Set in Season 2 a couple of weeks after John's death.
There were times in life when Dean hated his big brother's coddling, but this wasn't one of those times. Lying on the floor of some shitty old house struggling to breathe, Dean didn't give a crap about his independence, he just wanted more air to enter his lungs, and he didn't think that was too much of an ask.
"Dean…Dean…" Sam's voice pulled him from the haze as he flickered his eyes open. Glancing up slightly, Dean spotted his older brother knelt down on the floor beside him with worry etched into his features. "Hold on, De…just hold on…"
That was easier said than done. Your body doesn't tend to work overly well when it's deprived of oxygen. He could feel himself slipping further and further towards unconsciousness as his eyelids became heavier and heavier with every second. It hurt. Every part of his body was begging for relief from the burning sensation that the lack of oxygen was causing. He could feel himself shaking and knew that Sam could feel it too as his hand was currently resting on his back, gently stroking it to try and help his breathing in any way possible. Even if he could get oxygen, Dean doubted he could even breathe it in. His throat was making everything just that little more unpleasant, his wheezy breaths being the reason behind why every whisper of oxygen felt like sandpaper in his throat.
Sam was full on panicking now, signalling to Dean that his lips must be have started turning purple, just like they always did when he was having a really shitty day. "Dean…Dean…hold on, buddy…" He was cut off as he started hacking into the sleeve of his dark purple plaid shirt.
"S'm…" Dean weakly called out for his big brother, seeing just how not okay he was either. He could see the determination in Sam's eyes, the reluctance to give up, and the shame that accompanied not being able to protect his little brother. The idea that if he collapsed right now, Dean could possibly die. But if Sam didn't just get himself out of here soon, he wasn't gonna' be the only one dying. "You…you need…"
"Shh…" Sam hushed. "Don't try and talk, okay? Just focus on trying to get any oxygen you can…" Dean hated the weakness in his big brother's voice. Sam was the strong one, he wasn't supposed to be scared. Nothing scares Sam. And that's what made everything even worse.
They had been squatting in the old house for a couple of days now without much problem, until some little shits decided they were gonna' torch the place for fun, totally unaware that Sam and his asthmatic ass were inside. He had been woken as the smoke began to make him cough, the sound of his struggles then immediately waking Sam too. The flames had already blocked all ways out of the building by then, rendering them trapped. Sam had dragged him across the room, getting them both as far away from the fire as possible before laying him down on the floor, where there was more air. He then set about trying to keep Dean's airways clear for as long as he could by rubbing his back. That had been well over twenty minutes ago though, and Bobby still hadn't arrived. Sam had managed to call him when they were both still functioning properly, but his phone had died before he could give the complete address, so Bobby knew the town, just not their specific location. The flames had spread to the doorway of the room they were occupying.
Watching the ever approaching flames, Sam's mind cast back to that night. The night in which he'd saw their mother on the ceiling. Blood staining the white of her nightdress a dark shade of red, as she screamed and screamed. Her screams were deafening now as he couldn't shake the memories.
"S'm..." Dean very weakly glanced up at his brother, seeing the distress in his eyes and knowing the reason behind it instantly. "S'm...it's..." He wheezed. "...she's...n't...here...pl's...S'm..." Reaching out a shaky hand, Dean found his big brother's and squeezed it as hard as he could, which Dean knew probably wasn't very hard.
Feeling the contact, Sam looked down at his little brother. The little bundle that he had ran out of the house with that night. That he had tried so hard to protect from the smoke but ultimately failed, and he saw hope. Even though Dean was coughing and spluttering as his body struggled for breaths, Sam could still see the determination in the face of everything. Anything Sam could see however, was his little brother's eyelids beginning to flutter. "No, no, no. Dean..." Sam gently tapped his brother's cheek before wrapping an arm around his back and gently rubbing a hand up and down it once again. "It won't be much longer. Bobby'll find us, and then we'll go to the hospital, find you some air that's not full of burning plastic and wood." He paused. "Bobby'll come...he always does...and he always willl...just hold on..." Dean slunked down slightly in Sam's hold so that his head was resting against the point between Sam's chest and shoulder. Sam smiled softly. "You hanging in there?"
Dean nodded against him.
"Boys?!" Sam heard a beautiful voice shout.
"Bobby!" He screamed in reply. "Bobby, we're in here!"
"There! Hurry!" New voices followed before the sound of a spray. Water began to gush into the room, running across the floor. The firefighters clearly creating a path through the maze of fire.
"Is anyone hurt?" One of the crew asked.
"My youngest nephew, he's asthmatic. The smoke will have affected him." Bobby explained.
Sam looked down at his brother, finding his eyes closed. "No, no, no, Dean!" He shouted, holding a hand over his brother's mouth to find that he had stopped breathing. "Dean!" Sam then looked up at the doorway. "Help!" He screamed. "Help! Please...help!" His voice broke down as he was reduced to harsh, desperate sobs. "Please!" He hacked into his sleeve, before black spots began to dance in his vision. Everything went black after that.
As the flames diminished, the firemen rushed in.
"You have to stay outside, Sir." One of the firemen stated.
"Like hell I am, they're my boys!" Bobby replied fiercely as he rushed into the house. Entering the room in which the boys had been trapped inside, his eyes widened at the sight before him. Both of the brothers lay unconscious on the floor. The crew began to assess the boys before they two stretchers were brought in and they were transferred to an ambulance. "There's no room for you to ride, Sir, but you can follow behind." He was informed. Bobby nodded in response before racing to his car and driving off after the ambulance.
As the haze melted away to black, Sam found himself coming to. Groaning slightly, he coughed as his dry throat rebelled.
Sam flickered his eyes open to see Bobby sat in a chair beside him. He was offering a glass of water. "Thanks." Sam took the glass from him and took a drink, the cool water successfully extinguishing the fire in his throat. Sitting upright, he swung his legs round the side of the bed, before noticing that the medical staff had left him his clothing.
Bobby placed a hand on his knee. "You scared me for a second there, kid."
"Sorry about that." Sam apologised. "But we didn't exactly our squat was gonna' be torched...Where's Dean?"
"He's fine, I've just been up there to give him his coffee." Bobby answered. "His throat's all jacked, but apart from that, he's good."
Sam nodded. "Good."
Arriving at Dean's room, Sam smiled at the sight of his little brother sitting on the side of the bed. He was currently in the process of flirting with one of the nurses, but Sam could clearly see it was more to try and get another cup of coffee out of her, rather than any form of romantic interest.
"I'll see what I can do." The nurse stated before winking at him.
Dean shot her a grin before she walked out the room.
"So I see you're better than." Sam entered the room and made his way over to Dean.
"Chicks dig the whole wounded thing." Dean replied, his voice rough.
"Dean, she's a nurse..."
"So?" Dean furrowed an eyebrow.
"Well good luck with that." Sam replied sarcastically before looking his little brother over. Gone was the blue colour from his lips, making Sam thankful that the crew had managed to get to them in time.
"Sam...I'm fine you know." Dean stated.
"I know, but I'm allowed to worry." Sam answered with a soft smile.
"What about you?" Dean began.
"What about me?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
Sam remained silent.
"Sam...I know you were thinking about Mom..."
Sam released a breath. "Yeah...yeah, I was. It was the night of the fire, and I heard her..." He paused, deciding to protect his little brother from the heavier details. "And I remembered how I did a crappy job at protecting you."
"A crappy?..." Dean scoffed. "Sam, you saved me that night. You carried me out of the house."
"Yeah well I didn't do a very good job of it, did I?" Sam stated.
"Is this because of my asthma? Sam, that's not your fault."
"Yes it is..." Sam paused. "I tried to cover you from the smoke, but it didn't work."
"I don't blame you for this. Yeah, I hate having asthma, but I deal with it. It's just something I've had to learn to live with. This wasn't your fault, Sam. I would never blame you for this."
Sam smiled softly. "I'm glad you're okay, Dean."
Dean nodded. They were both silent for a moment before he spoke up. "I hope that nurse is actually bringing me a coffee."
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