A/N: A while a go I wrote a story for a comment meme on lj where Dean has asthma. I'm continuing this now. This is set pre-season one when Sam is at Stanford. Title is from a Pink Floyd song. Just a short part to start it off
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, I'm just playing
Breathe (In the Air)
Dean always knew when an attack was coming on so he knew when to get his medication. It always started with a tight chest followed by wheezing before the full on attack started. This usually gave him time to find his inhaler and stop things before they got too bad. It didn't always happen like that though. There were occasions when he lost his inhaler or left it at whichever motel they were staying at that week, or even if he was on a hunt and it was in his jacket which had been left in the car. It was in cases like that when Dean ended up in hospital and he hated it more than anything
He had been asthmatic since he was a small child. He had vague memories of being held by his mother as he struggled to breathe, her soothing words to calm him down until the medication kicked in and he was able to breathe again. After his mother died everything changed. Although his father didn't dismiss his asthma completely, he wasnít as gentle and caring once he was on his own. There were nights when all he wanted was for his father to comfort him during an attack; especially when they were bad, to hold his hand and tell him everything was okay but that never happened.
Once Sam was older he was able to help Dean keep control of things. He always kept a spare inhaler on him in case of emergencies and Dean had forgotten his. Dean would tease him about his Nazi like control of everything related to his asthma but he was grateful to Sam for his help. He certainly did need it at times.
But when Sam left for college, everything once again changed. His father became more reckless in his attempt to find the demon that had killed Mary and could barely look after himself never mind Dean when he was sick. Dean; therefore, became more self reliant in controlling his asthma. There was no-one else to help him otherwise.
There were times when this became hard. It seemed as though his attacks were becoming more and more frequent and worse every time. Several times he had found himself laid up after a hunt because he had difficulty breathing and on many occasions he felt as though his chest was going to explode, it felt so tight. He never told his father though in fear of being thought of as weak and unable to do the job properly. So he pretended that everything was fine and that this asthma didn't really bother him.
That was until he had the worst attack of his life.
John was away on a hunt, leaving Dean in this god forsaken hellhole masquerading as a motel room because he had been feeling under the weather. Actually; under the weather was a bit of an understatement because Dean felt as though he was dying. His chest was constricted and his lungs full of phlegm. It was the worst he had ever felt, just taking a breath made him want to cry in agony. His inhaler had long since been discarded when he discovered it did not have any effect on his aching chest. So he just lay there on the lumpy bed with the foul duvet covering him and he prayed for this to end.
He looked at his phone and stared at Samís number, wanting nothing more than to call him but he knew that would be the wrong decision. Sam was living his own life now, he didn't need his big brother anymore and Dean didn't want to be a burden.
So he just lay there, unable to move anywhere and listened to the sound of his own rattled breathing. He stayed there until it became too much and he let the darkness take over him. He lay there until housekeeping opened the door and found him barely breathing; his skin tinged a deadly shade of grey and his lips blue. He didn't feel the paramedics gently lift him from the bed and place him on the gurney. He didn't realise that he was being taken to the hospital. He was dead to the world and just did not care anymore.