Chapter 4
Omg! Only like two episodes left til season 7 is over and I hope to the almighty god that they make a season 8 or I'll be very, very unhappy, wouldn't you? Anyways, this time I'm replying to people's reviews :)
CeCe Away: Yeah I feel so bad that Dean has to make that call lol, but it is his fault right?
Brynerose: I squeaked too when I saw ur comment haha. I too have a very weak spot for Sam and I've only been watching SPN for 2 months now haha! And don't worry haha, Sam's definitely not outta the woods. ;)
Judyann: Thanks for loving it! That makes me happy! :)
Now…ON WITH THE STORY! :) Enjoy!
"This is John Winchester. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean at 866-907-3235."
*Beep*
"Dad? It's me, Dean. God I really screwed up this time dad and I have no idea what to do. Please if you get this, we're at Methodist Richardson Medical Center in Texas. Sam died, dad…twice and it's my fault. He's okay now but, the-the doctor doesn't know how long he'll survive. Dad we need you, Sam needs you…I need you. I can't deal with this alone; I don't know if I can handle losing another family member and I know you can't either. So please, if you can get here immediately…"
Dean trailed off sniffing as he snapped the phone shut and wiped his misty eyes with the back of his hand. He looked up into the sky and took a deep breath, trying not to cry. After a couple minutes of composing himself, he checked his watch and saw that he had at least twenty minutes before he could go see Sam again. He was getting very agitated, though, and worried; what if something bad happened and he wasn't there? What if Sam died again and he stayed that way…for good. It was a miracle his brother had survived earlier, but he wasn't sure if Sam's body could take another beating.
Maybe coffee could calm his nerves…who was he kidding? Nothing, but knowing that Sam was going to make it, would call his nerves, not even a beer. Even so, he was exhausted and knew he was no good to his brother if he passed out. Dean wiped his mouth as he trudged back into the hospital and up to the cafeteria. The next twenty minutes were going to go by agonizingly slow and Dean was not a patient person. He paced the waiting room nervously, wondering why the clock was moving so slowly. Maybe it purposely wanted him to lose his mind, rip the damn thing off the wall, and smash it into a million pieces. Maybe it-
"Mr. Bravo?"
Dean's head shot up, his heart skipping a beat. He found himself looking at the familiar nurse who, earlier, had told him to leave for the hour.
"You can go back and sit with your brother if you'd like."
Dean's spirit's lifted a little once he heard this, and he was eager to go and not waste precious time. He removed his trembling hands from his pockets and briskly walked down the hall back to his brother's room.
~+SPN+~
Somewhere in Phoenix, Arizona
John came back to his truck after a long night of tracking the demon's trail. He was getting closer and it was only a matter of time before- *ding!* John flinched a little, but realizing it was just his phone indicating a new voicemail. Probably from his son; god, he wished he could answer his calls, but he couldn't. He also, sort of, wished that they didn't part after killing Meg, but like Dean said, he was vulnerable when he was with the two. He flipped open his cell and pressed the listen button.
"Dad? It's me, Dean."
"Figures," Thought John, inwardly rolling his eyes.
"God I really screwed up this time dad and I have no idea what to do."
"What is he talking about?" he thought as his heart beat hard against his chest in immediate concern.
"Please if you get this, we're in Methodist Richardson Medical Center in Texas. Sam died, dad…"
John's breathing hitched. "Son of a bitch!" He longed for Dean to burst out laughing, and for it all to be some sick, twisted joke. Yeah he'd be infuriated, but at least it wouldn't be true. He hastily jumped into his car and started the engine, tearing out of the dirt shoulder.
"…twice…"
Fuck! Twice? What the hell did they get themselves into?
"…and it's my fault."
What the hell did you do Dean?
"He's okay now…"
Thank god.
"…but, the-the doctor doesn't know how long he'll survive."
Like hell he'll die, not if I have any say in it.
"Dad we need you, Sam needs you…I need you."
I'm coming, Dean, don't worry. Sam. Will. Not. Die.
"I can't deal with this alone; I don't know if I can handle losing another family member and I know you can't either."
"…"
"So please, if you can get here immediately…"
He heard Dean sigh and then hang up. What the hell was going on with their life? When he caught the evil Sonofabitch that did this to his Sammy, he blast it like there was no tomorrow. He slammed on the gas, bound for Richardson, Texas for his boys.
~+SPN+~
He didn't know why, but he kept his hopes up and prayed that Sam would be awake and lucid. He really needed to see that his brother was okay and most of all, he really needed to apologize; his heart was laden with guilt. But once he stopped in front of the glass windows, his heart sunk; Sam looked exactly as he had an hour ago.
Damn it Sammy, wake up already! Get your lazy ass out of bed!
Once again, he sat down and grabbed Sam's hand.
"You really have to wake up, man. What the hell is going on inside your big college-boy head, huh? Maybe you should be a little smarter and open your eyes before your big brother kicks your ass."
Nothing.
"You'll be glad to hear that the stupid breathing tube will come out soon. Once you pass the "test" here, they're gonna move you to a different room and then I can stay with you longer."
Silence.
"You should see your nurse, she's H-O-T: hot! Boy, I'd hit that, but she cares more about you then me, lucky you, right?"
…
"Dude, come on!"
*Knock, Knock*
Dean looked up, startled, and saw Sam's nurse. He knew that look on her face. Damn.
He turned back to his motionless brother and sighed. "Well, you lost your chance to see my awesome face for another hour. I'll be back soon, okay?"
Nothing…as he expected.
He got up from the chair and solemnly left the room. He wondered though: did dad get his message?
~+SPN+~
As much as he wanted to keep seeing his brother, he thought it was pointless to just go in and out for twenty-four hours. So he decided to make use of his time and go back to the motel to grab their stuff.
After the taxi had dropped him off in front of his motel room, Dean stood quietly in the doorway, looking at the scene before him. The stench of cinnamon- that fucking cinnamon- and puke, filled the air, making his nose scrunch in disgust. The said cinnamon was sitting innocently on the table while the spoon lay on the floor. He sighed and decided to get in and out of the room as quick as possible. He didn't need a reminder of what happened.
In five minutes, he packed his and Sam's stuff and loaded it into the Impala. He decided he'd just drive around, get something to eat, and think for a while until he was able to be back at the hospital full-time. Surprisingly, the time flew by.
"I guess time flies when you're having fun," Dean thought sarcastically.
He drove back to the hospital and walked up to Sam's room, just in time to see a couple nurses and Dr. Mackey wheeling a still unconscious Sam out of the room.
"Ah, Dean, there you are," said the doctor. "Just in time, your brother has made it past the first twenty-four hours, and I must say it's an enigma. But, I'm not complaining and I'm sure you aren't either. Your brother has a better chance of surviving, plus the breathing tube was able to be removed since he's strong enough to breathe on his own. If you'll follow us, we're gonna get Sam settled into his new room."
Dean gulped and bobbed his head; finally things were going right with the world…just hopefully it stayed that way. The group went down the elevator, long hallways, and sharp corners before entering Sam's new room. Dean, much to his discretion, was forced to wait out in the hallway while they got his brother comfortable.
After about, what seemed like hours, the nurses left and Dr. Mackey emerged.
"You're brother, though still unconscious, is improving little by little, but there are some early signs of pneumonia developing. We have him on antibiotics now and hopefully it will reduce his currently high risk fever and other infections that could pop up. His breathing will sound a bit rough for a while, but that's to be expected. If he wakes up, do not stress him out. You can go in now, if you'd like, but if anything happens, press the call button immediately."
Dean agreed as he quickly stepped into the room. At last he could stay with Sam as long as he wanted. He sat heavily in the chair and rubbed his face in exhaustion. He stared at his brother for a moment before smiling sadly and ruffling the kid's floppy hair that was already all over the place. He scooted closer and placed his hand on Sam's; he interlocked his fingers with Sam's curled ones and gently squeezed.
"You gotta wake up, buddy. I-I called dad and, um…well I don't know if he'll come or not, but…oh god what have I done?" Dean sighed and shook his head. But five minutes later found him passed out uncomfortably in the chair, snoring away. Little did he know his dad had listened to his voicemail and was now only a mile away from the hospital.
~+SPN+~
"Dean, wake up."
He felt someone shaking his shoulder violently and he figured it was a nurse- probably some strict, ugly, muscular, deep voiced one named Greta. Why couldn't they just leave him the hell alone?
"Son of a bitch, Dean, wake the hell up!"
Wait, he knew that voice; it sounded like…shit.
Dean blinked his eyes open, only to meet his dad's bearded face…his dad's angry bearded face.
"Dad!" He said in surprise, jumping out of the chair; this was something he'd never expected would happen.
"What the hell is this?" He growled gesturing to Sam.
"Dad I can explain, I-"
"Why is he even here in the first place? What happened?"
Dean hesitated, feeling like a five year old being scolded for stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.
"Well?"
"I-I made him do the Cinnamon Challenge. It was just a stupid dare, it wasn't supposed to be dangerous, but then it stopped him from breathing and then I found out he was allergic to it, then-"
John looked like he was about to blow a gasket. "You're telling me that this had absolutely nothing to do with hunting? It wasn't a Wendigo or a Shritga or anything else supernatural for that matter?"
"Yessir."
"God damn it, Dean, what the hell were you thinking?"
"I didn't think-"
"Obviously you didn't, then. Dean, what the hell was going through your brain-" John pointed vigorously to his head-"when you forced your brother to do such a dangerous and foolish thing? It's bad enough that you two could die every time you hunt something, but this? This was just careless, this was childish, Dean!"
"Dad keep it down," Dean hissed, worried that his brother might hear them; but his dad kept on going.
"I swear, Dean, I thought you knew better than this; I thought you were smarter than this. Obviously I can't trust you like I used to be able to do."
That made Dean snap. He already felt bad enough, he didn't need his dad bringing him down. "I didn't know, dad, okay? I didn't fucking know and I'm sorry! We were just trying to entertain ourselves."
"You mean you wanted to entertain yourself. You just wanted to use your brother for a comic relief, but you didn't think ahead of the consequences."
"For the last time I didn't know! We were just trying to have fun!"
"And look where that got your brother."
"Son of a bitch, dad I-"
"D'n?"
Both men stopped their bickering and turned to the bed behind them. Dean rushed over to his brother's side and rubbed Sam's forehead while John went to the other side. He winced and inhaled sharply when it felt like he was touching a furnace. Sam's flushed face was covered in sweat and lined with pain. The infection was really kicking in.
"Sammy? Can you hear me, kid?"
Sam groaned weakly, the sound coming out scratchy and dry. "D-Dean?"
"I'm right here, man, its okay. Just open your eyes for me, okay?"
Sam's eyes flickered sluggishly open, revealing unfocused and fever-ridden eyes.
"D'n?"
"Hey, sleepy-head, how're you doing?" Dean smiled.
"D-don' feel s'good," Sam slurred.
"I know, kiddo, I know."
Sam grunted in discomfort and squeezed his eyes shut. His chest hurt like hell, his throat was burning, his breathing felt constricted, and he felt like he was in an oven. Dean knit his brows together in sighed heavily. He felt extremely bad for his little brother. Sam reopened his eyes and looked up at Dean; it was the only thing that would keep him conscious at the moment.
"W-where am I?"
"The hospital," Dean whispered.
"Why?"
Dean gulped nervously.
"Because your brother is a careless jerk and only cares about his satisfaction," grunted John.
Dean ground his teeth together, trying not to burst out in front of Sam and stress him out…but it was difficult. Sam frowned and turned his head feebly to the other voice.
"Dad? W-What are you doing here?"
"Setting your brother straight; it seems that he put you here?"
"W-What do you mean?" Sam said.
Dean anxiously looked at the heart monitor, seeing that Sam's heart rate was escalating.
"Dad, we can talk about this later, but Sam-"
"Why can't you be responsible, Dean? When I told you to look after your brother, when I told you to let nothing happen to him, you do something that made us nearly lose him…for good. Just do your job and nothing else!"
"Dad, shut up! I know what I did; you don't have to keep reminding me about it!" Dean said angrily, walking up to his dad. He normally wouldn't do this, but this was about Sam.
"Do you know how much this is delaying us from finding that demon? I was getting close and now because of this, I may have lost its trail."
"Guys," Sam croaked, breathing rapidly. It looked like they forgot he was even there. Now he was in Dean's position; usually him and his dad were fighting and forgetting about Dean, but now the roles were switched.
"Would you stop thinking about the fucking demon for a second? God, your son is sick and maybe dying and all you can think about is the fucking demon! Right now, I could care less about killing it, in fact, I hope we never find it if we lose Sam. I couldn't give a damn about it."
"Dean," Sam's chest was heaving. He couldn't breathe for some reason and he couldn't get his brother's or his dad's attention.
"I don't care very much for your tone these days, Dean. Don't you dare say that! You know how much we've worked for this; your brother wants it dead just as much as I do!"
"Dad." He felt weird and cold. Something wasn't right.
"Oh, so now you're deciding what he wants? You know what? I'm glad he went to college, so he wouldn't have to listen to your damn orders all day. The kid was finally sticking up for himself. In fact, maybe I shoulda done the same thing!"
"Why you ungrateful Sonofabitch! You-" John was cut off when the alarms from the machines started blaring. The two older men looked down at Sam and gasped.
"Sam! Sammy?" Dean exclaimed as he pressed the call button. Sam's eyes were rolling to the back of his head and his body started convulsing on the bed.
"Nononono, damn it dad, now look what you did!" Dean grabbed Sam's bouncing hand with one hand and placed his other on his brother's forehead. He was only there for a couple seconds until some nurses and a very unhappy looking doctor came into the room and pushed him and his dad out. The two watched from the glass window as they tried to get Sam stable. They had been so caught up in ripping each other's heads off that they completely forgot about Sam. They completely forgot that his heart and his body were weak and couldn't take too much stress. Now look what was happening. This day was just getting worse and worse, and he was screwing up a lot more than he'd ever done in his entire life.
TBC
God damn it John how could you have done this? Will Sam live? I don't know…who am I kidding I should know, I'm writing it! And of course he'll live lol it's me we're talking about, I could never kill off Sammy. Stay tuned and don't forget the comments!
