Chapter Eight
Dean leaned in the entranceway of his brother's hospital room, his stomach coiling in tight knots. Suddenly afraid to enter, he fidgeted with the fake id badge on his white lab coat. The picture of the man with scruffy brown hair didn't really resemble him, but if know one looked too closely, Dean figured it would be passable.
He scowled at the salt trail he'd placed inside the doorway. It hadn't protected them. Nothing could protect them. Not salt trails. Not amulets and charms. Not holy water. And definitely not faith.
Angrily, Dean thrust his foot through it. Salt crystals scattered across the pristine green-tiled flooring.
Sammy, you can't leave me.
Dean knew Angelina had expected him to have faith . . . to believe in something besides hunting and evil. He didn't think he could. His jaw clenched tightly the muscle in his jaw flexing rhythmically. How the hell am I supposed to believe there is really more out there than just evil. I've lived it and breathed it every single day of my life! It took my dad — my mom — and now it wants to take Sam from me too! Dean shook his head. No, there isn't anything else out there. Just evil, its victims and those who hunt it down.
He rested his head against his arm, and watched Angelina as she tended to Sam. Her head lowered, delicate fingers gently caressing his brother's pale cheek. Angelina bent and kissed Sam lightly on the forehead and spoke softly to him in a language Dean could not fathom. The words sounded like beautiful music as they rolled off her tongue.
"What did you just say to him," Dean asked, his voice low and strained, inclining his head toward his brother.
Angelina turned and smiled, her eyes glistening shards of green-blue ice. Dean didn't return her smile. "An angel's prayer, Dean. It was not meant for your ears."
"Is he — is he worse?" Dean crossed his arms, lowering his face to escape from her intent gaze. He felt way too vulnerable under her close scrutiny.
"What do you mean?"
"Um," he hesitated, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer. Rubbing tired eyes with his thumb and index finger, Dean schooled his features to show no outward emotion. "I mean if an angel's praying over you, ya gotta be pretty bad off, right?"
Angelina nodded.
Dean cocked his head to the side averting his gaze from her and Sam, a deep, hollow ache filling his heart. He bit his lower lip and nodded. "Do you think I could have a moment alone with my brother . . . an angel free moment. No one listening from somewhere overhead." He gestured toward the dull white ceiling. "I mean, is that allowed?"
"Yeah, Dean, that's allowed." Angelina stepped away from Sam, her arm lightly brushing against Dean's forearm as she walked out of the door. "I'll be back shortly."
Dean took a tentative step toward his brother and wavered, his heart in his throat. There were new ugly, purplish bruises and a deep cut on his brother's left cheek. Fresh blood seeped from beneath Sam's hospital gown. Dean's gaze strayed to the heart monitor, listening to his brother's slow heart beat.
Damn it, Sammy, you can't do this to me. You can't die. I won't let you.
Dean strode the rest of the way to the bed, sat down and rested his arm protectively across Sam's chest.
He had so many things he wanted to say . . . so many things he wanted to tell his brother. His mind was so jumbled, he didn't even know where to begin. Everything he'd thought to say sounded stupid and pathetic.
"Hey there, Sammy." His hand tightened around Sam's arm.
Silently, he willed Sam to take his strength, to take his heart, his soul . . . to take whatever he needed to fight off the demon. To come back to him.
"Angels." Dean jerked his thumb back toward the door Angelina had just exited, avoiding what he really wanted to say. "Huh, never would have imagined that, dude."
Sam remained motionless, eyes closed, barely breathing.
Dean's face crumpled, his lips pressed tight against his teeth, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He scratched the back of his head then brusquely raked his fingers through his short, scruffy hair.
"Damn it, Sammy! Come on, open your eyes . . . talk to me . . . do something." Dean angrily swiped away the tears falling down his cheek. He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "Just let me know that your still here with me . . . I can't do this alone — don't want to do this alone."
As if to answer Dean's plea, Sam's head slammed to the side, his body arching, a cry of pain escaping his dried, cracked lips before he went deathly still once more. Within a moment, Sam's right eye began swelling, blood trickling from a cut just below his brow.
"Hold on, Sammy!" Dean ordered, taking on his father's authoritative tone. "Don't you dare let that evil sonuvabitch win — you hear me!"
Dean stood, kicking the chair away forcefully. It slammed into the wall. A picture crashed to the floor sending sparkling shards across the cold, bare floor.
He stalked back and forth trying in vain desperation to regain his composure. What Sam had told Earl echoed in Dean's fragile mind. Sam knew he was dying. He was alone and he was dying. I told you I would always protect you. Would always be there for you . . . and now you're alone. I failed you, Sammy. This is all my fault.
He needed to tell Sammy . . . needed him to know. . . .
"I'm not gonna say it, Sammy. I can't." Dean shook his head, closed his eyes and released a deep shuttering sigh. "Not like this . . . if I do it means I've given up on you — And I just won't do that!"
He glanced back over at Sam, a wry smile on his face. "But know this . . . I do. Never doubt it, Sammy."
A knock on the door, and Angelina peeked inside before entering "Dean, we really have to go."
She raised a disapproving brow, lips pursed as she shook her head."How did I not notice your snazzy new apparel. So, you're a male nurse now, Dean?"
"An orderly," Dean corrected, with a wayward grin. "Sam's more of the male nurse type."
"You didn't steal them, did you?"
"No."
"Dean?"
"I said no."
"How did you get them? I know you didn't have a lot of money."
"Darlin', you've no idea what I can get my hands on if I really need it."
"All right. I'll accept that."She sighed deeply. "There's a gurney right outside the door. Go get it." Angelina swept past Dean as he headed out the door and waved her hand over the heart monitor then removed the leads. The monitor continued to beep in a slow steady rhythm.
Dean pushed the gurney up beside the bed as Angelina removed Sam's IV. He lowered the guard rail and the side of the bed, shoved the gurney into place and locked the wheels. With Angelina's help, Dean wrapped the bottom sheet around Sam, rolled the edge and used it to help slide him over onto the gurney. Dean grabbed the blanket and tucked it securely around his brother.
"Did you park right outside?" Angelina asked.
"I parked so close, people are gonna have a helluva time gettin' in the damn door."
"Good."
Dean kept his head low as they traveled down the long corridor, although no one seemed to even notice them as they bustled past. They entered an elevator, along with an older doctor, and Dean pushed the button for the ground floor.
The olive-skinned doctor with a thick mustache, gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses glanced up from his clipboard and noticed Sam. "What's the matter with him," he asked, concern evident in his gentle brown eyes.
Dean shook his head, shrugging. "Dunno. They don't pay me to diagnose' um . . . just ta push 'um around."
Dean's hand balled into a fist as the older man lifted the blanket covering Sam and examined his shoulder.
"This doesn't look good. Maybe I should take a look at him."
Dean was about to slam his fist into the doctor's face when Angelina grabbed onto his sleeve and gave him a look that clearly said, don't even think about it, Dean. She turned and smiled sweetly at the man.
She placed her hand on the doctor's shoulder. "That won't be necessary. Go back to your work. You are alone in this elevator."
The man's brown eyes glazed over. He furrowed his brow. He looked around and then returned to his paperwork.
The bell tolled for the ground floor and they stepped out.
"Why didn't you just tell me you could do some sorta freak mind thing on them? It would've made this a lot easier. I wouldn't of had to wear this." He gestured to his uniform and grimaced.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Dean," was all she said in reply.
Dean's fingers tightened around the bars of the gurney, his knuckles turning white, a cagy expression on his face as they rushed past the admit desk. The nurse behind the counter glanced up at him, frowning. She tapped another woman on the shoulder and inclined her head toward Dean.
Dean swallowed hard, beads of sweat prickling the back of his neck as the second woman stood and headed in their direction. Angelina nodded to her. The nurse's dark blue eyes lost focus, glazing over. When they returned to normal, she glanced around scratched her head and sat back down. Dean let out a deep sigh and continued onward.
At the door, three EMS workers and a security guard stood talking quietly amongst themselves. The security guard raised a hand to stop them as they approached. The other hand rested on his walkie-talkie, ready to call for backup if needed.
"Where do you think you're taking him?"
Angelina cleared her throat, and smiled, her green-blue eyed gaze hypnotic. "Could you get that door for us."
A puzzled expression crossed the big, burly man's features. His eyes narrowed and Dean was sure he was going to call someone to help. The man nodded and pushed it open for them. "Have a nice day," he called out to them as he went back to chatting with his friends.
Dean eased his brother into the back seat of the Impala, covered him with the blanket and pressed two fingers against Sam's carotid artery, he searched for a pulse. Once he found Sam's faint heartbeat, Dean let out the pent breath he'd been holding. That a boy, Sammy . . . you keep on fightin' !
Dean slammed the door shut and strode around to the driver's side and snatched the parking ticket from the front windshield. Opening his door, he slid in beside Angelina. He threw the ticket in his glove compartment, and glanced back over his shoulder at his brother.
Sam's face was contorted in pain. Blooded seeped from the corner of his lip; deep crimson in sharp contrast to his deathly pale complexion.
"Damn it!" Dean swore through clenched teeth, slamming the palm of his hand against the steering wheel.
He turned the key and gunned the engine, peeling out of the parking lot and headed back toward the forest. Back to where his brother waited for him.
I'm coming, Sammy — you just have to hold on a little longer. I'm coming.
