Actions speak louder
Chapter 9
By teal-lover
Summary: Sam meant what he said the asylum. So how can he ever convince the one person in his life that knows him better than anyone, otherwise?
Rating: PG13, T
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural in any way shape or form, and I don't get any money for this, this is purely entertainment…hopefully:)
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Dean took in the pale features and ran to the bed. He reached over and hit the nurses call button, ignoring his father's hiss of "Dean, what the hell are you doing?"
Though only seconds later, the nurses weren't moving fast enough in his opinion, so he climbed up on the bed, straddling his brother while he plucked the useless tube from his mouth, lowering his own to it instead. Darting his head up again, he yelled to the nurse who responded, "HELP ME! HE'S NOT BREATHING!" Come on Sammy, breathe. Come on kid.
Dean only managed a few shaky breaths and chest compressions before a resident raced in demanding to take over. He barely even noticed himself being dragged out of the room. Just before the door slammed in his face, he looked on in horror as Sam's body arched off the bed in response to the electricity trying to shock his heart into starting again.
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Dean watched his father being led just over the hill, practically stumbling in the chains hooked around his ankles. He was actually surprised that the officers allowed him to attend at all, given the circumstances.
The shorter woman tugged on his arm gently and he turned back around, his eyes purposely sweeping over the sight of a few of Sam's college friends gingerly tossing roses down into the hole.
Missouri pulled him forward again. It was his turn now. Dean hadn't wanted to go first, and had refused all offerings of the flowers thrust at him. They were all so unlike him. He stared down into the open chasm before removing his leather bracelet, ignoring the expectant and sympathetic stares directed towards him.
The black corded leather was meant as a protection and had kept him safe thus far, but he didn't need or want it anymore.
His fingers only lingered across the worn material for a few seconds before he opened them, releasing it. When he gave it to his brother one last time, he only hoped letting it go would allow something to find him.
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Dean breathed in sharply as the same nurse that had given him the phone earlier seemed to be speaking to him now. He shook off the daydream and shuttered silently, praying that Sam was the only Winchester to ever receive prophetic visions.
"…I promise to come and get you as soon as we hear anything, so why don't we go down the hall to the waiting room. Just so that we're not in their way," she offered in gentle, motherly voice. He found himself following her blindly because of it.
Trailing behind his father into the room at the opposite end of the hall, he nodded as she left them alone, instructing them both to stay put. He did his best to avoid John's lethal looking stare as she pulled the door shut with a soft click. He took a few steps back as the taller man approached menacingly. If he hadn't been angry with him before, he certainly was now.
Dean had stared down demons, ghosts, vampires, hell hounds, werewolves, and even lawmen threatening to arrest him—but none had ever made him flinch nervously like the older Winchester did to him now.
For a moment, he thought John was actually going to hit him. Instead, the man only growled in his most commanding, marine-like voice—the one that made him square his shoulders and stand at attention on pure survival instinct.
"Dean!"
"Yes Sir?"
"Do you know what you just did?"
"I hope so, Sir."
"Well then, would you care to explain it to me?"
Gulping down his nervousness, Dean explained calmly. "I did exactly as you've told me before. I was looking out for Sam."
"Dean," he growled in frustration, "We went through this. That thing—isn't your brother anymore, and now you've ruined any shot we had of doing this the easy way." John grew angrier as he spoke and fisted his hands on Dean's shirt, practically dragging him up off the ground. "Can you honestly say that you can walk up to something that used to be our Sammy, and put a bullet in its brain? CAN YOU?" he shook him, "Because I can't!"
John broke off, the tears clouding his vision again as the fight seemed to have left him. "I can't do that, Dean…" He loosened his grip, then suddenly pulled back. He had never physically accosted one of his sons before, and now that he had, he stared at his hands in disbelief as if they were diseased.
Lowering his hands to his sides, he watched the look of surprise gradually fade from his son's face, but he didn't seem angry, so he continued. "I can't look into those eyes and see anything but my boy. And Mary. He has so much of her in him, did you know that?"
Dean tried to reassure the broken man before him, but he spoke hesitantly. If John reacted so forcefully when he thought it wasn't Sam, how was he going to react when he realized that it was. "Dad, you wont have to. That's Sammy in there. Our Sammy! She was sure of it. We've got to believe that."
"Dean, what are you talking about?"
He felt around in his pockets, suddenly realizing that he must have dropped the phone back in the room. He was just going to have to press on without his proof. "Missouri. She called Sam's phone and told me that it was Sam in there—not something that had come back instead. But Dad, she sounded so positive, I'm sorry—I couldn't take the chance."
The color seemed to drain from John's face while he shook his head wildly, "No, no. That's not possible. Does she know that it threw me clear across the room? So what? After all the things we've been through, you think Sam has suddenly developed physic powers? In all of his 23 years with not a single sign of it? No, it's simply not possible."
Even Dean had to admit that it was far fetched, but he was willing to believe anything if it meant that he would get his brother back. He was saved from having to answer the question by the doctor storming into the waiting room, followed closely by several security guards. He didn't look happy either. In fact, he looked rather angry. But he asked anyway. "Sam?"
"Stable. For now. We almost lost him again. One of you want to tell me what the hell happened back there before I have your asses hauled out of here for attempted murder?"
Dean didn't even need to think twice about the words he uttered in the next few moments. He would always protect his family, and now was no different. Secretly glad that this time, he wasn't dealing with a psychic who could read his mind, the lies tumbled from his mouth faster than his father could ever admit to any wrongdoing. "What are you talking about? I only pulled the tube out because he wasn't breathing. I pushed the call button and the damn nurses were too busy yakking away to do anything about it. What did you expect me to do?"
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the fact that all of the alarms that would have warned us that there was a problem--were switched off."
John breathed a sigh of relief if there was even the slightest possibility that it was really his youngest back in that room.
He soon picked up on his eldest son's train of thought. After all, Dean hadn't learned his poker skills on his own. "I turned them off. You told me to talk to Sam, and I couldn't hear myself talking to him with that infernal racket going on."
The doctor stared at the man incredulously and tried to gauge his mental state. "They were on for a reason! And what about the plug?"
"What plug?" Dean asked innocently.
"The ventilator plug. You know the thing that was breathing for him? It was out of the socket."
"Oh Crap. I tripped on my way out of the door. Fell into some things. I didn't even notice. So I nearly…I mean, my brother—it's my fault?"
The doctor turned to one of the guards, who shrugged in response to his silent question. Do you believe them? He wasn't sure himself, but they both looked genuinely distraught and sincere. He supposed it was possible since this was one of the older wings. Everything had been poorly designed—sockets near to the ground, and some even a bit loose. But one thing was certain, regardless of whatever their story was, he had no intention of allowing them unguarded access to his patient until he woke up.
TBC…
AN: oh come on, you didn't think I'd really kill Sammy did ya:)
Can I say thank you thank you thank you to everyone who is still reading. And reviewing too—wow, you guys just make my day. Thanks a million.