-Dying Wish; Chapter Four
Sam finds out the truth on the evening of the seventh day.
It happened in the most unlikely and unexpected way for Bobby; because the imagery of the moment of truth in his mind was quite different than what actually happened. Mostly, Bobby had just hoped and imagined that he would get through to Dean's phone and tell him everything, and then he would come to the hospital and make it in time to fulfil his baby brother's final, dying wish. And then he wouldn't have to reveal the truth anyhow; but if that wasn't what would happen, then he just visualized blurting out the truth at some point in the remnants of his surrogate youngest's shortened life.
But instead, it was his forgotten cellphone left on the little night-table beside Sam's bed that brought everything out in the open.
.
Sam slowly eases his eyelids half-way open, once again revealing his hazel orbs through slit eyes. He swallows thickly against his dry throat, trying to dampen it. He calls out for his substitute father, his hoarse voice a tiny, simple whisper, "B'bby?"
He receives no respond from the only other usual occupant of the room; and weakly rotates his head to his side, pressing his cheek into the comfortable warmth of the pillow. As expected, his thoughts were confirmed when he finds himself to be alone in the room. Bobby probably just went to the bathroom, he figures.
He exhales out a gentle breath as his mind drifts. Most of the time, he doesn't even realize how many days have passed. He just comes and goes from the living world constantly; and Bobby would have to provide him with all the details, remind him of how many days have passed, what time of the day it was. He talks to him all day long, even when he's asleep, and he knows because he always wakes up to the sound of his voice, telling him stories from their childhood.
Bobby means so much to him, because he has been like a father to him ever since he could remember; and he just can't express the gratitude and love he felt for the older man. Ever since he opened his eyes to this hospital room, Bobby had stayed with him throughout everything, barely ever leaving him alone despite his various requests and pleadings to take care of himself first.
He just wished Dean was here. His big brother would've been doing the same thing.
He was just about to close his eyes when he saw it.
Bobby's phone sitting on the side-table.
A small smile slowly forms on his lips.
It takes almost every bit of his strength when his heavy, trembling hand reaches for it and grabs it loosely. He slowly brings it towards himself, carefully balancing it on his heaving chest; his weakness limiting his movements, and now he's feeling incredibly drained of energy.
But it was worth it as he calls his brother's number.
.
.
Bobby hastily rolls his wheels towards Sam's room as he hears loud beeping of heart monitors, completely ignoring the nurses rushing inside and outside as he pushed past the crowd of blue scrubs. His heart pounds rapidly with fear, his gut twisting anxiously as the horrible images of the worst possibilities flood his mind.
No, no, no. Sam can't be dead. Not so soon. Not before Dean sees his brother for the last time.
This favor was as much for Dean as it was for Sam. Because Bobby knew that Dean would already be really guilty and broken when he would find out that his brother was dying and that he refused to see him in his final moments of life; that he had wasted all of his remaining time with Sam ignoring his calls. But even more so, he'd be completely shattered to know that he was too late to answer his phone, to know that he didn't take the chance to see Sam's face one last time, to say all the things he would've wanted to tell him but never had the courage to.
It was that thought that kept him from giving up.
But if Sam gives up . . .
No, he can't think that. Sam will hold on for as long as he can, for Dean, for Bobby.
And today's only the seventh day. Sam's stronger than that, right?
He reaches Sam's room, his voice panicked as he excuses himself through the horde of nurses.
"Sir, please! You must calm down!" The doctor exclaims, his hand on his patient's heaving chest to hold him down.
"Leggo!" Sam's hoarse, determined voice is nothing above a whisper. But what hurts Bobby the worst was how easily he's restrained for a man his size, with only a single hand on his chest.
"Sam." Bobby says his name softly in a relieved and shaky breath; and the young man's wide, terrified eyes swiftly snap towards him.
"B-B'bby! W-we haff - hafta' go." He tells him frantically as he struggles against the doctor's hand, fear and anxiety and pain lacing his voice. Beads of sweat form on his forehead, his features scrunched up with agony; and his breaths were coming out in heavy pants, from both panick and pain.
"I'll calm him down." Bobby says, wheeling forward.
The doctor nods, knowing too well that sometimes, only a patient's family is capable of such tasks. "Too much stress is not good for his condition. Please take care." He says; and with a respectful nod of goodbye, he retreats out of the room with the medical staff shuffling behind him.
"Okay, now relax and tell me what's wrong."
Bobby waits in complete silence as his youngest tries to control his frantic emotions and his rapid breathing, closing his eyes and pulling in greedy breaths to feed his starved lungs.
"S'De'n." He begins after a while, penetrating through the slience. His voice was soft and weary as the rush of adrenaline exits his body, leaving him exhausted. "Wh-wh'n you were gon', t'ied t'call 'im. Lods a'times. Buh' still wasn' picking a'his ph'ne. Thin' he's n'trouble."
Bobby furrows his eyebrows in confusion, wondering how the kid found a phone.
"Y'f'rgot it." Sam answers his silent thoughts, smiling weakly.
His hands move instinctively to his pockets, searching for that solid lump of his phone.
He finds them flat.
He looks at Sam first, and then checks the night table.
And then his peripheral vision catch sight of a rectangular black object, and he turns his gaze towards the bed, beside Sam's pale arm.
He sighs as he grabs it, mentally slapping himself for leaving his phone here (for leaving the path to his lies exposed.)
"W-we gotta 'elp 'im. Please." Sam whispers between heavy breaths, helpless tears filling his eyes.
"You know we can't go, kid." Bobby says softly, his gentle eyes sympathetic at his youngest's tears.
"Buh' we can't jus' - "
"Look at me, Sam." Bobby says lightly, his sad voice coaxing as he gestures to his legs, and letting his hands fall weakly on his lap . Then he adds, in a voice almost as low as a whisper. "Look at yourself."
He swallows as his gut clenches with the same guilt that's been eating away at him for the past seven days, his heart weighing down with sorrow once again. He knew he should just tell him the truth right now instead of continuing this exhausting cycle of lies.
But he has gone so far now that he has no idea how to go back.
"H-how could y's-say tha'? Sam says, his eyes wide and tearful, his voice thick. "De'n coul' - cou' be d-dyin' ou' th-th're. Don' - don' you care?"
Bobby takes off his baseball cap and runs his fingers through his balding hair, sighing lightly as he wonders how to tell someone that your brother isn't picking up his phone because he doesn't know that you're dying and is still pissed at you for your last year's actions and that's why he doesn't want to come, not because he's in trouble or hurt.
"C-can't sit 'ere while m'brother's hur'."
"Sam - "
"We haf' - hafta 'elp 'im. Please." He begs softly, tears dampening his cheeks.
"Sam, you don't understand..."
"Please." He pleads again.
The old hunter swallows against the dryness in his throat. "Listen, there's something I need to tell you, kid." Bobby says, his tone hesitant and anxious. But the idea of potential relief from the burden of his guilt and lies gave him the extra push and strength that he needed.
He closes his weary eyes, deepening his breaths and exhaling them as he internally braces himself for what he's about to do.
For what's to come.
Author's Note: Hi, guys. So, even though my updates are always so late, I just want to reassure you that I'm not abandoning this story. I'm so sorry for my constant delays! Life's been kind of depressing, to be honest, so I just never had it in me to write anything.
Thank you so much for your tags and reviews! It really means a lot to me.