standing. He had to help Dean but he had no idea what the hell was happening and the nurse wasn't moving she was standing stroking his brother's arm like everything was okay. Couldn't she see that Dean was….he wanted to scream at her, shake her.
"DO SOMETHING." Sam's brain couldn't grasp the implication of her inactivity.
"I am." She smiled sweetly at him and it did cross his mind with a clutch to his heart that she might be a demon. "I'm waiting and seeing." Continuing to stroke Dean's arm she quietly called his brother's name. "Dean. Dean. Just relax and you'll be fine."
Sam couldn't help thinking that this was some kind of new definition of fine. It looked to him as bad as before when every auxiliary, nurse and doctor had come running in to help but as the clock on the wall ticked and Sam waited in heightened anxiety finally… finally Dean seemed to be responding. The rasping breaths became calmer, deeper and his brother's body eased.
The nurse patted. "That's better. Now let's try that again without the panic button shall we?"
Dean's eyes fluttered open his pupils dark and unfocused and then closed again.
"Okay now slow even breaths. In…and out."
Sam watched his own breathing unconsciously taking on the same rhythm.
"That's right," she looked up at Sam, "He just took things too fast got himself in a bit of a tiz, didn't you kitten." She patted Dean's arm again.
Kitten? Sam raised an eyebrow and couldn't help a smirk as he saw Dean's pained expression at least his brother was conscious enough to object to the pet name.
"Yeah, he's not the first and he won't be the last. They try to take in too deep a breath, it irritates the membranes and sets off a chain-reaction, Panic, rapid breaths, more irritation more panic. Sometimes they pass out before it all calms down. I'll top up his meds and then you'll be more comfortable won't you kitten."
She disappeared out into the corridor the door swinging closed behind her.
"S'm." His name was whispered Dean's lips barely moving.
"Yeah?" Sam leaned forward. "You hurting bad?"
"Like you wouldn't believe."
"Sam?"
"Yeah?
"She's hot …right?"
It took a few moments for the meaning of Dean's question to come crashing in on Sam's concerned attention but when it did he wanted to hug and smack Dean all at the same time.
Rolling his eyes upwards Sam huffed and then after an agonising pause gave up being cross. "Yeah, Dean she's hot."
Dean sighed. "Thank God for that…it'll be worth the pain of opening my eyes."
This time Sam did smack Dean, lightly.