Disclaimer - i own nothing, as usual.

Thank you all for the lovely reviews. Thanks to every one who has put this story as a favorite or alert! Hope you all like it!

By the way, the lyrics are from the song "when angels fly away," by "Cold

Chapter 8

The doctor sighed again,

"Time of death 10:41 am."

The doctor put the paddles on the trolley to his left. He pushed the cart away angrily. It rolled a short distance before coming to a short stop.

"I guess," he said to the nurse who eyed him warily,"I guess I'd better tell this guys family."

The nurse paused. Her hand was outstretched, inches away from the switch on the respirator. It's screen showed a thin horizontal line. The noise was monotone and

depressing. It was like a reminder of how modern medicine had failed the young man on the bed.It echoed around the room.

"What's the matter," asked the young nurse. She could sense the doctors hesitance and sorrow at the loss of the patient. He seemed hesitant to leave his spot beside the

young mans bed. He watched the respirators screen as though he hoped the line would jump and move.

"He was my age," muttered the doctor. "He was my age. He had a family and a life. He had hobbies and relationships, just like me. Now he does not"He shook his head

and frowned. The nurse reached out her hand across the bed. He glanced over, surprised at the gesture. He took her hand in his own. He squeezed appreciatevly. She

smiled,

"Be thankful the rest of the guys family made it. Two out of three is not bad, especially in his circumstances. Take your victories were you can find them, that is my

motto."

"Try telling that to him," he nodded toward Dean. The heart machine continued in the background. The nurse scrunched her face in disguist, "Thats awful!"

The doctor blinked, unfazed by her reaction, "I know. When something gets to close, make a bad joke or comment and it will all go away. Why is it affecting me like

this? I see death all the time, why is he so different?" He watched Dean for a few seconds. The guy was normal. Why was this affecting him like this?Deans mouth was

slightly open from the tube down his throat. His face was pale and ashen. His hair hung limply around his face. The nurse looked at him speculatively. He looked

peaceful and tried to take a little comfort in that.

"Life is short.Working around here you should know that." She reached over and turned off the respirator. The noise was cut off immediately. "Death is a part of life.

The quicker you accept that, the happier you will be."

Dean Winchester woke up with a cough. Both the doctor and nurse took a protective step back. Deans eyes flew to the doctor and then nurse as he realised were he

was. He quickly assesed the situation. Given the fact that these two were both looking at him as though he had six heads- he guessed that they could see him. This did

not bode well for Sam. He was afraid for his little brother. In all of his life Dean could onlyremember three times which he was really afraid. The first time had been

when his brother was six months old. The second had been when he was lying on the floor of that cabin. And now, made three. Dean did not like the emotions his fear

aroused. Emotions get people killed. He swore that Sammy would not be one of them. He swore to himself,

"Sammy will be okay. No matter what. He will be okay."

"If he is still alive..." He pushed that thought from his head.

He thrashed on the bed, trying to get up. He could not though, due to the tube down his throat.

"Stupid fucking medicine!No wonder I fucking avoid these places"

The doctor and nurse froze, each unsure of what to do. "Fuck," whispered the doctor, shocked. The nurses hand had flown to her mouth. She was terrified. As Dean

continued to cough and thrash on the bed, their inbuilt instincts kicked in. The doctor laid his two hands on Deans flailing arms. His grip was strong.

"Restraints," he barked at the nurse. She stared at Dean shocked. "RESTRAINTS," he barked again. He was afraid his patient was going to hurt himself again. He was

damned sure that he was not going to lose this guy twice in one day. Dean stopped moving at the second shout. He lay immobile under the grip of the doctor. The

doctor understood the gesture immediately- no restraints. He nodded. He sighed as he looked at the wide eyed nurse. She was frozen in fear. He sighed as he realised

that he would not get any more help from her.

"Okay, no restraints" The doctor flipped out a torch from his coat pocket. He shone his light into Deans eyes. They were desperate and strangely expressive.

Dean yelled. His words were inaudible due to the tube down his throat.

"Calm down Sir. You were in an accident. Your family is fine. You gave us quite a scare, but you need to settle down or you will hurt yourself." The doctor did not

remove his hands from Deans chest. Dean stoppedshouting. He looked from the hands holding him back to the doctors face. Deans mouth began to move, despite the

tube down his throat. He was watching the doctor. HIs lips continued to move. The doctor got the impression he was trying to tell him something.

"You should not try to talk." He leaned his head a little unconsciously. It was all Dean needed. His dad had always taught him to use whatever was available to him to

get out of trouble. Right now, his hands were out of commission and his legs were useless. That left his head. He steeled himself for the pain. He threw his head up. It

connected with the doctors with a dull thud. Pain erupted in his temple. The doctor gave a surprised omph. His grip dissapeared as the doctor fell to the floor. Dean

smiled. "Chump" he thought satisfied.

He scrunched up his face. He repeated "Rons" actions from earlier. He pulled the tube out of his throat. As much as he hated the noise of it earlier, it was nothing

compared to the feeling. It was like retching only a million times worse. He tasted the coppery tang of blood. He spat it out. He barely spared the nurse a glance (she

was still comatose anyway). He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He wiggled his toes. His feet brushed the doctor who lay in a heap on the floor. He gingerly put

his feet onto the floor. He took a few unsteady paces before he broke into a run.

"I'll make a soldiers decision to fly away

Load my gun, paint my face, call me misery

I can see the sky light up and the ground explode

Got my sights locked in i can see you breathe

Then i watched you fall and somebody scream

Its the saddest thing when angels fly away

I cant be home tonight, i'll make it back its allright

Dean vaguely heard the words of the song as he passed. The noise faded into the distance as he sprinted to the room he knew Sammy was in. He marvelled, as he ran,

of the normality around him. He could have sworn that he heard someone talk about a nail appointment they would or would not take.How could anyone be so self

absorbed? Lives were on the line! He pushed a guy, whom he assumed was a doctor because of the white coat, out of his way. He ignored the shout of protest thrown

after him

He wheeled to a stop at the door. He tried to open it, but it was locked. He jiggled the handle.

"Sam?" he yelled at the top of his voice. He ignored the looks he was getting. "Sammy?I am coming!"

He shoved his shoulder into the door but it would not budge. He repeated the action a couple of times. He grunted in frustration. He dropped to his knees. "Sammy?"

He looked in the keyhole.

"Shit." Dean could see black smoke. The room was thick with it. It was so thick that he could not see his little brother. He got to his feet. He backed up a step. He

arched his leg and thumped the door as hard ashe could. He ignored the shout of protest he could hear from up the corridor. His entire thoughts were focused on what

was going on behind that door. He kicked three more times, each time with as much force as he could manage. The door, a thin plywood, crumbled under the force.

With the next kick, Deans foot went through the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see people gathering. People, security he assumed,

were coming towards him. The crazy guy kicking doors down in the intensive care ward. He forced his hand through the hole he had made. He turned the key on the

other side of the door. When it clicked, he brought his hand back through. Dean shoved the door open. The room was clear of the black smoke. There were two

bodies on the floor. One was a man, who was positioned ackwardly. Like he had just collapsed and had no time to straighten out. The other-

"Sammy." Deans voice was strangled. Dean dropped to his feet and slid across the floor. Sam lay with his head resting on his arm. Dean put his fingers on Sams neck,

desperately searching for a pulse. He scooped Sam up by the shoulders. He pulled Sams head and shoulders onto his lap.

"No, no, no,no, no, no, no." Dean could not find a pulse.

"Please,please," he begged Sam.

"HELP!" he yelled. He thought he saw a figure in the doorway. He did not bother to look up,

"HELP. WE NEED HELP!" The figure disappeared.

Sams eyes were closed. Dean felt his eyes water as he rocked Sam, "You stupid stupid boy." He gently chastited him. "Why did you do this?"

Dean could hear footsteps. "Sammysammysammysammysammy," he cried quietly,"You can not die on me. Please.".

The room was flooded with doctors and nurses. Dean laid Sammy down on the floor, "You will be okay now," he whispered. He slid back and sat against the wall. The

doctors set their equipment down beside Sam.

They began to examine Sam and shout things to each other that made no sense to Dean. He watched, regardless. He ignored the nurses gentle, "Maybe you should wait

outside." He stood his ground, or rather, sat in it. Heaven nor hell could have moved him at that minute. The doctors began CPR on Sam. He watched them as they

massaged his chest, trying to force air back into his lungs.

Dean watched Sam, willing him to open his eyes. A few minutes passed. Sam did not open his eyes. Dean took his gaze off his little brothers face for a second as he

realised that the doctors were stopping the CPR. The oxygen mask was lifted from Sams face.

He was confused. Sam was not okay yet. Why were they stopping? Had he missed some vital information- where they taking Sammy down to surgery or something?

"What?" he asked the group of doctors assembled around Sam. One turned and looked at him. He glanced back at another doctor who nodded.

"Sir, I am afraid that we were unable to get your-" he looked at the same doctor from before. He mouthed brother. "-brother's heart beating again."

"No no no," Dean shook his head, "YOu need to keep doing the CPR thing to get his heart started again then he will be fine." Deans tone was confident. He looked f

rom doctor to doctor and saw identical expressions of pity.

"There is nothing more we can do,"

"No."

"His heart stopped beating for too long,"

"No," Dean was more desperate.

"I am sorry. There probably was no pain"

"No." Deans voice had dropped to a whisper.

"Your brother is dead."

Dean absorbed the words of the doctor. Dean watched Sam. Everything else fell away. Dean Winchester did not speak again.

tbc

this should be done soon. I hope you like this part of the story