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Chapter 15

Dean continued to show progress in his exercises and treatment. The migraines had eased up in recent days, making him feel a bit more energetic. The absence of daytime accidents gave him more confidence. Nights were harder, especially with the psychiatrist's medication that made him sleep more heavily. It was awful and embarrassing to wake up wet on some nights. He still felt depressed about his limitations and the constant presence of people watching, poking, and analyzing everything he did. But John and Sam remained very patient through it all.

Sam had no idea about the accidents since he was no longer allowed to sleep at the hospital. Dean had grown more accustomed to John and Caroll helping him with this issue. It was still mortifying. But at least during the day he managed well, as long as he kept regular bathroom visits. Even this had improved; he was spending less time on the IV, and with less fluid entering his body, he could stretch the intervals between bathroom trips to three, sometimes even four hours.

He still felt very dependent on everyone, especially since he couldn't walk on his own yet. After a few steps, his legs would give out, and he needed assistance. He had also started speaking again, not much, just a few sentences, but it was communication, and John and Sam were happy with that. John began bringing up "the hunt" with Dean. It was something Dean liked to hear about. It gave him glimpses of his old life and cheered him up. As John sought his suggestions, Dean started participating in discussions with John and Caleb, which boosted his confidence.

John and Caleb knew they needed to act. The deaths were occurring in a specific pattern—every 30 days. Another one would happen soon, and they were running out of time.

—Dean, Caleb and I are going out tomorrow after lunch, once your physiotherapy session is over, okay? Everything's already planned. Pastor Jim will pick up Sam from school and they'll come stay with you.

—Okay, Dad. I know it's all planned. You've told me this five times already. Don't worry.

—You won't be alone for too long, so it won't be a problem.

—You've said that too. I know, okay? I'll be fine.

—And your headache?

—A bit worse than the other days. But it's not that bad, I promise.—That wasn't entirely true. The headache was intense, and he felt nauseous, but he knew the hunt couldn't wait. Other people might die.

The next morning, as soon as John woke up and went to check on Dean, he saw that his son's eyes were tightly shut.

Dean had been awake for hours. His head was throbbing, and the nausea had worsened throughout the night. He didn't want to say anything. He didn't want to disrupt John's hunt.

—Dean? Is it your head? How bad is it?

—Hmm,—Dean couldn't respond as planned. The intense pain left him breathless.—It's... hmm, bothering a bit. But I'll be fine.

John stared, trying to decide what to do. He didn't want to leave Dean alone but couldn't postpone the hunt. He decided to talk to the nurse, who administered a stronger medication to Dean.

—Why does he need the IV? He hasn't used it for days,—John asked, confused.

—This medication is stronger. It can only be given this way. Dean will feel better soon. There's no need to worry.

Indeed, a few hours later, Dean seemed more alert. He still looked nauseous but was more responsive. John stuck to the previous day's plan. He took Dean to the bathroom before leaving with Caleb, to prevent any incidents.

—I'll be back soon, okay? It will only take a few hours.

Dean tried to smile to reassure John.

As soon as John left, Dean allowed himself to close his eyes. The headache had eased a bit, but the nausea persisted. He felt exhausted from the restless night. He tried to sleep to forget the nausea. Fatigue overtook him quickly.

Two and a half hours later, he woke up feeling uncomfortable. Before he even opened his eyes, a wave of nausea hit him hard. He sat up, trying to grab the vomit container next to the bed, just in case. But the movement made him aware of another discomfort—his bladder was intensely full. He tried to understand what had happened. It hadn't been that long since he last went to the bathroom. This didn't make sense. Then he remembered the IV still running.

Pastor Jim and Sam hadn't arrived yet. He couldn't wait. His bladder was screaming to be emptied. He knew he had to act fast. His heart started racing as he realized he didn't know what to do and had no time to think. The nausea worsened with the nervousness. Okay, I need the bathroom. I can't wait.

He got out of bed and held onto the IV stand. It wasn't stable or safe. He leaned on the bed and started taking steps toward the bathroom. It wasn't a long walk, but he hadn't managed it without John's help yet. But today, he had no choice. The full bladder made him tremble and sweat. He tried to focus on each step, keeping his legs tightly closed. He tried with all his will to make his body hold out until he reached the bathroom. His heart beat so fast he felt it vibrate inside him. God, please. Let me make it in time.

After passing the side of the bed, the worst part came—the part of the room with no support. He tried placing one foot in front of the other, leaning on the IV stand. His legs shook. Each step sent waves to his bladder, and it responded, making the urgency clear. Maybe it was the nervousness, but the nausea hit him hard, and he put a hand over his mouth to hold back the vomit.

Halfway between the bed and the bathroom door, his legs gave out. He tried to lean on the IV stand, but it only made things worse, and he ended up toppling over it and falling hard to the floor. He felt sharp pain in his arm as the needle got yanked out, tearing the skin. As soon as he fell, he had no strength left. His whole body shook, and everything he was trying to hold in came out uncontrollably.

He didn't know how long he lay there. Time seemed to stop. He kept trembling, trying to assess the situation and think about what to do. But the despair hit him fully. His legs and pajama pants were soaked. Blood trickled from the torn needle site on his arm. Vomit was all around him and on his shirt. He needed help. There was no one here. He tried getting up but only fell again. His heart pounded so hard it made his chest hurt. He could hardly breathe. Panic and helplessness overwhelmed him. He hadn't even realized he was crying.

—Sam, don't run. Wait for me,—Pastor Jim called out to Sam, who seemed not to hear. He always got excited when it was time to see Dean. Especially now that Dean was doing better, talking to him and helping with some tasks.

Sam burst into the room, only to be shocked by what he saw.

—DEAN!

Pastor Jim heard the panic in Sam's voice and hurried to see what had happened.

—Dean, oh my God...!

Sam shouldn't be here! Not now! This can't be happening!

—Go away. Get out of here.

—Dean... calm down,—Sam responded, shocked by what he was seeing and the way Dean spoke to him. His brother was on the floor, and everything was a mess. Again.—Someone help my brother!—Sam began shouting, not knowing what else to do.

—Sam, it's okay. We'll help your brother,—Pastor Jim said in his usual calm voice, approaching Dean.—Dean, stay calm. It's okay. We're here to help you. Breathe.

Pastor Jim put a hand on Dean, who recoiled even further, trying to shrink away from Jim's touch.

—NO! Get away. Now! I DON'T NEED HELP! GO! I WANT TO BE ALONE!

—Son, it's okay, alright? We're going to get you up. You just need to breathe. I'll take care of everything.

Sam huddled in a corner of the room, covering his ears with his hands. He didn't want to hear or see any of this. Dean was screaming, crying, and completely terrified.

Jim tried to touch Dean again, but every attempt only made Dean scream louder and withdraw further from any possibility of touch or comfort.

Caroll heard the commotion from Dean and Sam and rushed towards the room.

—Oh Dean! What happened to you, sweetheart?—she said, kneeling near him. As she moved closer, Dean curled up to get away from her. She raised her hands.—It's okay! I won't touch you. No one will touch you, okay? I just need you to calm down and breathe so I can help you. Remember? I'm here to help you. It's all right. You're going to be fine.

—NO! GO AWAY!

The hunt had been straightforward. He and Caleb were very prepared this time. It was practically "salt and burn." Caleb probably could have handled it alone, but after the last time when he got hurt, no one wanted to take any chances.

And he had to admit how good it felt! It had been months since his last hunt. Honestly, during much of that time, he hadn't even thought about it. His family occupied all his thoughts and concerns. But in recent weeks, he had started to miss that adrenaline rush. Being back on the road again. As his worries about Dean lessened, the hunter mode began to resurface within him.

It still wasn't possible to return to his old life, but maybe a few hunts like this were doable. Soon after, he was back in town. Initially, he considered going to the motel, taking a shower, and maybe resting a bit. Dean was fine. Pastor Jim was with him and Sam.

But, despite trying to convince himself of this, he couldn't stop himself from heading straight to the hospital. He was still a bit worried about Dean's headache from earlier. Maybe Dean needed him. It had been harder to stay away from the boys after everything that happened. Besides, he knew Dean wanted to hear about the hunt's outcome.

As soon as he turned the corner to Dean's room, the screams hit him.

Screams from Dean. It was hard to recognize. It was his son's voice, but the manner was... so unlike Dean. It sounded like a much younger Dean, in panic. Then he heard Sam's screams mixed with Dean's and rushed towards them.

—What happened…?