Dean lay in the hospital bed, bored out of his mind, flipping channels on the small TV set in front of him. Oh how he hated daytime TV, there was nothing good on. What was making him even madder was that the batteries in his remote thingy were dying. He'd tried calling the nurses station about it, but it took forever to get someone to come to his room. He kept changing the channel, trying desperately to find something to take his mind off of the fact that he was going to die.
click click click
"Oh no, not another soap opera. Wait, I can't even understand this one. Aw, but Spanish soap operas are usually funny. Why the hell can't I get the captions to work on this thing?" Dean whined at the TV. Wait, why am I talking to myself? He thought.
click click click
"Aw, not country music videos. NO! No, why did this thing have to stop working now? Dammit!" He said, throwing the remote down to the end of the bed. He lay back against the pillows, slightly exhausted from his ranting. He listened to the music coming from the TV as it changed songs. He recognized this one a little, so he opened his eyes and watched.
He said I was in my early 40's
With a lot of life before me
When a moment came that stopped me on a dime
I spent most of the next days
Lookin' at the x-rays
Talkin' 'bout the options and talkin' 'bout sweet time
I asked him when it sank in
If this might really be the real end
How's it hit ya when you get that kinda news?
Man what'd ya do?
I went sky diving, I went rocky mountain climbing
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named blue Manchu
And I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denying
And he said someday, I hope you get the chance to live like you were dyin'.
Dean's eyes started to water at just these few words of the song. He was dying; it hit him like a ton of bricks for the first time. He was going to die and he hadn't done half the stuff he wanted to. All he'd ever done was be a good little soldier and follow his father's orders. He'd wanted a normal life too, but he was too afraid to go out and get it. He had wanted to meet a wonderful woman and get married, have kids and live like he didn't come from a seriously screwed up upbringing. He'd never have the chance for that now. His death was imminent, he could feel it. Sure he believed in Sam, but he didn't want his last days on this earth to be spent trying to find a way to fix the unfixable.
Dean started to cry. He couldn't hold it in anymore; there was no one around that he had to be strong for. Sam had left to find him some miracle a few hours earlier. He sat in his hospital bed and cried until he thought he couldn't cry another tear. Then he reached over and picked up the phone that was in his room. He dialed his father's cell number. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he had to tell his father himself that he was dying. The usual voicemail message sounded through the phone and the beep that preceded leaving a message.
"Hey, dad, it's me Dean. I'm just calling cuz…..well, I'm…I'm sick. Electrocuted during a hunt, the doctors say I only have a few weeks left, if that. I can feel it too, I know I'm gonna die. I just wanted to say that, I forgive you. I forgive you for not giving Sam and me a normal life; I forgive you for throwing Sam out after he got accepted to Stanford. And I forgive you for abandoning me and pushing me and Sam away. Anyways, I felt that I had to tell you that before I, well, ya know. Goodbye dad."
Dean hung up and placed the phone on the bedside table. He sighed as he leaned back against the pillows again. Well, he thought, at least I can do one thing from the song. He left the TV on as he fell asleep. He found that he really didn't mind country music all that much.
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