Approximately forty five minutes later, John and Sam Winchester entered the emergency room area. John sat beside his wife, who looked like she'd been hit by a truck, and held her hand. Sam sat on her other side, quiet and contemplative as he wondered what was happening to his brother. Abrielle Shurley arrived not long after, and immediately hugged her best friend.

"I'm sure Dean will be fine." She said reassuringly. Mary shook her head.

"No... I don't think so... Not this time..." She whispered as a single tear leaked from her eye and trailed down her cheek. She could not explain the horrifying knowing that came with the words. John and Sam exchanged worried looks, but said nothing.

Time passed by achingly slowly. With every passing moment Mary felt her sanity and her hope slipping away.

Finally, the wait was over.

"Mr. And Mrs. Winchester?" Called a nurse.

Mary shot up to her feet, gripping her husband's hand like a vice. The two of them followed the nurse to a Secluded room with two couches in it. A doctor with rimmed glasses, a bald head, and twinkling blue eyes sat in front of them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Winchester, my name is Doctor Gulburg. I operated on your son."

"Is he okay?" Mary asked, voice riddled with fear.

"Your son had several clots in his stomach. That's what caused the severe stomach pain."

"You got rid of them, right?"

"I did." He said. "I did."

Mary felt a qualification coming. "...But?"

"Your son has a serious disease. pseudo-obstruction motility disorder. It's a stomach disorder that doesn't let his body break down food."

Mary felt the air get knocked from her lungs. "What?" The word was breathy and almost inaudible.

"He can't keep food down, so he'll be restricted to tubal feeding for now."

"Is there a cure?" Asked John.

"...No."

Mary felt the room spinning around her. It was too stifling in the room.

"Excuse me please." She said, shooting to her feet and running to the nearby restroom, where she was violently ill.

Doctor Gulburg gave some more explanation to John before he gave him some time to process what was happening. Not wanting to think about it anymore, he went over to the heavy wood door, behind which was a single stall bathroom behind where his wife was crying.

He knocked.

"Please John... Please go away." Mary Sobbed.

"Why don't you come out, honey?" He said solemnly. "You shouldn't be by yourself right now."

"Please, I just can't be around anyone right now. I have completely failed our son." She sniffed.

"You didn't fail him." Said John.

"Of course I did! I'm his mother, I'm supposed to protect him!"

"There's no way you could have been able to protect him from this." He said gently.

She knew that logically he was right, but her heart and emotions defied any and all logic.

"Please just go..." she said.

John sighed, and started to pick the lock.

He opened the door to see his wife a crying mess on the floor. He wrapped his arms around her, and was quiet.

After twenty minutes, they both got up from the bathroom floor and made their way out of the room. The nurse took them to Dean's room. He was fast asleep. The two of them gripped each other's hands tightly, and went back out to tell Sam.

Sam had kept a sharp eye out for his parents. When he caught sight of them after a seemingly endless wait, he knew instantly it was bad. His father looked like he'd been given a cold slap of reality. Usually so strong, he seemed frightened and weary. And his mother... she looked like she'd taken a beating. Her eyes were red rimmed from crying, and she looked so weak and fragile, like a porcelain doll. Easily broken.

Sam stood up. "What happened? Is he okay?"

Mary started to cry again. John looked at her worriedly before turning to his son.

"He has a rare stomach disorder... his body can't break down food..."

"What?" Asked Sam in shock.

"He'll have to be fed through a tube..."

"Dean?" He asked, not sure if he'd heard correctly.

"Yes."

The idea dumbfounded Sam. His big brother had been killed, mauled, stabbed, shot, possessed by demons, and tortured countless times. It seemed impossible that a simple stomach disorder could incapacitate him so completely.

Abrielle pulled her best friend into a hug, guilt and sadness bubbling up inside her. She could remember when Castiel had his bout with intussusception, and how powerless she had felt. She knew her friend felt the same. She saw the dark circles under Mary's eyes. This illness was already taking a toll on her. Abrielle could swear she'd lost some weight, and she was sure Mary wasn't sleeping. She searched for the right words to say to comfort her, but she knew there weren't any.

When Abrielle let her go, Mary found herself wandering the halls back to Dean's room. She didn't want to leave him the moment she saw him, but Sam had needed to hear the truth. Now, as she entered her son's room, she knew she wasn't going to leave. She planted a kiss on her son's forehead.

"It's going to be okay sweetheart. I'm right here. Mommy's going to stay here with you."

She sat next to him and stared at him. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he was pale as a ghost. A feeding tube was in his nose, and she felt nauseous at the idea that that would become a new normal for him.

He stirred and whimpered in his sleep. Mary hushed him and kissed his forehead gently. He calmed down and she smiled a little. She could feel her husband and son staring at her, but she was too wrapped up in her son to care.

Dean's eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her blearily.

"Mommy?" He asked, confused.

"Yes sweetheart?" She asked, stroking his hair.

"Why can't I eat? I wanta eat." He murmured.

A wash of sadness came over Mary's face, and Dean looked scared suddenly. Had he made his mommy sad?

"You're sick right now, baby. Go back to sleep now. It'll be better when you wake up." She promised.

"'Kay..." he said, falling asleep once more.

As soon as she heard the quiet snores of her son, she let the tears she'd been holding back flow free.