Things had been going well. Dean thought they might actually come out of this on the other side. Stupidly of course. For all his cautious optimism, he knew it would tested when he traveled for work again, and the two-week stint in Italy was going to be the true trial. He would have tried to sneak Don Juan down with him, but there was no way to make it look casual and so the decision had to been to ultimately hold off.

He'd managed to get home a couple of days early, things wrapping up neatly thanks to some agreements they hadn't seen coming. Dean was pleased, a bottle of really nice Italian red wine and some other treats, hoping to surprise Don Juan with a night in.

It was a night in alright, but not what'd he'd been looking for and not what he'd expected. Finding Don Juan incoherent on the floor was one thing, but everything else was overwhelming. Dean hadn't known what to do; so he'd called in reinforcements against his better judgement. Sage was good at her job, quiet, discreet and he knew he could trust her. A mediwitch had to have more experience here than he did (even if he had more than he could ever want). She'd assured him that his friend wasn't dying, but it was going to be a long night; to keep him hydrated and whatever he did, don't give any more, not even a little.

That of course was easier said than done, especially after she left. Dean had moved the armchair in his room next to the bed, head in his hands as Don Juan struggled and pleaded and looked close to death. Dean had destroyed any remaining drugs he could find, so he couldn't have caved even if he wanted to, despite the abuse hurled his way because of it. Time seemed to slip away from him and he had no idea how long he sat there, waiting it out, muttering abuse at himself in French, but eventually the room stilled and at least Don Juan would wake up on the other side of that. The real question was, would they?