Apparitions and Ailments

Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: If I owned them, my name would be Eric Kripke.

A/N: Thanks to Kelli for her usual beta reading. I couldn't do it without my best cheerleader.

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Not only is the universe stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine - Arthur Eddington

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Dean Winchester hated hospitals. They were too clean, too bright, and people only went there when they were sick or hurt – or waiting for someone who was sick or hurt. There was no entertainment in the waiting rooms. The televisions always seemed to be tuned to a news channel, the vending machines sold bad coffee and there were no dart boards or pool tables. There was nothing to do but pace or stare out of the windows. Dean had been pacing for the last twenty minutes.

He and his brother were only passing through town on their way to a job in the next state. They'd enjoyed a few days of downtime after getting rid of a small band of vampires preying on a camp full of teenagers. It was the plot of a bad horror movie, and that didn't escape the Winchester sense of humor.

They checked into the nondescript motel just after twilight on a summer night. After driving all day, Dean was ready for a few hours of fun at a bar. As usual, Sam was ready to leave after a couple of beers. He asked Dean for the car keys, offering to pick him up later, but the bar was less than a mile away from the motel and Dean said he would walk.

After getting his fill of beer and tequila shots, collecting phone numbers he would never call and winning a few hundred dollars playing pool, Dean headed back to the motel. He expected to find Sam asleep, or maybe lost in a book, but collapsed on the bathroom floor never occurred to him.

Dean had walked into the room, feeling good, and noticed Sam's bed was empty. He called his brother's name, but got no response. He saw the bathroom door was closed and knocked on it once before flopping onto his bed. It was a few minutes before he started to become concerned.

"Sam?" Dean called, not moving from the bed. When there was still no response, Dean sat up and called his brother's name again.

A moment later, Dean was at the bathroom door. "Sam? Come on, man," he knocked on the door and waited. "Okay, I'm coming in."

Dean hesitantly reached out for the doorknob; the lock wasn't engaged so he turned the knob and gently pushed open the door. "Sam?"

He saw his brother lying on the floor, fully clothed, and rushed to his side. Dean examined him briefly, then turned him onto his back. Sam was breathing and there were no apparent injuries, but he was completely non-responsive. Dean quickly took in the room; it looked like Sam had been getting ready to take a shower.

Dean looked for obvious injuries, but found nothing. A moment later, Sam's eyes fluttered open and he looked at his brother, confused. "What happened?"

"You tell me. I just got here and found you unconscious. Did you have a vision?"

Sam shook his head slowly. "I don't think so."

"Do you feel okay?" Dean asked as he helped Sam sit up.

Sam rubbed his forehead. "Yeah."

"Maybe you just need some sleep." Dean suggested, not at all confident.

Dean didn't get much sleep that night due to worry. The next morning Sam was suffering no ill effects, but the same thing happened four more times over the next month. Despite Dean's insistence and Sam's own growing nervousness, he refused to see a doctor. It wasn't until earlier in the evening that he lost his choice.

Dean left their motel room to get something out of the Impala's trunk and when he got back to the room, Sam was unconscious on the floor next to his bed. Dean tried everything he knew to revive his brother, but nothing worked, so now he was pacing in a hospital waiting room. It was a fairly small, county facility and not equipped for major emergencies. It was really little more than a clinic, but Dean hoped the doctor could diagnose his brother's condition without moving him to a larger place.

He looked at his cell phone to check the time, even though there was a clock on the wall across the room. Instead of putting the phone away when he saw the phone agreed with the clock, he absently scrolled through the list of contacts programmed into the phone. Dean had a lot of numbers, but no one he wanted to call. Their father was dead, apparently in some exchange for Dean's own life. Caleb and Pastor Jim, people he and Sam had grown up trusting, were also dead. He could call Ellen Harvelle, an old friend of their father's and someone who was becoming more a part of their lives, but Dean wasn't sure she was entirely on their side and didn't really feel a connection to her. Bobby. Dean almost pressed the button that would connect him with their friend, but there was nothing to tell him yet.

Bobby Singer was an old friend of their father's, but, like with most of his old friends, there had been a falling out. That didn't stop Bobby from coming to their aid several times in the last year since they reconnected. He told them about the Devil's Trap they ended up using to ensnare the possessed Meg. He also helped after the car accident that nearly took all of their lives and the brothers stayed with him after being released from the hospital. Bobby was an expert on demon possession and cared about the boys almost as much as their own father had. Bobby was part of the family.

Dean was in a corner of the waiting room, cell phone in his hands, and his finger ready to push the button that would dial Bobby's number. It was comforting to know there was someone he could call. Since his father's death, Dean had felt very much alone. He had the burden of protecting his brother from something he didn't fully understand and knew if he failed, it would be his responsibility to kill Sam.

He shook his head as the thought came to him. He promised his father, he promised Sam, but Dean didn't really think he could kill his brother. How could he when he'd spent almost his entire life taking care of and protecting him?

Dean looked up when he saw a woman in a lab coat coming toward him. She was probably in her late fifties and looked like someone's grandmother.

"Mr. Kilmister? I'm Dr. Sharp."

Dean generally used aliases related to classic rock bands and Lemmy Kilmister was the lead vocalist for one of his favorites, Motorhead.

He stood up. "How's my brother?"

The doctor paused, apparently gathering her thoughts. "He's still unconscious, but his heart rate is good and he's breathing on his own. There's no obvious head injury and I've ordered some blood tests, but I suspect we'll end up having to transfer him to Hobart."

"Hobart?"

"It's a much larger hospital about fifty miles away. They have much more extensive diagnostic tools than we have here." her voice was soothing. "I've read the medical history you provided us with when you filled out the admittance paperwork. Your brother has passed out this way before?"

Dean nodded. "It's happened three or four times in the last month, but he came to pretty fast."

"No history of migraines, epilepsy –"

"No, nothing. Sam is healthy."

"He hasn't had anything unusual to eat or drink; no food allergies?"

"No."

Dean watched as the doctor made a few notes in Sam's chart. She asked a few more questions before putting her pen down.

"Do you have any idea what it might be?" Dean asked fearfully.

"It's too early to say; at this point it could be almost anything."

"When can I see him?"

"It's well past visiting hours, but once we've got him settled in a room, a nurse will come for you."

Dean nodded.

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It was almost an hour before Dean was taken to his brother's room. He stood just inside the door, staring at the still form in the bed. Sam was covered only by a sheet and connected to a monitor and IV.

"What's going on with you, Sammy?" Dean whispered as he stood next to the bed. "You can't do this to me, man. You can't be sick, okay? Not on top of everything else."

Dean moved a chair closer to the bed and settled in for a long wait. He had no intention of leaving his brother's side.

Sam opened his eyes and tried to figure out where he was. The last thing he remembered was being in a motel room with Dean; they had been watching an old black and white horror movie and sharing a bag of M&Ms. At first he thought he was having a vision, but this felt too real.

He could feel the dampness of the room around him and he shivered from the cold. It was dark, enough light had started coming from somewhere that he could tell he was in a small room. The walls appeared to be made of stone, like in a medieval castle, and the floor where he sat was dirt. He couldn't tell where the light was coming from, but there was no furniture in the room.

Sam.

He looked around for the source of the sound, but he was alone in the stone room.

Sam, you have to go back.

He recognized the voice, but couldn't see anything other than the walls around him.

Listen to me. You have to go back to your brother.

Dean jerked awake when he heard his brother cry out. Sam was struggling with the wires and tubes attached to him, but Dean grabbed his hands and held him down.

"Calm down, Sam. You're okay."

Sam continued to struggle. "Sammy, it's me. Can you hear me?"

He suddenly relaxed and lay back, searching his brother's face. "Dean? Where are we?"

"The hospital."

"What?" Sam looked around the room frantically. "No –"

Dean loosened his grip on Sam's hands, but maintained physical contact as he sat on the edge of the bed. He glanced toward the door when a nurse walked in.

"It's nice to see you awake." the young redhead smiled.

She glanced at the monitors and made notes in Sam's chart before asking him a few questions. A moment later she put the chart in the holder on the foot of his bed. "The doctor will be in to see you soon."

Sam looked to his brother. "Dean…"

"It's okay, Sammy."

"No, you don't understand. I wasn't in the hospital a second ago – I was in a stone room. It was cold, the walls were wet –"

"Sam, you've been here for hours."

"No! At first I couldn't see anything, but then the room got lighter and –"

"And what, Sammy?" Dean asked gently.

Sam looked at his brother with tears in his eyes. "Dad was there. He told me to come back."

"That had to be a dream."

"It didn't feel like a dream," Sam said, sounding very tired.

Dean patted his shoulder as Dr. Sharp walked into the room. After a moment of pleasantries, she asked Dean to wait outside. He didn't want to leave his brother alone and, judging by the look in Sam's eyes, he didn't want Dean to go. But Dean smiled encouragingly and patted Sam's shoulder again as he stood up.

"I'll be right outside," he promised.

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Dean paced in the hallway. It was nearly seven in the morning and he knew the nurses' shift change would be happening soon. There would be a lot of activity and Dean fully expected not to be allowed back into Sam's room until visiting hours started.

He thought about what Sam said; that he'd been in a room with their father. Dean knew that nothing was impossible, but that had to have been a dream. Their father was dead and even if Sam's unconsciousness wasn't caused by something physical, he wouldn't have been in the same place as their father. Would he?

Dean leaned against the wall and rubbed his face. He suddenly felt very tired.

"Mr. Kilmister?"

Dean looked at the doctor as she came out of Sam's room.

"Your brother is a little disoriented, but that's not unusual. He also seems a little agitated, but again, not unusual, considering he woke up in a hospital. He's asking for you, but I'd like you to give us a little while to run some more tests – besides, you look like you could use some coffee and breakfast. Why don't you come back in a couple hours?"

"What kind of tests?"

"A CAT scan, MRI, some more blood work. I want to rule out any of the obvious causes for his losing consciousness."

"How long do you think he'll have to stay here?"

"Assuming nothing shows up on the tests, I can't see why he should have to stay more than a day. But since this has happened before, I would strongly recommend your brother see a specialist, perhaps a neurologist, to get to the root of the problem."

Dean only nodded.

Dr. Sharp smiled encouragingly at him. "Get some food and some rest. Your brother will be back in his room in a couple of hours."

"Can I at least tell him I'm leaving?"

Dean thought he saw something pass over the doctor's face, but her smile remained. "Of course. But please stay for just a moment."

"Dean," Sam began when he saw his brother come through the door. "You have to get me out of here."

Dean didn't like the frantic tone to Sam's voice.

"The doctor wants to run some more tests –"

"No! I don't want to have any tests!" Sam started to pull the IV tube out of his arm, but Dean got to him before he could.

"Sam, don't. Just go through the tests –"

"I'm fine!"

Dean sighed. "You're not fine. You've passed out more than once in the last few weeks and I couldn't revive you this time. I want to see if the doctor can find out why –"

"Dad's been calling me; that's why."

"What?"

"I told you I was with Dad –"

"Sam –"

"Listen to me!" Sam grabbed Dean's shirt. "Please!"

Dean held his brother's wrist. "Sam, I am listening to you. We need to find out if there's a physical cause to this –"

"Dean." Sam's insistent voice and his wide, pleading eyes tore at Dean's heart. If he could have, he would have taken Sam from the hospital in that moment and gone where ever he wanted to go. But Sam was hooked up to machines, Dean didn't know where his clothes were, and a nurse walked in to prep him for the tests.

"Please." Sam whispered.

Dean gave the nurse a look and leaned closer to Sam. "Let them do the tests. I'll be back in a couple of hours – chances are you'll be out of here tomorrow."

Sam looked at him, pleadingly, for another moment and then nodded.

TBC