Notes

Uh...I really don't have any notes this time besides that I've had this in my mind for the LOOOOOOONGest time and it feels good to finally get it into type and I hope ya'll like it.

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Chapter 7

After a quick lunch of mush hardly passing for chicken salad on soggy rye bread, Sam and Bobby got refills of coffee and headed back up to the third floor. Neither had said much over lunch and even less was said on the way back to Dean's room.

The walk was silent, both hunters lost in their own thoughts, heads down, though being careful to avoid bumping into the occasional passer-by in the halls. Only Sam's weary sigh filled in the silence during the short elevator ride. The bell dinged as the car reached the third floor and the two men shuffled off and took a right out of the doors.

A group of nurses wearing a rainbow of pink, orange, and balloon-printed scrubs gathered by the station just down the hall from Dean's room. As Bobby and Sam approached the station, the nurse in pink scrubs turned and Sam recognized the small woman that he'd met earlier that morning. Jillian's eyes widened upon seeing Sam and she turned to approach him. Sam's stomach tightened, unsettling his questionable lunch, and a stab of panic jolted through him. He stopped, as did Bobby, when Jillian approached them.

"Paul." Jillian smiled warmly. Sam nodded tightly, expertly cloaking his initial confusion as to why she had just called him Paul.

"My brother okay?"

Jillian nodded once. "He's just as you left him."

Sam frowned a little at the cleverly disguised un-answer. It was a dance of avoidance that Dean had resorted to many times over the years when he didn't want to talk about or give a direct answer to something. It was something Sam had become very familiar with and could spot easily.

"Dr. Herschfeld was looking for you two though. He's checking up on a few other patients and he'll be back to talk to you both in a little while. So don't wander far."

Sam felt Bobby's eyes on him, searching, waiting for his reaction, but he ignored him and smiled down at the tiny nurse standing in front of him.

"Thanks, Jillian."

Jillian patted Sam's arm, smiled at Bobby, and returned to orange and balloon-printed scrubs. Sam's jaw muscles jumped as he swallowed hard over the newly-formed lump in his throat. He turned to Bobby, finally meeting his gaze. Bobby lifted his shoulders a little.

"Could be good news."

Sam nodded vaguely. Hopeful, but still cautious. Bobby clapped him on the shoulder and urged him down the hall.

"You go ahead, I'll catch up."

Sam smiled his thanks. He knew that Bobby was concerned about Dean and wanted to be by his side too, but Sam still appreciated him allowing time alone with his brother. Sam walked past the nurses' station and a few doors before he came to Dean's room. The door was slightly ajar and Sam went to open it. A male voice coming from within stopped his hand just as his long fingers grazed the handle.

"He's been out of surgery for what? Five hours now? I know it was a major operation, but even so...most people would have woken up at least once by now. If only for a second."

A second voice—female, high and a little nasally—replied.

"Looks like the handsome son of a gun's been through Hell. The doc said if he doesn't respond soon there'll be reason to worry."

A deep sigh and the male voice spoke up again. "Ya know I've been doing this gig for awhile now. And I can't tell ya how many times people have had major re-wiring done, not kicked the anesthetic, and just slipped into a coma."

"Seen a few of those myself. S'damn shame. Any of yours wake up?"

Sam hoped that perhaps choosing to enter the room at the moment would prevent the man from responding to the question he didn't want to know the answer to, but he still heard the "No" as he walked through the doorway. The voices belonged to two nurses, one standing on either side of Dean's bed.

The woman was on the far side, changing the IV bag. She looked up and startled at seeing Sam. The man noticed her surprise and turned to look as well. Sam stood, feeling irrationally angry at both people. How could they talk so nonchalantly about someone else's possible, slow demise? Not just someone. Dean. His brother who had put himself in danger more times in his lifetime than most firefighters or policemen, and saved scores of people; many of whom he didn't even know personally. Dean, who had sacrificed literally everything possible for his family, for his little brother. Dean, who deserved some respect. If only just a little.

The nurses must have sensed Sam's anger because their smiles faded and their eyes widened slightly with intimidation. The man turned quickly back to changing Dean's bandages and the woman hung up the fresh IV bag, unclipped the drip hold, and walked quickly past Sam, her head down and her eyes purposefully looking at anything but him. Sam followed her with his eyes as she left then flicked his sharp gaze to the male nurse who was still hastily changing Dean's bandages.

Sam shuffled over to the wall and leaned against it. His shoulders hunched and he shoved the hand not holding his coffee into the front, left pocket of his jeans. The nurse's movements were rushed and jolty, but he successfully applied the final piece of medical tape to the wrapping around Dean's chest and stumbled out of the room, closing the door behind him. Sam glared after the man and sighed when the door clicked shut.

He looked over at Dean and the scowl melted from his face. Other than the fresh bandages, his brother remained the same. Sam shook his head at his own naiveness at thinking that something would have changed in the sixty-three minutes he'd left Dean by himself. While a part of him hoped and expected Dean to wake up at any moment, a teasing at the back of Sam's mind and the dark pit in his stomach quickly countered. He couldn't shake his reccuring nightmare. Every moment left alone to himself, the horrific images would flare up, bringing with them an intense feeling of dread and an overall chill. The dream once again reared its head and pushed Sam to quickly close the distance between himself and his resting brother.

"Hey. I'm back. Just grabbed something to eat with Bobby." All anger had drained from Sam and he spoke in a soft, soothing voice. He returned to the awaiting chair next to Dean's bed as he rambled on about the sucky cafeteria food but how the coffee wasn't half bad. He went on to retell a few cherished memories that came to mind, asking without waiting for a reply if Dean remembered them. Sam talked just about anything that he could think of to fill the silence, but he could only keep that up for so long and each time Dean failed to respond, he lost a little more heart until he finally gave up and fell silent. He slumped back in the chair and placed the now cold cup of coffee on the table next to the bed.

He wondered if Dean could even hear him. Sam had talked to him when he was in a coma after the run-in with the Yellow-Eyed Demon, but after he woke up Dean never mentioned hearing him. Sam wondered if a Oujia board would work again, a part of him hoping that it would not due to the fact that that would mean that Dean was a lot worse off than he wanted to believe.

As if lurking in the depths of Sam's mind—waiting, feeding off of his growing despair—darker thoughts drifted to the front of Sam's awareness. His own voice echoed suddenly through his memory.

"No! Stop!"

Dean's tortured cries. Blood.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut at the unpleasantly vivid replay of the memory. He shook his head as if to rid it of the images and poked his thumb and index finger into his scrunched eyes.

Claws ripping through Dean's flesh. His back. Shoulder. Chest. More blood.

"Stop it!"

His voice sounded louder that time. Pressure built somewhere behind Sam's eyes, throbbing with each heavy beat of his heart. A low groan rumbled in his throat and he leaned forward to rest his elbows against his knees.

The bitch laughing. Enjoying Dean's pain and Sam's anguish.

Dean slipping away. Quiet all of the sudden. His pain-filled eyes staring as the light in them faded. He was dying. Sam was watching his brother die.

Hooks, blood, Dean's terrified screams of plea.

"Somebody help me! Saaaam!"

The pressure built and flared, spreading and filling Sam's entire head with stabbing pain. He felt his heart break all over again, the images playing out beyond his control, way too real for his liking.

Dean's dead expression, his blank staring gaze.

"No!"

"Yes."

The voice hissed in his ear. Sam jerked away from the sound, swearing that someone had just whispered in his ear. He pulled in a sharp breath and blinked his eyes open, the surroundings of the hospital room slowly creeping back into focus. Breath drew and left in quick bursts and Sam felt his heart racing wildly, each beat a painful thump inside his skull. His eyes felt hot and too big for the sockets that held them. He looked down and found the floor tiles in his direct line of sight. He was bent over, half out of the chair. His right arm stretched before him. His palm lay flat against the floor, fingers spread wide to brace himself. The other was crushed between his upper body and thigh. Carefully, as to not further increase the violent, rhythmic pounding in his head, Sam pushed himself upright, pulling in deep, steadying breaths. Dean swam into distorted focus and Sam quickly brushed his eyes dry, annoyed by the obstruction.

He let out a breathy sigh at seeing that Dean remained the same: his chest rising and falling with life and his heartbeat channeling through the beeps filling the room. Sam took in a deep, measured breath and let it out just as carefully. He winced as his head throbbed a particularly painful beat and he lifted his hands to his temples, rubbing counter clockwise with his index and middle fingers.

What the hell had that been? Since when did remembering something hurt? And since when did memories come with surround sound and special effects? Sam squinted, finally able to wonder why the memory had seemed to effect him in such a physical manner; he felt exhausted, drained, and his head felt like someone decided to use it as a percussion instrument. It had all felt so real, like he had been experiencing it all over again. "What the hell just happened?"

"S-Sam?"

Sam's head whipped around, startled by the gruff, quiet voice. Bobby had come into the room at some point and he stood by the door. He was pressed into the corner where the doorway and adjacent wall met, staring at Sam with eyes wide enough that the white showed nearly all around the irises. Sam swallowed over the tight feeling in his throat and hung his head.

"Bobby, hey...Just uh..." He reached up and rubbed hard at his forehead. "Just give me a minute, alright?"

"Sam what the hell just happened?"

Sam flicked his head to the side, a puzzled look pulling down his eyebrows. Had he wondered that exact thought aloud before? How did Bobby know something had happened?

"What do you mean?"

Bobby walked forward, caution evident in his jolted steps.

"What do I mean? I ran in here cause I heard you hollering Dean's name. I thought..." Bobby rubbed at the top of his forehead. Sam's expression softened. He didn't realize he had screamed, but he could imagine what it must have sounded like to Bobby.

"Oh...sorry, I...I didn't realize. I-" Sam stopped short as his gaze drifted and stilled on Dean's blanket. His eyes widened as they caught on a spot of red blossoming across the sheets. Sam stood quickly, causing the chair to tip dangerously before clattering back down onto all fours. He rushed around the side of the bed to find the IV pole tipped over on the ground. The blood transfusion tube had been ripped from Dean's arm and was leaking over the floor. Sam quickly checked his brother. The source of the blood covering the blanket was from where the line had been torn from Dean's arm. Sam clamped a hand over the hole in his brother's arm and bent it at the elbow, staunching the blood flow. The IV tube hooked to Dean's hand had somehow managed to stay attached, but it pulled tight against his skin. Bobby got to the IV pole first and righted it and Sam hit the nurse call button.

He kept the pressure on Dean's arm and flicked wide, panicked eyes up to Bobby. The older man reflected the stare, mild fear showing through as well. Sam looked past him and stared in confused shock as he noticed for the first time the condition that the room was in. The whiteboard that held the date and the name of the nurse on duty had fallen off the wall. The mirror mounted over the sink was cracked, a few pieces had fallen and shattered in the basin, and paper towels from the dispenser to the right of it littered the stainless steel counter and the floor. The only window in the room had a crack snaking jaggedly across it and any other randomly placed object in the room was on the floor or in some other form of disarray. Sam's mouth moved voicelessly like a landed fish and he blinked dumbly at Bobby.

"Wha-...?" was all Sam's swirling mind could offer.

Bobby just stared mutely at him. A nurse came into the room, looking a little annoyed and rather bored before she saw the state of the room. Her eyes widened and she leaned out the door to call something down the hall. Turning back into the room, she rushed over to the bed and her eyes immediately zeroed on the blood covering the floor and blanket.

"What happened?"

Sam shook his head numbly. "I don't...I don't know."

The nurse looked around the room quickly and when her eyes got back to Sam, she regarded him with a suspicious look. She pursed her lips and straightened up, her small frame still dwarfed next to Sam. "Please step aside, sir."

Sam didn't miss the flash in the nurse's eyes, or her new found tone.

"I didn't do this." Sam scoffed, sounding genuinely innocent and a little angry.

A second nurse appeared behind the one glaring at Sam, seeming to interpret the situation the same way as the first one.

"Step aside. We've got it covered." The nurse repeated flatly.

Sam's lip twitched at a sudden and intense feeling of dislike for the bossy woman half his size. He reluctantly released Dean's arm, his brother's blood still warm on his hand, and took a slow step back. He returned the nurses' glares and watched as they went to work righting the transfusion line.

Sam jumped at the hand on his arm and tore his eyes away from Dean to look at Bobby. The steely-blue gaze stared at him with what looked like a hint of awe. Something close to fear lurking in the worn hunter's eyes puzzled Sam and he complied as Bobby pulled him out of the room without saying a word. He wanted to complain as Bobby closed the door behind them once they got to the hall, blocking his view of Dean, but Bobby continued to pull Sam along down the hall and didn't stop until they'd passed through a set of double doors into a darkened wing that had been closed.

"Bobby, what?"

Bobby released his hold on Sam's forearm and rubbed both hands roughly over his face. Panic spiked in Sam. Demons? Had demons done that? Had the lines been breached? Broken somehow? Hatred flared, caused Sam's hands to clench into fists. Lillith?

"Bobby." Sam's voice pitched low, the single name said as a warning.

Bobby's eyes drifted about and slowly worked their way to Sam's face, though he still did not meet the frazzled young man's gaze. Sam straightened up to his full height and squared his shoulders. His fists clenched at his sides. He was tired of being treated like a child, like he couldn't handle the truth. Secrets. Always secrets, none of which he was ever in on.

"If you know something, you'd better tell me. Right. Now."

Bobby nodded slowly. "I uh-" He cleared his throat. "I was waiting outside, to give you some time, ya know? And I heard you yell Dean's name all of the sudden. You sounded...scared, down right terrified. Not sure how no one else heard, but I rushed in and..."

Bobby paused, looking as if he was searching for something. Sam shifted his weight impatiently. His fingers curled, clenched, then relaxed over and over again.

"Bobby. Tell. Me-"

"Sam the room was shaking." Bobby's words came out in a rush. Sam's frustration drained away and his shoulders slumped. He felt the pounding in his head anew as his heart rate rose. He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Shaking?"

"Looked liked an earthquake was passing. Everything was falling all over the place, the window damn near rattled out of its frame."

Sam stared blankly at his clearly shell-shocked friend. He hadn't even felt anything. What was Bobby trying to...Sam's expression softened, eyebrows raising a little.

"You think it was me." It wasn't so much a question as a statement waiting to be proven as false.

Bobby shrugged minutely, his wide eyes still sizing up Sam slowly. Sam moved his hands to his hips and paced away down the dark corridor. He walked five, measured steps then turned on his heel and went back.

"No. No, this doesn't happen anymore. I haven't had any visions, dreams, nothing since Wyoming. It all stopped after-" "Not gone. Dormant." Ruby's words echoed through Sam's mind. She had said that he could save Dean. Hell, Sam had been willing to try. His mind raced in a near incoherent stream of thought. Did he still have abilities? Had he been the one to turn Dean's room upside down? Lillith's powers had been ineffective on him. Whatever was supposed to accompany that white light had somehow failed when turned upon him. Sam had pondered it briefly before, but it suddenly stood out in his mind again. And those dreams he'd been having; they were so vivid and disturbing. Also, the effect the memory of Dean being attacked by the hell hound had had on him had been odd...almost physically exhausting.

Sam didn't even realize he'd started pacing, but he stopped short. That was what he'd been thinking of at the time when Bobby said the room had been shaking. Sam became very still as the time he'd somehow moved that china-cabinet back in Michigan flicked to the front of his memory. He had seen Dean die, and had moved the damn thing. Just pushed it three feet like it was nothing, and without even touching it. Sam remembered the intense panic he'd felt. The pure, raw desperation that rushed him like a breaking dam after he'd had the vision of Dean dying. He realized he'd felt the same way when the hell hound got Dean and again just a few minutes earlier when he'd relived it in perfect detail.

The magnitude of the possibility made Sam take in a sharp breath. It fit. Bobby's assumption was right, and so was Ruby: Sam's powers had been hidden, dormant, for nearly a year, but now they had awakened and apparently with more power than before. Sam brought his right hand up, his palm spanning over his eyes, and rubbed his throbbing temples with his thumb and middle finger.

"God." He felt Bobby's eyes on him, but kept his eyes squeezed shut and continued to massage his temples. "What-?...How is this even possible?"

He dropped his hand and looked up in time to see Bobby shrug, looking truly perplexed.

"I wish I had the answer for ya, Sam."

Sam's shoulders slumped. He hadn't expected Bobby to know, but still felt disappointed when he didn't. The feeling of complete loss of control crept and coiled around Sam's heart. A part of him thought—hoped, pleaded—that the absence of his powers meant that perhaps his destiny could change, that he had the ability to change it. No visions or even dreams had occurred since the Yellow-Eyed Demon was killed. Sam had concluded that his powers had been tied to it somehow and had vanquished with the Demon's death. He'd thought that perhaps he was in the clear. There was no risk of going dark side if no one was there to push him towards it. But now, Sam felt his miscalculations like a physical weight on his shoulders.

"Let's just focus on Dean gettin' better for now. When he wakes up, we'll worry about what happened back there. Who knows, maybe he'll have an idea."

Sam's head snapped towards Bobby, his sea-green eyes wide and wild. "You can't tell him."

Bobby heard Dean's voice in the words. "You take a shot at me, whatever you gotta do, but please don't tell him." It was starting to freak him out how many times Sam had reminded him of his older brother over the past year.

"Why not?"

"Why?" Sam's head flicked back in incredulity. "Because he doesn't need that extra burden after all he's been through, that's why!"

"I understand that, Sam. But he's your brother. He'll want to know-"

"No! It would kill him, Bobby."

Bobby's brows dipped. "What? They're just powers, Sam."

"No, they're my powers. Come on, you know that the Demon had plans for people like me."

"Yeah, but the Demon's dead, Sam."

"Right and look what happened anyway."

Bobby opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly. Sam raised his eyebrows and spread his arms expectantly, but still Bobby said nothing.

"Max, Andy's brother, Ava, Jake..." Sam counted the name's off on his fingers, practically hissing the last name. "...They all bought into the Demon's plan."

Bobby saw where Sam was going and took a step towards him.

"Sam that doesn't mean you will. You didn't, still haven't." Bobby voice had softened to intend comfort, but Sam chuckled almost hysterically at the words.

"And I suppose Dad made Dean promise him just to keep him on his toes, right?"

Bobby started to speak, but paused. A puzzled look crept over his face. "What do you mean 'promise'?"

Sam rolled his eyes impatiently. "What he told Dean about me right before he died?"

Bobby shook his head. He closed his eyes, Sam's unhinged train of thought was starting to make him feel dizzy. "Sam, I don't kn-"

"When he told Dean that he'd have to ki-"

Sam stopped short, the last word choking him, forbidding him to finish. His eyes widened slightly as his face slowly lost all signs of anger and frustration. He realized that he had never told Bobby what Dean had confessed to him after the demon incident in Oregan, and apparently Dean hadn't either. Sam's eyes welled a little at the renewed feeling of the weight Dean's promise had placed on both of them. He swallowed over the sudden lump in his throat, forgetting the fire of anger and frustration that had fueled his animated argument just moments earlier.

"Sam?" Bobby's voice held concern and curiosity. "What did Dean promise?...You okay?"

Sam started to shake his head, but stopped and nodded once. "M'fine. Never mind, Bobby."

"Sam-"

"I said nevermind. It's not important right now and it won't solve anything."

The door to the darkened wing swung open suddenly and Dr. Herschfeld poked his head in, saving Sam from Bobby's still-inquisitive stare.

"Thought I heard voices." Dr. Herschfeld replied, looking from Bobby's stressed expression to Sam's pinched, crushed one. "I'm glad I found you." He continued. "I need to speak with you gentlemen about Simon."

Sam's stomach twisted as he recalled the nurses' conversation he'd overheard outside Dean's room. That, mixed with Dr. Herschfeld's current expression, made him feel nauseous with dread.

"What about him?" Bobby spoke and Sam glanced a look at him, grateful he had asked first; the feeling of nausea was getting hard to control and he was sure attempting to speak wouldn't have helped much. Herschfeld opened his mouth, but paused and looked around. He looked down the dark, deserted hallway and then back behind him before emerging all the way through the doors and standing before Bobby and Sam.

"Well, I suppose here is as good a place to talk as any. Private at least."

"About my brother?" Sam nudged impatiently, successfully willing the churning feeling in his stomach back enough to talk.

Herschfeld swept his eyes over Sam briefly. "Right. Well...I can't lie, I'm concerned. The anesthetic should have worn off hours ago, but Simon still hasn't regained consciousness. Not once."

Sam and Bobby shared a look. Sam looked away first.

"What does that mean?" His voice was low and clipped.

"I'm not sure. Everything went well. I didn't think his body would have trouble working through the anesthetic, even in its challenged state."

"But now you do." Sam provided, lowering his head a little, a part of him hoping that the doctor would disagree with his assumption.

The doctor shrugged in a defeated manner and he motioned vaguely with his right hand. "I'd like to run a few tests. An MRI, a CT scan. That might be able to tell us what we're dealing with."

Dr. Herschfeld held Sam's gaze and he raised his eyebrows. Sam nodded, sensing the doctor's silent request of consent. Herschfeld nodded curtly.

"One more question, why is Frank the security guard standing outside Simon's room?"

Sam's eyebrows began to dip, but stopped halfway. His face fell and he rolled his eyes.

"Something wrong, Mr. Kirke?"

Sam chuckled bitterly and shook his head incredulously. "Something...happened in my brother's room. The IV stand got knocked over and the transfusion line got pulled."

Sam looked up at the doctor, letting him piece together the rest.

"And someone seems to think one of you had something to do with it?"

Sam saw Bobby's look out of his periphery, but kept his expression the same. "Appears so."

Dr. Herschfeld nodded slowly as his eyes moved between the two men, sizing them up. He met Sam's gaze again and nodded once.

"Wouldn't believe it for a second. Go back to Simon, I'll call off the hit." Herschfeld smiled, the first smile Sam had seen on the man that actually held warmth. Sam seemed to suddenly realize that he had almost been forcibly kept from Dean and he smiled in thankful relief at Dr. Herschfeld.

"I appreciate it."

Herschfeld backed up, pushing open one of the doors. "I'll set up the tests for Simon."

With that he turned out the door and headed for the heavy-set security guard standing in the hall outside Dean's room. Sam and Bobby watched him through the windows of the double doors. Dr. Herschfeld walked up to the guard, exchanged a few words with him, patted his arm good-naturedly, and they both walked away down the hall.

"I take it back..." Sam looked up at Bobby's words. Bobby looked from the doctor's retreating back to Sam, a respectful smile crinkling his eyes. "...I like the man."

...To Be Continued...

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If I do say so myself, I rather like that chapter: ) I hope ya'll do too.

So yes...we're getting a little further into the heart of the story and uh...yeah, that's all I'm gonna say cause I haven't had breakfast yet and I'm hungry

Reviews are like cream cheese...and I'm a bagel(Mmm, I know what I'M having for breakfast: D)

Oo-Lil-oO