I don't own Sam or Dean or John or the Impala or Supernatural…..that's all the CW. So if they would be very kind to let me borrow it all for a bit, I promise to give it back….eventually…..well, maybe. Also, I lack an editor, so any mistakes are mine and please kindly overlook them (or let me know). Thanks.
Sam is 16 and Dean is 20.
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John placed his son on the bed and pulled the blanket up. Dean sat down next to his brother and wiped the blood from Sam's mouth.
"He'll wake up, right?" Dean rested on hand in the center of Sam's chest, just to feel his shallow, labored breathing.
Dean turned to John when he didn't get an answer.
Pastor Jim stepped into the room. "He should, but it's too soon to say anything for certain." He stepped near Sam's bed. "Dean."
Dean stood and took a step away from the bed. Pastor Jim sat next to Sam. He dabbed two fingers in holy water and carefully pressed them to Sam's arm. Nothing happened and everyone could breathe a small sigh of relief. At least the purification worked. Jim took a simple rosary from his pocket and rested the cross in Sam's hand. He folded the boy's fingers around it and wrapped the beads around his wrist.
Sam hadn't so much as moved through all of it, not on his own accord anyway. His breath rattled in his chest like when he had pneumonia a few years back and his fever still held. He looked so young, so helpless. It was easy to forget that not even a week ago he was fighting against John's rules and regulations, that a week ago he had managed to beat Dean in sparring a few times.
Jim stood again so that Dean could take his place at Sam's side. He knew better than to suggest Dean get some sleep. Dean had spent the past sixteen years taking care of his brother and he wasn't about to let someone else take over now. John stood leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes locked on his boy.
"John." Jim's voice was quiet. "He's doing all right, all things considered."
A muscle worked in his jaw. "You're sure?"
"He wouldn't be able to have that rosary touch his skin if I wasn't." Jim rested his hand on John's shoulder. "You boy is alive, John. He's right there. Let's go get some coffee."
John slumped some. "Can you make it strong?" He managed a weak smile.
"Certainly."
John took a step towards Dean and gripped his shoulder. "There's a damp cloth on the nightstand. I trust you can take care of Sam for a bit while I talk with Pastor Jim?"
Dean nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Good boy."
John and Pastor Jim left the room. Dean reached for the cloth and gently wiped the blood away from Sam's fingers. The blood from when Sam had nearly shredded his hands trying to grab the rough wood of the floor. Dean worked slowly and carefully so as not to cause Sam any more pain, just in case he could feel it. Sam would have bruises up and down his back and across his ribs later, but he was alive. All he had to do now was wake up, then the knot of fear and anxiety lodged just behind Dean's ribs would finally fade away.
Dean tossed the cloth back onto the nightstand and brushed Sam's hair away from his face. He felt for fever in the same motion and tugged the blanket a little higher over Sam's chest.
Not long after that, Jim stepped into the room. He placed a mug filled with ice chips and a spoon on the nightstand. He didn't say a word, just cupped his hand along Sam's jaw for a moment and squeezed Dean's shoulder. He left the two Winchester boys alone.
Dean knew that they were within twenty-four hours of Sam going to the hospital if he didn't wake up and drink something soon. Ice chips could only do so much and with the fever, he was already on the edge of dehydration. Dean slipped an ice chip between Sam's cracked lips and smiled a little as he watched his brother involuntarily swallow.
"You know, Sammy." Dean shifted closer to his brother. "It's pretty damn boring just sitting here waiting for you to wake up. I mean hell, I think even dad is starting you miss you talking back to him." He swallowed and looked away for a minute. "Please, Sammy. Just wake up."
John and Jim sat at the kitchen table. Mugs of strong coffee steamed in front of them. A clock ticked on the wall behind John.
"Thanks, Jim." John's voice was rough and his eyes were on his coffee.
"You know I'd do anything for those boys."
He nodded once. He was exhausted, but knew sleep was a long way away. He just wanted to know his son would wake up, wanted to know they weren't too late, wanted to know that he wouldn't lose anything else he loved. He wouldn't rest until he knew.
Jim stood, pulled something from a cupboard and poured a little whisky into John's coffee cup.
"It's not even ten o'clock, yet." John looked up and almost smiled.
"Don't worry about the details." Jim sat back down. "This is far from over and done, John. Sam just needs time to wake up, he's been through a lot."
John nodded again, he knew that, but it didn't help anything. "Did you think it would work?"
Jim straightened slightly. "I had faith it would."
"That's not what I asked."
"The odds weren't in our favor, but your son is alive and upstairs." Jim took a slow breath. "Give your boy some time and he'll come back to you."
John took a drink of his coffee and rested his head in his hands.
"Go grab a few hours sleep."
He shook his head. "Not until I know Sam's all right." He muttered.
As much as Jim wanted to argue that Sam would need his dad when he did wake, he knew it was useless. The Winchesters were stubborn if they were nothing else.
Jim stood. "I'll put a more comfortable chair in Sam's room, then." He left John at the table.
Jim quietly moved a small armchair into a corner of the room. Dean was still sitting on the edge of the bed. He glanced over at Jim for a moment and then returned his attention back to Sam.
"How's he doing?" Jim rested his hand on Dean's shoulder.
Dean lifted the mug of ice slightly. "Got about half of this into him."
"Good. Do you need anything?"
He shook his head and put the mug on the nightstand. John came into the room just as Jim was leaving. He took the chair in the corner of the room and Jim left the family alone.
Pastor Jim brought up a few sandwiches for John and Dean a few hours later. John was asleep in the chair, his journal open on his lap. Dean had stretched out at the end of Sam's bed, his hand over his brother's shin. Without making a sound, Jim left the room and figured lunch could wait a while.
Dean was awake the instant he felt Sam move. In all honesty he didn't even remember falling asleep.
"Sammy?"
-ff-
This one was short, sorry about that, and difficult to write due to the way I want the chapters to fit in with the plot. I know there wasn't much action, but it seemed like everyone just needed a bit of a break. I'll try and get the next chapter up in not too much time, probably just one more. Thank you all for reading, your comments are wonderful and definitely keep me writing.
