Chapter 11: Two Weeks Later
In the two weeks after the intervention in which Dean was threatened by Ellen twice and taught a lot by Jo, Dean had not tried to kill himself again. He took Ellen's threats seriously. He had gone through several more depressed patches, but nothing a little time to think couldn't cure. He made sure to be cheerful around Sam, and sometimes even around John, but he felt more open to John. Around Sam, he thought he had to have a strong front up to keep him from worrying. Mostly, he kept getting nervous about the surgery. He was afraid something would go wrong. And in all truth, he didn't want to die. About a week before the surgery, Dean had practically given John a heart attack. John had tried to wake Dean up, but the kid wouldn't move. He tried everything. Shaking him, pouring water over his head, loud noises, Sam jumping on the bed, and nothing worked. He was going to call an ambulance when another idea came to mind. He walked over to Dean's bed, grabbed the matress, and turned it over. Dean had screamed at him because he hit his head on the wall. But hey, at least he woke up.
"Clear!" the doctor shouted as the heart monitor flatlined. The body on the table lurched upward before flatlining again. "Clear!" Still nothing, "Clear! Come on, kid. Come on. Charge to two hundred. Clear!" Finally, they got his heart beating again.
"Don't do that to me again, Dean," the doctor whispered to the sleeping boy, "Scared the shit out of me."
He continued the procedure with extreme caution, careful to make sure Dean's heart didn't stop again. Once he'd finished, he had a nurse take Dean back to his room.
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John paced the floors impatiently, waiting for the doctor to come tell him what happened. He kept biting his knuckles and they were starting to turn red. Sam sat in one of the chairs with Trista, playing Sticks.
A/N For those who didn't know, Sticks is where you start out with just your pointer out. Your opponent taps one of your hands and you add to your amount the amount you were hit with. When one of your hands hits five, it's automatically out. The person to get both of their opponent's hands out, wins.
"I win again, Sammy," Trista said, "Time for you to quit?"
"No, let's play again."
"But, Sam, I'm bored of that game. Please, let's play something else?"
Sam gave her the puppy dog face and even whimpered for extra dramatic effect. She turned her head away, but her eyes kept glancing over at his pitiful face.
"Fine!" she caved.
Sam smiled and started the game over again.
"John, I wish we could meet for some better news," the doctor said, "I seem to meet you here for something bad everytime."
"What?! What happened to Dean?!"
"Oh, Jesus. No, that's not what I meant. I meant, I'm beginning to think you're just coming here to have something done. Dean's fine. I didn't mean for it to sound like that. I'm sorry."
"Okay. Okay, thanks. Is he awake?"
"No, he's still pretty out of it. But he's fine. I do have some bad news, however."
"What?"
"The spot on his back, the reason it was so swollen was some of his nerves were damaged in the crash. We tried to repare them, but they were too dead to do much. Those nerves kept the feeling in his legs. They were so close together, that when he was relaxed and nothing hit the bruise, he could still operate his legs. Unfortunately, they were becoming infected, so we had to take them out. There's a good chance Dean may never walk again."
A/N I never claimed to be good with health, so chances are these facts are wrong. PLEASE DON'T CORRECT ME ON THEM!!!!!
"But he's fine?"
"Yes. Perfectly fine."
"Good, that's all that matters to me."
"Okay. You can go see him if you like. He may be asleep, but at least you can be there when he wakes up, right?"
"Yeah, thank you."
Sam and Trista followed John back to Dean's room and John smiled. Dean was lying on his back with Michelle's ring on his finger, and her music box by his side. There were two pies and a vase full of roses from Alice.
"Dad?" Dean said. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled, "Hey, there, Sammy-boy!"
"Dean!" Sam said, running forward, "How are you feeling, man?"
"Like a train ran straight through my head. Major headache and I'm tired. Other than that, I feel like I could fly. Or at least kick your ass."
"Jerk."
"Yeah, I know."
"So, Alice brought you some pies, huh?" John asked.
"Yeah, she said she had to come visit her brother. He broke his leg and they needed to keep him here for his checkup which he's missed over the past eight years."
"Oh. Interesting."
"Yeah, she said to tell you hi and she'll probably stop by later."
"God help us if she brings more pie."
Trista sat next to Sam and smiled at Dean, "You look like crap, Dean."
"Good to see you, too, Trist."
"Well, you know. When is it not?"
"Conceited much?"
"Don't you know it."
Sam laughed, "Well, at least you're okay, right?"
"Do you want me to die?"
"NO!!" John and Sam yelled.
"Thought so."
"Don't do that, Dean!" John said.
Dean laughed and then his face turned serious again, "So, did they tell you?"
"What?"
"That I may never walk again?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry, Dean."
"What if I don't walk again? How can I hunt if I can't walk?"
"We'll figure something out, Dean. I promise."
"Yeah," Sam agreed, "Even if we have to tie you to Dad's back, we'll figure something out."
"Well, it'd give a whole new meaning to 'Watch my back.'"
"This is true," John laughed, "But I don't think I could carry you around everywhere, Dean."
This sentence brought silence to the room. Dean didn't want to give up hunting just because of his back. He had nothing else to do with Michelle gone, and if it all came down to it, he would try hunting from his wheelchair. Either way, he was determined not to stop.
A/N This wasn't how I was going to end this chapter, but I have no idea how else to do it. I'm running low on chapter titles, so from now on the only thing at the top of the page is going to be the chapter number. AUSSIE SMILES!!!!!!!!!! (that's my logo)
