1989….
Shoving the multicolored paper in front of Bobby's face, Sam beamed with pride. "It's Dean, my Dad, and me… Can I drawed you too?"
"If you want, Samuel."
"Sam. Dad calls me Samuel when I get in trouble."
"Do you get in trouble a lot?"
"Nah, Dean won't let me." Sam turned towards the chair, resting almost too close to the fire place. His hand fumbled with the crayons, watching as Dean took a deep breath, resting comfortably for many hours now.
"Here….Why don't you color Dean's shirt red." Trying to keep Sam's attention off of worry, Bobby had to use all his forgotten skills with children. He hoped he could do this right since so far it had been a fiasco. Yet, at the moment, he thought he had it under control, sorta- kinda- he hoped.
"I like the Blue." He sighed. "Dean knows I like the blue."
"Knows all your favorites?"
"YEP… and his grilled cheese is the bestest!"
"I can see that."
"You have to stay in the lines!" Sam informed Bobby as he fumbled with the half broken crayon. "Dean says they're cooler like that!"
"Hmmm… Dean is pretty smart."
"The smartest. I'm going to be just like him."
"Really now?"
"Yep."
"So you like the same things?"
"No."
"So what does Dean like?
"Comics…uh…He shoots with Dad. I'm not allowed yet."
"Do you want to?"
"Sometimes. Dean says I'm too young."
"You are still a little fella. Seems like a good idea to not grow up too fast."
"I'm not little!"
"I meant you should have fun... Not worry about grown-up stuff. You want a soda."
"I like apple juice."
"Dean better wake up soon, or I'm never going to get your favorites right. Anyway, I think I'm all out of juice, but I have a Dr. Pepper in there."
Sam thought for a long moment, but Bobby put the drink in front him.
"Go on, you need to stay hydrated."
"Hy-drat…?"
"It means… uh…you need to give that fever of yours something to drink or it comes back."
"UGH! No, I thought you broke it?"
"It broke, but you can never tell." Bobby winked. "That means eating and drinking what I give ya until I say it's all clear."
"Is that why you try to make Dean drink?"
"Yep, but he is too tired to have soda like you. Guess we'll give him one when he gets up."
"Look, I drawed you!"
"That's great. Now, you can color my shirt red. I like red."
"Dean likes Black and Green!"
"Hmmm… those are good too."
"Is Dean going to awake up?"
"Yeah… he's…"
Just then a noise howled outside, sending Sam to bounce up, running for the window. "DAD!"
"It's just the wind. You want to talk about your Dad?"
"Not supposed to. He works hard."
Bobby glanced over at Dean now, much like Sam had. He hadn't figured out too much in the hours he spent with Sam, but one thing was clear- Dean was the center of this universe with all the trapping of responsibility to go along with that title. "Want to help me check on Dean?"
"Yeah! Can I?"
"Sure… come on."
As they approached Dean groaned. The leg they had elevated flinched as if it wanted to kick out against the world. However, he wasn't going to get anywhere if he wanted to fight. The tightly wrapped blanket restricted his movement, keeping him warm as he slept relatively peacefully.
The sounds of movement in the cabin caused him to stir. When he registered the sound of Sam's voice, he opened his eyes immediately. The first thing he did was look around the room for Sam, finding the man nearby, hovering over him and holding onto Sam's hand. The injured boy startled. Dean held his breath, screwed up his courage and pushed at his covering, flailing his little fists trying to break free. "You get away from him! Don't you touch my brother!" he cried out even startling Sam.
"EASY!"
He screamed, struggling as Bobby grasped him. "Leave him alone you son of a bitch!"
"Wow! What a fighter and a mouth." Noticing the anxious look, Bobby quickly attempted to alleviate his fears. "Sam's doing better. You're both going to be okay."
"GET BACK!" He readied himself for an attack, but Sam had other ideas in mind. "DEAN! Dddddeeeaaaannnnn!" There was Sam, jumping up and down. His arms out wide like he was trying to be Superman and fly. He launched at Dean, wrapping his small arms tightly around Dean's neck and breathing heavily against his shirt. Dean hugged his brother tight to him, the worry and fright bleeding out of him all in quick succession.
"You hurt anywhere?" Dean was baffled by Sam's behavior. All the giggling only confused him further.
"No. Why are you screaming? Did you have another bad dream? I'm glad you're awake. I was scared!"
Patting Sam head, Bobby smiled. "He gave us both us quite a scare."
"Guess what!! Bobby and I played checkers! I won three! Then I learned a new rastling move...then I got to drawed….." Sam bumped Dean's hurt ankle when he jumped up fully in the chair.
Dean winced, feeling the tender, stiff joint condemn him with pain, sending his breathing to shallow gasps of pain. Small beads of sweat formed on his face.
Bobby knelt down, feeling Sam's forehead. "I think you need to stop jumping before you get warm again. You need to taker' easy. You two sure are a couple of roughnecks." Sam grinned, being compared to his big brother. "Why don't you get down and then get Dean some stew, eh?"
"It's yummy. Better than yours." He informed Dean, happily, running for the table.
"Let's have a look at that ankle…." Dean's eyes followed Sam's movement. "He's fine." When he shifted the blanket away and touched the injury, Dean not only glared at him in distrust, he gasped and cried out, knocking the hand away.
"STEW!" Sam yelled, splashing some from his bowl as he handed it to Bobby.
"Good job. Go on now, get outta here, so I can have a talk with your brother." He sat the bowl down, hearing Dean's stomach growl with just a smell. Happily, Sam stopped bouncing, but he hung closer than Bobby was aware. "Thought I told you to skedaddle!"
"Don't… he didn't do anything," he sounded more confused than angry. "Don't hurt him."
Bobby raised his eyebrow at the response but said nothing more about it. "I won't hurt him.
"Sam's sick…..he needed food…."
"He's taken care of. I need to look at you."
"I don't need your help."
"You stole from me, Remember?"
"I'll pay you for it, when my Dad…"
"I don't want your money. I have something else in mind."
"Yes, sir." He said dejected, waiting for whatever consequences that came. "Don't let Sam see you punish me." Dean glanced over at Sam and smiled, really smiled.
Bobby didn't know why he felt so different after the first battle with this little boy. He suddenly felt the gush of hope brush inside him when Dean smiled. "Fine… I won't let him see…" he whispered. "Stay still and I won't let the youngin' watch." Bobby moved his uninjured hand towards his new companion
Dean's eyes closed, expecting a blow or a smack, but the pain only registered in his injury. Suddenly, he felt some one pull on his arm. When he opened his eyes, Sam had touched him, trying to take away Dean's pain with wishful thinking. He spoke louder. "Go play Sam. I'll be okay."
"I'm sorry, I know it hurts. I think it's a bad sprain, but I don't want you moving it. I don't plan on harmin' either of you boys. So you want to tell me how you boys got all the way out here?" The question wasn't answered, so Bobby continued. "Reckon your parents will be worried about you two." He gave the boy a thoughtful look.
"No, sir." Dean shrugged and looked down, trying not to cry out in pain. His ankle throbbed and the movement only made it worse.
Tough kid, Bobby thought. "How old are you?" He softened his voice, trying to connect with the boy.
"OLD!"
"Almost Nine." Sam said, peering from behind Bobby, eyes intent or watching over Dean. Neither had notice the young boy eavesdropping again.
"I'll get you boys home…if you…" Bobby tussled Sam's hair, letting him in the conversation
"Don't have one! It's gone" Dean hissed.
"Hey, what's wrong, kid?"
"It's nothing," he said softer.
"Our house burned." Sam offered innocently.
"Shut up, Sam. It's none of his business." Dean spoke with a frightened voice.
Something was wrong with that kid, and Bobby knew it had nothing to do being trapped in this cabin. "Go on and eat." He ordered. "You too, he told Sam. You're still in recovery." He held the bowl out until Dean had no choice but to take it, and then shuffled Sam off to Dean's backpack. The younger boy pointed to different items in the bag, deciding on a granola bar.
Sam stopped and gathered his drawing, all the while nibbling at the wrapper of his bar.
"Here." Bobby offered, opening and removing the plastic covering and handing it back to Sam. He paused, scuffed Sam's hair again, and smiled in amusement. When he turned back to Dean, he noticed a smile on the boy's face. He acted like he didn't notice at all, but maybe- just maybe- he could reach these boys. He might have failed his own, but now he had learned a few things. No one deserved the pain he saw in that boy's eyes a moment ago.
Before he finished his thoughts, Sam giggled and hugged Bobby's legs. Seconds later, Sam approached Dean carefully this time, wanting to be close to his big brother. His bar and drawings were clutched in his chubby paws. I made it for you! Wanna see?" Sam bounced in front of the chair. His eyes gleamed with happiness, mending health, and excitement.
Dean couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, dude"
"You like it?"
"It's awesome."
Sam smile hopefully then looked tentative.
"Don't be scared," he told Sam, watching their new found companion as he said it. Dean didn't trust any adult, except his dad. "Come on, you can sit by me."
Before he had a chance to jump, Bobby lifted him into the seat, leaving both of them alone. These boys needed time and there was way more going on. For now, it was best to let them open up on their own time. Sam had been easier to crack, but there was something about the older one that made him uneasy and still glad at the same time. Until he could figure out what it was, he would have to learn patience.
"Thanks!" Sam yelled at Bobby. The young boy nestled closer to Dean, who picked at the stew, jutting the spoon in and out before taking a bite. "Share?" He offered up his granola bar.
"Nah.. You eat… I have mine." Dean let out a sigh of relief, seeing the pinkness in Sam's face.
"Share, please?" Sam frowned, breaking off a piece, holding it out so long Dean had to take it. Sam was a quick leaner and mimicked Bobby's movements from before perfectly.
He crumbled so easily to Sam's demands. "Just this piece, deal?"
"DEAL!" Sam said in triumph, glad that he remembered to share. His hands crumbled the drawing on Dean's lap, pointing out all the cool features of his new masterpiece.
Present Day…
The electric static, stagnant of crinkling pages consumed the small office of Dr. Ng. The same worn out shuffling of Dean's chart that occurred everyday only made Sam disgusted. He couldn't believe anything new could be gleaned by reading the same damn information, day in and day out. Yet he wondered why they were called into the office as the doctor tore through the chart in front of Sam and Bobby. "I'm afraid the last scans don't show signs of improvement in his brain function. I have collaborated with colleagues and we feel it is highly likely he will not pull out of this. I wanted to prepare…"
"You don't know my brother!"
"I'm sorry…. I really hoped for better news…."
"Stop saying you're SORRYY!" Sam fumed.
"Take it easy." Bobby put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "We aren't giving up. "
"Actually, that is what I am here to tell you. I can't decide what is right for you and your family. Dean is not capable anymore of making this decision. I'm afraid that right has fallen to you and it's a decision I know that is exceptionally difficult. I presume you know him best and will know what he wants. "
"Right now the life support system is keeping him alive, functioning. We can maintain him indefinitely. But, I really believe he is in an irreversible coma."
"Nice way to say Brain dead."
"We can legally declare him clinically dead, but it's up to you to let us remove the machines. I want you to have the facts so you can do that."
"You have to know, doc, we ain't givin' up on him." Bobby confirmed.
"I understand and I'm not asking you to. I wish all my patients recovered and lead wonderful lives. I really hope Dean is one of them, but I can only give my informed opinion."
"Then, you're wrong." Sam said bitterly.
"I hope to God I am." He offered empathically. "Comas generally last a few days or at most weeks. Only a few go on to last years. I am afraid all test results are leading me to believe that Dean is going into a vegetative state."
"So because he's in a deep coma, you want to write him off."
"A deeper coma doesn't mean a lesser chance of recovery. Some people come out of deep comas, while others in mild ones never improve."
"If anyone can wake up, it's Dean." Sam said.
"When you find a test to measure that boy's stubbornness, you'll know why we can't cut him loose. What's going on with him? If you can't find any change… what damage is keeping him out?"
"The brain is a complex machine. The underlying cause of the coma is the improper functioning of the Reticular formation. It's the area of the brain that helps regulate the autonomic nervous system for such processes as respiration rate and heart rate. But it also controls our behaviors, such as sleeping, eating, consciousness, pain, walking, urination, eating."
"So Dean's stop functioning?"
"Yes and no"
"What the hell does that mean?" Sam asked.
"In most cases we see slow to no activity, but Dean's is on Mach 50. The best we can figure is the connection to translate that activity to function is broken."
