A/N: Okay, here's Dean Point of view, the watcher is coming up next.
I hate hospitals. They're full of sick people, germs, and they smell like death. Not the kind of death I get a whiff of every once and awhile. Not the exciting, sweaty, warrior's death that I face on almost every hunt. No, this is the death of old people, of children, of innocents. The slow, inevitable "go towards the light" kind of death that freaks me out. The kind of death I can't do a damn thing to stop. I never want to die like that, helpless in a hospital bed. If I'm going out it's gonna be in a blaze of fire, and I'm taking some evil son-of-a-bitch with me. So, forgive me if I seem a little miffed about waking up in this place.
My mind was reeling; my memory hazy, and the first thing I thought of was instinctual. Where was my little brother? In the white-ness of the hospital, I heard more voices then a schizophrenic, but I didn't hear Sam. What had happened to him? If I was in the hospital, of all places, it had to be bad…where the hell was he?
"Sammy?" I couldn't help yelling out, I tried to sit up but there was this pain in my shoulder that screamed at me to lie back down. I felt a firm hand on my arm and I looked up to see an elderly man taking my pulse.
"It's okay" he said, like one of those stupid yoga teachers, who just wanted me to relax…Well, I couldn't relax! I had no idea where my brother was, or why I was in the hospital! I hate not knowing what's going on.
They wheeled me into this room, and put me on this horribly cold metal table, the man who had been taking my pulse was there, along with people in scrubs…oh God, was I going into surgery? Was I going to die? No, I couldn't die; I didn't know where Sammy was! The last thing I remember from then is the plastic mask going over my face, and I was out like a light. Best sleep I've gotten in months. Too bad I had to be medicated to get it.
When I finally came to again, the same elderly man was in a small, bland room with me, scanning a clipboard with his watery blue eyes.
"Where the hell am I?" I asked my heart racing. The old man didn't seem surprised as he slowly finished reading whatever the hell was on that clipboard and looked over at me.
"You're in St. Lucy's Memorial Hospital" he said, as if he was proud of the name. I sighed and decided to rephrase,
"Where the hell is that?" I asked, my voice sounding harsher then I meant. He tucked his clipboard under his arm and smiled at me,
"You, need to get some sleep." He said, ignoring my question like I was a five year old. He aggravated me immediately.
"I need to get some answers" I spat back trying to sit up again, finding that it almost didn't hurt at all this time. I looked over and noticed that practically my whole body from my shoulder to my belly-button was wrapped in bandages. I could see the discoloration of the bruises in some spots and decided I must be on something for this to not hurt like hell. I noticed the IV in my wrist and silently thanked the painkiller gods.
"You were brought in by your brother; you'd been shot in the shoulder." He said as if it was a normal thing to say. After that the memories flooded back all at once, the cold look in Sammy's eyes, the sound of the gunshot. My sad little voice in the air, calling out in disbelief. At first I didn't believe it, didn't believe that he shot me, that he would shoot me. I guess from now on I'll know better then to hand him a loaded gun. Right now, none of that mattered, right now, I just wanted to get out of here, and I just wanted Sam.
"Right" I said slumping back into the surprisingly comfortable bed. It smelled like old people and petroleum jelly…but I'd slept on worse. The man stepped forward, and I noticed he had a lab coat on, he must be a doctor, well of course he was, he was in my hospital room with a very official looking clipboard.
"Any idea how that could have happened?" He asked and for a second my words got trapped in my throat. They were in such a rush to get out that they got tangled up in each other and couldn't make it.
"No" I lied, I sounded confident, I always did…it's a gift. The doctor nodded, he must have thought I was experiencing some sort of memory loss, or some medical crap, whatever, I'll take any excuses I can get.
"You also had some quite unusual injuries" he said staring at me like some kind of freak. I looked right back at him the same way…I refuse to be ogled!
"Surprise me" I said sarcastically and I saw the small smile tug at his lips as he read from his clipboard again.
"You, are a salted piece of meat" he said. Touché doctor. I remember that very clearly, the look on Sammy's face as he pulled the trigger, on me. It hurt like hell, but it wasn't fatal, not physically anyway. "And I can honestly say I've never seen that sort of injury before." We obviously didn't run in the same circles. He went on and on about how cracked my ribs were, how widespread my bruising was how remarkable it was that I had gone so long without medical attention. Try four weeks with a broken finger. I thought, but no…we were dealing with normal people here. He blabbed on and on in medi-speak, thinking I could understand him. Sam would love this guy. When he was finally done, and my eyes were official glazed over he took a deep breath and gave me a sideways glance,
"I'm going to need to know your name" he said and I nodded.
"Dean Winchester." Hell, I've given so many aliases over the years that by now, my real name is an alias. He rubbed his chin with his hand and wrote something at the bottom of his clipboard with a tired look in his eyes he turned back to me. He looked at me like I was fragile, like I would break. That made me mad, I was strong, I've always been strong, and just because Sammy got it into his head that we needed to go to the hospital didn't make me weak. "So, is that it? Can I go now?" I asked motioning to stand up, and the old guy laughed at me. He laughed.
"No, you won't be able to leave for a couple of days; you're still pretty banged up." May I make a reference to the finger thing again? "You can leave once it is determined that you're completely healed." Screw that, I'm leaving as soon as Sammy and I can sneak out.
"Okay" I said sinking back into my hospital pillow again. The doctor smiled at me,
"You press that button if you need anything" he said pointing to a green button to my left. If I push it will it make it so that Sammy never shot me? Never hated me? Or how about paying the medical bill for me so I didn't have to sneak out? I'd take that. I nodded, and had already decided to ignore him as he walked out. I leaned back and closed my eyes. Sammy must be in the waiting room, he'd be worried sick…or would he? No, he probably just threw me out of the car and took off…stop it, you're being stupid. That's not Sammy. No matter how much I like to think that he hates me, I know that he loves me. Somewhere deep down in that pit of anger, I'm still his hero.
I lost Sammy long before he went off to college; I lost him even before he insisted on being called Sam. I lost him the day he looked at me and didn't see strength anymore. The day he saw me as annoyingly over-protective, the day he first wanted out. He'll never know how hard I fought for him to be able to leave me. But he deserves everything I've got, even if he doesn't think so. I shook myself out of the emotion I was in and was contented to stare at the ceiling for a while. I almost had my mind blank when I heard voices outside the door. It was Sammy, I could tell his voice apart from anyone else's, even if we were separated by a few inches of wood-like material. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I could hear Sam's voice shake. The doctor opened the door, and in stepped my brother. Damn I was happy to see him. He looked horrible, his eyes were red and his face was smudged with dirt, his hands were shaking and he looked ghostly pale. He just stood in the doorway looking at me, as if I was made of glass. Damn it, the next person that even starts to think I'm fragile will get their ass kicked!
"You look horrible" I said to him, and I saw some of the guilt leave him as a small smile towed at his lips.
"Shut up" he said walking over to the side of my bed. The doctor was still in the room and I saw him smile, like he thought we were heart warming or something. I glared at him leave us alone, can't you see he's close to a breakdown? To my surprise he backed out understandingly like he could read my thoughts. Maybe doctors weren't so bad after all.
Sam looked so damned guilty, I just wanted to hug him and tell him it'd be okay…you tell anyone that, I'll kill you. Seriously, I know seventeen ways to kill someone with a toothpick.
"Dean I'm…" He started off weakly, and seeing his watery eyes I did not like the way this conversation was going.
"Save it, Sammy" I said and I saw hurt flash across his face. I didn't mean it like that; I just wanted him to let me talk. "You tried to kill me…again. But it wasn't your fault." I said and he laughed a little.
"I can see how you can say Jess's death wasn't my fault…or that my life in general isn't my fault. But I'm pretty sure that this is my fault" he said and I sighed you're missing the point Sammy. Not the direction I was going for.
"No, it's not. I handed you the loaded gun, I told you to shoot me, it sounds pretty cut and dry to me." Sam ran a hand through his hair, I saw that he was going to try to come up with an argument to challenge me, but he wasn't going to win, and he knew it. He heaved a sigh and shook his head at me.
"Why are you defending me? I shot you!" He sounded so desperate, like he wanted me to be mad at him, like that would make him feel better, I wasn't going to give him the pleasure.
"I'm your big brother, it's what I do." I said, it was my answer to everything, and I knew Sam couldn't bring himself to argue with it.
"Damn it, Dean…can't you just be mad at me, punch me or something?" He asked and I almost laughed at him, but he looked so pitiful. I sighed and scratched the back of my head. This was going to be awkward, but he wanted to talk and it had to be asked.
"I just want to know what I did…I mean, why do you hate me so much?" I knew it sounded pathetic, but I had to know.
"I don't hate you, Dean. Is that what you think?" He sounded so confused; I was beginning to regret asking at all.
"Well, you did shoot me…twice…tonight." I said and he sighed, his head dropping to his chest. I didn't want to see him cry, because that might make me cry and that is defiantly not an option.
"I don't hate you, I hate hunting. I hate this life." He said, his voice betraying his emotions. I had to say something to make it better. And before I could hold myself back the words slipped out.
"Sometimes, I hate it too" I said. He looked shocked,
"Really?" He asked and I nodded. "But this is your life" he said, he sounded so disbelieving. Like he had never thought that I might have wanted anything besides hunting for my life.
"Yeah, how sad is that?" I asked a sly smirk on my face. He sighed and shook his head,
"Don't you love hunting?" I looked at him with disbelief in my eyes. Did he really think that all I ever wanted was to hunt? That I never had any dreams beyond that?
"I love saving people, but sometimes I wish I was doing something else…anything else." Sammy was looking at me like I was some sort of alien. I didn't like it, but I thought that somehow he was beginning to understand. "You don't think I wish everyday that Mom hadn't died? That Dad had been able to get over it? That our lives were different? But no matter how hard I wish, that'll never happen, and I've learned to accept that…okay, Sammy?" He didn't say anything, he just looked at me, I was beginning to get nervous when he finally opened his mouth.
"Dean, I had no idea…I just thought that I was the one that wanted out all the time… that I was the freak" I sighed,
"Dude, you're still a freak. It's just sometimes…I wish things were… different." Sam nodded and smiled sadly, I didn't think you could smile sadly, but he can.
"Me too. God, I don't know if I can take this much longer Dean, I don't know if I can keep this up." I couldn't let him crumble. It would kill me if he left, he's all I've got left, and I can't do this without him. I won't do this without him.
"Sam, if you leave me I won't be able to keep going." I meant it, and my voice was as steady as I could make it, although I hate to think that it may have given away my emotional state. I saw a look in his eyes that proved that he might finally get it. That he might finally understand what he means to me.
"I won't leave" he said, a slight smile spreading across his face. It was irritatingly smug.
"What're you smiling about?" I asked smirking and he shrugged, playing the innocent.
"Nothing" he said stuffing his hands into his pockets, "but I think you just said you needed me." I looked at him, eyes wide. What was he stupid? Of course I needed him! He was my Sammy, I'd always need him, but I couldn't let him know that.
"Shut up…jerk."
Coming soon…the boys sneak out of a hospital bill, and the watchers identity is revealed.