Asking the Stars Part 6
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural. This story is just for my amusement.
Summary: Wee!chesters (Sam is six, Dean is ten) The pressures of the hunting life affect Dean. The boys stay with a family friend and get a taste of normalcy.
Dean’s temperature had risen a degree every hour since Sammy had left for school, stubbornly refusing to respond to cool baths or Tylenol; at eleven o’clock, Marian coaxed the boy’s feet into their boots and helped him into his jacket.
He followed her obediently to the truck, stumbling a little, despite the lack of snow. She buckled him in and he fell asleep almost immediately, his head lolling to one side and his features relaxing.
He was harder to wake and staggered feverishly through the parking lot when they reached the doctor’s office, and Marian knew she had made the right decision to bring him in; Dean’s body needed to be well before he tackled any emotional problems.
Sitting in the waiting room with Dean leaning against her, shivering and half asleep, brought her back to the days of Jeremy’s childhood when she had been a new parent. Mesmerised by the perfect little person they had created, she and Waylon had taken their little boy to see the paediatrician often- more often than not for reassurance that the illness was normal and would pass on its own with rest and fluids and a little TLC.
She was more confident caring for a child now given her age and experience, and she’d always been good at listening to her intuition. She knew that John loved his boys and wanted what was best for them, but she also knew that he’d been afflicted with a bad case of tunnel vision since Mary’s death; revenge and killing evil were the primary thoughts in his head at any given time.
“Dean Winchester? Dr. Carter will see you now,” chirped the perky blonde receptionist after they’d been waiting less than fifteen minutes. That was the nice thing about small towns- it was easier to get in spur of the moment which was usually when calamities liked to occur.
Dr. Carter was a pleasant woman in her early fifties and the room was bright and more cheerful than the typical utilitarian doctor’s office.
Marian helped Dean sit down in the chair next to the desk before settling herself into the seat next to it.
“The nurse said he had a fever and abdominal pain?”
“That’s right. The upset stomach has been off and on for a couple of weeks, but he threw up this morning for the first time, and the fever started a few hours ago. His dad took him to a doctor about his stomach…”
Marian paused, looking at Dean who was completely asleep, his head listing to one side. She lowered her voice anyhow and leaned toward the doctor.
“The other doctor thought it was anxiety. He’s had a hard life- his mother died when he was very young, and he’s been responsible for his little brother a lot. His father’s is… in the military, and they move around frequently; he’s changed schools more times than I can count.”
Dr. Carter nodded understandingly, “How is his appetite?”
“He eats like a bird. Didn’t use to, but his father says he’s lost quite a bit of weight since all of this started… he won’t eat breakfast or lunch, picks at his dinner. I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten ill before this.”
“Any vomiting, diarrhea…?”
“Just when he threw up this morning, as far as I know, he’s quiet though, I doubt he would come and tell; Dean’s a tough kid who doesn’t complain much.”
The doctor noted and scribbled something down on her pad.
“Can you wake him?”
Marian put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and gently woke him up. He groaned a little, and blinked his eyes against the light, but allowed her to take of his jacket and help him onto the little cot by the desk.
Dr. Carter gave him a cursory examination, taking his temperature by ear and frowning at the number that appeared. She felt the glands around his neck, and palpated his abdomen.
“Thank you for being so cooperative, Dean. I know you aren’t feeling well, but do you think you could answer a few questions?”
Dean nodded, his face was pale and he looked miserable.
“Your tummy’s been hurting for a while now; does it feel the same or different today?”
Dean paused for a minute, and looked rather accusingly at Marian as if she had divulged a great secret.
“Same.”
“And this morning was the only time you threw up.”
He nodded.
“Any pain when you pick something heavy up? Or when you go to the bathroom?”
He shook his head.
“Do you wake up at night because of the pain?”
He paused for a moment, before shaking his head.
She made a few quick notes on her chart before turning back to the boy.
“Thanks for your help, Dean. I just wanted to make sure I have all the information, you can go back to sleep now, if you want.”
Dean’s eyes shut gratefully, and the doctor turned back to Marian.
“There’s a bug going around, the nursing home is under quarantine and a lot of school children are getting it too. Nasty stomach virus, but it usually passes in a few days; the main thing is to watch out for dehydration. If he can’t keep down any fluids and stops urinating you’ll need to take him to the ER for an IV. If the fever climbs any further or he seems to worsen, it’s time to go to the hospital.”
Marian nodded. She’d dealt with stomach bugs before, and was just relieved it wasn’t appendicitis or something more serious.
“The stomach aches he’s been having could be stress-related, but I’d like to run some more tests once he’s feeling a bit better to rule anything out. Should I book him an appointment for next week?”
Marian nodded again glad the woman wasn’t dismissing Dean’s pain as a nervous stomach or nothing to worry about. His problems had been ignored by too many people for too long- it was time to get to the root of the issue.
“Try and get him eating bland foods once the vomiting stops. Toast, rice, applesauce… the usual sick kid menu. Not eating has made his body weaker, and less able to fight off illnesses.”
The doctor handed her an appointment card and stood up to shake her hand. Marian thanked her and gently woke Dean and slipped his arms back into the sleeves of his coat.
…
Sammy burst in the door at quarter after three, kicking off his shoes and dropping his backpack onto the stairs.
“Hi, hon. How was school?” Marian asked, speaking quietly and pointing to the couch where Dean was asleep.
“Good, I got picked second for dodge ball at recess, and I got all ten words right on my spelling test,” he said in an exaggerated whisper.
“You’re a smart boy, Sammy, and kind too- that’s why the other kids want you on their team,” she told him.
He beamed at the praise, and she wondered how often John told him what a great kid he was.
“I thought it was because I’m good at dodging.”
“That too. How about a snack?”
Sam nodded and followed her into the kitchen, looking over his shoulder at his brother’s sleeping form.
“Is Dean okay?” he asked worriedly once he was settled at the table with a cookie and glass of milk.
“He’s got the stomach flu, but he’s going to be just fine in a couple of days,” Marian assured him. She was surprised at the usually upbeat child’s worry for his brother, and wondered if he was picking up on her and John’s own concerns about Dean.
“In North Dakota one of the kids in my class threw up at school. He had to sit next to the trash can until his mom came and got him.”
Marian feigned shock with a theatrical gasp at the story, and Sam giggled and took another bite of cookie, seeming satisfied that everything was okay.
…
John called that evening, and after talking to Sammy for a while asked to speak with Marian.
“The hunt isn’t taking as long as Hammond thought it would; we’ve just got to comb the lower ridge another time to make sure none of the young ones escaped, but I’ll probably be back in Kansas sooner than I thought.”
“The boys will be happy to hear that,” she said after a brief pause, knowing the boys would be happy to see their dad, but would also have to face another upheaval.
“How’s Dean? Sammy said he was sleeping.”
“Stomach flu- he’s been in the bathroom most of the day, poor guy. He’s exhausted.”
“I hope I wasn’t too hard on him the other night… I just don’t like to see them abusing their training like that. I can’t afford for him to draw attention to himself like that- a few fights leads to parent teacher meetings, and people asking too many questions… it could be trouble for us.”
“He was a little upset, but he’s over it now. I was wondering… I know you like to keep on the move, but I thought maybe you and the boys would like to stay for Christmas…?”
John didn’t answer right away, and Marian could picture him weighing the pros and cons of staying somewhere not because of a hunt. Sammy was thrilled about school, but it might just make it harder for him when they inevitably moved on. Dean was having a hard time, but he didn’t know that giving in to the boy’s sensitivities was the solution.
“I’ll think about it.”
…
“Hon, do you want to try and eat something?” Marian asked, coming into the sitting room to check on Dean.
He’d slept through his father’s call and dinner, and now Sammy was in bed.
He shrugged, but followed her into the kitchen where she put some slices of bread into the toaster and put the kettle on.
“Your father called while you were sleeping, he might be back sooner than he had expected.”
Dean sat up a little straighter in his chair, leaning towards the older woman, trying to read her face to exact whatever details she wasn’t sharing.
“Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. He’s sorry you aren’t feeling well.”
He looked at the table breaking their brief moment of eye contact.
His dad must think he’s acting like a baby.
He was supposed to be the big brother, but lately he felt so small.
The kettle whistled shrilly at the exact moment the toast popped up and he jumped, startled out of his reverie.
“The doctor wants to see you again next week, about your stomach.”
Dean took a small drink of tea but said nothing, looking disinterestedly at the piece of toast she placed in front of him.
“Maybe tomorrow you can start on the work Mr. Lambert gave you- if you’re feeling a bit better.”
Dean shrugged, the book he was supposed to read was really thick, and the print was so tiny it would take him forever to finish it. He was too stupid to understand the math- Sammy was the brainy one, not him.
“I could help you out, if you want…” Marian offered.
“Maybe.”
“If you want someone else to help you, there’s a boy in high school that does tutoring- he lives right down the street.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said in a final sort of way that said the conversation was over.
…
Marian padded up the stairs in her nightgown holding her favourite mug full of herbal tea; she paused at the top, hearing giggling down the hall. Poking her head into Sammy’s room, the bed was empty, the blankets mussed where the little boy had clearly ‘untucked’ himself.
Checking on Dean, she wasn’t surprised to see two little bodies under the quilt, shaking with mirth as they shared a private joke.
She opened her mouth to tell Sammy that Dean needed his rest, and then thought better of it; the boys were happy, and sometimes laughter was the best medicine.
TBC
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