Forever Broken.
Inspired by and slightly based on Thomas Kinkade's Christmas Cottage.
Summary: Dean was dying, there was no way around it. The only treatment cost too much. Dean accepted it. So did John. Sam couldn't, he wouldn't. He had to do something. One-Shot.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
AN: Hope you like it! Please read and review!
The room was white, sterile, disinfectant filled the air.
The prone figure of Dean Winchester lay beneath the sheets, skin as white as snow, many different wires and machines surrounding him.
It had been a simple wendigo hunt, in and out, quick.
But somehow, it had jumped Dean and hurt him bad.
His heart was damaged and only one procedure could save his life.
But it cost a little under a thousand dollars which the Winchesters could not afford.
The police were after them, so they couldn't rely on credit scams, and they only had enough cash to afford the basics.
Dean accepted the fact that it was just his time.
John accepted it too, after a while.
Sam couldn't. He wouldn't.
He had to do something!
But what?
That was the question.
As the sun rose behind the trees, streaks of life filtering through the window, Sam entered, eyes immediately falling onto his comatose brother.
They say he had a few weeks at most, hopefully 'til Christmas.
But it wasn't enough.
Not nearly enough.
Sam wasn't going to give up on his brother.
Not yet.
Not ever.
Sighing, Sam kissed his brother's forehead and left.
He needed to get away for a while.
Sam had no destination. He didn't know where he was going, but never the less, he eventually found a park about 10 minutes away from the hospital.
He sat on the bench and sighed again, head in his hands, tears rolling down his face.
Looking up, he found an unpainted mural in front of him.
It was a beautiful drawing, but without any colour, it was incomplete.
The thought of painting brought memories of college to his mind.
His art had been his life, his life with Jess. Before it had all been cruelly taken away from him.
Jess.
Sam sighed, more tears falling down his face. Jess had always said that art was life, beauty, love. Everything that provided joy for someone could be turned into art.
Footsteps neared and a man's voice spoke. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Sam nodded.
"To bad there's no-one to paint it".
"There isn't?" Sam asked in amazement and when the man nodded, Sam smiled. "I can do it"
"You can?" The man asked, a smile crossing his face.
Sam nodded. "I studied art at Stanford university".
The man beamed, pleased with the answer. "Alright. Let's say 1000 dollars if it's done by Christmas Day".
Sam grinned. This was the chance he needed. Paint this mural and he could save his brother.
He shook the mans outstretched hand who smiled and said his thanks before walking away.
The main problem though, was that neither his father, nor brother, knew what he had been studying. Knew about his passion.
Sam shook his head. They'd just have to understand, because Sam had to save Dean.
Happy that he finally had a solution, Sam ran back to the hospital to get his equipment that was currently stuffed at the bottom of his duffel and check on Dean before running back to the park to start on the mural; Dean's hope.
One stroke after another went by, but it lacked enthusiasm.
It wasn't that Sam thought the mural wasn't good, that it lacked soul, it was just that, every day, he saw Dean so still, and it made Sam feel as if it was all for nought.
Not to mention that he didn't even know this town.
It was like painting for a stranger.
Flashback
"Have you ever done a painting you didn't believe in?" Sam's art teacher, Mr Edwards, asked the class.
No-one raised a hand in response.
"Or a painting for someone you barely knew?"
No-one responded.
"My point is, that even if you don't know them personally, you can still paint the light that is inside each and every one of them. Art crosses all boundaries and surpasses all languages. One image can change lives. You can introduce men to their souls. If someone is lacking hope, you can give it to them through art. Art is about beauty, life, love. If you can express any of them through art, then you are a true artist".
End Flashback.
Sam smiled. He remembered that lesson like it was yesterday.
And Jess.
Jess always told him that every picture of his had a meaning.
And if he found the meaning of something, then he could paint it.
Sam grinned. That was it!
He may not know this place or these people, but he could see the happiness, joy, the light that filled this town.
And that's what he would paint!
And the meaning of the mural, to him, was his brother.
Dean was his inspiration.
Dean was what allowed him to paint this mural.
And Dean would be what kept him going to the very end.
Now, Sam knew what he had to do.
He was determined.
He would save his brother.
A week later, Dean was still comatose. Everyone was loosing hope.
Sam, was gaining hope.
The mural was halfway there, and he still had 2 weeks left.
He was re-energised.
Sam had hope.
Everything was going to be ok.
If only he knew what was going to happen next.
One beautiful sunny day that week, Sam gathered up his equipment and was about to leave when his father entered, immediately spotting the satchel on Sam's shoulder.
"What's going on Sam?" John asked, his tone harsh. A million thoughts raced through his mind. The most prominent being the thought that Sam was going to leave them again.
"Dad…I…" Sam stuttered, unable to form words. It had been hard enough to tell his father he wanted to go to college. How was he going to tell him what he studies, how he was going to help Dean.
"What Sam!?" John yelled, knocking the bag to the floor, the art materials spilling everywhere.
Sam bent to gather his belongings before standing and facing his father. "I'm painting a mural"
John let out a chuckle. "A mural?"
Sam sighed. "To help pay for Dean's treatment".
John sighed. "You don't have to try to paint a mural Sammy".
Sam shook his head. "I'm not trying dad, I am!" He sighed. "You never did ask what I went to school for, did you? Art Dad. My passion. This is the way I'm going to help Dean".
John shook his head and sighed. Art and hunting didn't go right.
No son of John Winchester was going to risk his life hunting while he was preoccupied with a nonsensical hobby.
As he saw Sam open the door, his face turned hard and he spoke the words that once again broke his son's heart. "If you leave this room, don't you even think of coming back.
Tears formed in Sam's eyes and he whispered. "I'm sorry" Before leaving.
And as he watched his son go, John broke down, knowing he had just lost one son and was about to loose the other.
For the Winchesters, life sometimes seemed unbearable.
Sam sighed, tears falling down his face as he walked through the park.
How could his father be so cold?
Did he not understand that he was trying to help Dean?
Or did he just not care?
No.
He cared.
But only about hunting.
If Dean died, but he died a hunters death, then that was fine.
But if Sam saved him, but it was by painting the mural, that wasn't fine.
Sam gave a mental growl to his father.
If the man wasn't so self absorbed and actually cared about his sons, then he would understand why Sam was doing what he was doing.
But he didn't
Sighing, he climbed the stepladder and carried on with the mural.
He was going to help Dean, even if their father didn't give a damn.
And then he would go back to school.
Give his life to his art.
A life that he and Jess had started a long while ago.
Another week later, as John watched his son sleeping peacefully, the door opened and a nurse walked in, who began unlatching Dean's bed.
John watched, confused, when Dean's doctor, Dr Aveham, entered.
"Doc?" John spoke, voice wavering slightly. "What's the matter?"
Dr Aveham smiled. "We're gonna get Dean prepped or surgery. If all goes well, he should be fine".
John smiled, but was slightly confused. "But…how?"
Dr Aveham smiled. "Your other son, Sam, dropped off a cheque this morning to pay for the surgery.
Tears began to form behind Sam's eyes. "Sammy"
Dr Aveham placed a comforting hand on John's shoulder and said "Everything will be fine" before leaving with Dean.
But John knew the doc was wrong, in one sense.
Dean would be fine, but their family was broken.
The surgery went fine and Dean woke a few days later. John still hasn't told him about Sam and luckily, Dean had been too out of it to ask; until…
Dean was currently eating his dinner when suddenly he stopped and looked around. "Dad. Where's Sammy?"
John sighed. "I dunno".
"What do you mean?" Dean asked, worry in his voice.
"We had a fight" John said, a small tear falling down his face.
Dean sighed. "Dad".
"I just got angry" John replied. "You were dying and he was determined to paint a mural to pay for the surgery".
Dean laughed. "Sammy? Paint?"
"Apparently, it's what he did at Stanford" John said with a slight sigh. "And it worked. It paid for the surgery".
Dean nodded, slight shock apparent on his face. "Have you seen it?"
"What?"
"The mural"
John shook his head. "I was too busy looking after you"
"Damnit Dad" Dean sighed. "When will you learn that you have 2 sons?"
John sighed. "I know. I've made too many mistakes with Sammy"
Dean sighed. "We need to find him. Need to make things right".
John nodded. "I'll see when you can be released".
Dean nodded. "Ok".
The wind blew through the trees, causing them to rustle as the sun beat down on the small park.
After 5 days and some tests, dean was released and they now stood looking at the mural Sam had painted.
Dean stared at it in awe. "I didn't know Sammy was this good".
"me neither" John said as he looked at the intricate detail that each stroke had created.
After a few minutes, Dean sighed. "Dad. We gotta find him and apologise"
"I know" John stretched his muscles and turned, heading to the car. "Come on. Let's go"
Dean nodded, following his father to the classic Impala.
As he closed the door and put the seatbelt on, Dean said. "We got work to do".
5 months later
Sam sighed as the phone beeped again, momentarily distracting him from his painting.
He didn't need to look who it was.
He knew it was either Dean or John. They'd been trying to find out where he was for the past 6 months.
Dean, he felt bad for.
John, not so much.
But if he told Dean where he was, John would come too.
He couldn't let that happen.
It would only cause him more pain.
He'd already been caused enough pain.
He wouldn't let it happen again.
After a few more strokes, Sam looked at his watch.
Tidying away his art equipment and putting it in his duffel which he then slung over his shoulder, Sam left the apartment.
The corvette cruised down the road to the university, not spotting the black impala that was parked down a side road.
As Sam entered the lesson, he was met by his friend David Thompson.
"Yo Sammy-Boy!" David said, walking up to him. "I'm taking you out tonight man! We'll party, get some girls!"
Sam laughed at his friends enthusiasm. Yes, it was his birthday, but he didn't want to go out, he really wasn't in the mood.
"Man. It's fine. I'm really not in the mood". Sam replied.
David shook his head. "No. We are going out"
Sam laughed and gave in. "Fine. What time".
David smiled. "Lions head at 6?"
Sam nodded. "Alright".
After the lesson, Sam grabbed some lunch from the café before heading back to his apartment.
But as he entered, he felt another presence.
Hunter instincts taking over, he tried to find out who, what, it was.
A hand touched his shoulder and he spun 'round, coming face to face with his older brother.
"Dean" Sam whispered. He really missed his brother and the last time he saw him, Dean was dying in a comatose state.
Seeing him proved that Sam had saved his brother.
"Happy birthday Sammy" Dean said, a wide grin on his face.
Hoy flooded through both brothers, but Sam's suddenly disappeared when he caught eye of his father. All of a sudden, it was replaced with anger.
"Dad" He spat with venom, a cold look on his face.
"Son…I…" John stuttered, unable to form words. What could he say to make it better. What could he say to the son he pushed away twice.
"Don't…just leave" Sam whispered, turning his back on them.
"Sammy…"
"GO!" Sam yelled, whirling around, fire in his eyes.
"Sam…we…" Dean whispered sadly.
"Go. Please. Please, just go" Sam whispered, tears falling down his face.
"We're really sorry Sammy" Dean whispered as they left.
"Sorry isn't good enough" Sam whispered sadly.
It was true; sorry wouldn't fix it this time.
The Winchester family would be, forever broken.
And there is the end! Hope you've all enjoyed my little tale. If you have, you could tell me in a review! Hehe! Lol! Reviews are perfect for lunch!
Thanks for reading!
Holls!
