SPN: Stung
What can I say? *sighs in exasperation* I enjoy whumping on Sam. And people enjoy a hurt-Sam. Yes, all symptoms are actual, and yes, this is based on real events. Enjoy.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Potty-mouthed Dean. And I think Sam in here somewhere. Tons of sweet fluff. Fair warning if you're diabetic.
Timeline...I dunno. My mind sees it around Season 4, but that may just be me.
"Man, come on Sammy." Dean ran fingers through the chocolate locks, heart fluttering almost as much as his brother's. "I don't really want to drag you to the ER, but you're starting to scare me here dude." No response, other than the steady breaths feathering against Dean's wrist.
Really, it was just the icing on the cake, at this point. If it could go wrong, it had on this hunt. 'Simple salt my ass,' Dean had thought as the rain drenched them both, not fazing the ghost that watched silently. That was about the only good spot, the woman not being a screaming, hysterical or angry spirit, so no bruises, cuts or scrapes.
He had actually thought they may make it out of a hunt unscathed for a change.
Sam had brushed past some flowering bush, and apparently, pissed off some insect. The yelp had been brief, more startled than the actual pain, and by the time Dean had turned, Sam was already crushing the bee under his heel. At Dean's raised brow, Sam had shook the water out of his hair, snorting. "Bastard stung me."
"You okay?"
"Yeah." They had both been stung when they were younger, what kids hadn't? Dean brushed it off, eager to get dry and warm again, and really, it wasn't like it was a dire emergency. Just a sting.
His ears had caught a lack of following footsteps about another twenty steps, and he glanced over his shoulder, a little annoyed with Sam's ADD today. All day he'd been expressing interest in the architecture, of all things, and the elder half expected to find his brother peering at the wall. Again.
His little brother was by the wall, but he had a hand on the grey stone, eyes closed and skin ashen, breath fast and hard. "Sam?" When his brother didn't respond, Dean wasted no time in making his way back, concern lighting up along his nerves as the absence of distance revealed the shivers making their way along the tall frame. "Sam? What's up? You okay?"
"Yeah."
When there weren't any more words coming forth, Dean raised a brow and casually slid a hand along Sam's neck, frowning at the lack of any fever. "You gotta be a little more convincing than that man. You're white as a ghost, and trust me, by now, we know that look."
Sam shook his head, water flying for a moment before he opened his eyes, pushing away from the wall. "Just got a little dizzy. No big deal. Let's get outta here." He rolled his shoulders, trying to push away the abrupt sense of panic that had fallen over him without letting Dean see.
"That's a plan I can get on board with. We'll get back to the motel, dry off, and see about some food. I keep trying to tell you, a man's gotta have red meat. That salad crap ain't enough to feed all that bulk."
They were turning the corner by the front steps when Dean's internal alarms went nuts, the specific tone one that he had dubbed 'Big Brother Alarm' when he was younger. There was no reason for it, but he still glanced back at Sam, slowing a bit to wait for him. For having such long legs, the kid was taking forever today. Dean narrowed his eyes, watching more closely, and concern thrummed along his nerves as he watched Sam close the distance between them. "Man, you look like hell. You sure you're okay?"
Sam raised hazel eyes to meet green, pupils a little larger than normal, and Dean's heart flew from his chest to his throat as his baby brother shook his head absently, swaying for a moment before his eyes rolled right up and he crumpled neatly on the sodden grass. "Sam!" He dropped to his knees beside his brother, cradling his neck in one shaky hand as he shook Sam's shoulder. "Man, come on. What the hell?" Sam groaned, but there was no indication of a return to the land of the living any time soon. "Shit."
Dean thrust his hand through his hair, glancing around for a moment before settling on a course of action. The Impala was home, was his first choice, his knee-jerk choice, to anything that went wrong. But the Impala was a distance away yet, and the front door was just a few steps away…though, those steps were literal. "Come on Sammy. Up we go." He slung Sam's arm around his shoulders, wrapping his own arm tightly around his brother's waist before hauling him up against him. "Damn man…maybe it's a good thing you only eat salad. Jeez. Come on. You're okay, we're just gonna getcha inside for now. You wanna wake up, now would be a great time. These steps are gonna be a bitch otherwise."
Sam decided staying unconscious was a better option. He couldn't bitch about the bruises later then, Dean decreed.
He got Sam deposited on the couch, concern higher than ever when the younger Winchester didn't respond at all. "Damnit man. What's up with the sudden nap?" He stripped off Sam's wet jacket, tossing it on the coffee table, followed quickly by the button up under that. When he saw the red angry welt on Sam's arm, the swelling taking up the forearm, he whistled low under his breath. "Jesus." And like a light going on, like someone was standing beside him and whispering, the words 'anaphylactic shock' tore through his brain. "No no no… you're okay Sammy. You're okay." He scrambled up beside his brother, listening intently to his steady breathing, but there was no gasping, no wheezing, no coughing. "That's what anaphylactic shock is, right Sammy? Your throat closes up. You're okay. Come on now. Man, come on Sammy." Dean ran fingers through the chocolate locks, heart fluttering almost as much as his brother's. "I don't really want to drag you to the ER, but you're starting to scare me here dude." No response, other than the steady breaths feathering against Dean's wrist.
The old mansion was a thing of beauty; even Sam, who didn't know much about architecture, could see that the dying building was unique. He couldn't resist the urges to take a closer peek when he could, but he could tell that Dean was getting annoyed, so he refrained as best he could.
Really though, the rain was getting to them both. Thankfully, they'd done the research already, and the ghost wasn't fighting them, had actually thanked them as they dropped the match on the pile of bones. Filling the dirt over the newly reunited mother and child had been hampered by the downpour, but the reward of being dry and warm was tempting enough to have both brothers hurrying.
Damned bee came outta nowhere. How it got under his jacket sleeve was a mystery to him, but he had yanked it off his skin and threw it to the ground before he could even register the pain, stomping it with a grim sense of triumph.
Dean had a brow raised, the look so clearly 'seriously?' that Sam felt the need to elaborate. "Bastard stung me."
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Well, not really, but the faint sense of panic that was rising in him wasn't what Dean was asking about. He shook his head, and started to follow, the anxiety swelling, and when the wave of dizziness slammed into him, bringing the greasy coil of nausea to his stomach, he stumbled, shoulder slamming into the stone wall of the house. He gripped the course texture, trying desperately and discreetly to reground himself with that grip on reality, trying to see past the grey tunnel vision that had stars sparking in his vision.
He felt the grip on his shoulder the same time Dean's voice rushed over him, concern bright, even if he couldn't hear the actual words over the rushing in his ears. He knew what his brother was asking, and hoped that it was "You okay?" and not "What's wrong?"
"Yeah."
He felt the warm calloused hand of his brother slide up, cupping his neck the same time his gag reflex started working, and he swallowed convulsively, straining to hear past the roaring that was competing with the grey in his vision. Just as quickly, they both faded out, leaving just the dizziness behind. "You gotta be a little more convincing than that man. You're white as a ghost, and trust me, by now, we know that look."
He tested himself, wanting just as badly as Dean to get the hell outta there, but when standing didn't change anything, he nodded. "Just got a little dizzy. No big deal. Let's get outta here."
Apparently, Lady Luck had a standing vendetta against the Winchesters. Or maybe it was just him. The Impala was in sight; granted, a distance off yet, but a tempting lure, when the metallic taste in his mouth kicked off the nausea again, and like falling off a boat, the swarm of panic swelled over him, covering his vision with grey, setting the ground tilting wildly. He could make out the blurry outline of Dean, could hear him ask if Sam was okay, and he could only shake his head as the darkness swelled and dragged him under.
"Man, come on Sammy." The voice trickled through the darkness, and Sam cocked his head. It took a few moments, but the voice matched up with a memory, the face rising out of the dark to reveal his brother. Dean. He knew he should answer; Dean didn't plead like that often, but he was so comfortable. It was easy to just float a bit… "I don't really want to drag you to the ER, but you're starting to scare me here dude."
ER? Why would Dean need the hospital? A faint memory rose, a woman thanking them, highlighted by fire. He didn't get hurt…maybe his brother did. It'd be like the jerk to not tell him. But Dean had said that it was Sam scaring him…he sighed into the quiet, deciding to leave it for a bit. Just a little longer.
A fiery grating pain across his sternum lit him awake, whine of pain getting caught and tangled with the gasp of breath, and he coughed hard, curling as he tried to protect his chest that now hurt in more than one way. As the coughing lit up drums in his skull, his arm decided to join in the festivities, lighting up in pain like someone set a hot match on his skin. He groaned, realized distantly he could hear Dean's voice in a constant litany, but as the coughing subsided, his stomach rose, and he clenched his fist, fighting to keep from vomiting.
"Shhh. Here Sammy." He opened his eyes, gagging as the room spun around the trashcan against the sofa, and his stomach took the chance, leaving him retching as he shook. Dean's hand was warm against the back of his neck, squeezing and stroking reassuringly, and he unconsciously leaned towards the promise of safety.
Days later, though his watch would say minutes, his stomach settled back down unhappily, and he slumped. "Good boy." Dean pushed him prone again on the couch, and he took the moment to close his eyes, focusing on reminding his stomach that staying put was a good idea. "Open up." He cracked open his eyes, meeting a worried green, and started to ask why. As soon as his lips had separated, Dean slipped something small, square and granular past them. As soon as the square hit his tongue, sweet blossomed, and he moaned, sucking it lightly. "Yeah, figured you'd like that. Going shocky on me there buddy." The sugar dissolved, and Dean handed him another little square before tugging his painful arm towards the elder. "Let me see kiddo."
"Hurts."
"Yeah, I know. Feelin better now that you heaved ho?" Sam nodded tiredly, too exhausted to try to front. The sweetness of the sugar was clearing out his head, washing away the acid bile and metallic taste in his mouth. He watched with half-interest as Dean slathered a thick white paste on the spot the bee had landed, covering the red welt with the grainy paste. "Baking soda. Folk cure, I guess, but it's gotta be better than nothing, right?"
"'s cold."
"Yup. Got plenty of water…guess this old place runs on a well. Water's cold as hell, and sweet too." Dean patted his knee, and Sam realized how better he felt. Just as quickly as the whole thing has swarmed down on him, it was fading away, and he slid his legs over the edge, sitting up. "Easy there."
"'m good."
Dean sat beside him, snorting wryly. "Heard that outside, just before you face-planted." He let the quiet expand for a moment before reaching up and grabbing his brother's neck, tugging Sam down into his lap. Sam struggled for a moment, but the hoarse emotion still roughening his brother's voice settled him. "Just, relax, okay? You went pretty quick there…just, easy, okay? Take a few minutes." Sam nodded, quietly relieved to just be able to slump into the warm safety of his brother, and Dean smoothed back his hair. "Do me a favor...how's the breathing? Tight in the chest, hard to breath, throat tight?"
"Nope. Just my chest, from whatever you did."
"What can I say? You weren't waking up any other way." Sam realized what he'd done, Dean running the knuckles of his fist roughly over Sam's sternum to trigger the pain reaction. "Breathing's good though, right?"
"Yeah." He knew Dean nodded, because he knew his brother almost better than himself, and let the quiet linger, the sound of the rain hitting the windows slowly tapering off as time slid on. "Can we go home?"
"Sure. Let me check your arm real fast." The paste had dried, flaking off in big sheets, but he had to admit, the pain was less, the redness down. It still hurt, but not the fire of before. "Alright man, let's get going."
Later, after showering and flopping into bed, he wasn't surprised when Dean hefted his laptop. "Mind?"
"Go for it." Sam wanted to see his brother's reaction when he stumbled across the block on the porn site, and smirked a bit to himself in anticipation. The quiet clacking of the keys was barely audible over the television, but he didn't miss the sharp inhale of Dean's.
"Shit." Sam flicked his gaze over to Dean, but instead of the frustration he was expecting, Dean was pale, eyes too big in his face, horror bright on his features. "Are you 100% sure you're okay? No lying to me Sammy."
"Yeah, I'm good. The sting's still tender, but that's it. A little headache, I guess. What's going on?"
Dean flicked his gaze back to the screen, swallowing hard. "I shoulda trusted my gut there, and gotten you to the emergency room." Tortured green eyes met hazel, and the word was whisper-quiet. "Sorry."
Sam climbed off his bed, nudging Dean's knees aside to get a better look at the screen. The top of the webpage read "Signs of Anaphylaxis in Bee Sting Victims." The page proceeded, listing symptoms, time frame, and repeated warnings that, if ignored, death was a possibility. "But…we were stung as kids, with no problems." He turned, catching Dean's gaze. "Not your fault man. You couldn't have known. Hell, I didn't know."
Dean swallowed hard, gesturing to the page. "Turns out, bees have different venom than wasps, which is different that hornets, etc. You can be fine with one, but shock out from another. Are you sure you're okay?"
Sam knew he was toeing chick-flick territory, but he snagged Dean's wrist, pressing the palm of his brother's hand flat against his own chest, right above his heart. "I'm fine. See? Heart's fine, breathing's fine, I'm not dying. Headache, yeah, but no where near what a concussion feels like. I'm good." Dean snorted softly, pulling his hand free. "Big brother saved the day again."
He got the cocky grin he was hoping for, even if it didn't fully light up the eyes. "Yeah, that's my job."