Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or the characters, and chances are that I never will.
Finally here's the prequel to My Brother's Heart.
Enjoy!
John and Dean Winchester were working on the latest case, a run of the mill haunting in Des Allemands, Louisiana. They had driven to the house, it was an old property just outside the town, in the swamplands.
Not wanting to place his son in undue danger, John had decided that he would distract the spirit, and cover Dean, while he dug up the grave in a far corner of the overgrown garden.
What John didn't know was that for several weeks now, Dean had for no reason had numerous fevers, losing weight, and most recently been getting out of breathe very easily.
It was worrying Dean, but he couldn't let his father down, John was counting on him to help with this job.
Dean struggled through digging, all the while feeling that his chest was about to burst, his heart was pounding against his ribcage, it hurt so badly he was on the verge of passing out.
Dean barely managed to climb out of the hole, it was all he could do not to collapse at the edge of the grave. He forced himself to stand, and pour the waiting can of petrol and a large canister of salt on the rotten corpse, then light a match and threw it in.
As the body caught fire, Dean finally collapsed, in a heap at the edge of the grave, unconscious, barely breathing.
John dropped his shotgun as he saw his son falling to the ground. "DEAN!!!" John ran to his eldest son. Dean was breathing, barely, his lips where tinged blue. John was scared, he had no idea what was happening or why. "Dean?! Son?
Dean didn't respond. John frantically scooped Dean into his arms, he was surprised by how easy it was, Dean must have lost a lot of weight, ignoring it, john rushed Dean to the car, put him in, and drove at break-neck pace to the local hospital.
The local doctors barely had the facilities to treat a broken wrist, and they arranged for Dean to be transferred by helicopter to New Orleans, four hours away by road.
At the hospital John and Dean met many doctors, who sent Dean for an array of tests, before a cardiologist came down to see Dean, he introduced himself as Dr Stiles before sitting down on a hard plastic chair beside Dean's bed.
"Dean, we have your test results back, and the news is not good. You are in congestive heart failure, secondary to bacterial endocarditis, that's an infection of the sac that surrounds your heart."
"What do you do about that?" John asked, trying to remain calm, though he was panicking on the inside.
"I'm going to prescribe you several medications, which hopefully will get you out of failure, once we've done that, we'll work on stabilizing you, and getting you home, while we wait for a transplant."
"A what?!" Dean exclaimed in shock.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Your heart has suffered considerable damage, a transplant is the only way you will survive this."
The doctor went on the explain about medications, therapies.
Dean barely heard a thing past, "a transplant is the only way you will survive".
After the doctor had left, John went for coffee, while Dean stayed in his hospital room, connected to all manner of monitors and IVs.
Dean spent ten minutes playing with his phone, tossing up whether to call Sam or not.
When he did, he was met by a dial tone, followed by Sam's answering message. Maybe Sam had left his phone home, but Dean knew that he hadn't, Sma had ignored his call.
The next morning, John suggested that maybe they should call Sam. Dean practically bit his head off, that was the last time it was spoken of.
They waited on the transplant list for nine months, Dean was forced to sit out every hunt, staying in town in case his pager went off, in case they found him a new heart. It drove him near mad.
The call never came.
John tried to be in town most of the time, but he couldn't ignore the hunt. But luckily he was in town the night that Dean suddenly worsened.
Dean had had a slight cough for a few days now, John was on the verge of calling the cardiologist.
In hindsight, he should've called.
Dean had been coughing all night, and come morning, John had gone in to give him his medications.
Upon entering the room though, John discovered Dean lying on his bed, his breaths so shallow John could barely see his chest moving, his face flushed with fever.
A call to the ambulance service, and fifteen minutes later, two paramedics rushed into the Winchester's apartment. One questioned John, while the other started assessing Dean.
They put a breathing tube down his throat, and connected it to an ambu bag before rushing him to the hospital.
"John. What happened?" Dr Stiles said as he met Dean and John in the ambulance bay. "Take him upstairs guys, there's a bed waiting in the CCU," Dr Stiles instructed the paramedics.
They followed behind the gurney as John and Dr Stiles spoke, "I heard him coughing last night, I went in to wake him up for his meds in the morning, and I couldn't wake him up, he had a high fever, 104.3, I called the ambulance."
"Okay, I've got a bed ready upstairs in the cardiac unit, we'll get him up there, then we'll figure out what's going on."
They did figure out what was going on, Dean was again in congestive heart failure, brought on by severe pneumonia, which most likely developed due to his weakened immune system.
He was kept on the ventilator in the CCU for three weeks, on life support.
John was sure that his eldest son was going to die, any day now.
The End I hope you all enjoyed it, please take a moment to drop me a review