Author's Note: I'm back! I've been working on this story for awhile...first as a crazy idea, then finally typing it out. I hope to update every Saturday (yay for consistency). The title comes from a song called "No Good Deed" from the musical Wicked. Awesome musical, but definitely not canon :) I hope you all enjoy this!
Chapter One:
Sam blinked groggily. He could make out the faint hum of hospital monitors; a sound he was only too familiar with. Sam let out a groan of frustration. His head was swimming. He experimentally opened his eyes. Sam let out a different kind of groan; one of pain. Everything hurt. What had happened? He racked his brain, but everything was still fuzzy.
From behind the curtain that covered the window, light from the rising sun crept into the sterile room. It left a yellow haze in the sterile room.
Sam looked around his room, his vision finally stabilizing a bit. The walls were a lovely shade of hospital white. A beeping monitor and an IV bag were placed next to his bed in front of the window. On the left side of his rather uncomfortable bed sat a visitors' chair and a little nightstand.
Sam frowned. On the nightstand lay a slip of paper. He reached for it, extending his right arm before realizing that the IV needle was keeping him from reaching that far. Using common sense, Sam reached out with his left arm, only to find his arm in a cast. A pink cast. A pink cast with drawings on it. Not that Sam had anything against the color pink (it had been Jess's favorite color, but that was years ago, a lifetime ago.) but really? And who had drawn... Was that a unicorn? Yes. A unicorn had been drawn ever so carefully in purple sharpie onto his pink cast. Sam sighed, Dean was going to mock him merciless for the next year, at least. The thought made Sam stop. Where was Dean? Was he also in the hospital? Was he even alive... Sam cut his thoughts off. No. Dean was alive, somewhere. He had to be.
Sam pulled himself back to reality and reached out again for the paper on the nightstand.
It was a piece of lined paper with a ruffled edge, as if it had been pulled out of a spiral notebook. The note was folded in half. Scrawled on the outside were the initials 'SW,' slightly smudged, as if rain had fallen on them... Or tears. Sam flipped open the note with some difficulty. Smeared across the top of the paper was a faded strip of blood. Slightly more concerned, he began to read:
"Sam,
Cas is dead. It's all my fault. Your hospital stint is my fault too."
(There were a blood stain smudge the next part of the farewell letter. Sam squinted and managed to make out its contents, unshed tears hiding in his eyes)
"I'm a monster Sammy. I'll come back if I can, but if I don't just don't come looking for me.
Your brother,
Dean"
Sam reread the note no less than three times before cursing and crumpling the note in his pink-casted hand. He let his aching head fall back onto the pillow, shutting his eyes tightly as a tear fell down his stitched-up cheek.
Just what the hell has happened?
AN: I have nothing against the color pink, except that I absolutely hate certain shades... but this is true for a lot of colors. I imagined it as a sort of Umbridge-pink :)
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See you next Saturday!