Lightkeeper /Destiel//Sabriel//Michifer

Grasping At Thin Air

"What?" All three Winchesters asked in unison, alarm bells sounding within their heads.

"John ain't in prison no more," Benny repeated, feeling awful for having to be the bearer of bad news. Though, in this case, 'bad' was most definitely an understatement.

"Don't tell me they let him out on good behaviour," Dean growled through gritted teeth. He was already feeling sick.

"Let him out? God, no. They did all they could to keep him in."

"Then how—?" Sam was already dreading the answer.

"Man like that, got plenty of contacts on the outside. He broke out 'bout two days ago. Had some help, they reckon, but don't know who from."

"I would have thought we'd have heard about it sooner..." Elsa trailed off, at a loss for further words.

"You would have: it was on local news, only you ain't local no more," Benny explained patiently.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam looked over at his brother worriedly, the concern in his voice capturing the attention of the others.

Dean was hunched over, his head resting in his hands, and looked as though he was struggling to breathe. He didn't respond.

"Dean?" Sam sounded more urgent now, watching as Elsa slid off the sofa and crouched down next to their brother, trying to get a clear view of his face.

He looked very pale, and was breathing irregularly: each breath shorter and quicker than the last.  Hurriedly, he moved his hands away from his face and tried to stand up. It was a bad move. He fell down almost instantly, Sam catching his arm and easing him back into the sofa.

"Sammy," Dean chocked, "I... c-can't... I can't breathe."

Sam put a hand on Dean's back, forcing him to sit up straight, and instructed him to taking deep lungfuls of air. Dean attempted this several times over, but each failed attempt brought new waves of pain to his chest.  It was suffocating.

Elsa swore, pushed herself up from the floor, and darted into the kitchen.  For a moment, all that could be heard was a cupboard door flying open, and the rip of a plastic lid being torn from its box.  And then Elsa was back in the living room, shoving an old inhaler into Dean's palm and closing his fingers tightly around it.

In truth, she had no idea whether it would work.

Dean glanced down at the thing in his hand and — he'd seen enough movies, how hard could it be? — shook it as vigorously as possible, stuffed the end into his mouth and inhaled.  The breath came off short.  His lungs were crushingly empty.  He still couldn't breathe. 

Fuck fuck fuck.

He shook the inhaler again, tears stinging the corners of his eyes, and took another short puff.  This time, a small wisp of air managed to seep into his lungs.  He closed his eyes and repeated the process.  And again.  And again.  Until, finally, he managed to bring breathing back down to a passably normal rate.

For a while, he just sat silently.  His chest was incredibly painful and the wet streaks down the side of his face made him itch. He was too exhausted to feel embarrassed.

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder.  "Dean?  I think you should come upstairs, you need to rest."

Dean allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, draping his arm across Sam's shoulder for support, and slowly escorted up the stairs to his room, where he collapsed onto his bed and continued to take deep lungfuls of air.

Sam was almost at the door again when Dean called him back, his voice a hoarse whisper. 

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "What for?"

"For not— for not being—"

The sentence fell away, lost in exhaustion, just as Dean himself became in sleep.

~~

When Sam returned back downstairs, Elsa had Alex's phone out on her lap.

"If you're going to call Bobby, I wouldn't use that phone," Sam advised.  "He won't recognise the number.  I doubt he'd pick up."

"House phone, then?"

He nodded slowly.  "Yeah.  Yeah, I'll get it."

It took several minutes for Sam to come back, having decided to make the call in the hallway, out of earshot of Benny. Though this was entirely unnecessary, seeing as Benny already knew everything that would be said, Sam felt a little relief in being on his own for a short while.

Bobby had picked up the phone on the second ring and, after silently listening to Sam describe the current situation, had announced he was returning home immediately and no one was to leave the house until he was back. He'd then hung up the phone.

When Sam re-entered the living room for the second time, Benny and Elsa were in quiet conversation. They looked up, on hearing Sam come in, and Elsa made room for Sam on the sofa beside her.

"How's Dean?" She inquired.

"Fast asleep. He should be okay for now."

"I've never seen him like that before," Benny commented, surprise and concern evident in his voice.

"Not many people have," Sam assured.  "And he likes it to stay that way."

Benny held up his hands in defence, "I wasn't gonna say anything. Besides, who'd I tell? You three are the only people I know here."

"And what about Bobby?" Elsa asked, looking to ease some of the tension.  "What did he say?"

"He's on his way back and he doesn't want anyone leaving the house until he's here."

"Alright," she nodded, standing up.  "In that case, would anyone like a drink? I think we have hot chocolate in the cupboard."