Dean watched as the doctors wheeled in another bed into the ward. Pretending to be asleep, he watched them from just above the covers, positioning the new patient next to his bed. This new patient was a boy, a few years older than he himself was with dirty blonde hair and a kind of serious expression on his face, even when in such a relaxed position. His eyes were closed and he remained unconscious as the officials connected him up to the hospital machines. The cardiac monitor was turned on and the green line spiked when the boy's heart took a beat. The current rhythm was making the doctors and nurses concerned.

It was so slow.

Beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...

Finally, the consultant sighed, rubbing his forehead and announced that all they could do was wait and keep the boy as stable as possible until he awoke. And so they had left him, each of them able to be contacted instantly if something happened. With the consultants gone, Dean sat up in his bed, taking the chance to look curiously over the new boy. Looking closer, he could now see that the boy's face and neck was covered in little cuts and bruises, with a particularly big dressing strapped to his forehead. He looked as if he'd just been pulverised…

Dean stared at the boy a while longer in silence – his apparently battle ravaged state seemed to interest him, probably more than it should have. All the same, he watched the boy with concern, wondering if he'd ever wake up. There was no clue as to who this boy was, but it was still worrying to see…anyone like this. This was precisely what Dean didn't like about hospitals. That chance that someone could go in through the doors in the midst of rush and noise, and never come out again…

When a few more minutes of silent waiting came to nothing, and with his own situation rapidly making him tired, he lay back onto his bed, on his side, and pulled his covers over his shoulder. The last thing he saw was the familiar sight of the boy's bed…

A few hours later, Dean woke up again. Glancing at his clock, he saw that it was midnight – he'd woke up in the middle of the night, a first, even for him. The whole room was dark but for the lights on the machines blinking on and off, and the only noise coming from the same apparatus.

Dean sat up, but slowly – he was still aching a little since his own operation – and reached over to turn on the lamp at the side of his bed. It came on much too bright, and Dean winced as the whole room seemed to fill with painful light. He blinked a few times in an effort to make his eyes adjust to the light faster. When he could finally open his eyes without blinking like an old film reel, the red head's attention turned straight to the newcomer at his side. He couldn't see properly in such low light, but he could swear the boy had gone pale.

Then Dean looked up at the CM.

Beep…Beep…Beep….Beep

It was slower. The boy's heart beat had gotten slower…so where were the doctors? Why weren't they swarming over him like bees around a queen and trying to get the boy back to a much more stable condition? Dean then saw why. There was usually a small white machine on the wall – a little computer that regulated the calls to doctors when required. Now, on the boy's side of the room, there wasn't. Instead there was a small hole in the wall, with a few wires poking out of it, twisted together and pushed away from the bed. Dean wondered if he should call the nurse, just to get her on the case. Then, he was interrupted.

His head turned at a noise that made his heart sink and leap at the same time. A long, high pitched noise that accompanied the long, featureless green line that showed up on the CM.

That was it, he was calling the nurse. He slammed his index finger down on the call button. But only silence accompanied it – usually there was a little buzzing noise that came from the item that showed patients the thing was working. But it didn't come. Dean tried again. And again. He pressed it several more times, before giving up. He threw the little remote like device on his bed and made his way out of bed as quickly as possible, without making his scar hurt. When he reached the next bed on the other side of the room, without waking the old girl within it, he grabbed the box from the side table and pressed the button. Again, nothing happened, and again, Dean tried multiple more times.

This was starting to get scary….it was like someone wanted this kid dead…

He scrambled as best he could to the door and tried to pull it open. It was locked. Dean was starting to get really scared, now.

The next sound made him jump, and turn around. A bust of static came from the monitor, before the screen went totally black, returning the room into a thick, eerie silence. The only light on this side now coming from Dean's lamp – he didn't need any of the similar equipment. Something about the silence made Dean turn around and walk back to his bed to watch the now deceased boy again. The air had taken an edge to it. The hairs on the back of Dean's neck began to stand up and he could help but feel great anticipation, as if something was about to happen...

When it did, it was positively the weirdest thing the young inventor had ever witnessed.

A beam of light appeared from the boy's cheek – very small, and golden in colour, accompanied by a quiet but high pitched noise. Peering over the boy, he found that the light seemed to be coming from under the skin itself, with the base, uneven like a hole in the dry ground. From the hole, cracks appeared, spreading slowly outwards over the boy's face and holding the same, glowing golden light from within. The sounds that came from these cracks sounded like an eggshell being broken, as they continued across his head, branching off like veins to cover the remaining skin, and down his neck to the rest of his body. Only now did Dean notice that the boy was shaking. It was as if he were having a seizure. The cracks glowed from bright gold to white, almost in anticipation.

Suddenly it all stopped, the peace lasting barely a second. Dean saw the boy's eyes and mouth open wide, filled with the same white-gold light before his body moved by itself. His head and arms were thrown back against the bed as his back arched. From each limb, the golden light raged like angry fire, covering all of the boy's exposed body, Dean was thrown back onto his bed by the energy wave, but kept watching this spectacle, his eyes wide with pure shock. Through the golden flames, he could see the boy's eyes and mouth totally submerged in raw, whistling energy as if they were each spewing out white hot lava.

And as suddenly as it had started…it stopped. The golden inferno dissipated, with the high pitched noise finishing with a crack of thunder. For a tiny moment the glowing cracks in the boy's face disappeared, leaving his skin clean – healed even. His body now flopped against the bed, relaxing with his arms dangling at the sides. The room returned to its calm, silent state, with none of the other patients even stirring.

Trembling and breathing heavily, Dean summoned up the courage to get up off his bed. He walked carefully across the room again. The figure who lay there certainly was not the one that had been there a second ago. He was totally different now. He had a pointy nose, thin youthful face and an explosion of long dark hair.

Another nose made Dean jump again, but he suddenly realised that it was something amazing. The boy inhaled….then he exhaled….he did it again…and again. He was breathing. His chest was moving up and down, too.

The boy's eyes opened, backing Dean into a retreat back to his bed once more, as the boy took a moment and brought himself up into a sitting position. He stared at the opposite wall. Then, he blinked a couple of times. His eyes moved, taking in everything within eyesight, before he looked down. He brought his hands up to eye level and he turned them, looking them over and wiggling his now elongated fingers as he gave a small smile. The wiggling fingers moved to his head to touch and feel through his hair. His brow furrowed and his hands moved down to his neck, touching the barely revealed Adam's apple in his throat. The hands moved down to press against his flat chest. Then down to his stomach…and his hips.

And finally, just to make completely sure, he lifted the blankets away and pulled up his much-too-big medical gown and looked down between his legs. A very big smile grew on his face. His hands shot up into the air, leaving the gown to return to his extremities, as he fell back onto the bed, calling out his first words.

"I'M A BOOOOOYYYY!"