When the Cradle Falls


Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Day the Music Died


Catching himself on the door frame of the room, Sam had finally found his brother, who was bloodied and bruised, in a hospital bed, attached to various tubes and wires.

"Oh no," he intoned helplessly, listening to the soulless heart rate monitor, weakly beeping. They had been hit by a demon in a semi truck, and then airlifted to the nearest hospital, where the family had been separated. Only now, had Sam been discharged, that he finally found his brother.

"Your father's awake, you can see him if you like," a doctor said, entering the room, standing on the other side of the doorway, watching Sam carefully.

Relieved to hear John was alive and alright, Sam only allowed himself a moment of peace. "Doc...what about my brother?"

"Well...we won't know his full condition until he wakes up. If he wakes up."

Sam paled. "If?"

The doctor nodded, steeling himself for what was going to be a difficult conversation. "I have to be honest, most people with his degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. He's fighting very hard. But you need to have realistic expectations." The doctor nodded to Sam. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you better news."


Just as the doctor said, John was in much better shape than Dean. He was propped up in bed, one arm in a sling. Although his face was battered and bruised, at least he was conscious. Reaching into his wallet, he handed Sam a card. "Here. Give 'em my insurance."

"Elroy McGillicutty?"

John smirked slightly. "And his two loving sons. So...what else did the doctor say about Dean."

Sam gave a small smile. "Nothing. Look, the doctors can't do anything. We had to do it. That's all. I'll find a hoodoo priest or something and lay some mojo on him."

John nodded. "We'll look for someone. But Sam?"

"What?"

John sighed. "I don't know if we're gonna find anyone."

Sam shook his head, refusing to even fantasize the notion that there wasn't anything out there that could save Dean.

Seeing Sam wasn't going to listen to him, John changed the subject. "I'll check under every stone Sam...where's the Colt?"

Outraged, Sam took a step towards the hospital bed. "Your son is dying and you're worried about the damn Colt?"

"Look, Sam, we're hunting this demon and it may be hunting us too. That gun may be our only card."

Relenting, Sam told his father the Colt was in the car, which had been towed to a junkyard near the highway, and that Bobby was on his way to pick it up.

With a list of ingredients for what Sam thought was protection, John convinced him to meet Bobby at the car, so they could grab anything out of the trunk they didn't want anyone taking.


Sam met Bobby at the entrance of the junkyard, the older man pulling him into a tight hug. "You had me worried, you idjit. I'm glad you're okay," Bobby said, once the two of them pulled away.

"It's good to see you, Bobby," Sam said, relieved to see the old family friend.

"How's your daddy? And Dean?"

"My dad'll be fine. A little banged up, but he'll be fine."

Bobby nodded. "Glad to hear that stubborn bastard is alright. And Dean?" He prompted again.

Sam tried to make himself not look as devastated as he felt, but it was a poor charade. "He has cerebral edema-swelling in the brain. Doctors said they can't do anything for him until he wakes up...if he wakes up," Sam said, using the doctor's words. Shrugging like it was nothing, he glanced around the sunny yard, searching for the Impala.

Bobby sighed, feeling his heart break at Dean's condition. He could tell how hard Sam was trying to hold it together right now. It didn't seem fair all the shit that had been thrown at him in the past year.

"Do we need to call Alice?" Bobby asked, quietly.

Whipping his head to Bobby, Sam frowned at him, quizzically. "Why would we do that?"

Bobby shrugged, looking down at the ground. "Well...if things are as bad as you say, shouldn't she get a last chance to see him if-"

"He's not gonna die!"

Bobby held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay. Okay. But, don't you think she should know what's going on?"

Sam shook his head resolutely. "No. She's got enough to worry about right now."

"Sam-"

"Bobby, you didn't see her the last time Dean was dying. I'm not gonna do that to her again. And Cara and Noah...I'm not gonna let them visit their dad in the hospital a second time. Dean's gonna be fine. I'll find a way. Just...please, don't call her. Please, Bobby?"

"Fine. But you better know what you're doing, boy."


Seething in rage, Sam had returned from the junkyard. He had seen the traumatic state of the Impala, and how mad Dean was gonna be when he say it, if he ever woke up-stop it, Sam, stop acting like Dean's already dead, he scolded himself.

Entering John's room, Sam kept his back to his father. If he looked at John, Sam knew he was going to lose his shit.

"You're quiet," John observed.

Nerves grated by John's attitude, Sam spun and threw the bag down onto the bed. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

"What are you talking about?" John asked, playing dumb.

Ever more pissed off at how childishly John was treating him, Sam laid into him. "That stuff from Bobby. You don't use it to ward off a demon. You use it to summon one. You're planning on bringing the demon here, aren't you? Having some stupid macho showdown?!"

"I have a plan, Sam," John explained calmly.

Sam pointed an accusatory finger at him. "That's exactly my point! Dean is dying and you have a plan! You know what, you care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own son!"

"Do not tell me how I feel, I am doing this for Dean!"

Sam scoffed. His father really was unbelieveable. "How is your revenge gonna help him? It's the same selfish obsession"

"You know, it's funny. I thought it was your obsession too! This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend, threatened your niece and nephew. You begged me to be a part of this hunt. Now if you'd killed the damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened."

"It was possessing you, Dad. I would have killed you too!"

"Yeah, and Cara and Noah wouldn't have to grow up without a father."

Disgusted, Sam retracted, like he had been shocked. He hated John using those two as leverage. "Don't act like you give a damn about those two kids. You met them once. And what? You were drunk off your ass the entire time? Do you have any idea how badly those two wanted to meet you? And you just let them down." Sam paused for a moment. "You know what? You can go straight to hell."

Quick to fire back, John continued. "I should have never taken you along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake. I knew I was wrong-"

A full glass of water that was on the bedside table, was suddenly flung across the room, shattering against the opposite wall.

John and Sam only had a second before a herd of nurses and doctors were shouting, running down the hallway.

"Something's going on out there," John said, indicating Sam to follow the commotion.

Slipping into the hallway, Sam watched in horror as the medical staff were running towards Dean's room. "No, Dean, no," Sam whispered, sprinting to the door, to see the team attempting to resuscitate Dean, someone yelling there was no pulse.

Feeling his legs begin to feel heavy, Sam once again braced himself against the doorway, silently praying to whatever or whoever would listen.

"I said get back!"

Looking around the room, Sam was almost certain he'd heard…

"We have a pulse. We're back into sinus rhythm."

With a feeling of relief, Sam slumped, but still, there was a wiggling feeling in his brain that he couldn't shake, like there was someone standing right beside him he couldn't see.


Quietly stepping into the room, Sam looked around carefully, another bag in his arms. The feeling that someone had been standing beside him hadn't gone away, and he had began to wonder if that someone was in fact in brother. "Hey, Dean. I think maybe you're around. And if you are, don't make fun of me for this. But um, well, there's one way we can talk."

Sitting down in the middle of the room, he pulled a ouija board, and stared at it with a bittersweet memory. "You uh, you remember when we were at that faith healer, and Alice asked us if we used ouija boards? We laughed at her like she was crazy. But I guess we're the crazy ones now." He swallowed, and placed two fingers on the planchette. "Dean. Dean are you here?"

Sam swallowed in expectant, worried concentration, gasping as the planchette slowly moved over "YES", indicating he was not alone, as he had suspected.

Beginning to laugh in relief, Sam felt some of his muscles relaxing. "It's good to hear your voice man. It's not the same without you...Dean? What?" Sam's relief was short lived when Dean began to spell something out.

"Hunt? Hunting? You're hunting something? What are you hunting?"

"YES".

"It's in the hospital, what you're hunting, isn't it? Do you know what it is?" Sam watched as the planchette began to move again, "R-E-A-P", it spelled.

"A reaper," Sam said, happiness short lived. "Dean...is it after you?"

Sam watched as the pointer slid to "YES" once again.

"If you're here naturally, there no way to stop it," Sam realized numbly. "Man you're um…"

Feeling like he did when he found out Dean was supposed to die months back, he refused to believe Dean was a goner this time. Jumping up, Sam quickly began to gather up the board and its pieces. "No no no. There's gotta be a way. There's gotta be a way...Dad'll know what to do."

Leaving Dean's spirit alone, Sam sprinted down the hall to his father's room, only to find the bed empty, vacated of all of John's' belongings.

"Dad," Sam whispered.

Spinning around, Sam returned to Dean's room, breathless.

Taking a seat on the edge of Dean's bed, Sam pulled out John's journal. "Hey, so Dad wasn't in his room. But I've got his journal, so who knows. Maybe there's something in here…" Determinedly, Sam began to flip through the journal, stopping when he came to the few pages on reapers. The information made him look up at Dean's body sadly. He had to fix this. He didn't know how this family could go on without Dean…any of them.

So, that's where he stayed, neck craning over the familiar print, as Sam read and reread every word, trying to find some hidden meaning or pattern he hadn't noticed before.

He kept pouring over the words, until the shadows of the room begin to change, indicating the sun was rising in the sky, higher and higher, without a care that perhaps some people would not be alive when the sun finally arced back down to the earth.

Quietly closing the journal, a small breath escaped Sam as he stood. He moved over to the window and stared bitterly outside. It was a warm, green day. Turning his attention back to the room, Sam glanced around, like he could catch a mirage of his brother. "Dean, are you here? I-I couldn't find anything in the book. I don't know how to help. I'm sorry.

"But I'll keep trying alright? As long as you keep fighting I'll keep looking. I mean, you can't leave me here alone. Not with Dad. We'll kill each other, you know that."

Fingers curling around the edge of the windowsill, Sam watched Dean's body for any reaction, a flutter of the eyelids, an increase in his heart rate. Something.

"You can't leave Alice behind, you know. Maybe you don't notice it but...I see how she looks at you...it's how I used to look at Jess. Trust me, you don't want to leave her with that gaping feeling-

"And the kids. Man, please, if you're gonna stay for someone, stay for them. They're still young. So young. If you're gone, who's gonna teach them all the words to every Zeppelin song, huh?"

Sam paused, not feeling Dean's presence anymore. "Dean, you gotta hold on. You can't go man. Not now. We were just starting to be brothers again. Please. Can you hear me?" His voice broke at the last phrase, and Sam began to shake, feeling like he had already lost his brother.


Hanging on the edge of despair, Sam was stretching his brain to think of something that he could do right then that was useful. His phone was clenched in one hand, where it had been for several minutes. Open to the call screen, Alice's number was punched in, but Sam hadn't been able to bring himself to press the call button. He'd already seen her almost lose Dean once. But this time?

What could he do?

There was nothing he could-

A sudden spike in the heart rate monitor was accompanied by a sharp gasp that hadn't come from Sam. Shooting upwards, Dean sat up in the bed, eyes open wide. His first gaps of air turned into choking as he swallowed the breathing tube that was down his throat.

"Dean?" The shock only lasted for a moment before Sam was in the hallway, calling for help.


The brothers were conversing quietly when there was a soft knock at the door. John Winchester, one arm in a sling, looking quite tired and disheveled entered the room. Sam immediately noticed the expression on his face seemed a bit sad, perhaps almost sheepish. "How you doing, dude?" John asked, giving Dean a small smile.

Dean had been trying to process everything that had happened. The last thing he remembered was Sam pointing a gun at their demon possessed father. He didn't remember the car crash or being airlifted to the hospital. He certainly didn't remember being a spirit. Apparently as one who had communicated to Sam-through a thirteen year old girl's slumber party toy, no less-that he was being hunted by a reaper.

He shrugged, feeling everything weighing on him. Something was wrong. Things weren't adding up or making sense. "Fine, I guess. I'm alive," Dean responded passively.

"That's what matters."

Sam watched the exchange, trying to temper his anger. But, seeing John act like nothing was wrong riled him up. Not able to sit there quietly any more, Sam straightened up, trying to make himself look taller. "Where were you last night?" He demanded in a baiting tone.

John gave Sam a neutral glance. "I had some things I had to take care of last night."

"Well that's specific," Sam scoffed.

"Come on, Sam," Dean said. Being brought back from the brink of death, inexplicably, had left him feeling exhausted.

Sam ignored his brother and continued to interrogate his father. "Did you go after the demon?"

"No," John said simply, thinly.

"You know, why don't I believe you right now?"

A sigh, one that was lodged within John's lungs, was expelled. With a pleading, uncharacteristic tone, asked, "Can we not fight? You...half the time we're fighting, I don't even know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads, Sammy. Like we always have. And like before you left for Stanford, we've both said things we didn't mean. I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I've could. I just don't want to fight anymore. Okay?" He paused. "Would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?" He asked, before Sam could say something back.

Stunned, Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah...sure." He slowly left the room with a dumbfounded look on his face.

"Dad, are you alright?" Dean asked, concerned.

"Yeah, son. I'm just a little tired."

Dean knew his father better than anyone, and in his entire life, he had never seen John look so...done. John had always been fueled by anger and revenge and always jumped at the opportunity to have a fight. His blood was boiling red, but that energy seemed to have fizzled.

"What is it?" Dean felt himself beginning to frown; his father had never seemed older.

John came a little closer to Dean's beside. "You know, when you were a kid, and I would come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen...I'd be wrecked. And you'd come up to me, put your hand on my shoulder and look me in the eyes. You'd say 'it's okay, Dad.'"

Immediately feeling uncomfortable and worried all at once, Dean felt the urge to recoil.

"Dean, I'm sorry," John continued. "You shouldn't have had to say that to me. I should have been saying that to you. I put too much on your shoulders, made you grow up too fast.

"Maybe...maybe if I had been around more, been more of a father, you wouldn't have become a one at sixteen. But even as a teenager, you were still a better father than me.

"I put too much on your shoulders, made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy and you took care of me. And you took care of Alice and those kids. I'm sorry I made you have to be away from them so much. Even as a teenager, you were a better father than me, Dean."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. He doubted he was a better father than John. And he doubted John being around more would've stopped him from knocking up Alice. Could-have-beens, should-have-beens, and would-have-beens were not things Dean tried to concern himself with.

"Is this really you talking?" Dean asked quietly. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to control his voice if he talked any louder.

John nodded. "Yeah, it's really me, son."

"Why are you saying this stuff."

John placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Tell those kids of yours I'm sorry. And tell Alice the same. And, I want you to watch out for Sammy. Okay?"

"Yeah, Dad. You know I will. But you're scaring me."

"Don't be scared, Dean. Everything is gonna be fine." Leaning forward, John pulled Dean into a hug, before whispering one last sentiment in his ear.

The last piece of information was so jarring, that Dean didn't move when John pulled away and slowly exited the room, glancing back at his son one last time.


Simmering hospital coffee splattered across the slick, tile floor as Sam launched himself to the ground, towards John, who was lying lifeless on the floor of an empty room. Gripping at his shoulders, Sam began to call for his father like he never had in life, shaking the man in an attempt to wake him up.

A little down the hallway, Dean's brain was bombarded by the sound of his brother yelling their father's name. Leaping out of bed, Dean ignored the achiness in his bones and sprinted to the source of the noise, heart beating in his ears as he saw Sam pulled back from their unconscious father as doctors and nurses began to perform CPR on John.

A doctor in a white coat sat back on his heels with a deep sigh. "Okay, stop compressions."

"Come on, come on," Dean whispered, one hand gripping the doorway, the other gripping Sam's jacket.

"Still no pulse," a nurse replied.

"No no," Sam intoned, unaware his was even whispering.

"Okay. That's it everybody. I'll call it. Time of death: 10:41 A.M."

The pressure in the room dropped to zero, and whiteness of the hospital seemed to grow brighter while the nurses and doctors began to fade.

"What? No no no. That's our dad! You have to check him again!" From Dean's side, Sam had darted forward, trying to reach John's body, only to be met with a wall of nurses trying to restrain him.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. He's gone. Please-"

A tinny, irritating tone reverberated around the room. Confused at what the sound was, Dean realized it was coming from his pocket. In consternation, he pulled out his phone, which was ringing and vibrating angrily.

The name on the screen was blurry, but he could tell it was short, beginning with an 'A'.

Pressing the talk button, he placed it to his ears. "Hello?" His voice was hollow and numb.

"Dean where are you?"

It was Alice.

And she sounded hysterical.

"I'm at a hospital in-"

In the background on the other end of a line, there was a crash and a scream. "CARA! NOAH! NO!" Alice's voice was directed away from the phone.

Feeling himself slam back down to reality, Dean pushed away from the wall, ignoring the sounds of Sam pleading with the nurses, who were pleading with him in return.

"Alice? What's going on? Alice!" Dean demanded into the phone.

There was a gasp and a cry from Alice. She sounded frantic and in pain as she spoke. "Demons! They're here, they found us. Oh God! Oh-"

The line went dead.

"Alice? Alice! Are you there...DAMN IT." Dean chucked the phone, which ricocheted off the opposite wall and clattered to the ground.

Ignoring the shattered phone, Dean turned and grabbed Sam by the shoulders, who had calmed down at was now kneeling in front of his father in a sort of catatonic state. Someone had placed a white sheet over their father. And the nurses, no longer needing to hold Sam back, were slowly trickling out of the room.

"Sammy. Sam. We've gotta go." Dean shook his brother's shoulder urgently.

Head turning slowly, Sam looked at Dean, tears staining his cheeks. "Go where?"

"Chicago."

Frowning, Sam shook his head. "No. We have to take care of his body."

Refusing to glance at John's shrouded body, Dean began pulling Sam to stand. "Alice called me. The demons found them, Sammy. The demons are there."

Jumping up, Sam popped out of his fugue state. "What about Dad? We can't just leave him."

Dean shook his head, pushing his father out of his head for now. "Call Bobby. Have him come get Dad."

Sam nodded, and the two shot off down the hallway, leaving behind the body of their father, covered in a snow white sheet.


Going over a hundred miles an hour, Dean focused dangerously on the road in a stolen burgundy red Toyota Corolla, while Sam called Bobby to get their father, and then tried over and over, alternating between calling Jan and Alice, neither of whom were answering.

They had been running all over the place for nearly a week, hardly getting any sleep. Their father had inexplicably died and Dean had inexplicably woken up from a coma.

Neither brother could let himself absorb what was going on.

But they knew there was no rest for them and no end in sight to the unending horrors that were coming down in fiery bursts upon their family.

It didn't seem like the torture was below their feet.

Hell was all around them.


Certainly not my best chapter, but it was an important transition into the next. It may seem a little all over the place, but hopefully that helps reflect how jarring and disjointed things are for the brothers right now. Hope you don't mind how similar it was to the script, but there are so many elements from this episode that I just loved.

And although there wasn't any of the Mercers in this chapter, you can guarantee there will be in the next one.

I hope everyone is enjoying fall-even though it still feels like summer-and everything is well.

Lastly, I really appreciate everyone who has followed and favorited. Just the fact that anyone wants to read this story really makes me happy :)