Disclaimer: Don't sue me, Kripke. It's all yours. I'm just having a little fun with your toys.

Weight of the World

Sam walked into Dean's hospital room, carrying a shopping sack, feeling exhausted. Bobby was still trying to research Angela Devlyn, because they couldn't find anything of this woman in the town.

Dean was still in a coma. Machines beeped, telling Sam that his brother was still alive, although Sam eyed the machines nervously, knowing that if a machine happened to fail, Dean would probably die.

A doctor came in, carrying Dean's files. He came to a stop in front of Sam and shuffled nervously. "Mr. Warren? I'm Dr. Davenport. I'm one of your brother's attendings. Are you here to check up on him?"

Obviously not the smartest attending on staff, is he? "Yeah. Has there been any change?"

"Yeah. He's gotten worse. He's weakening. And, I know you've been advised this before, but we really think you should take him off of life support. To be blunt, he's already dead. So, let him die with dignity."

Sam glared at the doctor, but couldn't find his voice to say that there's no way Dean's going to die like this. Not now. Not ever.

Dr. Davenport nervously cleared his throat. "I'll leave you alone with him."

Sam shuffled the bag. "Um, Dean, the doctors say that you're going to die. But, I'm doing everything I can to prevent it. But, I also need to know that you're fighting with me. So, this worked last time. It doesn't hurt to try it again."

He pulled out a Ouija board out of his bag and sat on the floor, smiling to himself as he thought of Dean's reaction to this. But, it worked last time, so I hope it'll work this time.

He unfolded the board and put the pointer down and lightly rested his fingertips on the pointer. He took a deep breath. "Dean? Are you here?"

The pointer didn't move.

Sam hesitated, then tried again. "Dean?"

The pointer slowly started to move, and Sam felt a relieved grin come over him.

"No."

Sam felt his smile drop. "Do you know where Dean is?"

The pointer moved again. "No."

Sam wondered what his next question should be, seeing that Dean was not communicating with him, when the pointer started moving on its own accord. "D-E-A-D."

"Dean's not dead!" People and spirits need to stop saying that!

The pointer moved again. "A-L-O-N-E."

"What do you mean, 'Alone'?"

The pointer moved again. "U-R"

"'You are.' Me? I'm alone? What are you saying?"

The pointer hadn't stopped its creepy movement during Sam's outburst. It finished. "M-I-N-E."

Sam picked up the pointer and threw it across the room. He sat back down, shaking and sweating. As he struggled to catch his breath, he started hearing the beeps on Dean's machines again. They started sounding weird.

He looked up, just as Dean's heart monitor gave a solid, piercing shriek as it recorded a flat line.

"Dean?" Sam scrambled up, just as a flurry of doctors and nurses came running in, talking over each other. One doctor started chest compressions as he yelled for a defibrillator.

A nurse yanked on Sam's arm and pulled him out of the room. Sam watched the activity from the doorway as Dean's body jumped with every electric shock.

Not again! He screamed out in his head, feeling tears sting his eyes. Dear God, not again!


She walked into the hospital and looked around, looking for her brother. She felt the vial of red liquid in her purse and smiled to herself. That was her ace in the hole if something went wrong, although she had been taught by her father never to plan for the worst. She couldn't help it. She was a planner.

She heard her brother talking to someone in the room down the hall and leaned up against the nurses' station to wait.

Her brother came out of the room and spotted her. He strutted up to her, obviously enjoying his new host body.

She frowned. "You're a doctor now?"

He grinned. "Yep. Dr. Davenport now, and don't you forget it, missy."

She focused on his badge. "You're a doctor?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing. Just thought you needed some sort of brains in order to be a doctor."

He didn't answer her. Instead, he grabbed her arm. "Listen, I'm one of Dean's attendings. Perfect spot to monitor him, wouldn't you say? And, I've been feeding Sam with ideas that he should just go ahead and pull the plug on Dean. And, come with me. Let's watch what unfolds."

"Well, if you're able to keep your eye on Dean that way, I must say I'm impressed. And, here I thought you were a coward for fleeing from Sammy." She walked with him to Dean's door and watched Sam open a Ouija board box.

"He doesn't look so good, does he?" her brother hissed in her ear.

"Which one? They both don't look very well," she whispered back.

They turned their attention back on the Ouija board. Although they couldn't quite hear what Sam was asking it, it was obviously not giving him the answers he was wanting. Suddenly, he threw the pointer across the room.

"Are you doing this?" her brother asked.

"No. But, I'm enjoying it."

Suddenly, alarms started blaring from the nurses' station, and all the nurses and some doctors around the area rushed into Dean's room.

"Did you arrange this, big brother?"

"Yep. Now aren't you impressed with me?"

"I'm getting there."

He stepped away from her. "I better get in there. Must keep up appearances." He walked into Dean's room as Sam was getting shoved out.

She walked off, listening to the beautiful shrieks of the blaring alarms. She just needed to find a suitable vessel to inform father of these events, even though she wondered if father himself was the one giving Sammy those answers. And, even though she hated the idea of killing someone else in cold blood to talk to father.

Still, he'll be so proud, she told herself as she walked out of the door.


"Dean? Are you here?"

Dean opened his eyes and rolled over in his bed. It had been a couple months since he had even dreamed of hunting. Or of Sam. Now, Sam was starting to wake him up again.

Leave me alone, Sammy.

He turned on his light, illuminating his childhood bedroom. Sports trophies, yearbooks, pictures, as well as some old model cars cast eerie shadows on the wall.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He didn't remember the dream that woke him up. Just Sam asking if he was around.

He walked out of his room, which still felt familiar yet uncomfortable, even though he had been home in Lawrence for about a week.

As he walked down the hall to the stairs, he spotted a light on in his mother's office and heard Beatles music softly playing. He wandered over to her doorway and watched her chew the top of a pen as she read what she typed on the computer.

Dean wondered how he could tell her he was there without startling her when she glanced up towards him and jumped.

"Sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to scare you," he said as he stepped into the room.

"That's alright, Baby. Couldn't sleep, huh?" she asked as she took off her glasses and leaned back in her chair.

He sat down in a chair and put his feet up on the other chair. "Obviously, you couldn't either."

"Well, I'm really behind on grading these tests. Plus, I have some research to do on my book."

Dean picked up a typed batch of papers stapled together. "Since when do you let your students type their tests?"

"Since I discovered that I couldn't decipher their handwriting without having the Rosetta Stone with me. And, it's hard to ask my TAs to try to figure out the students' handwriting either. So, I give them their test papers a week ahead of time, which allows them to proofread their papers. Or, so that's the theory."

Dean shifted through the tests. "This is your gen ed history class, right?" He skimmed through a paper. "Here's a mistake, Mom. 'The South raised taxis to help with their war effort against the North'."

She laughed. "Obviously meant 'taxes.' Circle it for me, and I'll determine if I'll let it go as just a typo. It really depends on the quality of the essay."

"Well, if the North met an army of yellow cabs, the Battle of Gettysburg probably would have gone differently." He put the paper down.

"And, if he would have argued it that way, he might get a good grade. I tell my students that they can give me any sort of bullshit they want, and if they can argue it effectively, they'll get a better grade."

Dean fell silent, and Mary turned back to the computer. "So, what are you planning on doing tomorrow?" she asked.

"Jess and I are heading to KC. I have an appointment with Dr. Hendrickson early afternoon. Then, we might see if we can't catch a Royals' game or something before heading back. She wants to go shopping on the Plaza." He motioned to the notebooks Mary was reading from. "So, what's your book about?"

She leaned back in her chair again and sighed. "Supposedly haunted cemeteries and houses here in Kansas. I've been to Stull a lot, of course. Been to the Eldridge Hotel, and I still can't find the ghosts that haunt it. But, there are some great ghost stories all around Kansas. There's a ghost in Wichita that throws loaves of bread whenever it wants to be noticed. However, right now, I don't have a thesis. So, I'm pretty much working blind."

"You'll find your topic, Mom. You always do. After all, you're the best urban legend historian around."

"Thanks, Baby." She chuckled softly, and then muttered, "Yeah, right," under her breath as she turned back to the computer.

Dean listened to the soft clacks of the keys for a few minutes. "Mom, I'm sorry."

She stopped typing and looked at Dean. "Baby, don't ever be sorry. About anything. I wish that life didn't have to be like it is, you know?" Her voice choked up, and she cleared her throat. "It's been a shitty year, hasn't it?"

Dean chuckled dryly. "You have no idea."

"Well, between losing your dad and everything…."

Dean played with a staple on a test paper. "Do you ever wish that I were, you know, Sammy?" At Mary's alarmed look, he amended his thought. "You know, do you ever miss Sammy? Do you ever think about him?"

"I think about him every day, Dean. Wondering what he would have been like. But, I never got to know him. I know you. I love you, Dean. And, although it would have been nice if you would have kept up with your meds after Dad died, I absolutely never wished that you were Sammy. The thought never even crossed my mind. I love you, and I'm so proud of you."

Dean gave her a half smile, then went back to playing with the stable on the paper. She watched him shift awkwardly for a couple minutes. "Something else on your mind, hon?"

Dean dropped the paper. "No. Not really. Just thinking."

"About what? You know you can tell me anything, don't you? You keep everything so bottled up, but I'm here to talk to."

"I was in Sammy's nursery the night he died. I heard him die." He began awkwardly.

"What?"

The memory unfolded like Dean was watching a scene from a movie. He could see all the details, even his footie pajamas. "You and Dad gave Sammy a stuffed animal of mine that I never played with. A stupid blue horse that probably burned up in that fire. But, I suddenly wanted that horse. So, I snuck into his nursery that night to get that horse. I heard Sammy breathe. There was a horrible rattle in his breath. I'm still surprised that it didn't wake you and Dad up. I thought about getting you or Dad, but then the rattle stopped. I went back to sleep. Dad woke me up the next morning and told me that Sammy died. Well, he said that Sammy went to Heaven. Same thing."

Mary's eyes filled with tears. "You never told me about this before."

"No. To be honest, I just wanted to forget it. And, I did. And, if I would have woken you two up, Sammy would still be alive."

"Is-is that why you gave your delusions of Sam part of your life? Because you somehow feel guilty of Sammy's death? Dean, he died of S.I.D.S. If I were in the room, there would have been very little I could have done to save him. You feel too much guilt, Dean. About everything. I've had 23 years to grieve for Sammy, and I've come to the conclusion that sometimes bad things happen to innocent people."

"Yeah, I know."

"Yet you insist on beating yourself up over everything. Like your friend at the hospital? I know you're tearing yourself up about that. Or Dad's death? You don't talk about it, but I suspect that you feel that you're somehow responsible for his accident. Even though you were in California at the time."

"I know."

She sighed and saved her research on her book. "You scare me, Dean. Honey, I love you so much, and you're the only family I have left. But, you terrify me. You've caused me so many sleepless nights, worrying that it's my fault, wondering if you'll be alive tomorrow. The two worst nights I've ever spent was the night your father died and the night that you almost died. It was a long time before I could go into the upstairs bathroom and not see your blood everywhere, in spite of retiling. I still get flashes of it. However, I believe in you. I know your strength, your courage. I'm so proud of you."

Dean felt his chest tighten. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, feeling like a scared child again. Funny how that feeling never goes away.

"I know." She stood, walked to him, and hugged him. "You'll be fine. I know you will."

Dean pulled away from her hug. For some reason, it felt awkward. A quick flash of imagination ran through his mind. An image of him holding a shaking rifle on his mother, and Mary turning away from him and going up in flames suddenly appeared.

He went back to his room and laid down, bothered by the quick flash of Mary. It felt more than a memory of a repressed delusion or dream. He was also bothered by the memory of Sam's death. It felt like a movie that he could fast forward and rewind. Although he remembered it clearly, it still felt wrong.

Something isn't right here…

TBC

A/N: When I was getting my Master's at Oklahoma State University, I was a Teaching Assistant in gen ed history classes. These are some real answers that I got on tests.

I also need to put in a plug for a book called "Haunted Kansas," which has ghost stories from all around Kansas. I'm hoping she writes a sequel, because that is one fascinating book.