A/N 1:- A special thanks to my awesome friend 'Mizpah' (from supernaturalville) for beta'ing this story for me. You're great Jules! *Hugs you tight*
A/N 2: - 'Dentro Me' are Italian words, that mean-'Inside Me'. I got the idea from RyanDan's awesome song 'Dentro Me' and it fits well with this story; doesn't it?
A/N 3:- This is a special birthday fic for my awesome friend 'Gabi2305'.
~*~ WISH YOU A VERY HAPPY AND PROSPEROUS BIRTHDAY. (23rd May) ~*~
Chapter – 1
Present Time: - Home of Dr. Jacob Smith, Sioux City, South Dakota; 20th November, 2005
It was raining; heavy raindrops were splattering over the glass window, obscuring the view outside. A lonely figure was standing in front of the window, lost in thought. Once bright jade green expressive eyes were now looking dull. There was no spark of life, only a shadow of sadness glistening in those orbs.
The young man flinched as a loud peal of thunder crashed nearby and a sudden whitish light illuminated the whole room. Swallowing thickly, he somehow controlled himself from the urge to run to the upstairs bedroom where someone so close to his heart, who was afraid of thunder, was laying. Combing a sinewy hand through his cropped dark-blonde hair, he trailed his palm across his weary, stubbled face; somehow trying to wipe away all those tears that were falling unheeded down his cheeks. How could this happen to him? How could he do that to him? Why did he do that to him? He had just found him after two years separation, he had found his reason of living; his source of joy, his only true love in his unsettled lifestyle—his little brother, who was now slowly fading away from him.
Choking a little as a sob bubbled up inside his throat, Dean desperately tried to control his emotions but failed. Yes, he failed; failed to save his brother. He was a failure—A Damn Failure. He could not save his mother, could not even find his long MIA father and now, his brother was dying in front of his very eyes and he could not save him either.
"Damn it, Sammy."
A crashing sound filtered into the small confined room as a strong fist punched the window, breaking it into million little pieces.
Dean stared down at his handiwork; the broken pieces of glass scattered across the windowsill and the floor at his feet. Raindrops were now entering freely through the shattered window and wetting the interior of the room. A trail of thick blood flowed down from his injured right hand and dripped onto the floor, mixing with the growing puddle of rainwater. Dean was not feeling any pain, his wound was not stinging. The only pain he felt – the one that had been killing him from the inside out – was the truth that his brother was - dying.
A thudding sound of booted feet came towards the room, and Dean could tell without turning around who was coming. He and his brother were staying at the home of a doctor friend of Bobby's in Sioux City, after the horrible and unfortunate accident happened to Sam. Smirking bitterly at his own fate, Dean let his mind wander down memory lane to when the demon had gotten them and inflicted its virus upon his brother's body. Dean had tried to save him and kill that demon, but it wasn't easy.
"Damn it, Dean."
Flinching slightly, Dean turned his head a little as a somewhat pissed off annoyed familiar voice barked at his direction.
"What have you done?"
Mumbling something incoherently, Dean glanced at the mixture of blood and water splattered across the shards of glass with somewhat wild and glazed eyes. His bloodied hands were shaking, and he startled as Bobby's hand clasped his once proudly squared but now hunched shoulder. Dean looked at his surrogate father, his lips trembling…
Swallowing reflexively, Bobby closed his eyes for a moment, his heart heavy with grief. He just didn't know how to make the situation better. One of his favorite Winchesters boys was dying and the other, the older was getting ready for it. Whichever way he went, he was at the point of total loss.
"Dean, Sammy wants to see you," the elder hunter said gently, grasping the young man's bleeding hand.
Dean pressed his lips together hard until only a thin line was showing to suppress their quivering. Sniffling, he looked in the opposite direction, although his injured hand was still clasped in Bobby's.
"No. I won't. I…I can't, Bobby." A rebel teardrop spilled from his swollen, red-rimmed orbs.
"Don't son me, Bobby." Dean's sudden angry voice boomed in the small, confining room, overriding the steady drumming sound of the heavy rainfall. "My brother's dying and our almighty father doesn't have time to come over here. We're nobody's son, Bobby. We're nobody's." Dean was now crying, free hand clamped on his mouth as he muffled, "We only have each other, now…now…he's…" Dean's voice hitched a little as he choked his own tears. "…Bo…Bobby!"
"Dean," Bobby tried to assure the obviously grief-stricken young man. Even though he knew what he was going to say would not be convincing; he tried anyway. "Sam's not gonna…"
"Yes, he is Bobby. Don't lie to me." Pulling his hand from Bobby's grasp, Dean wiped the blood on his outer shirt. Keeping his head bowed, Dean continued, "He knows that too, Bobby and…and…that's why he wants to see me." Another tear spilled from his eyes. "He wants to say goodbye. My little brother…," Dean's voice filled with raw emotion and sorrow, "…my Sammy wants to say f****** goodbye to me, damnit!"
Bobby didn't know what to say, how to console Dean. He knew what Dean had been saying was the truth.
"Dean, we're trying to find the cure. We just can't let him go, boy."
"But how?" Spinning on his heel, Dean faced the old bearded hunter and threw his arms in the air. "We tried everything. Every. Damn. Thing, Bobby. But…" Combing his left hand through his hair, he continued, "…she doesn't have any remains left. Nothing, Bobby." Biting his lower lip, he stared into space for a couple of seconds. "She was burned. Everything had burned. There was nothing left, nothing related to Sam and her."
Bobby opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted when the young nurse who had been attending Sam rushed into the room. He studied her slightly disheveled appearance and worried expression, and his heart began to race in panic.
"Dean, Bobby," the young woman gasped. "It's Sam."
Dean's eyes went wide as he heard the frantic tone in the nurse's voice when she said Sam's name. Without wasting a second, he rushed towards the stairs, tailed closely by Bobby and Maria.
"What's wrong with Sam?" Dean asked as he rushed headlong towards Sam's room, taking the stairs two at a time.
"He…he can't breathe. Sam can't breathe. Dr. Smith is checking him and has him on oxygen, but his heartbeat is too slow and he's struggling for every breath." Swallowing nervously, Maria continued. "I'm sorry, Dean."
"NO." Dean screamed and spun so quickly to face the young woman that she almost ran into him. His eyes were wild like he wasn't in himself. Maria retreated until her back was pressed against the wall as Dean took a couple of large steps and grabbed her shoulders, giving her a little shake.
"No, you hear me? Just no! He's not gonna die. He is NOT. GONNA. DIE!"
"Dean! What are you doing?"
Dean backed off as Bobby's strong hands grabbed his chest from behind and pried the clearly disoriented and anxious young man off the poor nurse. Confining Dean in his strong embrace, Bobby easily subdued his struggles. "C'mon, boy, don't do this. Leave her alone."
Dragging Dean up on the stairs, Bobby spared an apologetic glance at the kind nurse, who was still standing speechless where Dean had cornered her. Sighing in relief when she nodded in understanding, Bobby gripped Dean's bicep and said, "Don't lose yaself, Dean. For Sam's sake, don't you dare lose now."
Pushing the door open with a loud bang, Dean stormed into the room where his brother was currently laying on a bed in the far corner. Sam's upper body was slightly elevated so he could breathe a little easier, and an oxygen mask was covering his mouth. His attending physician, Dr. Jacob Smith, was fiddling with Sam's IV tube, but that wasn't Dean's main concern. All he could see was his little brother struggling to breathe, his chest heaving upward with each intake of fought-for breath. Long dark bangs were plastered against his sweaty forehead.
Dean seemed to have stuck to the ground upon seeing his baby brother on his death bed. His lips were moving but nothing other than a sob came out of his perched mouth. Forcing his rubbery legs to propel him weakly toward the bed, Dean felt his entire body go numb as he flopped down beside his brother and picked up one of Sam's limp cold hands, holding it in his. Rubbing his fingers softly over the smooth tanned skin of his brother, Dean whispered, "Sammy?"
A tiny but sad smile ghosted across Dean's lips as a pair of eyelids fluttered partway open to reveal those once expressive but now glazed pain-filled green hazels. Sam's eyes immediately fixed on Dean's face, his fingers curling into his brother's palm as his lips moved soundlessly.
Dean leaned a little towards his sibling's face, trying to understand what his brother was trying to say.
"What is it, Sammy?"
Sam closed his pale eyelids for a moment and heaved slightly. It was getting harder to draw a proper breath. He could feel his time was coming to an end; the demon-witch had zapped her curse on him, declaring that he would die within a week. And, Sam gasped softly as if thinking had been making him exhausted; today was the seventh day. Sam knew Dean had tried to save him; had tried to find the cure, but failed. And it wasn't his fault, although Sam knew Dean had been blaming himself for his condition.
Dean thought that his brother had once again drifted into sleep, but frowned when Sam opened his eyes again. Licking his chapped lips, Sam weakly raised his IV line-inserted arm and tapped lightly on his oxygen mask, indicating for Dean to remove it from his face.
"No Sammy. You need it." Dean grasped Sam's arm carefully but firmly and shook his head.
"I…ahhh…" Sam tried to talk but the mask was blocking his voice. He needed to tell something to his brother, and he didn't have much time left. It was important that he pass the information to Dean, otherwise more young people like himself who had already lost a loved one…would die soon like he was going to. The demon-witch was still outside; wandering freely and she needed to be stopped, permanently. Jessica had told him…
A rebel teardrop fell from his eye and trickled down to his temple as he remembered his beloved dead girlfriend who had come to him in his dreams, imparting to him the news he had to give to his brother.
Seeing Sam becoming so distressed panicked Dean. He could sense something was off and his little brother was trying to tell him something. But, he knew that Sam needed the artificial help to breathe. Nervously, Dean looked at the kind middle-aged doctor who, along with Bobby, was also watching the fragile young patient with concern.
"Doc," Not exactly knowing what he should do, Dean called the doctor hesitantly. "Is that okay if we take that mask off for a minute?" Green orbs again wandered towards his little brother's pale, almost waxen face. "It won't hurt him, will it?"
Dr. Smith swallowed nervously; not knowing what to tell the overprotective big brother when he knew it would not take long before the youngest one stopped breathing. He had never handled a patient like Sam before, even though he knew everything about hunters, hunting things, demons, witches, curses and cures – every single damn thing. That had been the reason the older Winchester boy had brought his cursed, almost dying younger brother to him the day before yesterday, along with his friend Bobby Singer.
Young Sam Winchester had been suffering from a heart condition, but shockingly there was no trace of any inflammation, cardiac disorder or anything else that could manage to cause an attack or organ failure. His heart was getting weaker with each passing day and the only pain Sam had been feeling was a burning sensation that seared through this sensitive organ. This was not any medical disorder; Jacob had done every possible test on the poor boy but found none, except excessive 'bradyarrhythmia' that had been slowing his pulse down at a frightening rate.
The doctor gave the extremely sick young man the anti-arrhythmic drugs through the intravenous and other usual medications, though his condition kept deteriorating fast. Sam had started having trouble breathing that afternoon, so Jacob had to put him on an oxygen mask instead of the usual nasal canula. But still, the more time was passing by, the more the littlest Winchester's chances of surviving were growing thin, and now he was fighting for every tiny breath, instead of being able to take whatever comfort they were trying to give him. The oldest hunter and the doctor could see that Sam did not have much time left, it was only a few hour to midnight and according to that witch's curse, Sam would die within this time span. It would not hurt the boy more than he already was if he were to take the mask off for a few minutes.
"Okay, Dean. We could take his mask off for a while." Dr. Smith walked toward his young patient's bed and unfastened the mask straps, placing it beside Sam's pillow. Turning towards Dean, he spoke again, "Make sure he doesn't stress himself. A little excitement can cause fatal harm." Looking at Sam, whose eyes were half mast now and breathing extremely shallow, Jacob let his fingers brush the boy's unruly chocolaty brown bangs. Sighing sadly, he stepped away from the patient's bed and looked at Dean who was now distractedly staring at his little brother, tears shimmering on the edges of his eyelids.
"We'll leave you boys for some time."
Getting no response from the older Winchester, the doctor spared a glance towards Bobby who nodded in acknowledgement and gestured him to leave the room, allowing the boys some privacy.
Dean asked softly, trying not to startle his extremely sick brother yet fearing that Sam had fallen asleep. Over the last three days, the one fear that had been nagging him inside was that if Sam fell asleep, he might not wake up again. 'No, no, no, no negative thinking…' Shaking his head vigorously, he repeatedly brushed his brother's hair.
A small but genuine smile ghosted across Dean's lips as Sam's eyelids tugged open slowly, revealing slits of beautiful hazel green orbs.
Sam's voice was almost inaudible.
Leaning a little closer to his brother's face, Dean answered while gently taking Sam's left hand into his.
"Yeah, Sammy, I'm here." His voice broke as tears threatened to fall. Swallowing quickly, Dean somehow managed to dismiss his sorrow, eliciting a crooked 'Dean-Winchester-trademark' smile. "Your awesome big brother's here."
Sam tried to take a deep breath, wincing as this little act stressed his already weak heart muscle. He felt Dean's hand immediately start rubbing his left pec in a soothing motion.
"Dean." This time, Sam's voice sounded a little stronger than before.
"What is it, Sam?"
"What?" Dean frowned. 'Yes, this is the typical Sam Winchester manner. Always feels sorry for whatever happens.' Thinking wryly, Dean pressed Sam's cold hand against his own cheek. "What are you saying sorry for? You haven't done anything wrong, brother." 'It's me who couldn't save you from this curse. It's me who should'a been sorry for every damn thing. It's me who broke his promise that he made to his father to protect Sammy. It's me who has failed his one and only job.'
Sam's lower lip was trembling now; dozens of emotions were playing across his young, innocent face. He had so much to tell his big brother, to apologize for; but sadly…there was not much time left.
"You what, Sammy? You what?"
Dean could see that his brother wanted to say something more than he was sorry.
"It…in…uh…in…" Squeezing his eyes shut, Sam gasped as a piercing, burning sensation almost ripped his heart apart.
Seeing his brother in agony, Dean leaned closer and gently cradled Sam's neck in his palm while his other arm wrapped around Sam's waist. Pulling his brother slightly towards his chest, Dean started rocking him like he used to do when Sammy was little.
"'S okay Sammy. I gotcha', I gotcha' little brother. Everything's gonna be alright. Big brother's here Sammy. Sam, you'll be okay."
Sam's head was now resting in the crook of Dean's neck, long pale arms were draping over his big brother's shoulder, embracing him like a human necklace. Dean's left palm buried into Sam's thick wavy hair and his other hand was supporting the younger man's back.
"Sammy?" Dean whispered.
"In…inside…ahh…me…" Sam's voice was getting fainter as time was running out on him.
"What?" Dean's breathed hot on Sam's neck as his brother spilled something completely out of nowhere. "What are you talking about Sammy? What's inside you?" Fearing his little brother was getting delirious due to the pain and talking insane, Dean tightened his grip around him and buried his face in Sam's neck.
Getting no immediate response from his brother, Dean shook him gently.
"Sammy, talk to me. Please, Sam."
"Save who, Sam?"
A chill of fear gradually crept through Dean's veins – Sam was talking nonsense.
'Cure?' Dean pulled his head from Sam's neck and held his brother's lolling face between his hands. Brushing a soothing palm on Sam's face, he shook him again.
"Sammy, hey hey, what're ya talking about? You know the cure? Where it is?"
Sam's eyes were closed, mouth hanging agape, tiny puffs of ragged breaths dispensing through his nose and open mouth. His chest was hitching with each inhalation.
"Don't wa…wan'a go D'n…Jess tol' me…inside me…you take it…kill the…uh…witch…save…save…" Without warning, Sam head dropped backward as he stopped mumbling all of a sudden.
"Sammy?" Dean's eyes were rolling from right to left in their sockets, as Sam suddenly stopped talking and his body went limp.
Dean patted Sam's cheek lightly, trying to rouse the young man from his stupor, but failed. Looking at the wall clock, Dean noticed that it was only 10 p.m. 'Only two hours left, have to save Sammy…' Dean was mumbling incoherently.
"Sammy, wake up. Please Sam, wake up."
But the younger boy remained unresponsive, limbs jerking with each shake as his big brother tried to bring him back from the pit of unconsciousness. Eyes blurred with tears, Dean failed to detect whether his brother was breathing or not.
Dean cupped his little brother's chin and frowned, feeling something warm and sticky dripping onto his palm.
'Take care of your brother.'
'You can't kill me, but it will kill your brother within seven days.'
'Nothing left. Everything's burned.'
'Don't wa…wan'a go D'n…'
'Only few hours left.'
'Sam's gonna die. You couldn't find the cure in time.'
A million thoughts of previous incidents and conversations flooded over Dean's senses. He hugged Sammy's limp body more tightly to his chest and cried…
Before you all shoot me, I want to tell you something. I DO NOT write Deathfics/Wincest/Adult theme etc etc. I DO NOT. I'm not Kripke and we all love our Sammy too much to kill him, don't we! I'm just messing with him again, and believe me…This is just the BEGINNING.
Tell me what you girls think is gonna happen next? Will Dean find the cure? What is the cure? I've left enough hints…just find the clue and let me know…Sherlock Holmes! (LOL)
Reviews are love. You girls love me too, don't you?
Thanks for reading, Ritu.