serafina20 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
serafina20) wrote2006-09-29 10:33 pm
serafina20) wrote2006-09-29 10:33 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Another Kind of Trap (17/17)
Title Another Kind of Trap (17/17)
Author![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serafina20
Rating R
Spoilers Through Devil's Trap
Summary Rachel gives her theory on the demon's goal with its seemingly random torture.
Pairing Dean/OFC, mild Sam/Sarah
Notes Mild "In My Time of Dying" spoilers. And, yes, there will be another fic picking up where this leaves off.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16
He waited until he was sure they were gone. At least twenty minutes, he figured should do it. Then, even though he knew he should sleep too, he did what he knew he should not.
Carefully, Dean removed the IV from his arm. Blood swelled out, but he taped it down with the gauze he found in a cabinet. Then he pulled the heart monitors off, threw them on the bed. Slipped on a pair of pajama pants--he'd begged Rachel to bring him real clothes, but she'd refused, saying it'd only give him the impulse to get up and explore. Well, nothing but nothing was going to stop him from wandering around, even in his PJs.
Robe on. Slippers on. And he was ready to go.
Walking was not the easiest thing in the world. It was a miracle he wasn't caught on his trek to the elevator. His legs felt like putty. His arms ached. His chest hurt with every breath and his head spun because he couldn't quite get the air in.
But fate smiled on him and no nurse or doctor saw him. He made it to the elevator. Inside and to the floor his father was on.
The door opened on Dr. Issacon's grim face.
"Ah. Man," Dean panted. He hit his head on the wall.
"Sit, Dean," the doctor said. He pointed to the wheelchair the orderly next to him was holding, ready.
"I just want to see my father, man," he protested. But he sat anyway. His legs were shaking and a knife went through him with every breath. "Just wanna see him."
"I know. But we need to make sure you haven't injured yourself." He wheeled Dean into a nearby room. Hooked him up to a heart machine, took his blood pressure and checked how he was breathing. "Your heart rate's up. Expected, but also a good sign. You're not oxenigating well, though. James, get a tank of oxygen. We'll hook it to the wheelchair."
The orderly left in a flash, leaving Dean and the doctor alone.
"You gonna let me see my dad?" Dean asked. His chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it.
He nodded. "Since you're up here. In fact, you've been doing very well the past couple days. I think I would have approved an official visit, had you asked."
Dean snorted.
"Since your episode three days ago, you're heart's gone up almost four beats per minute. You're not sleeping well, but I've noticed none of your family is, either. I could give you a sedative to help you out..."
"Not until I see my father," he said, setting his jaw.
The doctor sighed. He said nothing until the orderly came back with the oxygen. Dean had to admit that he felt a lot more human once he was hooked up.
"If my heart rate's up," he asked, "why did coming up the elevator make me feel like I was running a marathon?"
"It's up, almost normal, but you've still been injured. And badly. You need time to heal. Time, rest, and physical therapy." He took the wheelchair and wheeled Dean out of the room. "I'll have you start with easy exercises tomorrow. Provided you get a full night's sleep."
"Don't think that's possible in a hospital."
"Try." Dr. Issacon stopped outside a room. "Fifteen minutes. That's it. No arguments."
"But..."
"Fifteen minutes," he reiterated. Then he pushed Dean inside.
All thought of arguing died on Dean's tongue when he saw Dad. Dad, who had always been so big and strong, now all pale and wasted. God.
Dean's knees were pressed against the bed. He was able to take his father's hand.
"So, uh. Sorry I haven't been here before," he said. His voice was horse. And it was weird talking with the oxygen pumping in his nose. "They have all these rules." Tape scratched at his face, and it hurt to talk. Irritated, Dean yanked the oxygen tubes from his nose. "Anyway. Sam and Rachel and I are working on getting you awake. You know Rachel, right? Brown hair, always has ink on her chin? Annoying as hell? Smarter than Sammy? Well. Maybe smarter than Sammy, the jury's still out on that. Anyway, Sam decided that she would be a good choice to protect us if something like this ever happened. And I guess she's doing a decent enough job."
He frowned and bit his bottom lip. Then he leaned forward, crossed his arms on the bed and rested his chin. The movement caused some kind of tearing in his chest. It made his breath catch, but it got bearable and he forgot it.
"The thing is, Dad. Well. The thing is, this girl and I. We're kind of. I don't know. I have no clue what we are." He shrugged, wincing as it brought on more tearing. "The hospital thinks we're married. And I guess I like her." He swallowed. Pressed his forehead on his arms. "Guess I love her. Whatever, I don't know." He picked his head up again, resting his chin on his arms. "She drives me crazy. And I'm terrified of losing her."
It was getting dark in the room. And it was harder to see. Like there was smoke in the air or something. He blinked a few times, but it didn't help. And it hurt to breathe again.
Dean rubbed his hand on his chest. It was wet or something. Sticky.
"Dad, you have to wake up," he whispered. Even though he could hear the beeping of the machines that his father was hooked up to, they seemed so far away. Fuzzy. Distant. "I know that you've got that demon in you still. Keep fighting him. Don't let it get the better of you."
God, he was so tired. He hadn't been this tired when he'd left his room. He'd been better. It'd been....
* * *
Dean opened his eyes. It was silent. Way too silent in here. He didn't like it.
He stretched his back, then swung his legs over the bed. The floor was cold under his feet, but he ignored it. Glanced at the clock on the bedside and saw it was ten AM.
Where the hell were Rachel and Sam then? They'd agreed to meet here first thing in the morning. Ten AM was not first thing.
"Rose," he said, approaching the nurse's station. "Do you know where my brother and Rachel are?"
Rose, who was typing at the computer, ignored him.
Dean blinked. Rose loved him. And he loved when she was on duty, because she was always bringing him stuff. Like edible food. "Rose? Hey." He snapped his fingers in front of her face.
She didn't even blink.
What the hell?
"Sam! Rachel!" Dean shouted. He turned. There were others striding up and down the hall. "Hey! Dude! Lady! Look at me!"
None of them did.
"What the fuck is happening?" Dean shouted in pure frustration. Okay, if Sam and Rachel weren't here, that must mean they were with Dad. He'd just walk there and...
He stopped abruptly. Turned.
His body was lying back in his bed. There was an intubation tube in his throat and nose. The monitors were back in full force.
Dean wasn't in his body.
"Oh. Fuck."
Fin
Author
serafina20Rating R
Spoilers Through Devil's Trap
Summary Rachel gives her theory on the demon's goal with its seemingly random torture.
Pairing Dean/OFC, mild Sam/Sarah
Notes Mild "In My Time of Dying" spoilers. And, yes, there will be another fic picking up where this leaves off.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16
He waited until he was sure they were gone. At least twenty minutes, he figured should do it. Then, even though he knew he should sleep too, he did what he knew he should not.
Carefully, Dean removed the IV from his arm. Blood swelled out, but he taped it down with the gauze he found in a cabinet. Then he pulled the heart monitors off, threw them on the bed. Slipped on a pair of pajama pants--he'd begged Rachel to bring him real clothes, but she'd refused, saying it'd only give him the impulse to get up and explore. Well, nothing but nothing was going to stop him from wandering around, even in his PJs.
Robe on. Slippers on. And he was ready to go.
Walking was not the easiest thing in the world. It was a miracle he wasn't caught on his trek to the elevator. His legs felt like putty. His arms ached. His chest hurt with every breath and his head spun because he couldn't quite get the air in.
But fate smiled on him and no nurse or doctor saw him. He made it to the elevator. Inside and to the floor his father was on.
The door opened on Dr. Issacon's grim face.
"Ah. Man," Dean panted. He hit his head on the wall.
"Sit, Dean," the doctor said. He pointed to the wheelchair the orderly next to him was holding, ready.
"I just want to see my father, man," he protested. But he sat anyway. His legs were shaking and a knife went through him with every breath. "Just wanna see him."
"I know. But we need to make sure you haven't injured yourself." He wheeled Dean into a nearby room. Hooked him up to a heart machine, took his blood pressure and checked how he was breathing. "Your heart rate's up. Expected, but also a good sign. You're not oxenigating well, though. James, get a tank of oxygen. We'll hook it to the wheelchair."
The orderly left in a flash, leaving Dean and the doctor alone.
"You gonna let me see my dad?" Dean asked. His chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it.
He nodded. "Since you're up here. In fact, you've been doing very well the past couple days. I think I would have approved an official visit, had you asked."
Dean snorted.
"Since your episode three days ago, you're heart's gone up almost four beats per minute. You're not sleeping well, but I've noticed none of your family is, either. I could give you a sedative to help you out..."
"Not until I see my father," he said, setting his jaw.
The doctor sighed. He said nothing until the orderly came back with the oxygen. Dean had to admit that he felt a lot more human once he was hooked up.
"If my heart rate's up," he asked, "why did coming up the elevator make me feel like I was running a marathon?"
"It's up, almost normal, but you've still been injured. And badly. You need time to heal. Time, rest, and physical therapy." He took the wheelchair and wheeled Dean out of the room. "I'll have you start with easy exercises tomorrow. Provided you get a full night's sleep."
"Don't think that's possible in a hospital."
"Try." Dr. Issacon stopped outside a room. "Fifteen minutes. That's it. No arguments."
"But..."
"Fifteen minutes," he reiterated. Then he pushed Dean inside.
All thought of arguing died on Dean's tongue when he saw Dad. Dad, who had always been so big and strong, now all pale and wasted. God.
Dean's knees were pressed against the bed. He was able to take his father's hand.
"So, uh. Sorry I haven't been here before," he said. His voice was horse. And it was weird talking with the oxygen pumping in his nose. "They have all these rules." Tape scratched at his face, and it hurt to talk. Irritated, Dean yanked the oxygen tubes from his nose. "Anyway. Sam and Rachel and I are working on getting you awake. You know Rachel, right? Brown hair, always has ink on her chin? Annoying as hell? Smarter than Sammy? Well. Maybe smarter than Sammy, the jury's still out on that. Anyway, Sam decided that she would be a good choice to protect us if something like this ever happened. And I guess she's doing a decent enough job."
He frowned and bit his bottom lip. Then he leaned forward, crossed his arms on the bed and rested his chin. The movement caused some kind of tearing in his chest. It made his breath catch, but it got bearable and he forgot it.
"The thing is, Dad. Well. The thing is, this girl and I. We're kind of. I don't know. I have no clue what we are." He shrugged, wincing as it brought on more tearing. "The hospital thinks we're married. And I guess I like her." He swallowed. Pressed his forehead on his arms. "Guess I love her. Whatever, I don't know." He picked his head up again, resting his chin on his arms. "She drives me crazy. And I'm terrified of losing her."
It was getting dark in the room. And it was harder to see. Like there was smoke in the air or something. He blinked a few times, but it didn't help. And it hurt to breathe again.
Dean rubbed his hand on his chest. It was wet or something. Sticky.
"Dad, you have to wake up," he whispered. Even though he could hear the beeping of the machines that his father was hooked up to, they seemed so far away. Fuzzy. Distant. "I know that you've got that demon in you still. Keep fighting him. Don't let it get the better of you."
God, he was so tired. He hadn't been this tired when he'd left his room. He'd been better. It'd been....
* * *
Dean opened his eyes. It was silent. Way too silent in here. He didn't like it.
He stretched his back, then swung his legs over the bed. The floor was cold under his feet, but he ignored it. Glanced at the clock on the bedside and saw it was ten AM.
Where the hell were Rachel and Sam then? They'd agreed to meet here first thing in the morning. Ten AM was not first thing.
"Rose," he said, approaching the nurse's station. "Do you know where my brother and Rachel are?"
Rose, who was typing at the computer, ignored him.
Dean blinked. Rose loved him. And he loved when she was on duty, because she was always bringing him stuff. Like edible food. "Rose? Hey." He snapped his fingers in front of her face.
She didn't even blink.
What the hell?
"Sam! Rachel!" Dean shouted. He turned. There were others striding up and down the hall. "Hey! Dude! Lady! Look at me!"
None of them did.
"What the fuck is happening?" Dean shouted in pure frustration. Okay, if Sam and Rachel weren't here, that must mean they were with Dad. He'd just walk there and...
He stopped abruptly. Turned.
His body was lying back in his bed. There was an intubation tube in his throat and nose. The monitors were back in full force.
Dean wasn't in his body.
"Oh. Fuck."
Fin