Overdosed... Really?!
Based off of Season 11, Episode 17: Red Meat. If you haven't seen that far, stop reading now, as there are spoilers galore in this one-shot. I did some research on the side effects of a drug overdose, that doesn't kill you, and found that it was the perfect fuel for a one-shot. Lol. So according to my research, when a person survives a drug overdose, they end up very ill as they basically swallowed poison. So here is what i think should have happened to Dean, after he selflessly committed suicide to try to talk Billy the Reaper into saving poor Sammy, who wasn't actually dead. Thank God for the doctor that gave him a shot of adrenaline to start up his heart again!
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Dean climbed into the impala with Sam, inwardly relieved that his not-so-little little brother was okay. He went to buckle up, hissing in discomfort at the cramping coursing through his stomach and intestines.
"Dean?" Sam asked, twisting slowly to face him, grimacing as he pulled at his stitches slightly.
"I'm okay," Dean panted quickly, breathing hard through the discomfort.
Sam nodded slowly, putting his hand over his stitched side, as he turned back to face the road.
Dean clenched his jaw, driving down the road. He could feel his stomach rolling aggressively, so he looked for a motel. He knew they both could use the break and rest.
He pulled into the parking lot of a small motel, climbing gingerly out of the impala. He could feel the tenderness in and above his heart, from the adrenaline shot that had stopped the reaper from taking him.
He walked into the office to pay for a room for them, trying fervently to appear fine.
"Sir, are you alright?" the hotel clerk asked in concern. It was very evident that Dean was not well: pale, shaky, and looking to be in pain.
Dean looked up too quickly, causing him to sway slightly.
I'm fine," he said quickly, in a strained voice.
"Here are your keys. Please let us know if you need anything at all." the clerk said, with a polite smile.
Dean nodded briefly, snagging the keys jerkily and offered a weak smile, before stumbling outside. He leaned against the wall outside the office, breathing hard as he fought his body's want to collapse.
Sam climbed out of the impala, with a low groan. He looked up to see Dean, was deathly pale and shaking uncontrollably. He moved, as quickly as his stitched side would allow, to his brother's side.
"Whoa, easy there, Dean." he said, wrapping his brother's arm over his own shoulders. He placed one arm around Dean, the other to apply light pressure on his stitched side.
He slowly guided Dean to their room, snagging the keys from his big brother's limp hand. He quickly unlocked the door, leaning Dean against the wall carefully.
Dean closed his eyes tightly, gagging up some of the pedialyte from earlier, with no control.
"Crap," he groaned weakly, trying to figure out why he hadn't felt that coming up.
"Easy, easy. When did you start feeling sick?" Sam asked, in concern. He had no clue, that Dean had overdosed at the hospital to try to save him.
"About three hours ago, right before you called me." Dean explained weakly, trying to hide the lengths he went to, in order to try to save Sam.
Sam nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully. He slipped into their room, grabbed a trash bin, and moved back outside with a slight hiss and wince.
"Here, hold this, just in case." he instructed, guiding Dean inside and towards the bathroom.
Dean detoured weakly, not wanting to go in the bathroom.
"No, sleep." he groaned, staggering towards the bed, his vision swimming erratically.
Sam nodded, guiding Dean to his bed.
Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, groaning as pain radiated through him. He doubled over, trying to stop whatever was going on inside his body.
"Dean? Did you get hurt earlier?" Sam asked, grabbing the bin and putting it below his brother's head.
"No..." Dean slurred, gagging up more pedialyte into the bucket.
"Why are you sick then?" Sam asked, in confusion, wracking his brain to try to figure out what had happened to Dean.
Dean didn't answer, groaning painfully as he tried to look up at Sam. He wanted to tell him everything: how he thought his brother had been killed, how he thought he was going to be left alone after everything that had happened, how he had offered and pleaded with the Reaper to take him instead, but he couldn't bring himself to disappoint Sam, not again. He gasped, projectile vomiting pedialyte and partially broken down pills, onto the ground beside the bucket.
Sam's eyes widened, taking in the various looking pills on the ground.
"What the hell?!" he demanded, glaring at Dean suspiciously.
Dean wiped his mouth, trying to move slowly and not get sick again.
"I thought you died..." he rasped softly, not looking at Sam.
"So you killed, or tried to kill, yourself?! What about the job? What about protecting people?" Sam demanded angrily, not understanding why his brother would do something so stupid.
"Had to..." Dean started to explain, before throwing up down the front of himself.
"I don't want to hear it." Sam snapped, standing up and leaving the motel room. He slammed the door behind him, livid with his older brother.
Dean watched Sam leave, feeling defeated and lost. He slowly tried to stand up, slipping on his own vomit, and landed on the floor. As he landed, the side of his head, caught the corner of the bed-frame, knocking him out cold.
Sam walked back into the room, about three hours after he left. He looked around swiftly, resisting the urge to scoff when he saw his brother's crumpled form on the floor.
He inched closer, wrinkling his nose at the sour smell of sickness. He moved beside Dean, frowning when the older man didn't react in anyway.
"Dean?" he asked softly, putting his hand gingerly on Dean's shoulder, frowning deeper as he felt an intense amount of heat radiating from his older brother.
He stood up as quickly as he could, moving to the bathroom and filled the tub with lukewarm water. He walked back into the room, grabbed a tube of superglue from the first aid kit, and applied it all over his stitched side. As soon as the glue dried, he clenched his jaw and started dragging Dean into the bathroom.
He wrinkled his nose, gagging softly at the smell, as he stripped his brother down to his boxers. He lifted Dean with a loud groan, sliding him into the tub.
Dean jumped in surprise, blinking in shock as his teeth started chattering loudly.
"When did you get back?" he slurred, pedialyte and pills poured from his lips with no control. He sputtered, choking on his own vomit, as it continued to pour from his lips.
"Easy... easy... We'll talk after you stop puking." Sam said firmly, grabbing a washcloth to wipe away the blood on his brother's head from the fall.
Dean winced, as the fall came back into memory, causing him to shudder violently. He projectile vomited, repeatedly, as blood started coming up too.
"Relax, its okay." Sam said gently, knowing the blood was a side-effect of the multitude of pills he had ingested.
Dean panted softly, suddenly clutching at his chest, as the remnants of the adrenaline shot caused his heart rate to increase. He cried out softly, doubling over weakly, as he tried to apply pressure to the shot site.
Sam jumped up, grabbing a knife and ran back to the bathroom. He leaned Dean back, offering him a look of sympathy as he plunged the blood into a swollen lump on his brother's chest.
No sooner did the lump drain, that Dean stopped whimpering weakly.
"What did you do?" he ground out weakly, looking down at the bleeding spot on his chest.
Sam sighed softly, grabbing some toilet paper and applying it to the cut firmly.
"The adrenaline that was administered to get your heart going again, was built up and causing your heart to overwork. You are okay now, it has drained the remnants from the injection site." he explained, relieved to see that Dean was no longer in pain.
"Oh... is that all?" Dean asked sarcastically, smiling dryly at his brother.
Sam rolled his eyes in response, gently helping his brother stand up to rinse off.
Dean whimpered softly, relieved to not be throwing up anymore. At least for the time being.
"Do you want to sleep in here?" Sam asked gently, helping Dean dry off and sit on top of the toilet.
"Here, I don't want to risk throwing up everywhere... again." Dean said softly, looking at the ground in shame.
"No problem, I'll stay in here to help you." Sam said, walking into the bedroom for their pillows and blankets. He walked back in, set up the bedding, and looked up at Dean thoughtfully.
"Thanks Sammy." Dean said with a yawn, still not looking at his brother.
Sam sighed softly, wrapping his arms tightly around Dean. He pulled him down to the ground gently, making sure he was comfortable, before sitting back beside him.
"I'm always happy to help you, Dean. Even if you like being an idjit." Sam said softly, a sad smile crossing his lips as he thought of Bobby.
"I was trying to save... I committed suicide to talk to Billy, the reaper... Tried to bargain for your life... Offered mine instead... She said you weren't even dead... That our time is coming..." Dean said incoherently, dozing off and waking up repeatedly.
"I'm so sorry, I should have let you explain." Sam said in shock, feeling so guilty for not trusting that Dean had a good reason for trying to kill himself.
"I's okay... I knew you learn the truth..." Dean mumbled softly. He squinted at Sam, pulling his brother into a sleepy hug.
"Get some sleep, I'm not going anywhere." Sam promised adamantly, laughing softly. He lay down beside Dean, keeping a close eye on his big brother for the rest of the night. He finally dozed off, knowing he'd wake up if his brother did.
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Both boys slept through the night and most of the next day, before getting up and moving into the bedroom. They cleaned up the mess together, before heading on their merry way... well not so merry... But at least, there weren't anymore secrets... For now...
Lol. I hope you enjoyed this little story, I highly doubt adrenaline shots cause problems like Dean experienced, but what the heck?! It's my imagination, and I needed to make the story different that my normal stuff.
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