-Prolog-
Sam and I were standing next to Bobby's hospital bed, he was still unconscious and ready for surgery. The beeping of the heart monitor was the only thing that could be heard from the silence that was in the room. No one had spoken, not a word.
"Sorry. We need to get moving." The medic said as they walked in.
"Right. Yeah." Sam stumbled to say; then taking Bobby's hand, "Hey, Bobby, um. Just… Thanks. For everything." I just stood there. There were too many things that I could say, but there wasn't enough time.
"All right? Please step back."
"Yeah." Sam let go of Bobby's hand and started to walk off, but Bobby brushed his hand on Sam's. "Wait, wait, wait, stop. His eyes are open."
"Bobby?" I asked hopefully.
"Hey." Sam said. Bobby starts gasping, removing the oxygen mask, trying to speak. Sam grabs Bobby's hand.
"Don't talk. Don't talk. A pen. I-" I told him, looking for a pen for Bobby. There was one on the bed, "Here, here, here. What is it?"
Bobby takes the pen and rights five numbers onto Sam's hand; gasping, he said quietly, "Idjits." A smile twitched on my face for a millisecond. But Bobby's machine went flat.
I asked, kind of scared, "Bobby? Hey!"
"Call a code, trauma room." The nurse yelled to the doctors. Sam and I were being pushed into the hallway as the doctors came in.
Finally, I was shoved aside by one of the doctors as I watched all of the activity in the room. I was scared, but I couldn't let it show. Never let it show. I just have to stand there, let my face show no emotion. Don't cry. Always have to be strong, for Sam.
Dean was sitting silently by the window in his and Sam's motel room, staring off into the world. He wouldn't look at Sam or I. He wouldn't eat or drink much. I don't know why. Is it my fault? Was I the cause? I need to speak to Gabriel for advice.