Chapter Text
Taking Some Time
Dean shifted in the drivers seat, wincing.
“Hey, are you all right?”
No, he wasn’t all right. His back was friggen killing him, involuntarily tensing and untensing and tensing again, sending aches down his legs and out to his ribs. The vamp had popped his left shoulder out again and it’d made a sickening crunch when he’d popped it back in himself before heading downstairs to Sam. Usually the pain let up just a little once it had been reset, but this time it was worse, and possibly something that wouldn’t just get better on it’s own. He hadn’t slept in 72 hours because of the nightmares and insomnia, and this level of exhaustion was anything but healthy. His left arm dangled at his side while he steered with one hand. His head pounded and his throat friggen burned, and he was desperate for another swig of whiskey to numb… anything. Yeah, he was not all right.
“’M fine…” he cleared his throat and rubbed his eye with his left hand, causing another jolt of pain and stars across his vision.
“No, dude. Pull over, let me drive.”
“How’s your arm?”
“It’s fine, Dean. Pull over.”
He obeyed, pulling off onto the shoulder. Dean tried to look annoyed as he swung his door open, but getting up was more painful than he thought and he wasn't up for long, desperately clinging to the side of the car as his legs buckled with pain and exhaustion.
"Dean!"
"Ah..." He groaned as Sam grabbed his left arm and crunched his shoulder up and down as he fought to keep him standing.
"Where are you hurt?"
"Get me in the friggen car," he groaned.
"Back seat?"
Dean nodded with tight lips. God, he wouldn't make it round to the passenger side.
Dean made a chorus of more grunts and groans as his brother tried to gently manhandle him into the car.
"What is it, Dean? How bad?"
"Shoulder... Back..." He gritted his teeth.
"Is it out?"
"Shoulder? Nah, I put it back in."
Sam huffed, "You put it... You put it back in," he shook his head in disbelief, "What about your back?"
"Just hurts."
"Did you get hit?"
"No, it just aches sometimes."
Sometimes like all the time.
"Aches? Dean, you can't even stand!"
"It aches bad," he said, defiantly.
"Jesus, Dean."
"There are pills in my jacket."
Sam narrowed his eyes but grabbed Dean's jacket from the front seat, hearing the pill bottle rattle.
"There's no label. What are they?"
"Awesome, is what they are," Dean reached for them with his right, cradling his left to his chest.
Sam stared at Dean as he struggled to swallow the tablets without moving from flat on his back.
"Isn't you shoulder usually better once it's set?"
Dean clenched his eyes shut, "Usually..."
“Maybe you didn’t do it properly…”
“I did it properly,” he snapped.
"You wanna go to a hospital?"
"No friggen way. Just drive to the motel."
"I can't when your legs are hanging out of the car."
"Okay," Dean said but didn't move, "Give me a minute."
Sam sighed out loud and slumped into the drivers seat. The car bounced under his sudden weight and Dean groaned.
"How long were you going to drive for? Until you passed out at the wheel?"
"Thought I'd make it," he croaked, coughing as gently as he could.
"Why didn't you tell me you had something wrong with your back?"
"It's been like this since I was 23, dude."
"Like this?" Sam looked over his shoulder.
"There's good days and bad days, Sam. The bad days are just more often now."
Sam shook his head, huffing his little angry laugh.
"We could have been doing something about it if you had of told me..."
Dean held his eyes closed. He was so exhausted he could feel a weight pressing down on him, so heavy, so sure.
…
"Dean? Come on, man."
"What?" Dean opened his eyes and tried to fix them on his brother.
"Gee, those pills are awesome. Wanna come inside or you gonna stay out here all night?"
Staying exactly where he was sounded like the best thing ever, but once the pills wore off he'd be worse than when he started.
"Okay," he rasped, realising how sore his throat was. God, this day sucked.
Sam tugged him across the leather seat and placed his feet on the ground. Dean still cradled his left arm protectively.
"Can you sit up or do you need help?"
Dean pressed his eyes closed for a second, thinking.
"Gonna need your help."
When Dean opened his eyes Sam looked a mix between shocked and worried.
Sam grabbed his right arm and slipped his other behind his shoulders.
"Ready? One, two, three..."
"Ah! Wait, stop. Stop."
Sam gently lowered Dean back down.
Dean could feel the sweat prickle on his face and he felt like he was going to throw up. The pain was so intense he couldn't tell where it was coming from. It was all over now. His skin, his hair, his bones.
"Oh god, Dean,” Sam sighed, “Deep breaths, breathe through it."
"Sam..." He sighed, hand finding his t-shirt and gripping tight.
"I'm here, Dean. Just take it easy."
Sam waited with Dean until the feeling returned to his feet and hands and he tried standing up again.
"One, two, three!"
Dean gritted his teeth as every part of his body protested the movement. His steps were stiff. His back didn’t like his legs to move and the burning sting travelled all the way down the back of his legs to his ankles.
“You alright?” Sam asked.
Dean could have laughed at how stupid the question was but he didn’t. He had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
“Just don’t stop,” Dean said, through gritted teeth.
Dean managed to make it into the room before he collapsed again.
"Dean, whoa. Almost there, man. Come on."
Dean struggled to regain his footing and scrambled to the bed, flopping onto his back.
"God, Sam..."
"I know. I know it's bad, Dean. Just try to breathe."
"You might need to go back out... I'm gonna need somethin’ else."
"I already stopped off at a pharmacy on the way. You were out cold. Just stay where you are. I'll get the stuff from the car," Sam said, placing a pillow under his left shoulder and another under his knees.
"Yeah, not going anywhere," Dean grunted.
Dean closed his eyes and swallowed back the bile. The pain in his back and legs had eased now he was horizontal, but it was still up there on the Winchester pain scale. His shoulder pulsed with its own heartbeat. His eyes felt swollen he was so tired. He didn't know how much longer he could stay conscious.
Dean heard Sam re-enter the room, shopping bags rustling. He heard boxes being opened and Sam padding across the carpet to the right side of his bed.
"What you got?" Dean asked, peeking through one eye.
Sam was squatting down in between the beds plugging something in. It was a thick rectangular cloth mat.
"Electric heat pad. Lower back, right?"
Dean huffed, "Kinda the whole thing, but yeah, lower is worse."
Sam carefully slid the mat under Dean's back as he tried to shuffle around to help him. He was pretty useless right now.
"Dean, one more thing."
Sam was standing with a black strappy thing in his hands.
"Wassat?" Dean mumbled.
"It's a sling. Don't fight me on this."
Dean looked up at the ceiling. He had no energy for fighting.
Sam took that as his cue and began gently fitting the sling to his brothers left arm. It required some movement of his arm to get it on and that hurt like a bitch. Once it was in place and his arm was secured nicely to his chest, pillow back under his shoulder, Sam cracked some instant cold packs and placed them on his shoulder. Dean hummed as the heat pad started to warm up and the cold began to numb his shoulder. He brought his right hand up and coughed into his fist, his throat scratchy and sore.
"You okay?"
He could feel Sam hovering.
Dean nodded slightly, eyes still closed. He could use some water though. His throat was killing him.
"Here."
He peeled his eyes open and Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding out a glass. Kid was damn perceptive.
Sam must have seen he wasn't going to be much good on his own, because he brought the glass to his lips and lifted his head for him. A small amount trickled the wrong way causing Dean to jolt with coughs, but by now the pain had got too much and everything was pretty much numb.
"You've been coughing a lot," Sam said, placing the glass on the nightstand.
"I just choked," Dean cleared his throat.
Sam sighed, "No, before that. You've been doing it all day. Are you sick?"
Dean relaxed his face and closed his eyes, "Yeah, maybe," no point in hiding how shitty he felt now.
"When was the last time you slept?"
Aw, crap, Dean mentally cursed.
"Cause I went to bed at 1 and you were still up... I got up to pee at 3 and you were watching cartoon porn... Then I was up at 6 to go for a run and you were in the shower. Did you sleep at all?"
"Sam..."
"No, Dean. We're going to have this discussion."
"Guess I didn't sleep last night."
"And the night before?"
Dean opened his eyes to look at Sam. They were foggy. He knew he was looking through tear filled eyes. Tired tears, drugged up tears, pain tears... tears.
"I can't sleep, Sam."
"How long has it been?"
"I guess 3 days or something... S'not like I haven't tried," his voice quivered and he was friggen angry for being so weak.
"Okay... Okay, we'll worry about that later. I got you some pills, but I don't know what you can take with the ones you just had."
“They’re oxycodone.”
“Oh, uh, well, maybe we should wait to give you anything else.”
“Awesome.”
“Dean…”
“’M kinda spinning here,” Dean moaned, closing his eyes.
“Sorry, I just… you had those pills in your jacket pocket.”
Dean moaned a noncommittal noise.
“How often do you take them?”
“Mm… I started with codeine, then it wasn’t enough… morphine was too strong. Still needed to work.”
“Dammit, Dean… I can’t believe I didn’t know about this. I mean, I know about the nightmares, and the drinking, and I kind of assumed you weren’t getting much sleep but 3 days without any? And this back problem, Dean… I think it could be something really bad…” Sam looked down at Dean. His lips were slightly parted and the lines in his face smoothed. Sam softened, “Get some sleep, big brother.”
…
"SAM!"
"Shh, Dean, it's okay."
"SAM!"
"God, Dean..."
Dean was burning up. He was sweating and thrashing on his bed, which couldn't be good for his back or his shoulder. What was worse was that he was yelling pretty extremely loud and it wouldn't be long before...
Thumpthumpthump
Crap.
Sam opened the door but left the chain latched.
"Man, it's 4 in the morning," it was the motel manager.
"I know," Sam sighed, "My brother's sick..."
"I've had 5 complaints in half an hour. I'm sorry, son, but I can't let you stay."
"Please, I can't move him like this..."
"Kid, I'm trying to run a business. I'm sorry about your brother. You've got an hour and I want you out."
Sam nodded, rubbing a hand across his face.
"Alright," he sighed, shutting the door.
How the hell was he supposed to get Dean to the car like this? Where were they supposed to go?
He couldn’t talk his options through with Dean like he usually always did. Dean was stuck in a hellish nightmare, screaming for his brother. He couldn’t figure it out alone. And there was only one other person he could trust. He pulled out his phone and called Bobby.
"If you're callin' at this hour it can't be somethin' good. What's goin' on, Sam?"
"Bobby... I need somewhere to go in Raleigh, North Carolina. We got an hour to get out of the motel so it's gotta be something quick."
"Whoa, slow down, son. Why the heck you gotta leave the motel? Where's Dean?"
"Dean's sick, Bobby. He's sick and he's hurt pretty bad... He's having nightmares. Too many people have complained. We gotta go but I can't take him anywhere too far like this and no motel is gonna be taking people at this hour."
"Okay, alright. Take a breath. We're gonna find you a place and then you're gonna tell me about Dean."
Sam sighed and nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, okay."
"You said you're in Raleigh?"
"Yeah."
"Listen, I worked a case out in Greenville a few years back. Poltergeist. She was awful grateful. Said I should let her know if there's anyway she could repay me..."
"This is a pretty big favour to cash in, Bobby."
"Well, it's all I got. So, start packin’ your stuff. I'll call you back."
"Thanks, Bobby."
Sam stared at his phone long after the call had ended. He didn’t even know if he could wake Dean like this. He hadn’t been able to so far. He ignored the worry that slithered up the back of his throat and set to packing up their stuff to get on the road as soon as Bobby called back.
"We goin’ somewhere?"
"Dean!" Sam startled, "Jesus..."
Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, sweaty and hunched, looking feeble.
"What's goin' on?"
"We gotta go, man. You were having a nightmare... Manager's kicking us out."
"Son of a bitch..." Dean groaned.
"How you doing?"
"Peachy."
"Well, you're sitting up on your own so it's an improvement from a few hours ago," Sam said, sitting next to his brother.
"A few hours, is that all I slept?" Dean asked, rubbing his face.
Sam nodded, "You've been tossing around and calling out the whole time too..."
"Look, Sam..." Dean rubbed a hand up and down his thigh, breath shortening as he prepared for what he was about to say, "I know I'm not good at this whole asking for help thing..." He cleared his throat and looked down.
"Hey," Sam said, "I know. We'll figure this out. We always do."
"Thanks, Sammy," Dean looked up at him with dewy eyes, before launching into a coughing fit, "Uh, God..."
Sam placed the back of his fingers on Dean's forehead, "You're still really warm, man."
"Yeah, figures."
"I'm waiting on a call from Bobby. He's gonna try and find us somewhere to stay for a while."
"What do you mean?"
"Dean... You can't keep going like this. You're gonna kill yourself."
"Well, I'm not quitting," he raised his voice, sat up straighter and winced as it hurt his knotted back.
"No one's saying that. We just need to take some time to figure this out... Get you right."
Dean nodded, closing his eyes against another jolt of pain that drained him of all colour.
"You should lie back down..."
"Nah, I'll never get back up," Dean laughed, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
"You wanna let me look at your shoulder?"
"Not particularly," he grunted.
"You could have done some serious damage."
"Oh, I don't doubt that."
"Then let me see..."
"Sam, I'm about to hurl. You poking around at my shoulder is the last thing I need."
“Sorry. One thing at a time,” Sam said just as his phone began to ring.
“Bobby.”
“I got something for ya.”
“What is it?”
“I called up Karen, the woman from the poltergeist case, bad news is she moved…”
Sam bowed his head.
“Good news is, she hasn’t found anyone to rent the house yet. It’s vacant. And if you boys wanted something a little more long term, she’s offering it to you at half the rent.”
“What are you thinking, Bobby?”
“Well, you said Dean’s hurt, right? And sick. And you know he hasn’t been right since getting out of the pit… the things he’s been through. Maybe you boys need a break.”
Sam looked at Dean. Dean was looking at him. His eyes were so tired, so old, reflecting the 40 years he’d spent in damnation. He looked small, arm in the big, bulky sling, lines on his face showing the pain he was trying to hide, a drip of sweat sliding down his temple, and this look of… desperation.
“What’s the address?”