Twenty-four hours later, they removed the ventilator and the two other Winchesters walked in to find Dean breathing by himself with only the help of a pair of clear oxygen tubes.
"We took it out a couple hours ago," Marion said. "And his lungs have been coping quite nicely actually. We'll keep a close eye on him but I have a feeling he isn't going to need to be re-intubated."
"Did he wake up at all?" Sam asked, taking a sip of coffee and staring over the Styrofoam cup at his brother. It was incredible how much better his brother looked without the large tube shoved down his throat and he definitely didn't miss the annoying hiss of the machine as it did the work of his brother's lungs.
"Not really," Marion said. "I was with him through the night but we kept him pretty sedated hoping that would make him more comfortable. I think the plan is to ease up on the sedation slowly and see how he reacts. Every day – or every couple days – we'll give him a lower dose and see how he adjusts to it."
"So just more waiting?" Sam said, trying not to sound disappointed. It hadn't even been a full week but Sam was growing frustrated and impatient by the lack of his brother's progress.
"Unfortunately," Marion said. "Keep talking to him though. And make sure you two get something to eat," she chastised. "You're both looking a little peaky these days."
"Thank you," John said.
"You gotta wake up," Sam said to his brother as he took a seat and tossed one leg over the other. "Or at least do something more exciting," he said, taking another drink.
"Sam," John half-scolded. "He'll come 'round when he's ready." But inside, he couldn't help but feel the same way. It wasn't that he wanted to rush Dean into anything and he was deeply encouraged by the absence of the ventilator, but it hard to sit there and do nothing. He couldn't wait to actually see his son open his eyes.
They sat in near silence for a couple hours, thumbing through a pile of uninteresting magazines Marion had dropped off. John was just about to take a walk when he saw someone familiar pass by the room. He stood, telling Sam he would be back and then followed the figure.
"Ellie!" he said quietly and the old woman turned, giving him a smile.
"Hello, John."
"You're still here? I thought you'd gone home." The smile drooped a little and the old woman shook her head.
"No. Liz's husband is stuck in an airport in Japan. He was on a business trip when the Japanese airlines went on strike. He doesn't know when he can get home but of course we're waiting for him. To say goodbye."
"Would you like me to sit with you?" John offered and the woman nodded.
"That would be nice. It gets lonely here."
"I know," John said. "I have Sam but he's not really talking to me at the moment. Still angry, I think."
"He'll get over it soon," Ellie said as they approached Elizabeth's bed. The woman was in the same position as a couple days ago and John picked up her hand, surprised at how cold her fingers seemed. When he let go, he made sure to tuck her hand under the blankets.
"I don't think so," John said, thinking of the rigid posture of his son as he deliberately didn't look at his father. "I messed up pretty bad. I hit him. I don't think he'll ever forgive me for that. Plus he thinks I was the one that caused Dean's accident."
"An animal attack?" Ellie said curiously. "Surely you didn't send the animal after your own son?"
"No," John said, giving her a tight-lipped smile. "But I let him go off alone and I knew it was dangerous. I knew there were wild animals in the area."
"It was just an accident," Ellie murmured. "Don't blame yourself, John, or you won't come out of this in one piece. As for Sam, he's hurting just like you. It might take him a while to realize that but he'll come around."
"I hope so."
"How's your other boy doing? Still getting better?" John sighed heavily, his shoulders lifting to he ceiling before dropping again.
"Kind of. He's off the ventilator as of this morning but they have to keep him sedated. Apparently he freaked out pretty badly when he woke up yesterday. Sam was there and I think it scared him." He bit the inside of his lower lip to keep his voice from shaking. "Are you here by yourself?" he said, changing the conversation. He didn't want to talk about the possibility of Dean waking up when there was a woman in front of him who would never open her eyes again. He couldn't imagine making the decision Ellie was making, couldn't imagine actively giving Dean up, no matter what the doctors said.
"Oh no," she said. "My husband is here." She glanced up at the clock outside the room. "He should be here any minute. He's watching Liz's little boy since the child can't come into the ICU for more than a few minutes."
"How old is he?" John asked and Ellie smiled her first real smile since she'd been in the hospital.
"Jeremy is five and he's certainly giving my husband a run for his money. I don't think Tom has moved this much in years."
"Nana!" a voice called and a second later a young boy came rushing around the age of the curtain and flung himself into the legs of his grandmother.
"Shhh," Ellie said, picking the boy up and settling him in her lap. He had sandy hair and blue eyes that gaze out at John with curiosity.
"Who's that?" he asked, pointing right in the Hunter's face. Ellie pulled his arm down to his body and hugged him tight, whispering in his ear.
"A new friend," she said. "His name is John."
"My mama's here," Jeremy told John. "She's sleeping."
"I see that," John said. "I met her a little while ago. She's very pretty." Jeremy nodded seriously.
"My mama is beautiful," he said. "But she's tired so we have to be quiet." John just then noticed an older man who was standing at the entrance of the room. He was tall, about John's height, but had considerably less hair and wore wire-rimmed glasses. John stood and reached out a hand.
"I'm John. I'm so sorry about your daughter."
"Tom. And thank you for your condolences. Sorry about the active little one." The man's face was exhausted, lines worn deep around his eyes and mouth and his expression was bottomless with grief.
"It's no problem. I've got two boys of my own. They're quite a bit older but just as much trouble."
"Are you here visiting family?" Tom said, nodding at John when the Hunter pulled up a chair for the older man.
"My son actually," John said. "He's just a few beds over. I met Ellie the first night I was here." Tom nodded, reaching for his wife's hand.
"You know," John said, an idea rushing to the front of his mind as he looked at the squirming boy and the two worn out elderly couple who were about to lose their daughter. "If you'd like someone to take Jeremy off your hands for a little bit, I know of someone who is a little bored and pretty good with kids."
"Oh no," Ellie said. "We couldn't ask you to do that."
"Really," John said. "It would be helping me out too." Tom looked at him curiously and threw up a warning hand.
"Careful, buddy. You don't know what you're getting yourself into. He's a maniac."
"No, I'm not," Jeremy said, sliding down his grandmother's legs and trying to dart out of the room before being snagged by the back of shirt.
"It's okay," John said, thinking of a certain hyperactive child that had given him a run for his money twenty years ago. "I promise to bring him back soon."
"Alright," Ellie said, watching him carefully, sizing him up to see if she could trust him with her precious grandson. Apparently, he passed her scrutiny. "We could use some time with our girl."
"I know," John said as Tom mouthed a thank you at him. "I'll bring him back in a little while. Come on, Jeremy. There's someone you should meet."
"Superman?" John chuckled as he led the boy back to Dean's bed, where Sam was sitting listlessly, his head leaned back against the wall.
"No, not Superman. This is Sam." His youngest looked over at the sound of his name, eyes glazed with detachment until he caught sight of the little boy holding onto his father.
"You're not Superman," Jeremy accused. Sam blinked.
"No, I'm not."
"Huh," Jeremy said.
"Dad, who is this?"
"This is Jeremy. I thought you could take him for a walk or a bite to eat."
"I like chicken nuggets," Jeremy said, going over to Sam and standing at his knee. Sam all but flinched away from the child, righting himself in his chair and moving away. It didn't matter; the little boy followed him as if attached by a string.
"Do you know Superman?"
"What? Why would you ask that?"
"'Cause you look big and strong and Superman is big and strong. Are you brothers with Superman?" Sam gulped and stared over the child's head, making desperate eyes at his father. But John had settled in next to Dean and didn't look as if he were going anywhere.
"Let's get chicken nuggets," Jeremy said, slipping his small hand into Sam's larger one. His little fingers nestled into Sam's palm as the older boy's hand curled instinctively around Jeremy's.
"Uh, okay," Sam said, standing. The little boy didn't even come up to Sam's hip but immediately starting leading Sam out of the room, not sparing a single glance toward the figure in the bed.
"I'll watch Dean," John promised, noticing Sam's reluctance to leave his brother. "You don't have to be gone long. But it will be good for you to get out for a bit. Get some real food. Here, have twenty dollars."
"Thanks," Sam said, letting himself be dragged from the room but surprised enough at the sudden affection to toss a glance over his shoulder at John, who was leaning over the bed and whispering something in Dean's ear.
Marion gave him a wink when she saw the two boys together and hurried over before they could leave.
"You know, there's a playground out back," she said, losing her oft-stern expression.
"Really?" Jeremy said, eyes wide. The little boy hadn't been outside for more than a few minutes at a time in days. He'd been stuck in the hospital with his grandparents who were nice but slow and his mom who wouldn't wake up.
"Yep. They have monkey bars and a big twisty slide."
"What about a see-saw? That's my favorite," Jeremy told her. Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes; of course the most annoying piece of equipment was his favorite.
"You know, last time I was out there, I'm pretty sure I saw a big green see-saw." Jeremy bounced up and down, his hand tightening around Sam's with eagerness.
"Can we go?" he asked, practically pleaded up at Sam with eyes the size of saucers. "Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease."
"Fine!" Sam said if only to get him to shut up. "We'll go after lunch. For ten minutes." Jeremy beamed and punched a tiny fist in the air.
"Yeah!"
"Alright," Marion said quickly. "You two get out of here before you wake up all the coma patients."
They wandered down the now-familiar halls toward the basement of the hospital where the cafeteria was located. Sam had only been down here once or twice but Jeremy seemed to know his way around well enough to lead him directly to a man who was serving hot dogs and, yes, chicken nuggets.
"I'd like chicken nuggets," Jeremy announced as Sam got him a tray. The man behind the counter smiled at him with an amused expression.
"You had chicken nuggets for lunch yesterday too."
"That's because they're yummy," Jeremy explained. He tilted his head up at Sam, practically craning his neck all the way to look up at the six foot four body.
"Do you want chicken nuggets too?"
"Uh, no," Sam said. He was getting nervous being this far away from Dean for this long. It was hard enough to go back to the hotel for a few hours a night but now, in the middle of the day…Dean could be waking up and Sam would be missing it. "I'm not hungry."
"Yes he is," Jeremy told the man behind the counter. "His brother is Superman so he is very hungry." He poked Sam in the hip with a stubby finger. "Mama says you have to eat to get lots of muscles. And you have lots of muscles." He turned back to the food in front of him. "I can only eat five chicken nuggets but you are much bigger so you can probably eat ten. So we need, um, how many is that?"
"That's fifteen," said the man, loading three things of chicken nuggets onto the tray. "And you are a clever little boy."
"I know," Jeremy said, waving goodbye and sliding the tray down the counter. "I need juice," he said to Sam, pointing to a shelf out of his reach.
"What?"
"Juice," Jeremy said impatiently. "Up there. Apple juice."
"Say please," Sam said automatically, waiting for the boy to mutter the word before grabbing the juice box and putting it on the tray.
"Don't you want anything?" Jeremy asked as Sam went to pay.
"Not really," Sam said. The child frowned at him as he paid the lady at the register and reached to the lowest shelf and grabbed a water, shoving it into Sam's hand who took it in surprise.
"I'll carry that," Sam said, reaching for the tray before all fifteen chicken nuggets ended up on the floor. They sat down and Jeremy started eating, biting into his lunch and staring at Sam the whole time, his legs swinging back and forth.
"You're sad," he said after his second piece of chicken had disappeared and he was licking the leftover breading off his fingers. Sam watched with mild disgust and little to no interest in what the kid was saying.
"Yeah," Sam said, shrugging.
"Why?"
Because my brother was attacked and half eaten by a demon from Hindu mythology and now's he's probably dying and also I might be starting to feel bad for hating my father all these years. I haven't had a decent shower or slept through the night in five days and haven't seen my girlfriend lately. Oh yeah and she's probably pissed at me because I haven't called her in two days.
"It's not important," Sam said because he didn't feel like explaining anything.
"Is your brother sleeping too?" Jeremy asked, dunking his third chicken nugget in ketchup.
"What?"
"My mama is sleeping in a bed upstairs. Is that why you're sad? Because your brother is sleeping and you want him to be awake?" Despite his indifference to this child and the chattering that he wished would stop, Sam felt a lump in his throat, struggling to swallow around it as it grew. Yes, he wanted his brother to wake up. That's all he wanted.
"Yeah," Sam whispered, "He's been sleeping for a long time."
"My mama too," Jeremy said in a matter of fact tone then slid off his chair and came around to Sam's side of the table. He didn't give Sam a chance to react before he was wrapping his arms around Sam's middle, pressing his sticky fingers into Sam's t-shirt and nestling his head against Sam's side.
"It's okay to be sad," Jeremy said, voice muffled against the fabric. Sam patted his head awkwardly, not sure what to do, but Jeremy just kept clinging to him and Sam found himself enveloping the boy in his own arms. He froze when he heard a sniffle but then hugged the boy tighter, pushing back the chair so he could heft the small mass of human up onto his lap.
"It's okay," Sam said, repeating the same words he'd been telling his big brother for days now, words that seemed to have no effect. Jeremy was trembling slightly now in his grasp and those sticky fingers had made their way around Sam's neck as he buried his face in Sam's chest and let out a sudden sob. "It's okay, little man," Sam said, resting his chin in the boy's hair, rubbing his back in slow methodical circles.
"I…miss…my…mama," Jeremy said, taking in a quiet gasp of air in between the words.
"I know."
"I want her to wake up."
"I know." Sam didn't know the story about the little boy's mother, didn't know that in a few days, this child would be left without his mom, raised by a single father and a pair of aging grandparents. But he wasn't about to tell the child his mom was going to wake up because Sam wasn't about to lie to the kid.
After a minute, Jeremy tilted back his tear-stained face and looked up at Sam, still not letting go of his neck.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"I know I'm a big boy now 'cause I'm five but I'm glad you're holding me." There was nothing to say because now Sam was crying just a little bit too and instead of answering, he just tucked the boy back into his chest, rocking him as much as possible in the stiff chair.
"When I was little, my brother held me just like this when I was sad," Sam said quietly, one hand still rubbing circles. Jeremy let out hiccupping sob and then shuddered against his new friend. "And it made me feel a lot better. So I'll hold you as long as you want."
The little boy stayed curled in his lap for another few minutes, forehead on Sam's collarbone. He wasn't loud as he cried like the other children Sam had been around. In fact, the tears came mostly silently; their only sign of existence was a slight quivering and the fact that Sam's t-shirt was a lot wetter now than it had been five minutes ago.
"Do you want some juice?" Sam asked when it seemed like the worst of the tears had passed. Jeremy nodded and Sam kept one arm wrapped protectively around the child as he leaned forward to grab the juice box, nudging the boy off his shoulder and holding the box steady as he took a drink.
"Is your brother Superman?"
The words came a minute later, and were barely a whisper, mumbled into the crook of Sam's shoulder.
"To me he is," Sam said back, thinking about the answer carefully before going on. "He is strong and has big muscles like you said but he's also very kind and always tries to do the right thing, no matter what. And his favorite thing in the world to do is help people." Jeremy pulled away and looked Sam dead in the eye, his dark eyelashes wet with tears, the blue of his eyes even brighter than before.
"Like when he held you when you were crying?"
"Yes," Sam said. "Just like that. He's the best big brother ever."
"Then why is he sleeping? Can't he make himself better with his powers?"
"Sometimes even superheroes get hurt. He went to sleep to try and heal himself." Sam thought for a moment; trying to explain something so complicated in simple terms wasn't easy. "Do you play video games?" Jeremy nodded.
"I have a GameCube. I got it for my birthday."
"Well you know how sometimes you run out of juice and you have to wait a little bit before you can play again? That's how superheroes work. They run on juice and when it's all gone, they have to rest up before they can save more people."
"That makes sense," Jeremy said, twisting in Sam's arms. He thought the kid might be trying to get off his lap but instead he just turned himself around and grabbed at the chicken nuggets on the table, holding one out to Sam.
"You can have one of mine," Jeremy said and Sam took the gift, surprised to find how hungry he was now that food was literally under his nose. He ate the chicken in one bite and his stomach immediately rumbled for more, which Jeremy produced. They sat together until all the chicken nuggets were gone and then they left the cafeteria, Jeremy perched on Sam's hip after shrugging and looking up at Sam with a doleful expression.
"I don't wanna walk. Will you carry me?" And Sam said yes, remembering all the times Dean had carried Sam even though he was only four years older. All the times Sam had ridden piggyback, watching the world bounce by from over the top of his brother's head.
"Can we go back upstairs?" Jeremy asked.
"You don't want to go to the playground?" Sam said.
"No. I'm too tired." So Sam walked them both back upstairs where they met Marion at the nurse's station.
"Did you find the see-saw?" she asked and Jeremy shook his head.
"We were a little too tired for outside," Sam explained.
"And I wanted to meet Superman," Jeremy told the nurse with certainty. When Marion glanced at Sam with a question in her eyes, he shook his head minutely and then walked over to Dean's room.
"We have to be quiet," Sam reminded the boy. "Because he's sleeping."
"So he can get his powers back," Jeremy said and Sam nodded.
"Hey boys," John said as they walked back in. His looked rather taken aback to find the five-year-old in Sam's arms but said nothing about it.
"Can I say hi to Superman?" Jeremy asked shyly. "Sam said I could."
"Uh, sure," John said, confused. Sam set the boy on his feet but held his hand as they walked over to the bed. He carefully lowered the bedrails so Jeremy could see, then knelt beside the child.
"His real name is Dean," Sam said quietly.
"Hi, Dean," Jeremy squeaked, looking rather awestruck even though Dean had done nothing but lie there. Sam tried to see his brother the way the five year old did, tried to see past the scrapes and bruises and tubes and wires to the man underneath. The man who had wrapped his arms around Sam more times than he could count. The man that selflessly put himself in between monsters and their victims. When Sam was fourteen, he'd witnessed his brother running full on into a burning building. That's the Dean that Jeremy was seeing, the one who could do anything and everything.
The one with the superpowers.
"I think you're really cool," Jeremy said, reaching out and gently touching Dean's face before Sam could stop him. His small hand cupped Dean's chin and then he snatched it away as Dean made a noise.
"What's wrong?" Jeremy said, whipping his head to Sam. John leaned forward as Dean continued to make more noises and flex his fingers of the hand nearest him.
"He's saying how cool he thinks you are." Sam cocked his head as if deciphering Dean's meaningless gurgles. "And he thinks you're very brave." Jeremy turned wide eyes back on Dean.
"He said that?" the little boy whispered. Sam nodded and Jeremy reached out his hand again, this time laying just a finger one Dean's arm and tracing it all the way down to his wrist where he let it trail off onto the sheets. Then he stood on tiptoe to get as close to Dean's ear as possible with Sam holding onto his waist so he didn't topple over onto the bed.
"Thanks, Superman," Jeremy said in a conspiratorial whisper. "I hope you get better real fast and can start saving people again. When I grow up, I want to be just like you."
Both John and Sam's eyes were glassy as the little boy rocked back on his heels and stared at his hero, more in awe than he had been in his entire life.
xxx
It felt like Dean had been fighting the pain-creature for a long time. The creature came in intervals, must have had him locked up somewhere and only came by when it needed to feed. He hadn't been able to figure out what it was yet because he was having problems running two consecutives thoughts together. As soon as he tried, the words and images evaporated right out of his mind. What he knew was that when the pain-creature was gone, Dean felt trapped in a tight space, so tight he couldn't move an inch, couldn't even open his eyes. Normally it would have freaked him out – he'd always been a tad claustrophobic – but it didn't bother him now. Maybe it was something in the creature's venom or maybe this was just part of dying. He almost couldn't bring himself to care and sometimes he even tried to die, tried to focus enough on slowing his heartbeat to the point where it just stopped. It didn't work.
When the creature came was the worst because it would start slow, slinking it's way through the darkness, licking at the sore muscles in Dean's back and shoulders, sending a white hot heat up the right side of his face. Dean would try in vain to fight back but the most he could manage was a subtle twitching of his fingers, a useless weapon in any battle. Then the pain-creature would start on Dean's stomach and chest, raking its claws across him and sinking teeth in for a bite or two. That's when Dean's voice came back and he managed to scrape out growls and whines, nothing particularly menacing. The creature didn't even seem to notice him.
At least when the pain came, Sam often heard his brother and father speaking to him. He knew it was a complete delusion, a desperate attempt for his tortured mind to find some peace in this horrific situation. They whispered things to him. Sometimes nice things like it's okay, Dean and just be strong and keep on fighting. But at other times it was almost like they wanted him to die because they would say things like shhh Dean, stop struggling and it's for the best, Dean and you have to calm down or you'll make it worse.
He was so damn confused.
There was no way that his real Dad and Sam would ever tell him to give up so Dean kept fighting, kept struggling even though the other voices told him not to. It was just a trick to get him to die faster and even though he longed for Death at moments, Dean really didn't want to die.
The next time the pain-creature came, a different voice broke through the agony. Up until now, he'd only heard his family's voices, but this one was different.
Hi, Dean.
He groaned as the creature danced on his chest but his ears were listening for that small voice. He'd never heard it before and it made him curious.
I think you're really cool.
Ha, Dean thought. Not if you could see me, you wouldn't. God knows what I look like right now. A sweaty, bleeding, starving-to-death mess. He tried to explain, tried to hum out the words but they got stuck in his throat and simple noises came out instead.
What's wrong?
What wasn'twrong?
He's saying how cool he thinks you are. And he thinks you're very brave.
Sam! That was Sam talking; he'd know that voice anywhere. He wanted to shout out but as always, he was trapped beneath the floor and the creature as it continued it's attack, ripping through him as if there was anything left of him to rip apart. Then the little voice from before was back. It was closer than before, as if someone was in this hellhole with him. He really hoped there wasn't, for their sake.
Thanks, Superman. I hope you get better real fast and can start saving people again. When I grow up, I want to be just like you.
A/N: One of my favorite chapters so far! What did you guys think?
