Chapter 9

Sam pulled the Impala to a stop outside the Emergency Room and Dean ran inside, Riley's limp body cradled in his arms.

"I need some help!" he bellowed and scrub-clad doctors and nurses gathered around him and helped him lower her onto a gurney.

Dean felt a sense of déjà vu as he watched them wheel her into an examination room and he was forced to wait outside. Peering through the window, he saw one nurse hung two bags of blood from an IV stand and attach a line to her wrist while another hooked her up to a machine to monitor her vitals. A doctor barked orders as he assessed the wound on her abdomen. Dean watched in horror as the heart monitor flat-lined and emitted a steady whine.

"Please God, help!" he whispered as he watched the doctors intibate her and attach a bag to the tube which they squeezed to pump oxygen into her lungs. Another doctor shocked her with defibrillator paddles but the monitor still showed no pulse. Her body jerked as a second jolt ran through her, but her heart remained still. A third jolt brought an unsteady rhythm to hear heart, which slowly evened out to a normal sinus rhythm. Dean breathed prayer of thanks and moved out of the way as the doctors wheeled the gurney towards the door.

"How is she? Where are you taking her?" he asked frantically as they passed him.

"We're taking her up to the O.R." a nurse told him hurriedly. "We're gonna do everything we can for her."

A second nurse walked up to him with a clipboard.

"Are you related to her?" she asked.

"I'm her fiancée," Dean said, thinking quickly, knowing it was the only way he'd be allowed to see her and get any information about her.

"I have some paperwork I need you to fill out then," she said handing him the clipboard.

He glanced at the questionnaire and knew he didn't have many answers to offer.

"I don't know how much of this I can answer," Dean explained, his voice panicked. "I know she has insurance, but I don't know any of the specifics."

"Just fill out the things you know for sure and we'll get the rest later," she said with a sympathetic smile. "Bring it back to me at the desk when you're finished and I'll get someone to take you to the O.R. waiting room.

"Thanks," Dean replied gratefully.

A few hours later, Dean was pacing in the waiting room. He had heard no news of Riley's condition and fear held his heart in a vice grip. Sam had called to say he and their dad were settled at Bobby's. Bobby had dug the bullet out of their dad's leg and he was resting. But the relief that phone call brought barely made a dent in Dean's anxiety.

Dean whirled around at the sound of the waiting room door opening.

"I'm Dr. Foster. You're Miss Adams' fiancée?" an auburn-haired doctor in her mid-fifties asked.

"Yes, I'm Dean, how is she?" he asked nervously.

"She made it through the surgery and we've gotten her blood pressure back to a safe level," the kind-eyed Dr. Foster began in a gentle voice. "The good news is that the abdominal wound didn't go deep enough to damage any internal organs. It did a lot of damage to her abdominal muscles but those will heal in time. Our real concern is the hemorrhagic shock that resulted from the massive blood loss. Her body didn't have the amount of blood necessary to transport enough oxygen to all her organs. This can cause permanent damage. We're running tests and monitoring her to see if there has been any damage to her organs. Right now she is still unconscious. If her brain was deprived of oxygen for too long she may have suffered some degree of brain damage. We won't be able to ascertain that though unless or until she wakes up."

"Unless?" Dean asked. "You mean, she could just never wake up?"

"It's a possibility," Dr. Foster said gently. "All we can do for now is keep monitoring her and wait."

"Can I see her?"

"Yes, of course. Follow me."

Dean followed Dr. Foster to Riley's room in the Intensive Care Unit. Last time he had entered a hospital room under these circumstances, Riley had been beside him. Now she lay in a bed with tubes and wires running through her and a ventilator breathing for her. Dean felt light-headed as he walked into the room and lowered himself into a chair beside her bed. He took her still hand in his.

"Hey Riley, it's me, Dean," he said softly. "You know how impatient I am, so if you could wake up soon, that'd be great. But I'll be right here, no matter how long it takes. I'm not going anywhere Riley."

Riley's condition remained unchanged the next afternoon when Sam joined Dean at the hospital. He noticed the irony of the situation—several months ago, it had been Riley who had sat by Dean as he lay unconscious in a hospital bed. Now their roles were reversed. All Sam could do was take care of Dean's practical needs; food and coffee. It killed him to helplessly watch as the worry tore Dean apart. He was pretty sure Riley had gotten the easier gig this time and he felt certain that she would agree.

Two days of waiting had left Dean looking as though he'd aged 10 years. He left Riley's side only to use the restroom. Dark circles under his eyes were clear evidence that he hadn't slept more than a few minutes in the past three days. They had taken Riley off the ventilator the day before and he tried to find peace and comfort in the steady rise and fall of her chest. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his head on his and Riley's intertwined hands.

God, I need a miracle. Please, I need you to make Riley wake up. I can't lose her! Dean prayed silently.

As he listened to Riley breathe, a voice from his past came to him.

"I guess if you're gonna have faith, you can't just have it when the miracles happen. You have to have it when they don't."

Layla had been dying and still she'd been able to hold onto her faith. Dean didn't know if he was that strong.

"Dean?"

For a second, Dean thought he had imagined it but when he looked up Riley's blue eyes were looking back at him.

"Thank you God!" Dean breathed as he quickly moved to perch on the edge of her bed.

"Welcome back! You scared the hell outta me!" Dean said with a smile as he brushed a strand of hair back from her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," she replied matter of factly, her voice hoarse "but I'll live—I am gonna live, right?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yeah," Dean said with a grin.

Dr. Foster declared Riley "on the mend" and assured them that in time she would fully recover. She was moved from the ICU into a regular room but Dr. Foster told her she'd have to remain in the hospital for at least another week while they kept her on IV antibiotics to ward off infection. The damage to her abdominal muscles caused Riley a great deal of pain when she moved so she was grateful for the intravenous pain medication as well.

"Dean?" Riley asked softly.

"Huh?" Dean said, looking up from the magazine he had been flipping through.

"Come here," she said patting the bed beside her. "We need to talk."

"Ok," Dean said as he got up from his chair and sat beside Riley on the bed. "About what?"

"I heard you."

"You heard me? Heard me what?" Dean asked, confused.

"I heard you praying. Does that mean you believe God exists?" Riley asked cautiously.

"Yeah, I guess I do, but that doesn't mean he gives much thought to me," Dean replied.

"Of course he does!" Riley exclaimed. "Don't you get it, Dean? God's been using you your whole life to fight evil. He's been using you for an important purpose."

Dean closed his eyes as a memory came to him.

"Why? Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?" he had asked.

"Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me. I looked into your heart and you just stood out from all the rest." Rev. LaGrange had told him.

"What did you see in my heart?"

"A young man with an important purpose—a job to do, that he didn't finish."

Dean willed away the tears before he opened his eyes again.

"How can he use me? Why would he? I'm not exactly the poster boy for virtuousness," Dean said shrugging.

"You don't have to be perfect for God to care about you and use you, Dean. Salvation was made for sinners," she replied.

"Pastor Jim used to say that," Dean said with a sad smile.

"Who's Pastor Jim?"

"He was a friend of the family—and a hunter, like us… until demon Meg killed him."

"I'm sorry, Dean. I would have liked to have met him."

"Yeah, he would have liked you Riley." Silence stretched between them as Dean tried to absorb the idea that God had been using him all along. "Man, this is all… pretty humbling."

"So..." Riley said slowly. "You believe?"

"I believe," he replied.

"That's good, because I think I love you," Riley said shyly.

"Honey, it's mutual," he said huskily as he leaned and brought his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

Layla was right, Dean thought to himself with a smile. God works in mysterious ways.

The End

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